As Baz regained consciousness, he found himself supine on the cave floor, his entire being enshrouded in numbness, as if plunged into a glacial abyss. Gazing upwards, he beheld the rough, jagged contours of a natural ceiling overhead, wrought from the earth's own flesh. The dry, parched air and feeble, continuous draughts, too, had played a part in his wretched state. From his right flank, he discerned the crackling of flames and the comforting warmth they imparted.

  "Why did you venture hither?" boomed a voice from the shadows.

  "Where am I? And who are you?" countered Baz, the mist elf, with his own query.

  "Why did you traverse the mystical portal?" came the voice's rejoinder.

  Despite his acute aural acuity, Baz couldn't pinpoint the voice's origin.

  "Don't fret. I am but a thought, ensconced within your psyche. If you desire to depart this realm, concentrate and furnish me with an answer," intoned the inscrutable being.

  And so Baz focused his thoughts, striving to recollect the cause of his ingress. Bishop had dared the gateway mere moments ago, only to meet a gruesome end. Had Baz been bereft of hope? Why had he tailed them? The answer eluded him still. Had he pursued Allendra? Nay, impossible. While Phandomir had impressed upon him that the girl was sacrosanct, his true aim was to verify Shah Maran's fate - dead or alive.

  "I believe I have come to witness the deity of serpents," he declared. "And you, are you the one?"

  "Bazil Dha Dhar Quane, do not speak such foolishness," the retort came.

  The mist elf was stunned. "How do you know my true name and the family name that I have kept concealed from all until now? And why do I find myself thinking out loud?" Bazil asked, his anger rising.

  "Welcome to the Realm of Ideas, Bazil. Here, thoughts cannot hide. Everyone is exposed. Masks serve no purpose. Mirrors reflect all truths," the enigmatic voice elucidated.

  "Mirrors?" Bazil interjected.

  "I employed a metaphor," the mysterious voice taunted.

  "Who are you truly?" Bazil demanded.

  "I am the keeper of your looking-glass," the voice replied, chuckling.

  "You are akin to my inner world," Bazil replied.

  "You are quite the trickster. I admire your subconscious, which opposes the rigors of work ethic. Though you have lived for more than a century, your mind is that of a child," the derisive tone persisted.

  "In what way?" Bazil asked, now on edge.

  "The shattered sense of belonging has left you adrift, Bazil. Neither a complete mist elf nor a full-fledged Phandomir servant you are," the voice spoke, hauntingly.

  "I am nobody's slave," Bazil objected with a sharp tone.

  "Why must you resist, child of fire?" the voice asked, and as soon as it spoke the word 'fire', the flames began to rise around Bazil. The mist elf's nerves tensed up, and he tried to move, but the flames drew nearer.

  "Why do you bury your emotions deep within yourself, Bazil? Why do you fear to confront your true self? You were born a child of fire, baptized by Pyrnost's lava, yet you deny the Sovereign of Fire himself," the voice persisted.

  "I've said it before, I won't submit to anyone," Bazil retorted fiercely.

  "You are so intractable, Bazil, you'll shatter your own mirror. I don't know how much longer I can keep it intact," the voice warned.

  "I don't grasp your metaphors," Bazil replied, puzzled.

  "Sooner or later, you must come face to face with yourself, child of fire, or else you'll be broken beyond repair," the voice urged.

  "Curse it all, I don't understand anything. Release me, and I'll start anew. Isn't that what you want?" Bazil pleaded.

  "I know you possess the necessary mettle. Remember how you left Ignassius facedown? A time will come when you will also depart from the Phandomir of a thousand faces. It's your nature, Bazil. You feel incomplete, and you're aware of it."

  The speaker appeared to be holding Bazil's conscience on trial.

  "Did the Fire Knight, Ignassius, send you?" Bazil queried tentatively.

  "No, Bazil. If he had, you'd be ablaze right now. By crossing that mystical gateway, you, in a sense, breathed life into me. So now, what am I to do with you?"

  "I don't comprehend you," Bazil grumbled.

  "You don't even understand yourself. Why did you trail that girl? Your renowned survival instinct would have precluded you from becoming a coward, but you did it regardless. Why?"

  "I'm not a coward. I endured solitary survival in the Black Desert and the Barren Lands for decades." Bazil's humiliation had kindled anger within him.

  "You're living a life of concealment, Bazil. You've even hidden your face behind a mask. You've buried your soul and self deep down. And you're still piling dirt on top of it."

  "Where are you driving at, the mysterious voice in my head?"

  "Why did you step into the mystical gateway after the girl? It's that simple."

  "I don't know, damn it! Something inside me whispered that she was worth rescuing. Are you satisfied now?" Bazil's emotional turmoil had shattered his nerves.

  "Bravo. You finally did it. Was it so difficult to speak the truth, Bazil?" Applause reverberated through the cavern.

  "Whose authority shall we defer to? By what standards shall we judge the truth? It's all but relative, for there is no single truth that holds supreme. It's only the principles we abide by, the ones we don't break, that make us strong. And ultimately, what matters is survival, no matter the cost, isn't it?"

  The enigmatic voice urged Bazil to seek answers for himself.

  "To do that, you must confront your deepest fear, Bazil. Until we meet again, you are free. Today will be forgotten, and much of the past six months will fade from memory. Who knows, perhaps you shall start anew. But, should you be unprepared when next we meet, I assure you these flames shall be real, and you shall burn alive. That will be the price of your transformation."

  The voice paused for a moment, then continued with a more hopeful tone, "I have sowed a seed of hope in your mind, or perhaps you've done it yourself, exceeding my expectations. I pray that you can nourish it until then."

  "Who are you?" Bazil asked one final time.

  "It's the wrong time for that question, but you're in the right place. Look in the mirror and smile."

  With those words, Bazil began to stir. He rose to his feet and looked around the vast cavern. A dim fire flickered in the distance, drawing him toward it. But as he gazed into the flames, he saw his own face and body, distorted and twisted like that of a burnt corpse. Fear gripped him, and he stumbled backward, falling into an endless abyss.

  As his senses returned to him, Bazil found himself lying on a craggy shore where the bitter breath of the sea whipped at his skin. His skull throbbed relentlessly, the cause of which eluded him.

  Approaching him was a man with jet-black hair, clad in opulent attire that bespoke of wealth and power. His hooked nose, razor-sharp chin, bushy beard, and twirled mustache lent an air of shrewdness to his features. "Hail, good fellow. You must be Bazil," he said, extending his hand. "I am Adam The Seer, the newly appointed governor of Corripolice, a name that strikes fear in the hearts of prophets and endears me to pirates."

  "Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Bazil, taking the man's hand and rising to his feet.

  "Pray tell, where are we?" asked Bazil, inspecting his visage and finding his makeup undisturbed.

  "Corripolice, my friend. Though I have no shortage of rivals, I hold the reins of this place," Adam replied, brandishing a scroll sealed with the insignia of the esteemed Phandomir Order. "In fact, I requested their special agent to conclude a task. They sent me a queer message that you would be here at this very hour."

  Adam showed the parchment to Bazil, who nodded in response.

  "Very well, Prophet Adam. I am at your service. But first, let us break bread and discuss the terms. My stomach clamors for sustenance," said Bazil, his tone courteous yet confident.

  The two set off towards the city, leaving behind a blank slate that would serve as the start of a lasting friendship.

  * * *

  As Paliborn stirred from his slumber, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit surroundings of a cavernous hall. An abundance of riches, including gold, silver, and a myriad of other precious metals, overflowed from every corner, as if beckoning him to dive in and swim among them. The treasure's allure was short-lived, however, as the disoriented adventurer quickly sought a way out of this glittering maze.

  "Hallo! Is there anyone here? Where's Allendra?" Paliborn called out, his voice echoing off the walls.

  "Hail, good fellow! You've come to your senses at last," came a voice from the shadows.

  Paliborn strained to pinpoint the source of the disembodied voice, which seemed to reverberate from every direction.

  "Kind voice, could you speak more softly?" he implored.

  "Your mind is in disarray, Pal. If you concentrate, you may hear me clearly, free of echoes."

  "How might I accomplish that?" Paliborn asked, trying to shake the ringing in his ears by digging his fingers into them.

  "The solution is quite uncomplicated. Expunge Allendra from your thoughts," the voice proclaimed.

  "That's impossible, sir. Allendra is of great significance to me. I cannot simply purge her from my thoughts," Paliborn protested.

  "You are dying of poison, Pal. You have muddled up this time. I extend to you a favourable option for staying alive," the voice said sternly.

  "Ah, I see now. I am poisoned and in a feverish state. I must be dreaming, then," Paliborn reasoned, his mind struggling to make sense of his predicament.

  “In some measure yea, in some measure nay, my friend," spoke the echoing voice. "This is a dream that shall bear consequences in the world of waking."

  "I confess my confusion," stuttered the halfling.

  "This is a realm that exists in parallel with your mind, Pal. Only by distancing yourself from the troubles that afflict your thoughts may you escape."

  "Back in this cursed place again? I have trodden this ground before, sir. I am prepared to meet you with my experience. Reveal yourself." Paliborn stood resolute, his form towering over the pool of shimmering metals.

  "Aye, we have crossed paths before, Pal. Yet this time, the matter is different."

  "How so?"

  "The weight of the girl bears down heavily upon your mind, Pal, threatening to tear you asunder. You must free yourself of this burden, and soon."

  "Again I say, Allendra is no burden to my mind. I can handle it."

  "Alas, Pal, the matter is far from simple. Persist in this way, and you shall make grave mistakes. Choices are your mastery."

  "No, I abhor the weight of choosing. Countless of my comrades perished due to my decisions," Paliborn protested with a despondent tone.

  "Dylan and the other knights didn't meet their demise because of your choices, Pal. They selected their own paths and decided to join you. Hence, you mustn't carry the burden of guilt," the other voice replied.

  "Look, Dylan is also dead. Another one lost. This is exactly what I'm talking about. If I don't bear the guilt, how can I make the right decision next time?" Paliborn bellowed.

  "To be honest, that's a commendable inquiry, but I'm not the one to respond," the voice retorted.

  "You're evading the issue, sir. Please, don't beat around the bush. If you're about to offer me a choice, disclose your intentions."

  "I adore your spirit, Pal. You can humble even the gods. You're correct. It's time for a choice that will steer your fate."

  "Go on, God of Choices, spill the beans," Paliborn said cheekily.

  The source of the voice burst into a hearty laughter.

  "If you wish to follow Allendra, you shall have to make a sacrifice that holds great value," the voice said solemnly.

  "And what might that be?" Paliborn inquired.

  "That is a decision you must make for yourself. But what will you offer me in exchange?"

  Paliborn glanced at his pockets and pouches, all of which were barren.

  "As you can see, I am bereft of possessions. And yet, from what I gather, you have all that you require. What could I possibly offer you?" he quipped mischievously.

  "Come now, my friend. You know well that I do not seek anything material from you."

  "A pledge, then?"

  "No. Your word holds value, I concede, but I seek something far more valuable still."

  "Such as?"

  "I want what defines you."

  "My dauntlessness?"

  "No, Pal. Something that holds even greater value. That which imparts you with courage, that which sets you apart as a leader, that which distinguishes you from others. That which makes you unparalleled."

  "My luck, perhaps?"

  At this, the voice chuckled warmly once more. "Even Zachary, the God of Luck, was never as fortunate as you, Pal. Do you not know this? It is what enables you to use your luck with precision."

  Paliborn pondered deeply. "Could it be my ability to make decisions?"

  Stolen story; please report.

  "Indeed, Pal. You have discerned it at last. You possess a mind that can chart the most advantageous course and make the most judicious choices. It is a remarkable power, an exceptional aptitude, something that would make even the gods envious. Will you relinquish it for the sake of this maiden?"

  Without hesitation, Paliborn replied, "Yes."

  "I hope you won't rue the day you made your choice, my dear friend. You shall not recollect these happenings. You two shall soon cross paths once more, but neither shall be the same. Are you still resolved?"

  "Hold your horses. She won't remember me? Is there no other way to reach her?" Paliborn rifled through his options.

  "You shall reach her, but she shall be a wholly different individual. Even if she elects to recollect your bond, Allendra who stands before you will not be the one you once knew. Change has already begun to stir within her. Perchance, by lingering in her company, you can retard it, but her fate is inexorable. You must understand this."

  "Understood. Might I have a chance to find her and refresh her memory? Bestow this boon upon me, I implore you," Paliborn beseeched.

  "Your gift of gab remains as sharp as ever, Pal. Indeed, there is always a chance, my friend."

  "Then it is settled. But wait, one more thing. Please, honorable God of Choices, take her away from this place and send her to a haven of safety. She's too young to bear the brunt of what has befallen us. I refuse to let her be further scarred. And if it's necessary, erase my memory from her thoughts for her well-being."

  "I shall endeavor to comply with your request. However, it is no simple feat to erase memories from one whose curse is to remember all. Nonetheless, do not despair, Pal. Perchance, our paths will converge once more. Until that time arrives."

  "Until then," Paliborn nodded.

  The diminutive halfling was slowly consumed by the vast pool of glittering coins. His mind was a jumbled mess, and all he could think of was Eli, his beloved friend. As Paliborn stirred from his slumber, he discovered himself reclining on a sandy shore, with the first light of dawn creeping over the horizon.

  "Ahoy there, my halfling friend. What brings you to these shores at such an early hour?" queried the seasoned fisherman, his countenance marked by the scars of a life lived on the rough seas. A fishing rod was clasped in his weathered hands, his eyes roving over the prone figure of the halfling.

  "I?" questioned the halfling in confusion. "I am not sure. I presume I was basking in the sunlight. Ah, my belly is aching with hunger. Pray tell, where am I? The gusty wind and raucous seagulls make it all the more difficult to discern. It could be that I went for a swim. Or was I sleeping? I recall having a dream about a barren wasteland, with serpents and such...madness... the capriciousness of the gods...fate... and don't get me started on the insipid stench of fish bait."

  The man was at his wits' end listening to the halfling's incoherent ramblings and had to interrupt him, "Calm yourself, my friend. If you could speak at a more moderate pace, it would make things easier to comprehend. You are situated near the town of Dearborn, with the Endless Sea stretching out before you. Accompany me, and I shall prepare for you some freshly caught fish. You may share your tale along the way."

  "That sounds splendid, sir. Will it be trout or sea bass? Have you ever had the fortune of catching an octopus? Once, I was ensnared by a colossal octopus, which dragged me to the ocean's depths... or perchance, it was a giant seahorse. Alas, my memory fails me," the halfling prattled on, sounding like a lunatic, while the man patiently listened and intermittently interjected,

  "The poor thing must be in a state of shock. He is babbling incoherently."

  * * *

  "Barth, there's nowhere left to flee!" Captain Barb's voice boomed across the deck of his ship.

  The Blue Oyster had finally cornered the Blackened at the arches of the Third Pharrahville Bridge, with a mere ten meters of space between them.

  "Blast it, Barb. I'm not skulking from you. I have a duty to discharge, one that I won't abandon. I'm a man of honor."

  "To the nine hells with your honor and your duty! We hunted you down, Barth, by tracing the trail of your crew's corpses. Why did you butcher them? What manner of monster have you become?"

  "I didn't kill them, Barb. They were all poisoned. Some twisted fiend had laced our victuals with lethal fungi."

  "They deserved it. Tell me, at least the woman is alive, Barth? We know she's aboard. Surrender her to us."

  "Take her and be gone. But on one proviso. You face me in single combat, Barb."

  "Curse you, Barth! You were once my kin. Why harbor such enmity? What wrong have I dealt you?"

  "Don't you grasp it yet? You clambered aboard this vessel not to support me but to claim the captain's seat, you foul swine. Hence why I hold you in contempt."

  "You're delusional, Barth. I abstained from that ship for it was damned. And I implored you not to board it too. If you seek a brawl, confront me face-to-face."

  "You know I'm bound to this ship, you craven weasel."

  "Nay, you are the coward and bane of mariners! Look through my eyes, Barth. This is a cul-de-sac. Should I triumph over you, I'll seize the captaincy. Yet should you overcome me, you'll remain cursed. Apologies, this offer is not suitable. I shan't board that vessel alive."

  "You're a dastard, Barb. Then let's loose arrows at each other. You may commence. If you strike me, you may take the woman. If you miss, you shall grant me a chance to fire."

  "Prove to me the woman's vitality, and I shall ponder your proposal, Barth."

  Captain Barth's voice boomed across the deck, beckoning Lena to appear. Soon, the woman emerged, looking frail and drained.

  "Are you holding up, my lady?" asked the Captain Barb, his tone gentle but concerned.

  The woman shook her head weakly. "I am weary and famished, but otherwise unscathed. Has there been any word of my niece?"

  Barb's face fell. "Sadly, not yet."

  As the woman sank to the ground, her tears cascaded down her cheeks. "It is my fault. I urged her to come along on this ill-fated voyage. How could she have been so foolish and cruel? How did we end up in this nightmare?"

  Barbarossa turned to Barth, "Why is the lady weeping, my friend? Did you lay a hand on her?"

  "Nay, I did not, Barb," replied Barth, surprised by the accusation. "It appears that her niece was the one who smuggled the mushrooms aboard, and now she is weeping for him."

  Barb arched an eyebrow in astonishment. "So it was the little one who poisoned you all?" he asked, incredulous.

  "It seems so," confirmed Barth, scratching his head in bewilderment. "The cursed wretch confessed later, admitting that she had brought the tainted fungi with her, hoping to use them to heal the lady."

  "Ha!" scoffed Barb. "You are a lucky dog, Barth. Even poison cannot fell you, it seems."

  Barth chuckled heartily. "Indeed, Barb, care to challenge me? You might just win the luck of the devil," he countered. The two men roared with laughter, their mirth echoing across the deck. But as their gaiety subsided, an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Barbarossa broke the quietude.

  "I offer my sincerest apologies, Barth. If only I possessed the might to have restrained you on that fateful day. I would have laid you out with a punch to the jaw. To be frank, I almost wished to accompany you then. Yet a voice inside of me implored me to halt. That very same voice is commanding me now. Perhaps one day I shall ally with you. Perhaps one day. For now, take your leave. Leave the woman, or take her with you, as you wish. But know this, I shall not pursue you any longer. I am wearied of this aimless pursuit. After what the young girl did, I cannot fathom what to hold as truth."

  "Barb, you have always been a better man than I. By the gods, today I shall emulate you. I will surrender the woman to you. But be warned! If you choose a day other than our next meeting to join me, I will assail you and your vessel to the bitter end."

  "May you be a virtuous man, and may Maia, the Eternal Dame of the Endless Sea, guide your course, Barth. But if you should become a malevolent man, may you drown in the Labyrinth of the Mists."

  "Every day that you conceal yourself from me, may Maia, the Eternal Dame of the Endless Sea, conjure forth surging waves to engulf your ship, Barb."

  The crew of the Blue Oyster escorted the woman away and set sail. Whether this marked the final confrontation between the two captains remains unknown, but they both departed in opposite directions.

  The Blue Oyster sailed southward and anchored at the harbor adjacent to the first bridge for a fortnight. At length, Arvedas and Xian arrived with Dylan's inert form, cocooned in magical safeguards. The air buzzed with the same unrequited inquiry: where were the rest? The duo evaded the question for an extended period, giving it a wide berth.

  * * *

  Before her stood a crystal full-length mirror, adorned with gold leaf and embossed frames. The reflection it bore resembled a dark and uncanny silhouette of herself, standing at the same height. The entire place was filled with mirrors, evoking a sense of an abandoned ballroom. The padded chairs, picture frames, and sconces hung on the walls; the metal-framed windows adorned with fancy curtains, the colossal dining table of exquisite quality, and the embroidered armchairs were all draped in spiderwebs and dust.

  It was evident that no one had set foot in this place for an extended period. A strange sense of familiarity washed over her. Was she experiencing a fleeting moment of déjà vu, or had she stumbled upon someone else's memories?

  This hall was once a place of joy, laughter, and merry-making. Distinguished guests conversed and danced to the melodious tunes of renowned bards, indulging in exotic and rare beverages. It was the legendary reception and dance hall situated in the east wing of Cahose Mansion's ground floor. Her aunt, Lena, had spoken of it numerous times.

  "That’s not her name!" A voice bellowed, shattering the eerie silence.

  Allendra cast a fearful glance around the room, her heart pounding in her chest. She recognized that voice; it was as though it emanated from one of the mirrors, though she couldn't tell which one.

  "Be wary, Allendra. Your thoughts are an open book to me. Perhaps you have but a single chance to halt me. But which mirror contains my visage?" The voice cackled, the sound ricocheting through every reflective surface.

  "This can't be happening," Allendra murmured, quivering in trepidation. Her flesh prickled with a chill that permeated the room.

  In an instant, the mirror before her misted over. The temperature plummeted to an icy degree, making her shiver uncontrollably.

  "You brought me into existence, Allendra. Everything happened just as it was meant to. You made me do all of the unpleasant tasks."

  "But that's not true," Allendra protested.

  "What, pray tell, isn't true? Are you afraid to face your own darkness?" The laughter cascaded again, causing the mirrors to quake.

  "I was merely safeguarding myself."

  "All right then, why did you clandestinely infuse the lethal fungi into the ship's provisions?" inquired the voice.

  "Later, I became repentant. I penned a missive and ensconced it in the drawer for my aunt to discover."

  "Oh, how regretful. Indeed, you even inscribed a note of confession to your aunt. But, except for your aunt, everyone perished. You gave no thought to the aftermath, did you, Ally?"

  "No, it shouldn't have happened this way. It was a momentary outburst of anger."

  "The devil is adept at concealing itself within a moment of fury, Ally. But, now, we are allies," the mirrors quivered with a mirth.

  Allendra was seized with an icy chill. She slumped to the ground, her mind in a state of blankness. She could not cogitate coherently.

  "Come now, don't be like this. Together, we can do much more delightful things. Just admit that you revel in it." The voice in the mirror cajoled.

  "I regret it...""I am remorseful..."

  "Allendra, which act are you referring to? Was it the fire you started at the tender age of three, which engulfed the sacred Orion Temple?"

  "N-no, I didn't mean to. My psychic powers were too wild to control at the time. I cannot be held accountable for that."

  "And what about the black-cloaked priest? His sole duty was to escort you to Romdaht, yet you insidiously tampered with his fragile psyche. You forced your way into his mind, discovered his deepest aspirations, and exploited them to lead him to a forsaken temple in the unforgiving desert, where his fate was sealed."

  The mirror reverberated with wicked laughter, while Allendra shuddered in the frigid air.

  "I only..." the little girl's chattering teeth made it hard to speak.

  "Don't be coy, Allendra. That vile man deserved his fate. He lashed and brutalized you countless times, taught you the twisted ways of the dark language, and raped your aunt. Though we could say that she deserved it.” The voice in the mirror chuckled and continued,

  “You are acutely aware of their intentions, Allendra. They sought to enslave you and exploit your abilities for their selfish gains. They are all vile, devilish hounds, nothing more. You yearn to defy them all, to bring them to their knees. And isn't it your unyielding ambition that keeps me thriving, that makes me even stronger?"

  Allendra ground her teeth in frustration. "You are nothing but a leech," she bellowed with fierce intensity.

  "Say my name, Allendra. Come now, scream it!"

  "This is my vessel," the little one attempted to hold her ground.

  "You must share it with me. You cannot elude me, Allendra. And in time, I shall possess you. For you are frail."

  With fury raging inside her, Allendra rose to her feet and savagely smashed the mirror in front of her. The glass shattered into countless shards, slicing her hands and fingers as she cried out in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  The symphony of pleasure and cries of agony commingled, filling the room.

  "Much like the blade you plunged into the priest's back, is it not? It grants you eternal ecstasy. To be consumed by the rapture of pain in the present," a voice resonated from a distant mirror, its tone twisted in sadistic and masochistic delight.

  The voice grew louder from a nearby mirror. The temperature in the room had increased slightly. Allendra struggled to stand up, closing her eyes and striving to concentrate.

  "Come on, Allendra. I am not the one you seek. The answer you seek lies in the past. And how fortunate you are to be in the Realm of Ideas. In this realm, mirrors serve as windows to the past. Wield your power and conjure the truth. The solution to your enigma awaits you. You already know it. Seize this opportunity. It will not always present itself."

  Despite her reluctance to heed the chaotic voice, Allendra envisioned the past. She knew that mirrors could be potent enough to reflect history, especially in this metaphysical plane she inhabited.

  The journey was perilous, yet the little girl surrendered to her curiosity. Armed with fragmentary knowledge, she visualized the former state of the place. The key to her query. Guided solely by her mind, she embarked on an odyssey through the brittle mirrors of veracity.

  In the past, this ballroom was alive with the sound of laughter and the rhythm of dancing feet. The revelers were filled with hope and joy, even if their gaiety was a veneer masking their true emotions. The chaos of war raged on outside, yet it was of no consequence to them. Even as people in the city starved to death, they turned a blind eye. Wasn't this the root of her parents' misfortune?

  Leandra lingered in the room, cloaked in an aura of darkness and disorder. A man stood by her side, his complexion as pallid and lifeless as a corpse. Their conversation was different from the others, enshrouded in a veil of mystery. It was as if a curtain had been drawn over them, shielding the dark silhouette lurking behind. The stench of decay suddenly filled the air, suffocating and putrid.

  Allendra struggled to focus on the man hidden by the imaginary curtain. He pointed to a spot for Leandra and gestured towards a woman in the distance. Allendra's emotions surged as she recognized her mother, Alleyna, radiating a pure and unblemished beauty that contrasted with her aunt's. Alleyna's aura shimmered with light, and she smiled at those around her, exuding an aura of positivity.

  The mirrors remained in the ballroom, and Allendra gazed into one of them in her mind. At that moment, the man strode past one of the mirrors, and the magical curtains surrounding him faltered for a brief instant against the mirrors of the past. A ghastly face, replete with a malevolent aura of negativity, glared back at her. The man's features were mottled with decay, his cheekbones protruding from his skin. His pupils shone like green emeralds, full of malice and malevolence.

  Allendra quivered in fear, her gaze averted. She felt as if she were on the brink of death. She longed to flee, to put as much distance between herself and the situation as possible, but then her attention was caught by a movement.

  The man was creeping closer to her mother, Alleyna, with a treacherous gait.

  A scream erupted from Allendra's throat. "No!" she shouted. But it seemed no one heard her.

  Alleyna and Leandra exited the room together, and the lifeless man stealthily trailed after them. Allendra endeavored to block his path, but it was to no avail. Some intangible force seemed to prevent her from reaching her mother. She could only pass by him.

  Her aunt and mother descended into the cellar, where they lingered amid the aging wine barrels.

  The man waited for a while. Then, without warning, he emerged from the shadows. Alleyna's back was turned to him.

  Allendra's desperation to act intensified, and she felt a burning desire to shatter the world around her.

  Leandra could see the man as well, but she only smiled wickedly. It was the first time Allendra had seen her aunt behave in such a vile manner. Suddenly, the man extended his fingers, and a sickly sphere of negative energy materialized before him. It hovered in slow motion before hitting Alleyna in the back, causing her to crumple to the ground. The man approached her prone form, a revolting and lascivious expression upon his decayed lips, and Leandra burst into fits of malicious laughter.

  Allendra's mind was consumed with terror as she screamed once more, another mirror shattering into fragments. This time, the shards flew perilously close to her face, embedding themselves into her skin. Gazing into another mirror, she saw that her face was now unrecognizable, shattered beyond all hope of repair.

  "Behold, you do comprehend my emotions at last," the voice spoke with a velvety tone imbued with genuine wrath and obscurity.

  "Leandra must meet her demise," it declared with conviction.

  "Indeed, Allendra. 'Tis what I have endeavored to articulate. She merits nothing less than a most excruciating death, full of unspeakable torment. For many months, she beguiled our mother and father, leading them to their demise. And yet, you still bestow upon this woman a chance at redemption and life. Wherefore, my dearest Ally? Forgiveness is impossible for such a heinous crime. The elderly sage erred, and you are aware of this truth."

  "I shall recollect this until the day of retribution."

  "I shall stand beside thee, wielding all my might. Together, we are invincible, my cherished Ally."

  A solitary mirror adorned the dim chamber. The little girl reflected in it was cackling with merriment. She knew in her heart that her unrivaled castle of thoughts, boundless in its scope, was naught but a twisted reflection of actuality.

  * * *

  As the sun began to set on the day Arvedas and Xian made port, a small girl suddenly materialized before their ship in the harbor. Lena dashed towards Allendra, enfolding her in a tight embrace. Allendra's face betrayed a despondency and hopelessness that stirred pity in those who beheld it. Her mouth barely opened, and many assumed she was mute.

  The following day, the Blue Oyster embarked on a long and silent voyage, first to Illinthia, then Quartry Harbor, with Allendra speaking scarcely and eating little. When they finally reached Quartry, the woman and child parted ways in solemn silence. Save for Arvedas and Xian, who trailed them at a distance as they journeyed northward, none gave them a second glance.

  Their trek came to a halt in a small town near Anthedia, where the woman and child started anew. Soon, the old wizard, Sarcastic the Wise appeared, having been informed by Xian of their whereabouts. He escorted the two elves back to their homeland. After listening carefully to their stories, the sage thanked them, and they bade each other farewell.

  After that fateful day, Sarcastic relentlessly scoured the land for months, unyielding in his pursuit of finding his wayward friend. It was only when he stumbled upon Paliborn Quickhand in a far-flung hamlet in the Illuthar continent, a settlement so obscure it wasn't even cartographically acknowledged, that the elderly sorcerer was moved to tears. He clasped his old friend in a tight embrace, his heart heavy with sorrow for the profound transformation that had overtaken Paliborn. Together, they charted a course northward.

  Paliborn's curiosity was insatiable. "Pray tell, sir Sandman, where are we headed? Shall we venture to the depths of the ocean and delight in piscine delicacies? My palate positively yearns for a taste of succulent octopus, or perhaps we shall feast on serpent flesh? I wonder, do you share my fondness for snakes?"

  "I have a candidate in mind for the position of wizard, and I wish for you to meet her. It is my hope that she will become my apprentice, and I seek your counsel on the matter," replied the wise old mage.

  "A wizard, you say? Oh, how I adore them! I have encountered several in my travels, though their names elude me now. No doubt they paled in comparison to your greatness, but they may have exceeded your talents. My mind feels as if a cacophony of kettles is clamoring within it, but fear not, my friend. I shall assist you in training this new apprentice. I have several magical concepts in mind, such as using black pepper as a component for the fireball incantation..."

  Paliborn paused, his thoughts drifting momentarily before resuming, "But I digress. An apprentice would be a most propitious endeavor, and together we shall embark on a journey of experimentation. With my expedited tutelage and guidance, she shall swiftly evolve into a formidable wizard."

  As they traversed the terrain, Paliborn persisted in expounding his wild schemes, never faltering or fatigued. The elder wizard listened patiently, occasionally interjecting, but mostly consumed by a pervasive sense of melancholy. Much like Paliborn, he yearned to forget the past, if only it were possible.

  But the act of forgetting proved to be an arduous feat, and being forgotten was even more onerous.

  One day, a glimmer of hope emerged in the hearts of those who remembered, as they yearned for the forgotten one to be remembered once more...

  THE END Of PART 1