“I would rather die,” Liron said, pointing his dagger at Angin.

  The Alchemist held Amor’s hand towards him. “Don’t be so prude, Liron. You must be hurting. Let me heal you.”

  “Then use gold! There must be some in the cellar.”

  “Sure, but we need it, Liron. We can’t waste anything. Including the dead cunt.”

  After their hard-earned victory, Angin had crawled to Amor, transmuting the corpse to restore his body. The Alchemist had put on the assassin’s pants, his own clothes all burnt up. As the damage to him was severe, Angin had used up most of Amor, only one hand and pieces of his limbs remaining.

  Liron sneered, lowering his knife. “Th… there is no other way?”

  Angin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his hand. “No. And now hold still.”

  Considering the Alchemist had regained his body, all wounds gone, Liron accepted his fate. The pieces of Amor melted in Angin’s hand, becoming clay in his hands. He had explained to Liron that this was a temporary state when one transmutes one object into another. Alchemists took advantage of this, allowing them to remodel things by keeping them in this state.

  Liron’s wounds flared up at first, stinging as Angin fused the foreign flesh with them. The pain soon vanished, Angin blocking it for the occasion. He offered to keep it that way.

  “Is rather useful. You saw what the ass did to me. Didn’t feel a thing.”

  “Well… I’d like to keep my body the way it is.”

  Angin rolled his eyes. “Well, do you want me to lessen it, at least? That’s what most highborns do. It’ll still be there, but it won’t be as strong as before.”

  Liron didn’t relish the thought of having himself changed in any way, but his fight with Amor lingered in his mind, the agony fresh. “Fine, it’ll help, I guess.”

  “That’s my boy!”

  Liron didn’t watch as Angin healed him. He glimpsed at it once, seeing the Alchemist fish out the bones of the hand before applying the flesh to him. The procedure didn’t appear to tax Angin, his expression cool and relaxed.

  “Ehr… Angin?” Liron asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you talk while… doing this.”

  Angin laughed. “Of course. Not my first time. What’s bothering you?”

  Liron massaged his head. His head was killing him since waking up. Now, with the Alchemist repairing his body, the pain left him. “Am I… a Wizard now?”

  Angin nodded, sighing. “Unfortunately, yes, my boy. I don't know what you owe such a cruel fate to, but you have become one indeed.”

  Liron stared at Angin. Nothing but the sound of Angin applying Amor’s hand to Liron filled the silence. Wet and succulent.

  “Alright, allow me to explain. Alchemists and Wizards have never seen eye to eye. There is some bad blood between us. Cowards and liars claim it to be in the past, but this is just not true.”

  “What happened?”

  “Records are… well, shit. But what we can tell with certainty is that Wizards and Alchemists originated around the same time. Apparently, this was during the time when Harras ruled over Ekon himself. Don’t believe in that myself, but whatever. Well, Wizards and Alchemists started to fight, and Wizards won. What do you know about Harras’s Last Dawn?”

  “That was when Harras was betrayed by some of humanity,” Liron said. Everyone in Eisenrahm, even Emma, knew about this story. “They were tainted by Drom’s influence. They used his strength to nearly kill Harras. In response, He gifted the founding fathers of the Sacred Houses, His high priests, with their gifts. After they defeated the traitors, Harras left Ekon to them, having to retreat from ruling Ekon Himself because of His injuries.”

  “Yes. They’ve beaten that story into you. Well, those traitors were all wizards. They called themselves the Council of Ekon. Can you believe it? The audacity.”

  “I’ve never heard about this.”

  “Of course not. Warpriests simplify their story for townsfolk so you don’t question too much. In bigger cities, they stick with their original version. Can’t lie there, as city folk tend to be more educated. They would quickly figure out their lies. It’s actually quite smart. They don’t just tell one different version to you in the countryside. They go for different versions for each region. To make sure you have all these little differences in belief and custom that will cause friction. Controlled infighting and distrust are easier to handle.”

  Wizards were an essential part of the war in Sannara. Each new delivery of war posters featured at least one famed Wizard fighting the endless horde of Qilesh. “But,” Liron said, “if the Wizards attacked and betrayed Harras, why would the Empire still trust them.”

  “Well, technically, it’s not the Wizards, but just Wizards. Not all charlatans were part of the Council of Ekon and fought against Harras. During Featherfall, when the Council got Harras and his angels good, many Wizards fought on His side.

  “But I think that’s bullocks. Wizards are simply too useful. The Empire needs them, but they know how dangerous they can become. This is why they put an inherited guilt on them. Harras told his followers to forgive Wizards and stuff, but the Empire will never let Wizards forget what their predecessors apparently did. They want to keep their Wizards on a short leash, but they are willing to make compromises. Like with the Frederick-Tolbert University.”

  “What’s that? An uni… sity?”

  “Fuck me, the Empire really shielded you from the outside world. To make it short, a university is a big place to learn and reach the highest form of education. The Frederick-Tolpert University is meant for Wizards. They aren’t a part of the Empire, but the Empire sends its brightest bootlickers there to get better.

  “Otherwise, the Empire doesn’t fuck with them. Too much trouble. I don’t wanna know how many Archmages live there. Would be a bloody fight to try to take them on. No chance they can do this with the Qilesh still being a threat. You know, it’s kinda funny. You asked about how the Empire holds back the Qilesh from devouring Ekon. It’s the other way around, too. Without the Qilesh, the Empire would have tried to conquer everything.”

  “I see…” Liron said. He never knew how to respond to these history lessons. Angin loved to hold them, but he hit Liron over the head with them, burying him with their sheer density.

  “Wh… what does it mean to be a Wizard?”

  Angin snorted, his face puckering like he had bitten on something spoiled. “Well, I don’t know too much. But the basis of how Wizards do their shit is that they have something called a Gate. It’s like… a world inside of you.”

  Liron rubbed his eyes. “A what?”

  “I’ve told you that Magic is nonsense! I don’t know what that's supposed to mean either. All I know is that every person has a Gate and that they’re all different from one another. Though some could be so similar that there’s barely a difference. Your Gate is always linked to an element or something natural.

  “For example, Amor’s Gate was fire. Yours is something with smoke. That’s where Magic comes from. But you can’t just open your Gate and attack with whatever is behind it. The power is too chaotic to be controlled. So, you need something to summon it through. Think of it like a bottleneck. That is called a Conduit.”

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  Liron nodded. “Amor’s was a needle, and mine is my knife. And the Conduit changes what you can do, right?”

  “Superb, Liron! Yes, a Conduit functions as a tool to summon your Gate’s power through, but the Conduit will shape how this power manifests. As Amor’s Conduit was a needle, his fire magic could stitch things together and create flame needles . You have a knife, so you can… cut and stab with your smoke.

  “Well, and here comes why Magic and Wizards are all full of shit. The way your Magic manifests depends on how you perceive your Conduit. What you think about it, and what concepts you associate with it.”

  “I don’t get that.”

  “Exactly! It’s nonsense! Alchemy is the art of understanding things as they are. Magic is taking this and throwing it away. Take Amor as an example. He had chosen a needle as a Conduit. What did he associate with this? Stabbing things, stitching things together, burning you from the inside.

  “His perception and conviction of what his Conduit can do dictated how his fire manifested. Thank Solia, this has clear limitations. For example, his needle couldn’t make him fly or… I don’t know, just explode. It’s still just a fucking needle. He can fuck with its size and the thread, but otherwise, he can’t just change what it is. This is why you usually should take your time when picking a Conduit. Furthermore, he couldn’t just freeze things with his needle. His Gate was fire. The Conduit gives your Gate certain properties, but it doesn’t alter them fundamentally.”

  Liron summoned his knife in his hand, the smoke becoming solid underneath his touch. “So, my smoke can cut because of my knife… even if it’s just smoke.”

  “Exactly, Liron.”

  “What else can it do?”

  “Well… it’s fucking smoke and embers. You could make someone suffocate… or… fuck, I don’t know! I hate Magic! Liron, I still consider you my apprentice, and I will help you along the way, but I’m the wrong one to ask such things. Magic barely makes sense. If you think this is complicated, just wait until you reach the next ranks.”

  “Ranks?”

  “Yes. There are five, each representing a level of mastery you have over your Conduit and Gate. You are the lowest, an apprentice. Somebody that just opened their Gate and has decided on a Conduit. Not unheard of that you did so without help, but it's quite rare. In this rank, your abilities will be the most superficial and simple.

  “The next one is Initiate. Amor should have been one. Then comes Mage, Master, and finally Archmage. Takes years to climb the ladder. Decades even.”

  “What does change with each rank?”

  Angin rolled his eyes. “Apologies, Liron, but I can’t stand to explain more of this Magic shit. Currently, it’s not that important for you. You need to discover what your Conduit and Gate can do by… experimenting, I guess.”

  Liron blinked. “Exper… what?”

  “Ehr… you have to try out what your knife can do now.”

  Liron studied his knife, letting his hand slide over its black blade. As he watched the smoke plumes rise from it, ember accompanying them, a thought occurred to him. “Angin…,” he said, his throat tightening up. “Now that I’m a Wizard… do I still have a bond with Everon?”

  The corner of Angin’s mouth twitched, a sad smile spreading over his lips. “I’ve hoped you wouldn’t realize it immediately. Truth be told, Liron, I can’t say. There has never been a Knight Dracon that wielded Magic. It could be the case that these abilities reject one another, like Magic and Alchemy, but it doesn’t have to be necessarily.

  “Another explanation why we’ve never seen a Draconist with Magic could be that the Empire doesn’t allow one to come to be. Think about it. The Empire controls the Society of the Dragon. They can enforce their rules on them. They don’t want the order to become too powerful.

  “The Empire relies on a delicate balance between all its parts. If one of them becomes too strong, they would threaten this balance. With certain elements they don’t have to worry about. Members of Sacred House, for example, can’t learn Magic nor Alchemy. Their gift has replaced their Gate. A Knight Dracon who is also an Archmage would be one of the most powerful beings on Ekon. Liron, if you become such a being, you could fight a Cyoon and have a chance to win.”

  Liron gulped, a shudder rushing over his skin. The Cyoons ruled the Qilesh. Six monstrosities, each a walking calamity. No single man, not even the Promised Dawn, an Archmage, or the Emperor himself, could dare to fight on alone. Imagine withstanding these monsters and becoming a threat to them.

  “What’s with the Fallen?” Liron asked. “They are not controlled by the Empire. Couldn’t they become Wizards also?”

  Angin grimaced, looking away. “The Fallen are more corpses than men. They sacrificed most of their humanity in their bond to their carcass dragons. I can’t imagine they still possess a Gate.”

  “I see,” Liron said, letting his knife disappear. “There’s another thing, Angin. I didn’t open my Gate… a tree did it.”

  Angin’s expression remained neutral. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with something starving, desperate to learn more. "Interesting. Tell me more.”

  “It happened when Amor had me. I got really… really angry. I screamed at him, and suddenly I was gone. Well, I was still there, but everything changed for a few seconds. I was flying… somewhere with a massive tree in front of me… also flying. It didn’t say something out loud, but it… sent me a thought. It told me to stay ambitious, and then I was in front of Amor with the idea of Smoke and Ember in my head.”

  Angin rubbed his chin, deep in thought. He had finished healing Liron, standing up, and walking in a circle. “Truly fascinating. A being that created a mental link between the two of you, summoned your psyche to an unknown place, and unlocked your Gate for you.”

  “Have you ever heard of something like this?”

  “There have been rumors. They never described it as a tree, but they all mentioned ambition as an ideal to appear in their head. These… sightings have been rare, but usually the people who reported them accomplished great things. A few Archmages, Alchemists who achieved a Magnus Opus. I can’t say anything else for certain. We would need access to the Frederick-Tolpert University’s library. Or perhaps the Grand Janloo Company might know something.”

  Liron cringed. Angin’s enthusiasm to solve yet another mystery didn’t jump over to him. “Do you think… it has something to do with the visions? With my… other self?”

  Angin stopped, his eyes searching the ground, deep in thought. “I think so. We can only guess, but it is unlikely that these two aren’t related.”

  Liron moved his arm, all pain gone. His left arm looked like nothing had happened to it, the skin smooth. There would be no scars. Angin continued to hypothesize, walking in a circle, talking more to himself than to Liron. He listened to the Alchemist, but his mind wandered.

  With his wounds gone, nothing was left to distract him anymore. He glanced at the spot where Amor had lain. While hazy, he could recall the moment his blade cut through the assassin’s throat. It was so easy. His exhaustion and anger had taken all hesitation, and before he knew it, he had ended a life.

  Liron touched his chest, feeling empty. “Angin?” he asked.

  “Hmhm?” Angin said, still thinking.

  “What are you supposed to feel after killin’ someone?”

  Angin stopped. “Well… what did you feel?”

  “It… felt good,” Liron said. The admission shocked him. “I… loved seeing him suffer. I liked… being in control. It felt good to defeat somebody stronger than me.”

  Liron hugged his knees, clenching his legs. “That’s not good, right? You’re not supposed to feel good when doin’ it.”

  Angin’s eyes seemed to age, having seen too much. “I guess so. What do you feel now?”

  “Nothing,” Liron said. “I feel nothing. No… that’s not right. I feel dirty. Numb. Like I did something I shouldn’t have.”

  “That’s good, Liron. You still have a heart.”

  Liron sniffed, suppressing his tears. He needed time to regain his composure, his voice heavy with a silent sob. “I want to do it again. A part of me, at least. It… I want to do it again. I… want to conquer it all.”

  Angin said nothing, as all words would fail to sooth Liron. He nodded, sharing the burden of the silence that followed with him. That was all he could do.