There is nothing better than a draw, only perhaps a victory.
For a moment, the kid stood still, his eyes flickering with a mix of hope, doubt, and disbelief—then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished. Literally.
Aleshio merely smiled indulgently and took a few steps forward. He raised his hand and gently ruffled the boy's hair, as if handling something fragile. At first, I was confused, seeing nothing but empty air. Then, slowly, the illusion dissolved, revealing the trembling figure before us.
Every muscle in the boy's body tensed as he closed his eyes and bowed his head, lips pressed into a firm line. He couldn't bring himself to meet Aleshio's gaze. Aleshio, however, seemed unfazed. He stood quietly, watching the mage with a calm, almost fatherly presence.
He smiled—a smile unlike any I'd seen before. It wasn't a smirk or a grin laced with sarcasm or superiority. It was soft, gentle, the kind of smile that dawns when you encounter a long-lost joy or recall a tender memory. It was a smile that spoke of forgiveness, of the simple pleasure of seeing someone dear.
For the first time since we met, Aleshio's expression was entirely free of calculation or pretense. It was pure, a genuine moment of affection for his disciple. If Livius had looked up then, he would have seen what I saw: Aleshio had never been angry with him.
I realized I had been holding my breath, not wanting to disturb the fragile intimacy of the moment. It was a scene meant for them alone.
"It's good to see you again, Liv," Aleshio said softly, his voice warm, almost tender, as though he were addressing a child.
With that, Aleshio withdrew his hand and turned to leave. Livius, caught off guard, reached out, his hands grasping at air. He was too late. His expression twisted in anguish, haunted by memories that clearly still held him captive.
Aleshio didn't turn back, not even once. Perhaps he understood that Livius wouldn't want him to witness his vulnerability. It was strange to realize that no matter how strong a man might be, no matter how strong a king might get, even they had their weaknesses.
Long moments passed before Livius finally lowered his hand. He might have remained frozen in my doorway indefinitely if I hadn't cleared my throat. Startled, he looked up, as though just remembering my presence.
"Sorry," he mumbled, quickly composing himself and flashing a broad, boyish grin. "I'm Livius. Nice to meet you."
"Hello," I replied coolly. Despite my tone, he didn't seem bothered in the least.
I sized up the small mage once more. He appeared to be about ten years old, with unruly brown curls and enigmatic green eyes. I had to remind myself of the fact that I was dealing with the famous Sorcerer Lord, it seemed so unbelievable that I actually found it hard to accept.
Still, I couldn't ignore the bone-handled umbrella he clutched—a distinctive feature of his. The Sorcerer Lord was never seen without it, and now I understood why.
Perhaps weary of the cold, he sidestepped me and entered my apartment with an air of familiarity. He glanced up, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.
"I've been wanting to meet you for some time," he admitted.
I sighed. "Am I that famous?"
Livius chuckled. "Among the lords, yes."
I kept my gaze fixed on his face. "Should I consider that an honor?"
It was no honour. It was trouble.
Livius was not bothered by my sharp gaze. "Imagine my surprise when I heard my Master had taken you as a disciple—even though you're not a mage."
Well, shit happens.
"It made me pretty curious," he continued.
I offered no response. There's nothing more dangerous than a curious mage.
"I'm impressed," he said, his tone light. "You don't seem fazed by the presence of one of the most powerful mages alive. In fact, the look in your eyes suggests you could kill me in an instant."
I didn't bother to deny it, and his chuckle indicated he found it amusing.
"Wait here," I said as we stepped into the living room. "I need to inform my companions that I've just accepted another suicide mission."
The Sorcerer Lord nodded and promptly perched on the couch, his eyes glittering with excitement and curiosity, not leaving me until I disappeared into the kitchen.
Alex and Rolo sat at the table, their expressions taut with anticipation as I stepped into the room.
"You agreed," Alex said, a statement rather than a question.
I closed the door quietly behind me, allowing the gravity of the situation to settle in.
"What have we gotten ourselves into now?" he asked, though there was no resentment in his voice. His faint grin betrayed a sense of inevitability, as if he had seen this outcome coming all along.
Rolo, in contrast, didn't even acknowledge my presence. He remained focused on his book, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. It was his way of pretending everything was fine, as if this meeting wasn't about the looming threat of disaster. I sighed and took a seat.
"This timing couldn't be worse," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. "Alice and Des are tied up in their meeting, and Coffee is at the conference with her father. That leaves just the three of us..."
"Don't count me in," Rolo interjected without looking up.
"I know it wasn't right to make the decision alone..." I began, but Rolo cut me off.
"It's not that you decided alone," he snapped, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine. His glare was fierce, a look that could make even monsters hesitate. "You have no idea the danger you've thrown us into again! Don't you realize we could die?!"
"I know," I replied, my voice steady.
"Then why did you agree to it?!" he demanded.
"Because we don't have a choice," I answered calmly. "If we don't act, we're dead anyway."
"If you didn't constantly seek out danger, maybe not!" he shot back.
"You don't have to agree with me," I said evenly. "But you chose to be part of my famiglia. You can either accept my decision or leave. The choice is yours."
That was the breaking point. Rolo slammed his pen down on the table and stood abruptly.
"Maybe I should go," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "I don't know what I was thinking, partnering up with you."
I opened my mouth to respond, but Alex beat me to it.
"Are you finished?" Alex's voice was calm, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Unusually, he remained the calmest among us, though maybe he did not really understand the gravity of our situation. Rolo finally took a seat, annoyed and clearly offended.
"If we waste time fighting each other," Alex continued, his tone measured, "we'll find the world destroyed before we even have a chance to save it."
"The wolf is right," Livius announced as he stepped into the room, his voice calm yet urgent. "We are running out of time."
All eyes turned to me, seeking an explanation.
"Allow me to introduce the Sorcerer Lord," I said, gesturing towards the young figure beside me. The boy nodded, his demeanor as poised as it was unsettling.
The room fell into a stunned silence. Alex's jaw practically hit the floor, and Rolo's wide-eyed stare made it seem like his eyeballs might pop out and roll across the floor. The sheer weight of the moment pressed down on them, rendering them speechless.
Livius took the last empty chair, the table almost level with his chin, yet he exuded a quiet confidence that belied his small frame. He chuckled softly, allowing the shock to settle into a tense, electrified quiet.
"Is there something you're not telling us?" I asked, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
The Sorcerer Lord looked up at me, his large, seemingly innocent eyes meeting mine. My friends exchanged glances of disbelief, but Livius, as always, seemed unfazed. He merely chuckled again, his amusement unfaltering.
"No, nothing important," he mused, his tone almost playful. "At least, nothing you don't already know."
"I don't trust you," I said flatly. "What proof do you have that you're not the one trying to unite the two worlds for your own gain?"
My eyes locked onto his, silently conveying the accusation I couldn't voice aloud: Are you trying to ease your conscience by freeing Aleshio from the prison where he was trapped in your place?
The mage's eyes widened slightly. "So, you know my story..."
I crossed my arms, maintaining my steady gaze. He giggled, an unexpected reaction that only added to the tension.
"I see what you're thinking," he grinned, his voice light despite the gravity of the situation. "You assume I turned to necromancy to bring my brother back."
"Isn't that the case?" I asked, my brows arching in suspicion.
He shook his head. "No. Anyone familiar with the Mirrorworld wouldn't even consider such a thing."
"Alex?" I turned slightly to my friend.
"I don't smell a lie," Alex confirmed, his voice steady.
Good. There was no disturbance in the mage's heartbeat either. The Sorcerer Lord chuckled again, his expression inscrutable.
"You certainly live up to your reputation," he observed.
"One more thing," I said, my tone unwavering. "I want to see the fifth amulet. You have it, don't you?"
His eyes sparkled. "Indeed, I do."
Despite his confirmation, he made no move to reveal the amulet. Instead, he studied us with those enigmatic, knowing eyes.
"If I grant your request, how will you gain my trust?"
he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips.
"You're the one seeking our help," I replied coolly. "Convince us you're worth the risk."
His grin widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "A sly monster indeed."
I matched his grin, leaning slightly forward. "So, do you need our help or not?"
With a knowing smirk, he reached beneath his robes and retrieved a tiny gold medallion that hung around his neck. With a swift flick, he unlocked the chain and placed it carefully on the table before us.
His fingers traced the intricate polygon engraved on the cover plate, and in an instant, the pendant flashed open, as if obeying some hidden command. Inside, a strange device was revealed. It hummed softly, a complex network of gears turning in a perpetual, silent motion. It resembled a clock without a face—no dial, only stationary hands with tiny jewels embedded at their tips, each pulsing with a rhythmic glow. On the inside of the cover plate, an indistinct, jagged mark was etched.
"I use it to store my magical power," he said nonchalantly, folding the device back together with a deft movement and tucking it under his robe once more. "Anything else you'd like to know?"
"How do we prevent the end of the world?"
He straightened, his expression serious. "I suggest we find the third regalia before the necromancer does."
I nodded slowly, processing the gravity of his words. "Your plan is solid, but we don't even know what the amulet looks like or where it is."
He raised a finger, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I know."
With a casual wave of his hand, the cupboard door swung open, and a salt shaker flew into his grasp. He unscrewed the top, setting it down in the center of the table. Then, with the flourish of a maestro, he began to weave his magic.
The fine particles inside the shaker lifted into the air, swirling like a slow-moving cloud of smoke. Gradually, the particles began to form a shape—an elliptical pendant, delicate and translucent. As it spun in the air, I realized it wasn't a pendant at all, but rather a button, its intricate design unmistakable.
"Okay, now we know what it looks like," I said, but the frustration was evident in my voice. "But that damn button could be anywhere in the world."
"My Master created it after..." he trailed off, a shadow crossing his face as he stopped himself from revealing too much.
Rolo, who had been silent until now, suddenly stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Wait here," he said, his voice urgent. Without another word, he was gone.
He dashed upstairs, returning shortly with a book in hand. He opened it and placed it down on the table. It was the first time I'd seen this hand-drawn picture book, its cover worn with age.
[One night, the whole world celebrated. So many stars streaked across the sky, passing over our land to witness the birth of a special baby.]
The pages were yellowed with time, but the illustrations still seemed to glow with life. In the first drawing, a baby lay peacefully in a cradle at the edge of the image, surrounded by a tranquil landscape. Above, a multitude of shooting stars lit up the sky, their trails bright against the night.
[But one tiny shooting star, curious about the dazzling spectacle, ventured closer. Intoxicated by the world's glittering wonders, it strayed from its safe path.]
The next drawing showed a lone shooting star, spiraling off-course into the dark expanse of the sky. In the following page, it fragmented into tiny white pieces as it collided with the earth.
[As it fell, it shattered into a thousand fragments. Moved by pity, ancient magic wove a tiny snow-white flower from the shards.]
The illustration now revealed delicate white flowers—familiar, and all too vivid.
[To be nearest to the home of the longing little star, blooming in the dizzy heights of the mountains. This flower is called the edelweiss.]
In the final image, the edelweiss flower bloomed atop a high mountain peak, its delicate petals shimmering against the backdrop of the starry sky.
Livius blinked, taken aback. "Where did you find this book?"
"My father drew it," Rolo replied nonchalantly, then met our gazes with newfound seriousness. "I think I know where the button is."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"My family..." he began, faltering slightly before continuing, "They had a deep interest in magic. They collected artifacts, magical books, and enchanted items. We had this massive box that my father forbade me from opening, but I saw it once—inside, there was a tiny, seemingly insignificant button, exactly like the one you showed me."
"The Guardians," the Sorcerer Lord said quietly. "Your family was one of them, wasn't it? One of the last of the Guardians."
Rolo nodded. I glanced between them, still puzzled, raising an eyebrow to signal my confusion.
"In the beginning, magic wasn't as divided as it is now," Livius explained, leaning forward. "It all began with the creation of the most dangerous artifacts. There were two ideologies, and mages split into two groups."
"Some believed that artifacts were too dangerous to be used, so the Guardians were tasked with collecting and controlling them," he continued. "The other group, known as the Inner Circle of Magic, wanted to use those artifacts to reshape the world according to their own ideals."
It wasn't surprising I hadn't heard of this—history of mages had never interested me much.
"The number of Guardians dwindled over time, while the Inner Circle grew in power. There are still a few Guardians today, but they're rare, scattered across the world," Livius added with a laugh. "Fate certainly has a sense of humor. Who would've thought one of your companions would be a descendant of them?"
"Where's the box?" I asked, my voice steady despite the weight of the revelation.
Rolo shrugged but his movement was stiff.
"It must be in our old house somewhere," Rolo said, his voice distant. "In the basement, I think."
"Let's go then," Alex said, jumping to his feet.
Rolo waved him off, shaking his head. "Not possible. Not right now."
"Why?" The wolf's brow furrowed.
"The basement's protected by powerful spells that won't even let me through at the moment," Rolo admitted with a resigned sigh. "If it weren't for that, I would've already retrieved the relics."
"Blood magic?" Livius asked, his tone thoughtful.
Rolo nodded slowly. "Exactly."
"Then even I won't be able to break it," Livius murmured, his voice carrying a touch of reluctance.
I turned to Rolo. "Why can't you enter?"
"Only the head of the family has access," he replied, a somber look on his face. "And right now, I'm the last one left."
"But you're not old enough to become head of the family yet," I said, finishing his thought for him. He gave a quiet nod.
"I'll be old enough in two years," he added, his voice a mix of resignation and determination.
Meanwhile, Livius muttered to himself, "I can't imagine a better defense for a regalia."
"So, we're supposed to wait two years to get the regalia?" Alex asked, sounding almost defeated.
"No," I said, causing everyone to turn their attention to me.
Livius' eyes gleamed with a calculating, inquisitive light. Alex was clearly puzzled, and Rolo looked at me, disbelief written across his face. He probably knew what I was thinking.
"If the coming-of-age ritual is performed, the spell will let you in, won't it?" I asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
Rolo looked uncertain but nodded. "Yes, but only the leader of the cats can perform the ceremony. And he won't agree to it."
I stood up, brushing off the thought with a wave of my hand. "I've got things to do. I'll be back in an hour."
Alex sighed deeply, but I winked at him before turning and leaving the kitchen.