Prologue

The blue standard of the Academy flew high in the sky, with white paint tracing the concentric shapes of a triangle in a circle in a diamond. The city name trailed after the geometric seal, but not much paid attention to the city’s name. The focus rested on the fact that the building that the pennants decorated was Academy Headquarters.
Ages old and home to as many books as mages, the Academy Headquarters was a fortress in the old days—during the Trials of Fire. When the young nations of Cordoba burned themselves in the flames of war, the Academy Headquarters went unscathed due to its neutral stance. The knowledge retained by the scholars in its walls remained safe for futuregenerations that quested for the truth. Of the successive generations, a single student stood out from the rest.
Archmage Friday, unchanged by over 600 years of teaching and learning, looked over the crowd seated on the east lawn for the 937th Graduation Ceremony. Families from all over the Kinjeti continent and some from the north and south Cordobas sat in folding chairs placed on the lawn. The students sat behind the podium; able to hear the speech and see their supporters cheer them on. Today is a great day for all the students, Friday thought. They have struggled with so much in their short lives yet so much lies ahead. Her deep brown eyes looked over the restless crowd and she began her address to the Graduating Class of 7782.
“Good afternoon. Today crowns many years of endeavor for most of our graduates. Some years hence, in the prime of your chosen calling, you’ll look back on these years spent here at the Academy fondly. You’ll look back on these days as the most challenging of your young lives, for these are the days that prepared you for your profession and much is expected of you.
“Many of you believe that I speak of magic of physical mechanics. Others think I speak of spiritual concerns, yet I do not. What I speak of is the true nature of our profession: the service of both man and beast…”
“’The service of man’”. That statement bounced around in Lessorah’s head, causing her to think back on her days studying elemental magic at the Academy. When she did, she had to struggle not to act out. The young woman’s defense mechanisms set in and she pushed her troubles away, saying aloud, “I serve no man.”
“What’d you say?” came the voice next to her.
Lessorah turned to look at Mixy, her roommate the past few years at the Academy. She had dark curly hair that spilled down her robed shoulders and soft brown eyes behind small spectacles. Her facial expression was one of concern, as it had been since she became roommates with her. Things like that made Lessorah appreciate having a friend like Mixy. Such a dear girl, Lessorah thought. Even when I was mean to her, she was always there for me.
“What? Oh, I said, ‘ I need a fan,’” Lessorah answered. “It’s hot as Natrius under this robe.”
“Yeah. You said it.” Mixy pulled her collar away. “But you should be alright, because you don’t have big hair heating up your head.
“You must’ve known before hand that today would be hot like this,” Mixy joked and said with astonishment. “So THAT’S why you cut your hair off…”
Lessorah put a hand to the back of her bare neck where her long black hair once sat and smiled a bit. The short haircut was a big departure from the long hair she had in her younger years. She was glad to be rid of the weight off her shoulders.
“By Toren, you’ve come so far. I remember when you never smiled,” Mixy said with a tinge of sadness. “It’s been a pleasure—a joy—living and working next to you, Lessorah. You’ve made me see another side of my profession as a healer.”
The healer took the hand of the elementalist and said, “I treasure you as a friend and we’ll be friends forever. Alright?”
Tears filled Lessorah’s eyes as she heard someone she grew to love proclaim her feelings. She gripped Mixy’s hand and said, “Yes, always. We have to keep in touch. Where are you going after this?”
Mixy smiled and said, “I’m going to Sumptor.”
Lessorah’s heart sank but she kept her face. She hoped Mixy had another answer than the one she imagined when she asked, “Sumptor? Why would you go there?”
“Oh. Doyle wants to move there He says if he’s going to be a ‘lawful’ citizen, he wants to start anew in a different place.”
“Doyle?” Lessorah said. “Mixy, he’s bad news.”
Mixy looked at Lessorah and said, “C’mon, Lessorah. He is a changed man; he has been since I found him. He loves me. I know it in my heart.”
Maybe if she vomited now, she could blame it on a nervous stomach. For all that the two roommates have been through, Mixy still doesn’t understand the lessons learned. Lessorah loved her roommate, but she could behave like an idiot sometimes.
“The guy used to be a thief. How do you know he’s not lying to you?”
The sadness on Mixy’s face was there when she said, “Lessorah, I know what you’ve been thought. I was there with you every step. Don’t let that moment be the defining moment in your life. If you do, the hate and anger will eat you from the inside. I understand that because of your experience, you’ll always be wary of people, but I can’t live that way.
“Toren knows what happened to you wasn’t his decree nor that of his Master. I have faith in Toren’s will and—oh wait, I think we’re supposed to stand…”
Looking around as they stood on their cascaded benches, the crowd was open to their eyes. Lessorah scanned the crowd for other people she knew, but didn’t see any. Mixy tugged on the elementalist’s shoulder and said, “Look, There’s Doyle!”
On the far left of the crowd below, midway from the stage and the back row, sat Doyle. Dressed in his usual rogueish attire and that nasty poncho of his, the swarthy thief watched the proceedings with intense gray-green eyes. When his eyes spied Mixy and Lessorah, he waved with his right hand and ran his left hand through his coifed, sun-kissed hair. A sleazy smirk spread across his face when Mixy smiled from ear to ear in response to the wave.
“I didn’t think he was going to come!” Lessorah said nothing as Archmage Friday finished her speech.
“And so, I give with great pleasure the 937th Graduating Class of the Academy in this Axian year of 7782!” The ancient at heart archmage turned to the graduates and yelled aloud, like a child, “DO IT!”
All the graduates raised their hands to the sky. Those that could use magic fired several bursts of magic, each a different color. The resultant firestorm danced over the crowd and up into the sky over Academy Headquarters. With her hands raised, Mixy looked over to Lessorah as she fired into the sky. Lessorah’s face was intensely concentrated on her burst of magic power. Suddenly, her left hand was jerked down and her right spit forth a brighter light. Lessorah looked to her left and saw Mixy holding her hand. The healer’s smiling face competed with the halo dancing about the edge of her hair. Lessorah smiled right back as she saw her own hand joined with Mixy’s They both looked at each other and shouted the oath that made them full-fledged graduates along with the other 298 graduates:

“LONG LIVE THE ACADEMY!”


“I don’t understand.”
Lessorah knew full well what was about to happen when she asked why Mixy was leaving. When she got her answer, she had to hear it again, just to be sure.
“Well,” Mixy started, “You know Doyle and I have been seeing each other since the Grand Library incident.” To drive the point home, the healer got closer to the previously mentioned Doyle. He held her close in return. “I really love him.”
“Yeah, so I keep hearing.” Lessorah looked at Doyle and said, “Do you love her?”
“Of course I do.” Doyle kissed the top of Mixy’s head and said, “She saved my life and I owe her a great deal.”
Lessorah already saw that every word out of this “former” thief’s mouth was a lie. What she couldn’t see is why Mixy wanted to leave with this trash in the first place.
“You loved him from a distance once,” Lessorah tried, “so what’s so different now that you have to go and live with him?”
A heavy sigh escaped Mixy’s lips. “Because Doyle asked me to marry him.”
Lessorah had to believe her ears this time, the exact time that she couldn’t hold her tongue. “WHAT?!” the elementalist shouted in the wide hallway leading to the courtyard and the underground catacombs. “You’re going to marry this piece of trash?”
Doyle spoke up, “Now listen here, you—”
“SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE, PRETTY BOY! I’M NOT ADDRESSING YOU!”
“WHY DON’T YOU MAKE ME” the former thief shouted back in a grievous error, “BITCH?!”
A bright orange aura enveloped Lessorah and she took aim at Doyle, thinking to pop his head like a grape. Mixy stood in her sights and shouted “NO!”
Lessorah recoiled at the thought of eradicating one of the people who saw her through the dark times and canceled her spell. “Fine,” the angry elementalist said. “I’ll just…I’ll oppose your wedding! I’ll stop it—”
With a triumphant laugh, Doyle said, “We’ve already married. We didn’t invite you because we KNEW you’d ruin it.”
Lessorah was on the edge of tears upon hearing this. She tried to see the bright side of not being invited…to her best friend’s wedding. In retrospect, she had all that time to study…
“’We’?” Mixy said. “It was your idea to not invite her to the wedding, Doyle!”
“Hmf! I only made that decision based on what you told me.”
That statement put an end to any positive thoughts in Lessorah’s head. She felt violated that her closest friend would discuss her personal problems with this insensate boob. Lessorah struggled to find the words and rasped, “How could you? How could you…”
“Honey…” Mixy moved closer to Lessorah with her arms open, saying, “Don’t worry…it’s okay. It’s just—“
“NO!” Lessorah turned and ran off into the catacomb tunnels adjoining. Mixy became worried and said to Doyle, “C’mon and help me find Lessorah before she does something drastic.”
With a disinterested “Fine”, the tanned thief followed Mixy into the catacombs. The winding tunnels beneath Academy Headquarters were more than intimidating, but the recently married couple walked the junctions shouting the elementalist’s name.
“Lessorah!” Mixy cried. “I’m sorry! Please forgive Doyle and I! He is sorry as well!”
“Wha-OOF!” Mixy elbowed him in the ribs and her expression told Doyle exactly what he should say. “Yeah, Lessorah. I’m sorry. Please come back!”
The sound of Lessorah’s name bounced off the walls of the catacombs in a wave of echoes upon echoes until it became an indecipherable shout. Lessorah was still able to hear her name being called, for the person she heard was not inside the tunnels.

“Lessorah,” the voice called. “Lessorah. Lessorah.”
No matter who calls, Lessorah thought as she covered her ears, leave me be.
“Surely you can give an audience to your Benefactor.”
Lessorah sat up in her hiding place and paid attention. Here was the second one responsible for saving her from the void. This being was her Benefactor, and she dare not show disrespect.
“Much better,” the Benefactor said.
“What would you have?” Lessorah asked aloud.
“I would have you tell me why you cry tears on an auspicious day such as this.”
“I am deserted,” Lessorah sobbed quietly, “and betrayed.”
“The healer, I assume.”
“Yes, my Benefactor. She has joined with that foul male in a union blessed by Toren and Hamar.”
“That thief you speak of.”
“Aye, my Benefactor.” Lessorah wiped her tears on her sleeve and continued. “He dared to…to disregard my worth and take my friend away…”
The voice asked, “What friend?”
“Huh?” Lessorah asked, quite confused.
“When you speak of a friend, you must mean the healer. If this healer were your friend, she would not have betrayed nor abandoned you. She—the healer—is NOT your friend.”
“But—“
“She has forsken you,” the voice of the Benefactor explained to effect, “for a man.”
It was that last line that broke Lessorah and set her on the teeth of madness. How could she? Why would she? It didn’t make sense with the things that Mixy knew, so what possessed her to do this?
“You are angry and fearful of the world, Lessorah.”
The elementalist grimaced and hung her head, saying, “Yes.”
“No,” the Benefactor countered. “You were. I saw you at your weakest. It is I who brought you from the void to serve at my side. At my side, you have grown strong. Fear not. And save your energy for the task at hand.”
The echoes in the catacomb tunnels stopped, and Lessorah was relieved. She smiled and wiped away more tears on her sleeve, revealing the scars on her wrist and down her forearm. “What do you command of me?”
“I command you to be the instrument of your own revenge. Those that harm what is dear to me shall surely suffer. You will need power and I shall grant you that power.”
The smile on Lessorah’s face got wider and she said, “Thank you, my Benefactor.” The woman emerged from her dark hiding place and walked out of the catacombs. Mixy and Doyle had left long ago, and the tunnels were empty. Lessorah spoke to herself as she approached the tunnel mouth that fed into the courtyard, a confident and happy smile on her lips. The look in her eyes revealed her true intention.
“Revenge. I shall have my revenge. So says the Benefactor.” Lessorah then added, “And so say I.”