Marcus McVov turned his head towards his master of twenty-five years. The old man was hunched at the back. Grey hair dangled from the master’s hood. The old man held a scepter in his steadying his feeble and weak knees. Red Murklewood coiled up around the sides until it protruded outward from the top like a skeleton’s fingers. “Is it really time, Master Kaust?”<br/><br/><br/>“Now, you already know the answer to that. What you should be asking me is why you have fear when I have taught you not to submit to such things.”<br/><br/>“What if…”<br/><br/>“You are more than ready,” Master Kaust said as if reading his mind. “I didn’t crown you master in the arts because it was my time to go and I did not train you for nothing. You know what you were raised for or have you become so blinded by selfishness that you have lost sight of the one you vouched loyalty too?”<br/><br/>Marcus glanced at his master once more. He’d always wondered how someone so innocent can be so deceiving. He was once fooled by the appearance of Master Kaust. Taking him to be weak, he learned rather quickly that he could not lay a hand on his master even if he tried with all his might. Even with him being so close to death, he knew that his master could defend himself. Though angered by the childish ridicule of the old man, Marcus did the same as he did all those years ago, swallowed his spit and shook his head, “No.” That was all he could muster to hold back his fury.<br/><br/>“Do you doubt my judgments young one?”<br/><br/>“No.”<br/><br/>“Then everything will be fine. Even if I would have passed 20 years ago, you would still be standing here today a master. My hand merely guided you, you did all the laboring.” Master Kaust stopped abruptly turning towards Marcus. His hand reached up and grabbed the edge of his hood and slipped it back until it rested on his shoulders. “Extend your right hand.”<br/><br/>Marcus hesitated for a moment but yielded his hand forward. He observed as his master took his own hand and then placed it on top of his palm. “Magic is in the air,” Master Kaust said with a smile on his face. “I guess the timing of the gods is always right.” The old man closed his eyes, “Et’vah Secklam duveiah sah vekrum Schorich… By the power of the god mage himself, god Achlaar, I impart everything I have into this young one. Give him power, let him see who he truly is destined to be, goodbye Marcus. Jekaar.”<br/><br/><br/>Marcus stood in silence. One second the old man was there, the next he was gone. He’d witnessed him vanish a few times over the years, but this was different. He turned to the left and right, nothing. He tilted his head towards the ground and where his master once stood his robe lay in his place with his scepter lying across it as if he’d neatly folded it. The mage thought of crying, but that kind of emotion was forbidden by his master at a young age. He would have no tolerance for such weakness, so to pay honor, he held his tears back.<br/><br/>The mage took the pack saddled around his shoulders and knelt to retrieve his master’s garments. He gathered up the clothing and placed them in the small brown recess of space. Then he noticed his scepter. Another rule that he would have to break, his master forbade him of touching it. However, he couldn’t shame him by leaving his most prized possession behind. He reached out and grabbed the staff.<br/><br/><br/>A calm wind passed through the air as his hand wrapped around the rod. Marcus crinkled his brow as he started to feel a tingling in his fingers. It crept up his arm until it reached his shoulder. The wind blew harder until the trees around him started to bend as if they were mere noodle strings. “What is happening?!” He yelled as the tingling took over his entire being. His heart palpitating faster by the second, the winds grew heavier and finally lifted him into the air. At that point, Marcus was certain that he wouldn’t make it through this day alive. He’d broken one of the rules that he’d been warned about and because of it, he would suffer this horrible death. It wasn’t until he was finished thinking that he noticed he stood once more on solid ground.<br/><br/><br/>“M-magic is in the air tonight,” Marcus said. He continued to walk down the path and lived the next few hours reliving what just happened. His master never explained how he knew it was his time, but every master had their chamber of hidden secrets, the old man wasn’t any different. He could only speculate why and that would get him nowhere.<br/><br/><br/>…<br/><br/>Over the hill, just at the edge of the woods, the sun beamed through the edge of the forest trees. The lights warmth hitting Marcus’ face for the first time in days since he’d gotten on the path to heard to his parent’s house. He stood there briefly, basking in the sun’s cloak that offered a small break during the chaos of winter.<br/><br/>Marcus made his way down the path until the familiar wash bucket came into view. The picket fence wrapped from one side of the house, on the other side, a small length was missing from the ‘bull cover story’ his father told his mother to put the blame off on him. The mage smiled as the steps creaked, everything remained exactly the same as when he left. It was as if nothing changed.<br/><br/>He raised his arm and prepared to knock on the door, but a voice cut through the air. “Hol’ it right ther mister. We don’ welcum outseeders like you comin’ on our land, ya hear? Best ya leave.”<br/><br/>Marcus lowered his arm and placed it back at his side. A smile crossed his countenance and he sighed, “Can’t do that, Ma’am.”<br/><br/>“Who the hell do ya’ think ya are? Do I have to call for me husband? I don’t want any trouble mister.”<br/><br/>“I’ve come for the girl.”<br/><br/>“What girl? I know nothin’ of the sorts.”<br/><br/>“Mom, stop the charade.”<br/><br/>“M-“ The woman’s voice struggled as the air around the two went silent. “It can’t be, Marcus?”<br/><br/>“It is I in the flesh, the one and only.”<br/><br/>“Oh my, bless the gods, Lord McVov!! Our son is home! Our son is home! Slaughter the finest cow and bring our daughter!”<br/><br/>Marcus remained still at the door as he leaned his head against its frame. “It’s good to be home.” He whispered as his mom shouted about what he was wearing and asked if he’d eaten. Before he knew it, he was scooped into the house in preparation for the dinner-feast!<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="2382" data-username="@StandingOnTheEdge" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/2382/">@StandingOnTheEdge</a>