A few candles wink at me from beyond the door as I step past the threshold. The aroma of sandalwood lingers within Aarindarius' study. Trying to be as surreptitious as possible, I take several deep breaths. No matter how much I may feign otherwise, something deep inside me still knows that it feels wonderful to be back here.

In part, at least. Emotions are such troublesome things. With each breath I take happy memories flood my mind, only to be drained away by pain and sorrow in the next.

"You don't have to pretend you're not thrilled to be back, Vaarsuvius," my master – no, my former master observes wryly, leaning against the door frame. "I can read you like a book."

I stay silent. He can read me like a book, he says? Then he would have thrown me out of the tower a long time ago.

I loved him once, when I was young. Looking at him now, hearing his voice again, I feel a spark of the old flame stir within me. Then I remember what he did to me, and the fire turns ashen-cold once more.