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There's an instant of brief confusion when Raven suddenly pushes open an attic window from outside and performs a complicated maneuver, on the edge of common sanity, sliding in like a snake.

"Doing some reading?" she asks him innocuously, as if she hasn't been dying to find out what he discovered among ruins all this time.

"Surely, you don't expect me to report to you?" Erik shuts the book with a dramatic flop. Though, he has all reasons to believe, that for anyone but him, pages will look empty. This blood magic still makes his head reel at times.

"Duh," huffs Raven, tilting her head in curious manner. "Charles is sending me away, so I came to say goodbye."

"Please, tell me you'll come back soon," mocks her Erik.

Raven ignores his implication.

"I need to see to our property remodeling," she mentions mysteriously, "Why do you think Charles was hoboing around, bothering Moira when you first met? He was actually skipping his duties."

She skids to a halt by the locked door:

"Coming?"

They take down two flights of footworn wooden stairs, as old and grouchy as everything in the small cottage. The stairs are a disaster — you should not only watch your feet out of increased chances of slipping, but also your head — low ceilings with balks is a forehead bang waiting to happen.

Prior, Erik could hardly imagine Charles leaving in such house. However, the presence of guarding charms and scrolls and quills stuck in the cupboard, where one would expect to find linens or kitchenware is less of a puzzle.

Charles is sitting on the stairs on the porch, idly stroking Beast. Their arrival obviously startles him, as they both are into persistent habit of hushing their steps.

"Raven?" he asks, still unsure.

"One and only. And Erik," she laughs and crouches to give him a quick hug and pick up her satchel. "Already leaving. Take care of yourself! And make Erik tell you what he saw in that flying castle before I arrive. He won't share with me!"

Erik grits his teeth. Really?

Any hope for secrecy turned to ashes.

"Nothing wrong with keeping something to yourself, if that's what you want," says Charles after a while.

He moves to stand up and Erik clasps his hand to stabilize him, unprompted.

"Today was almost a success," Charles goes on nonchalantly, carefully stepping up on the porch. "I tripped only four times and I've broken only one plate. When the effects of backlash are truly gone, I'll think of some technique to help me navigate the space — "

"You aren't going to need it," interrupts him Erik. "Though, you can keep breaking plates. That pot-maker must have been armless."

Charles' mouth quirks slightly, but then he frowns. Erik thinks again that his bright eyes didn't change a bit aside from now permanent far-away look, due to lack of any focus.

"Well, I have my hopes high, although magically obtained damage is trickier than," Charles pauses and suddenly drops his soft tone. "No, it obviously doesn't work. Forget about keeping things to yourself, Erik. I mean it! I expected that after I told you that, you'd share more willingly. I didn't want to press, but apparently I have to. Don't think that I don't pay attention to your frequent, and I want to emphasize it: unsaid — "I'm sorry, Charles. I was busy and I can't tell you what exactly I've been doing". I wish you could, because, you know, Erik, I might be blind, but I'm not completely clueless."

Erik, taken aback by tirade, ventures:

"Em, Charles, don't get me wrong, but are you —"

"Oh, let me help you find a proper adjective. Angry? Yes, quite a bit. I suddenly find myself without one of vital senses, in our old summer house, where, I swear, every piece of furniture wants to maim me. And with a dear friend of mine, who is growing more and more distant every day. Try to stay calm and composed in my place," he sighs, loudly, and, by the way he is gasping for breath Erik can tell that his little speech took quite a toll.

"Chair?"

"You're reading my mind. That was the most exhausting one-sided conversation I've had lately," Charles sags into his rocker, seemingly not at all bothered by Erik's aid, but enjoying it.

When Beast jumps on his lap Charles flinches.

"Stop sneaking up, you blue leech," Erik grabs it and aims to toss it off the porch.

"Erik! I almost don't have any spare magic left. I'm sure, Beast just likes my company," says Charles drily. "Besides, unlike someone, Beast is always around."

"I'm very sorry."

"You'd better be. Now, don't keep me in suspense anymore."

"Fine, fine. You don't recall how we killed him?" starts Erik carefully.

"No. How could I?" Charles retorts quietly.

"That was very impressive. And terrifying. For a split moment I thought you had lost control," Erik remembers very well that feeling when Charles grew limp by his side and darkness broke free. He also believes that that blast had a will of its own, but he doesn't want Charles to think that he is subjected to weird leaps of imagination.

"Afterwards, when disturbances in the flow died down, I felt a pull. Obviously, I decided that there was no harm in investigating the ruins of his castle. And, as I realized, later, that was not the decision I would have made. Perhaps."

"Ah, I see…"

"It was trashed inside. Everything upside down, but I discovered what I came for surprisingly easily. There was a book, wood bond, with a gemstone embedded in its cover."

"You touched it?" Charles sounds breathless.

"It's embarrassing how easily I can be swayed, but yes," confesses Erik. "It was absolutely blank inside at first. Words started to appear gradually, and before I realized it, I had spent almost an hour reading. Not reading exactly. I'm still not sure what language this is. After that, I wanted to throw it away. I couldn't, in the end. I picked it and some other scrolls scattered nearby and left. At the time I thought, you might find them interesting when you recover."

"Is this book here now?"

"Yes, in an attic trunk."

"Heavens, Erik! I should have known," utters Charles self-deprecatingly.

"You are not thinking about destroying it or something like that?" suspicion is rising, together with odd cold fear and Erik watches very attentively how Charles settles for a soft, calm smile.

"No, of course not. This is an amazing source of knowledge! I wouldn't dream of setting it on fire on the sacred altar at midnight and scattering the ashes to the four winds after a cleansing prayer."

"That was awfully specific."

"Was it? I'm sorry. But, you know me, I like to talk about my craft so much."

"If you say so," Erik is not convinced.

"Come on, Erik. You owe me a walk in the woods. There is still some time left before sunset and I believe Alex has mentioned leftover wine before leaving. Please, be so kind and have a look in our root cellar behind the house. Also, could you grab us a blanket?"

Charles has this peculiar earnest expression, which works its magic better than any of his spells.

"Alright, I'll be back in an instant."

When he comes back, Charles is relaxing in the chair, murmuring some nonsense to Beast, who, again, is perched on his shoulder.

That evening they had lovely time in the woods, indeed.

Charles never uttered a word about the book again.

Yet, after he fell asleep, Erik waited for some time, then got up, wrapped the book in Charles' old cloak and hid it in the woods.

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Days went by slowly, and Erik was truly enjoying the tranquil flow of time. He only came to realize how much time passed with Raven's arrival. In a fancy navy dress. And riding a snow-white stallion, no less.

While tying the reins to the young oak tree near the porch she asks:

"Where is Charles?"

Erik hushes her.

"Asleep."

"At noon? How is he feeling?"

"He says better. His magic is coming back. In the morning he attempted a healing ritual on his own."

"Did it —"

"No, not yet."

Her face falls.

"Right. Let me grab something to eat and I'll be off — it's a ride-by visit this time."

Next dawn, Erik wakes up with a splitting headache, and blearily blinks at Charles, hovering over him and spreading a faint smell of burned wood.

"So? How is your head?"

"What kind of joke is this?" Erik rasps with lips so dry and throat so parched, he feels like he'd been badly sunburned and hadn't had a drop of water in days.

"I wouldn't call possession a joke," says Charles perceptively. "You sound fine to me, so, forgive me, but I need to lie down again and soon. I had quite an exciting night, and, well, probably exciting is not the word which is descriptive enough."

He attempts to straighten up, but sways and falls face down across bed.

"Charles, what have you done?"

Erik doesn't recognize his own voice — he is seething, both outraged and petrified and there is also a dangerous desire to strangle Charles, lying prone and muttering something into his blanket.

"I was saying — it was blood magic, wasn't it? Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to open it," Charles props himself on the elbow, digging it right into Erik's side, of course. "Ouch, wrong spot, sorry. How did he trace his bloodline to you I have no idea. I checked that time — his house was rumored to be slaughtered during an infamous dragon uprising."

To stop Charles' clumsy groping Erik sits up and pushes Charles up as well, grabbing his shoulders.

"I wanted to cure you," he hisses. "Do you realize what I would be able to do with all that knowledge in hand? Do you?"

He shakes Charles for good measure, despite a tiny voice inside his head telling Erik that he is hurting him.

"Erik, get hold of yourself," he hears through persistent noise in his ears.

Charles really knows how to get under my skin — he thinks suddenly. It's high time to end this.

Then, something small and furry jumps up and digs its fangs into his forearm, forcing him to let go of Charles. Erik slams his arm against headboard to smash the thing, but Beast is faster and he hears a crack as the force of collision breaks his bone. Pain flairs up promptly. Also, white light floods the room and everything goes dark.

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He wakes up with a headache of a different kind — this one is dull and resides somewhere in the back of his head. Erik groans and, as events of previous weeks and especially previous morning drift back, he briefly wishes for it to be a nightmare.

"You awake?"

Erik opens his eyes and turns his heavy head to find Charles' astral projection in the doorway.

"Charles, are you alright?" is the first thing he asks throwing on his clothes.

"Thank you for asking. I'm fine, aside from the obvious. I decided that waiting in your room is not wise, that's why the projection," says Charles coyly. "And I can still see you like this. You can't believe how I missed the sight."

He vanishes then, and Erik rushes straight to the porch.

Charles is there, of course, sitting on the stairs.

Erik takes him in — a new road cloak, a satchel slung over his shoulder, and he blurts before he catches himself:

"Are you leaving?"

"I rather thought we are leaving. I have an idea where to find a decent healer. Also, you may continue studying and become one yourself. Wouldn't it be great! But, no cheating with ancient forbidden magic, alright?"

"Yes, absolutely."

Charles holds out a hand for him.

Erik clasps it.

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The end