It seemed to me a strange thing, mystifying, that a boy like me could go from technically being an orphan to still being an orphan but an apprentice to a High Mage.

Had I been asked to imagine how I might become apprentice to High Mage Candor just a week ago I likely would've likely envisioned a far different path than the one I was currently on. I probably would've gone with my father to the castle instead of a guard perhaps or been invited to one of his dress ceremonies and met Harrow or Candor there. I left my thoughts as Candor and I bowed and turned for the door.

High Mage Candor and I had just been dismissed by King Armin when Harrow had entered the throne room. He had been summoned by King Armin for something or another but Candor and I stopped and greeted him before continuing for the door. The doors were opened and then closed behind us as Harrow reached where King Armin was beckoning to him.

But something made me halt and turn back to the door before we began walking down the corridor. It was the tone of King Armin's voice to Harrow that made me pause and listen. It was soft, and comforting in my ears though I could only make out a sentence from outside the room.

"I'm proud of you, Harrow." Those were the only words I could hear from their conversation but it wasn't the words that they spoke that made me stop and listen through the throne room doors after they were closed after Candor and I.

It was King Armin's timbre as he spoke to Harrow. It made me feel wistful, wishing that my own father would've talked to me like that. Just once. Hearing King Armin speak this way, even if it was directed to another was almost hypnotic to my ears. Just to stop and listen to the sound of comfort and kindness.

I turned from the door a few moments later to remember High Mage Candor still standing there. He had stood there waiting the whole time, just watching me, I realized. He gave me a small nod with a gentle smile and kind look in his eyes before gesturing to the left towards his study and so we went.

"His majesty is certainly gentle in his words for a king wouldn't you say, apprentice?" I was walking a pace behind him to show respect and shook my head yes.

"He is truly a good-hearted king, sir." I hesitated before I continued speaking, "I apologize sir for holding you up at the door. I hadn't meant to cause you delay, High Mage." He chuckled at this.

"You're rather well-spoken for one so young, it's rare to find one so eloquent especially at your age you know."

I gave a slight nod behind him, "Thank you, sir." Neither of us talked for the next few paces until he breathed in and asked a question.

"Why did you stop to listen, Viren?" I missed a step as I processed his question.

"Sir?" I asked, my eyebrows raised in question. He gestured for me to walk beside him with his hand and elaborate on his question.

"Why did you stop to listen to King Armin back at the door is perhaps a better way to put it." He looked at me next to him, waiting for a response. I grasped for words as I thought about his question. Two patrols of guards passed us by the time I had composed a proper reply.

"I suppose it's because it's what I thought a father should sound like, sir. Though I'm not quite sure to be honest." I was sure, in fact, I just hadn't wanted to be so open with the High Mage that he might pry further. I looked forward as we continued walking down the hall and he went on.

"I see, just curious to know. I won't pry." He too kept faced forward, only occasionally turning to look at me before turning back. A few more paces passed before he struck up conversation again.

"Viren, what would you like to be called? Just Viren, or something else?" Once again he awaited my response. I had never thought of any other name that I might be called by so I responded as such.

"I would prefer to be called Viren, sir."

"Very well, Viren." He put emphasis on my name that time wiggling his eyebrows, attempting to be playful I would guess.

How had this man come out of the cackling madman whom had brought me back from death's doorsill? This man was kind and tender, his eyes soft when he spoke to me now. Where was the mage who had used a soul, which I still was unaware of its origins, to bring me back and had recollected it in maniacal glee gone? His constant was inconsistency.

"Now," His voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"I've noticed that you have almost only called me sir since I have met you and I must admit that I prefer you call me by something else that makes me feel less old." I tilted my head, expecting him to ask me to call him by his full title.

"I would like it if you just called me Candor." I lifted my head back up, surprised, but respondent.

"Yes, Candor." It sounded foreign on my tongue, the name was almost unwilling to leave my mouth as I said it. With that he thanked me silently with a nod and we continued the rest of the way to his study in silence.

The rest of my first day as the apprentice to Candor was surprisingly simple to my surprise. I had expected perhaps something more… magical, I suppose than what he had given me. His first instruction to me upon returning to his study was to read a tome he had given me.

"Consider it a simple introduction to magic." He had said.

And so I read. It began rather historically with the early legends about and uses of the Arcanums by the elves and dragons and so on. The tome made a point to contrast Xadians' natural ability for magic with humanity's lack of it save for perhaps through the use of a primal stone.

The tome continued this pattern of the early history of magic for a few more chapters until I reached a section title that had a person's name rather than an event or time period as the title.

It was the name of a of a Moondshadow Elf Mage, carrying a staff emitting a faint light. She was followed by a Sunfire Elf, wielding a rod with a ringed, small, burning sun at its center who was accompanied by a third elf of a species I did not recognize at first. She was a Startouch Elf but unlike the others, she held no staff or weapon of any sort yet she seemed to embody something… beyond what most saw. Perhaps the stars. Perhaps beyond. I turned the page on the new elf and found myself looking into the eyes of the first human mage in the book.

I did not recognize his face but I remembered his name. His name, that had been told to me in the classroom, in the streets, and echoed in my mind. The first mage of humanity, our first reply to the millennia of magical dominance held by Xadians.

His name? His name was Ziard and he had been the very first true mage of humanity through the use of dark magic. I held him on an even higher pedestal than before just from the first few sentences about him. He was born into a cruel world, his city on the verge of collapse from famine. His people were left to starve and with no one to turn to for help, Ziard took it upon himself to be the salvation his city needed. Along with a staff gifted to him by "the great ones" Ziard used the essence of magical creatures to save his city from starvation.

I read on. My eyes roving the pages even faster as I hurried to learn the rest of the tale. It seemed that the dragon king at the time, Sol Regem, had seen dark magic and was disgusted by it. In a fury that only the king of dragon's could muster, Sol Regem demanded that Ziard give up dark magic or prepare to have his city annihilated. Ziard, understandably did not wish to give up what had saved his people so he attempted to fight the dragon king.

Needless to say, the fight did not last very long as Ziard was incinerated and his city burned to the ground in an attempt by Sol Regem to cease the practice and destroy the knowledge of dark magic.

Yet it grew and spread across the continent but as Xadians became aware of it and were as disgusted with it as Sol Regem was they too condemned humanity. The end result was the more modern situation. The continent was split in half, the Pentarchy to the west and Xadia to the east.

The new king of the dragons whom humanity knew as 'Thunder' guarded the Breach that separated humanity and magical peoples though battles and wars began as humans were forced to move to the west.

After all, most of humanity already lived to the west of the Breach, but those who did not were forced to flee their home of many generations or prepare to face the might of the new dragon king and elven armies. All but a few chose to go peacefully while those who stayed were simply forced to leave forever.

Border conflicts were difficult to come by between Xadia and humanity as they were and still are separated by the river of lava that flows through the continent, splitting it in half. The river of lava was the last royal act of Sol Regem.

It's said that he stirred the full power of the sun in his eyes and chest and struck the volcano at the north tip of the continent. From there, the lava flowed wherever it could in old river beds or valleys though a few settlements on both sides were forced to flee, most of them human.

For humanity's use of magic to protect and provide for ourselves, we were rewarded with lava and loss. It is said that Sol Regem, now blind from his battle with Ziard, abdicated and went to guard the southern end of the border near the wastelands. It is believed that he still guards that path to this very day.

It was after I completed the story that I encountered within myself the question of the consequences of dark magic. Because of it, as a negative, I suppose, humanity was restricted to the western side of the border but then again because of dark magic, hundreds of thousands had been saved. As for the process itself, I personally saw no problem in using certain magical beings for saving or bettering human lives especially things such as Sunray Monarchs or Banthers.

If anything, I believed and still believe that those particular creatures were either needless or dangerous in their natural functions. In my mind, the use of magical creatures essences were either justifiable or didn't need to be justified, especially if it was for the good of humanity.

Most of the rest of the tome was devoted to the basics ideas of dark magic and various notable mages and their roles in history both human and elven. It was fascinating to continue through hundreds of years of names though the name of the one other Startouch Elf in the tome was blurred as was the rest of his page.

The most recent mage noted in the tome was a human female from Del Bar from only one hundred years ago when she also became the last Del Bar mage after a particularly disastrous fiasco involving the crown princess and lightning. The tome kept vague on the details on that particular debacle for political reasons perhaps. I noted this before moving on.

After turning yet another page, a flicker of light went across the text I had been reading and I looked up to see that the sun had already gone down.

To my surprise, I had been reading by firelight for a few hours and hadn't notice the transition. High Mage Candor was leaning over a table reading another tome of unknown contents to me and had been like that since I had started reading.

Feeling a gaze on his back, Candor turned and addressed me.

"Is there something can do for you, apprentice?" He said it kindly, relaxed as it were. He sounded like a different person than the maniacal man that had been at my bedside just yesterday. I shook my head at his question and replied.

"No, sir. I was wanting to ask whether you required me to finish this tome by the end of the night or if you wanted me to wait until tomorrow." He looked at me for a moment, thinking I suppose. Then he chuckled, and when he did, he sounded like a grandfather rather than an insane mage.

"Viren," he said, walking up to me and putting a hand on my shoulder, "I know what you want to do already, I can see it in your eyes." In his eyes, a tinge of madness began to creep back in.

"In your eyes," he continued, "You want to keep reading, keep learning, keep moving." Despite the slight rise of insanity's touch, his eyes were filled with empathy for what I felt then.

"You have a need to finish this tome and the next." He paused for a moment, he took a deep breath I noticed, letting the madness slip from his gaze.

"It's what will bring you to towering heights in this castle and world." He held up his tome and held it in front of me.

"After all, knowledge is what allows us to move forward in this life is it not?"

I nodded, "It is, sir." Then I hesitated.

"May I continue on then, sir?"

He nodded, "You may, Viren. Now if you excuse me, I must retire for the night." He turned and went for a cushion by the window and gestured at a loft by the door.

"You may sleep there if you wish, Viren. You have done well today and I am glad to have you as my apprentice." He nodded his head, acknowledging me.

"I will see you tomorrow, Viren." With that, he laid down by the window and began counting the stars until he drifted off.

I finished my the tome just an hour later just as the hearth began to die down. In the time between then and sleep I began to think. How had Candor talked to me? It felt as how King Armin had talked to Harrow, strong, yet kind. Gruff, yet caring.

When Candor had talked to me before he had gone to bed, it had felt like what I had imagined being talked to by a true father would be like.

Though I admit that Candor was perhaps fifteen years too late to have been my real father. Still the notion that I still had a father figure… well… I'd say it comforted me in the times when I felt cold and alone. The many times that I felt that way in those early years.

Many have said that they cannot choose their family, that they can only accept them as they are. They say the only ones you can choose are your friends, that you can find them among the throngs. But then on that day, as I drifted off into sleep?

I felt as if I had chosen my father.