Sojourner in an ancient land by Lisande

Part 2
BEHIND THE CLOAK

When the house was quiet, and there was no one else but herself and the other three instructors, Robeira collapsed on the ground. Arec ran to her, as if he had been waiting for her to do so all day, although he did not touch her.

"Robie," he began, using the nickname no one used anymore.

"No," she cut him off, "I'm fine." She looked up at him, eyes innocently wide. Everything's fine. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes burning with questions, but he said nothing. There was a pause, and after awhile he went back to whetting his dagger.

As Robeira stared at the ceiling from her new vantage point, images of all the mages she had ever advanced floated into her mind. She imagined what they were doing, training, training. Trying to level. Trying to earn money. Unbidden, the face of that first priestess today floated into consciousness.

How much like her I was. Innocent, sincere, so full of promise. As if she knew the world could have opened up its secrets and satisfied her beyond all desire, if she had the key; if she worked hard enough, if she was good enough.

And another lamb to the slaughter, she thought, unbearably depressed. She tried to fling the image of the young priestess away in desperation, tried not to remember. All they want is power, and they don't even know what it's for. And I am giving it to them, every day. They don't even know why… The others didn't understand. Not even Arec. Maybe they still believed in themselves.

Once, Robeira had been a new initiate herself. She had been an ice mage firstly, and then mastered both other classes too, always loving cold Ossyria. How magical life had seemed, how full of splendour and magnificence.

Once, she had been so sure that the world was thrilling, marvellous, full; so full she had thought she would burst with revelation. Every new experience seemed filled with challenges, every new skill a springboard to ever more ethereal heights. She remembered how once she had thought there was no evil, only misunderstood good. Or that everything was beautiful. Or that power was only one of many paths to ecstasy and joy.

And her hopes had never been dashed, either, or her heart ever broken: only worn away, bit by bit. Even with Arec, the passion had faded, until that became meaningless too. All the childlike dreams were drained, little by little, until she had realised finally that the world was colourless, and always had been.

Robeira emerged from her reverie immeasurably more depressed than before. Picking herself up from the floor, she discovered the others had all gone to sleep in their beds, with the exception of Arec, who was snoring in front of the fire, curled up around his dagger as usual.

She had always thought it was cute, although they never talked of cuteness anymore. The dagger, the flash of its shiny blade. How shiny it was. She had watched him wield it many times before, and she had decided long ago it was the sharpest thing she had ever seen. Why, it was even freshly whetted…

I won't disturb him.

With all the subtlety that befitted a seasoned archmage, Robeira eased the dagger away from him with a type of telekinesis. A long time ago, she had known the geography of his arms off by heart. When it was free, it glided smoothly through the air into her waiting hand.

Not…here. I know where.

Robeira wrapped her cloak more tightly around her, and opened the front door. The snowstorm had not started yet, and perhaps she could get to the Holy Stone before it did. She glanced back at the sleeping Arec.

"Goodbye," she whispered, quietly enough that he would not wake up. "I really did love you." With a shaky breath, she stepped into the snow, and closed behind her, for the last time, the door of the mansion of the third advance.

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