Important Note: For those who care whether this will continue as a friendship story or turn into a romance, I would like to say that this book is going to remain in the friendzone, but I do have plans to further Sophia and Stephen's relationship (yes, Stephen will be her love interest rather than another character). No, I am not trying to satisfy everyone, rather, I envision their romantic relationship developing slowly and there is already too much going on with the development of their friendship and other plots only subtly in play as of yet that will occupy this book. For those who prefer friendship over romance, you should continue enjoying this book. For those who are looking forward to romance, continue reading and look out for the sequel afterward. Thank you for your support!

P.S. If you're curious, the poll results combined from the poll on FanFiction, the comments on FanFiction, and the comments on Wattpad are as follows: 54% for Yes, a Romance with Stephen; 28% for No Romance; and 18% for Yes, a Romance with Another Character. Thank you to everyone who participated.

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It Began with a Goodbye

by Riley Berg

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Chapter Fourteen

We had survived a more than a week of the New Year without any awkwardness or arguments. Stephen was impatient with himself during my lessons, but I noticed that he was careful not to direct his attitude toward me. I even spent a day at Kamar-Taj with Wong and Stephen voluntarily accompanied me. It meant I could not speak to Wong of you-know-what, but it was quite enjoyable for the three of us to train together.

It is for those reasons that I look on Stephen's approach with some apprehension. After more than a week of bliss, something is bound to go wrong, yes?

"Master Sophy," he greets politely, and my apprehension heightens. He has taken to calling me without title most of the time, as I now do to him and Wong.

I set the book I am searching aside and gesture for him to sit. He obliges but says nothing of what is on his mind. Instead, he looks at me as if considering what to say, or perhaps how to say it.

Finally breaking the silence, he softly asks, "When you returned to Kamar-Taj to relearn the Arts…" He pauses as if still unsure how to form his words. "You said that not only did you refresh your memory, but you learned some… new things as well."

It is not quite a question in intonation, but I understand it to be one nevertheless, and so I nod my head.

"So, when you were… young, and first learned the Arts, you didn't learn everything there was to learn."

I scoff at the absurdity, forgetting my apprehension at his still-unknown purpose. "Of course not! I told you, even the Ancient One was still a student of the Arts. There is always more to learn, greater control to be gained, new techniques to try."

"Ah."

I sigh. Stephen did not expect a different answer, I do not think, but perhaps one that had more to do with whatever it is he wants to talk about. I decide to continue, in hopes of stumbling upon his intention sooner rather than later.

"Additionally," I see him perk at the word, "when I was young, I—well, I suppose I need to explain first. My father's people, as you already know, are natural sorcerers. I did not grow up among them—my father's people, that is—so I do not know for sure, but according to my understanding, everyone receives a basic education in the Arts, in order to control their power. To prevent accidents, harm to self or others, and such. But not everyone chooses to educate themselves beyond that. Although one can continue their education, some choose to exercise their powers minimally, and others to develop and use them without formal instruction.

"I was given a basic education in the Arts, of course, but at the time I had no interest in further formal instruction. I used my sorcery…. instinctively, I suppose you could say. With the help of a book, I taught myself how to portal; that was a convenient skill. And I used the so-called creating-something-from-nothing for similar convenience. Again, a skill self-taught, though that took me much longer and a greater number of books. I had learned meditation as part of my basic education, but I had no interest in learning to fight or defend, as is the main purpose of sorcery on this world. So when I returned to Kamar-Taj, I was a relative novice in those things. While I relearned my other abilities, Mother began teaching me to fight and defend myself." I sigh. "In those things, I only a little more skilled than you, if at all."

When I look back at Stephen from staring at the middle-distance, I find his eyes… sparkling. Like a child who has discovered something he thinks extraordinary.

"I can help you," he, well, blurts.

I stare at him.

"What?"

"I can help you," he repeats, calmer this time. "With those things you didn't learn in your youth. Those things your mother was teaching you. By your own description, you still have some learning to do. I could – " He pauses as if suddenly realizing something. "Do you want to learn more?"

I smile at Stephen. I would not subject myself to training with Wong if I did not want to improve.

"Yes," I reply simply.

"You said… Masters help one another. The strength of one may be the weakness of the other, and they work together to improve." I nod. "Perhaps… we can do that. You are already helping me, teaching me. Perhaps, if you are willing, I can… return the favor."

I do not know how to react. Something makes me want to throw my arms around him at the offer, but I think that might just be my relief at finally having his intentions clarified and my apprehensions put to rest.

"Thank you, Master Stephen," I finally manage, and notice his smile, which is slight, to begin with, falter a little, as if he thinks I am politely declining. I smirk—well, my inner-self smirks—glad to pay him back a little of the anxiety he caused me earlier. "I gladly accept your offer."

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"Ugh!"

"Headache?"

I startle at the question, not expecting Stephen to be in the room, and deposit the bag of groceries on the kitchen table with a satisfyingly loud thud.

"What?" I question, my mind still somewhat distracted by my plight as I watch Stephen put the kettle on.

"Do you have a headache? The Ancient One said sometimes… beginners," he hesitates with the words as if unsure it should apply to me, or whether or not I will allow him to apply it to me, "get headaches their first few times. I didn't," he quickly adds, as if my opinion of him might fall if he did, "but I guess some do."

First few times what? Oh! He's talking about astral projection. "No, no," I assure. "I'm fine in that regard. It's just… that blasted holiday."

He looks up me in confusion.

"You know… the one in February?"

After a moment of consideration, his expression turns to amusement. "Valentine's Day?"

"Yes!" I reply, annoyed—not at him, though, of course. "The candies and decorations and cards are all out on display at the store."

"And what is so dreadful about Valentine's Day?" he asks.

I do not answer immediately but observe him carefully instead. I understand that he is not who he used to be. Stephen is not very forthcoming about his past—one of my favors he has yet to see fit reciprocating—but I cannot imagine him celebrating Valentine's Day as either a Master of the Mystic Arts or a world-class neurosurgeon with a Ph.D. besides.

"Most girls – women," he corrects, "in my understanding, look forward to the day immensely."

I roll my eyes. "Superficial," I reply simply.

"What?"

"Superficial," I repeat. "Ingenuine. Most of it, at least."

"What, exactly, is superficial?"

"Their affections. Too much focus on the material, not enough of the emotional. A waste of time."

Something in my tone of voice must have been more telling than my words, because Stephen asks a very unexpected question, though, by his own flippant tone of voice, his realizations have yet to reach his consciousness.

"What, you've never been in love?"

I stare at him. "No," I reply quietly.

"What?" he asks incredulously.

"No. I have never been in love." I turn away to start putting away the groceries. They have sat on the table long enough.

"You've – you've never – but I thought you said you're older than me! Quite a bit older, you implied. How can you have lived that long and not – ?"

I shrug, though I do know the answer to his unfinished question. "What, have you ever been in love?" I shoot back instead.

"No," he replies in a moment, "not in the way I think you're meaning."

I sigh. "That has nothing to do with it anyway. There's nothing wrong with love. And no, every relationship is… superficial. Just… too many of them are. And the way Valentine's Day is celebrated is a cyclical annoyance: a symptom of the ailment that also propagates the continuation of said ailment." I shake my head.

"You've really never been in love?"

I groan. "That's not the point!" Why do humans always get stuck on that point? And non-humans, too! Ástriðr was the worst of them all as far as my non-existent love life was concerned.

When I look at Stephen, I begin worrying that he might take after Ástriðr in that regard. The concern in his eyes is genuine. I wonder why. Certainly, from the character he has demonstrated, he would not think it some great tragedy to have never loved.

"Should you have been in love by now?" he asks with a softness that takes me by surprise.

Curse him and his mysterious ability to be as blank as an unused sheet of paper! What is he thinking?

"What?"

"Considering how old you are, however old that is, and for your… race. Should you have been in love by now?"

I shrug. "I do not know the answer to that question," I reply honestly, "though I suppose…"

Even if I were fully the blood of my father's people, I would look older by now. I do not know the particulars of my race, but according to Ástriðr even the longer living races, that are often blessed to have a disproportionate adolescence and old-age in comparison to humans, would have aged beyond the appearance of a twenty-year-old human in the millennia of my lifetime. It is yet another mystery to me that even I do not understand.

If one goes by age rather than appearance then, yes, I should have fallen in love at least once in my life. "But I am not capable of it."

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Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading!

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