The tall blond seventeen-year-old lay sprawled over a couch, his nose buried in a thick leather-bound book. A lady with hair an identical colour to his poked her head around the door inquisitively.
"Firenze, dear? Mr Drennon is here for your lesson," she said, fondly smiling at her son. He grunted something in reply and she sighed, disappearing. Firenze reluctantly dropped the book on a low coffee table and stood to greet his teacher. A thin, pale man with greying black hair entered. He nodded to Firenze, taking a seat opposite.

"Firenze, my boy! Sit down, sit down," the man said gaily, relaxing back in the chair. Firenze sat formally on the edge of the couch, subconsciously smoothing back a stray hair.
"Now," he said, leaning forward, "what have you been reading?" Firenze handed over the book he had been reading. His teacher inspected the cover.
"The Art of Necromantic Magic," he read aloud. "An interesting read for one so young. Surely you are not attempting these spells?"
"I tried a basic spell," Firenze admitted. "One to conjure a spirit familiar from a simple animal. I tried raising a mouse."
The teacher frowned disapprovingly. "You know I do not approve of you attempting spells without my guidance. Especially the ones from this particular... topic." Firenze inclined his head in apology, and the teacher turned back to the book.

"I am interested to know of your progress with the spell," mused Mr Drennon. "It is difficult for one to succeed at such a complex, delicate spell as from the necromantic arts. They are, perhaps, even more volatile than the spells associated with death or banishment. The destruction of a being is an easy thing, but to bring it back from the realm of Herobrine would be a dangerous thing indeed." He glanced up at Firenze.

"At first, I did not succeed," replied Firenze, his cheeks colouring slightly in annoyance at admitting this fact, "but after two tries I successfully created the initial matter of which the spirit takes its form. After I was able to create that, the actual calling of the spirit was exceedingly easy."
"And I take it you experienced no feelings of repulsion nor guilt during these experiments?"
"Of course not, sir. It is simply magic – the subject of the experiment does not affect me."

The teacher smiled. "Excellent. A conscience has no place among magicians such as ourselves."
"Sir... would it be possible for you to demonstrate some of the more complex magic in the book? For example, actually binding the spirit back into the body and reanimating it for a short amount of time?" Firenze asked tentatively. The teacher smiled.
"Why, of course! I would be happy to demonstrate. Are you especially interested in this topic? We can take time away from our current lessons to focus on this, if you like."
"Would you, sir? I find the subject... fascinating," Firenze said, eyes trained hopefully on his teacher.
"It can be arranged," he replied, smiling a little. Firenze struggled to stop himself grinning like a loon.
"Now, Firenze, would you demonstrate the spell I showed you last week?"

After his lesson, Firenze strolled down to the docks. As expected, Mike was waiting for him at the end. He grinned and greeted him happily.
"What're you so pleased about?" Mike asked him, a small smile on his face.
"I just had my lesson with Drennon..."
"And?"

"He says we can change the topic of the lessons."
"No way. Drennon never changes lessons. It's the law."
"Yes way, as a matter of fact. He saw my book and wanted to know how far into it I was, then said we could change topics!"
Mike smiled, but looked distracted. He ran a hand through his messy dark hair thoughtfully.

"What's wrong?" asked Firenze. Mike shook his head a little.
"I just... I don't think you should be studying that," he admitted. "I didn't want to say anything, since you enjoy it so much, but it's just... morbid. It's like you're obsessed."
Firenze's smile faded. "It's just magic. I don't see what the problem is, honestly."
"It's tampering with death. Bringing something back is unnatural. When something dies, it's dead and gone. It shouldn't return." Mike's eyes were hard – he hated crossing his friend, but it had to be done.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, but this is my path and I'm going to stick to it," Firenze replied slightly stiffly.
"Drennon has changed you," Mike said almost reflectively. "You would never have done this a year ago. You should get rid of him and get a new teacher. One who isn't obsessed with death."

Firenze flushed angrily. "He is not obsessed with death! And anyway, Mr Drennon is the best wizard in this district, and the best teacher in this town."
"You know his history. He's a dark wizard. You should never have chosen him."
"Yes, he harbours an interest in the darker side of magic, but that doesn't make him a dark wizard!" Firenze argued hotly.
"He's turning you into one. Just consider what you're doing. You're dabbling in dark magic. It's dangerous." Mike sighed glumly.

"Just remember what you're doing, and why you're doing it," he said finally. "Anyway I've got to go. Tryouts for the Delta squad are on today and I need to get an early slot. See you later."
"Bye," Firenze said quietly. They both turned and walked away, both in deep thought.

:O Firenze! What are you doing?
I'll try to get part 2 of this chapter out soon.