Ferris wasn't about to stake her future on the Guildmaster's intuitions or theories. If she couldn't get a proper explanation from him, then she would get one from Madame Valda. Usually, her master could be found in the Guild's study, meditating over old texts. However, it was so late into the evening that the young woman marched straight to the only other place she could've been at that hour.
The building's second floor was much quieter than the first. Almost half of it was devoted to storage and another section was quartered off for the heads' private rooms. Bunking in one of the communal rooms downstairs, Ferris had very little reason to ever come up here. Still, she knew the halls well. She walked down a long passage lit only by a single window at the far end, stopping about midways, and knocked.
Valda hadn't yet prepared for bed. Dark robes with a burgundy trim were fastened to her frame with a loose belt. Her grey hair—which Ferris always thought to be abnormally long—was twisted in its usual style, tied back with a metal pin. Many thin wrinkles detailed the contours of her narrow face, and though her eyes bore the weight of many years, they still burned with the same crimson resolve that Ferris' did.
She hadn't liked the elderly woman one bit when they first met. For all of Castellar's lies, she thought he'd been right to called her an old hag. Like Tobius, the perfect calm she maintained when facing the rebellious adolescents was jarring. Her lessons were though, sometimes painful, and she had a gaze that claimed to know everything. It all infuriated Ferris.
Nevertheless, the harsh teachings pushed her to master her abilities at a rapid rate. She'd caught up with her peers in a short time, making it so that no one could contest her position: Neither the Guild's handful of other crimson mages, envious of her status as Valda's one and only apprentice, or those sent from other towns to lure her to their side.
Between short words and curt insults, both student and teacher had an odd sense of respect for each other. No one knew the world in the way they did. Even now, Madame Valda seemed to have anticipated her arrival, for she greeted her by saying, "I see Tobius has given you the good news."
Ferris' expression only soured further at the almost jovial tone, "And I see you didn't think to warn me."
"It wouldn't matter if someone didn't neglect their meditation. Something this predictable should've been easy for you to see coming."
For once, she didn't take the bait. "Making Castellar the next guildmaster is a big mistake. He'll never switch loyalties. He doesn't care about the Boroughs or us!"
Madame Valda briefly shot a glance two doors down. The young woman stopped herself from raising her voice any louder. She'd nearly forgotten, but it hadn't been all that long since Castellar had changed rooms as the acting Head of the Blue Mages. Immediately after though, she felt embarrassed for going quiet. It was the truth. Why did it matter if he heard her or not?
Valda held out her hand. Ferris glanced at it for a moment before looking back up at her mentor's face with disgust. The former insisted, "Try taking a look."
She rolled her eyes, but inevitably gave in, taking Valda's hand into her own. Contact wasn't necessary; it just aided their focus. By concentrating on a person, a seer could examine the potential futures that stood before that individual. Ferris closed her eyes, embracing an eternal void she'd already visited a thousand times over.
In her mind, she searched that wide stretch of darkness for a familiar red thread. These threads had bothered her practically ever since the first day her magic awakened. Sometimes, they served as random warnings in moments of danger, harmlessly cutting through her from the same directions an enemy's attack would then come from. One of her first lessons was observing them and learning their full purpose: They were strings of fate, connecting her with other people across time and space.
A fledgling crimson mage would only really ever see them on instinct, just as she did, as a means of self-defense. A practiced seer, however, could follow these threads to check whatever futures they led to. The further you peered across time, the more confusing and tangled they became as potential realities overlapped or diverged toward different endings. Even the course of a single day could split into a hundred separate paths—nevermind peering several months ahead.
The bundle of strings Ferris managed to snag was an absolute mess, and the fragmented visions tied to them even more-so:
Nearly all of them pointed to a future in which she became the Guild's leading seer, but overall, the similarities stopped there. In some futures, Castellar wasn't anywhere to be seen; in others, she saw him far more often than she liked. The Guild's mages rejected him, supported him, or didn't particularly care either way. Monty would try to chase Castellar out or would smack him hard on the back and let him off with a warning.
She and Castellar fought and yelled. They worked in-synch. Somone let the fighting boil to its climax. Someone got between them. They went for each other's throats. They went separate ways. They stood calm, preparing to welcome another generation of students. They turned to each other, smiling—
She'd seen enough, not welcoming any of the things she'd witnessed.
Madam Valda's voice broke her the rest of the way out of her trance, "Is it that you can't see it or that you don't want to see it?"
Ferris frowned bitterly at the implication, "Just because there's a small chance of everything turning out fine, doesn't mean it will." She would mind the most realistic course of events.
Since there was clearly no means of changing her master's mind, she turned to leave. However, Valda caught her. "Ferris, it may be our job to look to the future, but before that, you must understand the past, see it with clear eyes, and know when to let it go," she said, "I don't blame you for being angry with the boy, but for the good of this guild—and for yourself—I'm asking you to let go of that anger."
It wasn't so easily done…
There was one other thing in the futures she saw that brought the reality of what was coming into sharp focus. A part of her knew it already, even without the visions or the Guildmaster's heads up. Madame Valda was nowhere to be seen beyond that a year in any future.
"You're dying." Spoken in a low, even tone, it wasn't a question.
In any case, her master neither confirmed nor denied it. She just grinned, "You still have so much to learn… Honestly, it may be a mistake for Tobius and I to give you my position rather than Castellar his. All the more reason for you to work all the harder. You better meet me on time in the morning!"
"At the tourney grounds, I know," Ferris sighed. She guessed it was to be expected that Valda would steer the conversation away from herself. While the young woman had vented plenty over her own deaths, it wasn't something the other ever shared—past or future.
Valda chuckled, "Goodnight, my willful student."
"Goodnight, you old bat."
Ferris headed back down the stairs just as unhappy as when she'd gone up, only now dreading the morning to come as well. The Guild had its own training area at the back of the building, but it wasn't always large enough for mages to try their magic against each other at full strength. A trip to the tournament grounds meant her next lesson would be severe. If she was really nearing the end of her apprenticeship though, she really would need to do her best.