Catalyst(115)

“An avatar is a projection of sorts, involving a very powerful ritual,” Stradus said. “If you succeed, you can project yourself elsewhere. It's very hard to pull off one that enables you to interact with your environment to such an extent, be hard to detect, and still not deal with the pain or bodily functions that one normally has to go through. I couldn’t pick up on it until you defeated him.”

That would explain why Premier’s skin didn’t look altogether human and seemed to sag off him, and why he never ate or drank.

“You've got to stop Premier, Hellsfire. If he was able to pull this off, then there's no telling what he's capable of. He’s not going to let this rest. I know.”

“I wouldn't know where to start.”

Stradus's was about to say something more, but his eyes lost their life. The energy around his body collapsed, and he slumped in my arms. Focusing his mana had sped up the spell. The black mana of death encompassed his body, about to claim him.

I clasped my hands onto Stradus's. “I call upon the gods to transfer my energy into his.”

The different manas inside me flowed from me to him—fire being the most dominant. I put as much of myself into him as I could without fainting from exhaustion. Stradus smiled, his eyes turning a clear blue with a hint of red.

“I've traced Premier's spell. He's in Masep, Renak’s old place of rule, located deep in the Wastelands. I want you to get the book from him. Tread carefully. You have two months before he will fully recover. And don't kill him.”

The princess gasped at this, and so did I. “Why not? After all the pain and suffering he's caused, why shouldn't I kill him?”

“He still plays an intricate part in what's to come.”

I gazed into Stradus's glazed eyes, trying to figure out the future. What role could Premier possibly play? A storm swirled in Krystal’s eyes. She didn't agree with letting Premier live.

Stradus coughed up some more blood and squeezed my hand tighter. His eyes faded, becoming dilated. He looked towards the afterlife. “Bury my ashes in the…garden.”

“Yes, Master…I mean Stradus,” Once someone was declared a wizard, they no longer called their former teacher master.

Stradus smiled. “Good, Wizard Hellsfire, good. I always thought of you…as a son. Take care, my…” The pressure from his hand faded. His whole body caved in as the spell finished its feast.

Memories flooded my mind, forcing tears to well up. I remembered the times he taught me how to make potions in his garden. I made a rejuvenation potion wrong, and it ended up bitter. Master Stradus couldn't stop laughing when he saw the expression on my face and how frantically I tried to spit the stuff out.

He was also gentle. There were countless times when I saw him tending to the plants in his garden with the softest touch. I even saw him singing and talking to the plants on occasion. I questioned him about that, but he always denied it. King Sharald would have been proud to see him continue what he learned from his elven friends.

My magic would always be associated with him. Master Stradus taught me what I wanted to learn the most—how to control the fire within me. But that's not all he taught me, or even the most important thing. He showed me how beautiful magic could be. How when used properly, it connected a person with everything, and those things were connected to him. He taught me that it wasn't about power or control, it was about being alive. I thought my magic was a curse because of the harm I caused. Now I didn’t think I could live without my magic. It was all because of him.

And now he was dead.

“You were the closest thing to a father I had. I will do as you ask. Mother was right. You truly were an angel.”

I swept my hands over his face and closed his eyes. I leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. I got up, staring at his lifeless corpse. This was my fault. If only I hadn't disobeyed him, if only we had attacked Premier together at full strength. We could have beaten him together. Book of Shazul or no, Stradus was the stronger wizard.

“Hellsfire,” the princess said, startling me. I had forgotten she was there.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

I let myself be swept up by her. Krystal reeled me in until our bodies pressed together. When I looked into her gentle, purple eyes, that's when I lost it.

I wept for my former master's death, I wept for the people who had died, and I wept for the pain the survivors would go through. The princess didn't interrupt me. She held me in a warm embrace and let me cry on her shoulder. It was several long minutes before all those pent-up emotions of fear, anxiety, and guilt were manageable. They were never going to leave completely, but I needed the time to let part of them go.