They trudged through the snow towards the Accademia, and Arturo's eyes glinted with restrained anger with the thought of what Kamril had done. He grew more and more enraged as time went on, and once they had reached the gates he was practically furious considering his normally calm demeanor. Storming into the building, he brushed aside all the servants' cries of fear and disbelief, and went right up the central staircase to where his quarters had been.

Bursting through the doors, he found the unfaithful mage sullenly admiring himself in the mirror.

"Kamril," he intoned. "You must leave. Now." His deep blue eyes were stormy, and seemed to almost swirl about like the roiling sea in his anger.

The usurper whirled around in shock. It seemed that this face was the last he expected to see, and his haughty manner faltered in the face of this discovery. Realizing that all was over, he stood up stiffly and said, "Very well, I will leave. But this will not be the last you hear of Kamril!" With that, he walked towards the door slowly, trying to retain the semblance of dignity although all knew he was disgraced. He slunk off down the marble staircase and swept as grandly as his injured pride would let him out of the central entrance.

Once the four of them left the room, the servants who had been watching timorously from all around gave a cheer. "How?" was the cry that many of them gave.

Arturo waved his hand in order to quiet the crowd, and said "Do not fear, I will tell you all the tale of it soon. But for now, I have pressing business to attend to in the city. Would one of the fire mages care to accompany me?"

Two chefs, a maid, and three butlers yelled out their willingness eagerly.

"Giovanni, please, come with us. The rest of you, be merry! I shall right the wrongs which Kamril has committed in my absence." Turning to Micael and the others, he said tenderly, "Come. We shall go into the city and bring your mother back here forthwith."

The little boy's eyes lit up with delight. Though it had only been a short while since he had seen his mother, it seemed like ages given all that had occurred.

As soon as Giovanni, a chef, had risen to meet them, Arturo started to discuss their plans.

"This little boy's mother has been cast out due to Kamril's cruelty. We must find her at once so that we can bring her back here, but the snow is almost impassable now. Can you melt it for us?"

Giovanni nodded vigorously. "I'd be honored, sir. Life under that traitorous wretch has been a trial, and your return is like a breath of fresh air to us all."

The regal Arturo smiled. "Now now, you must not be so quick to sing my praises! After all, I was deceived by his dissemblance to begin with."

In response, the chef merely shook his head. "It's no matter. I'm sure it'll be better now that you're back."

"That remains to be seen. Ah, the night is already upon us, but I have no wish to let my dear Elena spend another night languishing in the city's slums. Then let us go, ere there is no time left to search!"

Cyrus and Micael both accompanied the headmaster and the chef, while Ignatius remained behind citing the work he would have to do to make the master's quarters presentable again. They thanked for all the help he had rendered, and then went out into the cold night.

As soon as they were outside, the fire mage summoned up a dancing spark which preceded them as they walked, melting away the snow rapidly with its licking tongues of flame. He held another up in his hands and stood in the center of the other three, using it to warm the group and take off the biting chill of the night air. It was almost as if they were still inside by the heart, and they were all grateful for his presence.

Entering into the city, they walked for a long time to reach the slums to the north. The cobblestone streets and row after row of mismatched, shoddy buildings began to wear on their minds. Soon, however, they had passed into the Slums, and reached Micael's house within a few minutes. It was by this time very late in the evening, but Arturo went ahead and knocked on the door regardless, anxious to rescue his suffering cousin from this poor environment.

A rustling could be heard within, and an unfamiliar women appeared at the door. Bleary eyed, she demanded "What do you mean, calling at this hour of the night!"

All of them were taken aback. "Does not Elena reside in this building?"

Looking a little more awake, she adopted a more sympathetic face. "You've come too late, sirs. She passed away last week."

Staring in disbelief, none of them quite realized what the woman had just said. Slowly, the significance began to sink in. Micael started to sob, and soon was bawling uncontrollably. Arturo's eyes brimmed with tears, but he said only, "We are sorry to have disturbed you."

"My condolences," the woman said gingerly. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Cyrus took poor Micael's hands and tried to comfort him. "It'll be okay, don't worry. She's gone to a better place now, and won't ever have to be sick again." But his tears continued unabated. Arturo to his side stood stock still, seemingly frozen into a statue by grief.

After a few moments, they slowly, leadenly began the journey home. All felt devastated that their trip had been for nought, and the poor woman's relations most of all. Yet there was nothing to be done.

"Kamril did this. I was too lenient! I should have kept him imprisoned and never let him see the light of day again. But it's too late, now. Too late," he said, choking on the words.

"It's not your fault, master," consoled the chef.

"But it is my fault! A thousand times over. Oh, how I curse you, deceiving wretch! I wish you had never come to our Academy!"

They walked on in silence for a time, until the large silhouette of the Accademia in the moonlight filled their view. Going inside, they were greeted warmly by Ignatius.

"Welcome back! But where is..."

No one spoke, but their solemn faces told the tale of what had transpired.

"Such tragedy! Oh, foul Kamril! May he be thrice cursed, the scum!"

"There is nothing to be done. Come, let us retire for the evening. Ignatius, please give them proper quarters tonight. We will figure out what to do in the morning."

The party separated with heavy hearts. Nothing seemed to bring them consolation, and Cyrus saw that Micael was still crying softly. He hugged the poor child in sympathy.

"Don't worry, little one. It'll be alright," he said as he stroked the young boy's hair. If only he could believe it himself.

In the morning, the sun shone bright and cheerily through their room's small window, seeming almost a mockery of their grief. The boys arose slowly and tramped out into the hallway, only to find that they were in the midst of a long row of rooms. They had been so tired the night before that they barely realized where they had been put up. This must be the student dormitories in the east wing. Indeed, as they went out into the main hall, they found a number of students milling about, chatting and gossiping together. Some gave them quizzical looks as they passed by, but no one stopped to talk to them until they came close to leaving into the central hall. Then, a cheerful, round faced boy of about Cyrus' age accosted them unexpectedly.

"Hello there. New students, I see. I noticed no one was going to meet you, so I'll be the one to welcome you." He offered his hand in greeting, and both of them shook it. "My name's Kale. And yours?"

They introduced themselves, and the boy did a double take. "Then you're the fellows who've been hiding down in the cellars?! Blimey. It's an honor to meet you. I'd never have the courage to try a stunt like that myself."

"It wasn't so much courage as necessity, I can tell you."

But Kale waved aside their objections. "Modesty, just modesty." He grew solemn. "I'm sorry to hear what happened to your mother," he said to Micael.

"There wasn't anything to be done," the little boy declared bravely, though his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

The boy resumed his cheerful manner. "Cheer up. Come, let's get some breakfast, and we can talk about it."

Going into the central hall, the three boys ascended the stairwell and began to walk about on the second floor. In the commotion of the previous evening, Cyrus and Micael had failed to realize that the second floor had anything on it aside from the headmaster's quarters. They now discovered that it also extended southward into a dining hall, which apparently rested atop the classroom area below. After ordering their meals at the far end, they sat down at one of the enormous tables that seated 50 apiece, and the boys began to tell the tale of their journey so far. Kale looked by turns intrigued and incredulous.

"You mean you really went into the Garden?"

"Yes, of course. And then we rescued Arturo from the spell that Kamril cast, and..."

Once Cyrus had concluded, Kale gave a low whistle. "I wish I had done anything near so exciting. I've been a student here since I was 10, and nothing's ever happened to speak of until you came along."

"Oh, come on, there must have been something."

He shook his head. "The teachers here know a lot and all, but they're very dull. I've never known one to do much of anything besides read their tomes and lecture on the importance of concentration and focus. Ah well," he sighed. "But what are you going to do now?"

"I realize that I have a lot to learn, so I think I'll become a student for a little while, at least until I can get some hint of what happened to the Gardener. As for Micael..." he began to whisper conspiratorially, "we don't know what his flower is. But he's got a great deal of power in him, if we could only figure out what it is."

"What are you saying about me?!" the young boy demanded.

Cyrus laughed and tousled his hair. "Don't worry about it. Let's go find Master Arturo and tell him of our plans."

They bid goodbye to Kale and set off to locate the headmaster. He was downstairs, talking to several professors and directing the affairs of the school as if he had never been away.

Once he saw them, he smiled pleasantly. "Ah, my young friends. It seems quite a lot has been done in my absence, but it is proving quite simple to put right now that I know of it. So, what is it you wish?"

"We were wondering if we... might be taken on as students."

"Of course! What less could I offer, since you have both been the heroes responsible for my safe return? I have just been talking with the teachers about your situation. Here, Halbert, Westinia, these are the boys I was telling you about."

The severe, brooding Halbert nodded somewhat curtly to both, while Westinia extended her hand warmly. "It's a pleasure to have you at our humble institution. I hope you'll like it here."

"Thank you." Turning to Arturo again, he asked "When shall we start?"

"Why, as soon as you wish! How does tomorrow suit you?"

"Very well."

"Excellent. In the meantime, why don't you go around and talk to some of the pupils? They've been anxious to meet you, since rumor travels fast among our students."

"We shall. Thank you, Master Arturo."

They decided to head through to the western side, where they had not yet been while the school was in session. This, it became apparent, was the girls' side of the academy. They attracted many stares, since they were the only males in the entire room, and were about to make a hasty retreat when they were met at the door by a girl who looked curiously like the female version of the boy who had greeted them earlier.

"Hello there. You two are new here, right?" She offered her hand. "I'm Kara."

Cyrus and Micael shook it, while exchanging a befuddled glance. This greeting was nearly exactly the same as the one that Kale had given them before!

"Uh, yes... you wouldn't happen to know a boy named Kale, would you?"

"Of course! He's my twin brother. Though he rarely comes to talk to me any more, except in classes and during meals. He's too shy to come over to the girls' commons, and he refuses to let me go to him. I think he's a little embarrassed; you see, he doesn't do as well as I with the classes here, and the teachers always make a big fuss by asking why he can't be as studious as his sister. I've offered to help him out, but he won't hear of it, and the others tease him mercilessly whenever I come over and try to tutor him."

The boy's failure to mention a sister became clearer now. He must feel as though he were in her shadow, and want to be known for his own merits. But refusing her help was just silly, after all.

"Maybe I'll talk to him about it. But why are there so few boys over here?"

"Oh, they all say it's too girly to be seen in here. But I'm glad you ignored all that foolishness."

Cyrus had merely not known, rather than desiring to break the tradition, but refrained from mentioning that he would have done the same had he heard beforehand.

"Well, classes start up again tomorrow, so I'd better be getting back to my studying. I must get ready, after all, since I want to begin the year with a head start. I'll see you later!" She waved cheerfully and turned back to go to the dormitories. Cyrus and Micael left to return to the boys' commons and find a place to relax for a time until the call for dinner.

Kale was nowhere to be found, so the pair waited by themselves. The older boy wondered what the classes would be like. It seemed there were entire areas of knowledge which he missed out on due to terminating his training with Saltrio, and he felt eager to learn what other skills might be open to him. He worried, also, about what would become of Micael; they could not go to classes together, for he would in a younger group, and besides, what he was actually capable of remained a mystery. Still, the future looked brighter than it had, and at least they would not be stuck in the cellars worrying about whether or not they would be discovered.

At dinnertime, they went upstairs to find Kale and Kara already waiting for them. Kale exhorted them, "Come on, get something quick before the best of it is gone!" The pair hastened to pick up their meals, then rejoined the twins at a long oaken table.

Kara grinned. "You're becoming something of celebrities. People keep stealing glances over at you, like you were some sort of legends."

"We didn't really do all that much, honestly."

"Ah, rubbish. If nothing else, You brought us a different headmaster, and the old one always did seem rather tiresome. Neither of us were around when Master Arturo was here at first, but the old students remember him quite fondly."

"What do you think of the teachers here?"

"Eh, not much to say. Some are fun, some are boring as can be. Do you know who you'll be having?"

"Halbert and Westinia, I think."

"Oh, that's luck for you! He's the driest man you'll ever see, but she's very nice. I suppose it'll work out in time. Both of them work primarily with earth mages, so you must be one of them, right?"

Cyrus nodded.

"How about you, my little friend?"

Micael raised his pale face to peer into Kara's. "Dunno," he said quietly.

Kale whispered in Kara's ear, and she glanced at him in surprise. "Oh! You poor thing."

Micael stared mutely at his plate.

"Cheer up, you'll be working with old Master Arturo. The older students tell me the headmaster takes it upon himself to deal with... special cases."

The little boy nodded, somewhat heartened by this revelation.

"Anyway, it's getting late. Perhaps we should head back to our rooms."

Standing up from the table, the group parted ways and Cyrus and Micael were left alone in their small chamber to ponder the day's events. The older of the two had chaotic and indecipherable dreams; yet sometime in the night, he had heard something of ominous portent. "In Ilesia, you will find a clue toward what you seek," a voice had said.

The thought was quickly pushed out of his mind, however, by the beginning of courses. Unexpectedly, he was roused out of bed by the tolling of a bell, which had not previously been rung. It seemed that with the return to scholarship, the routines changed somewhat around the Accademia. Cyrus and Micael followed the tide of people to breakfast, where they met up with their friends Kale and Kara to eat.

"When will the classes start?"

"In about an hour. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to eat. You can see the schedule on the dining hall doors; I don't know what class you'll be considered, but you can ask any of the teachers if you're uncertain."

"I hope I can do better on my studies this year," said Kale wistfully.

"Well, if you'd only let me give you some help..."

"No! You know the boys always crack jokes about it."

It was clear that this was not the first time they had had this debate. Cyrus attempted to step in as a peacemaker.

"Come on, Kale, let her help you. You don't have to be obvious about it; do your studying here in the dining hall or in the library."

"Are you sure?"

"It'll be fine, trust me."

"Well, maybe. I think I can do better on my own, though. I just have to try harder this year."

Kara glanced at her brother sympathetically, and shook her head. She knew he had studied for long nights but just didn't grasp enough of the fundamentals to keep up. Still, there was nothing to be done about it for the present, and she simply sighed before returning to her meal.

The bell rang yet again, this time signaling that classes were about to begin. Cyrus started to go off to check the schedule, but he stopped and peered down at Micael.

"You're sure you'll be alright on your own?"

He nodded bravely. "I'm sure."

"Well, good luck. I'd better go then." Cyrus grinned. "Make sure you don't give Master Arturo a hard time!"

Looking at the schedule, he realized that if Halbert and Westinia were to be his teachers, he must be considered a student of the second year. Was that really all his eight years of training amounted to? But then, he realized that much of that time had been lost when the children of Norven had to help with the harvest or other chores, whereas these students stayed full-time, and often had as much previous experience as he did or more. If that were the case, it might indeed prove challenging enough for one of his knowledge and skills.

Cyrus went down the stairs and into the southern half of the Accademia, the portion set aside for classrooms. The ceilings here were more modest than those in the commons areas, since the dining hall was situated directly overhead. He traveled down the hall to the classroom, and arrived just before Halbert had begun his plodding lecture.

"The magic... which we all possess... comes from the four elements... and is channeled via the flowers. The four elements are fire, water, earth, and wind. Can any one of you name the four elements?"

"Fire, water, earth, and wind," the class repeated.

"Now, let's do it one at a time." He indicated the student at the rightmost end of the first row.

The man could surely not be serious. He was going to have every student in the class repeat this most basic fundamental? But indeed, so he did. When his turn came, Cyrus felt a rash urge to stand up and proclaim his boredom to the world, but suppressed it and answered just as all the others. This, he reflected, was a rather inauspicious start to the year.

After an eternity had passed with each person answering the question in turn, Halbert continued in his stultifyingly tedious fashion. "We are given the ability... to utilize the energy... by... the flowers. When the flowers... are in full bloom... one's abilities are strong. When they are... closed... as in the wintertime... one's abilities are diminished."

"The flowers are contained... within the Gardens. Each person has... their own flower..."

Though the professor's droning continued in the background, Cyrus took the opportunity to catch up on much needed sleep. As he dreamt idly, a sudden, solitary whisper penetrated his thoughts.

"Ilesia!"

Abruptly, he awakened to find that class was ending. He joined the ranks of students filing out of the classroom, and walked down to where Westinia's class was held. What was in Ilesia that was so important for him to find? But he had little time to think about it before he arrived in the classroom and the lesson began.

"Welcome, class! My name is Westinia, and I'll be your instructor in the practical arts of energy redirection. I think it'd be best to start off with a demonstration. Now, if I could have a volunteer..."

Cyrus and several others raised their hands eagerly. She pointed to him, and he traipsed down swiftly to the front of the hall.

"Now, this may be a little... startling, but don't be alarmed, I won't harm you. Now, stand as still as you can.

The woman made a curious gesture with her hand, and a flaming sphere appeared around Cyrus so that he was not visible through the flames. She made further gestures, and the sphere opened up and became a ring which rotated around him before flying upward and reshaping itself into a fiery replica of the boy's figure. The flame version of Cyrus faced towards the crowd and winked before dissipating into thin air, leaving behind only the very shaken original.

As the class applauded, Cyrus resumed his seat both impressed and quite terrified. It seemed that Westinia's performance had already made her popular among the students, but in his case he would think twice before volunteering for another of her 'demonstrations.'

While the class unfolded, it appeared that the majority of the real learning for Cyrus would be here; the other was intended for students below his level, and the professor's droning voice would likely not allow him to pay attention even if there had been new material. He could make use of Halbert's class, then, as naptime if nothing else. Satisfied, he followed Westinia's lecture attentively, and found that it was indeed as intriguing as he had originally perceived. They were going to cover all of the capabilities of controlling the direction of energy, and even as they begun it seemed to him that he had only known a tiny fraction of what was possible via the power of magic.

Just before class concluded, Westinia held up her elegant hand for a moment to quell the students. "Now, I know that you are all excited for the new year, but let me warn you; this is no class for the inexperienced. We study the practice of magic in a way that can be dangerous, and I want to make sure that no one is harmed in the process. I think that some of you will remember what happened last year, when one of my students ended up with a broken leg thanks to a failed experiment in levitation. Now, if any of you has any trouble with any aspect of the course, please, come to me straight away, and do not attempt to use your powers on friends - at least, friends you would prefer to keep. Thank you all! Have a good day."

Cyrus walked out with a spring in his step. It seemed that the year was already beginning to look up, and he rejoined Micael, Kale, and Kara at lunch. They had already procured their food, which today appeared to be a flavorful pasta, topped in tomato sauce and garnished with attractive herbs. He hastened to get his own before sitting down to eat.

"How were all your classes? Micael?"

"Master Arturo just talked to me for a while, but I didn't have a real lesson."

"Ah, be patient. What about you two?"

The twins shrugged in unison. Kale sighed, and responded "Same as usual. How were yours?"

"It's just like you thought, Kara. Halbert was a bore, Westinia was quite good."

The girl smiled at him, pausing a moment to sip her drink before responding. "I knew it. Of course, in the spring, they tend to leave you to a different set of teachers."

"Well, I'm not sure that I'll be remaining through the spring."

Kale stared at him in surprise. "But why not?"

"Coming here wasn't really my purpose. You see, I'm actually on a sort of... errand."

"But you've been here for at least a month! Surely you meant to stay if you've already been here this long."

"Well, this errand is a very complicated one, to say the least. Let me explain."

He told them the story of how he had overheard Saltrio talking about the sun failing in strength, and had decided to travel to Rallia in order to look for one who might help to deal with it; namely, the Gardener. As he recounted the tale, the reasons why he might be leaving early became clear.

"And so, since no one has any idea where the Gardener seems to be, I'm at a loss for how to proceed. But it certainly seems that here is not the place to find out."

Kara nodded, still looking rather surprised over all the things which Cyrus had just described. "The entire thing is far beyond me. I can't imagine where you could find out something that nearly nobody knows."

"I've had... something of a hint, but I don't think it's really very reliable. For the last few nights, I keep dreaming that someone is talking about Ilesia, and that I can find 'what I seek' there. But I can't see who would be in Ilesia that would tell me what I need to know, or how that I would travel there since it's so far away."

Kale answered him. "The second problem is easy. There's boats leaving from the harbor all the time, and I'm sure Master Arturo would buy you a ticket for the help you've rendered him. As for what would be there...." he thought for a few seconds. "There's an Academy over there much like ours, except I think they call it 'L'Académie.' But there's no way to tell if they would know. Besides, to go there, you would need to speak Ilesian, unless you have the money to hire a translator for all that time."

"Why not just learn it? I'm sure it wouldn't be too difficult."

The boy stared at him strangely. "Are you mad? It could take years to learn it!"

Cyrus waved aside his objections. "It wouldn't be that bad, I'm sure. Besides, how many boys do you know that speak another language, outside of the scholars here?"

Kale acknowledged this; after all, gaining bragging rights was something he understood, even if the motivation was a little opaque. He acquiesced, saying "Very well, I suppose. Just don't say I didn't warn you it'd be hard."

"I wouldn't think of it. In any case, I'm glad to know that there might be some sense in looking into Ilesia. But why I dreamt it, I couldn't say..." He trailed off, noticing that some sort of argument appeared to be going on behind the twins. It seemed one of the boys at the nearby table was demanding something of another one more and more vehemently, and Cyrus started to walk over to see what was going on. By this time, their shouting could be heard throughout the dining hall, and all the students were observing the proceedings with interest.

"But it belongs to me! I bought it at the festival!"

"It's mine, I say! Give it here!"

The aggressor tackled the other boy and took him to the floor. The recipient of this violence was holding something, but the object was obscured by the scuffle. Cyrus stepped forward, his countenance fierce and his eyes dark and grim.

"That's enough!" he shouted, and the entire room rumbled as he spoke. He forced an energy current between them like a wedge, driving them apart but leaving both unharmed. He then stepped in between them, and more calmly asked, "Now, what precisely is the problem here?"

"I was just looking at the music box I bought while in town for the 'Fête des Fleurs' and he --" the boy stopped to point accusingly at the other "-- he tried to take it from me!"

The would-be thief held up his hands in a gesture of submission. "Fine," he said sullenly. "Keep the stupid thing, it's not like it's worth anything anyway." Seeing that the tide had turned against him, he slunk off to return to the dormitories.

"Oh, thank you! I thought for sure I was going to get a beating. I'm Paul. And you are?"

"Cyrus."

Paul beamed at him. "Why don't you take it? As a gift for helping me."

"After you went through all that trouble to keep it?!"

"Ah, think nothing of it. I wasn't really that fond of it anyway, it was more the principle of the thing. I insist, take it." He took Cyrus' hand and placed the little box in it. "I really can't thank you enough."

"It's nothing. If you get any more trouble from him, you just tell me, alright?"

Paul nodded, and the watching crowd began to dissipate when it appeared that no more fighting was going to take place. Cyrus seated himself back at the table, where all three of the others were watching him with wide eyes.

"What?"

Micael was the first to speak. "You were so amazing!"

"It wasn't really that much of anything."

"Still, that was... impressive," said Kale with a hint of awe.

"Well, would you have had me just leave him?"

Kara shook her head vehemently. "But I agree with Kale. Impressive."

"In any event, I gained a music box out of the bargain. Let's see what tune it plays."

He wound up the delicate little box. It had an intricate interlaced design on its sides, and seemed to be quite old. Once it was fully wound, he opened up the lid and notes began to emerge from the mechanism.

After a few bars, he realized that he recognized it from somewhere. This was the song they had sung in the pub on one of his first nights in Rallia! How did it go, again? Something about a girl from Ilesia, but the specifics had escaped him. However, he remembered the last line particularly, for it had sparked the memory of his former attempt at learning Ilesian. "Sans toi, ma cherie, je suis perdu." Without you, my dear, I am lost. Cyrus wondered that it should show up now, of all times, just as he was thinking about having to travel to Ilesia. But he put that thought aside, and closed the lid carefully before tucking the box away into his pocket.

That afternoon, he went to ask Master Arturo about taking lessons in the Ilesian language. The old mage was sitting in his chambers, having just been in conference with all of the professors to determine the direction that this year would take.

"Ah, Cyrus, my boy, come in! I have just been meeting with the teachers, and only now does it occur to me how many of them I've just met a few days ago. It's hard to believe that I was really trapped in the Garden for as long as that. But what did you want to see me about?"

"Well, sir, I was wanting to take lessons in Ilesian."

Arturo looked at him in confusion. "Why would you want to learn that?"

"I plan to go there, in order to continue my search for the Gardener, and I'll need to know the language in order to make my way there."

"I see. This is a very important matter indeed, then. To be honest, I would go to search for him myself, but both I and all of the staff seem to be needed here at the Accademia. But would you like for me to arrange you a tutor? Master Guillaume is an Ilesian himself, and I am sure he would be happy to take you under his tutelage. How does that sound?"

Cyrus looked at him gratefully. "That would be perfect. Thank you, sir."

"Think nothing of it. So, how have you enjoyed your classes so far?"

"Oh, quite good, sir."

"Really? Even Halbert's?" The headmaster raised his eyebrow quizzically.

The youth faltered. "Er, you see..."

Observing his expression, the old mage cut him off with a gentle gesture. "He is a good man, but even I can see he is a little less than... enthralling. Still, I beg you to give him a chance; you'll find that once he can be moved off the basics upon which he stubbornly insists, he has quite a bit to teach you."

"I will, sir. Thank you!"

After exiting the headmaster's chambers, Cyrus was pleased with the knowledge that his plans for Ilesia were set in motion. He had now only to apply himself for the remainder of his stay at the Accademia. It was too cold now to venture to Ilesia anyway; not until the spring would he be able to make the passage over the Locurian Sea, and that was still some months away. With this in mind, he decided to throw himself into his studies wholeheartedly, so as to be ready to leave at the earliest opportunity.

Cyrus returned to the dining hall and procured a cup of pacchiella, or tea flavored with jasmine flowers and a dash of honey and spices, a favored wintertime drink among the students. Sipping it, he thought about how his mother and Saltrio were doing back in Norven. The winters were always hard there, but both of them were strong enough to resist the chill. He began to remember a winter several years ago, when he had not been quite as lucky...

He went to the door, sneaking out before the napping Fiella had a chance to notice. Clambering over the snow on the doorstep, he embarked on what was to be the biggest adventure he'd had all season, since he was rarely allowed to go outside during the wintry months. The crisp crunching of the snow underfoot was a welcome contrast to the unending and unendurable crackle of the hearth, and the starting of his trek was quite enjoyable indeed.

The young boy began to feel a little uneasy as he ventured farther out into the woods, as his mother had always warned him against straying too far from the house, but her warnings were never sufficient to quell his enthusiasm. Still, he was not entirely comfortable wandering around in the somewhat forbidding woods. All of the trees which were so familiar took on a different character in their snowy raiment, seeming almost sinister in the gradually waning afternoon.

The turbulent, cloudy sky sometimes concealed the sun's light, making the world gray for brief stretches of time. It was cold, and he shivered in the chill, but he was determined to continue his expedition in order to enjoy this momentary freedom. As the snow gently fell, swirling about him while he walked, he began to feel drowsy. Walking and walking, the terrain seemed to blur before his eyes, becoming dull and unchanging, and his steps slowed. Unexpectedly, the wind picked up, and the snow was whipped into a sudden frenzy, rendering all of his surroundings invisible; it was barely even possible to see his hands in front of his face. This added assault made it even colder, and his wits began to slow down as it seemed that he was starting to succumb to hypothermia. His dulled senses detected that all was not well, but he trudged on for a few more faltering steps before falling.

It was so peaceful. Sleep beckoned him compellingly, and it seemed that he might as well acquiesce, if there was nothing else to be done. His thoughts were sluggish, and he began to close his eyes in surrender. A persistent, irritating inner voice was trying to awaken him, but he ignored it and blissfully sank deeper into unconsciousness. Before he gave in, he half-realized that it was his mother's voice calling him, seemingly from very far away. "Cyrus! Cyrus!" The muted sound was not enough to rouse him from the approaching slumber, and though he tried to wave his arms and call out to her, his limbs were stiff and unresponsive. Why not just sleep, he thought? And so he nearly began to do.

He knew only darkness for a time, and then he slowly felt warmth returning to his body. He was lying on a low cot by the fireplace, and felt his mother's hand resting on his forehead, but still felt drowsy and unable to open his eyes.

"Don't leave me, Cyrus! Oh please, don't leave me. I couldn't bear to lose you... not like I lost your father."

Cyrus nearly sprang up in surprise. His father! She had always told him that his father was still alive, but couldn't come to see them because he was on a long trip. Despite being now fully awake, he pretended to sleep to see what she would say.

She caressed his head gently, and spoke in a half-whisper as if she were afraid someone else might hear. "He went out one day, just as usual, and never came back. For a time, I hoped he would return, and told you so. But I don't think I can believe it myself anymore. Oh, please wake up!"

The boy made a big show of opening his eyes and stretching. "What happened?"

"Ah, thank goodness!" She embraced him, her face lit up with happiness. "You fell in the snow, darling. Promise me that you'll never go wandering off like that again! I've told you, it's too dangerous for you to go out by yourself!"

"Yes, Mother," he said dutifully.

The memory receded as the bell struck 6 o'clock, bringing him back to the present. Time, he noted, was never plentiful enough when you needed it. He sighed and drained the last drops of his pacchiella before getting on with life.