Page 7 of The Dark Mage
H ow to describe the next three months? Classes and lessons filled Ren’wyn’s days with the promise of knowledge and the challenge of exams and papers.
Shifts in the catacombs were equal parts painful and rewarding.
Peria bought bottles of nail polish in every imaginable color, and weeknights settled into a familiar routine of tea, studying, and Peria’s animated recounting of her many conquests.
Friendship illuminated the darkest corners of Ren’wyn’s spirit—the ones that ached with reminders of the fu ture.
It was their new companion who made this winter unique.
Afternoons with Esrin became a highlight, his easy laughter and unashamed confidence attracting Ren’wyn in ways she hadn’t thought possible.
The darkness of Erst’s cruelty seemed to dissolve like fog in his sunshine.
Sleep came more easily, nightmares became infrequent, and Ren’wyn found a fresh wellspring of energy to tackle new tasks and conquer new skills.
Even her dark mage Masters noticed the change, setting increasingly difficult goals.
Ren’wyn relished the challenges, delighting in her successes as her newfound contentment fueled her m agic.
When the weather allowed, the trio hiked the woods around campus or visited nearby lakes.
Esrin danced snowflakes and leaves for them using his magic, conjuring shapes with puffs of air that earned delighted giggles.
He used his power over water to strip frost from the leaves, gathering the crystals into Ren’wyn’s hair like a glittering crown.
On a rainy weekend, Esrin urged them outside, shielding them with magic like an umbrella.
Days filled with honest laughter had been a rarity in Ren’wyn’s life, but Peria and Esrin made them commonplace.
This was what it would be like to be safe and loved, to live a story with a happy ending, and Ren’wyn considered what it would take to grasp that fu ture.
Every few weeks, Esrin threw a party in his apartment.
Though he often lamented not having “real friends,” he clearly enjoyed the attention of his admirers.
Despite his popularity, he was never too busy for Ren’wyn, always making room for her under his arm and Peria under the other.
Their friendship became a safe haven, banishing Ren’wyn’s anx iety.
As winter dwindled, Ren’wyn realized she had gone without a nightmare for an entire month.
On Lyr’ren’s birthday, memories of Vair brought their familiar ache and exhaustion.
Peria dragged Ren’wyn to Esrin’s apartment, where the three sat by the fireplace, playing board games and sharing a dessert from Ishvaen made of flaky pastry, honey, nuts, and rose water.
The desire to halt time, to remain with these two forever, burned within Ren ’wyn.
Peria rarely used her empathy around them, though when Ren’wyn panicked or suffered nightmares, her friend responded quietly with calm and peace.
One night, drunk and laughing, Peria bathed all three of them in her magic.
Ren’wyn shrieked with uncontrollable giggles until she nearly passed out.
The trio collapsed into a heap in the center of Esrin’s apartment, falling asleep in each other’s arms. Peria apologized profusely the next morning, but Esrin and Ren’wyn assured her they love d it.
Ren’wyn’s own magic was harder to share.
The Void always felt familiar and comfortable under the Masters’ guidance, but public displays of her power were complicated.
The spoken and unspoken prejudices of her classmates kept her confidence tightly tethered.
More than anything, Ren’wyn longed to be normal—small and tame enough to fade into the background—even though the Void sang in her veins, often eclipsing the power of her Mas ters.
While Peria’s openness never wavered, Esrin’s passing comments betrayed the prejudices he had absorbed about dark mages.
Rumors of dark magic fueled by murder lingered beneath even his kind words.
Ren’wyn didn’t mind suppressing her power in his presence; his comfort and attention felt worth the trade.
Still, she knew that for Esrin to see her as more than a friend, he would need to witness her m agic.
One winter afternoon, she led Esrin and Peria into the woods, hoping the cold would soften the Void’s unearthly chill. Stilling her mind, she focused on her breathing. After two months together, Ren’wyn trusted Esrin enough to share this part of her self.
Cold shadows materialized around her hands, tendrils curling through the winter air like living mist. The Void’s song swelled in her blood, truth and hope flowing through her like ink in water. Peria’s deep blue aura surrounded her with love and trust, but Esrin gasped audibly, stepping back.
The shadows wreathed Ren’wyn, clinging to her like lovers.
At a flick of her fingers, shadowy dust danced around Peria’s feet, drawing a quiet breath of wonder from her.
The shades stirred, whispering softly, their voices like a breeze through dry leaves.
Peria’s empathic energy magnified the calm harmony between magic and mage, amplifying it ten fold.
But when Ren’wyn turned her magic toward Esrin, he reco iled.
“No,” he ga sped.
The shame was instant and consuming. Her power drained away under Esrin’s frightened gaze. The shadows fled, the whispers silenced. Even Peria stepped back, unwilling to confront Esrin’s disappr oval.
Run.
The thought was overwhelming. Ren’wyn turned toward campus, the woods suddenly cold and lifeless.
Gone was the glory of white branches and the flit of chickadees; even the silence felt hollow.
Only Esrin’s green aura remained in her periphery, but it was no longer comforting—it was the green of sickness and d ecay.
“Ren’wyn,” Esrin called, chasing after her. “Ren ’wyn!”
He caught her shoulder, spinning her to face him. His aura had dimmed to near invisibility, and his face was stri cken.
“Ren’wyn, I’m…” Esrin faltered. “It’s new, that’s all. Give me time. Give me a ch ance.”
His sorrow fed on her compassion. He knew he had hurt her and regretted it. She nodded to show she heard him but found herself at a loss for words. The encounter had stirred her deepest fears—the fear of rejection and the memory of Erst’s cru elty.
“Give me time too,” she whispered, turning toward the d orms.
That evening, a bouquet of three dozen blood-red amaryllis arrived for Ren’wyn, studded with pine and fir covered in magical frost. The frost thawed quickly, but the effect was breathtaking. Attached was a simple note:
I’m sorry. Please forgiv e me.
Her heart thawed like the frosty evergreen as she read it. When she saw Esrin again, she hugged him and kissed his cheek, leaving his face pink. But from that point on, she refrained from inviting him to her practices or solitary trips to the w oods.
When spring arrived to dispel winter’s end, Peria developed a nasty cough, but she urged Ren’wyn to attend their Friday evening at Esrin’s without her. Ren’wyn didn’t want to leave her alone and miserable, but Peria insisted. Relenting, Ren’wyn bundled up for the short walk.
Esrin opened the apartment door, and she handed him a bottle of wine.
“No Peria?” he asked, glancing behind her curio usly.
“No Peria,” she confirmed. “She caught whatever’s going around in the self-defense class she’s tutoring. Nasty cough, but no f ever.”
“I hate being sick. Come in.” He smiled, his eyes warm and br ight.
At the table, Esrin opened the soup tureen and passed her a roll. Without Peria’s teasing and loud commentary, the room felt vast and empty. The silence fueled her social anxiety, that same unease that had always made parties and gatherings diffi cult.
“I love winter,” Esrin remarked, breaking the silence with a smile, seemingly at ease. “My power has always thrived in winter too. Whenever I could sneak away, I practiced in the snow. My mother used to say I was like one of the gods of old when I drove the winter to my bid ding.”
He swirled his wine, the way he always did while thinking. Meeting her eyes across the table, he sipped from the g lass.
“Winter is when most people die,” she said before catching his expression.
His face paled. “Sorry, that was bleak. I mean, winter is when my power feels strongest. The Void isn’t pleased that people die, and not all of them become shades.
Many move on, fulfilled, beyond the Void.
Some winters were harder at home—hiding my awareness of the shadows that lingered in every corner.
Other winters, especially the gentler ones, I escaped to the forest to work with my power, keeping it subdued at home. ”
Esrin leaned back from his empty bowl and plate, swirling his wine again. Ren’wyn squirmed uncomfortably in her chair at the returning sil ence.
“I’m sore,” he admitted. “Hard day in the training ring. Let’s sit on the c ouch.”
So many nights here had been spent happily, filled with games, jokes, and stories.
As they walked to the couch, wine glasses in hand, Ren’wyn felt her tension ease.
The three of them had carved out a new space together.
Gone was the desperate need to complete every assignment perfectly to impress Vair.
No longer did concerns about Lyr’ren dominate her waking thoughts.
Here, with socked feet intertwined with hers, sat evidence that someone else could occupy that space in her mind.
“I’ve spent five years here, mostly alone,” Esrin said, refilling their glasses. “You and Peria have filled this year with laughter and l ight.
“I wish I could take you to Ishvaen. You’d love it. It’s busy and beautiful. The sea breeze is fresh and sweet, and winter is milder than in the Territories. We have parties that last until the late hours, with dancing and drinking. In the summer, we play games on the lawn under paper lant erns.”