Is it because I did the unspeakable? It was needed. You would understand. You would have done the same.

When there was darkness, there was no pain. Yet the darkness faded in bright flashes, bringing forth a pain that soared through his body, convincing his senses that the dagger had tore each of his veins apart. In his mind, there was but one thought going round: The marble merchant had acted on orders of King Thomas. Why would he be loyal to a King that wasn't his?

Not even the darkness brought an answer to that question.

Familiar voices resounded in the distance. Two deep ones and a lighter one. Katla, Leo, and Hawk. A piece of leather was pushed into his mouth. He spat it out, only to receive it back. He resisted a second but not a third time, too weak to fight it.

A pair of hands pulled him up, holding him. "Be brave, son. Braver than you have ever been."

As liquid was poured into the wound, he clenched his teeth on the leather piece. The pain in his chest intensified, small pauses a false hope for it to ever end. Another wave of burning liquid crashed onto him. He writhed. His limbs moved out of control, leaving him paralysed in his own shaking.

Leo and Katla were yelling at each other when a third wave hit him. He grew faint in the head and embraced the dreamless sleep that was calling for him. If this was the time for him to meet Mother in the heavens, then he was ready. Anything was better than living in this world of liars and murderers.

The Gods in the Heavenly Halls didn't want him. Not yet. 

He woke up in a strange bed in a foreign room with black curtains, a steady and rhythmic purring snore pulling him out of a zone between life and death, and threw him back to the living. Biting away the throbbing ache, he turned his head towards the noise.

It belonged to Katla. His master was sitting in a rocking chair by the smouldering fireplace, his cheek pressed against a pillow, a thick book resting on his lap. His arm dangled lifelessly, between his fingers a silver chain.

In a reflex, Fox ran his hand along his neck, only to find bare skin and a bandage. Katla was holding his necklace, his fox pendant. That was odd.

"You're awake." Carrying a scroll under her arm, Hawk approached him. "Your master—not so much. I'm surprised he didn't fall asleep much earlier. Hardly ever left your side. It's been over two days now."

"Two days?" he repeated, half of it muffled by a yawn.

"Yes. The Gods are on your side, cub. A few more inches to the right and the dagger would have penetrated a lung. A couple of inches down, and it would have hit your heart."

"It would?"

His breath sputtered as Hawk sat down on the bed, placing the scrolls by his side. Her fingers touched the bandage, removing it. She took the piece of leather—marked with holes and other bite marks—from the nightstand. "Here. It will hurt."

"What are you gonna do?"

His answer came as she conjured a jet of clear blue water in her hand. She blew into the water, sending a miniature-sized gust of wind and rain into the wound. When the pain hit him, he bit the leather with all his might.

Why was Hawk treating him? He didn't understand. It had been ages since she and Katla had loved each other. If anything, they were enemies now."

"I don't hate your master. He angers me in every way possible, yet I find myself yearning for him when he's not near me. There's something enigmatic about him, like he was born out of the rawest and purest form of magic." Hawk exhaled, a puff of hot air escaping her lips.

Fox winced as the steam hit him. "What's enigmatic?" he mumbled.

"Mysterious—a puzzle that can't be solved."

That was true. His master had burnt Laneby for coins, killed his family, and had kept Seb's identity hidden from him. Despite it all, he couldn't imagine a life without him. He hungered for his attention, to sit down on his lap and tell him all about the marble merchant.

Fox squirmed away as she poured brandy on a white cloth. He didn't look forward to what was going to happen.

"Yes, it will hurt," she warned. "Brace yourself, cub."

"Hang on." He removed the leather piece, cocking his head. "You can't look into my brain like this. You promised the King."

"Ariel keeps forgetting that I don't need to." She dipped the cloth onto the wound, which made him clench his fists instead; so much pain. "Once the connection has been established, I can catch bits and pieces— mostly feelings. The stronger the emotion, the easier it gets. And I've learnt to interpret body language. More often than not, I do that instead of going into the dark crypts of people's mind. Fewer tears, less energy spilt. Win-win for everyone."

She stopped and reached for a fresh bandage. Gently, she tied it around his shoulder, covering the wound. The pain dulled back to throbbing.

"Have you ever taken any memories?" he asked.

"Yes." She secured the bandage with a silver pin. "But never yours. Why your master decided to tamper with your memories, I cannot answer that for him. You'll have to ask him."

"Katla took my memories of Seb?"

His master had betrayed him, but why?

Hawk rose from the bed. She bent over to peck him on the cheek. "Rise and shine, Dragon Boy. Someone's here to see you."

Katla woke up with a start, the book sliding off his lap. It was inches from crashing on the dark red carpet when Hawk snapped her fingers. It floated, before slowly drifting upwards. The cover read: ' A Thousand Poisonous Plants and Their Purposes'. Not even Nick would find that a light read.

"I'll fetch Ariel," Hawk said. "As agreed."

"Yeah, yeah... fine." Katla rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then ran his hand along his two-day beard. He stared at Fox. "Hey, son. How are you?"

"Not well." A sharp jab stabbed Fox in the shoulder as the thick book landed on the bedside table with a thump. The door fell shut. "I remember Seb. I know he's a Prince."

His master was silent.

Fox clenched his lips to keep the tears at bay. "Why wasn't I allowed to know that?"

"Son... I...." Katla's hand touched his.

Fox jerked it away, hid it under the blanket and ignored the pain of his sudden movement. "Why? You have to tell me."

Katla turned his gaze away from him. "It was convenient."

"Convenient?"

"Handy."

"I know what convenient means, Katla. I don't have foam in my brain."

"You already talk like a northerner." Katla chuckled, softly as though he understood the inappropriateness of the situation. "But, you are right. You deserve an explanation."

"You promise to tell me the truth now?"

Katla laid his hand on his heart. "I saw you in Laneby, with your friends. When I took you, I told myself that it was Kindness talking—I was saving a child magician from southern hate. I wanted to give you a home—a real home—a place where you could be yourself without getting mocked. I was afraid that if you knew about your friends, Prince Sebastian in particular, you would never accept me in your life. When you complained about that headache, I gave you a potion. When you were sound asleep, I wiped away most of the encounter with Hawk and Ariel. I didn't dare to go further in time. I'm not that skilled."

"So you would have wiped all my memories if you could?" Fox lowered his head, betrayal and confusion taking the upper hand. "I liked living in Laneby, Katla. There was no hate. Everybody just assumed I was a gifted Fire Master, just like Alex was a good archer. Lord Brandon never knew I was a magician."

"I doubt that." Katla hummed, playing with the fox pendant.

"Can I have that back?"

"Later. It needs to be fixed." Katla opened his hand, revealing the broken chain. "Leo found it in the grass when he returned with Hawk and a couple of Healers to examine Mallard's body. You killed that man, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to, but then it happened and..." Fox sniffed. "Am I murderer now?"

"No." Katla placed the necklace onto the nightstand, in between the bottle of brandy and the leather piece. "Leo and I rummaged Mallard's home, looking for clues. We found this."

He handed him a brown parchment bearing a dark green seal. The wax was cracked, but the tree with wide branches was still visible. Sometimes pigeons carrying similar letters came to Laneby for Lord Brandon. It was the royal seal.

"Mallard told me something." Fox shuddered. "He said that King Thomas doesn't want me sitting on his throne."

"Yeah, it's a classic Half-Ear trick. The man makes deals with ordinary folks, turns them into spies and assassins." Katla leant forward. "Read it."

Fox opened the letter. In neat, curly handwriting it was stated that Lord Sebastian would issue a reward of ten thousand gold pieces and a building of a hundred square feet in Sundale was promised to Mallard if he killed Fox, also known as Henry, a boy of ten with red hair and green eyes. At the bottom, the paper was signed with a rapid, more sloppy hand: H.M. King Thomas III

Tears dripped down on the parchment in thick blobs. "But why? I don't understand. Seb's my friend. He would never... never..."

"Hush." Katla touched his head, ruffling his hair. "I bet Half-Ear never counted on his puppet meeting such a skilled magician. I'm proud of you, son. You defended yourself so well."

"I got lucky... I wanted to show him how to kill a rat and I was so angry at you and..."

"I think you're a great magician, son. And a brave warrior too."

Fox's eyes landed on the book. "Do you think he was Panthera's murderer too?"

"We found no such evidence." Katla lifted his shoulders into a shrug. "I don't want to rule it out, but it's unlikely. Panthera was poisoned. Mallard attacked you with a dagger."

Fox nodded, though he wasn't convinced. Mallard could have always changed his mind when poison didn't kill Prince Felix. "Katla, do you know why Half-Ear wants me dead? Is it because I'm a magician?"

"Yeah, he dislikes magicians." His master gazed into the fireplace, then after a moment of silence, he got up and took something from the table behind him. "Fawn and Badger came by earlier before travelling back to Starford. They got you a piece of Does's apple pie. Do you want some?"

Fox licked his lips. He hadn't eaten in two days; he was starving. "Can I eat here, in bed?"

"Sure." He placed the cloth on the blanket. "The crumbs are Hawk's problem. Not mine." He winked.

Fox decided not to think too much about the Greenlander hate for magicians, but he couldn't quite shake off those thoughts either as he munched on the pie, savouring the sweet and creamy taste with every bite. He had never hurt anyone—save for the marble merchant. It still didn't explain why the Greenlander King feared he would take the throne.

He was drinking a cup of milk that Katla had poured him when King Ariel barged through the door, Grandmaster Hawk following in his trail. He was carrying something rectangular, a white sheet covering it.

"He already knew about Half-Ear being behind this," Katla said to the King. "Mallard must have told him in his last moments."

"Shows what a fool he was," the King grunted. He sat down in the rocking chair that Katla had been sitting in and placed the rectangular object by the bed. "But no match for this lad."

"No," Fox said. 

It was odd that the King was here. He looked old and tired, with many wrinkles on his forehead. 

"But still quite the scare, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I thought Silvermark was a safe place for magicians."

"It should be." The man grabbed the rectangular object, pulling off the cloth and revealing a wooden frame. "Your master and grandmaster have asked me to tell you a story. One that will explain recent events."

He picked up the frame and put it on his lap, the picture facing Fox. Four boys, children from roughly seven to twelve years old gazed at him. The tallest one had long blond hair and icy blue eyes. Next to him was a boy with a round face, black hair and green eyes. On the ground, the two others sat. Both of them were blue-eyed. The smallest one had black hair, the other blond hair.

"Who are they?"

"That's me." King Ariel pointed at the tall blond boy. "This painting was made thirty years ago to celebrate a rare economical treaty between The Greenlands and Silvermark. All four princes in one picture. Due to issues in the silver mines, the treaty fell apart within the first decade of its existence. I've been thinking of throwing this away, but I'm glad I didn't."

"So then that's your brother." Fox moved his good arm towards the smaller blond boy. "And then the other two are Lord Brandon and King Thomas."

"Correct."

Fox cocked his head. "But The Greenlander King's ears aren't half. They're normal."

"Yeah, it's only a nickname. His right ear got injured, and he lost the ability to hear from that ear," the King explained. "A hunting incident some claim. Others were talking about a nightly duel gone horribly wrong. There were whispers too—about that peculiar, hot-tempered Prince Brandon—that magic was involved. I didn't believe much of it. People say so many things to bring royal families into discredit."

"Yet he disappeared shortly after the incident. Nobody knew where too," Hawk added.

"Indeed. And Half-Ear got married to an Ician Princess. The youngest of King Alder's daughters. King William disguised it with another treaty, telling his advisors that it was the best a cripple could do. My own father bought it. I was less convinced by these southern politics."

"I don't understand. What does this have to do with me?" Fox asked.

Katla handed the King a mirror, which he also turned to Fox. "Have a look at the painting, lad. And at yourself."

Fox looked at the reflection of himself. His green eyes and red hair, and then at the painting of the four Princes. He shook his head. "What should I see?"

"Hey, can you conjure a large flame?" Katla crouched by his side. "The biggest you can think of. Use all of your magical energy."

"Alright."

Fox didn't understand why he had to, but he turned his hand and squinted, imagining a flame that reached all the way to the ceiling. A flare spiked up, yet before it touched the wooden top, Katla pushed it back.

"Keep fighting, son."

Fox struggled to keep his flame up, his hair rapidly turning black, until there wasn't a red hair left. He looked at himself in the mirror and again at the four princes. "Lord Brandon had black hair and green eyes, but why is that important?" he yelled.

"I believe that he is your father," King Ariel stated. "It would explain everything. The events of fifteen years ago, Half-Ears ruptured eardrum and why he hides it behind a large obsidian stone."

"But that isn't possible! I never saw him play with fire. He can't be. My father was a blacksmith. He did play with fire."

"Do you not remember the council meeting?" Hawk asked. "I discussed how magical traits are passed along. A mother usually passes along the same element to their child, but a father their connected element. We believe Brandon may have been an Air Magician. It explains why you're a Fire Magician."

"No, you're all lying!" Fox shouted. "If he were a magician, he would have stopped Katla when he attacked Laneby. He was the best warrior I knew."

"I admit that he made no attempt to use Air Magic on me. He used a sword to defend himself." Katla failed to meet his eyes; his master hardly ever spoke about the massacre. "But he wouldn't be the first southerner to refuse to resort to his talents, even in great need."

"Brandon the Stubborn he was called, and stubborn he could be," King Ariel said. "It's not unthinkable that he took his secret to the grave, too ashamed of who he really was."

"But I can't be his son. My father was Harald the blacksmith. He was married to my mother, Rose. They were my parents."

"Half-Ear would never care about a blacksmith's boy." The King leant forward. "His mistake was sending that assassin after you. When you arrived in my throne room that evening after the harvest moon, my theory formed when I stared into those green eyes of yours. It almost seemed too good to be true, but it seems like the truth now—you are Brandon's bastard son."

"You could become King, son." Katla sat down on the bed. "The Greenlander law is the same as the one here in Silvermark. If there are no male heirs within three generations, a bastard can seize the throne."

"No, stop talking! I want you to all stop talking." The truth was crushing him down, confusing him more than he already was. He wanted Mother to hold him, to tell him that none of it was true. "You're all liars!"

"Truth is a fragile thing, Fox." The King seemed unimpressed by his shouting. "And saying this, I require something of you."

"What?"

"Your necklace." He picked the broken chain from the nightstand. "I need Half-Ear to believe you're dead so he'll stop hunting you down. As your King, it's my duty to guarantee your safety. I'll be lying, but it's a lie I need to tell."

"But it's mine. My father—" Fox wasn't sure how to complete that sentence. Father had made that fox pendant for him, but he wasn't his father. It was all so complicated. How could Father not be his father?

"We need it, son. Prince Sebastian would know about this necklace, wouldn't he? He'd also know that it was one of your most treasured belongings—one you would not part of easily." Katla moved an inch closer and grabbed a strand of his hair, painlessly slashing a piece off. "This and your pendant will be enough to forget about you. Once your shoulder is healed, we'll continue training—pretend this never happened."

"Alright." Resultantly, he agreed. A fresh burst of tears overwhelmed him as King Ariel put the chain into his pocket. He sunk back into the bed, pulled the blanket over his head and curled up into a ball, embracing the pain that came with it.

"Son?" Katla touched his back.

Fox shuddered, his emotions taking all control. "Go away! Leave me alone! I just wanna be left alone!"

Alex had once said the world would crumble down whenever he was left alone, but that wasn't true. His mere existence had already shattered the world into a million pieces.