The door was right there. So was a squinty-eyed policeman who was facing away. Cypur ducked into a nearby room filled to the top with boxes. How did they know he would be here today? He didn't even know he would be here today!

"Are you sure he'll come today?" The voice of the policewoman was like poison to Cypur's ears. She was right, damn, there. What was he going to do?

"Absolutely," the policeman answered evenly. "What with Charmteller looking for him, it was easy to see. But you could have allowed me to do it sooner."

The policewoman gave a loud sigh. "Don't you tell anyone about this. Or that I allowed it."

"Absolutely not."

A long pause followed. Cypur shallowed his breathing. He couldn't use magick or be found out, but he wasn't sure if he could leave without being found out either.

"What else did you foresee?" the policewoman said.

Foresee? Illegal foreseeing magick? Cypur's heart thumped. Seeing the future was dangerous. Anyone could change the future for their own personal gain. The police, the ruling body of the Fourth Ring, should be the last citizens to use it.

"The Rauvuren will come soon," the policeman said. "We will succeed."

The policewoman's heels went clip-clop as she paced.

"Psst!"

Damn! She's here. Cypur turned to Wescherlie as she slipped into the room to stand beside him. A victorious sparkle in her eyes. She handed him a slip of paper.

"You stole it?" he hissed.

She rolled her eyes. "This is a library, stupid. They had paper and things to copy it down."

"This is your handwriting?" It was neater than he had imagined it to be. It looked like print.

She rolled her eyes again. "I'll take the proper compliment later," She jabbed the paper with her finger, "She was right. Marlevianne was right. Danisilus rí Charmteller killed them."

Sure enough, there were names of some Archs involved with a list of Rauvuren they killed. The second column next to the Arch names were the basic methods that made the kill. Cypur's stomach churned when he read Charmteller killed a Rauvuren Korva named Korvrelie en Vauphnen stabbing her in the throat and skinning the wings from her back.

His hand flew to his mouth. The final blow was a longsword cutting her in half, vertically.

He couldn't believe his race was so brutal! And for what reason did they do this? Marlevianne said it was a secret war. Probably it was for no reason, but Sorcerers never killed without reason.

"Oh, my starlights, Wes, I'm so sorry."

"And you know what? This Charmteller guy," She turned the paper over, and it listed Archs still alive, "he went on to have a family. He escaped conviction and they only exiled him when he killed another Sorcerer. This guy is evil. He shouldn't reproduce." She curled her lip.

Cypur noted next to Charmteller's name it said his spouse died at childbirth. The child of a father who would kill for no reason, he couldn't help but side with Wescherlie. What if the kid inherited his father's evilness?

"I'll kill Charmkiller and his kid if I see them. I know for a fact evil is passed down. I've seen it with the evil Kathula." Wescherlie took a deep breath. Her eyes moistened. "But you know, I feel relieved," She forced a smile, "I wasn't the only one of my kind. But—"

When she choked on her words, he pulled her into his arms. As she quietly sobbed, he rocked her back and forth and patted her back. Suddenly, he remembered his mother doing this for him when he was little. There had been good moments with his family. A pang in his chest hollowed his heart. In the end, they were his family and he missed them.

"Cypur Cromlight!" boomed the policeman's voice making them both flinch. Cypur and Wescherlie stood huddled in the doorway barely breathing. The policeman continued.

"I shall introduce myself. My name is Iffostineerioumus mór Akovistionus, or Eerious, but you must refer to me Officer Eerious. Understood, Cromlight? This is the start of a verbal fight. If you can withstand my attacks, I shall give you your adoption papers and let you go with your Rauvuren, but if you lose, both of you will be under arrest."

A verbal fight was a to-the-death debate without anything to debate about—essentially breaking the Sorcerer making them cry or lose their temper. Cypur had been in a few verbal fights. One he won, making the other cry. Another he lost, although he held his tears in until he got home.

"One on one. A verbal fight with me, Cromlight? I hear you are talented in aesthetic debate?"

"Ugh, Sorcerers are ridiculous," Wescherlie whispered in his ear. "We'll just come back later."

"If not," the policeman said, "I suppose I cannot put off the foreseen any longer."

Wescherlie arched her brow and mouthed, 'Foresee'.

"Stone the Rauvuren, he did not," she huffed. "Unbelievable."

A brown paper folder came sliding into their hiding spot. 'Cypur Cromlight' read the block print. His adoption files. The answers to his delayed golden magick. When he reached for it, it pulled away. He jerked his hand back a moment too late. Invisible rope latched onto his wrist, yanking him out of the hiding spot.

"There you are!" the policewoman cheered. "Finally."

"Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong." He struggled against the rope, wishing he knew an undoing spell for this. Wescherlie came to his side. "Run, Wes! They'll—"

"Your magick kills just like him," Eerious sneered and forced Cypur to his feet. The papers slipped out the folder and enlarged as if they were looking at the words through a magnifying glass.

Eerious began to read off the names. "Cypur Cromlight adopted into Cromlight family, I see, but what is this? A surrender certificate?"

Cypur was reading ahead, and his eyes zoned in on a name. He barely registered what Eerious was saying. The child was not Human-born, but Sorcerer-born. The mother died from the golden magick that flowed from the child. Micalius was just like his father, Danisilus rí Charmteller, born with magick that could kill a Sorcerer.

Time seemed to slow. His body went cold. The surrender certificate shrunk and slipped into his hands. From the magick on the paper, he could tell it was authentic, not some illusion or a fake document. His Faud poked his head out and squealed.

"He has a Faud!" the policewoman shouted. "Danger to society."

Golden magick flowed from Cypur's chest, flowing over the paper to his baby picture. The same one on the adoption certificate at home, but this one said, 'Micalius: Age Six Months'.

"It can't be me," He heard himself mutter, "It can't be. I'm not—"

I'm not a Charmteller. He refused to believe it. The cold-hearted killer wasn't him. He would never do a thing like that. And yet, his magick did kill.

"Stop the act, Cromlight," the policewoman said, "You've known the truth all your life."

He snapped his head up. What was she saying? He didn't know. All he knew was that he was adopted. His parents told him he was Human-born. Everyone told him that. Tingles of a spell surrounded him. Eerious had his arms crossed, but he was moving his fingers.

I know about it. I knew I was Charmteller this whole time. I just didn't want to believe it. The thoughts shocked him as they weren't his own.

Gritting his teeth and clenching his fist, Cypur hung onto the truth. The day his mother told him he was an adopted Human-born and how gutted he was. Cypur wasn't a Sorcerer-born? That was the truth. Not this in his head. Sweat glistened on Eerious' forehead under moonlight from the windows in the wall. He was trying to send false thoughts. More illegal magick.

Not me. You won't get me. Not us. He turned to Wescherlie and his heart sank. Doubt clouded her eyes. He reached for her hand, but she stepped away.

"No, Wes. Resist it. It's not true."

"You knew all this time?" Tears welled in her eyes.

"He did," the policewoman spoke, her voice eerily soft, almost kind, "And even now he's lying to you. He's set out to finish what his father started. Kill Korva. Cleanse the world they said."

Cypur whipped his head around to the policewoman, fury making his magick spark. "Don't feed her those lies! It's not true! She's my," He turned to Wescherlie, calming his magick, "my félagi vers—"

A dark something whipped towards him and slapped across his cheek. He stumbled backwards in shock that Wescherlie had hit him. She was sobbing with anger in her eyes.

"You twisted Sorcerer," she hissed and curled her lips in a snarl, "I should have never trusted you! You were just pretending to be nice so that you could do it nicely, I guess," she spat, clenching her hands in fists so tight her knuckles turned white. Purple lightning zipped up and down her arms.

He glared at Eerious for doing this to her. But why would she even let it in? Had she always doubted him?

Wescherlie continued. "I'd been wondering why a Sorcerer would be friendly with a Rauvuren. Aesthetic ethics, right? It's all an act. I knew it. The Charmtellers are born evil."

"Oh starlights, Wescherlie, listen to yourself!" Cypur shouted, anger boiling in his chest. He couldn't stand back any longer. If she couldn't see it, he was going to have to take care of it.

And I promised I would protect her. He bit his lip and addressed his Faud. We did.

Snatching out his dagger, he rushed forward to Eerious. His golden magick whipped out from his chest. Cypur willed it onto the dagger, turning the blade gold. He wouldn't kill anyone, but he had to stop Eerious.

Eerious scowled as he stood before the door to the room, hands outstretched with orange magick licking his fingers. Cypur kicked the hallway floor, using floating momentum to propel himself forward. With a grunt, he lifted the dagger above his head.

Then, something strange happened.

Wescherlie screamed, shooting a ball of purple lightning into his face.

He fell to the floor with a thud, hitting the side of his head. Pain shot through him and subsided. Purple lightning zipped across his body making his muscles spasm.

What happened? Not a single tingle of magick! Wescherlie in front, Eerious in back, who did that? Cypur winced as her magick pinched his skin. Shouts came from below. More police were arriving. Wescherlie stumbled away.

"It wasn't me," he called, and she stopped. Hope filled his chest. "I would never try—"

"He tried to kill you for his trophy, Rauvuren," came the policewoman's voice. "Leave him to us and your freedom is granted."

They're letting her go? Cypur's eyes fell on the surrender certificate. All they wanted to do was to find an excuse to put golden magick in jail. Trial would be quick. They would have his magick extracted. It was never about the two victims or Wescherlie.

"Félagi verskur," he whispered. The promise, the hug, the moment they realized how strong their friendship had become. This was the moment for him to be there for her. What it truly meant.

"She's right," he said in a low voice, "I always wanted to kill you. Like my father killed your mother. Stab your beautiful heart." He cracked a smile.

Her tiny gasp was a dagger, piercing his chest with hurt, but he hid his emotions behind a wall of cold Sorcerer calmness. She threw a ball of purple light at a window and flew away. The police that came didn't pursue her.

Forget me. He sobbed and his magick surged in his chest.

Wescherlie! his Faud cried, springing forward and landing smack on the hard floor. The purple lightning restraints vanished. Golden magick ribboned, swooping down the hall. The first Sorcerers that came to the tenth floor shouted in pain and their bodies disintegrated.

Cypur gaped in horror. Hadn't they talked about this? No more killing?

"Stop, Fau—"

Something clamped around his lungs. Cypur gasped for breath and his magick vanished. He writhed about, scrapping his nails against the floor. Dizziness brought nausea and he heaved. Eerious straddled him, restraining his body while keeping a tight grip on his lungs. His throat burned and his vision blurred. A collar latched around his neck and shrinking his magick into nothingness, leaving him hollow and empty. It wasn't gone, but soon it would be.

"Danger to society. Born to kill," Eerious spat, forcing Cypur to his feet. At last, air flowed into his lungs, and he gasped. Eerious teleported them outside the building where a policeship awaited. Two Sorcerers fell away from the rest on Eerious order. Cypur blindly watched them go.

As the ship lifted, he thought of his parents, his brother, Arius, and Precense. Those who tried to help him clear his name, how disappointed they would be to find that it was true. He was a killer. Destined. Grown to like his golden magick, but how could he now?

Wes, Wescherlie. Who am I to be your friend? Thoughts muddled in his mind as he thought of her and the Junior Bounty Hunters. She wouldn't stand a chance alone, but she couldn't be with him. Charmteller killed her mother and Cypur was his son. And then it seemed like he tried to kill her. She doubted him. And now he wondered if he had done that himself. No magick on his skin, so it had to be his.

Fear chilled him to the bone. Cypur tried to recall the moment it happened, but his mind went blank. He couldn't remember if he did it. Doubt pushed him off a cliff.

* * *

In the Fifth Ring, the jail Ring, Eerious removed his handcuffs and shoved him out into the rain.

"That collar constrains all magick and tracks your movements so, don't try anything," Eerious said, "We will return tomorrow night."

The policeship lifted, leaving Cypur in the muddy clearing. Numbed, he sat, not caring that he would get dirty. Rain turned to sleet. Shivering, he lay on the ground. The Cypur that joked, laughed, and lifted his head in confidence, shattered into a million shards of glass. They all vanished into the dark hole he descended.

But was this right? The thought was a beam of light in his hole. Was he really like his father? Cypur glanced up at the sky as rain pelted down. The moment came back to him clear as day. Subtle, but there. A fraction of a second. 

The policewoman had manipulated his attack.