Four quarterly windows divided Nine Star’s academic year. Within those windows, an enrolled student possessed flexibility in enrolling for their Epo and Suna classes for each of the seven required subjects.

  Raven chose to save Battle and War Tactics Suna for the last quarter, and Van did likewise. While Van still had five Suna classes remaining in order to graduate, Raven had only two, and Valentine just one. Before she left for Lamgard, she communicated with Master Bastille and received approval to start her Religion Suna class late and make up the work.

  After seeing Valentine off in the morning, Raven and Van attended their morning class for Master Forir’s Battle and War study. Forir’s Epo class focused on battle basics. The use of pandora, the use of seals, and the study of military tactics and the differences between the armed forces of each Reyk within the country. Battle and War Tactics Suna expanded on the foundations laid, delving into worldwide politics, Fallowreyk’s external allies and enemies, extended pandora and seal duel tactics and strategies, and more.

  Throughout the learning, Raven couldn’t help but be impressed. He had been certain there was nothing taught at Nine Star that would be new to him, but Forir’s Suna class proved to be the exception. His prowess in advanced battle theory was exceptional, both in substance and form. The bushy-browed professor still disallowed Raven from taking any part in the practical guidance portion of his class that he provided the other students, but it mattered little. Raven obtained some measure of learning during his class, and he was glad for it.

  Unfortunately, the status quo remained the same. Raven still didn’t know what Master Forir’s challenge was, the last unknown. The man possessed an endless supply of caution; no chinks existed in his armor. And his curious cardinal never left the man’s shoulders when Raven was present, staring in such a peculiar manner. While Raven now held an incredible trump card up his sleeve, thanks to his recent trip to Zaliance, he wanted to wait a little longer to use it. He was certain the timing of its use would be critical.

  Raven sat at his desk, as usual, while the rest of the students were busy practicing melee weapon stances at Forir’s command. Van looked especially clunky, and Forir was letting him know it. The bird on his shoulder increased its shrill, seeming to reprimand Van as well. In the midst of the clamor of practicing students, Raven became distracted when one of the wide iron doors opened. A person donning a heavy cloak and hood entered and quietly creeped along the wall. He scurried across the wide-domed room, making his way past the painted portraits of the former masters, and quickly escaped through another wide door, which led to Master Forir’s study.

  Forir, of course, had taken immediate notice of the mysterious visitor and watched him the whole way. His eyebrows furrowed into what Raven could only surmise was an angry glare, if only he could see the man’s full face behind his collar.

  “Students, that shall conclude our day,” he announced. “Continue with your practice at home, for there will be a test on what you learned in the next session.”

  As his students groaned, he immediately made for the office door, entering his study and closing the door behind him.

  “What do you think that was about?” Van asked, huffing and dripping sweat.

  “No idea. I couldn’t see the person’s face,” Raven replied.

  “We’re done a little early, at least.”

  “More time to search for information on the Star Tome and the Shrale family.”

  “You really have a one-track mind. Can’t we get lunch at the cafeteria first?”

  “Very well. But let’s take it to my room. I can work on something else while we take a break.”

  A slam interrupted their conversation. The door to Forir’s study flew open and Master Forir emerged, holding Marcus Shrale by the scruff of his robes. He dragged the man out forcefully.

  Raven smiled. Marcus! The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “Please, Selim!” Marcus blubbered, grasping the teacher’s clothes desperately. “You must give it back to me! It’s mine! I am the true heir! You know this! You know it’s mine.”

  “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Forir answered angrily, pushing him away. “It was never yours, and it never will be.” His cardinal flew circles around Marcus’s head, chirping angrily.

  “PLEASE!” Marcus cried, grabbing him again and sinking to his knees. “I’m the heir! It’s my birthright!”

  “Enough! Leave my tower, or I’ll throw you out, Marcus.”

  He looked up to realize Raven and Van stood nearby. Van’s mouth hung agape with wild amusement at their exchange.

  Forir cleared his throat and pushed Marcus away again. “Good day.” He and his bird returned to his study and slammed the door shut, causing one of the paintings of the former masters to drop off its golden hook.

  “Back in town, eh Marcus?” Van called out. In the huge domed room, now devoid of students, his voice blared.

  Shrale sniffled and stood back up. “What are you doing here?” he snarled. His pandora eye looked around wildly. He was as rattled as a mouse in a cage.

  “Looking for you actually,” Raven said, approaching.

  “Me?” he rasped, wiping his tears away. “Why? So, you can steal from me again?”

  Raven tilted his head in confusion.

  “Don’t deny it!” he shouted. “I know you’re in league with Fanny! I know you have my precious heirlooms!”

  “We didn’t make you gamble them away.”

  “Shut up!” New tears sprang to his eyes. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know what I did?”

  “We’re only borrowing them from Fanny because we have a supreme appreciation for Valius Shrale’s wonderous deeds,” Raven lied. “In fact, we want to talk with you more about him. About his amazing life. We were even hoping you could help us document everything you know about him and his family in order to write a biography.”

  “YOU LIAR!” he nearly screamed. “You’re all in on it! To keep me from what is mine! I am the true heir! ME!”

  Raven was puzzled why he kept up this claim of being his true heir. Now knowing Valius had many children and grandchildren, this seemed outlandish. But before he could say anything else, Marcus pointed at him and began backing away.

  “Listen to me, you little brat! I will never talk to you again! Ever! Not until you give me back my treasures.” He descended into wailing madness again and fled from the tower.

  “That man is a loon,” Van commented after watching him go.

  Raven tsked. “He’s certainly more unstable than ever. I don’t think I’d be able to get anything out him, even if I forced it.”

  “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”

  The duo braved a particularly blustery snowless blizzard to make the cafeteria detour. Van packaged up a chicken sandwich and some roasted potatoes. Raven cut a large wedge of strawberry cake and pocketed a bag of assorted cookies. They then hurried back to Raven’s room in Panka’s Tower. Raven used Glass Blower to warm the wide space, and they settled in.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  After poring over records obtained from the Pandora Society all night, Raven didn’t think he would garner anything new from them. It seemed evident that in order to discover a clue on the whereabouts of the Star Tome, they would need to seek out actual living descendants of Valius Shrale. Since Marcus wouldn’t provide any help, it was educated guesswork where to start. Even so, Raven pondered over the man’s continued claim to be Valius’ “true heir” and didn’t want to discount any possible evidence. He would start with Marcus’s immediate line to Valius.

  But that could wait until the morning. In the meantime, Raven returned to the obstacle of the challenges from the masters under the Vark Ilias. Mere weeks now separated Raven from his required confrontation. He rearranged the seven sheets on his pushpin board, aligning them with all the information he had previously gained. He sat in his chair and ate his lunch while studying the board, searching for something previously unrealized in order to discover the last challenge. Master Forir’s sheet of paper still hung blank on the board.

  A scratching noise distracted him, and he turned to find Van pecking at the coffin propped up against the wall.

  “Please don’t do that.”

  “Can’t you finally tell me what’s inside? I’m dying to know.”

  “Some things are better left unspoken.”

  “Is it the scarecrow? I still remember that weird scarecrow with the giant purple flower on its chest. Did you put it inside here?” Van put his ear to the coffin door. “You can tell me. I can keep a secret. Are you making something?”

  “You’ll need to trust me when I say there’s nothing in the container pertaining to anything we are doing. And there is no way to open it or get inside, which I would bet…” Raven leered at him. “…you have already attempted with your special spying pandora.”

  Van smiled sheepishly. He abandoned his attempt to open the coffin and rolled onto Raven’s bed with a short leap, kicking his feet up and attacking his sandwich. Raven returned to his meditation of his board, but of course, Van couldn’t stay quiet for long.

  “So, explain something to me,” he said between bites. “Now that we’re almost a year into our little caper, I’m a little confused. When you first challenged the masters, and then made it your mission to discover each of the challenges ahead of time… I didn’t really bother to ask why we were doing it. But now…”

  “But now?” Raven repeated when Van paused.

  “Well… why do you care? What do the actual challenges have to do with anything? There’s no connection to killing the Titan that is apparent to me.”

  “Ah.” Raven looked up at his board. He breathed deeply as vivid memories came flooding back.

  “I barely remember my parents,” he finally said. “My earliest memories are from the orphanage in Surlance, which I called home. It was a drab, rundown building deep in the south slums of the city, but the other children and I were well cared for. The orphanage was overseen by an incredible man. Ralféo Tunick. He was a mentor and very much like a father to me. I loved him. Very few people have had an impact on my life that comes close to his influence.

  “Ralféo loved other people like no one else I’ve ever met. Besides full-time work at the orphanage, he pastored and counseled the church and city leaders, and served in the community at large. He sacrificed his whole being in devotion to the Holy One and the common man. And he was something of a celebrity in Surlance, somebody to aspire to.

  “Now, in Surlance there are certain local traditions. One of those is called ‘the Five Candles.’ Have you heard of that?”

  Van shook his head.

  “It’s a series of immense achievements recognized by the city. Accomplishing just one of the ‘candles’ as they are called, wins you a medal of pure gold, which is an incredible award in a city as poor as Surlance. But to get all five candles is considered nearly impossible, costing a lifetime of dedication. No one had ever done it. And it was Ralféo’s greatest personal desire.”

  “What are they?” Van asked.

  “The first candle is to save the city from a great disaster. The second is to create or invent something that transforms the city forever. The third is to dedicate five thousand full days in service to the church. The fourth is to climb to the summit of Mount Chappelle and hang a lantern on the Darish Hook, and then oversee the continuous burning of the flame for five days and five nights. Finally, the fifth candle is earned by making twenty separate pilgrimages alone to the Deep Pool in Reyk Provote.”

  “Woah. Those sound impossible.”

  “When I first came to know Ralféo, he had already earned four of the candles.”

  Van’s eyes bugged, and he sat up in the bed. “Four?”

  Raven nodded. “It was said when he received his first candle, the whole city celebrated, for a singular candle was rarely granted. He had discovered a monstrous design failure in the Pellymine Dam and fixed it just in time, preventing the complete destruction of half of the city. Many years later, he gained a second candle, and again the city celebrated his achievement. But when he gained his third, he became a city-wide hero. No one had received three candles in several generations. A decade later, the church recognized his five thousandth day of dedication in service to the Holy One. The celebration Reyk Surlance held for Ralféo that week is something of legend. People in the city still talk about it, and there was an abnormally large number of babies born nine months later.”

  Raven smiled as Van laughed. “Those children are now referred to as the ‘Ralphie Generation.’ I wish I could have seen the festival held in his honor. Ralféo could do no wrong.”

  “So, did Ralféo get his fifth candle?” Van asked, riveted by the story.

  “Officially? Yes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I was something of an informal apprentice to Ralféo when he was nearing the accomplishment of his final candle. I was just a child, of course, but he recognized my skill and my eagerness to learn from him. He’d made nineteen pilgrimages to Provote in his lifetime, and he had his twentieth all planned out. He was quite advanced in years by this time, but still plenty strong.

  “He departed in the spring of my eleventh year. The journey normally takes about a month. While he was gone, the city of Surlance prepared for a celebration unheard of in Fallowreyk. All the people collectively joined as one for a movement to commemorate this man they adored. And on the day of Ralféo’s anticipated return, the city was temporarily transformed, adorned with banners and all sorts of anticipated merriment. It was like the welcoming of a great king. And half the city waited by the city gates, watching for him on the horizon. When he finally appeared, the cheer was so deafening, it was hard to hear anything else.”

  Raven’s face slowly transformed from pride to grief. “That was when the Titan appeared.”

  Van’s expression plummeted. “He killed him?”

  He nodded. “He never even reached the city gate.”

  “Oh.”

  Raven paused to calm his heart, folding his hands together. He took a deep breath.

  “The Titan is obsessed with a concept he calls the Glorious Pinnacle,” he finally said. “He believes so strongly that an extraordinary person’s soul enhances with age and accomplishment. And that a Class Ten soul can only be discovered when killing someone at the pinnacle of his life, as the class of his soul is ‘earned.’ He is always searching. Testing when to kill people. Different ages, different accomplishments. Looking for the next Class Ten pandora to add to his crown. Watching special people in Fallowreyk and waiting for that time to come.”

  “So that’s why he came for Barkley that day.”

  “Yes. The Titan didn’t come for Ralféo after his first candle. Or his second or third or fourth. He waited. He waited until my mentor reached his greatest achievement, and then he struck him down in cold blood for the whole of Surlance to see. And while he didn’t get the Class Ten he wanted, the Titan still gained something purposeful that day. He always does.”

  “What did he gain?”

  “Renewed fear.”

  Van fell silent, looking down at his lap.

  “My challenges to the masters hold one purpose,” Raven concluded. “To lure the Titan to Roespeye. To draw his gaze and keep it fixed on me. And I can tell you from experience: he won’t appear if I lose even one challenge. To Master Forir, or Smith, or any of them. I must win them all. The Titan is careful and cunning, constantly suspicious of a trap, but unable to resist the greatest of chances to gain what he lusts for the most. My task is impossible; thus, to accomplish it indicates to him my soul is exceptional.”

  “I get it now,” Van said nodding. “I suppose maybe I always knew this about him, but never stopped to ponder it. We live in a world where we accept the reality of his periodic evil. Content to believe the ruler won’t come for you… as long as you keep your head down.” He shook his head. “So, what happened after Ralféo was murdered?”

  “I made the foolish decision to attack.”

  Van’s jaw dropped. “You attacked the Titan?”

  “I did. I was a child who just watched the brutal murder of the only person I’d ever loved. I acted rashly, and… the Titan made me pay for it. I still remember that day so vividly. As others fled all around me, I rushed at him in blind rage with a small dagger. No plan. No scheme. Just rage.”

  Raven held up his arm with his hand out. “He grabbed me by the neck. His… stench was unforgettable. Through tears, I could barely make out his vile grin as he held me and squeezed. But before I could pass out, he dropped me and then slammed my face into the dirt. I was looking directly into Ralféo’s soulless eyes. The Titan took my knife, laughing. He must have known somehow that I didn’t have a pool, because he used it to carve the symbol of the Rogue into my scalp. I still remember how much I screamed. The pain was… extraordinary.”

  Van stood and walked behind Raven, so that he could not see his face. Raven let him find his composure.

  “He disappeared immediately, leaving me where I laid,” Raven concluded his story. “Never said a word. I… had nowhere else to go after that. I couldn’t bear to return to Surlance. So, I left. I made for Zaliance, where I stayed for some time. But that’s a story for a different day.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Van replied, standing by the window. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. Vengeance is now my cause. The next time I face the Thief of Life, I will be prepared.”

  At that moment, a snow crow appeared on the ledge of the window beside Van and cawed. Its beak held a small slip of paper. Van wiped his eyes and took the paper. The bird flew off, and Van read the note. A sort of resolution came over him as he did so.

  He looked up at Raven. “You’re rich, right? Like… super rich?”

  “I guess you could say that. Why?”

  “There’s something I need to show you. Something I’ve never showed anyone.”