They were in his house, at the table in the dining room. The only light on in the Auiyer house. Nickolas' s apprentice had come running to him in the middle of the night in in tears and cold sweat.
Luke sat across from Nick at the round table with his hands on his forehead, attempting to tame the chaos in his mind.
He had been walking home from the gym alone, passing a hollow alley. A voice came from behind him. A raspy voice, ridden with hunger and fragility. Luke turned to hear an old crawling home less man struggle to stand up and speak, "Sir, please. Do you have any money? I have no place to stay to-" The man paused, staring directly at Luke. The world fell into a chasm. Lukas stared back at the beggar, recognizing his face. Glacier gray eyes. Edgy cheekbones and jaw. A permanent scowl. it was his father. It was the man who labeled Luke a disappointing waste of time and money, the man struck his face and heart, leaving wounds that would never heal.
Suddenly, he was 11 again. He was cold, hurt, abandoned, and hopeless. The night his father left him echoed in his memories. "M-my son...come here. I have not seen you for eternity and-" The weak man tumbled to tears but his unshaven face remained dry as if he were numb to emotion. "I am sorry, Lukas."
Unconsciously dropping his gym bag, Lukas ran from the alley, fear beating in his chest. His father limped after him, shouting, "No! Please! Stop!" Luke sprinted to his Masters house as if Destruction himself was at his heels.
"Lukas, what are you running from?" Nick asked, as he placed two cups of green tea on the table coasters. "Harm or your past?"
He was returned with heavy breathing and a vulnerable reply "I wouldn't know. I can't tell the difference. What am I supposed to do?" His apprentice was not the stubborn and bold person that he normally was. "If I go back, I'll only return with more scars."
Nickolas sipped the last of his tea and crossed his arms on his wide chest. "Only a fool trips on his past. Now, I'm not insulting you but let's be honest. Everyone is a fool. What if brokenness was a beauty? Something that creates rather than tears down."
Lukas looking from his crumpled position, puzzled. "What do you mean? How can a fallen person return to innocence?"
His master almost chuckled as if he was laughing at his own joke. "Luke, take this cup and throw it on the tiles." Nick leaned over, handing him the empty glass.
"What!? But it will brea-"
Nickolas cut him off. "Do not question me. Now..." He motioned to the cup.
Reluctantly, he released the glass from his palm, feeling pathetic. As soon it touched the cream kitchen floor, it shattered and scattered.
"Did it break?" Nick pushed the chair back and stood up.
" Yes, sir."
"Can you restore it to its normal state ?" Nick's voice was monotone.
"No."
"Watch this." Nickolas stretched his palm downwards at the shards and levitated them with the Zayah. The glass followed his hand as he turned his palm facing up. "Now, hover your hand over these pieces."
Feeling pathetic, Luke lifted his arm, doing as his master instructed. Bronze metallic smoke materialized from the blue Zayah aura, embracing the glass shards the way fog hugged the streets of Alebeth at the dawn of day. Like a magnetic field, the golden smoke bonded the pieces into a cup, filling the permanent cracks with an enchanting aureate glow. Awe filled the silence.
"I surprise myself every time I do it." Mused Nick. "Andrew taught it to me, you know. It's a Japanese art known as
