The One

The truth behind his power

Before then, Feray had been holding Nasr only to the extent of supporting him. Now, she adjusted her hold such that she was hugging him properly—and tightly, too. It was an odd feeling; it felt like a reunion, but at the same time, it wasn't. If the first touch he experiences after becoming free is a hug, that isn't half bad, she thought.

"I thought you died a few times," Feray admitted.

"I did," Nasr confirmed. "Worry not, my apprentice. That is the closest I shall ever come to death."

With that said, he released her, and she tilted her head in curiosity. Certainly, Feray knew what he was referring to, but the anticipation she felt as she waited to see the spectacle for herself was still very strong. Nasr stood, and she followed suit. He lifted his chin and looked skyward at the swirling dark haze all around Feray's animorbis. Then, he raised both arms sideways, to the level of his abdomen, and closed his eyes. Nasr began absorbing the power that was rightfully his, and the process was visible—the dark haze slowly disappeared into him. Feray hugged herself, bracing herself for the gush of his aura that was bound to be more powerful than Izar's—and even Odessa's, if only because it was dark magic that he practiced.

But it didn't come.

Instead, as the last of the power twirled around his finger like a whiff of smoke, what she felt was a distinct yet unarticulated message: his power could destroy the world, but it would not harm her. Despite all that she knew of dark magic—in theory and in practice—she had not expected Nasr's aura to feel that way to her. Surprised, she let go of herself and looked up at him.

"How does that feel?" he wondered out loud, smiling.

"Like a fur coat in the middle of a snowing winter." She returned his smile, genuinely comfortable.

"Good," he said, "Now...hah..." Nasr sighed in pleasure and exasperation both, his arms still held out. Then, he dropped his arms and looked at her. "Remember what you told me."

What I told him? In her mind, Feray searched for what he was referring to, and it didn't take long for her to find it.

"If I am freed, and once again fall into scholarly insanity, would you fight me as well?" Nasr asked. "Know that my own family tried and failed."

"You're my mentor, I can't fight you."

"Then?"

"I'll stop you. Violence isn't the only way."

"Very well. Let us begin for real this time."

"I remember," Feray replied, "But...why are you bringing that up?"

"For I have returned," Nasr announced. He held a hand up, gesturing for her to stay where she was. He himself took a few steps back. "You are the only person who sees me as I am without this power; nevertheless, have a sense of what it really is...for I fear, sometimes, you forget what I am known for."

Nasr unleashed the full force of his power then—only for a moment, but Feray understood immediately why he'd stepped away from her. The aura of the first dark sorcerer, as it turned out, was not only intimidating, but actually caused pain upon encounter. She found herself paralyzed as his invisible aura seemed to strip her of her defenses; it penetrated her entire being in the sense of reading her every strength and weakness. If the aura under Nasr's manipulation was like a fur coat in the cold, its true form was like those cold winds themselves. It made perfect sense; if he weren't the darkest of them all, how could he protect her from the darkness?

As she was still thinking about that, the aura had already faded, once again returning to what Nasr wanted it to feel. The sudden change in the atmosphere caused Feray to stagger. He was already before her, steadying her by the waist.

"Do you understand?" he asked, "I have returned."

Although it seemed only a repetition of what he already said, this time, it felt different. Nasr Palmentere had returned—in his full glory. He now had every means to pursue what he used to before becoming chained. Instead of answering right away, Feray took another moment to study his expression. It was the Nasr she knew alright—he wasn't the old Nasr, whom she would not recognize.

"You seem displeased," she remarked.

"I am displeased with the fact that I feel the temptation of this power," he specified, "And that I will be tested for all of eternity, until I conquer it completely or fall into the depths of it once again."

Feray leaned in to hug him again. "Does your own power scare you? That's not like you," she reminded him, then giggled. "Believe in yourself, as I do."

He chuckled. "Alright."

"By the way, I've never failed to notice what you're known for," she added as she let go of him, now heading to the house in her animorbis—where she stored the herbs he had asked her to gather. "Even when you could do nothing, when we first met, you turned the chair into a throne just by sitting on it. At least, that's what it felt like. Your power is in your person, your soul...not dark magic. Regaining your magical capabilities changes nothing."

That night, the entire school was alerted, but only a few people really knew what was going on. The whole campus shook as if there was an earthquake, but the tremor was not felt beyond the academy grounds. Waylon and Zanna were still awake, their noses stuck in books, when it happened. They looked up at each other simultaneously.

"Did Feray tell you what exactly would happen?" Waylon asked, at the same time expressing with this same question that he did not know.

Zanna shook her head. "I remember the way to that dungeon though. I was with her when we first looked at the map."

"That was...so long ago," he said.

"I'm awesome! Come on, let's go!"

When they arrived, the entrance of the dungeon—the wall, to be precise—had broken. A hole in that wall showed the way into the dungeon itself. Zanna stepped in first, with Waylon following close behind. What greeted them was a broken cage, nothing more.

"Hold on," Waylon said. He then pinched the leaf on his bracelet—the first time he used it. In his mind, he said, Izar, we're at the dungeon. The cage is broken. No one's here.

Izar's response came before he could even release the leaf. Go home. His message was, as expected, to-the-point and short.

"Come on," Waylon then said to Zanna, who'd been looking at him in anticipation.

The ground shook again, and they held each other by the arms to steady themselves. Waylon teleported the both of them to his home.

Izar was waiting by the door as they arrived. The three entered and exchanged a few puzzled glances.

"Nasr is free," Waylon stated, recalling the unmistakably broken cage. "But we're all here. Then..."

"I've checked," Izar said, "Your parents and Mr. Snyder are all sleeping. That means only one thing—and I'm having some trouble processing this, but...Nasr Palmentere has changed."