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For the hundredth time that evening, David's mind wandered to Ferremor, Alex, and the orphanage he'd left behind. He wasn't second-guessing his decision to pledge himself to the Shadow King in the Fourth Realm, but he did miss his friends dearly from time to time. He had settled into his new life at the University of Fifteen Points, but he still refused to visit the orphanage until his studies were complete. He was determined to repay the king's generous sponsorship with nothing less than his absolute best effort, which would suffer greatly with sweet Alex as a distraction. It also wasn't wise to come and go from the carefully hidden university, lest the dark lord discover it had never been fully destroyed.
David looked back down at the scroll he'd been trying to memorize for the past two hours, and frowned at the crude illustrations of the herbs he would be identifying the following week. "This isn't working," he mumbled, rolling the scroll and drawing on his first-year robes. Studying the actual herbs would entertain him more and keep his homesickness at bay. He grabbed the lantern by the door on his way out, though he didn't bother to light it yet. As a shadow-master, he could see the shape of everything in the pitch black, but he would need the lantern to read the scroll.
The university greenhouse magically maintained the ideal climate year round for each section of plants. It was an ingenious and low-energy design that never failed to impress David. He quickly found the specimens he was studying and took the time to examine the leaves, leaf groupings, stems, root patterns, wood, and coloring of each. He was determined to pass the test with the highest possible marks, as usual. It didn't bother him that the other students were away, celebrating a polytheistic holiday from the southern continent. Times like these left him alone for days at a time to advance his lead on his peers. He was sections ahead in his basic herb working coursework, so this test was essentially a review, but he didn't want to relax his efforts and let a minute detail cost him a perfect score. He was not too arrogant to be thorough.
"I'd ask why you are wandering the greenhouses this close to dawn, but I know better," an elderly voice sounded from the entrance fifteen feet away from where David crouched.
David had noticed Professor Foraz in the greenhouse when he felt the change in the air and shadows around him, so he wasn't startled. He hadn't greeted the old shadow master because he was giving the professor privacy if it was wanted. Now that he'd been addressed, David rose and bowed. "Good morning, Master Foraz."
The old shadow master smiled, the gesture barely noticeable beneath the heavy blanket of wrinkles on his face. Foraz was the oldest person David knew, and the professor often bragged about outliving five Shadow Kings in his three hundred years. David always wondered how it was that Foraz was a professor of shadow magic at one of the most elite schools of spellcraft on the planet when many of the first-years were more powerful than him. "I hear you are the most skilled first-year Professor Perrasol's ever had," the elderly instructor mused.
"Herbology and herb working have always been a passion of mine," David explained.
"You enjoy healing the sick, then?" Foraz bent to smell a night-blooming flower David had been examining a moment before.
"So many are dedicated to killing and destroying," David quietly replied, his eyes drifting over the verdant life surrounding them. "I always thought that even one person dedicated to preserving life could make a difference."
"Hm. But you no longer believe that." David frowned at the professor's quiet observation, but didn't dispute it. "You are a good man, David. Smart, powerful, kind, and often far too modest," the professor continued, facing the first year with a congenial smile. "Whatever has convinced you that mistakes can't be corrected and old wounds can't be healed . . . It should be held to the same scrutiny that you've given those herbs there."
David looked up to Foraz, his voice guarded but appropriately formal. "I don't understand what has warranted this discussion, Professor." David didn’t speak of his past with anyone, especially the professors. He kept to his studies and to himself, yet Foraz had taken a keen interest in David and often sought him out for personal discussions.
The sagely shadow master nodded. "You are one of the most powerful students I've ever taught," he replied. "This means that even if you spend the rest of your days in the Fourth Realm, protected by the palace, you cannot expect to live more than seventy or eighty years in these realms. Life is too short for the bitterness I've witnessed in your young soul. You should heal your heart, David. Look for that cure, above all others."
David rolled the scroll he'd been studying. "What do you mean," he asked. "I won't live to be a century? Does the dark lord target powerful shadow masters even in the Fourth Realm?" The hair rose on the back of his neck at the professor's disturbing words. The average lifespan of a shadow master was between two and three centuries, similar to other magic-born species like elvens, fae, and calbren.
"Oh, I see," the professor murmured, his gaze fixing on David's bemused frown. "You don't understand your own heritage."
"Understand what, Professor?" The ambiguous nature of Foraz's comments concerned David. The professor was usually very straightforward and could be quite eloquent. "What about my heritage?" It was unlike the old shadow master to skirt a subject.
"If allowed to live a full life, very powerful shadow masters do not die . . . they fade," Foraz replied, returning to his candid nature. "They are consumed by their own magic and become one with the shadows." David stared, eyes wide in dismay at the haunting news. "The closer you are to the shadows, the more powerful you are, the more urgently they call you to them."
"What?" David gasped, stepping back. "That can't be true!"
"It is nothing to fear, young man," the professor assured him. "It is an honor to be chosen by the shadows. An honor I would gladly accept in exchange for my vast years."
David shook his head, horrified at the idea. An honor to be consumed by your own magic? "What of Ferremor?" David asked, urgently. "At Nelan's orphanage? I'm certain he doesn't know this!"
The Professor rubbed his chin for a long moment, his expression disturbingly calm in the face of David's concern. "Ah! You're speaking of the half-demon."
In his distress, David had forgotten that he hadn't mentioned Ferremor to anyone in his new life. Yet, somehow, the shadow master professor had heard of him.
"I believe half-bloods are never truly one with the shadows, so they are never drawn in," Foraz answered, though he sounded as though he were apologizing.
"I don't know about that, Professor." David was relieved that his friend might be spared what fate seemed to be awaiting the greatest shadow masters. If there was even the slightest chance that Foraz was wrong, though, David had to warn him. "Ferremor is very strong. I've never known anyone I would consider to be more at one with the shadows than him."
"Yes," Foraz agreed, though he shook his head. "But does his magic feel different from yours? From mine and the other students?"
David lifted his chin slightly. His first reaction was to defend Ferremor, to deny the evidence Foraz was providing that Ferremor's demon blood made him an impure spellcrafter . . . but what the old shadow master was alluding to was correct. Ferremor's magic did feel different. Having sampled the energies of over a hundred shadow masters including his classmates, David had already recognized that Ferremor was in a class all his own. "Um, yes," he eventually confessed. "I believe so."
Foraz nodded at the answer he'd been expecting. "How is it different?"
David frowned. "It feels, I don't know, darker." He shook his head at the poor description. "It's as if the shadows he manipulates aren't from this world . . . as if they were pulled from a world that has never seen the sun." David glared at the ground, certain that he wasn't explaining himself very well. Though he was being honest, he was certain he was casting a poor light on Ferremor that was undeserved. "He can do things with the shadows that even the later year books don't begin to approach."
"Really?" Foraz raised a curious brow. "Such as?"
David hesitated. He wasn't sure how much of Ferremor's abilities he should reveal, but he was fairly certain he could trust the old professor. Any insight Foraz could give into Ferremor's abilities and possible lineage could prove useful. "Well, I've seen him open portals to move objects from one place to another without having the entrance or exit in a natural shadow. I've seen him shape shadows and apply colors to them, creating illusions so powerful that others have mistaken them for physical objects. I've seen him cloak himself in shadows to ward off the sun or the heat of an open flame." David stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing the professor had been staring at him oddly for several moments. "What is it?"
"These spells that you have described to me cannot be done with shadows alone."
"Then how—"
"His demonic and shadow magic must have intertwined naturally."
David shook his head, quick to defend his friend. "There is nothing evil about Ferremor or his magic," he declared, taking on a stern and somewhat disrespectful tone toward the older shadow master. "He is a gentle soul who only seeks to protect those around him."
Foraz frowned. "You have much to learn of the many facets of magic, young David. I suggest that you take courses in the study and history of demonic magic before you share your biased and uneducated opinions."
David gaped at the Professor's harsh judgment. "I am only telling you what I've seen with my own eyes, professor," he stated. "Ferremor is not evil. Nothing about him is."
"You misunderstand me." Foraz sighed. "I was not suggesting that Ferremor is of any nature, not having personally met the boy. I was referring to your negative view of demonic magic."
David paused. "But—"
"Though it is often used for dark and selfish purposes, demonic magic is rooted in pure chaos," Foraz explained, adopting the tone he used in class. "This is mistaken for evil because it is the opposite of peace, order, and progress. Just as a good man can do evil, an evil creature can do good. This is why the One God gave us the gifts of reason, so that we might understand the fundamental nature of right and wrong, good and evil, and order and chaos." He nodded to himself. "To understand one truth: freewill."
David looked down and flushed with embarrassment. It was he who had been quick to judge, and he'd spoken inappropriately to a highly respected professor of the university. "Forgive me for doubting your intentions and for speaking disrespectfully, Professor."
Foraz smiled, not offended in the least. "You should take those classes, David, in order to better understand your friend and to help him. Understanding the nature of a thing helps eliminate fear of it." Foraz met the first year's gaze, imparting his advice with friendly insistence. "Ferremor is his own man, and if he doesn't understand the unfailing truth of freewill . . . then you, as his friend, should help him."
David nodded in agreement, feeling ashamed at Foraz's accurate description of his discrimination. David had always seen Ferremor's demonic heritage as inherently evil, and Ferremor as a good man in spite of it. If what Foraz said was true, then no part of Ferremor was ever evil. He wouldn't be Ferremor without the demonic blood. David frowned deeper, deciding that he would make his friend understand the same truth. After his schooling, when he returned to the orphanage to check on Ferremor, Alex, and the kids, he would talk to his friend. This time, when he told Ferremor that there was no evil in him, David would believe it with all of his heart.