Page 117 of The Alchemists

“I don’t want everything handed to me. Cantrèa is…”

“Too easy? Too enjoyable?”

“Yes. I have so much privilege, I just…I need to earn my life. As much of it as I can.”

Chant pursed his lips, working on what he wanted to say.

“You know you’re going to have privilege, massive amounts of it, no matter what you do, Sebastian—whether it comes easily, or enjoyably, or not. Privilege got you access to excellent training, it’s true. But you—your work and dedication—are what made you the player you are today.”

Seb bristled. “I thought you had something to help me with Lily’s curse. I didn’t realize you just wanted to tell me to play Cantrèa forever.”

“I’m sorry.” Chant looked it as he held up a hand. “That wasn’t my intention. I fully support your Ætheric studies; I only wanted to make sure you’re choosing that path for the right reasons.” He paused, his mouth open to say the next thing, then decided against it.

“What?”

“I feel I should tell you…the Ætheric studies program, teaching—that was never my aim when I was your age.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Not remotely. I wanted to be a Portalist, but turns out I didn’t have the constitution for it. I thought I would start the Ætheric program while I figured out my next move.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information; it shook up all the puzzle pieces inside of him. Mechanically, he accepted the book Chant offered.

“What is this?”

The thin hardcover was very old, maybe early 1900s, stamped in swirling colors. The title was in French, deeply stylized and illegible.

“It’s a fairy tale. Supposedly. I think it’s the closest one can come to an instructional pamphlet.”

“Where’d you find this?”

“I’ve had it.” He took Seb’s glare in stride. “I couldn’t give it to you before. It would have driven you mad. Without the identity of the caster, everything else is useless.”

Seb opened the book.

There was once a young maiden, good and fair, born the daughter of a king. Her father’s kingdom was well protected and fertile, and his keep sat on an isle in the middle of a glittering lake.

The king’s bounty was endless—air full of Æther, a beautiful heir, loyal and powerful Magicians—and above all, peace. For generations, the kingdom had known nothing of the blight of war that turned the rivers of other lands black with blood, that bloated fields with corpses and fouled the harvest.

For all the wonders laid at his feet, he was greedy for more—he sent mercenaries to neighboring lands, and in retaliation, the queen beyond the mountains sent her best and most agile assassin to end the problem.

The assassin stole into the kingdom under cover of night and rowed a black boat across the lake so skillfully that he left not even a single ripple in his wake. With enchanted gloves and enchanted boots, he climbed the keep’s highest tower, where he was told he should find the king. However, when he bent over the bed, dagger in hand, he found not a king, but a maiden. Before he could recover from his shock, she opened her eyes. Immediately, he was bewitched by her lively and intelligent gaze.

“You seek to kill my father,” she said simply.

The assassin, a skilled liar, found he could not do so in her presence, so he told her the truth. She nodded in understanding.

“My father has become deeply paranoid. These were his chambers, but now he sleeps deep in the heart of the castle, and only I know the way there.”

The young assassin’s stomach turned at the knowledge that a father would leave his daughter as a sacrifice in his stead.

“I cannot pretend to believe my father’s reign is just, but I also cannot give him up, so I shall offer you two options.

“The first option, of course, is that you may kill me—though I plan to fight you tooth and nail—and try your luck finding my father in the labyrinth he has built. Though I should tell you, many others have tried and failed, though those many others did not enter through my bedroom window.”

Her eyes danced cunningly in the moonlight. The assassin held his breath, hanging on her every word.

“What is the second option?”