Chapter 89 Casillas’s Pursuit of Power

While the world above waited for the situation to unfold further, in the Himalayas—at the dwelling of the Ancient One, the very heart of Kamar-Taj and its most revered sanctuary—mages were engaged in their morning practice. Cries of “huh” and “hah” rang out in succession, just as they always did. Yet, if one looked closely at the practitioners’ expressions or sensed their moods, it would be easy to detect a subtle unease beneath the surface.

This was especially true for Morey, who had recently led a group from the New York Sanctum to this place. He kept his head bowed, lost in thought. Although Morey had never been on particularly good terms with many of the mages from the New York Sanctum—some relationships were even openly hostile—they were all Kamar-Taj sorcerers, after all. The fall of the New York Sanctum had shaken him more than he cared to admit. What troubled him most, however, was the Ancient One’s complete absence since the beginning of the crisis. Had she truly become indifferent to the fate of her own sanctum’s guardians?

“Morey! Focus your attention! Don’t dwell on things you cannot change!” The mage leading the morning practice noticed Morey’s distraction and walked over, demonstrating the exercise as he spoke loudly.

Morey’s mind was in such disarray that he couldn’t even manage the simplest energy control. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and forced himself to settle his emotions. He was practiced at this; back at the New York Sanctum, it was this very ability to quickly adjust his mood that had kept him from lashing out at others.

When morning practice ended, Morey wiped his face and sought out the most learned mage at the monastery after the Ancient One herself—the librarian, Wong.

After pouring out his troubles, Wong set aside his book and regarded the newly arrived mage with a touch of sympathy. Truthfully, anyone who stayed long enough at the monastery would eventually come to see the answer for themselves, for the Ancient One never concealed her priorities. It was not that she cared little for the sanctum’s guardians—she cared little for any individual mage. What truly mattered to her was keeping the dimensional demons at bay and safeguarding Earth itself.

Indeed, if disbanding every sorcerous order truly guaranteed Earth’s eternal safety, the Ancient One would not hesitate to give the command. But that, of course, was impossible; force remained a necessary tool for preserving peace.

“I can’t answer that for you,” Wong said after a moment’s thought. “If you truly want to know, why not ask the Ancient One herself? She’s quite willing to answer questions when she’s not in seclusion.”

“But I haven’t seen her at all since I arrived,” Morey replied anxiously. “Can you tell me where she’s gone?”

“Of course,” Wong replied, rising and searching through a nearby chest. “She’s gone to confer with Mage Kieran at the Clock Tower about the current crisis, which is why you haven’t seen her around.”

“When will she return?” Morey’s expression was urgent; these questions had plagued him for days, and he desperately wanted answers.

“How should I know? I’m not a mage of the Clock Tower,” Wong said, shaking his head. He produced a small, flame-shaped badge from the chest. “You’d do better to ask Mage Blaze—he’s on the western side of the monastery. This is your pass.”

Morey accepted the pass, frowning slightly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Wong was simply passing the problem along. Still, the logic was sound, and he’d been given the pass—there seemed no other option.

Blaze, the mage sent from the Clock Tower to study at Kamar-Taj, was hardly a model student. It wasn’t that he felt slighted or anything; regaining even a modicum of freedom after being under supervision was enough to please him. Yet, after spending some time here, Blaze found himself at a loss for what to learn. The Ancient One’s methods for handling dimensional invasions were beyond his reach, and he disliked the spells and surveillance techniques favored by the other mages. Borrowing power from others always came with a price, and he had no wish to be crushed by the weight of accumulated debts.

Gradually, Blaze began to withdraw from communal practice, holing up in the small courtyard the Ancient One had provided and devoting himself to his own research. When he realized that Mage Kieran had set up no real system of evaluation or oversight, his confidence grew, and he transformed the little courtyard into a miniature mage tower, with a tiny elemental pool installed right in his room.

To protect the pool from accidental or deliberate harm, Blaze set up defensive wards. Of course, this was not his own domain, so he left the authority to issue passes in the hands of the Ancient One. She had made only a single pass, which she entrusted to Wong.

Inside his room, Blaze was busy adjusting the elemental pool’s absorption and conversion rates. Like a nuclear reactor, it required regular inspection and maintenance. In a proper mage tower, such tasks would fall to the tower spirit, but in his current situation, Blaze had to do it all himself.

Suddenly, Blaze turned toward the courtyard wall—the monitoring and defense network had been triggered and had identified the intruder: Kaecilius.

What is he doing here? And why isn’t he using the main entrance or carrying a pass?

Blaze sensed something was amiss, but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. The “parent” of this place—the Ancient One—was still alive, after all. If anything happened, she would handle it. He only needed to report the situation, not act as if he were the last authority left on Earth.

Kaecilius, caught in the magical web, dared not move a muscle. A mass of blazing flame hovered before his face, resembling a miniature version of the Eternal Sun Blaze had once displayed in a demonstration. At such close range, if it detonated, not even his ashes would remain.

With a swish, Blaze appeared before Kaecilius, whose eyes lit up; he had come seeking Blaze’s tutelage. The spells Blaze had demonstrated were powerful and visually spectacular, exactly the sort of strength Kaecilius craved. Yet, in the days since the Ancient One’s absence, Blaze—true to form—had remained secluded in his courtyard, making himself all but impossible to find.

Before Kaecilius could speak, Blaze waved his right hand, and the web of magical lines in the courtyard twisted into a hand that promptly tossed Kaecilius out.

Well, I handled it myself rather than letting the automated wards deal with him—that’s at least a show of respect for the Ancient One, Blaze thought, before flashing back into his room to resume his research.

Kaecilius, though unscathed, was left humiliated—after all, he was an elite sorcerer of Kamar-Taj—especially since Blaze hadn’t even given him a chance to speak. With that, Kaecilius finally abandoned any hope of learning sorcery through proper channels.