The whistling wind did little to disperse the dust. The winnowing breeze, as always, failed to disturb the ever present remnants of life and decay. It was always there to be called, a subtle reminder, that all things shall return to it in time. Dust.

James closed his apartment window, having banished the mana infused element. He stood in his work suit, agitated. The cold no longer seeped into his bones as it once did, when he first arrived in London. He was a young man then. Demeaned as rash and unruly, a common frontier mage; the young man he once was would be shocked at the man he was now.

No longer was his hair long and unruly, nor did freckles tan his cheeks. Marks of true Summer were noticeably absent, and yet James couldn’t solely blame the British weather for that fact. It had been too long. He had taken too long. A lifetime ago, with all too few memories remaining. But he clung onto those memories all the same, nightmares and all.

He discarded his suit jacket on his bed and checked the remainder of his apartment. The singular hallway that connected the apartment’s rooms was cold. Heating was a superfluous cost at this point. No windows remained open, most of the blinds had never been opened anyway. As if searching for something to put his mind at ease James check the three other rooms of his once-home.

His meagre study was empty. His tomes packed away, his dust stored and his spell book by his side. It was a marvel, a modern mage protecting a material spell book. Yet, the weight of it residing by his side in a custom holster made all the difference to his sanity. A simple quirk, but even his Mentor acknowledged the difference it made to his casting. Traditions and rituals were never wholly useless. He exited the study.

The living room held his bags, brimming with possessions, but overall it to was empty. The furniture had been cleared out that morning. It was done by some friendly non-magical movers, who’d enjoyed some of his earlier work at university; James tipped them well. He scoured the floors for any left over items, but he knew there was nothing there. A quick dispersal of his dust and a mote of circulated mana confirmed that suspicion.

“Where are you Cosmo…?” He muttered.

His hands opened and closed at his side. He was agitated but he didn’t want to face the truth of it right then. He finally moved to the kitchen. It was connected to the living room, but before he passed through the doorway his eyes caught the last thing in the room. A mirror.

As if bewitched he stood still, facing it. He studied how the pallor of his skin appeared so pale in the dim evening light. The lines of wear and tear on his forehead combined with the crows feet in the corner of his eyes; it was the face of someone much older. It was not the face of a tired twenty-eight year old. His shirt was damp with sweat, and his oxfords were scuffed and dusty. There was no sheen or shine visible on his person, for the dust had scoured him whole. Even his eyes appeared tired.

He attempted a smile. His reflection grimaced. With a sigh he moved into the kitchen, placing the kettle on the stove. Setting the water to boil, James leant heavily on the kitchen bench. His breathing was shallow, so he closed his eyes trying to relax and calm his nerves. As he was debating whether he needed to circulate his dust-infused mana a presence entered the space.

James turned, slowly. He was confronted by the cheshire cat grin of a Baku spirit.

“By the Towers! DON’T DO THAT!” James yelled at his companion.

The devious spirit barrel-rolled in the air, laughing directly into James’ mind through telepathy. It would have been an adorable sight had the spirit not scared the life out of him.

“You’re in a good mood, Cosmo. I take it the hunt was successful?” The Baku replied by widening its grin to the point of grotesque. James felt the tension depart his body as he sat down on the cool tiled floor.

Cosmo is here, it’s fine. Lil’pest almost gave me a heart attack, but it appears safe. Just need to sleep tonight and I’m… I’m home. It has been too long.

Cosmo returned to an upright position floating before his friend. The feline face it wore shifted to that of a puppy. A black Labrador with large expressive eyes. Its torso remained panther-like, if not for the longer fur near it head, and its back legs and tail remained nothing but etherial smoke. Applying its new face properly, Cosmo expressed sympathy and warmth with his friend.

“Aww. Now that is cute. It’s alright now Cos, I was just getting scared you got caught.” The Baku had enough pride to look appalled at the notion of being caught. James chuckled, but didn’t doubt that Cosmo was noticed in this Tier 1 city.

“All is well.” James lied. His friend rested on the bench above his head, staying close. While not as prone to nerve as James, it was clear the Baku had adopted a protective mentality.

The kettle began to whistle, so James stood to gather the tea. He took out two mugs and a bowl. He poured the boiling water into each adding Melbourne breakfast tea-packets into the bowl and one mug. There was a light rap at the front door.

“It’s open” James announced, unlocking the door with a brief flare of his enchantment sigil.

Walking through was a tall woman. She wore a large black and white fur mantle over her business attire, with a black handbag by her side. The Autumn winds were cool this time of year, and yet this woman’s presence caused the room to feel frigid. He icy glare almost pinned James to the bench; but he willed himself to turn back towards the empty mug.

“Tea?”

“Earl grey.”

He nodded to the curt reply and fulfilled her order. He moved out of the kitchen leaving Cosmo’s bowl on the bench that separated the living room from the kitchen. He was content to look on, if not back his friend up from behind.

James handed the woman her mug and stood before her. She was tall, much taller than him. Shame the furniture is gone. Would have helped to break the ice, being at eye-level.

She accepted the mug, but made no move to sip it or get comfortable.

“Why?” She inquired.

“Well, I believe Cosmo also-”

“Do not get smart with me, James Scanlan. Why are you leaving?”

James stalled for a moment. Cosmo sent him comforting vibes with telepathy, but that did little to clear his muddled mind. He looked up and made eye contact.

“Because, Madam Ouvrier. There are things I must do, scores that require settling, and here in London I cannot complete either.” She held his gaze. A glimmer of respect appeared to glint in her eyes before vanishing. She was a hard person to read, but James knew her well enough over the years. There was no winning, only escaping the Madam relatively unscathed.

“I have seen you perform, James. I cannot fathom how you found this…” she waved to Cosmo, “beast but it has done wonders with your art. You are no combat mage, nor are you a politician or some Great-House’s scion; there are other ways, darling.” She moved closer. James stood back before she could touch him. “But I see you are set.”

Jame internally sighed with relief, but held fast to any external signs of the same. Madam Ouvrier reached for her hand bag. Her hand plunged into it, far deeper than what appeared possible (a bag of holding?) and emerged with three letters.

“Well then, I will conclude my business with you Master Scanlan.” James winced. Her tone was eerily formal. “This one is for you, to be opened after you have registered with the Tower. Do not open it prior.” She stated handing over the first letter. James nodded.

“This second letter is for the Tower-Master Guldric Uther. Hand this to him personally, understood?” James nodded again, swallowing his nerves. This letter was heavy as he accepted it.

“Finally…” The Madam paused. Her brow furrowed as she looked over her young prodigy. James was unsure in that moment what she was looking for. Was it doubt? Possibly fear?

I’m truly sorry to leave on these terms Madam. I wish I could tell you what an honour it has been, but I must move on.

She turned to his companion, who once again grinned with his feline form. She almost smiled, James thought, but it was too quick a flicker to be certain.

“Finally, this is for your family. Mother, father, sister, brother, this is for them.” The letter was simple and elegant. It held a weight beyond the physical, and James’ eyes glistened at the thought of what it might contain.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“Take care of yourself, Master Scanlan. The nightmares your beast consumes are not the only dark things you will face. I pray for your good fortune. May we meet again, and share our stories; like old times.” Madam Ouvrier said wistfully.

“I pray we do. Be safe Madam, and thank you. For everything.” James said. He guided her out the door. Taking her now frozen cup of earl grey, he brought the mugs back to the kitchen. He left for his bedroom, Cosmo levitating by his side.

“May our futures be of dreams, for I know the nights to be rough.

 Our enemies will know only nightmares, trapped in dreams of dust.”