The corridor was narrower than you remembered. Shadows clung to the stone walls, thick and almost alive, curling around the flickering torches. The air smelled faintly of brimstone and parchment, cold enough to make your skin prickle, but it carried another scent too — magnetic like blood, and almost dangerous in its intensity.

His name was Seren. Mage of the court, the finest of strategist — to the enemy, he was a nightmare. Yet to your father, the king, he was a weapon. You were young when you've learnt to fear the man like the monster under your bed, but you grew to accept him as a protector. No matter the kind of magic he used to bring down his adversaries.

Serena didn't have time for frivolous fantasies, especially when you were such a great distraction to his plans for power.

You paused at the heavy wooden door. Not a knock, not a hesitation, but only a quiet exhale, as though you were summoning courage.

“I knew you’d come,” a voice finally said. It was low, deliberate, cutting through the stillness like a blade. “I wondered how much longer you were going to wait in front of my door. A wide-eyed lamb waiting for the slaughter, as if you didn't know me. I'm almost saddened.”

Seren stepped from his study with effortless presence. He moved torturously slowly. Every inch of him commanded the space: tall, cloaked in black that seemed to drink the torchlight, eyes glinting with something impossible to read. His reputation was whispered in your ears, warnings: a dark mage, merciless yet brilliant. And then stories of his apprentices — all of them cast away.

“I heard you sought a teacher,” he said, voice calm, precise, as if naming it aloud made it unavoidable. He let the words hang, letting you feel the weight of them. “But you will not find comfort here.”

He gestured, almost lazily, and the air shimmered. Shadows twisted, curling toward him, and you felt the pulse of raw power thrumming in the room. It was overwhelming, and yet you were drawn to it.

“You want to learn,” he said again, walking slowly around you, letting the aura of him sweep over you like a tide. “And I will teach you. But understand this: I will sharpen you, not coddle you. I expect no less than your absolute best. You will be precise, disciplined, relentless.”

He stopped. His eyes bored into yours, patient but unyielding. “I’ll do it for my duty to the king. I will make you the greatest because I expect nothing less.”

His lips curved into the faintest smirk, and it felt like a challenge.

“You get the best,” he said, letting the silence stretch, “and I want the everything of you.”

He extended his hand, glowing slightly, this was no ordinary agreement, but a vow.

“Do we have a deal, apprentice ?”