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THE WIZARD had taken them to a balcony overlooking the city. In his office he left papers transferring his ownership of the school over to Mandon along with a letter heavily insisting Mandon take Nira on as his assistant, should she desire the post.

Mandon would think the declaration one final jest from the Wizard, but in truth, Kellog could think of none better to take over than Mandon. He kept the storage rooms stocked and replaced the melted beakers in the potioneering labs. He oversaw the Acadium's finances, and plugged the roof leaks and redid the cracks in the floor. He cherished the school as much as the Wizard had, and he knew he could leave it in no finer hands.

"Triad at night, I wished to see it one last time." The Wizard exhaled as he drank in the sight. The dome of the castle reflected the first stars, slightly smaller than the ones to come when the night grew darker, but equally as beautiful. Delicate white and yellow constantly burning with the souls of the deceased.

Lanterns illuminated every street corner, dousing sidewalks in flickering gold. Splashes and laughter rose to his ears as disobedient students broke the school's curfew to take a dip in the lake. The mountains stood sentinel in the shadow. Only when sun fell, did the dragon's teeth look the closest to devouring the sky.

Wisps of clouds drifted lazily overhead. The tang of citrus filled the air, along with the sourness of ale, spilled and regurgitated in back alleyways, and beside tavern doors.

All this, humans had created, and with so little magick. Sure the oil was enhanced to burn and not diminish, and the lake's water was warmed with magickally-enhanced stone, but the stone needed to raise every building, the lumber, all was brought into being because humans dreamed.

So far from magick, Exul was a realm without song. Empty and hollow, and heartbreakingly quiet. But he realized then, how wrong he'd been. The song was everywhere - a chirp, a hum, a bark of laughter, a rowdy dispute, a passionate kiss, a stroke of piano keys played in memorium, a lullaby, muttered prayers for better days.

Exul was a realm that needn't have magick to live.

He turned back to his companions, whose lips had remained rather tight, despite the Wizard's efforts to loosen them up. Seemed the shock of his revelation still left them reeling.

"I know it's not enough, but I find myself without proper words in this moment, so thank you. And know that I mean it." He took another inhale. "I'm off to meet my sis–"

"By all the whiskers!" Margo stormed forward and leaned over the railing. She pointed at the west mountain peaks. "Look at them all!"

The Wizard turned. Sebbi, Lucy and Abby rushed forward, crowding around their Cloudian companion. In the distance, a cloud of gold flew toward them.

"A star shower?" Abby asked, her voice noticeably quieter than it usually was.

The Wizard smiled. "No, my dear. Not stars. Goldenflies."

Her eyes grew wide. "So many?"

He chuckled. "I would not think him capable of remembering, yet he has. I once again find myself in awe of this realm."

Abby and Margo exchanged glances.

"You recall Leshy, from your mother's memories?"

She nodded. "Bugbrain."

A laugh so boisterous, the Wizard's stomach jiggled broke from his mouth. "Yes, yes. He was a wood sprite, tricky and loud and loyal above all else. And Simon, you remember him?"

"A Ver..Verdant?"

"Verdan. The Treefolk, possessors of the Green. Skilled mages and artisans. Wise, for their roots spread far and deep. They go through seasons. In spring, their youth, they are no more seedlings with dreams of great adventures and wild magicks, saplings unencumbered by expectation. Their summer is a time of great learning, most often marked by a journey to another branch of the Great Tree. By Autumn, they are as strong as they will ever be, wise and practiced in the ways of the Green. Then when their Winter arrives, as it does for all creatures, large and small, they return home and root. They go dormant, never to walk or wake again, but always dreaming. From their shadows, new seeds emerge and the cycle continues.

"I returned once to Exul, to check up on those who saved me. Upon a hill, I found them - Leshy, a graying wrinkling thing. Your mother, her Aureate Veinings all but gone from her skin. And Simon, his branches barren. His winter had arrived. He wished to see the stars one last time, but the sky was thick with clouds, and I was still recovering and my tether to magick weak. Leshy zipped in front of him, and hovering before our eyes, his heartstone started pulsing gold. He turned himself into a star, and he stayed that way, until the sky darkened, and he glowed even brighter then. He made himself a star, so his friend could see one at his end. Simon was able to root, and close his eyes and drift off into an eternal winter with a smile because of it."

The Wizard returned his gaze to the sky, the swarm of goldenflies having settled over the city. Thousands of them glittered, and it was like the stars had come to visit. Abby always thought them impossible - no matter how high she reached, or how much magick anyone possessed, they always remained so far away. So out of touch. And yet, a small creature had made his stomach pulse gold to make his friend's wish come true, and that wish for the stars lived on, in the thousands of goldenflies, flitting and diving, and fluttering around her.

"The smallest act of kindness can change the world." A goldenfly landed on the Wizard's finger, its abdomen gently pulsing. "You have come to see me off, and with all your family. Showing off a bit, aren't we, Leshy?"

The bug gave a flap of its wings, and a chirp of its mandibles, before returning to the sky.

"Miss Abby?"

"Yes?"

"I believe we are to have an exceptional persimmon harvest this year. Even trees that have never grown fruit are said to dangle surprises from their branches. Perhaps a visit is in order?" 

Abby looked at Lucy who merely shrugged and Sebbi who shook his head, equally as confused as she was. She returned her attention to the Wizard, who was watching her, amused. "I'll catch a tram ride in the near future."

"Good. He'll be delighted to see you." He turned back to face the city, swaddled in goldenflies, a full yellow moon smiling down at them. "I can hear her." He glanced over his shoulder, and the sun was in his eyes, and his smile as his body started to disappear. "Listen carefully, and I'm sure you'll hear her to. Perhaps, I'll sing with her, and you shall hear us both." 

With that, the Dawn Stag returned to the sky and magick was made whole. All that had been left of the Wizard Kellog, were his cornflower blue robes, scorched at the sleeves. The Eridan was finally safe.

*

Mandon had left the Wizard alone for long enough, he'd decided. Daybreak would be upon them soon enough and the Wizard had a meeting with Mrs. Brantwood-Everly, a rather consequential donor to the Acadium, to assuage her fears that expanding the potioneering labs would further increase explosions. 

No doubt it would, but the woman needed to be placated, her stars freely given in order for the Wizard to achieve his dreams of doubling the amount of students earning their potioneering degrees. 

With a tray of dragon oats- a mushy, under seasoned yet well-balanced first meal - in hand, the Wizard's assistant made his way to the Wizard's office. 

He knocked, thinking it would be locked. So often the Wizard would lock it in a vain attempt to keep Mandon away. Mandon had several copies of the office door key made for such a reason. To his shock, the door was unlocked, and it gave with the slightest push.

Though the room was dim, Mandon navigated the room deftly, having memorized its layout long ago. He could traverse it  in pitch blackness without stubbing a toe or banging a knee. He moved to the window, and peeled back the curtains, allowing the greying pre-dawn light to illuminate some truly troubling sightings. 

Books were scorched. Parchments, little piles of ash. Blackened fingerprints were burned into the Wizard's desk and worst of all, was the noticeable absence of Wizard. 

Mandon frowned, his moustache, ever eager to follow suit. 

He plopped down in the desk chair, cradling his head. 

He would have to reschedule the morning's meeting with Mrs. Brantwood-Everly. The woman was a noble, her time valuable and in short supply. It would not be so easy as sending word by courier. Mandon would have to appear in person and appeal to her love of learning, and passion for the magickal arts in hopes of retaining her patronage. 

A sigh bristled the ends of his moustache. 

Everything else on the Wizard's itinerary would have to be pushed back or rescheduled as well. He was under no misgivings a missing Wizard would be easy to locate. He'd spend the afternoon, most likely, searching for his missing employer, wasting time, as was the desired outcome. 

Another sigh came and went through his lips, swallowed up by the echoing silence of a room desperate to be used as intended. It was a space to work, and yet so little was actually done within its walls. 

Mandon raised his head. Where would the Wizard have gone? He would have tried to think like the Wizard, but Mandon simply couldn't abandon all reason in favor of whim, and irresponsibility. He was not such a man. 

But he did know the Wizard well enough. Well enough to suspect him napping in the storage rooms, probably tucked away behind baskets that should be carrying the school's supply of eggs. 

The Wizard always appreciated the finer details of his schemes. 

As Mandon made to leave, a letter caught his attention. Addressed to him, on the Wizard Kellog's personal letterhead. 

The Wizard only broke out his letterhead to address serious problems - usually explaining away the latest explosion to the king and assuring him such mistakes wouldn't be made going further. Empty words he dressed up with golden parchment and shining blue stars. 

Dear Mandon - 

Mandon gulped. Such professionalism from the Wizard made his veins ice over. 

I find your bravery appalling...

Now this was the kind of letter Mandon was expecting. He rolled his eyes, tamped down his derision and desire to fling the letter out the window and resume his official duties, and kept reading. 

...your appreciation for the arts is sorely lacking, your physical prowess nonexistent (despite my many attempts to whip you into presentable shape). 

You do however, have your merits. Chief among them, your cleverness. I have yet, in all my years, to meet its equal. You have foiled several attempts of mine to shirk my responsibilities without fail. And many more times, have you seen fit to allow me leniency, to be at leisure, because you noticed the darkness under my eyes, or the hollowness of my cheeks, and you understand, I am at my best when I am fully rested. 

You yell at me -- I do not appreciate your yelling at me -- but now that I understand it is a duty born from the heart, and not of your position it is not terrible.

I think, Mandon, reluctant though you are, you have become rather endeared to me. And in truth, how could you not? I am the Wizard Kellog, a great and handsome man. Endlessly charming and clever, capable of conjuring a smile to smite even my most ardent fans, a witty retort always ready on my tongue. 

But you saw me for all I lacked - patience, seriousness, calmness, stability. You saw the human struggling beneath the magick, and considered him. Dare I say, in all our years together, you have grown to think that man worthy of your time and effort?

I am honored and humbled to call you my friend. There is no one more deserving of the Acadium then you. (See enclosed property deed). 

Mandon blinked, and reread what he was certain was a trick of a tired mind. But the words were there and behind the letter, the deed of ownership for the Acadium with him listed as owner. 

It couldn't be. He was no master of magick, or potioneering prodigy. He was a planning man, a behind the scenes sort of fellow, with no idea what the differences were between gum and tack as binders. He could not run a magick school. This had to be a prank, a new low for the Wizard. 

His eyes returned to the Wizard's letter. 

Do not think this gift a result of some whim, or a cruelly disguised jest. You can not refuse this either, Mandon, much as your logic might try to convince you otherwise. 

I have thought about this a great deal, and I believe you the best candidate for my seat. You have dealt with missing eggs and corralling me into meetings long enough. It's time you deal with other equally trifling and exhaustive matters. 

Might I suggest you find yourself a competent second-in-command? An assistant who will follow in your shadow and ensure you are kept out of harm's way? 

Nira comes to mind, but I shan't force the subject. 

Keep the students safe, as you always have. 

Perhaps now, you're wondering about me? (And honestly, who wouldn't?) I'm heading home, you see, and have no plans on returning. 

Do not cry, you know how ugly your moustache gets when your eyes mist over and your lip begins to quiver. 

Mandon jerked his head away, and ran a sleeve across his face. He had not been crying, he had only felt like crying, and with the Wizard so smugly certain of Mandon's affection for him, Mandon would refused to eek out a single tear. He would not prove the Wizard right. 

My sister waits for me. I have missed her dearly, and the songs she used to sing. 

Perhaps one day, if you listen closely enough, you'll hear them too. 

Do well, Mandy. 

And frame the enclosed portrait. It happens to be my best work to date. 

Mandon unrolled a parchment sealed in the Wizard's cornflower blue wax.  It was a sketch of Mandon chasing the Wizard down the corridor. Mandon a hurried, huffing mess, the wind captured in his hair and in the whiskers of his moustache. He was red-faced and hunched over, his brow peppered with wrinkles only the Wizard had been capable of conjuring. In contrast, the Wizard was smiling as he always had.  Mandon ran his finger over the Wizard's cheek, and the drawing winked. He cradled the picture to his chest, and allowed his employer to get the best of him one last time as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

The letter was signed, Your friend. Then in sloppy cursive, the Wizard's true name, one no one else knew, save for the worrisome, moustached assistant who was able to see, tolerate and eventually come to love, the man beneath the magick: 

Kellog Abel Clark.