Having spent so much time on Catriona and introduced Aunt Mandalee, gentle reader, I think it’s high time you met my other Aunt, Dreya the Dark.
Dreya’s story is well known, as she herself is famous, or infamous, depending on one’s point of view. There are many versions of this story, but I promised you that every word I write would be true, and so as I peel back the layers of Time, I can relay the events, effectively, as they happen.
*****
The first significant, documented account of Dreya’s life was when one day, not long after the devastating attack on Catriona’s Quarthonian home, she casually knocked on the door of the Red wizard, Xarnas. He had recently retired from the Council where he had served for the last five years as Triumvirate representative, succeeded by Justaria. When he answered the door and looked down at the girl on his doorstep, barely a teenager, lost in too-large robes of a Red wizard, she declared, without preamble, that she wished him to train her in magic. Xarnas kindly explained that he had retired.
Dreya replied that she knew that, which meant he now had sufficient time to devote to her training.
Her presumptuous tone caused raised eyebrows. Few adults would speak to him like that, let alone a child. Yet her voice, when she spoke, was calm and quiet. As if she were merely stating a fact that he had simply overlooked.
When he asked, “Why me?”
Her answer was simply, “Because you are the best.”
Again, there was no flattery in that statement, no attempt to curry favour. Dreya was just stating a fact. Still, Xarnas wasn’t taking on any more students at this time and told her so.
Dreya, in that exact same tone, replied that of course, he wouldn’t be taking on any more students, as training her would require all of his focus and attention. That’s why she had waited until now when he was done with the distractions of Council business.
Xarnas would later admit that he was curious about this girl from the start. Her calm, controlled manner and absolute confidence that somehow came over as self-assured, not arrogant, were fascinating to him. Still, he was looking forward to his retirement and did not want an apprentice disturbing his peace.
Dreya told him in her matter-of-fact way that he would be taking her as his apprentice, “before this day is done, so you are really just wasting time. But I am patient and will wait until you are ready to make the right choice.”
“In that case,” he said, “I suggest you make yourself comfortable on my doorstep because you’re going to have a very long wait.”
To his amazement, Dreya thanked him, politely and promptly sat down.
Xarnas shrugged. He could see no harm in letting her sit there if that was what she wanted. Soon enough, she would get bored and go.
Except she didn’t.
Late that evening, he settled down to read a letter he had received from his youngest daughter, Bronwen, away at magic college. From time to time, he would look out of his window and see Dreya sitting there, either reading a book that she had been carrying in her voluminous robes or practising magic. It was distracting enough for Xarnas to learn about his eighteen-year-old daughter’s first serious boyfriend – a Faery, no less – when he was sure Bronwen had been a little girl only five minutes ago, without having an impertinent young Faery girl on his doorstep. Yes, he was missing having his daughter around, but that didn’t mean he was looking to adopt a new one!
The evening gave way to night, and still, young Dreya sat there. As midnight approached, Xarnas was preparing to retire. He opened his door, and Dreya immediately stood, respectfully.
“Don’t you have a home to go to?” he asked.
“Until now, my home has been in the woodlands with my Faery people, but before this day is done, I shall be living here with you. That will maximise the time you have to train me. Travelling from anywhere else would waste time. Obviously, I could teleport here every day, but that would be a waste of power.”
This was the first time she had said something that was clearly arrogant nonsense. Teleportation was a highly advanced wizard spell, which was learned only after years of study and practice.
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe you can teleport!” he scoffed.
“No,” said Dreya, her tone unwavering. “I do not know how to teleport.”
“So why would you imply that you did?
“I did not mean to imply any such thing,” she assured him. “My apologies for the misunderstanding. What I meant was, while I do not know how to teleport yet, before this day is done, I will.”
“The day is almost done, already,” Xarnas pointed out. “I highly doubt you can learn teleportation or much of anything else in these last few minutes.”
“I know you have doubts,” Dreya replied, “but before this day is done, they will trouble you no longer, and your training will begin.”
By now, Xarnas was tired and had simply run out of patience. “Very well,” he said, “if you’re so interested in teleportation, let me show you how it’s done.”
With that, he wrote the highly complex spell in the air and sent young Dreya more than a hundred miles away to the heart of the nearest Faery woodland community. She would be safe enough there. The Faery would never hesitate to take care of a lost child, no matter how superior and irritating her attitude. Before he could close his door, however, the young girl reappeared in front of him.
“Thank you for the lesson,” said Dreya.
Xarnas was stunned. “How did you do that?”
“I spent the day on your doorstep, reading all I could about the magical theory behind teleportation, how it connects with other powers and the spell form required to activate it. Experiencing it from the inside was just the last piece I needed to do it myself.”
“Show me,” he demanded. “Prove to me you didn’t get someone else to teleport you back here. Prove you can truly do it yourself.”
And so, she did.
Dreya teleported herself all over the place in front of his eyes and Xarnas’ astonishment grew. To learn teleportation like that was incredible. At that moment, he knew his retirement was postponed. He had always enjoyed teaching even the most challenging of students, but this one would be a challenge of an entirely different order. One could search for ten human lifetimes and still never find a student as intelligent, gifted and talented as this one, and she had just turned up on his doorstep. This was an opportunity he could not refuse.
Moving aside, he said, “Please come in, Apprentice Dreya.”
Stepping inside, she bowed and replied, “Thank you, Master Xarnas.”
No sooner had the Red wizard closed his door than a sound drifted on the air: the sound of the town hall clock striking midnight. Listening to the chimes, he remembered Dreya’s prediction that he would accept her as his apprentice ‘before this day is done’ and he had – just before the stroke of midnight. He stared open-mouthed at the teen who now stood inside his home.
“Speaking of lessons,” said Dreya, “I trust you have also learned yours?”
“And that lesson would be…?”
“Never to underestimate me again.”
The Red wizard would indeed never again underestimate her, and he firmly believed that anyone who did so in the future would be lucky if they lived to regret it.
*****
It was about three years into Dreya’s training, and she continued to surpass Xarnas’ wildest expectations. From the very first day, he had made it widely known that Dreya was with him, thinking that her parents or guardians would claim her. No-one ever did, and Dreya herself flatly refused to talk about her past. Her claim that she was from one of the Faery woodland communities didn’t exactly narrow it down – there were a dozen such places on the continent of Elvaria alone. So, for those three years, he unofficially adopted her.
She never shied away from hard work, and she never complained when he assigned her tasks and puzzles that were apparently unrelated to magic, seeming to instantly grasp the lesson he was trying to teach her and how that would later apply to her magic. Her questions were astute and challenging, her aptitude unparalleled. She wanted to know everything about how magic worked, down to the smallest detail and she grasped it all, although she wasn’t afraid to question assumptions and challenge beliefs.
Through it all, however, there was a puzzle about Dreya that Xarnas simply could not work out. He could sense the Darkness growing within her nature, demonstrated not least by her interest in blood magic, which had been attempted by Dark mages past. It was more powerful but had proven impossible to stabilise. It had been banned by both White and Red mages, but the Black robes would never agree to anything that stood between a mage and power. Even between the other two orders, there was disagreement. For the White robes, it was a banned subject, while for the Red robes, there was no such thing as forbidden knowledge. So, while Xarnas could not demonstrate any aspect of blood magic, he would not withhold information, so he shared what he knew. Being aligned with the Balance, Dreya’s Darkness neither feared nor worried Xarnas, for both Light and Dark magic had a place in the world.
Still, he was curious about Dreya’s attitude towards it and so, one day, he came right out and asked her, “Why have you chosen to study and train as a Red robe instead of the Black?”
“You learn more this way,” she answered, “gaining control and discipline. Pulling from both sides of the spectrum while being beholden to neither. One day, perhaps, I may take on the Black robes, but I will do so at a time of my own choosing. Dark magic will serve me, not the other way around. That is the mistake Dark mages always make in the end – they lose control. I will not. I shall be mistress of my own destiny, dancing to no-one's tune but my own. I know I am only at the beginning of my journey, but one day, I will be the Greatest Mage Who Ever Lived.”
Xarnas did not doubt that at all. At this stage in her training, of course, he had any number of spells up his sleeve that Dreya could not counter and in a mock battle, there were any number of ways he could beat her, although that number was getting smaller almost daily. One thing he could not do, however, was break her control: not of herself and not of her magic. He agreed with her mature assessment of Dark mages: they did lose control until the power consumed them. If Dreya could truly break free of that fate, then her potential was virtually limitless.
I wonder, gentle reader, if Xarnas ever truly realised how far Aunt Dreya would go, just as I wonder if any of us now understand how far she may yet climb.
Dreya’s studies with Xarnas lasted a little under five years. She absorbed everything she was exposed to until one day, after a full twenty-four hours of tests, both practical and theoretical, followed by an intense mock battle, the master found that his student had finally surpassed him.
Picking himself up off the floor, where Dreya’s magic had left him, he told her, “Congratulations, Dreya. I have taught you all that I can. I have nothing left to give you.”
“In that case, Master Xarnas,” she said, in that calm, quiet voice of hers, “I see no reason for me to stay any longer. Thank you. You may now retire.”
With that, she gathered her red robes around herself and made to leave.
“Where will you go?” Xarnas called after her.
She did not turn around, but she did pause at the door to answer, “Oh, I have a destination in mind. I’ve known since before I came to you. Now I am ready.”
Then, without so much as a ‘farewell,’ she was gone.