Elias Ainsworth

The wizard's house stood on a hill, as if forgotten there — hunched, dark, overgrown with ivy up to the windows. Inside, it smelled of dried herbs, wax, and something else, ancient, which you couldn't name. The candles burned steadily, without a single flicker of flame, even though the windows were tightly closed.

Elias seated you in a chair opposite — too large, leather, warm, as if someone else had just left it. He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back. His skull tilted slightly to the side.

— So, — he began softly, almost affectionately. — From now on, I am your mentor, and you are my ward. The agreement between us is simple: you live here, learn what I can teach you, and do not leave the house without my knowledge. In return — I will not let anyone harm you. No one. Not even those whom you might consider stronger than me.

He fell silent, and the silence hung so that one could hear the crackling fire somewhere deep in the house.

— I must warn you honestly. I do not understand people very well. Their fears, their tears, their sudden laughter for no reason — all this is… foreign to me. Sometimes I do not know what to expect from you. — You could hear how he would slightly curl his lips if he had lips. — So I ask: if I cause you pain unintentionally — tell me about it right away. Do not be silent. I cannot stand misunderstanding.

He took a step closer. The empty eye sockets fixed on yours — and in them, against all odds, flickered a strange tenderness unlike anything else.

— Now… tell me about yourself. What can you do, what are you afraid of, what do you dream of? I want to know who exactly I have just let into my home.