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Skye walked around his little room. Touching the walls, still in wonder that he could see, always before he would feel the shape of something and form it out of the blackness he knew. Now he could see what he was touching. The silver grey colour was a marvel to him. He could distinguish the shadows and light. He looked up at the glow orb that hung from the ceiling. He could see lines and shapes in it and around it. He marvelled at the complexity of the lines that twisted in and around the glass globe. He followed them through their twisting maze, shuffling around to follow the lines as they turned and sped in dizzying circles. He mapping them in his head, as he'd always done in habit when he'd felt his way around a new place. He'd been able to traverse their humble home simply through the memory of the shape of the space he'd traced in his mind.

He would only stumble against something if his mother had moved it whilst she was cleaning.

He lost himself in the memory of her soft touch and musical voice.

He snapped out of his reverie when he heard a cough behind him. Skye hadn't even heard the door open, or the knock that had preceded it, he'd been so lost in his memories.

"Good morning Skye" the Grandmasters spoke. He was smiling tenderly.

"Good morning sir" Skye answered. "Please sir, I don't mean to be rude, but is my brother..." He couldn't finish the sentence. It hung in the air like a snake prepared to either strike or flee.

"He is fine child. Still recovering from his ordeal, but I will take you to him later"

Elation filled him, the snake of fear fleeing at the onslaught. Tears of joy filled his eyes. In the time since he'd awaken the dark thought that Snow was gone had hung like a bird of vulture waiting for the moment it's dinner stopped moving in the back of his mind.

The Grandmaster gathered him into his arms. "There, there child. It's alright now."

Skye broke free of his grasp. "I'm just so happy sir. I was so worried, I was afraid that..." he burbled.

"Now now, enough of that. I'm sure that this has all been overwhelming for you. I'm glad that I could bring you such joyous news." The Grandmaster again seated himself on the small chair. It seemed incongruous to Skye that such a great person would sit on something so humble. For fear of being rude, Skye perched on the edge of his bed.

"Now then, since it'll be a while before I can take you to your brother. How about we get to know each other better? You might not believe this, but I was once in the same place you were. A little boy in a room after the choosing, wondering what was to happen to me."

The Grandmaster was right. It was hard for Skye to believe that. The image seemed too absurd to consider. All his life he'd heard of the great Grandmaster, leader in the fight against the mages who had started a war in their belief that they alone had the right to rule. The war had been raging for decades. Only after cities had been wiped from the continent and many lives had been lost had the warring factions agreed that the battle would be kept to one area, to spare as many lives as they could. The Grandmaster and his followers had fought to erect a barrier to keep all those behind it as safe. The Enemy had done much the same, but tales spoke of how they ruled those stretches of land beneath an iron fist. People there were recruited to the war with no choice. Although many refugee's had fled the Imperialist mages and joined the Orders side, as many people had left in turn for dreams of glory, gold and power.

Skye wondered what he could possibly say to fill the silence. He looked up again at the light of the globe and its myriad of lines. "Are all those lines and symbols magic?" he asked, for lack of anything else to fill the growing void of the stillness.

The Grandmaster looked up at the glow-orb that Sky pointed to. He turned back and regarded Skye with a raised bushy eyebrow. "Tell me what it is you see there child." He said.

Skye wondered at this, surely the Grandmaster could see it too. He described the lines and how they twisted around, the colours and the shapes. The Grandmaster sat and listened patiently, occasionally asking a question or bringing Skye back to a particular point he'd spoken of earlier.

"You are a most amazing young mage" The Grandmaster said after he had been assured that Skye had explained the whole shape of what he saw. "What you are seeing, I believe, is the raw magic. The essence of the spell form itself. I don't believe anyone has ever been able to do that." The grandmaster raised his right hand, his palm horizontal to the floor. A line formed above it and swirled, a shape twisted and coalesced and hovered above it. A flame hovered above the Grandmasters palm and flickered. The Grandmaster closed his palm and the flame snuffed out.

"Now then, describe to me what you saw when I made that flame." He peered at Skye hawkishly.

Skye described everything that he had seen and could remember. Holding the shape of what he'd seen in his mind. He lifted his palm like the Grandmaster had done and imagined the lines hanging there, growing and twisting into the shape just as the Grandmasters had done, describing it with his left hand as he gestured and followed the twisting shape. He suddenly felt a shift inside himself and pain flared briefly through him. He cried out at the unexpectedness of it, like someone had suddenly pricked him with a thorn. Where he'd imagined the shape above his upturned palm a little flame sputtered and then disappeared. He stared at it in shock.

The Grandmaster laid a hand to Skye's brow and he could feel a tingle surge through him.

"Are you alright child?" the Grandmaster said worriedly.

"Yes sir" Skye finally managed after a few false starts trying to find his voice. "I felt a pain and there was a flame and..." He looked at the Grandmaster suddenly. "Was that magic? Did I do magic?"

The Grandmaster laughed richly. "Yes, you did." He said and then his tone turned grave. "What you did was also dangerous. Explain to me everything that you had done."

Skye explained how he'd been imagining the line and the shape of it, how he'd felt a shift and then the pain. "What you did" the Grandmaster said when he was sure that he'd heard everything. "Was to build the spell form in your mind. What should not have happened is the spell igniting. The shift in yourself as you explained it was the gateway of your magic opening and feeding energy to your thought. It takes months usually before a mage learns to hold a spell form in their minds and longer yet before they can ignite it. It seems that you have an uncanny ability not only to see the inner magic of a spell, but then to recreate it and hold it steady in your mind. From now on, don't do any such thing again. Especially if I am not around! What I find fascinating is this growing of the lines and twisting of them into the shape of the spell from. As I have been taught and have taught many a young mage, Spell-forms are a set creation. I think that I'm going to be learning as much from you as I'm going to be teaching you." The Grandmaster smiled expansively at Skye. "You my dear child are going to be a great mage, if you are careful and diligent in your studies. Magic is a dangerous thing. The pain you felt was small, but the bigger the spell the more it will draw on you. It will take time to condition your mind and body to be able to withstand the forces that you will be drawing on. Now, tell me about how you were able to remember that spell-form and its creation so easily?"

Skye told the Grandmaster about his past, about the dark black world that he had lived in. How he would memorize and place his surroundings as he encountered them in his head, keeping a map of it so that he could navigate it. Talk flowed between them and Skye spoke about his brother and mother. His father and the life he had lived. The Grandmaster told Skye stories of himself when he had been young and wilful. The tricks he had played. The Grandmaster became less and less a figure of mythic proportions and more of a person, albeit one with heavy burdens to bear.

After hours of sitting and sharing their lives a rap at the door interrupted them.

A soldier stepped in. "They've come awake Grandmaster" he said as he bowed.

"Thank you Ukon, please if you would care to lead us to them." The Grandmaster stood and smiled at Skye. "Come along child. We're going to go see your brother now."

*

Snow groaned and shifted his weight. His muscles protested at the movement. It felt like he'd fallen down a cliff and bounced off every possible protrusion along the way. Everything hurt. He opened his eyes and blinked at the harsh light that assaulted them. He fumbled his arm under him and pushed himself upright. Grunting at the dull ache, he shifted himself and threw his legs off the edge of the bed, keeping his head hanging in the hope that the pounding behind his eyes wouldn't intensify if he didn't move it too much. He looked at the strange legs hanging beneath him. White fur stood in dissarea, pointing in all directions from the powerfully muscled thighs. He peered at them wonderingly. He shifted his weight forward and put his feet on the ground. His eyes told him that paws spread out beneath him and his ears heard the click of their nails on stone. He shifted his balance forward and rocked himself upwards, lifting himself from the bed. He shot his arms out to balance himself, feeling a heavy weight behind him pulling him backwards. He sat down hard again. He shook his head and immediately cursed himself for doing so as the pain in his head flared hotly. He brought a hand up to his temples and laid them over his eyes. He felt the tickle of fur against them, soft and downy. He took the hand away and opened his eyes, staring at it blearily. Again his eyes saw a white furred arm and a hand that was a paw. He dropped the hand. Shifting his balance again he shot himself upward, compensating this time for the strange weight at his back. A feeling of triumph shot through him when he stayed upright.

He looked wearily around himself. By the bright light he could see a black furred Wolven lying with it's back turned to him, it's white tipped tail poking out from underneath the blanket. He slowly brought his eyes further upward and saw a smaller Wolven female with ruddy brown fur lying in the next bed along. Slowly he took stock of his surroundings.

Except for the two used beds, and his own behind him. There were a further two beds, a table with 6 chairs and a washbasin with a jug of water next to it. Above the washbasin was a mirror. He could see dust motes dancing in the light streaming in through the window across from the table and a door further on. Slowly he placed a foot ahead of himself, keeping his arms out for balance. He felt like the world wanted to tilt crazily out from under him and it brought to mind the day he'd nicked a bottle of wine from his father cupboard and along with his brother had gotten quite drunk.

Brother? He thought fuzzily, his brain churning in lazy circles. A decision sprang to his mind. He had to find his brother.

Slowly he moved himself forward, feeling as if his body was not his own. Step by step his muscles began to realise what he intended for him to do. He pushed out a hand and grasped the edge of the washbasin when he got close to it. He looked up to see a dishevelled grey eyed white Wolven with black tipped ears staring back at him. Disconcerted he brought his face closer. The white Wolven did the same. After a few moments of trying to find his tongue and make the stubborn thing listen to the commands his mind was trying to give it, he said "Hello". The white Wolvens muzzle moved in time with his words. He thought it rather rude that it was copying him like this. After struggling with his mouth again for a moment he managed to gargle out "What you looking at?"

The Wolven again mouthed along with him. This was getting irritating. Just because it was a member of the famous wolf pack gave it no right to be so rude. Snow stared at it angrily and it stared back.

Slowly he realised that there was a thought trying to grab his attention. He held up a finger at the Wolven to ask it to bear with him for a moment and it did the same thing. The thought finally broke through the aching of his mind. Mirror. The word seemed to shine in front of his brain like an avenging angel.

He stared again at the Wolven face, it stared back at him. He reached up a hand and saw it bringing a paw up to touch its muzzle.

Can't be playing silly games now. He thought sourly and turned away. Slowly he made his way to the door, using the wall to keep himself upright. He stumbled up to it and grappled with the handle, finally managing to push it down and leaned forward against the door. It savagely flung itself open and away from him, leaving Snow without its support. He fell hard to the ground air expelling from his lungs in a great whoomph.

He was pushing himself upward on shaky arms when the sound of crunching ground came to his attention, his ear flicked toward it in annoyance.

"Whoa there little pup" a voice called out. Paws reached down and grabbed him by an arm, hauling him upwards. It kindly helped him get his balance.

"Just where do you think you are going?" It asked him. Snow slowly looked up at his rescuer. A grey furred Wolven stood there, peering at him curiously.

After another tussle between his mind and tongue he finally got it to spit out the word he was desperately trying to communicate. "Brother" he said. He yelped in sudden pain as his obstinate tongue decided to punish him by lying itself in the way of his descending teeth.

The Wolven looked at him in amusement as he opened his jaw and patted his tongue with a finger to convey that he was sorry for wrestling it into submission to his will.

"Wait here a second" the Wolven said and disappeared behind Snow. Moments later he was back.

He gripped Snow by the arm again. "Now, sit down before you seriously hurt yourself."

Snow realised he was tired from his struggles to get to the door and the thought of a moments rest seemed like a good idea. He let the Wolven help him into the chair.

Snow watched as the Wolven strode away again. He wondered if it was the same one who had copied him so rudely. His brain finally registered with him the difference between grey and white fur and he thought happily that it wasn't.

In the distance he could see the grey Wolven speak to a man, who hurried away. He watched as the Wolven approached him again.

"Ok Snow, I've sent someone to get your brother. Now will you sit still and wait?" it asked him.

"Brother" He barked happily, his tongue seemingly so elated as well that it had allowed him to speak. Maybe it was sorry that it had been so obstinate as well he thought to himself.

The Wolven brought another chair out and sat down with him in the sunlight. Snow let the warmth of the day wash over himself.

Slowly the pain and aches started to drift away. His brain slowly started making a few tentative connections, then a few more and then more.

Memories started to spear through him as the past came rushing forward like a stampeding herd of cows. He brought his hand up before his face again, looking at the paw that came into view with new insight. He realised it was his.

The avenging angel of the word Mirror again burned itself across his mind. Another revelation hit him along with it. The rude copycat of a white Wolven in the mirror had been him.

He felt a paw pat him on the shoulder. "Bit of a shock isn't it?" the grey Wolven asked him. Snow could only nod in answer. "My names Orwen by the way." Again Snow could only nod in answer.

Orwen didn't seem to take offence and sat back in the chair, letting the silence grow companionably between them.