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    Summary

    “A mage should be unnerved by a mage killer.” Lucanis’ response was equally soft, lacking the usual bristle of hostility that protected him. Whilst there was no traditional way of tracking time in the Lighthouse, it was definitely long after midnight and both men were simply tired.
    “Not this mage, I hope.” Shifting in his seat, Emmrich stretched his arms out, bangles and rings glimmering in the flickering light from the fireplace. “Not after… Everything.” When he raised his eyes to look at Lucanis they were ringed with dark circles - almost bruises on his pale skin. They look hollow. Haunted. Lucanis knew he didn’t look any better.
    “No, Emmrich. Not this mage. Coffee?” Habit. Safety. Security. Make coffee, take each step one at a time and perform the ritual to push back the thoughts crowding inside his skull. His hands were perfectly steady as he pulled the beans down from the shelf, each step a familiar routine as he ground them, releasing their heady scent.

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