Priestess Liu Flameheart gracefully bowed to the travelers.

 

“I cannot express how grateful I am that you have located and returned our missing cartographer safely. To repay you for this kind favor, I am willing to grant you requests you may have that I can fulfill within my power. Is there anything I can do for you?”

 

The courtyard echoed with the clang of the death knight’s armor as he shuffled several paces forward. He gestured at Mori, who was standing near him to the right.

 

“I request that the child be allowed to speak to the Teacher.”

 

“NO!” Halvor took a giant step forward in protest. “This is terrible idea. Death man, you have not seen this big light bulb. He cannot be trusted.”

 

Sahtra slowly turned to the vrykul and spoke calmly. “I have not seen him, no, but the little one has been telling me about him.”

 

Halvor shot an irritated glance at Mori, who broke out into a sheepish grin.

 

“The Teacher is now contained inside the urn,” Tolkar spoke up. “The sealing spell I performed with the monk should ensure that he cannot be released again.” The tauren walked up to the vrykul. “I believe there is no harm in letting the child speak to him now.”

 

The death knight grinned as he watched Halvor frantically try to change the tauren’s mind.

 

“It is exactly as the shaman says,” spoke Sahtra, “the Teacher is powerless in that form.” He turned to Tolkar. “I am glad you understand,” he said as he inclined his head forward.

 

The vrykul could not believe what he was hearing. “And what if Teacher gives child dangerous death magic? Or what if he kills her? It is trap, I know it!” And, he thought to himself, what if the big light bulb made the small child kill her companions?

 

The death knight chuckled deeply, sending shivers down Halvor’s spine.

 

“You worry too much, vrykul, she only wants knowledge,” Sahtra replied, dismissing his concerns with a wave of his hand. “Besides,” he added, “death is never the end. If she dies, I will raise her as one of my own.”

 

Mori let out a gasp, then quickly clasped her hands over her mouth. What exactly did Sahtra mean? Would she become a ghoul? She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and watched intently as the adults debated.

 

“All right, fine.” Halvor held up his hands in resignation. “I am done talking. I warned you, so don’t blame me later. If child wants light bulb, child gets light bulb. If she dies, I can’t say I didn’t try to stop you.” The vrykul frowned to himself. If Mori killed him, there was nothing he could do about that.

 

The death knight’s lips curled into a grin, and he remained silent.

 

“Very well,” Tolkar began, “Priestess, we request to have the Teacher brought out so the child may speak to him.”

 

“I will have him summoned for you.” Liu Flameheart spoke coolly, hiding any trepidation she felt about the matter, and called out to a pandaren male standing near the entrance to the south wing of the Temple of the Jade Serpent. The latter walked through the door and returned several minutes later, holding the obsidian urn carefully. His face was twisted into a frown as he stared at the object in his hands.

 

“…and I say this treatment is ridiculous! Is this how you repay someone who has gifted you knowledge for millennia? Your ancestors would be grateful! All that aside, who is this person that wants to speak to me? I do not just give out valuable information to those who are unworthy. This merely a waste of time—”

 

The Teacher recognized the familiar aura of the young blood elf and immediately stopped his rambling.

 

“Well, well, well, what have we got here? The child who so eagerly wanted to be my student, but the adults wouldn’t let you. Have they changed their mind?” There would be a wide sneer across the being’s face if he had one.

 

“That’s enough,” commanded Tolkar, “the priestess here is doing us an immense favor by allowing you to speak to Mori. I cannot say all of us agree to it, so do not squander this opportunity.”

 

The Teacher hissed at the tauren. “All right,” he spoke, “let me speak to her. Alone.”

 

“Ah. Yes. Before I forget,” Halvor walked up to the urn, his discontent written clearly on his face, “one rule. You cannot teach her death magic.”

 

The Teacher chuckled. “As you…wish…”

 

“I am Lorewalker Stonestep,” the pandaren holding the urn spoke, “and I am tasked with keeping the Teacher contained inside the Scrollkeeper’s Sanctum so that he may not escape the temple grounds.” He wore a gold-trimmed blue robe decorated with round purple gemstones and the tabard of the Lorewalkers. His grey hair and beard were each tied into a ponytail, with equally grey tufts of fur lining both sides of his cheeks.

 

Mori walked up to the Lorewalker. “Be careful,” he warned her as she handed over the urn, his teal-colored pupils shining with concern. Mori nodded and began walking to the other end of the courtyard, where her conversation with the Teacher would be out of earshot of the others. Upon being brought into the courtyard, the being of knowledge had sensed an additional aura that he hadn’t encountered before, one coming from a man covered in dark blue armor. As Mori carried him, he felt the intense gaze of the death knight, but the human had not spoken a single word since the Teacher’s appearance.

 

“Child, who is that man? What does he want?”

 

The young blood elf slowly looked over her shoulder at Sahtra. The death knight lifted a gloved index finger up in front of his mouth with a grin. Don’t tell him anything, his eyes spoke, he doesn’t need to know. Mori turned back to the urn in her hands and breathed a sigh of relief. She had been trying to obtain it for so long, and it was finally in her grasp. The child kept walking until she and the Teacher were out of earshot of the others.

 

“Teacher, I am here to learn.”

 

“And learn you shall,” spoke the Teacher. “Let us proceed. Do you know what a phylactery is, child?”

 

“Kind of,” Mori replied, “I know you need it to become a lich.”

 

“That is correct,” affirmed the being of knowledge. “For a living being to successfully become a lich after death, they need to bind their soul to an object.”

 

Mori gasped. Soul binding? The Teacher sensed her shock and laughed.

 

“No doubt something the warlock trainers would not tell you about. It is forbidden knowledge to many, for they fear that which they do not know.” His tone became serious once again. “I will teach you the spell for binding your soul to an item of your choosing. Is there an object you would like to use as your phylactery, little one?”

 

With her back turned to her traveling companions, Mori gently placed the urn at the top of the steps and reached into her robe.

 

“This is my pet rock, Arthas,” she explained as she took out the smooth, oval, grey rock from her pocket. “I would like to make him my phylactery.”

 

The Teacher fell silent for a few moments as if considering the choice of object.

 

“Hmm, that will do,” he decided. “When you feel it is time, take the rock to a safe place, away from where others can hear you. It is ideal if no one is present for you to perform The Ritual.”

 

Mori whispered under her breath. “The Ritual.”

 

“Yes child,” the Teacher explained. “For the soul-binding spell, you need your own blood. Not much, a mere drop will do. You must infuse the rock with this blood and speak the following phrase.”

 

From the Frozen Wastes, I call upon you to bind me to this item, for my soul shall be unending with it.

 

Mori committed the phrase to memory immediately.

 

“Now, little one,” the being of knowledge warned, “as soon as you have bound your soul to the rock, you must keep it safe at all costs. If the rock is destroyed before you die, you can bind your soul to another item using the same spell. If, however, the rock is destroyed after your death, you cannot come back.”

 

Mori nodded nervously as she held the rock in her hands tightly. “Is that all, Teacher?” she asked.

 

He was quiet for a few moments. “Yes, my pupil,” he answered, “though I do wonder if your small body will be able to handle the binding.” Unusual to his character, his voice was lined with concern. Mori was silent in response.

 

“I have sensed great potential from you, however,” the Teacher reassured his student, “I do believe you will be able to perform The Ritual successfully. Good luck, and study well. You will make me proud.”

 

Mori beamed as a smile spread across her face.

 

“It has been so long since I was allowed to gift knowledge to another,” the Teacher spoke wistfully, “Request my assistance at any time if you need to learn more.”

 

Mori’s smile faded, and she looked at the urn with a tint of sorrow. “But why,” she began, “why did you hurt those students? What did they do to deserve it?”

 

The Teacher would have been flustered had he still held a corporeal form. “They…they wouldn’t listen to me! They were supposed to do as I, their teacher, their superior, instructed them to do!” This didn’t move the young blood elf, and her eyebrows furrowed into disapproval. “All right, I will admit it,” the being of knowledge continued, “I was proud. I was powerful. I thought I could teach them a lesson! But now, in this form, I suppose I am receiving punishment for my actions. Perhaps someday they will see I’ve changed! Perhaps!”

 

The Teacher made a sound akin to clearing his throat. “That is all I have to say. Now, child, you may return me to the priestess.”

 

Mori picked up the obsidian urn and carried it back across the courtyard. She bowed courteously to Liu Flameheart as she handed it back to her.

 

“Thank you, Lady!”

 

“If there’s nothing more I can do for you,” the priestess addressed the party, “then I leave you all to safe travels. I would recommend staying at the Inn of the Dancing Serpent, located on our grounds.” She bowed and began walking back to the southern wing.

 

Farewell, child.

 

Mori waved at the urn as it got further away and faded out of sight. The young blood elf walked over to Sahtra’s side, immediately followed by the vrykul and tauren, Halvor’s facial features in particular twisted with worry.

 

“What did light bulb teach you, small elf child?” he asked. “It was not death magic, no?”

 

Mori thought for a brief moment and answered, “No…it was blood magic!”

 

The vrykul scowled, unsure if he believed any kind of blood magic to be more or less threatening than death magic.

 

“Can you give us any hints on what kind of spell you learned?” The tauren attempted to tease an answer out of the girl. “It may come into use later.”

 

“Nope!” Mori grinned, her green eyes glowing brightly, “I’m not telling you anything!”

 

The young blood elf watched the disappointed warrior and shaman walk away and looked up at the death knight. He had not spoken a word but had been following her movements and emotions closely since she had left for the private conversation with the Teacher.

 

“Thank you for helping me,” Mori spoke to Sahtra. He nodded in return. She studied his eyes for a few moments and opened her mouth to speak again but closed it immediately afterwards. Not now, she told herself, not here. She looked at the ground in thought. Should I tell him about the Ritual? Would he destroy my rock? I don’t think he would. He’s scary, but he’s nice to me. Avoiding further eye contact with the frightening death knight, Mori reached out for his cloak and held on.

 

“Very well, my fellow travelers,” Tolkar spoke, “I believe it is time we get some rest. Let us proceed to the Inn of the Dancing Serpent.” He worriedly glanced at Mori before turning around and leading the way, with Halvor close behind him.