Vaslin displayed remarkable patience, a trait not commonly associated with wizards. Despite the old man's frequent pauses to catch his breath, Abbie persistently bombarded him with a barrage of inquiries. "Were we the sole trio chosen for this task? How long will our absence be? Will we receive weaponry? Can we choose our attire?" Each question was met with a composed response from the wizard: "When the time is right, all will be revealed." After enduring a dozen or more questions, the Elder raised his hand, signaling for Abbie to cease. Turning to Caylen, he asked, "Do you have any questions?" The young man possessed one burning question: "How were you aware of our gift of clairvoyance?" In Shylea, such an ability was considered a curse. As far as he knew, only Abbie and his parents were aware of it. Were they the only ones summoned to the library today with this skill? And if there were others, were they being offered the same opportunity?
The elderly sorcerer's face lit up once again. "That is an excellent inquiry," he remarked. Abbie opened her mouth to speak, but Vaslin gestured for her to remain silent. "During your initial summer of academic training, my fellow Elders and I visited the school. As we introduced ourselves, we carefully observed each of you. The gift of sight is akin to a delicate flower," he explained, conjuring a stunning Gardenia in his hand. He took a deep breath and gently blew across the petals, sending its sweet fragrance towards Abbie and Vaslin. "Just as you can smell the aroma of this flower, we were able to sense the magical ability of sight radiating from each of you. However, some magical talents remain hidden from our perception," he added, causing Caylen to conceal his concern. "Fortunately, the gift of sight is as fragrant as this flower," he continued, dropping his hand and making the flower vanish. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?" Abbie nodded, but couldn't resist asking, "You mentioned other abilities?"
"In my countless years of studying and honing my abilities in magic, two indisputable truths have emerged. Firstly, the pursuit of magic is an endless journey with no definitive conclusion. Secondly, in rare instances, it is magic that chooses its wielder, rather than the other way around. There are certain gifts that cannot be taught, such as the Halts' and Andoni's innate ability to port. Similarly, we cannot teach them our unique talents; they simply exist within us. When magic bestows its blessing upon an individual, it appears to be a random choice with no discernible pattern. It matters not whether one is rich, poor, of royal blood, or a skilled craftsman. Some, like the two of you, possess the gift of sight, while others are blessed with varying abilities. In exceedingly rare cases, one may possess mastery over both black and white magic, making them a prime candidate for the title of Maeji. However, this occurrence is exceedingly scarce, happening perhaps once in an entire generation, and it is magic itself that elects them. Despite having lived through two hundred and eleven summers, I have yet to witness such a phenomenon." Vaslin beamed with satisfaction. "Does that sufficiently answer your inquiry?" Caylen pondered his mother's caution about discussing matters of magic and nodded, content with the response.
Once more, the sorcerer's temperament shifted. "I implore the both of you," he paused to gaze at Abbie. "To contemplate thoroughly the gravity of the situation. This is not a grand romantic escapade. Many who venture into the Divide never return. As I mentioned before, one out of every five soldiers do not make it back from the divide, despite having dedicated their entire lives to preparing for this endeavor. The mortality rate among those who choose to participate will be significantly higher. Do not deceive yourselves. Until now, hunting, killing, and surviving were mere theoretical concepts, written on a chalkboard and discussed in the comfort of a classroom. But now, you are being called upon to join a group of Shyleans who will not hesitate to sacrifice you, or themselves, in order to accomplish the mission. I urge you to deeply reflect on this before we reconvene tomorrow, when I will accept your final decision."
"Before we delve further, I must inform you that there is a possibility that one or both of you will be tasked to venture into Fiernan. This particular region has always been deemed the harshest and most inhospitable area on all of Dara. Until now, there has been no cause for us to venture there. The ultimate decision to enter Fiernan and who will be part of the expedition will rest with the commander of Stormbolt. She will also determine whether a scribe will be included. It is important for both of you to be aware of the potential demands before making your decision." Caylen had not yet considered where their journey would begin. He was aware that Stormbolt stood as the northernmost outpost of Shylea, having heard stories from soldiers who frequented his mother's shop. It was considered the most prestigious assignment for soldiers throughout Shylea, and Caylen had always dreamed of working as a blacksmith in Stormbolt. However, the thought of traveling there now filled him with dread. "If you are selected to join a team heading into this treacherous territory, the risk of not returning is even greater." If the old man's intention was to dissuade them, he was doing an excellent job in Caylen's opinion.
Without taking her gaze off the ancient sorcerer, Abbie suddenly lowered her eyes to the table. The Elder paused to examine her. After a significant moment of silence, she lifted her head and met Vaslin's gaze, "Alright then, I've given it a great deal of thought. When shall we start?" Vaslin burst into a fit of laughter. Turning to Caylen, he inquired, "Did she absorb anything I said?" Caylen joined in with a laugh, "Not a single word."
Prior to dismissing them, Vaslin cautioned the two young scholars against divulging any information regarding their encounter. The sorcerer turned to Abbie, projecting his voice in order to convey his message clearly. "Listen carefully, young lady. This is no mere game. Do not act impulsively. Think it through thoroughly. Understand?" For the first time, Abbie remained silent, nodding in understanding. Vaslin's lips curled into a smile. "Excellent. See you tomorrow then. Same time?" They both nodded in agreement. Vaslin rose from his seat, signaling the end of the meeting.
Lost in thought, Caylen couldn't recall leaving the library. His mind was in turmoil, trying to make sense of Vaslin's words. But what consumed him the most was Neth's sudden departure. Why did he leave before hearing the rest? What did Neth know that he and Abbie were not privy to? As they descended the Library steps, the sun still high in the sky, Caylen kept a hopeful eye out for Neth, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Abbie strode ahead of Caylen, her pace faster as she eagerly took a few steps ahead. Her body was filled with excitement, causing her to repeatedly jump and clutch her head with both hands, occasionally turning back to grab Caylen's shoulders and shake him with fervor. "Can you even fathom it, Caybell? We're going to the Divide!" She paused and turned to face him, forcing him to halt as well. "You and I, we're embarking on the journey to the Divide! It's been my lifelong dream. To feel the sand beneath my feet. To gaze upon a pristine crystal. I mean, we were shown old crystals in class, but they were all used up and dreary. To be a part of a hunting team." Suddenly, Abbie came to a sudden stop, bending over to look at the ground. "Oh my goodness, I just remembered! The Halts and Andoni. We may encounter them in the Divide too. Can you imagine?" She didn't wait for a response, straightening up and throwing her head back with a joyous scream. "Can you even comprehend it, Cay? We're actually going to the Divide!" As they continued their journey, Caylen remained silent. He had started the day despondent at the thought of being confined to a life working at the library, but now he wished, more than anything, that was still the case.
As they approached the summit of the hill, the melodies of Abbie's parents echoed through the air. Before porting to her family, Abbie quickly ran into Caylen's embrace, giving him a tender kiss and a tight hug. But Caylen seemed oblivious, barely acknowledging her affection. As they parted, it dawned on her. "You'll be at the Clubhouse tonight, won't you?" she asked with hope in her voice. Caylen's response was a nonchalant shrug. "I'm not sure," he replied. Frustrated, Abbie dropped to her knees and clung to Caylen's pants pleadingly. "Please, please come. For me?" she begged, desperation evident in her voice. "We have so much to discuss. Tell me you'll be there." Caylen gazed up at the sky, avoiding her pleading gaze. "I can't make any promises, Abbs," he said. But Abbie was not ready to give up. "Oh no, you don't," she exclaimed, reading between the lines. "I know exactly what that means. It means you're not coming." She grabbed his head and forced him to meet her gaze, tears welling up in her eyes. "Please, Caylen," she pleaded. "I'm not performing tonight, so we can just hang out together. You know I need your help with this decision," she continued, trying to reason with him. But Caylen just laughed. "So, you're still thinking about it? There's no way you're turning this down," he stated confidently. Abbie evaded his question, knowing that this decision could change their lives forever. "This could be the most important decision we'll ever make. You have to be there, Cay. Please, won't you do this for me, Caybear?" she asked, using her secret nickname for him. And just like that, their eye contact worked its magic, and Caylen finally relented.
As Caylen entered the house, a gentle chime echoed from a hook above the door. A voice from the kitchen called out, "Cay, is that you?" "Yes, it's me," he shouted back. He bypassed the kitchen and turned left, making his way down the hallway to his room. His mother's voice rang out again, "Your dad will be home in a few minutes. Dinner is almost ready." "Okay!" he bellowed, acknowledging with a loud response.. In his bedroom, a small bed was nestled against the wall to his right, while a wardrobe stood to the left and a petite desk faced the window on the far wall. He collapsed onto his bed, interlacing his hands behind his head. As he gazed up at the ceiling, Caylen was at a loss for what to do. Neth was extremely against joining the soldiers, let alone the Divide. On the other hand, Abbie was eager to be a part of something she knew little about. Caylen needed time to think. Fortunately, Vaslin didn't immediately accept Abbie's enthusiasm. Tomorrow, Caylen would have to decide whether to participate in the most crucial event in Dara. He had no clue what he would do. The thought of becoming a soldier was daunting, and he didn't believe he had what it took. Was he being practical or just too afraid? He couldn't say for sure.
During his encounter with Vaslin, what disturbed Caylen the most was their discussion on sorcery. While the sorcerer was aware of his clairvoyant powers, Caylen wondered if he also knew about his other abilities. Despite his love for his father and their time spent together, Caylen had a deep aversion towards the butcher shop. The shop primarily dealt with the slaughtering of animals, with every fresh piece of meat signifying a life taken. From a young age, Caylen was exposed to this grim aspect of his father's trade, though he was not forced to participate in the killings. Instead, he was tasked with herding the animals and leading them to the chute, where his father would end their lives. However, no matter how much his father tried to make the process humane, Caylen could never come to terms with it. It could be argued that this constant exposure to the gruesome side of the trade triggered a new magical ability in Caylen, though he remained unsure of it.
As the sun rose on a summer morning, just before Caylen's eighth year, he set out on foot towards school. Rather than taking the bustling streets of the city, which was the shortest route, he preferred a more meandering path. This way, he could enjoy the peacefulness of the cliff path that stretched along the western edge of Valia, overlooking the Arkon sea. It provided him with the privacy he craved. As he strolled, he would often take a few slices of bread from breakfast, tear them into pieces, and toss them off the cliffs. The seagulls would eagerly swoop down to snatch up the delicious morsels, almost brushing his fingertips. Caylen found this game highly entertaining. Soon, he would be trailed by a cacophony of screeching birds. However, on this particular morning, he was forced to take a different route. A thick coastal fog was rolling in, and Caylen feared the cliff path would be too obscured to navigate safely.
Caylen's hidden path was shrouded in more obscurity than the cliff trail. It was hardly a recognizable path, barely wide enough to fit a single foot. The route ran alongside Wychweald Forest, also known as Nightmare Forest to some. This infamous forest was filled with myths and legends of Shylea, from black magic witches to enchanting wood nymphs. It was the birthplace of many dark fairytales and terrifying tales. Despite not believing in any of the stories, Caylen knew two things for certain. Firstly, Wychweald was a massive forest, yet only two roads cut through its vastness. Secondly, as far as he knew, only soldiers on patrol dared to tread these paths. The forest was immense, and over the years, countless Shyleans had ventured into its depths, never to return. Most believed they became hopelessly lost in its vastness, while others speculated a more sinister fate. Regardless, very few dared to venture into Wychweald.
The stretch of land dividing Caylen's route and the forest's edge on that spring morning was blanketed with clusters of bluebells. With the sun ascending just above the horizon, its beams filtered through the foliage, creating haphazard bursts of blinding luminosity. Caylen was compelled to squint in order to glimpse into the forest, thus he opted to fix his gaze on the path ahead.
Initially, he was uncertain if the sound had reached his ears or not. It seemed to be originating from his front right, near the edge of the woods. Despite straining to see, the bright sunlight filtering through the trees obstructed his view. He caught a glimpse of something large and dark lying at the edge of the woods, but was unable to identify it. His initial assumption was that it was a fallen tree. The object appeared motionless. As he continued walking, the sound grew louder, a deep, rumbling noise that he couldn't ignore. He shielded his eyes and pressed on, picking up his pace as he went. The wood line was still a considerable distance from his path. As he drew closer to the object, he realized it was no ordinary log, but an enormous dog. And not just any dog, he was almost certain it was a Tyral Hound.
Caylen was gripped with fear, almost unable to move as he faced the wild hound. He was well aware of their lethal nature, often preying on lone deer, sheep, or goats. Growing up in his mother's blacksmith shop, he had heard countless stories from farmers about these fierce beasts, capable of taking down a full-grown bull in mere seconds. He knew he was no match for the hound, should it choose him as its next victim. His mind raced, unsure of what to do in such a dire situation. Avoiding direct eye contact, he kept the beast in his peripheral vision, hoping to avoid provoking it. The hound remained still, but its low growl was a constant reminder of the danger Caylen was in. With a quick glimpse, he noticed drool dripping from its mouth, a clear indication of its hunger. As he reached the edge of the hound's striking range, it suddenly lunged towards him with incredible speed. The growling had stopped, and the only sound was the hound's powerful paws pounding against the ground as it closed in on Caylen. He turned to face his attacker, knowing that running was futile.
As the hound closed in on him, Caylen braced himself for the inevitable embrace of death. The creature moved with a quiet grace, its steps unbroken as it emitted a low growl and launched itself through the air. With a defensive stance, Caylen thrust his hands forward and let out a blood-curdling scream, but then everything came to a standstill. Time seemed to freeze as the beast hovered in front of him, silent and motionless. There was no sound, no breeze, no movement of any kind. And then, suddenly, Caylen was engulfed in a blinding inferno. He felt the intense heat sear his skin and caught a whiff of burning flesh. But just as quickly as it appeared, the fire disappeared. As his vision returned, Caylen saw the hound lying lifeless on the ground, mere inches from his feet. Strangely, there was no evidence of any fire or injury on the creature's body. It was as if nothing had happened at all, leaving Caylen bewildered and shaken to the core.
Rather than heading to school, Caylen raced to his father's butcher shop with all his might. He was certain his father would already be there, preparing to start the day. He recounted the entire terrifying experience in vivid detail, still shaken by the encounter. Despite his father's skepticism, he chose to postpone opening the shop and instead accompanied Caylen to where the beast was said to be lurking. As promised, they discovered the creature exactly where Caylen had described. After his father thoroughly examined the hound, they set off to his mother's blacksmith shop to share the harrowing ordeal. Caylen's body still trembled with fear.
On that day, Caylen was absent from class and both of his parents stayed home from work. His mother, Lauri, made him go over the events repeatedly while they both listened intently, as if it were their first time hearing it. Later, Clay, Caylen's father, carried the hound to his processing room at the back of his butcher shop. Caylen could sense that something was amiss from the puzzled expression on his father's face. "Do you smell that?" Lauri and Caylen exchanged a glance and shook their heads no. "Rather than ignore it, let's examine it on the table." With that, Clay hoisted the hound onto a large table and flipped it over. He reached for a hefty knife from a nearby rack. "I swear, I smell something like charred meat." He seemed to be muttering to himself rather than addressing anyone specifically. Demonstrating the precision of the seasoned butcher he was, Clay sliced open the body cavity in one swift motion. A cloud of smoke billowed out from the hound's insides, filling the room with the scent of burnt meat. The beast's internal organs were entirely black, yet its exterior showed no signs of damage. Clay meticulously examined the charred organs. "Everything is burnt." He delicately tried to extract the heart, but it crumbled into ashes in his hand. He turned to Caylen. "Did you do this?" Caylen simply shrugged and burst into tears. His mother quickly rushed to his side, embracing him. "It's okay, Cay. It's okay." Clay added, "It's okay, Cay. We'll figure this out." He shot Lauri a concerned look. She, still holding onto Caylen, signaled for Clay to drop the subject. Caylen's father changed the topic swiftly. "Let me dispose of what's left of this guy and we'll get out of here."
As they walked home from the butcher shop, Clay's mind was buzzing with theories. "Perhaps this strange ability is a result of being too close to Nightmare Forest," he mused. "Maybe it somehow affected him." Lauri immediately dismissed this idea. "That path has been used countless times over the years; it can't be the cause." Clay's next theory involved a witch's curse. "Wychweald is their home, so maybe one of them saw Cay on the path and placed a curse on him." Lauri shook her head. "That doesn't make sense; witches have no reason to target Crafters. They just want to be left alone in the forest. Their only conflict is with wizards who see them as a threat to their authority and with soldiers on patrol who are tasked with removing them from the 'King's' forest." Clay considered her reasoning and conceded, "Okay, okay, how about this? Maybe it was something he ate last night or this morning that caused a reaction." Lauri paused to consider this suggestion. "Or perhaps," she countered, "you ate something this morning or last night that has turned you into a complete idiot." Clay grinned. "Yeah, that's highly unlikely. So, what do you suggest we do?"
"From somewhere towards the front of the house, a voice echoed the words, "Dinner is ready." Elder Vaslin had specifically instructed Caylen and Abbie to keep the details of their meeting a secret until after their second meeting tomorrow. Caylen had every intention of honoring that promise, but he knew it would not be an easy feat. As an only child, he was incredibly close with his parents and they shared everything - no secrets between them."
When Caylen entered the room, he found his parents already seated at the table, engrossed in their usual nightly ritual of reviewing the day's events. His father exclaimed, "Today was quite an extraordinary day, to say the least." Intrigued, Caylen inquired, "What do you mean by extraordinary?" Clay's butcher shop, nestled in the heart of the city, was not just a place to purchase meat, but also a popular hub for people to congregate, share news, discuss politics, and engage in some idle chatter. For those seeking to stay updated about the city, The Daily Cut was the go-to destination. "Apparently, all the Elders were present at Scholars' Hall today," his father went on. But Caylen knew that not every Elder was there. "They were interviewing new professionals about something," he added. Caylen's mother shrugged, "Well, with Elders, one can never predict. They are always up to something peculiar. Why should today be any different?" "That's true, but it was the talk of the day," his father added. "Other than that, it was just another ordinary day. What about you?" Lauri exclaimed, "Today the shop received a considerable number of soldiers. I inquired about any recent developments, but unsurprisingly, none of them had any information. As usual, they were mostly just browsing, although there were more present than usual. One can only speculate on the purpose behind their visit, if anything at all.." With that, both parents turned their attention to Caylen. "Okay, enough about our day, tell us, Cay, how was your first day?"
Caylen found himself in a delicate predicament. The Shyleans, being honest beings, were not wired to deceive. As he nervously glanced down at his plate, he silently hoped his parents wouldn't probe too deeply. "He just gave us a tour and stuff," Caylen casually replied, purposely leaving out Vaslin's involvement. "I'm not entirely sure yet how it will all pan out," he added, struggling to find the right words. But deep down, he knew the truth would inevitably come out tomorrow. For now, he just had to make it through the night. "Do you know what your role will be?" his mother inquired. "I'm still in the dark, but I should have more clarity tomorrow. Today was just an introductory tour," Caylen lied through his teeth. "I'll have a better idea tomorrow." Before they could dig any further, Caylen swiftly changed the subject.
“Mom, what do you think about the soldiers from Stormbolt that come into your shop?” Stormbolt was the northernmost outpost, literally touching the Great Divide. "What can either of you tell me about soldiers?” Caylen’s father looked puzzled. “Can you be a little more specific, “his mother asked. “Today at the library there was a lot of talk about soldiers from Stormbolt. Someone said they were different from other soldiers, and I was wondering how. From what I could tell from hanging out at the shop, all soldiers are the same. Is that true?” If Caylen were to say yes to Elder Vaslin, and he was not, he would find himself most probably in the company of soldiers from Stormbolt.
His mother paused for a moment before responding. "I must say, the soldiers of Stormbolt are some of the most intelligent individuals I've ever encountered. They possess a strong dedication to duty and sacrifice that few of us will ever truly understand. They devote ten long summers to intense training, preparing for ten grueling months of unimaginable challenges. And once they complete the Great Hunt, they are deemed too old to participate in the next 24-year cycle. By the age of 25, they have fulfilled their ultimate purpose in life. So be grateful that you will never have to endure what they do." Caylen's mother continued, "Consider this perspective: scholars run the government or devote a lifetime to acquiring knowledge at the Scholar's Hall, while crafters spend their lives perfecting their skills. But a soldier trains for a decade just to perform one task, and after that, they will never have the opportunity to utilize their skills again. We interact with individuals from various professions on a daily basis, but soldiers tend to keep to themselves. At the age of 14, they leave cities like Valia and are stationed in compounds along the Divide border, spending their youth preparing for the certainty of facing death. That, my son, is the quick answer to your question. And the best of those who train are chosen to serve at Stormbolt. If you were to speak with them, you would find no trace of arrogance or bravado. In fact, they may be the most humble soldiers you will ever encounter, albeit the most secretive. And remember, those soldiers who have bested you in sparring at the shop were most likely from Stormbolt." Caylen managed to fake a laugh.
"I have one more question. A senior gentleman came into the library asking for information about Fiernan. Although we discussed it in class, I can't recollect much about it." Caylen's mother turned to his father and said, "You're the one who is passionate about all that. Let's hear it." Caylen suspected that the wine might have affected her a bit. His father gave his mother a stern look and began, "Fiernan remains one of the greatest enigmas of Dara. While there are possibly three or four military compounds along the northern border, Stormbolt is situated right across from Fiernan at the narrowest point of the Divide. I believe that's why our most formidable warriors reside there."
"As far as I'm aware, no one has ever dared to venture into that place. Rumor has it that the Elders have strictly forbidden even the Stormbolt soldiers from entering. The reason behind this ban remains a mystery. Normally, the Elders are known for their verbosity and insistence on explaining every decision they make in detail. But when it comes to Fiernan, they maintain an uncharacteristic silence. Many speculate that they are concealing the truth about what lies within. Some believe it to be the birthplace of dark magic, home to dragons, and the realm of blood witches, goblins, and hoflords." Lauri chuckled. "By 'some,' he means himself and the other village idiots who frequent his shop." Clay paid no attention to her and continued, "The only mention of Fiernan in public can be found in the ancient writings etched onto the great stones that make up Shylea's Maeji dwelling. And only the Maeji possess the ability to decode these inscriptions. Speaking of the Maeji, they are even more mysterious and elusive than Fiernan." Caylen interrupted, "The Maeji?" "Honestly, I know very little about them" "You got that right," Lauri interjected. Clay playfully stuck out his tongue at her, and she returned the gesture with a broad smile. He continued, " I know that the Maeji possess incredible magical powers. Could they have any connection to Fiernan?" His father shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Suddenly, Clay leaned forward in his chair. "I remembered something else. “What I can tell you about them is that they advise the King on all things spiritual and magical. In the four lessor provinces, I think, each Baron has a Maeji to act as an advisor as well. They hold up somewhere in the complex encircled by the royal grounds. Maybe they act as groundskeepers when not advising the king." Lauri laughed, “Yeah, that’s what they do, they water the king's lawn. You have got to spend less time with those nuts that visit your shop.” Clay laughed, “You are probably right. Anyway, as far as I know, those guys only talk to the Elders and the King.” Clay turned to Lauri for anything she might add. “Don’t look at me, I have no idea.” “I’m not sure if this is true or not, but from what I have heard, if the King wants magic or spiritual advice, he must go to the Maeji. The Maeji does not go to the king.” Caylen asked, “Have you ever seen one? “Nope, never have, and as far as I know, no one has. Who knows, they may be a myth.
"To redirect our conversation to your initial question, the only allusions to Fiernan that I am aware of, are etched onto the rune stones that form the foundation of the ancient Maeji dwelling. These runes and the structure itself have withstood the test of time, far surpassing the age of the grandiose royal buildings that surround them. This leads me to believe that Fiernan existed long before any records were ever recorded. Interestingly, it has been rumored that the same rune stones depicting Fiernan also bear depictions of dragons and other mystical creatures." Lauri threw her hands up in defeat. "Oh no, we are not going there! Save the fantastical dragon talk for your shop. I swear, you imbeciles spend all day conjuring up these theories." Clay mimicked her gesture in jest. "Laugh all you want, but there is more happening than what the elders or the King are revealing to us." Lauri shook her head disapprovingly. "You truly are an idiot." They both erupted in laughter. "I may be an idiot fool, but I am your idiot." "That is undeniably true." Lauri playfully blew a kiss across the table. Turning to Caylen, she became serious once again. "No one possesses much knowledge about Fiernan. Throughout the years, soldiers who have visited our shop have shared that while patrolling the edge of the Barren, they have caught glimpses of the land beyond when the waves of heat subsided. Some have claimed to witness colossal flying beasts circling the skies, while others have reported sightings of herds of creatures roaming the land. A few have even mentioned witnessing strange, vividly-colored fires burning in the night. Most of these can be explained as mirages caused by the scorching sand. However, the secrets held by Fiernan remain a mystery. For my part, I hope it remains that way."