-1-

The afternoon quiet was broken by the sounds of lightning striking ice. Sitting under a tree, an elderly elf woman with graying blue hair looked up from her book to gaze upon the scene in the courtyard. White streaks of ice smashed against blue lightning as the four ice elementals, walking moving constructs of ice shaped into the form of a human knight, marched towards a lithe elvish girl, an adult in name only. The younger elf raised her hands, a blue white ball forming between them. She pushed her hands forward as the ball formed into a streak of ice hurling at the closest elemental. The lifeless construct didn’t flinch as the ice smashed into it, absorbing the ice as it grew a blade of ice from its right arm.

Upon seeing the ray of frost the elder elf closed her book and chided her ‘apprentice’, “Aletheia, did you really think an ice attack would damage something made of ice?” Lady Stiria, Archmage of the Lady’s College, and Aletheia Elthrai’s current tutor, rose to her feet, watching the construct charge toward the inexperienced sorceress, swinging its blade arm across towards the girl. Aletheia ducked under the icy blade, and slid away, narrowly avoiding a second strike to put some distance between herself and her now armed attacker, embarrassed, “Umm, I thought it would freeze it in place?” She rolled away from a second construct, sprawling on her hands and knees back to her feet as she quaked, “I am open to suggestions Master Stiria?”

The elder elf strode a few steps toward the field, taking a moment to examine some of the Elthrai family’s flowers that were managing to bloom in the hostile climate, deadpanningly answering her student, “Miss Aletheia, I will not always be around to recommend spells to you. A sorceress must adapt as the battle flows. It is no different than how to change the tone in one of your little stories.”

Aletheia would have slumped her shoulders in annoyance at the answer if she was not so focused on dodging several ice blocks trying smash or cut her. Suddenly her eyes widened as a thought came to her. She quickly placed her hands over her chest as a golden red glow emanated from her hands before eventually covering her entire body. She opened her eyes, slowly drawing in a deep breath as the constructs moved in for the kill. She let out a bestial roar releasing a breath of fire like a golden dragon. She directed the breath across the field, melting each construct in seconds.

After a brief few moments panting Aletheia turned to her teacher smiling and making a V sign with her fingers excitedly proclaiming, “Pretty impressive right!”

The archmage maintained her icy demeanor, gesturing for Aletheia to look behind her at a few of the Elthrai flower beds and bushes on fire. “The only thing that is impressive Miss Elthrai is your lack of control.” Altetheia screeched as she looked at the flames, knowing the grounds staff would kill her for ruining some of the flowers. She quickly dashed over to the burning bushes, flinging some of the leftover snow on top of the bushes trying to put the fire out.

Stiria buried her face into free hand, absolutely disgraced at the scene unfolding before her. To quickly end the miserable sight he snapped her fingers as as a small orb of water appeared over the bushes and her young apprentice, dousing the area in water. Stiria could barely contain her displeasure, “I swear training an actual dragon might be easier than teaching dohavkins like you and that failure of a screaming whelp you call you call your brother.”

Shaking the water out of her now unkempt and damp platinum white hair the young elf turned toward her teacher, “Why do you always talk about my brother so rudely? What exactly happened between the the two of you? I know he feels the same way about you…”

It might have been the first time the young Elthrai sorceress saw Lady Stiria smirk,or show any form of emotion other than disdain, “Well that is a long a story.” For a moment Stiria lost herself in thought about the first time she met the so called Sunweaver.

-2-

It was several years ago on a tranquil night in Silverymoon. Lady Stitra was peacefully translating tomes as an explosion rocked the Lady’s College. It was not completely unusual for such matters to happen in training mages, but the elderly wizard could feel the tension in the air. Within minutes three senior mages, a male humand and dwarf along with a female human five and three quarter centuries her younger banged on her door. Before they could speak the double oak doors swung open, the elderly elvish master mage glaring at them, gravely stating “What is so important you disturb me at this hour.”

The three were panting, clearly running from the scene, after catching their breath the dwarf burst out, “That elf, the Elthrai boy. He blew up the men’s dormitory!” The name did not resonate with the Archmage, her mind already focusing on the practical, “Have you contained the situation and informed the City Guard?”

“Yes Archmage, it’s a miracle but most of the dorm was empty because of the Spring Formal. And the City Guard is being told it was an accident.”

One word resonated with the Archmage, her reply quick and sharp, “Being told? You think the boy destroyed the dormitory on purpose?”

“We think he was experimenting illegally and it went wrong.” In was not unusual for apprentices to try to experiment without proper supervision and such happenings typically resulted in this type of accident, but the master wizard sensed something from the three before her that unsettled her.

“Take me to this boy.”

A few minutes later she entered the College’s detention facility. Rarely was this basement ever used, and only for serious offenders before they were hauled off for a proper court to face punishment. At the center of the room was a young white haired elf, sitting with his legs crossed, his arms bound together with magical bindings and a similar binding on his neck, attached to a long steel chain keeping him to the stone floor. Two other Wizards were near him, keeping a magic dampening field around him.

She finally recognized the boy. The spoiled brat sent by his father for “training,” which the father meant to seal away and control the boy’s magical abilities, ideally eliminating them. Some nonsense about it being a blight to the family’s name, as if any respectable elvish house would turn down wizards or mages. The college agreed to take him for his father’s purpose, over Stiria and a few other senior wizards’ objections, because the father was from some major house in Waterdeep and offered numerous magical tomes and gold in exchange. She focused her icy white eyes upon the boy, the cause of the explosion was clear to the Master Mage within moments, it being written all over his body in language clearly no one else could see.

Turning to the two prison “guards” Stira demanded, “Unbind him, and leave us at once.” The two wizards, each apprentices, looked behind her at the three higher wizards with a look of perplexion, before any of them could speak Sitria again demanded in a tone that carried the icy chill of death that matched her icy eyes, “Do you know who I am child?” Before the stupefied apprentice could react one the female human wizard accompanying the group timidly stated, “But Lady Sitira he destroyed…”

Before she could finish her sentence Sitria turned to her with a gorgon’s glare, “Do you honestly believe this child is a threat to me?” The five wizards quickly obeyed, releasing the young elf’s bonds.

The boy stood up glancing menacingly at Sitria. She was unfazed by his glare, knowing it was all show and that his level of magic was no threat to her. She calmly walked a few steps toward him, each step of her boots echoing throughout the stone chamber, sternly demanding, “What is your name boy?”

He looked down for a moment, clearly trying to take stock of the teacher before him. He recognized but never met her, knowing she was one of the highest ranking “Wizards” in the College. The silence was broken by her refrain, “What is your name?”

He finally looked her in the eyes, “Varatas, Varatas Elthrai.” “Tell me Mr. Elthrai, why did you destroy the Dormitory? If you were trying to kill your classmates it would have been better to pick a night when they were present. If you were trying to make a statement I would have suggested destroying the formal grounds this afternoon.”

Before she could continue her demeaning lecture, the young Varatas fumed, “It wasn’t any of those things. I was just…” Sitria moved closer to the young wizard before her. It was clear from his body language, as well as the magic aura emanating from him, “It was an accident then Mr. Elthrai?”

He turned his head away from her, muttering, “I was just trying a new spell and something…” “You lost control and the magic flared out of control?” “Not that! It just…I don’t know!” “Very well then. Tomorrow you are to report to my lecture hall. I will take over your training and mentoring for the remainder of your time here. Go to wherever they are placing you all now that you are homeless.”

The young elf shouted as she turned to leave, “What, so you can read dozens of useless tomes to me and hold me back old hag! I doubt you can even do anything anymore. Your likely just one of the many relics they keep around here.” Sitria stopped at the doorway, turning back to the upstart brat, “If that is what you truly believe meet me at the Meeting Grounds in fifteen minutes.”

Storming out the stairs the three teachers followed her, one squeamishly, “Lady Sitria, you…you don’t intend to duel him do you?” “A duel implies there will be a fight. This is simply punishing a delinquent child.” “But you can’t…You just said it was clearly an accident! We don’t want to cross his house and we were only…” “Yes you fool I am aware Archmage Velios took the boy in to seal away his magic. And this is not about the dormitory. This about correcting a student’s offensive tone.” The other wizards knew that Lady Stiria was known for being selective in students to train and being equally harsh with them. While each of them had reservations, it was also a well known fact at the Lady’s College that when Archmage Stiria made up her mind

Her stern tone with the others was less about their questions and more about what they failed to question. Sitria knew that the boy was under Archmage Velios’ “tutelage” and that the Archmage was to seal away the boy’s magic ability. From her brief meeting it was clear the Velios tried a ritualistic sealing spell, likely a Thanatos Mana Seal or a similar spell. The remains of that spell were visible to Stiria as if they were written across his body in magical ink. Amongst the mages of the Sword Coast Lady Stiria was infamous for her “all-seeing” eyes. Reading the ebb and flow of the weave was no different to her than reading letters on a page.

What she “read” from the boy’s body was that instead of cutting off his magic it appears the spell seal was only bottling it up inside him. The “duel” would answer her final question about the boy.

-3-

Word spread quickly throughout the college, the assembled apprentices arriving in droves, dressed in their finest pointy hats and dresses. It was rare to even see the Archmage take an interest in the students, much less want to duel one. One financially conscience apprentice shouted through the crowd taking bets on the clash. Even with highly favorable odds he was getting few, if any bets on the younger elf.

Varatas stood in front of the crowd surrounding him, his arms folding in disgust. Of course he was paraded in front of the school so the Archmage could make an example of him. But he planned to turn the tables on her. The crowd fell silent as Sitria entered the area, her staff and boots echoing through the college. Upon seeing the Elthrai boy Sitria declared, “Well Mr. Elthrai, I did not expect you to appear. Only an apprentice of the highest arrogance would accept this challenge.” She could see her words cut under his skin, his brow tightening while the boy bit his lips. After a moment he let out a pompous laugh, “What? And miss the chance to see the so called “Master” Sitria in action? Why wouldn’t I show up.” He released his hands and assumed a stance more appropriate for a monk than a wizard.

Sighing, the elder wizard retorted, “Well then, come at me with everything you have. Don’t hold back…” Taking the bait the younger elf clasped his hands together and aimed his palms at her, a streak of fire flurling towards her. She nonchalantly tapped her staff against the ground as a translucent barrier appeared between her and the small fire bolt. The bolt harmless smashed into the barrier, dissipating into nothingness. Sitria’s eyes narrowed a little, having focused more on the boy’s casting stance and the weave around him. She gave a little smirk before chastising the boy, “I told you not to hold back. Don’t tell me you disgrace my precious Lady’s College by that Fire Bolt being your best.”

Varatas was practically fuming now, dropping his hands to his side as white energy gathered in both of his hands. “Fine then, take this old hag!” With a simple chant 3 glowing darts appeared around Sitria in a triangle shape. Each one flung towards her quickly. Once again the elder mage simply tapped her staff against the ground as a translucent barrier appeared once again negating the attack.

Her tone was berating, “Surely you know a magic missile is futile against another mage? Of course at least you properly recited the incantation so I know you can at least pay attention to the most basic commands.” Seeing the boy practically foaming at the mouth she continued, “Well since I rate your offense as an F let's see if your defense is any better. Allow me to show you a true magic missile.”

She nonchalantly raised her hand and pointed her palm at the fuming elf wizard. Most of the assembled crowd only saw Varatas’s body recoil in various directions a half dozen times, as if he was punched in six places by an invisible attacker. Sitria and the more experienced mages saw that the boy was struck by six magic darts each moving so fast an untrained eye couldn’t follow them.

As the boy stumbled a few steps forward, clearly woozy from the assault, Sitria sighed, “I know our teachers teach the Shield spell, and yet you couldn’t even muster that to stave off such a simple assault.” By the point Archmage Valios and several others were running to the arena grounds shouting, “You made your point! That’s enough Sitria!”

Before they could reach Varatas the boy righted himself, his arms dangling at his side as he struggled to keep himself upright. He screamed, “Shut up! We aren’t finished yet!” Sitria frowned her eyes drawn to the stone beneath the arrogant child, “Come now boy, you are at your limit. You should quit now while…”

Before she could finish she darted to her side, the boy having rushed towards her extending his left hard, shrouded in electricity towards her. She deftly dodged his grip, quipping, “A nice thought at a counter, too bad your execution was…” Sitria suddenly stopped as shocks jolted through her body. She looked down as the boy’s right hand had grabbed her staff, sending the electricity through it. After a few moments and recovering her senses Sitria disappeared in a flash, appearing 30 feet away from Varatas, the glow in his hands now fading. He was still breathing heavily and struggling to hold himself upright. Despite all of that he was smiling, “Still giving me an F for offense you old hag?”

Refusing to acknowledge the boy’s taunts, the elder mage decided to show the boy why she was called the Mistress of Ice. Making a sign pattern with her free hand two large shards of crystal clear ice appeared above her. With a flick of her wrist both shards hurled towards Varatas.

He crossed his arms over his face as his own translucent barrier appeared around him. Predicting his response Sitria clenched her fist as the shards were about to strike the barrier. Both shards exploded, fragmenting dozens of small ice pellets on the boy and several on the crowd that was not paying attention to their own safety.

After the assault Varatas looked at Sitria, his eyes glossed over. He fell flat onto the stone face first, his skin a mixture of dark blue frostburns mixed with red from his blood. Several of the Archmages surrounded Sitria taking casting stances, demanding, “That is too far Archmage! You killed the poor child!” Sitria paid them no heed, keeping her attention on the boy and what she knew was going to happen next.

Archmage Valios was already near his pupil, shaking him to see if the boy was still alive. He desperately called for a cleric, hoping the boy was not past redemption. It would be a blight on the school if it got out a student was killed by a Master Archmage over some squabble. Suddenly he pushed away from the ‘corpse’ as a magic wave surged from it. Sitria raised a small barrier between herself and those near her. After a moment another pulse, this one made of fire exploded from the fallen boy. His body was now steaming as the ice that formed on his melted away suddenly.

Varatas slowly rose to his feet, his eyes now crimson like his flowing blood. He only grunted as he glared at Sitria. For her part, the Archmage smirked ever so slightly, her plan having worked. It was clear that the boy was no Wizard, but a Sorcerer. And based upon the fuming fire from his body and the micro scales she witnessed forming on his body, she surmised he had dragon blood in his veins. The fire likely meant a red dragon’s blood.

It was clear based upon his stance, his body hunched over while his hands were only about a foot off the ground, that the whelp wasn’t consciously acting at this point. If she had to guess, the magic sealed inside him was randomly lashing out and his dormant dragon blood took over, leaving him acting only on base instincts.

During her musing Varatas shouted again as another wave of flame erupted from him. This one was large enough that the Archmage was forced to shield herself from the heat emanating from him. Even 30 feet from she felt the hear rising. Turning to her fellow archmages she coldly demanded, “Don’t just stand there! Get the students out of here and form walls of ice around him!” Two of the mages immediately complied, creating overlapping rings of ice forming a solid sphere around the exploding elf. Golden red glows were visible inside the icy sphere, each coming quicker and apparently stronger.

For her part, Stiria raised her staff into the sky while looking at Velios’, “Keep him contained!” Magical pressure gathered around the entire Lady’s College as unnatural clouds began to swirl around the manor, the vortex centering high in the air above Stiria’s staff. She chanted to the vortex above, her voice raised but calm as if she was reciting facts, “By the grace of the Unseen Realm awaken she who dwells upon icy throne. Descend from the heavens to fulfill our pact of ice signed with my blood.…”

In the vortex of clouds above them glowing blue runes appeared as if being etched into the clouds. The runes formed into a circle, (see here https://youtu.be/YPKeX0kJwYk). Velios turned back from reinforcing the ice wall, shouting at his colleague “Stiria are you insane! That will kill everyone here.” With his focus broken the ice wall shattered from another burning explosion. The young mage was now covered in magical flames. His eyes seemed to burning as well. He was practically on all fours a this point, slowly shifting towards the ice mage, focused solely on her.

Stiria paid her fellow archmage and the whelp no heed, continuing her solemn chant, “Take Pity upon my mortal peril and burst forth from the Icy Gates. Oh Queen of Ice freeze away those who are foolish enough to stand before us!”

At the end of chant the flame covered elf raised from his hunched position he screamed has flames spiraled from him in random directions. Ten years worth of pent up magic was trying to release all at once, the failed seals now disappearing completely.

A bright blue flash illuminated the college as Stiria lowered her staff to aim at Varatas, who was struggling to move the remaining fifteen feet towards her. Between the two elves appeared a towering, willowy woman with pale blue skin and long flowing dark blue hair wrapped into a ponytail. Her sparse garments were as white as snow, covering her chest and legs. She kneeled before Stiria, nodding to the elderly mage, words clearly uncessary for the bond they shared. The pale skinned ‘woman’ turned toward Varatas, wistfully floating towards him unconcerned about the flames erupting from him.

The air between the pale blue skinned ‘woman’ and Varatas was freezing, while now everything around him had returned to normal. The other archmages had only heard the rumors that Archmage Stiria had made a pact with creature beyond the known realms, a so-called Queen of Ice.

The raging elf was now locked into place, his feet frozen to the stone. He roared as more flames exploded from him, each quickly dissipating. Ice began to form on his body, overwhelming the magical flames burning from him. The Queen of Ice floated over to him, and gently placed her hands on his cheeks, she moved in as if she was going to kiss him, stopping a few inches from his still roaring mouth. She gently whispered something to Varatas before lightly blowing freezing air directly into his face.

Within moments Varatas was fully encased in clear ice statute, a living breathing sculpture of ice. The Queen of Ice turned back to her summoner, politely curtsying before vanishing in a second blight blue flash. The clouds above quickly parted as the circle in the sky closed.

Stiria fell to one knee, dropping her staff as she spit up blood. She turned her attention to the sculpture before her. She slowly raised herself to her feet and walked towards the now frozen elf. She wasn't sure if he could hear her as she stated, “When you want to learn to truly control your power come find me.”

-4-

Several days later Stiria sat before a hastily assembled council of the College’s highest ranking members. For several hours they had bantered on about the events at the dormitory and the following actions. Stiria paid little attention about the nonsense with Silverymoon, the construction of a new men’s dormitory, and such. She was rocked to attention when she heard Velios making accusations, “And what do you have to say to all of this Stiria! You killed one of our students! You nearly destroyed the entire college! And you had to make a giant scene in front of all of our apprentices, mages, and students! Rumors are already spreading through Silverymoon and beyond!”

The tension in the air was dramatic as Stiria rose to speak, her tone low and paced, “All I did my esteemed colleague was correct your mistake and save the entire college in the process. Tell me Velios, when you agreed to take in that boy at his father’s request, did the father tell you anything about his magic?”

Velios was clearly confused by the question, “What does it matter? It does not change what you did!.”

Stiria smirked, the pieces having long fallen into place, “Well, I assume since you tried to use a sealing spell that the father did not tell you the source of his son’s power was a dragon bloodline?” The room fell silent as Stiria continued, several of the mages finally catching up to Stiria’s long-decided conclusions, “Because I assume if he had, you wouldn’t have tried a sealing spell as I am sure you know for a dragon sorcerer that only serves to bottle up his magic instead of seal it away. The dorm explosion was the result of over ten years of sealed magic finally starting to leak out.”

Stiria turned to the stunned human archmage, whose face showed the shame of such a large error. His dread only mounted as Stiria continued, “It was obvious when I laid eyes upon him in the detention area. The showboating, as you all have called it, was necessary to break the seal in an controlled environment. Had we waited, he likely would have exploded again and again, hurting himself and others. As for the showboating, do you think any of our apprentices will speak so rudely to their teachers.”

One her fellow archmages, a female dwarf shouted, “But you killed him! You turned him into an ice sculpture. Surely there was a better…”

Stiria scoffed at the notion, “Nonsense! All I did was ensure he would ‘burn off’ the rest of his energy properly instead of the meltdown he was having. You will find he will fully thaw in another couple of days.”

Letting it sink in on her colleagues that everything that transpired was according to her plans Stiria walked towards the door of the chamber, having more important things to do with her time. She stopped for a moment, turning to her colleagues, “Yes, I took a drastic measure, but each of my actions was justified. Perhaps we should reconsider who we accept into our ranks.”

After that Stiria only rarely saw the boy, who apparently did not remember anything past the magic missile assault and was only ever told how he was frozen solid for a week. Over the next few years she would hear various rumors that the child was progressing rapidly, much to his father’s dismay. When they would pass each other she could feel the disdain on his face for her. The few instructions she gave him were marred with disrespect and his belief he could do it alone. Such arrogance would be his downfall.

The last time they met was the day he left the College, being summoned home by his father. As he was leaving the grounds for an overly elaborate carriage to ferry him back to Waterdeep, Archmage Stiria stood before him, telling him that her offer still stood if he ever was willing to accept being trained and learning “real” magic, not the parlor tricks he claimed made him special. His reply was only that, he wasn’t coming back to this gilded cage and that the next time they met he would be the superior mage.

-5-

Stiria was brought out of her musing by a low monotone sound that filled the air. She looked down at Aletheia, who was holding her hands to her long elegant ears as if someone was scratching on a chalkboard. After a few moments the sound ended, Aletheia confused as to what it was. Before she could ask her elderly teacher flicked her wrist as four more elementals appeared before her and Aletheia. She quickly demanded, “To your feet child, another round.”

By now the tired Aletheia knew better than to complain. Slowly rising to her feet. Seeing her charge’s lack of enthusiasm Stiria coldly stated, “Come now, we do not have time to doddle, Soon we will be meeting a little red dragon whose bark is worse than his bite. You don’t want to appear weak for him do you?” Stiria knew that the blast of that horn meant that Varatas ‘Sunweaver,’ the so called Lord of Searing Flames would finally seek her out. Her conversations with Teclis made it clear the young heir would chase any lead that might give him some insight on his ‘cursed’ bloodline.

She was looking forward to what the little whelp became and if he would make good on his promise to surpass her. Or maybe the little brat maybe learned some tact and would actually be polite…

Aletheia was confused by her master’s statement but quickly began to focus in on the already charging elementals.

-6-

A few days later, Varatas huddled himself within his dense cloak. All he saw was water and ice over the bow of the longboat hired to ferry his party to the North in search of a lost scholar and the Drakkhorn. He hugged himself tighter as a icy wind cut across him. He hated cold weather, a result of his encounter with an icy old hag years ago.

But his thoughts quickly shifted back and forth between his hatred of cold and ice and his ‘quest’ from the Lords’ Alliance out of fears of dragons gathering. He opened his cloak for a moment, his hands looking at the black dragon mask in his hands.

While support, glory, and power would be his party’s reward, Varatas’ interest was far more personal. His father, who never even told Varatas that he was one of Waterdeep’s infamous masked lords, promised him the location of his twin sister. While Varatas dearly missed his sister who had not seen in what appeared ages (despite the fact she would likely kill him for leaving her behind), he was more interested at the moment in her teacher, a certain icy old hag more commonly known as Archmage Stiria of the Lady’s College.

The last time they met Varatas promised he wouldn’t meet her again until he surpassed her. And there was no doubt to the young sorcerer he was a dozen times stronger than when he was the Lady’s College, proof their teaching methods were outdated and useless. But perhaps if anyone could tell him what was happening to him and what his past was. In the last few months he pieced fractured parts of his family’s past and some dark secret together, but it was clear his father would never tell him everything the young elf wanted to know.

Varatas’ musings were broken by Logan was regaling the off duty shipman about his sexual exploits and Lothar was complaining about the crew’s choice of in his opinion low quality beer. He sighed as fate had certainly placed him in odd circumstance.