As for Hannah's life and mine… well, it wasn't as peaceful as it might seem. This ancient city gave us some good things, but it also brought us trouble more than once—especially when we started gaining a reputation.
Hannah and I found our niche quickly. We helped, we healed, and we built without demanding anything in return, which caused our fame to skyrocket. But it wasn't always for the best.
Giving so much away for free directly hurt the business of other wizards. In simple terms: we were stealing their work and their prestige. Every favor we did for free was something they couldn't charge for, and every grateful person was a silent comparison that left them looking bad. No one was stupid enough to say it out loud… but everyone thought it.
Not all wizards hated us. Some were quite friendly. In this era, the exchange of knowledge was one of the primary ways to improve magic, so many approached us, invited us to gatherings, or shared information. We were excellent candidates for those types of circles.
The truly hostile ones were two types of wizards: those who had seen their curses or malicious acts undone by us, and those who served the city directly and had their livelihoods compromised.
Among them, the old wizard we had met at the leader's house stood out. That man wanted us dead.
It wasn't because we wanted his position as the "local wizard"—the leader even offered it to us once, but we declined. Hannah and I always remained independent, helping common civilians. In that regard, we didn't clash with him.
The problem was the other thing.
Civilians rarely turned to wizards because of the costs. Only the wealthy, the noble, or the desperate did so. With our presence, a cheaper, safer… and much more human option appeared. That extra income, private and lucrative, evaporated.
The wizards of this region were resentful and deeply haughty. They believed themselves above the rest, and the idea that others considered them "worse" than two newly arrived youngsters was unbearable. But when their lifestyle began to suffer, hatred turned into action.
At first, there were warnings. Some were direct, sent by their disciples. Others were more symbolic: minor curses, piles of dead birds around our house—clear signs of a threat.
I wasn't afraid of him. And Hannah, with me by her side, wasn't either.
We could have left. We had already learned enough, and moving elsewhere wouldn't have cost us anything. But we had grown fond of this life.
Thus, escalation was inevitable.
Yes, we reached the point of a wizard's duel.
I remember well the first time that wizard came in person to warn us. The second time was no longer a warning: he came with the intent to throw us out… or kill us if necessary. By then, he was no longer worried about retaliation from our supposed "master."
It wasn't a secret. News traveled fast, even without modern communication. No one intervened. Not even the leader dared to take a side. Challenging a wizard—any wizard—was unthinkable.
Calling it a "struggle" is fair… at least from Hannah's perspective. For me, having faced much worse things, it wasn't a big deal. Still, I must admit the old man had skill. He wasn't like his apprentice, who took ten minutes to conjure anything useful.
He moved in a strange way, used ritual objects, and his true strength lay not in raw power, but in the malicious nature of his spells.
It was on that occasion that my status as a wizard was truly confirmed. I used magic openly to face him.
I didn't do it alone. Hannah fought with me. Not because I needed her… but because I needed her to learn.
Even though I don't like doing it, I let her suffer a bit. Sometimes, that's the only way to teach.
I didn't give my all. I barely used the most basic of the basics. Even so, it was a quick fight.
Both sides used different magical systems, and that was immediately apparent. We had a clear advantage at the start simply because our techniques were more efficient and refined. But the old man was no fool: as soon as he noticed the disadvantage, he started pulling out his best tricks.
The cloud of poisonous dust was interesting. The screaming skull, deadly and loaded with malice, was as well.
I had already warned Hannah that this was part of her training—that I wouldn't cover her completely. There would be attacks she would have to handle alone. Still, watching her face them for the first time was… educational in some aspects.
As I said, it ended quickly. Much faster than it would have been if the old man didn't have such surprisingly good physical condition for his age.
After several exchanges of spells, the old man ended up suffocated, his body battered by our attacks. He couldn't continue and withdrew, implicitly recognizing our victory. From a distance, many citizens who had watched in silence cheered… in secret.
That wizard's reputation had never been good, but no one had dared to question him. Until now. Until we existed as a comparison.
That was the start of an open struggle and hatred between wizards.
I didn't finish off that shaman. I let him go. The reason was simple: I wanted him to become Hannah's whetstone.
She needed real challenges. Not just natural dangers, but people with intent, with malice. Under my watch, I could allow her to use that wizard as an enemy dangerous enough to force her to improve… but controlled enough not to kill her.
Of course, I also benefited from the consequences. The ruptured eardrums and skin eaten away by poison required special care. Nothing truly grave, nothing that couldn't be handled… but an excellent excuse to look after her closely and pamper her, even when she pretended not to need it.
In the following months, that wizard—and others we had made enemies of for various reasons, like the arrival of people from other cities or simple disputes over influence—continued to harass us.
Curses. Direct attacks. Magical creatures. Indirect methods.
They even sent Muggle assassins posing as patients or bearers of gifts. They tried everything.
Several different strategies, one single goal: To end us.
...
Another problem that arose in this city—and even attracted people from others—were Hannah's suitors.
Yes, the girl was coveted. And, to be fair, it was completely understandable.
She was a witch. Kind, charitable, good-hearted. She treated everyone equally, regardless of their origin or position. She wasn't just an excellent match for other wizards, but also a unique opportunity for non-wizards to rise in the social hierarchy.
For a good while, courtships appeared in the pure style of the era. Gifts, constant visits, formal invitations. Even the city's leader sent his own son, loaded with presents and rehearsed smiles, with the intention of winning Hannah's favor.
In part, all of this had been provoked by herself.
Every time they asked her, she made it clear that our relationship was only a friendship—that there was nothing between us. That was enough for many to assume we weren't the typical "wizard apprentices bound by fate" or paired by a powerful master. They saw an opportunity… and they took it.
Hannah was overwhelmed.
This was a different era with different social rules. Understanding that they didn't desire her for who she was, but for what she represented—a resource, a symbol, a social ladder—hit her hard. In our time, she was a normal girl. Here, she was little short of a goddess: the kind witch anyone would dream of possessing.
For a while, I must admit, her vanity was satisfied. But it soon gave way to unease.
And I think what worried her most wasn't the attention… but my increasingly somber expression.
There was already a precedent at Castelobruxo regarding what happened when someone grew too interested in her. That's why she made me promise I wouldn't "cause trouble."
I kept that promise… for a time.
Though I was ready to break some legs as soon as I felt things were heading in the wrong direction. A small gesture of consideration and proof that I appreciated her. And if there were moments where I didn't fully keep that promise… I made sure she didn't know.
The breaking point came when Hannah started accepting some "invitations."
Not because she understood exactly what they were. To her, many were just inviting her to festivals, celebrations, or to visit certain places—many citizens did so, from men and women to the elderly and children, because everyone appreciated her and knew she was approachable. I don't know whether to call it innocence or denial; at some point, she must have realized. Though I suspect she also wanted to provoke me a little… she was far too attentive to my reactions.
She stopped accepting invitations after one in particular.
One where, in front of her, I made her suitor's heart explode.
Her expression of terror was… intense, to put it mildly. But it was enough to point out the dagger hidden under the man's tunic, and the lethal poison coating the blade, for her to understand that it hadn't been a fit of jealousy or a sudden madness.
It wasn't a romantic scene.
Hannah understood then that this was not her time. That she was no longer a normal girl. Now she didn't just have suitors willing to give everything for her… but enemies who wouldn't hesitate to use that to end her life.
It was a harsh reality check. Perhaps too brutal.
I admit it: I could have handled the situation better. I was tired of seeing her "going out" with those guys, even though she never allowed anything to go beyond simple, cordial encounters. There was comfort, arguments, pleas… but in the end, everything stabilized.
After that, she stopped accepting invitations. She became more cautious. More aware.
And though the method was questionable, the result was clear: Hannah learned to survive in this era.
So I will say that, even in such a crude way… There was something good in it.
...
And now I was returning home with a bouquet of flowers for Hannah. Not like the ones her suitors used to bring her: Hannah knows I wouldn't do something like that without a reason. These flowers were medicinal; she had asked me to collect them. I just tied them as a bouquet to tease her a bit and, perhaps, have a laugh remembering some of her stupider suitors—those who once brought pretty but highly poisonous herbs and, in attempting to court Hannah, ended up courting death… and being treated as patients by her.
But I didn't get very far.
Around me, a group of wizards surrounded me. And not just me: my clone also saw them doing the same to Hannah. They clearly understood that facing us together was stupid. They had tried before, attacking us separately, but this was the first time they showed themselves so prepared.
Eight wizards blocked my path; in the distance, I felt two others, along with three apprentices. On Hannah's side, there were seven wizards, but with more apprentices. It seems that despite never showing my full power, they considered me the more dangerous enemy. I suppose I must give them credit for the attention to detail.
They didn't give me a chance to speak. I had been a thorn in their side for a long time, so they attacked immediately with quick spells prepared specifically for us. They knew our advantage was casting speed and adapted their techniques to neutralize it. From what I could notice in the catalysts they were using, that came at a cost. They had really put in the effort.
Spells of all kinds erupted from all directions: fire, lightning, dark magic…
And a simple transformation into a puddle of blood, followed by a quick glide, rendered all of that useless.
I regained my form outside the circle they had created. With a flick of my hand, several blades made of blood formed in the air; with another gesture, they shot toward the wizards.
I think Hannah has learned enough by now. And honestly, I don't want to keep worrying about them.
So I guess they've lived long enough.