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Description
   There was a banging on the door, loud and insistent. He made his way downstairs from his bedroom. He was fully alert, as he always was. The banging came again as he reached the door, but he did not open it straight away. Instead, for a moment, he simply stared at the door, as if he could see through it.
   Then, he reached down to the handle and opened the door. The cobblestones were shiny with the rain that had fallen that evening, and still dripped from the eves. Standing in the doorway was a young woman with dark, dishevelled hair. Her brown eyes were panicked, and she was out of breath.
   "Please," she gasped, her breath misting, "can I come in? I'm in danger..."
   He nodded at her, but said nothing. His eyes were a piercing grey, and his fair hair hung down, concealing half of his face. She came in, and he closed the door after her. He stared at her silently for a moment, then said, softly, "Go upstairs."
   She nodded, and began walking to the upper floor. He watched her go, and saw her reach, for a moment, into her pocket, and fumble with something. He nodded slowly to himself, and waited for a moment.
   It was not long before he heard the pounding of feet outside, and hammering on his door. Again, he stared at the door for a moment before reaching down to open it. And as he swung the door open, the calm manner was replaced by nervousness. At the door was a tall man, his face dark with anger.
   "Y-yes?" the man with the fair hair mumbled.
   "Have you seen a girl?" the other asked, "She would've come by this way..."
   "Um... y-yes, a moment ago. She ran past my house, that way... I... I wanted to see if I could help her, but she was gone by the time I came down..."
   "This way you say?" the stranger asked, looking down the street, checking for any signs of the girl.
   "Yes... you, you won't hurt her will you?"
   "No, nothing like that... she's my sister..."
   "Ahm, well, good luck finding her then..."
   And with that, the stranger turned and ran off into the night.

   She sat at a small table as he poured her tea, one side of his face still concealed behind his long fair hair, and the one grey eye staring so intently at her that she could not help but wonder what secrets those eyes held.
   "So, my dear, here is your tea. Please, enjoy."
   His voice was deep and steady, and that eye held her gaze perfectly. She accepted the tea gratefully, wishing her hand wouldn't shake so. She had never been able to hold her hands steady, and to have her shaking contrasted now with this man's stillness made her feel worse.
   "Thank you," she whispered, and took a sip of the tea. It was very hot, and very good. "Thank you for helping me. I didn't really expect anybody to help me."
   "You are welcome. And you are welcome to stay the night. I have a second bedroom, which you may use."
   "Stay the night? No, no I couldn't..."
   "It will not be safe for you to return to the streets tonight. In the morning, you may take your leave. But tonight, I insist that you stay."
   She smiled cautiously at him, and inclined her head slightly. They finished their tea in silence, his grey eye never leaving her face, as though he could dig out all her secrets simply by staring. When she had finished, she said good night to him, and asked that he take her to her room.
   He smiled slightly. "In a moment dear. But first, please tell me what you have stolen."
   She looked shocked, and began to shake slightly. But she took a deep breath to steady herself, reached into her pocket, and drew out a golden pocket watch. Its design was beautiful, and it hung from a broken chain of gold links so tiny, they moved like silk. There were words etched into the back, but they could not be read at this distance. The pocket watch was perfectly beautiful, but unfortunately it appeared to be broken, for the time it showed was wrong.
   He nodded. His eye, having left her for the first time, was fixed on the face of the watch.
   "Tell me," he whispered almost inaudibly, "do you know what it is you have there?"
   "Of course," she said, "my father was a shadow mage, he taught me of the old things in this world."
   His smile grew wider then. "He taught you, did he? Very good... yes, very good indeed. Then, you will know about this?"
   And he swept back the hair that hung over his face. Behind that hair, where there should have been an eye, was instead a flat disk of gold, and three cruel claws dug into his face, holding the disk on place. Around the edges of the disk were a dozen lenses of crystal which moved forever, to the centre, then away, then back, in an intricate dance that nobody could ever follow.
   "The eyepiece..." she gasped. "My father told me that it had been lost, that nobody had seen anything of the eyepiece for twenty years." She sat down, hard.
   "I am particularly good at hiding it. But what more did your father tell you?"
   "He told me there were four deep magics, each hidden in an artefact. The eyepiece shows truth, and can see through anything. The pocket watch can control time, and the glove can control the world. These three are for good. The fourth is for evil, but he never told me its shape or its power."
   "That is because he did not know. But you have a deep magic now. And you will soon learn of the fourth, and why I have sought a shadow mage for so long. And now, perhaps this world can finally be healed..."
   "I am no shadow mage."
   "No, but the blood is in your veins, do not fret. Now, get some sleep. We will talk again in the morning."

Description
   There was a banging on the door, loud and insistent. He made his way downstairs from his bedroom. He was fully alert, as he always was. The banging came again as he reached the door, but he did not open it straight away. Instead, for a moment, he simply stared at the door, as if he could see through it.
   Then, he reached down to the handle and opened the door. The cobblestones were shiny with the rain that had fallen that evening, and still dripped from the eves. Standing in the doorway was a young woman with dark, dishevelled hair. Her brown eyes were panicked, and she was out of breath.
   "Please," she gasped, her breath misting, "can I come in? I'm in danger..."
   He nodded at her, but said nothing. His eyes were a piercing grey, and his fair hair hung down, concealing half of his face. She came in, and he closed the door after her. He stared at her silently for a moment, then said, softly, "Go upstairs."
   She nodded, and began walking to the upper floor. He watched her go, and saw her reach, for a moment, into her pocket, and fumble with something. He nodded slowly to himself, and waited for a moment.
   It was not long before he heard the pounding of feet outside, and hammering on his door. Again, he stared at the door for a moment before reaching down to open it. And as he swung the door open, the calm manner was replaced by nervousness. At the door was a tall man, his face dark with anger.
   "Y-yes?" the man with the fair hair mumbled.
   "Have you seen a girl?" the other asked, "She would've come by this way..."
   "Um... y-yes, a moment ago. She ran past my house, that way... I... I wanted to see if I could help her, but she was gone by the time I came down..."
   "This way you say?" the stranger asked, looking down the street, checking for any signs of the girl.
   "Yes... you, you won't hurt her will you?"
   "No, nothing like that... she's my sister..."
   "Ahm, well, good luck finding her then..."
   And with that, the stranger turned and ran off into the night.

   She sat at a small table as he poured her tea, one side of his face still concealed behind his long fair hair, and the one grey eye staring so intently at her that she could not help but wonder what secrets those eyes held.
   "So, my dear, here is your tea. Please, enjoy."
   His voice was deep and steady, and that eye held her gaze perfectly. She accepted the tea gratefully, wishing her hand wouldn't shake so. She had never been able to hold her hands steady, and to have her shaking contrasted now with this man's stillness made her feel worse.
   "Thank you," she whispered, and took a sip of the tea. It was very hot, and very good. "Thank you for helping me. I didn't really expect anybody to help me."
   "You are welcome. And you are welcome to stay the night. I have a second bedroom, which you may use."
   "Stay the night? No, no I couldn't..."
   "It will not be safe for you to return to the streets tonight. In the morning, you may take your leave. But tonight, I insist that you stay."
   She smiled cautiously at him, and inclined her head slightly. They finished their tea in silence, his grey eye never leaving her face, as though he could dig out all her secrets simply by staring. When she had finished, she said good night to him, and asked that he take her to her room.
   He smiled slightly. "In a moment dear. But first, please tell me what you have stolen."
   She looked shocked, and began to shake slightly. But she took a deep breath to steady herself, reached into her pocket, and drew out a golden pocket watch. Its design was beautiful, and it hung from a broken chain of gold links so tiny, they moved like silk. There were words etched into the back, but they could not be read at this distance. The pocket watch was perfectly beautiful, but unfortunately it appeared to be broken, for the time it showed was wrong.
   He nodded. His eye, having left her for the first time, was fixed on the face of the watch.
   "Tell me," he whispered almost inaudibly, "do you know what it is you have there?"
   "Of course," she said, "my father was a shadow mage, he taught me of the old things in this world."
   His smile grew wider then. "He taught you, did he? Very good... yes, very good indeed. Then, you will know about this?"
   And he swept back the hair that hung over his face. Behind that hair, where there should have been an eye, was instead a flat disk of gold, and three cruel claws dug into his face, holding the disk on place. Around the edges of the disk were a dozen lenses of crystal which moved forever, to the centre, then away, then back, in an intricate dance that nobody could ever follow.
   "The eyepiece..." she gasped. "My father told me that it had been lost, that nobody had seen anything of the eyepiece for twenty years." She sat down, hard.
   "I am particularly good at hiding it. But what more did your father tell you?"
   "He told me there were four deep magics, each hidden in an artefact. The eyepiece shows truth, and can see through anything. The pocket watch can control time, and the glove can control the world. These three are for good. The fourth is for evil, but he never told me its shape or its power."
   "That is because he did not know. But you have a deep magic now. And you will soon learn of the fourth, and why I have sought a shadow mage for so long. And now, perhaps this world can finally be healed..."
   "I am no shadow mage."
   "No, but the blood is in your veins, do not fret. Now, get some sleep. We will talk again in the morning."