There are spells he has woven around his room, charms of detection and protection, wards against intruders. They wreath the walls, sinking deep into stone and mortar.

Dark Magic, they tell him, those charms he had spent so many years building up. Eichel closes his eyes and sees his old student, striding towards his room with purpose in his steps, his old ghost dogging his heels.

He remembers that ghost. Heine's curse. It stood between him and his prize, last time.

Eichel stands, snapping his book shut and clearing his desk with a wave of his hand. Another swift gesture opens the door. He greets Heine with his characteristic smile, but there's no hint of warmth in his eyes.

"Heine. You've never come to see me before."