Prologue

               The sun was setting over Tharym, and the shadows of the cliffs guarding the port city began to stretch out like hands of darkness descending far too early upon these lands. Tharym was enveloped by rocky terrain, resembling the imposing walls of a stone kingdom. The spectacle of the sunset, when the sun's rays slipped through the narrow passage and ignited the waters of the river and ocean in a reddish glow, was a moment of overwhelming beauty.

               For the master of Tharym, this spectacle had lost its magic. He had seen it too many times, and the beauty he once contemplated had faded, lost in a desolate routine. In contrast, his guest, from the window of the upper floor, remained captivated, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene unfolding before him. His visits to the port were rare, and now he struggled to divert his attention from the enchanting landscape to the courtyard of the central building. Even from that height, he could clearly distinguish the two figures near the gate made of black marble, conversing in the quiet of the sunset.

               “How is he managing?” he asked tersely, his voice hoarse from the harsh coastal winds.

               “This place suits him better than your stone tower, Marslo,” the city’s leader replied, a grave tone in his voice. “The boy has adapted quite well, although fear still holds him tightly in its claws.”

               “What fear, Hrassin?” Marslo asked, his eyes flashing with anger. “I didn’t send him here to become the mockery of the scoundrels at the docks!”

               Hrassin sensed a note of paternal concern in the other’s tone and barely restrained a smile.

               “He's made friends with those scoundrels, even though he's scared them off a few times. No, he fears for himself. The telepaths can't explain what happened to him. They will try again tonight, but they haven't discovered anything new in the last few months.”

               Marslo wrinkled his nose at the news. It was clear he had expected something more concrete, yet he didn’t want to torment a child just to satisfy his curiosity.

               “Don’t force him if he doesn’t want to,” he said with a sigh. “It’s already hard enough for him.”

               Hrassin tilted his head slightly, grateful for the gentler tone of his guest.

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               “He understands that we want to help him and has agreed to cooperate,” he confessed. “However, we haven’t managed to gain his trust as that... creature did.”

               His gaze turned toward the window. In the fading light, the young man was barely discernible. The one he was speaking with, however, was a strange presence, almost supernatural, emanating a darkness that seemed to merge with the night settling over the city. Hrassin had not wanted that creature in Tharym. It was something beyond his control, a wild force that even the master of the Tower could not fully comprehend.

               “I suppose your wizards couldn’t approach him either,” Marslo said, sensing the truth.

               “He nearly killed two of them,” Hrassin replied. “I don’t know where it lurks or what plans it has, but it only appears at night. The mystery gnaws at it just as it does at us, but as long as it sees us as enemies, we cannot reach it.”

               “It seems he’s friends with the boy. Use that,” Marslo said, watching the two from afar.

               Hrassin, who had often witnessed their conversations, knew things were far from that simple.

               “They are not friends,” he replied sharply. “They share the same curse, whatever it may be, and like you, they seek answers, but hostility reigns between them. I will not risk provoking the wrath of that creature, nor will I protect the boy. I do not belong to the Tower, Marslo, and I never will. The safety of the city is all that matters to me, regardless of the tribute I must pay to the Guild.”

               “They're just children, Hrassin!” his guest exclaimed, an unexpected outburst.

               Hrassin felt the turmoil within the other’s soul. The Sovereign of the Guild knew how to play his cards, but the looming danger ahead made him lose his patience. After all these years of dealing with the Tower, Hrassin had learned to recognize threats. And to avoid them.

               “That monstrosity I know to which kin it belongs,” he said heavily, stepping away from the window and lifting the wine glass from the desk. “But the boy? The incompatibility between his physical body and his astral one should have killed him, and yet here he is, working side by side with the sailors. And his power... surpasses anything we could imagine. Not even your Guardians would be able to keep him under control.”

               “But the Guardian of Tharym can, to some extent,” Marslo said with a calculated smile.

               Hrassin frowned. The Guardian... Of course, that was why Marslo had chosen to send the two of them to the port city, far from the Tower. Even he himself acknowledged that this collaboration had brought certain advantages. He took a sip of wine, recalling his role. The mystery of the young man did not concern him directly, and although he had to treat him like any other inhabitant of the port, he knew he did not have complete control over him. Not as long as he didn’t truly know who or what the boy was.

image [https://i.imgur.com/Q70lstn.jpeg]