Shaden was glad that his perception of space was enhanced through his mana.
It wasn’t easy to create hair, and all that awaited him after the introductory lessons were details and more intricate details. There was an intangible but significant difference between illusions that looked real and ones that did not, and all he could do now was make copies of physical objects. Otherwise, he would get a strange mix of colors that were close to what he imagined them to be but seemed the slightest bit off. He was getting better, but that was only because he was practicing on his arm; someday, he would have to cover his whole body or going further, the environment around him.
It was similar to Jothan’s superpower, though his friend’s ability had seemed much easier to conjure, looking real with little to no effort. If there was anything he’d learned about powers and magic, it was that powers seemed automatic while magic was manual. Of course, with the right incantations or inscriptions, casting magic would be much easier, but there was a need for effort to bring about such supernatural occurrences. For superpowers, not so much. It wasn’t like he had to focus to wake up as Shaden.
He waved his arm around. The hairs he’d created swayed with his movement, but they looked like they were suspended in water, not air, waving slowly and awkwardly. Only after he concentrated did they fall properly as normal hairs did. He could make around ten strands sway properly without much focus, but when the number went above that, the hairs would float or freeze if he tried to do anything else. If he wanted to disguise himself, he would need to master creating illusions subconsciously. What was left for him was practice, practice, and more practice.
“Hairs are always difficult to reproduce,” Practol told him. “It would be easier to wear a wig.”
He was in his Professor Harn disguise—chiseled and clean in appearance. He had an ample beard and good hair, all neatly taken care of.
“But you don’t,” Shaden said.
“I do not,” Practol agreed. “That is because I have had decades of practice. It is second nature to me.”
“But it means that it’s possible,” Shaden said. “I want to learn everything.”
“Very well. As of now, we are far ahead of our schedule. Now, here is a good trick to remember. Instead of creating the hairs individually, try to create sections of them and then replicate the sections. It will look poor at first, like blocks, but once you improve the physical properties of the sections, your workload will have decreased a hundredfold.”
So Shaden did as he was advised. After placing twenty hairs in a group, he drilled the pattern into his mind. Once he was confident he could remember the feeling, he copied the pattern over his body. As expected, his skin looked like it had square clumps of ugly hair growing from it.
“It is good to create three or more variants when you are comfortable enough,” Practol said. “This will smoothen the incongruity.”
Shaden tried to create another one. Focusing on two then replicating it was difficult, but he managed to make it look better. The only problem was that he had not paid attention to the hairs’ physics at all, causing them to look like short spikes on his arm.
“It’s difficult,” Shaden admitted. “It’s already been a month, and I’m still struggling with hair.”
“It has only been a month,” Practol corrected. “Have some confidence. Too much is harmful, but you deserve to be proud.”
Shaden nodded.
“Now, would you look at the time!” Practol said, looking out of the window. “Let us visit the market before it becomes too dark.”
Getting up, Shaden changed his face. It belonged to one of the children at the orphanage that Practol took care of, someone with the same hair color and height as him. He darkened his skin tone and stretched his eyes, slightly extending his nose. His chin became thicker and his eyes thinner.
“Your chin is a little too far out,” Practol corrected. After Shaden had shortened it, the man nodded, changing into his usual self in half a second.
“Wonderful! I would not be able to tell the two of you apart. You are improving every day.”
They left the building and strolled through the streets in their disguises. All the while, Shaden focused on the magic surrounding his skin, making sure that nothing broke apart or became disoriented. It had happened once. His nose had drooped, and Practol had been quick to point it out. He didn’t want to make the same mistake again, and the best way to improve was to practice in real situations.
The capital was a crowded place. Soon enough, they stepped into the wider road filled with moving carts and people, various noises all over the place. While they were walking, Practol motioned to various objects.
“The plank on the wall,” he told him.
Shaden changed the appearance of his skin to said plank, causing lines and brown texture to get painted over his skin. Now, his arm looked as if it had been made of wood at a glance. There were many more details he was missing, but this wasn’t about the details. It was about blending in with the surroundings in an instant.
“Very good. Now, the pattern of the dress of the lady in red.”
His skin became a mix of stars and roses on a background of velvet. Shaden quickly lightened the tone, realizing that he had made it a little darker due to the shadow of the building over them.
“Fast and precise. Now, the painted glass jar on top of the merchant’s stall.”
The man had chosen a harder one. Shaden turned his skin into the color of light blue, but it wasn’t only the glass’s appearance he had to change this time. For objects that could be seen through, he would have to replicate the environment as well.
“Ah, you need more practice,” Practol observed. “You have forgotten to focus the illusion on me, not yourself.”
“I don’t know how I would,” Shaden said. “We’re moving around as well. Is it possible?”
Practol smiled. The next instant, his head turned clear, leaving only a headless body that walked beside him. Strangely, those around them didn’t seem to care.
“There are skills to make it easier,” Practol said, turning back, “but I have done it with only our gift. Yes, it is difficult. But it is possible. Learn to copy and paste your surroundings. That is why we practice.”
“How did no one notice it?” Shaden asked.
“I am focusing the magic only on you. Light bends through our gift. But you must learn how to direct it, control it. Focus, and two men will see two different things. However, we are not at that stage yet. To have skill, you must have a solid foundation.”
They went around replicating different textures all the way into the marketplace. The large, bustling area was the perfect place to find all sorts of colors and goods to copy, and as magic was not as foreign as it was in Bughast, no one particularly minded his arm changing colors. After all, there were plenty of illusionists around, and according to Practol, competitions existed as well. Practol’s alter ego—Professor Harn—was a teacher of such illusions. The children of the orphanage were regularly taught magic as well, so if anyone did recognize them, they would have an excuse.
The only problem was his voice.
“If you wish, you can be taught that as well,” Practol said, “though it is not part of our art. With your learning speed, perhaps I can get you a teacher. Though I worry that you may pique the interest of many.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“From the time we have received our gift from Skotos, it has remained undiscovered. Those who know about the Limen name are few. Even if you draw others’ interests, you would vanish like smoke in a storm, leaving only me and my son with the aftermath. Though I suppose it would matter little with the many faces I have. A talented boy here or there is nothing unusual.”
“Then I would love to learn.”
To be fair, he was becoming slightly bored with copying and pasting every day. They would have class every weekday when Practol was free; the schedule for the week would arrive through a messenger. It was mostly during the mornings as the man had work in the afternoon. Today they’d begun later, but the routine was set. When the three hours were done, Shaden had nothing else to do but practice in his room or go to food shops with the pocket money he’d received. He would occasionally watch plays or visit the orphanage, but he wanted other stimuli. Magical stimuli. He was a genius in this world, and it felt wasteful not to learn everything he could.
And magic was fun. Feeling the strands and molecules of mana combine and weave together to incur a phenomenon was exhilarating. So much more if he did it as Demund. It was gruesome to recreate magic in the waking world, but if he knew it as Shaden, at least with time, he could learn it all.
“Very well. I will get you a teacher. Is there an alias you would like to use?”
“I don’t think it will matter,” Shaden replied. “As you’ve said, no one knows who I am.”
Practol nodded slowly. “When would you like to begin?”
“As soon as possible.”
The man took out a notebook and scribbled something in it, returning it to his pocket.
“I will send you a list by tomorrow,” he told him. “But we have been distracted. That apple over there looks adequate.”
“Like this?” Shaden said, showing his arm.
“Quite. Make it glisten a little more. Ah, that’s better.”
Light, reflections, and refractions. That would be something he would have to practice creating. He could do it, no doubt about that. But combining all of the different elements together to create an image was what made his head spin.
Nothing was automatic and intuitive, unlike the other gifts. Art was an arduous thing. It never felt perfect. All that would fix it was practice, practice, and more practice.
But he didn’t worry.
He still had plenty of time.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“We don’t have time,” Riley sighed. “The test is before us! Come on, the last thirty minutes are enough.”
“The last thirty minutes are not enough!” Rhyne argued, slapping his hand on the table. “Just when I think I get it, we have to go home. I swear, if we have two hours of continuous practice, I know I can do it.”
The girls were absent as they were out with their friends, so it was just the three of them again. They were at Demund’s house; he’d never thought that he would feel comfortable with people over, but looking at the situation, he had changed. He hadn’t noticed it much.
“You can’t focus because the girls aren’t here.”
“They’re having fun. Why can’t we?”
“Because our test is in two days.”
“We studied hard enough. Besides, it’s the weekend. And it’s only one test. My grades are good so far.”
“Dude. Last test, you slept at five after playing games.”
“I was stressed, okay? I mean, I still did well.”
“You know, it’s not for me to decide,” Riley shrugged, turning to Demund. “You decide. You said that you feel tired after using your mana, and I wouldn’t want to exhaust you for the whole day.”
“I think we can take a break for today,” Demund said. “Maybe you’re being too disciplined because of your power. But it’s not bad to have fun?”
“Demund, my sweet savior, the great sage of legends!” Rhyne declared, throwing his fists up in the air. “I knew you would understand me.”
“But if I mess up my test, it’s on you.”
“What! Er, I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Wow.”
“Anyway, magic! Let’s go.”
While Riley continued to study, Demund positioned himself before Rhyne and placed his finger on his palm. Rhyne stared intently at his hand. They’d discovered that while they used their powers, they could feel the patterns of mana more easily; Rhyne, with his slow-time perception ability, was theoretically the most talented. Next was Riley who could focus better than others. Alina and Kacy didn’t have mental powers, but it still helped to keep their abilities active according to them.
“Hmm. Hmmmmmm…”
While Demund’s light orb shined on Rhyne’s hand, Rhyne furrowed his eyebrows and nodded slowly. Demund was slightly sorry that he didn’t have better ways to teach them, but the other world’s methods didn’t exist here. In the first place, humans learned magic from otherworldly creatures, mainly the elves who had a deep connection to the Spirit Realm. And that was through the assistance of incantations.
He recalled there being human wizards who had awakened magic without the help of the elves or spirits or dragons, but they were the lowest of the low, having little documentation. And rightfully so; such magic could only be transferred from master to student. Of course, one could imbue their books with magic to help the next person learn, but human wizards of the past were too few and unknowledgeable to do such things.
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Demund suspected that he was the same as those archaic wizards. He had wondered how they had transferred their magic to one another, but it was probably the same as what he was currently doing. Usually, it would be one student per master. He could see why.
He knew he’d have to learn more about magic someday. Maybe he would ask Practol to introduce him to some teachers. His studies would help him discover more about what mana was, and in turn, superpowers…
What were superpowers, anyway? How did they work with so little effort from their users? He’d thought of them as being inherent, but the more he learned, the more bizarre they seemed. Such complicated ‘magic’ couldn’t be created naturally. Superpowers had emerged around a century ago. The world changed—that was what they learned in school. But how? What had caused all of this to happen?
He suspected that the answer would be at the Preliminary Islands. But he had failed to get there. But he still had another chance after he graduated high school. Oh, how he dearly wanted to find out.
“Woah, wait, I think I got it,” Rhyne said with excitement. Demund dispelled the magic, and Rhyne took in a deep breath.
“Really?” Riley asked, glancing their way.
“Okay. Look.”
Rhyne glared at his finger. His face started to become red, and after a few seconds of nothing happening, he released the breath he was holding in and fell on the floor, looking defeated.
“I was so close!” he complained, springing back up. “Just when I had the feeling, it kinda went away. Argh, again! We must try one more time.”
“Take it slowly,” Demund grinned, placing his finger on Rhyne’s palm again. “It hasn’t been a week.”
“But how cool would it be to create light? Come on, let’s go.”
Demund cast magic on his hand again, and Rhyne reverted back to his thoughtful expression. His friend could concentrate seriously if he tried—it was just that he only did it for the things he liked. Well, he was glad that his friends liked magic.
“Whew, sorry, I need a break,” Demund eventually said, stopping his magic. “I used too much power too quickly.”
“Dang, it’s already been an hour,” Rhyne whistled. “I didn’t even notice! Yo, I got the perfect stuff for you.”
Reaching into his bag, Rhyne took out a square plastic container and placed it on the table.
“Are those cookies?” Riley asked. “Wait a minute—”
“Yep, my sister made them,” Rhyne grinned, opening the container. “My parents don’t like sweets, so I brought them all here.”
“I love cookies,” Demund admitted, getting up. “I think we have some milk.”
“Er, Demund? Maybe you should try them first before that,” Riley warned. “Jenesy’s cookies are…well, no offense to her. But they’re cursed.”
Rhyne shrugged with a big smile on his mouth.
“You won’t know until you’ve tried them,” he said.
Without much hesitation, Demund picked up a cookie and held it in his hand. He’d tried lizards, mice, fermented meat, hard bread, moldy bread—all sorts of foods as Shaden. He doubted that a cookie could be any worse.
He took a large bite. His eyes widened.
“Oh no,” Riley groaned.
“Oh yes,” Rhyne grinned.
“These—are interesting,” Demund said, stuffing the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “I’ll bring the milk.”
Riley frowned. “Wait, what?”
Rhyne also grabbed a cookie and munched it. “Ah, yes, truly interesting,” he said, chewing slowly. “Tastes like cookies.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
Riley reluctantly took a cookie and inspected it, putting it before his face.
“Smells normal,” he said. Then he took a bite.
“So?” Rhyne asked.
“They’re not cursed anymore,” Riley commented with a nod. “Dang, she improved. But they’re kind of—hard.”
“Yeah, like cardboard.”
“I like it,” Demund said, returning with the milk. “Tell Jenesy I said thanks. They’re kind of like sweeter biscuits?”
“It’s much better with milk,” Riley nodded. “Dude, these are pretty good.”
“Compared to her other stuff.”
“Compared to her other stuff,” Riley agreed.
“I think she’s a good cook? She made me breakfast last time,” Demund said.
“That’s because she practiced. Whenever she makes new dishes—”
Rhyne shivered. “It’s like a thousand cockroaches are dancing in your mouth. Never, ever try her new dishes. Do you know how scary it is to live in the same house as her? One moment you’re lying in bed, and the other she’s stuffing sugar-coated salmon into your mouth. That feeling, it’s like—bam!”
Riley and Demund yelped when a small burst of light exploded from Rhyne’s hand, blinding their eyes. Rhyne yelled the loudest, instantly jumping to his feet with his hands before him.
His eyes were wide open. “Did I just—?”
“I think you did,” Demund blinked.
“No way.” Riley’s mouth was wide open. “This quickly? We can copy superpowers?”
“Well, it’s only light. But yes,” Demund nodded. He also hadn’t expected Rhyne to learn this quickly.
“Do it again, do it again!” Riley said.
“Okay. Whew. How did I do it? Okay, here it goes.”
Rhyne focused—
And nothing happened.
He chuckled nervously. “Um, wait, can I get another example?”
Demund quickly cast magic on Rhyne’s hand, and a sort of understanding seemed to sprout in his face.
“Okay, okay. So it’s like a poof, fling, then bam!”
Demund and Riley winced again when another flash blinded their eyes.
“Dude!”
“Sorry, I can’t seem to control it properly,” Rhyne said, “but I think I got it. It’s like, er—bam!”
“Ow! Dude, stop!”
“I ain’t stopping till I drop!”
While Riley ran around trying to catch Rhyne who was flashbanging them whenever he could, Demund grabbed a cookie and enjoyed it with a glass of milk, closing his eyes. Above everything else, he was relieved; magic was reproducible. And quickly as well. It was only light magic, but his theory had been proved—he could bring his knowledge from the other world to here.
It would be revolutionary. He could be the bridge between the two worlds.
“Oh, right.”
He messaged Kacy. She’d asked him to tell her when he had succeeded at teaching others. While she came across as slightly patronizing, Alina’s words had stuck with him; it wasn’t a bad idea to have ties with the girl. And well, she was cute as well. That made her attitude fun rather than annoying.
Demund shook his head. Well, she was part of the group now. That alone was enough.
He was surprised when he got a reply a few seconds later.
“Video proof?” he muttered. “Hey, Rhyne, come over here for a second.”
“Yeah? Ah, okay.”
He quickly took a short video and sent it to her. Again, she replied shortly after.
“Excellent,” Demund read. “What does that mean?”
He waited for a little longer after seeing her type. Since she was taking longer, he put a cookie in his mouth and was about to wash it down with a glass of milk—
His eyes fell on the message Kacy had sent him.
“W—What!” Demund spat.
“Yooooo, I know they’re not that good, but no reason to spit them,” Rhyne complained.
“Oh gosh, sorry—”
“Here, tissues.”
Demund quickly cleaned the small mess he’d made on his papers. Only milk had come out which was fortunate, and none of it had gotten on the books. It was a short while before he had tidied the place again, after which he hastily returned to his phone to message Kacy.
The message she had sent him—
‘How does going to the Islands sound to you?’
He didn’t know how it would be possible, even with her background. But there was only one answer he could give her.
“Enariss, Jothan—”
He dearly missed seeing both of them.
“I’m coming for you guys.”
⤙ ◯ ⤚
Shaden adjusted his clothes before the mirror. He looked fancier than usual, and his hair had been styled as well. A servant stood next to him with his coat. After he was satisfied, the servant helped him put it on, tidying his body before he went out of the dressing room.
“I don’t see why this is necessary,” Shaden said after he had reached Practol. “You and Shpiel are the only ones who know who I am.”
“It is your birthday. You must look your very best,” Practol smiled. “Besides, we will have some important guests over.”
“Important guests?”
“You will see.”
Shaden didn’t mind meeting new people. But it was sudden, having strangers be invited to his birthday celebration. Practol had reserved a modest banquet hall for the occasion, and looking at the chairs, the number of people who came wouldn’t exceed twenty.
“What are the plans for today?”
“We have many things prepared. But a party isn’t complete without guests.”
At that moment, the doors opened behind him. Shpiel walked in, and with him, several familiar faces made themselves known.
Shaden couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Dad? Mom? Melany! And Shidey too!”
He ran towards them and embraced them in a hug.
“You’ve grown,” Garthan said, patting his head.
“You’ve grown so much!” Melsei cried, holding his face. “Are you well? You didn’t write a single letter to us!”
“I’m sorry,” Shaden sheepishly apologized. “I was very busy.”
“Now then, if you would excuse me, my son will lead you through the preparations,” Practol said with a slight bow. “It is an honor to meet you all, but I suspect that you would rather be by yourselves than have someone watching you.”
“Thank you,” Shaden said gratefully. “For everything.”
“It was the least I could do.”
Practol left the room.
“Where’s Rother?” Shaden asked, looking around. “He didn’t come?”
“Sadly, no. Rother is busy,” Garthan told him. “He has gone to Anor to train.”
“Anor?”
That was where the beastmen lived. More than half a year ago, he had been there, wondering about his purpose in life.
“Yes. The strongest warriors reside there. Right now, he should be working as an adventurer.”
“After I told him not to!” Melsei sighed. “Why must my children do the most dangerous things? Shaden, have you been doing dangerous things?”
“N-not at all,” Shaden smiled.
“I hope so.”
“Rother is a strong man now,” Garthan stated.
Shaden blinked. Rother was six years older than him—which meant the guy was eighteen. That was older than him in the other world. Time had passed so quickly since the day he’d been born in Exarria. Talking about time—
“You’re so tall now!” Shaden commented, looking at Melany who was holding her mother’s dress. “Melany, would you give me a hug?”
She seemed hesitant, but reached out and gave him a hug as well as a kiss on the cheek. Shaden felt warm in his heart.
“You must be…seven?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“And Shidey—”
The cat had jumped out of Melany’s arms and was rubbing itself on Shaden’s legs. Shaden wasted no time bonding with it, and all he could feel from the cat were affection, obedience, and satisfaction from…getting mana?
Right. Shidey was a magical beast. She’d consumed his mana long before he had known it. Now, with his gift from the Jakhar Kishaks, he realized that Shidey was absorbing his mana readily.
“You didn’t hurt my family, did you?” he asked.
“Meow?” the cat replied. It had five tails now. It jumped on top of his shoulders, positioning itself around his neck, purring. Melany didn’t look too happy about that.
He heard Shpiel clear his throat.
“You must be hungry,” he said. “Please, take your seats at the central table. We have a celebration to enjoy.”
So they sat down while facing the front of the room. Shaden and Melany were between their parents, and Shaden handed Shidey back to Melany after she reached out with her hands for the cat. She carried the cat quite well despite it being quite chunky.
Shpiel clapped his hands, and the doors at the front opened in unison, revealing waiters with platters and plates in their hands. They smoothly placed steaming dishes before them and left just as quickly. A neatly dressed man in white with a large, fluffy hat that covered his hair came out after all of them, giving the four family members a bow.
“I am Peresi, the Head Chef for this lovely four-course meal,” he began. “I am honored to serve my guests. Please enjoy this Savlang Blure topped with exquisite Mangar eggs as an appetizer, with a side dish of Soup of Cream with flakes of Mangar. Drinks will be a fine complement of sweet berry juice, with regards to the young guests.”
The cook bowed, then headed back into the doors.
“Now, a party is incomplete without entertainment,” Shpiel said, clapping his hands once more. The doors opened once more, revealing musicians with stringed instruments and woodwinds. They positioned themselves in order, and Shpiel positioned himself before them, raising his hands.
The music softly began, and Shaden was surprised that the man was skilled as a conductor. It was the perfect background music, soft enough so that Shaden could speak with his family.
They talked about many things. How he had lived, how they had lived, what Rother was doing, what sights they saw, what animals he’d seen, the wonderful service the Seines had provided them that allowed Garthan to rest from his guard duties, and much much more. Shaden was delighted to find out that Melany had gotten a private tutor. They were expensive, but now that he was officially part of Skotos, his grandfather didn’t withhold his support for the family. It was also why Rother had gotten the funds to go to Anor.
“All I’ve heard about you is praise,” Garthan chuckled. “You’re doing great, son. You’ve already surpassed me.”
“Dad…”
Garthan had always been someone strong and unbreakable in his eyes. He still remembered the night when he had saved him from the giant mutated rat in Danark. But the things he heard from Lytha and his grandfather lingered in his mind. He was fulfilling what his father had run away from.
But that had happened when his father was very young. He had taken the path of a swordsman instead, leaving behind everything Shaden was learning. But why? Now that he had thought of it, he hadn’t had a proper conversation about life with his dad.
“There’s still a lot I don’t know,” Shaden said. “I want to speak to you properly. To all of you.”
“Can’t we speak now?” Melany asked. “I’m hungry.”
“Haha, okay.”
It wasn’t the celebration he’d expected, but it was the celebration he’d needed. Being back with family after so long felt soothing. While there was some awkwardness due to the amount of time they’d spent apart from each other, it quickly melted away, replaced with the calm, peaceful atmosphere Shaden had grown up in.
He’d missed it much more than he had believed. Hugging his family made him want to fall asleep completely unguarded, free from all the worries in the world. Looking at Shidey reminded him of Grak, and his heart felt sore from thinking about his past two years, but those times were behind him.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed all of you,” he told them with all of his heart.
Thus his twelfth birthday passed, accompanied by the people he loved.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
Practol walked down the hallway, his steps quickening.
Now that the heir’s family had come to Raconel, there were many preparations to be made. Everything would have to be done meticulously under the nose of a genius—someone who had mastered the other families’ gifts within a year. Looking at the boy’s progress, Practol’s mind calculated a hundred different outcomes, steering his actions towards the best conclusion for him and his family.
Many eyes were watching. Powerful, ancient eyes. On one hand was a being beyond human power; on the other was a man who had never missed a kill. Both could end him easily. He had trod a fine line so far, and it had looked like his life would finally come to peace—but then, the heir had arrived. Not the vulnerable, naive boy he was expecting, but someone who matched Granor’s boasting.
Someone who had caught the attention of the dragons.
He had wanted to deal with his obligations quietly, but they had noticed. They had become curious about the existence that was meant to be hidden from the world. And they would ask questions. He had to prepare the boy for that moment, but if that failed—other steps would have to be taken. For his life, for the children’s, for his family’s.
He was aware that he was a valuable piece. He wasn’t in immediate danger yet. But a wise man always knew to prepare for a storm when the sun was bright, to prepare for snow during the summer. So he would weave his connections and tools into safety nets that would break his fall if he ever did fail.
And then there was the boy himself.
There had been rumors that the boy had been blessed by the goddess of Skotos. It was true that magic lingered within the ancient tomes each family had received, and the power the Limen bloodline inherited through their black daggers was something that sent shivers down his spine. But he had never felt the presence of an unfathomable being in Skotos that he had felt in Raconel. He could still remember the powerlessness he’d experienced kneeling before the court of the Silver King and the presence of the Guardian, forced to seal a contract of obedience.
He doubted that the boy was as powerful even if he did have a blessing. His talent was incredible, but it couldn’t hold a candle to something that had lived for hundreds, if not thousands of years.
All he could hope was for the eyes to lose interest. Talent was not rare in the larger scope of things. They would quickly become bored and everyone would go along their separate ways.
For that peace, he needed to prepare.
Pratol’s appearance changed right as he walked out of the doors, blending into the crowd that roamed the streets, unaware of the invisible strings that controlled the nation behind the shadows.