The rare flocks of weak hair looked lifeless on the stranger’s head. His blurry pale eyes with an absent foggy look slowly rolled from one side to another as he examined Belrigan and Lauro. The man could be taken as a mere vagrant if not for his clothes. He was clad in green trousers and a lite-brown shirt—quite new and well-fitted, in contrast to his other appearance.

Belrigan and Lauro stood still while the stranger stared at them for a few very long moments.

“Hey, lads, what are you doing here?” the man broke the silence with a voice of a chronically drunk person.

The fat guy marked with smallpox was still outside the window blocking the path to retreat, but himself unable to squeeze in the narrow hole. This sudden encounter didn’t promise any good to Belrigan and Lauro. However, it seemed they had a chance to escape: their two opponents looked, honestly speaking, not so formidable, and no one else entered the house.

Belrigan’s heart was beating strong in his chest. He looked inside carefully, listening for his feelings, searching for something that had been there for a long time. It was there before the Evocation, from that very day when he was grafted. It usually felt like a small round… moon, not cold and not hot, empty, but very much alive at the same time. Almost always sleeping, it grew in strength only on the dark nights when the Taus was waning while Fel alone lit up the sky with its almost invisible violet mantle.

It was a part of Belrigan's daily training in the monastery to try to talk to the graft and awaken it during the day. In return, it shared its feelings and senses with him. It didn’t feel like having a moon wolf inside you. It was a subtle and fragile substance, instead, not the ravenous creature that tried to force Belrigan to strangle Lauro today. Only once it was, this inner moon had become powerful before the Evocation, but that was when Belrigan’s life was endangered. It didn’t take over him, no. Instead, the thing fought side by side with its host, warning Belrigan about the incoming danger and hinting at the right moment to strike. But now, it was sleeping, thanks to the potion brothers gave him.

This is even better. I must not lose control over myself again.

“Hey, rascals, I’m talking to you,” the stranger fixed his foggy look at Lauro. “What is your name, small one?”

The man made a few steps toward the brothers—which became a signal to both of them. Like two sprinting rabbits, they plunged along the walls of the room without saying a word. Belrigan slipped past the stranger from his right, and Lauro tried to run from his left. Until he reached the door, Belrigan didn’t realize his brother had failed to escape until he heard his scream. The safety was just a few steps away when Belrigan, with the edge of his eye, noticed something weird happening. He turned back at once, ready to help his brother, but froze, shocked by the picture he saw. The vagrant was still standing in the middle of the room, confused by their sudden breakthrough, while Lauro was hanging in the air, halfway to the ceiling, a few steps away from him, as if someone invisible caught him and lifted him by his hair.

Having little time to think, Belrigan plunged back. The vagrant stood in his way, and he kicked him in the knee. The man collapsed, cursing badly. But Lauro was yelling much louder. Floundering and waving his feet, he hung in the air like a ragdoll. Pulling him down by his legs would be stupid, yet Belrigan wasn’t going to fall back. Yet undecided on what to do, he jumped to Lauro.

It happened as suddenly as it could. Belrigan's vision blinked again, losing its colors. Just a second ago, no one except for three of them was in the room. But then, the gray shadows sprung from the ground, and a misty figure emerged from thin air before Belrigan’s eyes. Much taller than any man Belrigan had ever met, the figure stood next to Lauro, bowing his massive head due to the low ceiling. Only resembling a human in its shape, the ghost had disproportionally long paws and a crocked body. One of these paws held Lauro in the air. The creature examined the boy like he was a peculiar bug, considering probably, whether it should squash the vermin or preserve it for his collection.

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Ghost’s left paw stretched quickly towards Belrigan, who hadn’t yet realized all the terror of the situation. He dodged and even managed to kick the ghost in return—to no effect—and then jumped a few steps away.

With each second, the ghost was becoming more and more material. The air thickened with its sinister energy.

“Let him go!” shouted Belrigan after Lauro screamed especially loud. Surprisingly, this helped: the ghost opened its paw, letting Lauro out, and with the sound of a sandbag, Belrigan’s brother fell on the floor, silent from now.

Too early, it was to celebrate, though, as the ghost lunged for a new victim. It would easily capture Belrigan, but the small moon inside him saved him. It awoke despite the potion and shivered, warning Belrigan of approaching danger and hinting at how to doge it. He escaped the ghost but stumbled in the thick black mist surrounding the room. Maybe it was some debris on the floor, but the result was the same: Belrigan fell, and the ghost grabbed him in the same way it got Lauro, holding him by his hair.

Clenching his teeth from the pain, Belrigan hung in the air like a pup. Wave after wave, steel needles of pain entered his body, piercing it from the head to the tips of the toes. The world blackened before his eye while the ghostly figure became vivid and real. The black wave of mist assembled, weaving into a long black mantle, giving the ghost a prominent look. In other circumstances, Belrigan could find it even royal, but at that moment, he could only stare at the creature with his eyes wide open with terror. Two yellowish eyes sitting deep behind a long nose looked at Belrigan in return. Ghost’s face resembled a disgusting mixture of a dog’s muzzle and a human’s features.

Somehow Belrigan didn’t lose his conscience but was unable to move. His body became numb and soft. Satisfied with the result, the creature flapped its pointy ears and smiled broadly as if ready to swallow him whole. It lowered Belrigan until his legs touched the ground but didn’t release its grip.

The room narrowed to a small space surrounding the creature, and Belrigan heard its deep and bewildering voice asking:

“What is your name?”

No meaningful sound left the wolf’s throat—it was still smiling—yet Belrigan heard these words bouncing inside his head.

“What is your name?” the ghost impatiently repeated the question, and a dozen needles plunged into Belrigans head.

“Belrigan!” He screamed out against his will.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the black brother!”

“Black brother? What is it?”

“We… a-arg… we live in Zidron mountains. We… ”

“What are you muttering, insect?”

The ghost shook Belrigan slightly, almost tearing his head off.

“You have a moon energy inside your body—how come?”

“That… was a graft… an accident…”

“An accident? And what about the other one? I sense a stone energy bound in his spine, ha-ha-ha!” the ghost’s laugh resembled a howling of the wind in a church organ. “Was it also an accident?”

“No… it was a graft… like instructed by the old books…”

”Old books? Are you trying to fool me? You are a Libra mage!”

“No!”

“Are there Libra mages, among others, who came here with you? Answer!”

The primal fear froze Belrigan, squeezing his poor heart that almost stopped beating.

“No!” He yelled loudly.

“Then who the hell are you all?”

“We are black brothers… we live to serve the Five. Our goal is to bring the magic back to the world!”

“Bring the magic back?” the creature laughed again, and his grip relaxed slightly. “That’s a worthy goal. We will bring magic back, I promise you!”

The creature didn’t let him go, yet the needles went away.

“What are you doing in Surram Dahla?”

The lie was just as useless as any resistance.

”We came… to find the moon mages.”

“Who are moon mages?”

“People who can control moon energy.”

“Why are you searching for them?”

“Brothers… we need an ally against Libra.”

“An ally against Libra? Interesting… Did someone tell you to come here?”

“Yes, a wolf-man—”

“A wolf-man?”

“We met him at the Phoenix Peak in the Grass Reach. He led the pack of moon wolves against the tsar’s men and Libra mage.”

The creature fell silent for a moment.

“That must've been Torek—a faithful servant of mine, good one,” the disgusting face of the ghost drew very close to Belrigan. Its yellow eyes looked deep inside his soul. ”What else did he tell you?”

“Nothing else… he only told us to come here and look for moon mages.”

“Good. I need more good servants like him, devoted and brave. Together we will bring the magic back. Go, tell your brothers that I’ll send a messenger tonight. He will guide you to a safe place where we can speak freely and discuss everything. Do you understand?”

The paw again grabbed strong Belrigan’s hair.

“Yes!” he yelled through pain.

“Good. You can go now; I’ll take the other one with me.”

The paw holding him unclenched, and Belrigan fell to the floor. Shivering, he tried to stand up but could only crawl and watch helplessly as the ghostly figure grabbed Lauro and left the house, closely followed by the limping vagrant.