Zihei muttered silently to himself in the dark corridor of the Arcanum. His fellow mage on duty was almost nodding off—an older Novice who had never managed to take even the second step of his rank. Guzen was his name. It was insulting to most to be put at the same level as such a person, but Zihei didn’t mind.

His mind was not on politics, administration, or scheming. No matter how often he had been instructed to handle Sunday and woo him, Zihei had always just shrugged it off or failed on purpose. Why did he have to put himself in a position where one of the literal strangest beings in the world would rely on him? It was silly and downright suicidal! It was one of the times he had thanked his dad for the wisdom of weaponized incompetence he had passed on.

It was the idea that as long as he didn’t do his job right, but looked like he tried, he would be left alone. And it had worked! It had been a close call though. That corpse had a way to get under Zhei’s skin, but he seemed to have given up in recent times. Oh, how wonderful it was to be left alone.

Of course, his inability to do anything but churn out literary hits meant for the romantic souls of Blumwin was not a path of ascendancy and power. And that was just fine.

The books called to him! Even now his mind was itchy to spin the next tale of his latest twelve-book romance saga— ‘Whispers Amid Flower Dew’, which followed the treacherous path of a young woman, torn apart by indecision as three great and handsome magi battled for her hand with poetry and horseback riding. And some spells. Zihei didn’t like combat, but some thrilling danger was part of the job. Alas, his usual spells were locked away in his quarters, while he was armed with a fireball, a shield, and a messenger—a great combo for any budding guard or the arcane secrets beneath the Arcanum.

He knew the spells given to him were not that precious. They were not rare spells, even if one would think differently. In fact, the Arcanum had so many of them it was quite suspicious. Even the most mundane of spells were impossible to simply gather in large quantities unless one stumbled upon a habitat or a place where they thrived and were left alone. Arming tens of magi with fireballs? Unheard of even in old records.

Not many of the Arcanum’s secrets were given to him, alas. Not that he minded. The less one knew, the calmer their life would be. He didn’t even know what he was guarding tonight, but the city was apparently under attack by ghouls of all things… Another barrier to his creative process.

Where was the romance? The sense of adventure and tragedy? Ghouls made for good filler, but a true villain needed charm and uniqueness…

“’Ey,” the gruff voice of Guzen interrupted his thoughts, and Zihei instantly put on his friendliest face. Offending anyone in the Arcanum was a stupid thing. Most magi were related to other magi or very important people. Zihei was not one of them, so he certainly needed to act with proper friendliness.

“Yes?”

“Who’s tha’?” Guzen asked.

Zihei felt a shiver down his spine, but he saw no one walking the shadowy corridor. Was the old fool seeing things now? A novice after so many years meant he was not someone reliable. If one couldn’t even take that single step—

A figure of velvet and silver was leaning on the wall next to them, playing with a ring on their finger.

“Is this the way to the Vault?” a dark but calm voice asked. “This place is a maze!”

Zihei’s mind almost shut down, but a strange force seemed to drag everything into focus. He was about to answer, but his knack for running away into fantasies activated. Was this the long-awaited villain? What was he doing here? He was supposed to be out there, to announce his presence with a flourish and reveal his machinations! And who was the female lead? This was all wrong!

“Who’s askin’?”

“Me. Ah, it would appear compulsion doesn’t work in the whole of the Arcanum. I tried with some of the noble guards outside and found them oddly resistant too. A lot has changed since I last left the district and set foot here. This generation of Adepts is not as incompetent as it seems. So many spells woven into the structure. So much wealth, for such a small city…”

The shadows moved and the figure stepped into the light of the lamps. Zihei’s thoughts once again hit a blank wall. He knew that face. Not because he had seen it personally, but because it was drawn by many of Blumwins artists, and sculpted by many a sculptor. It was sharper than their interpretations, but one never could mistake it for another.

“B-Baron Bloodfang! W-w-what are you doing here?” Zihei stuttered. Did he need to bow?

Cold sweat dripped down his back. Was it about ‘Two Punctures, One Love’? It was an unpopular romance book from his earlier days, but the main character was loosely based on the Baron. The descriptions were of course flowered quite a bit. Who thought a vampire could be ugly? Not blushing young maidens, that's for sure! Was this payback?

There was a thud as a body hit the floor.

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“My, my.”

Had the Baron killed Guzan? The old mage was a pain, but he didn’t deserve to be killed! No, he was breathing. Did he… faint? Zihei was mad he hadn’t thought of that first.

The Baron frowned, then moved toward the door Zihei was guarding with a sigh. He kept looking over his shoulder, which was preposterous in its own way. The Baron was arguably the strongest singular being in Blumwin!

And what was he asking? There were no Vaults behind that door. It just left to another corridor, didn’t it? Zihei tried to wipe the sweat off his forehead but his arm refused to move. Something was not quite right. He had been placed here just because he had pissed off someone, he was sure. Nothing important stood behind the door, or it wouldn’t be him and Guzen guarding it.

Why was his mind so jumbled?

“I’m sorry for worrying you, I was simply… lost.”

The Baron was gone in the next moment and the door behind Zihei closed with barely a whisper. Just a wooden inconspicuous door in one of the less utilized parts of the Arcanum. A simple passage. He sat down against the wall and waited for what seemed like an eternity until he finally took a breath. Guzen moved too.

“Did he ‘nock me down? Yes, he must’ve.”

Zihei didn’t answer, but simply froze as another figure appeared in the distance as if out of nowhere yet again. A simple man. Slim. Not imposing nor dramatic. His smile was wide, and his gait was leisurely. This was not a regular night, it seemed.

A soft humming reached Zihei’s ears.

The man kept walking and walking, and passed them without even a look, leaving both frozen. He smiled as he did, and Zihei saw nothing but that smile. A bit too wide, but distracting from any other features. The wings of the door didn’t so much as tremble as the man somehow passed through them. Or had they?

Zihei felt something brush against his mind. He felt the urge to smile but suppressed it. Who had the time for smiles now?!

Guzan started laughing. And he laughed. Louder. Stronger.

He laughed until his skin cracked. Until his eyes bled. Until inhuman limbs burst out and started clawing their way out of a now-empty skin.

Zihei screamed and cast a fireball.

***

The world was dark red and glass-like as Mera swam through underneath the Earth. It was finally happening. Riya had been left in a safe place to prepare her own little ritual. The time had come for everyone to change alongside the world. Stagnation was death.

And with change came something she hadn’t allowed herself in hundreds of years—hope.

The appearance of one such as Sunday was a premonition of the still world coming alive once again. With the Divine on the move the balance of powers would be broken, and the secrets she needed to escape her impending doom were up for the taking.

She knew tonight of all night was the best opportunity for it the moment her wards had sensed the coming ghoul hordes. What was coming behind it was unexpected, but hardly anything worth thinking of now. The Arcanum had secrets spanning all the regions, and few were privy to them. Even some of the Adepts probably didn’t understand the full extent of the institution they thought they ruled.

Another did though. The Baron had already gone inside. A monster almost as old as her, and much more cunning. Like her, he was impervious to change due to his own mistakes, but he knew how to spin tales and lies in a way to guide the city toward his whims. She appeared in the underground of the Arcanum – a place where many of the quasi-spells had lost some of their power, so she could simply weave through them. Unlike the Baron, she knew where her target was.

He was probably already there though. He was faster than her. Mesmer Steel didn’t allow her to teleport, but burrowing through the gaps in the earth was possible as she made herself as small as a grain of sand. She could do it to others too, and mask the process in any conceivable way.

Locked doors posed no challenge, and even hidden entrances were revealed to her. No matter how strong, the Baron wouldn’t stop her from taking what was hers, and what could save her and allow her to fight once again along those sent to save the world.

***

A large hall with a glowing dome-like crystal that gave light to every corner sprawled deep beneath the Arcanum. Bodies living frozen in crystal littered the walls. They were preserved for all eternity, fed with the purest essence, and harvested for what they offered.

And through them, and of course many other complicated processes and rituals, spells were made. Trust giggled as he hopped about the massive dark well in the middle of the room. It was the Cauldron—one of few such artifacts existing in all Arcanum strongholds, big and small, which could harvest essence and give it life. A remnant of the former Divine Realm, some said. A cursed tool from another world, others yelled.

No one knew how it was made, or if it was truly used to create the spells magi were so proud to scour the world for. However, it was the use they had found for it.

Through it, Trust was about to perform one of the greatest experiments in the Arcanum’s history. It was only a pity that the time had come so soon. However, it was no use to delay it further. He had fed bits and pieces of information to the Baron, and the Mesmer, and even whispered to the Voice of Joy. The latter had been difficult, but not too difficult for someone of his abilities.

Death. Union. Divinity.

A promise of greater power.

They were the pieces he needed to create a spell so unique and powerful, that the world itself would tremble in its wake. He guided them, forcing the Arcanum itself to reveal the path to this chamber. A matter of time, now. All would arrive at different times, and hopefully the confrontation would be enough for the Cauldron to be activated.

The others were wrong to harvest only half-dead spell-fused and create dead artificial copies of spells that lacked spirit. They couldn’t grow or bond like the real thing, and while the quantities allowed for the creation of large magi armies, it was hardly the tool they needed.

Sure, it was technically the moral thing to use only those who had agreed to this sacrifice, but morals didn’t wind wars or thrones.

Trust had briefly entertained involving the loose chosen as well. Meeting the undead had been fun and enlightening. Even now his brethren were turning over the world with their scary talents and ability to grow.

But this one… this one was lost. And yet the powers behind him wouldn’t allow for meddling, that was sure.

Trust, not that this was his name, was not one to fear the wrath of vampires or the Divine. At least not for now, while they were unable to directly influence this part of the world. Times were changing though, and the heralds of that change were walking among them, clueless and still too weak.

So, it was up to him to profit from that and get the ball rolling.