Eduardo's palms sweated. They were sticky and uncomfortable and he wished he could go wash them, but alas, no such opportunity was available right now. The cold stone walls of the refectory bore no water fountains and the desolate monastery had no modern amenities such as plumbing. His only companion was the old statue of Virgin Mary starting him down from the end of the hall. He had always hated the convents, but their secluded locations were ideal for their cause and the rigid hierarchies of the Catholic church easy to infiltrate. Yet, with resources s available to them, more modern and comfortable accommodations should not be hard to come by. It seemed like asceticism and discomfort were a common malady in old organisations and their was the oldest.

The wooden doors at the other end creaked and opened. One of the aides emerged, dressed in all crimson as was the custom. Rigid dresscodes and flashy uniforms were an ill fit for a secret society, yet relished by each and every one of them, It was like they were taunting to be found.

"He will see you now," the aide said flatly.

Eduardo nodded and rose up from the hard wooden bench. His legs felt numb and tingly. How long had he been waiting?

He walked past the hall and through the doors into the corridor lining the small garden. The plants were dry and weathered – he should notify someone about that. Not that was his responsibility, but worrying about the caretaker's relapses kept his mind occupied and off from the upcming crucible.

The door to the Grand Master's room was a small wooden one and if not for the elaborate silver eye symbol attached to it, completely innocuous. He pushed it open and went in.

The man behind the black wooden desk was old. Old men calling the shots, another cliché of these kinds of societies. Of course, Grand Master was impossibly old. Something for the other leaders to strive for, he mused.

Eduardo lowered his gaze and waited.

It was a long while until the old man spoke. They liked these kinds of games, keeping their subjects uncomfortable as long as possible. "How many days has it been?"

Ah, yes. Remind him of his failures – or rather, the failures of his subordinates. "Ten days, master."

The frail white-haired man smacked his lips. "Ten days. Please, remind me, has there ever been a time we've been at such a… disadvantage for ten whole days."

"Well, I'm sure there was something during the Schism in middle ages…"

"Stop your insolence, boy!"

Eduardo swallowed. He knew how to play this game, but sometimes his instincts got better of him. "I'm sorry, master."

"What is the status of the operation?"

"We have agents on the ground. Informants have been told to keep their eyes open. It will be only a matter of time before we find him, master."

"Have we not been able to locate him? We have a whole sect of different kinds of seers!"

"Unfortunately, the precautions we've employed to keep him hidden from the others also stealth him for the normal magical tools at our disposal. We may have been, if I may say so, too effective. Master."

The old man harrumphed, because of course he did. "What about the means beyond normal magics?"

"That would require us to bring his absence to their attention. I have been under the impression we are not willing to risk that, master."

"Very well. It would, indeed, be advisable to avoid further calamity. However, if there is no progress in the immediate future, I will hold you and your department personally responsible."

"Of course, master." Eduardo wondered what the Grand Master could ultimately do. He was disposable, even if somewhat hard to replace, but the whole department… Unfortunately, the Red Fist lacked no imagination when dealing punishments. Once, half of the accounting had been turned to zombies.

"You are dismissed. Find me the boy soon, or face the consequences."

How bad being a zombie would be, anyway?

* * *

Azucena stared at the ticket in disbelief. She was not sure if she had ultimately believed in the boys abilities. He possessed some magic, for certain, but the ability to predict the future. The impossible skillset? That had still felt improbable at best. Cars, graffiti, dice and cards. She could easily find a potential explanation for all of that. But this?

It would upend the whole metaphysical understanding of our universe – and of magic. If one could know what happens, not only a few seconds or minutes from now, but entire days… What did that mean for the structure of the whole fucking universe? Were there some looms of fate? Or was it pure mathematics, where the trajectories of every atom had been decided and magic, seemingly a criminal in the court of physics, was just another cog in the machine?

There were people much more knowledgeable about these things out there and while she yearned to ask, she was also afraid of the ramifications. Luca was, after all, just a kid. A kid with a very unique ability, sure, but he didn't deserve to be locked up in some mad wizard's laboratory. It wasn't just unselfish worry for his wellbeing either, she had to admit, as during the last few days his abilities had become quite useful. Being able to all but rule randomness out of your life had plenty of advantages – even before she was a fucking millionaire.

There was no doubt the others would have seen this too, already. It didn't really matter, even divided among them, it was more money than she had ever imagined having. Lottery was a common pastime among the people he grew up with: poor farmers who had exploitative contracts with multinational corporations. It was the only way out. Well, not counting contracting magic, but they was a fucked up lottery ticket of its own. Some of the women whe would share the fortune with definitely deserved it, others maybe less so, as they already led lives of plentiful wealth. Still, for Rafaela it offered means of escaping the cluth of her parents.

The best thing about it was that it was completely untraceable. As long as they didn't start more raffles and lotteries, no one would be able to figure out magic was involved. It was just a random fluke that just happened to happen to a person with some magical abilities of her own.

She looked at Luca, who was reading a comic book, seemingly completely unaware of the windfall that had just hit them. Did he even understand what was going on? What his abilities were? She wondered how young he had been when the Blood Ritual had been performed. It would probably kill anyone less than at least four or five years of age. Or rather, the onset of magical abilities would. The ritual itself was mostly harmless to the recipient, but turns out, the human body isn't very good at handling a magic carrying virus. The fever alone would last for two weeks.

"How did you get your magic?" she asked. It may have been the beer talking. Not that she wasn't actually interested, but she knew that the boy wasn't too keen on sharing anything about his life before the undead mall experience.

He looked up from the comic book and shrugged.

"You must remember."

"I'm… just what I am," he said, with a look that signalled complete honesty.

She sighed. "What would you like to be?"

This time, his eyes lit up in a way she had not seen before. "What would I like?"

"Well, yeah, but also… uh, like in the future. What are your goals in life?"

He considered that weirdly long. Everyone knew what they wanted to be since early childhood. Maybe they didn't have a realistic idea, but that didn't hit them until the tweens. Luca looked a bit too young to be conflicted about his life goals. "I– I want ice cream."

As far as Azucena considered, that was a real and proper child answer. In any case, she had to get up and get some things done.

"Alright then, let's get you some."

The boy's eyes lit up like she had never seen before. "Really?"

Azucena nodded. "Uh-huh, there's a supermarket just down the street and then we can go to meet a very nice friend of mine."

The kid pranced. Literally fucking pranced to the door. Even though he calmed down as they went down the stairs and to the street, she was feeling more and more anxious. Whoever had performed the Blood Ritual might still be looking for the boy. You didn't do that and just let someone go. He was part of some community, and she was not entirely sure they would just have let him go.

She also noted that as they entered the store, he seemed quite lost. As eager as he had been for the ice cream, he didn't immediately rush for the freezers.

"This many options?!" he said with some very unnatural excitement as Azucena led him to the freezers. It wasn't even that big of a store, they didn't have a particularly broad assortment of ice cream. They had the usual favourites – with one or two local delicacies.

"Pick whatever you want!" Azucena said.

Luca carefully weighed his options. He asked, multiple times, how each taste compared to another, and Azucena had to go to surprisingly simple flavours to explain everything to him. He eyed a peanut and chocolate flavoured one with great suspicion, until moving onto a vanilla and mango, which he summarily dismissed. It was, in the end, the coconut and strawberry that he judged worthy of his consumption. He offered it to Azucena like it was a relic of greatest holiness.

"You like coconut?" she asked. Everyone loved strawberries, so asking about that would have been a moot point.

He smiled and nodded. "I love coconut milk!"

Azucena smiled. That was, at least, something relatively normal to hear from a child. She proceeded to pay for the ice cream at the counter and left the store with a very happy boy. By the time they had reached the Rack and Lantern, he was just about done with his treat and mouth covered in ice cream.

She entered the pub and was immediately greeted by a familiar face. Roberto didn't own the bar, she wasn't even sure who did, but he was the only employee and basically acted like he did.

"Hey, Azucena. Long time! But does your friend have ID?"

Azucena rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Rob, he's just a kid!"

"He's like, at least a teen!"

Azucena shrugged. "He's twelve. That's a child, right?"

Roberto exhaled in frustration. "That's a pre-teen – a tween, or whatever. He's not a child anymore, I get kids even younger than him trying to get in all the time."

She looked at the boy. He… did look a bit older than a child, but his demeanor and behaviour seemed like those of a much younger adolescent. Was that a side effect of the Blood Ritual? Magic did a number on your body and people who contracted it – at least the lucky ones who didn't die a horrible violent death – lived unnaturally long lives. It would make sense that development in children who were infected would be slowed. But how young must he have been? Under school age? The thought sent shivers down her spine. She had been in her early twenties and it had been an ordeal she had barely survived, even at the peak of her physical condition.

Some likened it to giving birth, but she had no experience of that – and never would. The Corrupted could not survive a pregnancy, nor would their child. The child would develop magic from inception and with no training to control their power, end up blowing up themselves and the mother. It was also why the witch burners were always so keen on banning abortion rights. It gave them a nice hands-off way to deal with a good portion of Corrupted birth-givers. Though historically, it had mostly driven most of the magic-infected into same sex relationships. And, yeah, that explained that other thing they hated too. Of course, the part of the conservative movement who were even aware that magic existed was miniscule – the rest were in it for the sheer joy of tormenting other people.

"Can I get a lemonade?" Luca asked with a bright smile.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"See," Azucena said, "he doesn't even want alcohol."

I'm not sure he even knows what alcohol is.

The bartender sighed. "Fine. It's not like there's anyone else here anyway."

She flashed him a smile. "Thank you! I'll be in the backroom," she said and went to the door behind the bar.

"Of course you will," Roberto replied rolling his eyes.

* * *

Heinz crouched out his tent and took a deep breath. It was a nice morning in the forest of Schwarzwald. Dew was still dripping from the leaves and the gentle breeze brought the temperature down to comfortable levels. He could see the town below, and barely make out the people going on with their mornings. If not for the gaping hole in the large building that had been a hospital reminding him of the events of couple of decades back, it would have been a very soothing sight.

He put on his tweed jacket, collected the rest of his belonging from the tent and placed his backpack in the basket behind the seat of the bike. He then carefully unassembled and folded the tent, and attached it on the side of bike. The remains of the fireplace surrounded with rocks were the only reminder left behind of his two week stay at this spot. It had been a productive expedition, he had written three full notebooks of various ideas, observations and sometimes even poems. Heinz always did the thinking part of his writing in the forest. It was his holy place.

He was, also, conducting a very long form study about magical properties of trees. It had begun centuries ago by a cabal of South German bushmages, and would be ongoing long after Heinz was gone. The trees were not in any sort of hurry, so neither should the scholars be. And even if the modern world was not as hectic as the turn of the millennium, conducting the sturdy was still a fresh change of pace from the rhythm humans lived their lives.

But, alas, he could not stay in the old woods forever, and it was time to return to the so-called civilisation. He jumped on his bike and started to pedal.

There weren't many people out. There weren't too many people, in general, even though southern Germany was a climate goldilocks zone, it had been hit pretty badly with the other cataclysmic events. Whole of Europe's population had declined so drastically that there wasn't anyone left to populate everything. Birth rates had been climbing slowly in the last few years, but there was no baby boom like after the 20th century wars. People were still distrustful of the future, and of course, contraception was more readily available than a century ago.

Heinz appreciated the calm, but worried about the implications of the slower than expected degree of repopulation. He was a natural optimist, and even after what had happened – with the near collapse of civilisation and the Necromancer and everything – he believed that things were truly looking up, right now. Safeguards were needed, of course, to prevent the worst of humanity taking power yet again, but as he saw it, after every catastrophe, people had been better educated and prepared for the evils that festered beneath the facade of mankind.

Of course, he was not able to procreate. It would be a double homicide. But others…

He was interrupted from his reverie by a man waving at him. He smiled and waved back to Muhammad, the man who most referred to as the teacher, but he was more of a general babysitter and educator. The population was low, so there was no need for a proper school, but parents still needed to work or tend to matters during the days so… enter Muhammad, the without a doubt most appreciated person in the town.

Heinz slowed down and jumped off the bike. Muhammed flashed him as smile and a brief, but affectionate hug. "Hey!", he exclaimed. "When will the kids see their favourite teacher again?"

"Don't they see you every day?" Heinz grinned.

"Haha, no, I'm not the one who can tell them about magic and adventures!" the big man laughed. "I'm just a guy who looks after kids in a village, while you, my friend, are a honest-to-good hero!"

Heinz could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. "Ah, come on, I'm nothing more than a scholar… It was the others…"

"Always so meek, as befits a real hero!"

"You're making me blush."

"I know, I know. It's so fun!"

The scholar groaned. "Oh, come on!"

"Alright, alright," the teacher boomed. "Now, there's a call for you at the gasthaus."

"Ohh. Why didn't you start with that?" Heinz said.

"And not see your cute rosy cheeks? Why would I do that."

"You, Muhammed, are the most evil good guy there is!"

"Loving every minute of it."

In the end, Heinz could not help but smile. He was not generally too comfortable with such extremely extroverted people as Muhammed, but the man was absolutely unarming. Like everyone, Muhammed had seen much to his young age. Lost everything.

Heinz bid goodbye to the big man and quickly rode the downhill to the town's only gasthaus. It didn't even have a name. It once did, he knew, when there had been many more establishments like it.

He went in and nodded at Gertrude who was carrying barrels of beer from the backroom. She motioned with her head towards the communications room. He rushed through the door into a small windowless space mostly filled with a single computer, couple of screen and a collection of peripherals. He got the amulet from the drawer and put it on.

The computer whirred as it began to load its operating system. Text flashed through the screen, until a picture of an emu appeared. Heinz didn't know who had set the picture, but apparently it had become a very fond sight amongst the townspeople. It was called Merkel, as some sort of a political joke, he assumed.

He clicked on some icons meticulously and waited again. A familiar face appeared on the screen. A familiar, but unexpected.

"Oh, don't look so fucking shocked, Heinz", said Azucela, presumably from the other side of the world.

"Uhh, sorry! I just wasn't expecting hearing from you."

"A friend can't call to ask how you're doing?" Azucena said with a bitter edge to her voice.

Heinz sighed. Not exactly a friend, but… "Could't reach anyone else?"

"I could barely reach you. How's the forest?"

He couldn't but smile. "Oh! Amazing! Kiko was right, you know, about the thaumic veins in the tree roots!"

The latina's picture on the screen snorted. "I never listened to a word he said. Ok, tried once, fell asleep."

"You'd make an excellent scholar, Azu. We sleep all the time."

"I'm sure you do, but I actually did have a reason to call you."

"Well, colour me surprised, this wasn't a social call after all?" He was tempted to just close the window, but he was also intrigued. Even though she had never really admitted it, he had gotten a feeling she did not like him too much. If she called him, it had to be important. "What is it then?"

She sighed in relief. Maybe she had been expecting him to hang up, too? "I met one of the apprentices recently. Not just met, fought."

An uneasy feeling crept up Heinz's throat. "Oh my god, are you ok?"

She nodded quickly. "He wasn't much of a fighter, fortunately."

"What happened to him?"

"I… dealt with it. Don't worry, he's not going go cause any trouble. But… what if there are others? More powerful ones? Should I expect retaliation?"

Heinz considered this. The Necromancer had had a whole class' worth of followers, each infected with magic. Some before meeting him, some after. Some even from him. As far as he knew, most of them never got too far with their education, and at least two of the eldest ones had been killed in the aftermath. But the others? It had been a while, for sure, and if they had found new mentors, they could be powerful already…

He wanted to choose his words carefully, as to not scare the woman too much. "It's possible they had been in contact, but I have no information of them organising again. Most probably, it's very rare and sporadic. But, that said, I'd definitely keep my eyes open, going forward."

She nodded slowly. "Should we do something about them?"

He was not surprised she asked this. Out of their little coven, Azucena had always the one who had been the most… obsessed with the Necromancer. And while the others had more or less moved on, she had taken to hunting down every last undead raised by the evil overlord. He had not been too worried about the residue dead, as the magic would run out eventually, and they were relatively harmless without someone to lead them. He was about to take the same stance to the apprentices, but something occurred to him.

"Was the apprentice with the undead?"

She nodded.

"How many are left? Could one of them actually manage to assemble some kind of a horde?"

She looked down. "I… doubt it. But it's hard to say. But they could be up to something else."

Then, he surmised, wherever they were, the local cabals would deal with them. Even with the civilization collapsing, the Corrupted had maintained their enforcement of rules. No one wanted a new witch hunt, or a new Necromancer. "I'll look into it," he said affirmingly.

She smiled weakly. "Thank you," she said and then hesitated for a moment.

"Was there something else?" he asked.

Another uncertain expression. "N-no. That was everything. But let's keep in touch!" she said quickly and then disappeared.

He was not the most talented with people and often struggled with reading social situations, but even he could tell there was something big on her mind. Bigger than the apprentices. Big enough to keep secret from him. He was intrigued, but knew there was absolutely nothing, short of flying to Brazil, that he could do about it. The least he could do was look into the apprentices and use that as an excuse to stay in contact. And he knew exactly where to start looking.

* * *

Fernanda fell down into the bed. It was the softest bed she had ever lied on, it was like resting on clouds – weightless. It embraced her body, but still firmly supported her back. Was this how rich people slept? It was amazing. This was probably why they had so much energy to, well, be rich, they slept so well. She kind of wished she could go to sleep already, but the sun had not even set yet and she hadn't even put on the sheets.

She had not lied there even a minute when Azucena stepped through the door. She grinned. "Enjoying the bed?"

"It's fucking heaven, I tell you."

"Yeah, I got many two days ago. I had no idea you could have beds like this. It's crazy!"

"Right?!" Fernanda exclaimed. They both laughed. She had to periodically remind herself not to trust the weird witch, but it was getting harder and harder the past few days. She had not only kept her promise about sharing the lottery money, but actively helped her get on her feet. She had gotten her this new apartment, bigger than any she could ever have imagined, by pulling some strings or whatever magic bullshit she had done. Fernanda didn't really care, as long as she had her tall windows, air conditioning and this unbelievably comfortable bed.

And then there was Luca. Fernanda was all but certain the woman who had saved them had no idea what to do with the boy. If she was completely honest, neither did Fernanda. She was seventeen. She hadn't even thought about kids yet. In her situation – or rather, her previous situation – you didn't really think about family. Her mother hadn't either and, well, these things happened. She didn't want that for herself. Of course, the money had changed everything.

"Get up," shouted the voice from the living room. "We're going."

Fernanda shot up. "Going? Where?"

"I don't know. I was thinking of just randomly going somewhere, but asking Luca where it was going to be."

"Like throw a dart at a map?" Fernanda enquired and walked through the door, putting on her shirt.

"I only have this stupid tourist map that came with the apartment," Azucena said and waived the flyer they had found after moving in. Apparently, the place had been a short-term rental before all that was outlawed.

"All and good, but do we have darts?"

"Would we be so lucky that they had left darts in here?" Azucena said to Luca with a sly smile.

He looked up from his comic book and smiled. "The top drawer in the– the big room on the other side."

She felt him. She didn't know what to call all these rooms either. Obviously, they couldn't all be bedrooms. Drawing room? She had heard the had those in the old world. For arts, she assumed.

There were indeed darts in the, uh, drawing room drawer. She thought she had already checked all the drawer, but it was a big apartment. The ended up driving to the edge of the city. There was a museum there, and there was a raffle. They won plushies. They knew to be careful with Luca's abilities, but this was just a small museum. It's not like it was illegal.

There might have been some other "strokes of luck" that day, and the coming days. Hey, they had a reall ass fortune teller, could you really blame them?

Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

Detective Souza frowned. "Can you repeat that?"

The clerk shrugged. "There were these girls, like a real harem, five of them and a weird boy and then the boy knew the graffiti and, uh, just picked the scratch-off."

"And how was the boy weird?"

"I don't know, the girls were kind of fighting about him. He knew things, I think. Like, saw dead people or something."

She had a mild headache. She always got one with these types of cases. It's not like she was a police detective, or even an insurance one. No, she was more like a private eye, but less cool, a hired freelancer to come solve problems other people didn't want to waste their time on. It paid her rent, that was cool, of course, but sometimes… it was just so clear that what she was "investigating" was someone trying to cover up a stupid mistake they had made.

This case was about a non-existend scratch-off victory. It had only been picked up after it had been paid, and before they could demand the money back, they had to make sure they had not made a mistake. But scratch-offs don't just appear from the void and the ticket ID had passed all the checks. It was clearly and error on their part. Someone had fucked up and was now trying to pin it on someone, anyone.

"Can you show me the graffiti?" she said. She didn't really expect a restroom doodle to solve anything, but she had to do something to earn her pay.

He took her to the back and to the dirty…

Holy fuck!

That…

That was the Eye of Gail. Shit. Fuck. She had to report this immediately.

"Sir, we have a lead on Luca."