Obviously, the best of society didn't live in the sewers. Much less in the deepest zones where we were adventuring to. Yaasir had a mischievous smile on his face, maybe because of my hesitant steps or maybe because he has expecting something to happen. Either case, I was sure we would find the worst that society had to offer.

“This won't be a child's game,” he warned me. “We will be visiting dangerous people, old friends we could say. Although, I doubt they will offer me any Ink. Which means-”

“I will have to do whatever they ask,” I finished his phrase.

“Yes, you will have to work for it. That is, if you somehow convince them to offer any. Trust me, it will be dangerous,” he quietly added before placing his fingers in front of his mouth, silently asking me to be quiet.

We were about to enter one of those places my mother always told me not to go. No matter how desperate I was, how dire the situation looked, nothing good would happen after going there. Maybe she was right all along, and maybe I should have never followed Yaasir there. What I know is, that for good or for bad, I was there and I had to do it. The experience shaped me. I am who I am, partly, because of that. And if I could somehow redo the choice, if I could speak to my younger self, I would do it again.

I was keeping track of our movements, recording how long we moved in a straight line before taking a turn. Ten seconds straight into the right. Twenty-one and left. Left again after eleven seconds. Left again after sixteen second. Six straight and left. Twenty-five and… left?

We were going in circles around the same position. It happened once, twice, and even thrice that we retraced out steps in what seemed endless loops. I kept counting them, at some points starting to doubt if either my senses or my sanity were failing me.

My first and immediate reaction was thinking that we were trying to lose someone on our track, confusing him by basically not moving from a single place. But that didn't make sense, first of all, there was a significant risk of bumping into them away, and second, couldn't Yaasir just take them out? I had not seen him fight, but going by all I knew it should have been a piece of cake.

Then, the other options was that Yaasir was indeed trying to confuse someone, just that the someone in particular was me. I thought of all the motives behind such a move, and while it was true that there might not be true trust between ourselves, I could not figure out how that would explain hiding the path from me. A path whose end I didn't even know. Not being able to quite piece it together, I choice to wait.

Thankfully, that was the right call. If I had questioned him, I would probably just have betrayed whatever trust there was. We were going in circles, at least if you only focused on our move patterns. However, I soon started to feel differences in the air; dense, packed with stagnant air that hadn't moved in hours or days. How that could be, given that we weren't moving from place, was beyond my knowledge.

“Yaasir,” I tentatively started, “what’s happening here?”

“That should be rather obvious, we are moving towards our objective” he cheerfully pointed out. “Or is it perhaps this,” his hand with a single finger sticking out moved in circles, that is confusing you?“

I nodded, waiting for him to continue his explanation.

“There’s this misconception, purposely manipulated of course, that Ink is only useful on skin. After all, how would a piece of paper materialize it's drawing?”

“It… won't?” I ventured, feeling my beliefs and knowledge challenged already.

“It won't. You need to actually will it to make the object come back to reality. And, no surprises involved, paper is not capable of thought. But what if it does not need to materialize?”

I stopped walking as the impact of his words settled in. I had thought of Ink as something that captures objects and lets you released them back, and suddenly that might only be part of the truth.

“I would hope you read the Way of the Ink? Who is it that holds the ability, the power, or even the magic? You?”

“The Ink,” I unceremoniously answered. That much was clear, it was engraved in me since the first moment I used Ink. And, even then, I had never questioned the fact that paper seemed not to matter. That Ink only made sense in skin.

“Have you ever thought that formations don't necessarily need to strengthen a drawing?“

“But, none of the books I've read mention it?”

“Are you even listening?” He stopped to look back at me, still standing in place. “Purposely manipulated. You are studying the new ways. Come on.”

He signalled for me to continue walking, and I did, but I refused to let go of the topic so easily.

“But then, the olds ways?” I left the question lingering in the air.

“They can, by themselves, act on the world, shape reality.”

“Shape reality,” the whispered phrase exited my absentmindedly body. “Ga’ar.”

That's what I was missing, the final piece to construct the puzzle. Ga'ar meant acting beyond the skin, being able to use the world as your canvas. It was not a small part that I was yet missing, rather I had only scratched the surface of it all.

Like dominoes, my beliefs were falling one after the other. It all started to make sense. The hideout and its secret mechanism. The Way of the Ink and my lacking understanding according to Spare. This whole labyrinth of concentric rooms that couldn't be seen with the eyes. The r-

“Ah!” I exclaimed as I bumped into Yaasir, who had stopped without me even realizing.

“What do you see here?” He was pointing towards the floor.

I focused my sight, trying to discern what he wanted me to see. Rubble, some bigger stones, and dusty sand all over the place. I crouched, hoping that being closer to it would help, and when it did not, I tried blowing all the dirt away. Lines-no, glyphs. Using my hand as a brush, too impatient to blow away what remained, I revealed the rest of the drawing.

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Intriguing. It was done with the worst Ink one could possibly obtain, a mixture of the lowest quality Inks, similar to the small flask I gathered when doing jobs for the association. Surely, it required re-drawing every few days, probably less given that people stepped on it. And, whoever drew it, wanted to make it inconspicuous, somewhat one with the environment.

Ink quality had, however, nothing to do with the actual knowledge contained within the formation. I could barely distinguish a few glyphs—the very few that were written in the new ways—that talked about concealing and hiding. Not enough to form a complete idea of the formation’s purpose, but certainly sufficient for me to hypothesise. I suspected it was a simple as a door that connected two corridors, but as complex as making a person materialize somewhere else. If anything, I was completely sure it was the work of a Ga'ar; any less than that would not cut it.

There was something I had to ask, something that squeaked and creaked on the back of my mind. It didn't make any sense, did it?

“All Ga'rar know the old ways?” I saw Yaasir nod, far from enthusiastically. “But they are forbidden?”

“Who do you think gives us the name of Ga'rar? It is not a title, it’s a cage, a prison cell that doesn't allow us to fly any higher. Come now, your questions can wait.” Normally, Yaasir would let me get to the bottom of it, yet there was a touch of amusement in his voice that I hadn't heard of before. “Isn't that right, lads?”

I turned both sides, quickly taking all my surroundings in. Yaasir was beyond relaxed, but I was not at his level, so I quickly jumped into the position that he had drilled down on my head. I refrained from invoking my daggers just yet. I wasn't trying to take them by surprise when I did invoke them, as I don't even think I could achieve it. Rather, I tried to avoid raising any more unwanted tension.

“Business?” A sharp feminine voice, with lethal connotations, came out from the shadows I had just checked a moment ago. Whoever or whatever it was, invisible to my eyes until that very moment.

“We're visiting my friends at the Congregation of-” a whistling arrow passed right next to me, darting from where the feminine voice had been and interrupting Yaasir. “Mmh, lovely.”

It took me a few seconds to react and notice that it was not an arrow that they threw, but rather a sharp and thin blade. Yassir was spinning it on his fingers, almost as if he didn't care that he had just been attacked. Almost being the most important word here.

“Look,” my hairs stood on its end as soon as the almost guttural word exited from Yaasir, “I am here to get some real experience for my student. If that real experience is you, so shall be it.”

Silence. For the next few seconds the tunnel became quiet. No one moved, not a single other word was spoken.

“I guessed as much. Tarar, let's go.”

We walked in circles once more, the air dancing from an unnatural freshness to stalled humidity. I waited for a few minutes with questions burning in my mind, until I could no longer hold it.

“I don't understand it, Yaasir.” He turned to look at me, which I interpreted meant I could go on. “Ga’ar is not a title… do they control you?”

“Not directly,” he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a complex formation that I couldn't even begin to comprehend. “They can hear and see, if they want. Certain things, they get immediately knowledgeable of. Not everyone has the same degree of, let's say surveillance; it all depends on which role you play in their big scheme.”

“And Spare?” I immediately asked.

“Spare took a big risk. Teaching the old ways would get him killed, though you could try to argue that he did not. The rest, it should be fine considering he works for a noble house and took you as an apprentice.”

“You fight for the Empire, don't you? Is that why they have you under tighter terms?“ He nodded while hiding again his arm. ”Then how is it that you know these kind of places? It's almost as if the Empire does not care about the shady stuff going on here.“

“Balance.” He said, for a moment making me belief that he wouldn't elaborate any more than that. “An evil can be replaced by a greater evil, and this one they have in check, so they let it live. Do you think the Empire always acts upfront and with dignity? This is a snakes den, both Empire and otherwise. And, at its head, there is a Ga’ar.“

The Empire is corrupt and doing shady stuff, that much is obvious. As is the control they want to excerpt over the old ways. I didn't know yet if banning the old ways was a good call or not, but I certainly didn't need that answer to know that I didn't care, that I would eventually explore and learn them.

“I already told you we are visiting old friends, so obviously I was one of them; these are my roots, my origin. That does not mean we are on best terms, so watch out.”

And so I did. At all moments, I couldn't shake away the feeling of being followed; which we probably were. Either way, it didn't take so long until the sounds of civilization could be heard. The corridor we were following ended in a show of lights and shadows. People that I could not yet see moved around. There were sounds of metal and the smell of food being cooked permeated the air. It had been a while since I had eaten anything half decent, which my stomach loudly let me know.

Bright! Was my first thought after we exited into a big plaza filled with stalls. It wasn't as busy as the shadows had let me to believe, but it didn't feel like we were in the sewers anymore. Yaasir went straight through the plaza, not stopping for any of the people or the stalls. I was serious when I said I wanted to pull my own weight, so I wasn't about to indulge me into fancy food—or make him pay for it, for that matter. Even if it was only fancy for the standards that reigned down there, of course.

We walked past many houses embed in the rock, carved from the nature itself. Wearing black robes from head to toes, the dwellers of those sites were carrying normal life. It was hard to believe we were not above the ground, visiting one of the secluded neighbourhoods surrounding the sewers.

Our steps brought us to the biggest building around, three stories high if one had to trust the confusing architecture that dominated around, and wide enough to house a few dozens people. It wasn't particularly lavish, perhaps the rock was whiter than what we had seen before, but everything else was quite the same.

We went inside without asking for permission or knocking any door. I was sure they knew we were there, so maybe it didn't matter, but it still felt wrong intruding like that. The building was devoid of anything reassembling living chambers. Rather, it was composed out of big rooms with big empty spaces which connected one to another through open arches. I followed after Yaasir, who perfectly navigated deeper into the rooms system.

Eventually, we found what was probably the mess room. A long table, long enough to fit 20 people per side, was the only decoration aside from the respective 20 chairs. There was a single figure, lone and bulging over the chair. Immobile, he seemed to be lost in thought until his mouth opened.

“What brings you here, Yaasir? Is he a candidate?” His radioactive white teeth menaced in what was supposed to be a smile.

“Tarar, student of Spare and mine, is not one of your play toys.” Yaasir calmly replied.

“Hoh? And what is it that you seek here?”

“To earn my own weight,” I declared and immediately repented as the chair went flying across the room and smashed against the wall as a roar erupted from that man's belly.

“You dare bring that,” his eyes popped from his sockets as a dirty finger pointed at me, “and pretend me to freely offer him a job?”

“He is capable of mo-”

“So he is?” The man interrupted Yaasir with another roar. “Valana, let him prove his worth.”

“Horas!” Yaasir shouted even before the man, Horas, had finished speaking. “You perfectly know Valana is way out his league! Stop this madness be-”

“Madness? You come to my house uninvited! You bring your own student with you! And you dare ask me to give him a job! That is madness! Valana!”

I caught a gust on my right, something moving out of my sight and into a blind spot.

“Horas,” the deadly whisper of acknowledgement floated on the air.

I am dead.