Ari yawned, her hands gently rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had not slept well that night—the unfamiliar luxury of the mansion kept her mind alert, denying her the chance for a proper rest. The bed, with its overly plush mattress, felt excessively indulgent, and the vastness of the bedroom only added to her discomfort. The tall windows stretched from floor to ceiling, allowing the soft glow of the twin moons to bathe the room in their serene, silver light. Its brightness outlined the soft contours and jagged edges of the lavish furniture, casting long, mysterious shadows across the walls. Yet, the mellow moonlight concealed the finer details, leaving much to the imagination in this massive room, which alone was larger than her family’s entire flat.

Nestling deeper into the warmth of the thick quilt, Ari tried to find solace in its embrace. Despite Ria’s presence beside her, the sheer size of the room left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, as if she were sleeping under an open, starless sky.

Throughout the night, she woke repeatedly, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger, real or imagined, lurking in the shadows. Each creak and whisper of the mansion seemed magnified in the stillness, further fueling her restlessness.

When dawn finally broke, Ari greeted it with relief. The new day brought a welcome respite, especially as Ria, perhaps mindful of the previous evening’s dinner, proposed they sneak out of the mansion for breakfast at the Academy’s canteen.

Executing their plan with ease, they left the mansion unnoticed and savored a meal at the canteen. Having their hunger satisfied, they returned to their dormitory room, carrying a bag brimming with freshly baked goods they had pilfered on their way out—a small trophy from their morning adventure.

Upon entering the bedroom, they stopped, taken aback. Someone was there, sitting on the bunk beneath the window. For a long, tense minute, the room was steeped in silence, the air thick with surprise. They scrutinized the unfamiliar boy, taking in his short black hair and slender frame, slightly taller than Ari’s. His slimness gave him an almost fragile appearance.

“So?” Ria finally broke the silence.

The boy met her eyes, but said nothing, his face unreadable as if carved in stone—not a single muscle betraying his emotions.

“What are you doing in our bedroom? Are you an adept? A servant? A messenger? Do you have a message from my father? Why are you still sitting?” Ria’s questions cascaded like a torrent, each one layered atop the other before the boy could even attempt to answer. Not that he seemed to want to, remaining utterly motionless, his body not betraying a single hint of intent since their arrival.

Meanwhile, Ari cast a longing glance at her bed, yearning for the comfort it promised. However, Ria had already made it clear they had plans for the day. Plans that involved both of them, while none of these plans included resting.

“Are you deaf or something?” Ria’s voice rose, tinged with a trace of annoyance. Another silent second ticked by. “I order you to speak! Who are you?”

Finally, the boy’s stoic demeanor yielded, if only slightly, as he responded. “I’m Kiran. Please forgive me lady, but I’m just a townsfolk. I may not speak to the nobles.” He delivered his words with a careful, almost rehearsed caution, his expression still frustratingly unreadable.

“Ha? Are you adept or not? If you’re not, then get out of our apartments,” Ria said, her tone sharp.

“They told me to come here and take one of the free beds. I’m to live here,” he responded.

“So you’re an adept. Kiran. Kiran who?”

“Just Kiran. I have no family name, nor a family to claim one from,” he stated simply.

Ari watched his stone-like face, amazed. Every time he spoke, his voice remained constant—flat and devoid of any emotion, as if his feelings had been hollowed out.

“You’re poor. Good. That means they admitted you based on your merits alone.” Ria ignored the part about his family, her attention shifting to Ari. “I like him. Now, put the pretzels on the table, and let’s get going.”

Ari set down the snacks they had brought from the canteen and followed Ria, who was already striding towards the corridor.

Just as they reached the door, Ria paused and spun around. “You!” She shouted at Kiran. “What are you going to do? Sit there the whole day? Come with us. And don’t you dare spout some nonsense about nobility! If you’re an adept, then we’re all equals here.”

Kiran hesitated for a brief moment before rising to his feet and joining them. A flicker of amusement crossed Ari’s mind: it seemed she was not the only one constantly yielding to Ria’s command.

“And now behold: the library,” Ria announced with a flourish, extending her arm towards the grand wooden double doors. “This is one of my favourite places. Whenever my father had business at the Academy, he would leave me here. Come.”

Approaching the right wing of the door, she gently touched a metal plate engraved with the image of a book. The emblem glowed briefly under her fingers, activating a mechanism that silently swung the doors open, revealing to them a view of towering bookshelves filled with rows upon rows of countless volumes.

“We’re unlikely to encounter many people, given the holiday period. Still, we should keep our voices down. It’s a strict rule here not to create any disturbance.” Leading them inside, Ria glanced back at them with a smile. “I need to find one particular tome. Take a stroll around; maybe you’ll find something interesting. I’ll be back soon,” she said, before vanishing into the maze of shelves.

Ari stood gaping with her lips slightly parted, overwhelmed by the tremendous number of books in sight. Kiran, meanwhile, had already moved to a nearby shelf, examining the spines with keen interest, though he refrained from pulling any volumes out.

Wandering down the main aisle, Ari’s gaze flitted between the endless rows of tomes and the ornate gilded decorations above. The intricate artwork, depicting scenes from Tramiria’s last stand during the invasion, stretched up to the lofty, domed ceiling, creating a sense of awe and historical reverence in the hallowed space.

As she walked, she noticed the absence of any signs or labels to guide her through the labyrinth. Deciding to rely on chance, she picked an aisle at random, and followed along the bookshelf. An unfamiliar smell of old paper filled her nostrils. She breathed it in, savoring the sensation. It was not pleasant, yet it held a strange allure; as if, with every breath, she dived more and more into the past.

On a whim, she reached for a book with a rich carmine cover. The golden characters embossed on it shimmered in two unreadable lines of text, alien to her eyes. Flipping it open, she rifled through the pages only to confirm her suspicion: it was written in a foreign alphabet—not a single letter was familiar. With a nervous lick of her lips, she carefully placed the book back on the shelf.

A sense of unease took root in her mind as she browsed through several more books, each penned in an unfamiliar language. The unsettling thought that she might not be able to comprehend the texts of the nobility loomed over her. What implications would that have for her status at the Academy?

Driven by this growing anxiety, she hurried through the aisles, her eyes scanning the spines for any hint of a readable book. In her haste and nervousness, her hands trembled slightly. As she reached for another volume, her grip faltered. The book slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor with a resounding thud that shattered the library’s profound silence. Her heart pounded in her chest as she quickly glanced around, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and fear, hoping no one had noticed the disturbance.

At her current location, the bookshelves no longer enclosed her as tightly. Behind her, the space opened into a cozy sitting area, complete with inviting couches and a broad, low table. Seated on one of the couches, a young girl looked up from her book, her gaze landing on Ari.

“I’m sor—” Ari’s speech faltered at the sound of her hoarse voice. Realizing her mistake, she quickly switched to a whisper. “I am very sorry for the interruption,” she said, bowing her head to hide the flush blooming on her cheeks.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the girl whispered back, her tone friendly and reassuring. “Are you searching for something specific? This section is kind of my specialty.” A warm smile graced her lips, making Ari feel slightly more at ease.

“I… Ah, um.” Ari panicked, not knowing what to say. “Those letters… I can’t read the nobles’ script. I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “I was trying to find anything written in normal speech. Please, I’m very sorry for the disturbance,” she said, her sentences tumbling out in a rush one after another.

“Nobles’ script?” The girl appeared momentarily puzzled, then her eyes lit up in realization. “Oh, you mean the ancient alphabet?” Her laugh rang out, bright and unguarded, only to be quickly stifled as she remembered where they were. “Apologies for that. Why don’t you come and sit here?” She patted the spot next to her in an invitation. “You’re new, aren’t you? And from the way you talk about noblesse, I assume you’re not one yourself. But your clothes seem to be pretty expensive, so to be honest, I’m quite befuddled.”

Ari accepted the girl’s invitation and settled beside her on the couch.

“Um yes. My name is Ariella. I mean, please call me Ari. No one calls me by my full name. I’m from common people. This uniform was a gift.”

“Hoh, quite a gift you got there indeed,” the girl remarked, then quickly caught herself. “Oh, apologies for my lack of manners.” She stood up and offered a modest bow, her soft maroon curls cascading forward to briefly veil her face. “I’m Katherine. About to begin my third year at the Academy; my father is a merchant, which is why I called on your clothes. They seem to be of extraordinary quality. May I?” Without waiting for permission, she reached out and shamelessly caressed the fabric of Ari’s uniform. “Feels so delicate and intricate, it must have cost a fortune. It’s Ao woven, right?” she asked, her fingers lingering on the material.

“Y-yes, it is.” Ari balked at the questions about her uniform, uneasy, and took a chance to change the topic. “You mentioned something about the ancient alphabet?”

“Ah yes, you got my brain to freeze for a second with that ‘noble script’.” Katherine chuckled. “It’s a language that had been dead for a long time before the invasion. But for some reason, the scholars of the old adopted it and used it to write all their texts. Then, after the invasion, the emperor forbade writing in it to reduce entry level for new adepts, so you don’t even need to learn it, unless you want to study ancient volumes, like I do.” She winked. “To be honest, most of the knowledge was never translated, so I recommend learning at least basics.”

The relief surged through Ari. “That’s fascinating. And you can read it?” she asked, noticing the cover of the book Katherine held had the same exotic symbols.

“Yes, absolutely. I’ve chosen it as my specialty. And you were fortunate enough to wander into the ancient texts section,” Katherine said with a wry smile. “But don’t worry, if you know the common writing, you can read most of the books in the library,” she assured Ari before leaning closer. “Anyway, you moved in quickly. Are you from the capital? Sorry for intruding so much, but I can’t help myself. Your hair… You look like a Bandawi, but I thought they can’t use the Power. Did I get something wrong?”

Ari distanced her face from the curious gaze, and a few seconds passed in silence.

“Oh sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it, forget it. It’s just me being me. Forgive me,” Katherine said, sensing she might have overstepped.

“No.” Ari shook her head. “I think I need to get accustomed to that. I should expect more people asking questions like yours. And you’re right. I am Bandawi, but it seems I’m an exception to the rule. I know little myself. Everything is new to me,” she said, summoning a bleak smile.

“Oh, don’t you worry about anything. You’re here and that’s what’s important. Unless you don’t want to be here?” Katherine prodded carefully.

“No, no! I’m really glad to be here,” Ari replied, her words filled with an unexpected fervor that made her quickly clamp her mouth shut, realizing she had spoken louder than intended.

At that moment, Ria and Kiran appeared from among the shelves. “There you are. Found you at last,” Ria said. “I was hoping you’d stay somewhere close to the entrance, not venture into the deepest parts right away,” she continued.

Ari jumped to her feet, a touch of sheepishness in her voice. “Sorry. I got carried away a little.”

Katherine rose too, eyeing the newcomers. “Are those your squad-mates?” she asked.

Before Ari could say anything, Ria took the lead. “Yes, we are. I’m Ria Sarelli and this one here is just-Kiran.”

Kiran threw a sidelong glance at Ria but said nothing to such an introduction.

“Sarelli…” Katherine echoed under her breath. “I’m Katherine Tovaldo. Pleased to meet you.”

Ari noted the subtle shift in Katherine’s demeanor but could not decipher the reason.

“If we’re done here, let’s move on, Ari. We have more places to see today.” Ria approached Ari and grabbed her hand in the usual manner.

“Um, it was nice to meet you too,” Ari said to Katherine with an apologetic smile, while Ria dragged her away. As the sitting area faded from view, she glanced back one last time to see Katherine still standing there, watching them depart.

“Did you find the book you wanted?” Ari asked as they walked through the inner corridor or an enormous building. Far removed from its outer walls, their path was lit only by evenly spaced lightstones emitting a dim white glow. The cool ambience, intensified by the towering ceiling and dark, bare walls, sent chills up her spine. Every few steps, she could not help but glance over her shoulder, ensuring nothing lurked in the quiet hallway behind them.

“Yes,” Ria answered, not elaborating.

Puzzled, Ari looked at Ria’s empty hands. “So where is it?”

“I had it sent to our room, obviously,” Ria said. Then she tilted her head. “Why would I want to run around with a book in my hand?”

Ari fell silent. It was so simple, yet such a possibility did not occur to her at all. The convenience of having something delivered was a luxury she had never considered, accustomed as she was to fetching things herself or, more often, being the one sent on errands.

The end of the corridor mercifully spared her from having to respond. They stepped into a small hall with a glass cube dominating its center. The cube was easily twice their size and its inside was filled with sparse, grayish haze. Within this mist, long, thin threads shimmered briefly into view before vanishing like ghostly whispers. They floated through the air at a slow, almost meandering pace, never halting or bouncing off the glass walls. It was as if the cube was not a container, but a window, framing the threads’ fleeting dance as they wove in and out at their own pace.

Drawn to the captivating display, Ari stepped closer to read the inscription on the stone plaque beside the cube.

The cube contains particles weakly interacting with Ao threads. The interactions are non-binding and only cause visual phenomena, allowing observation of otherwise invisible filaments. All the colors are particle-dependent and are not an inherent characteristic of the threads.

Ari, entranced by the spectacle, reached out and pressed her palm against the glass where a cluster of Ao threads was escaping the cube. She expected to feel something, anything, but there was only the cool, smooth surface under her fingertips. With a soft smile, she watched countless more threads drift towards her, a surreal thought crossing her mind—there were thousands, perhaps more, weaving through her body at that very moment, yet utterly imperceptible outside the haze-filled cube. They weaved and danced in response to unseen forces, indifferent to the material world and each other alike. Mesmerized, Ari placed both hands on the glass, her eyes following the ever-shifting patterns.

“Boo! Come on! Wake up!” Ria’s voice jolted Ari back to reality as she nudged her playfully from the side.

Ari stumbled, momentarily thrown off balance. “What…?” she said, confused.

“How long are you going to stare at that? I know it’s nice, especially when you see it for the first time, but we need to move. I just spotted two people acting shady! Come.” Ria dragged Ari away from the cube, with Kiran following behind, his expression as unreadable as ever.

She led them to a large stairway and ducked behind the balustrade. “Look down there,” she whispered.

A floor below, two men stood in hushed conversation near the entrance to the undergrounds. Their gestures were animated, yet their voices were too low to discern. They glanced around furtively, as if wary of being observed.

“I see. And?” Ari asked, not fully grasping Ria’s concern.

“Just watch them,” Ria responded, her eyes glued to the men. After a few moments, she added, “See how they keep looking around? They’re acting like they don’t want to be seen.”

Ari remained unconvinced. The men’s behavior was odd, reminiscent of her days in the slums plotting mischief with other children, but she herself had been constantly vigilant in this place, simply because of its unsettling ambience.

The men must have made a decision, as they suddenly moved, disappearing from their view.

“We have to follow them!” Ria straightened, peeking past the balustrade.

“What? No. Why?” Ari looked at Ria, not following her logic.

“They’re shady. What if they’re spies sent by necromancers?” Ria’s eyes glistened with the thrill of the possibility.

“They’re not. And even if they were, why would you follow such dangerous people?”

“We need evidence!” Ria shouted, barely controlling herself.

Then it clicked in Ari’s mind. She recalled being warned that they were forbidden from entering the undergrounds. “You just want an excuse to go down there, don’t you? It has nothing to do with those men,” she accused Ria.

“No, you saw them. We need to confirm if we’re right before reporting anything. That’s all!” Ria retorted, her lips quivering slightly.

“When I was admitted today, they told me the undergrounds are off-limits. We can’t go there.” Kiran said, for the first time voicing his opinion, and yet, his face remained a mask of stillness.

Ria did not take that well, her reaction immediate and intense. She narrowed her eyes as she glared at them both and then stormed down the stairs. “Fine! Do whatever you want, cowards. I’m going to fulfill my duty as an adept and check it myself. Whether you’re coming with me or not!” she shouted back at them, pressing forward.

Ari, unsure, glanced at Kiran, but he only shrugged under her gaze. She pursed her lips, and after a moment, shrugged back.

*

Rick Orteves cursed the weather. Yesterday’s drizzle had grown stronger overnight, turning dirt roads into sludge. He glanced down at his brand new boots, now unrecognizable under the thick layer of mud obscuring their fine craftsmanship. The fortune he had paid for them, his entire savings, now seemed a foolish expense as he watched them succumb to the mire. (Would I ever be able to clean them?) he mused.

He grunted, discontented, and pressed ahead. Despite his annoyance, he had to admit the boots were worth their money. They clung snugly to his feet, impervious to the water that sought to seep in. And it mattered not if they were beyond salvation—soon he would be rich enough to afford the finest things the world offered, parading and flaunting his wealth in front of the other examiners. They would no longer dare to throw those pity looks at him. He might not have been a Great Mage, but it was now his turn to shine in life as fate had finally smiled upon him.

A little farther ahead, he encountered a partial obstruction in his path. Barrels, more than enough to block over half of the street, lay scattered about while half-naked workers bustled between them, a donkey-drawn cart, and a tavern. The men paid no heed to the weather, hurling the heavy load into the underground larder with an industrious fervor.

Rick cursed again at his usual luck. He had specifically chosen this route for its wideness, yet now he was forced to squeeze through the narrow opening left open. Even considering his size, the gap between the barrels and the wall was more than enough for him to pass, but this meant altering the protective bubble he had conjured around himself.

This transparent bubble, his shield against the rain, deflected the droplets seamlessly, guiding them earthward. He had shaped it into a perfect sphere—a design both power-efficient and easy to maintain. Additionally, he had truncated the sphere just below his knees to prevent interactions with the ground.

Now, with the path obstructed, Rick faced a dilemma. The bubble, in its current form, was too broad. It would collide with the barrels, either halting him in his tracks, damaging the barrels, or simply collapsing on itself. The outcome depended on the type of energy he was using to sustain the bubble, and neither outcome was desirable. He had two choices to avoid collision: reshape the bubble into a slimmer, ovoid form to squeeze through the gap, or adjust it into a dome that would extend only to his shoulder, allowing it to glide over the obstacles.

He opted for the latter, reasoning that the upkeep of a non-standard form required too much concentration—a single misstep could cause his whole protection to crumble.

As he watched the barrier shrunk, raindrops began to pelt his palms. To shelter them, he drew his arms close to his chest. His upper body was safe from the downpour, but there was little he could do about his quickly soaking trousers.

Rick hastened his steps, eager to navigate past the clutter of barrels. Once he cleared the obstruction, a junction opened before him where a narrower side alley veered to the left. Turning into it, he readjusted his protective bubble to its original size, his hands dropping to his sides as he exhaled a sigh of relief.

The alley, though more confined, was free of obstacles. As he strolled along, his eyes fell upon a beggar nestled in an alcove. The beggar’s gaze was vacant, offering only an idle stare.

A smile crept onto Rick’s lips—even considering all the bad luck he had been complaining about, he still had a pretty easygoing life. He had never faced the struggle of poverty, always having food on his table and a roof over his head, always enjoying privileges that many, like the beggar he just passed, were not afforded. This realization warmed his heart, instilling a fuzzy feeling of contentment. His life was on an upward trajectory, and his plans were unfolding as intended. All he needed to do is to play his cards right.

The previous night’s events, although harrowing, had proved to be a stroke of incredible fortune. The king had promised him a substantial reward and a prestigious status for merely delaying an announcement by a single day and helping to frame the issue in a positive light.

He did not envy the king; the situation was truly tragic. His very own daughter was a Death mage. Rick shivered with the recollection—the princess’s Power was immense; she might very well be the first Great Mage he had uncovered. Under normal circumstances, such a discovery would merit a reward from the Academy. But now, his task would be to escort her back for the necessary neutering procedure.

Absorbed in his daydream, Rick paid little attention to the subtle feedback provided by the area of control effect that he exerted on his surroundings. A faint tingle at the edge of his consciousness went unnoticed until it was too late. His brows furrowed as he tried to focus on the source of the sensation, lamenting internally his failure to master the acceleration technique. It would be an indispensable help in situations like this, when he needed a few more precious moments to think.

But he had them not. Suddenly, he felt as if he was falling.

His vision blurred, and in a split second, his face plunged into the muddy water of the alley. Half of his face remained submerged, while the other half stared in astonishment at the soles of his own boots, now oddly positioned right before his very own eyes.

(They may be dirty, but they’re worth every coin. Ah my precious, I’m so glad I bought you,) he mused as rain continued to pour over his head. Consciousness faded from him in a mixture of euphoria and bits of questioning logic. Something was wrong with the picture he was seeing, but he could not quite find what it was.

Hashet spat onto the rain-soaked ground as rivulets of water streamed down the line of his naked torso. Clad only in a loincloth, he took full advantage of his Power’s hydrophobic properties. The rainwater cascaded off his muscular body, never clinging to his skin, as if repelled by an invisible force.

A few meters ahead, a fat man skillfully wove through the puddles. Hashet’s lip curled in disgust. How could anyone do something like that to his own body? No sane person would willingly cripple themselves. On the steppe, there were no fat people, and Hashet still remembered the shock when he saw one for the first time. It seemed it was the cities that produced them. Living idly, with a never-ending supply of food, made some grow sideways.

The plump man was an examiner, but not a Great Mage. Hashet spat again. The humiliation of not being chosen as an adept struck him once more. He was sure he had enough Power. In the past years, he had seen many weaker than him receive Academy’s blessing. It was a rotten organization caring only about profit. But Hashet no longer sought their validation; he trod his own path now.

The man he was tailing squeezed through a narrow space between a wall and a cluster of barrels, then turned into one of the diverging alleys, disappearing from Hashet’s sight. Hashet followed in the examiner’s wake, moving along the workers unloading the cargo. They were focused on their job, their eyes following their hands as they rolled one load after another; they cared little about shadows dashing through the mizzle’s veil.

Hashet quickened his pace, determined not to lose sight of his target. The narrow pathway he entered was perfect—devoid of junk littering the ground and flanked by tall walls on both sides. No need to waste more time. He sped up.

As he sprinted, he glimpsed a person huddled in a dark alcove out of the very corner of his eye. He turned his head for a clearer view, knowing it was a distraction that could result in a fatal outcome. Once you committed to the final execution of your operation, there was no going back—no new variable should affect your commitment. But his will still wavered, unable to ignore the stranger’s presence.

His tension eased as he realized it was just a beggar seeking shelter from the rain. The emaciated man’s gaze briefly met Hashet’s silhouette, lingering on his clenched right fist. The flow of falling drops was irregular there, as if the rain was meeting an invisible obstacle. Hashet looked at the beggar’s face, aiming to establish eye contact, but the man ignored him. The beggar returned to staring blankly at the wall on the opposing side, as if he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

(Smart one,) Hashet mused.

He resumed his full attention to the target, narrowing the gap between them. When he was just a few steps behind the man’s back, he jumped onto the wall, and right after, he jumped again, using all his strength to leap even higher while bouncing off the wall.

It was a dangerous and stupid move. And he knew it. He hung for a second in the air, waiting for the fat man to inevitably turn around and blast him with his Power. There would be nothing Hashet could do—he no longer controlled his trajectory. In the back of his mind, he saw himself dying, but the rush of adrenaline as he waited for the fate’s dice roll was a temptation too strong to resist.

The world had spoken. Rick Orteves saw nothing. The concealed blade cut the examiner’s neck as easy as the rain slid through the air. That meant Hashet would live for another day. He barely felt any slowdown in his swing. The fat man’s head fell into the mud, while the rest of his body heaved backwards and hit the street on its back, splashing the murky puddles.

With his objective completed, Hashet seized the severed head with one hand, and with the other, he retrieved a bag from a hidden sachet at his waist. His trophy’s lifeless eyes stared into nothingness. The blood drops continued to fall as the head rotated back and forth, held only by its hair.

He stowed the proof of his work in the bag and surveyed the alley. The beggar remained fixated on the wall, unresponsive to the scene. Hashet considered for a moment whether to get rid of him as well, but in the end, it was never wise to cross the locals. It was better to have them on your side, and besides, he was certain there were more eyes watching him in that narrow passage. Let them decide what to do. His orders were for the fat man only.

He left the body to be found—explicit orders from the king. A missing examiner usually stirred a bigger commotion than a dead one, as others would start looking for him, and his majesty did not want them in his castle. At least, that was what he had said.

All things considered, it was not important. What was important was the second part of the job. His eyes shone in anticipation. The next target was the king’s own daughter. He was promised he could do whatever he wanted to her as long as he ensured no one would see her ever again. A recollection of her delicate face and soft golden hair popped into his mind, spilling heat over his body. He had spent all day on preparations, mixed with daydreaming about all the things he would do to her. As part of the arrangement, the building would be cleared tonight. No one would hear her screams.

*

Ari gazed at Ria’s back, but her thoughts were far away. The monotonous corridors of bare walls, twisting and turning endlessly, had long since dulled her interest. Fatigue weighed heavily on her as she trailed behind Ria in a weary, absent-minded procession.

A small orb in Ria’s control illuminated their path. It hovered in front of them, slightly above their heads, casting a feeble glow against the encroaching darkness that shrouded the hallways below the Academy. The shadows dancing on the edge of Ari’s vision used to quicken her pulse, but not anymore. All she wanted now was to leave already.

Her eyes closed, just for a moment. The footsteps of their trio echoed off the cold stone floor as they trudged forward. She could distinguish between them: light and nimble footsteps at the front belonged to Ria, while the heavier, more measured tread followed from behind, letting her know that Kiran was still with them. Lost in the rhythm of his steps, she failed to notice the sudden absence of sound ahead. A moment later, the collision jolted her back to reality, her eyes snapping open just in time to see Ria’s exasperated expression.

“What are you doing?” Ria’s voice held a hint of accusation.

Blinking in confusion, Ari saw Ria rubbing her arm where they had collided.

“You abruptly stopped. What did you expect?” Ari’s fatigue had worn down her patience, and a flicker of annoyance sparked within her. She was too tired to be meek, and she was here because of Ria. She squinted her eyes, giving her friend an ugly stare as the heat inside her continued to brew. “Haven’t we been here before? Are we walking in circles? Where are you leading us? We’ve seen no one since we came down here, let alone those men you were so eager to follow.”

The chamber they now stood in was a familiar one, its only occupant a narrow stairway leading upwards, into the darkness. They had passed through similar locations twice or thrice before, but the undergrounds’ repetitive nature made it impossible to assert whether they had already visited this exact place. The endless corridors offered no distinguishing features, only a relentless uniformity.

A delicate waft enveloped Ari, and she shuddered. The air down here was never still, but she had yet to see a single vent.

“I hear something,” Kiran said, stopping next to them, his face fixed on the way they had come from.

Ria, ready to shout at Ari about the importance of their mission, let out a weak squeak as her words halted in her throat. Together, they listened in silence for any sign of movement.

“I hear nothing,” Ria said after a long pause.

Kiran turned his head and frowned. “Someone’s coming this way. I’m sure.”

A quick survey of the chamber confirmed Ari’s fears; it was devoid of any hiding spots. They only had two choices: to either keep going or get caught.

“Stairs,” Kiran said, already approaching the stone steps.

Ari swallowed. A nervous glance at the entrance was the last nudge she needed. It was better to push forward. Maybe the exit was just around the corner.

To her surprise, Kiran did not ascend the stairs. Instead, he slipped into the shadows beneath them, his voice beckoning them. “There’s enough space for all of us here. Come.”

Ari and Ria followed, bringing the orb with them. Its light revealed an empty space under the stairs, as bare as the rest of the chamber.

“We should wait here and let them pass. Put out the light,” Kiran said, leaning against the cold wall.

Ria hesitated, her brow furrowed with doubt. “Are you sure? If they don’t simply pass by and decide to check this place, we’ll be exposed.”

“Why would they do that? And anyway, it’s a better option than running blind as a bat through this maze. Put out the light.”

Muttering that she still had heard nothing, Ria complied, extinguishing the orb. The darkness enveloped them, thick and oppressive. Ari waved her hand in front of her face, feeling the air stir with the movement, but seeing nothing, not even the faintest outline of her palm.

In the suffocating silence, they waited, their hearts pounding in unison, the only sound their own shallow breaths. After what seemed like an eternity, the sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber, accompanied by the faint flow of light seeping into their refuge. Ari listened intently, trying to gauge the number of newcomers. From the sound of their steps, she surmised there were two of them. She held her breath, hoping to hear them ascend the stairs. Instead, her heart sank as the footsteps ceased, indicating the newcomers had stopped just where they did not want them to.

The hushed voices of two men echoed through the chamber, their words barely audible over the pounding of Ari’s heart. Her grip tightened on her uniform, her fear so intense she could scarcely breathe.

“Are you sure you picked up something?”

“No, I am not. Nothing works as expected since we crossed that barrier. Too much interference. But there was a blip in external illumination ahead of us which could suggest someone was here. Luckily, they didn’t come our way, but let’s not tempt fate. We can wait for a few minutes to put some distance.”

“Whatever. I was only saying that I saw nothing. If you were really concerned about running into someone, we probably shouldn’t have come this way, should we? Just say if you need a break, alright? I know you have it hard.”

“I’m fully capable of performing my duties, thank you. And that blip was real.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Ari kept clutching her uniform, her body rigid with fear. Only the stone steps separated her from the two men, their figures casting ominous shadows against the faintly glowing walls. If the men ventured just a bit further into the chamber, she and her companions would be discovered.

“At this rate, we’ll never find the main crystal. My navigation says we were going in a straight line and now we’re outside the city. Useless junk.”

“As I said earlier, the barrier is somehow interfering with our equipment. Maybe we should backtrack and try to piece together our recordings of the passages we went through into an actually useful map.”

“Boss will be pissed if we have nothing to report.”

“We can send the layout of the Academy. It’ll have to do for now.”

“Let’s give it another hour, then we head back. Deal?”

“Another hour of pointless marching through this maze. Lovely. Lead the way.”

“And to think that just a few weeks ago I had the west coast assignment. Ocean, beaches, drinks and almost no work to do. You at least didn’t lose that much coming here.”

“I feel so much better now that I know that. Amazing cheering up skills you have there.”

“I know, he, he.”

The men’s conversation grew fainter as they ascended the stairs, leaving Ari in darkness once more. With the strangers gone, Ari allowed herself to breathe deeply, her lungs expanding with each relieved inhalation. Gradually, her heartbeat returned to normal.

“Can you restore the light?” she asked in a quiet, trembling voice.

“Not yet. You heard them. They’d seen us before,” Ria replied.

A tense silence hung in the air for a full minute before Kiran spoke up. “It should be fine now; it looked like they wanted to avoid meeting anyone as well. I doubt they’d go back to check on us.”

Another minute ticked by in the darkness before a faint glow appeared to Ari’s left. Gradually, the shadows grew, and she could see her companions squatting against the wall, exactly mirroring her own position.

Ria, her eyes blazing with determination, leaped to her feet, her voice echoing through the chamber. “You see? I was right. I told you they were up to something shady. We need to report this immediately.”

“If we report on them, it’ll be as a good as admitting we were here,” Kiran said. “Better keep it to ourselves.”

Ari blinked, surprised that Kiran was not only talking much more today but also that there was a note of assertiveness in his usually bland and emotionless voice.

Ria eyed him, muttering angrily, surely contemplating how to force her way.

“We don’t even know if they were the same people you wanted to follow, unless you peeked at them,” Ari added, hoping to extinguish Ria’s foolish idea.

“Can you imagine having necromancers spying on the Academy’s secrets? Learning how to defeat us? And you want us to ignore the danger we witnessed? No way I’ll do that! But if you’re such cowards, I’ll do it myself and tell professors I was here alone!” Ria’s face reddened from all the shouting. She turned to Kiran, growling. “For all the ‘I can’t speak to nobles’ talk, you’ve started to run your foul mouth pretty fast when it suits you. Cowards. Both of you.” She followed her words with an angry stomp. “We’re leaving.”

Ari, stunned by Ria’s sudden outburst, stood motionless. When Ria showed them her back, Ari saw Kiran looking at her with wide eyes as well. She shrugged at him, and after a moment, he shrugged back. Then they both followed Ria. Ari had enough of the undergrounds for the day.

As they ascended the stairs, Ari’s concerns grew. “How long will it take to go back? Why don’t we just return the way we came from? Do you even know where the exit is?” she asked.

“I don’t need to,” Ria snapped. “If you know where you want to go, it takes a few turns and you’re there. And if you don’t know, you can spend your whole life wandering and never find it. That’s how the undergrounds work.”

They continued climbing the steps in silence until they emerged at a junction with three different exits. Ria did not stop, and marched through one of them at random. Their chosen passage turned out to be a long, winding corridor that abruptly ended in another small chamber, soon after followed by another junction. The process repeated several times, with Ria picking the routes seemingly at random.

“Would you decide where you want to go already?” Ari’s exhaustion seeped into her words. Ria whirled around, her face etched with annoyance, ready to retaliate, but Ari stopped her. “Ria,” she pleaded. “Can we just find a way out?”

Ria licked her lips, her attitude shifting slightly. “I’m trying, Ari. Stop nagging,” she said, her voice lacking the heat Ari had expected.

Suddenly, the chilling words echoing from the side cut short their discussion.

“What are you doing here, kids?”

They turned in unison towards the source of the sound. A woman stepped from a small, shrouded in darkness, alcove. Ari’s face paled in terror—they had been found out.

“I can imagine that one of you might have not been informed the undergrounds are off limits, but all three? It’s barely your second day on the Academy’s grounds and you’re already violating basic rules? Let me ask again: What are you doing here?”

The woman’s firm and resonant voice sent a wave of panic through Ari. As the woman continued to approach them, Ari’s stomach rumbled, and she wanted to puke. Her spinning mind stopped at the sudden realization of the woman’s words.

“She knows us?” If that was the case, there was no point in running away. In the next moment, Ari almost laughed at her own stupidity. Could you even run from a Great Mage? She assumed the woman had to be one. Her posture and confidence were not of a servant.

The silence stretched too long, and Ari raised her head, only to discover that the woman was glaring at her intensely. Glancing to the sides at Kiran and Ria, she noticed they were also staring at her, their eyes wide.

(Did I say that aloud?) Ari swallowed hard.

“Yes, ‘She’ knows you.” Ari sensed how the woman’s hawk eyes locked on her prey. “I am Naymila Vego. A coordinator for your squad. I will be in charge of you for the next six years until you graduate. Unless you decide to switch squads, that is.” The woman paused for a second and swept her gaze over them. “And we are having such a great beginning. Imagine my disappointment when I came to introduce myself and couldn’t find my new pupils. All that while you were sneaking around. I can hardly remember students ever showing so little respect in the Academy's history. This—”

Ria’s impulsive nature took over. “We had a reason,” she blabbered, unable to listen to what had to be in her mind a baseless accusation. Ari welcomed the shift in focus with relief.

“You had… a reason?” The woman squinted her eyes. Ari could see how Ria began to sweat.

They walked in the same order as before. At the front, the woman asked probing questions, while Ria eagerly shared all the details she could think of. Behind them, Ari dragged her feet, shoulders slumped, head bowed towards the floor. She looked resigned. Kiran was closing the procession, his eyes locked on the woman’s back.

He mulled over the unsettling fact that he had not detected Master Vego in the chamber earlier. It should not be possible. His ability to detect people had been a cornerstone of his survival and success, honed on the harsh streets of Konglad. It was a skill that had served him well, first as a means of evasion and theft, and later, under the tutelage of the boss, it had evolved into something far more sophisticated. No one had ever managed to elude his detection or sneak up on him—until now.

He watched her movements, each step light and controlled, her body perpetually posed for action. To his frustration, there was not a whisper of sound as she walked, her footsteps swallowed by the stone floor. Kiran’s mind raced, trying to fathom how this could be possible. Noise concealment was a well-known technique, but to be perfect to this extent? At this distance, he expected not only to hear her steps, but also to feel the subtle vibrations born from the traction of her feet against the ground. Yet, there was nothing, as if his sight was lying to him and she did not really exist.

Kiran trembled. This woman was dangerous, a predator in human form. When he had earlier glimpsed into her eyes, he recognized the coldness he knew very well. It was the same look he had seen in the eyes of those who had preyed on the weak in the alleyways of Konglad. The look of someone who had no respect for life. Someone who would watch you bleed in the street without blinking an eye; maybe even gut you themselves. The notion of ever confronting this woman filled Kiran with a creeping dread.

His perspective began to shift. Initially, he had come to the Academy out of obligation, following his boss’s insistence on taking the official assessment. He had no particular respect for Great Mages, viewing them as either corrupt like the local nobility or blind to the realities of the world. He had always been able to detect them, evade their focus. They had never seemed to notice him. And why would they? He was just one more faceless child running down the streets.

But now it was clear: mages to be feared existed in this world, and there were techniques beyond his current understanding. Could he learn them? If she was their coordinator, whatever that meant, would she teach him?

Two powerful torrents of emotions waged war within him. The first was pure fear, a profound sense of vulnerability. Master Vego could be lurking around any corner he might pass in the future. He would never feel safe again. The other was a voracious desire. He wanted to move like she had, to be impossible to perceive, a shadow in the world. The last thought that haunted him was his promise to the boss—to return stronger, to learn as much as he could. Until this moment, he had believed there was no knowledge to gain here—not any fitting him at least. But Master Vego proved him wrong.

The Academy’s ground level corridor materialized before their eyes as they exited the undergrounds. Ria’s vivid gesticulations continued as she tried to push her agenda about the necromantic spies.

“That’s enough. Return to your rooms and start acting like the students you ought to be,” Master Vego commanded, then squinted her eyes. “No more violations, or I’ll send you off to attend the weekend courses and you’ll never see the Academy again. Is that clear? Even if there was something going on, it’s not your place to investigate. If you notice anything unusual, report it to your superiors. Our next meeting will involve a lengthy discussion about your conduct. Now, leave!” she ended, raising her voice, and they needed no more encouragement. They ran as fast as they could.

“You almost got us expelled!” Ari exclaimed once they were safely outside, her face flushed with anger.

“Don’t worry, they won’t do anything to us. The Academy needs every adept it can get. You’d have to try really hard to get expelled.” Ria laughed, her complexion returning to its natural colors now that Master Vego was gone.

Ari's eyes bulged in response to Ria’s nonchalant response, and Kiran almost chuckled at the sight, barely maintaining his stone-like expression. He had no intention of being a part of this argument, so he excused himself, leaving the girls to their own devices.

Strolling through the Academy’s tranquil parks, Kiran’s thoughts circled back to Master Vego. (She said, she looked for us, but how did she find us? How could she know we were in the undergrounds and how could she predict which path we would take in that labyrinth? Was it just bad luck? Did she have some other business down there and met us by chance?) he mused.

No logical explanation surfaced, but unexpectedly, a grin spread across his face. For the first time, he felt a genuine excitement about his future at the Academy. There were mysteries to unravel, skills to acquire. A sense of purpose and curiosity, long buried since his childhood, resurfaced. With a renewed sense of wonder and anticipation, he continued his walk, his eyes fixed on the clear, cloudless sky above.

*

Rain drummed hard against the wooden roof. Its strength grew throughout the day, turning into a downpour. Arturio heard the relentless bombardment all too clear to his comfort, despite living in a ground level compartment.

His financial situation was grave, and another unproductive day was about to end. Days like this had become too frequent recently; he saw no bright future for himself. After draining all the money his father had left behind, and failing his own endeavors one after another, he had nothing left.

With a soft sigh, he dispersed the cloud of negative thoughts and returned to counting planks on the ceiling. In his mind, the familiar cracks and knags turned into patterns. As a child, he loved to stare at them, imagining one enormous map spanning his entire home. Near the wall, three planks with a uniform, blemish-free surface formed the ocean. A little farther, where the more inconsistent colors marked the land, resided the largest knag—the capital.

His eyes traced over all the stains and imperfections, recalling his fantasy world and the adventures he dreamed about while lying in this very bed. The years had taken their toll. The wood decayed and turned dark, with splinters protruding in every direction like jagged reminders of his current predicament, echoing his existential dread and the unyielding truth that the past was not coming back. He blinked the tears away. The nauseating feeling of anxiety he hated so much washed over him, leaving him with trepidation about what was to come and longing after what had been already buried.

Suddenly, thunder boomed, a deep, reverberating roar that shook the very foundation of the building. Arturio jolted upright, his heart pounding hard in his chest. The hit had to be nearby.

(Great, a storm now,) he mused grimly, glancing at the rotting floorboards. His abstract worries were momentarily displaced by more immediate concerns. (Please, let there be no flooding. This old wood will not last much longer in these conditions.)

A dull thud at the door pulled Arturio from his brooding thoughts. Lifting his head, he listened intently, a mix of surprise and apprehension crossing his face. (Did I misheard it?) His breath shallowed as he fixed his gaze on the door, waiting.

*thud*, *thud*, *thud*

There was no mistake—someone was outside, growing impatient. Swallowing hard, he slowly rose to his feet. Taking cautious, measured steps, he approached the door, trying to remain as silent as possible. (Who could it be? At this hour, and in such dreadful weather? Some pauper looking for shelter? Or robbers searching for an empty houses to loot under the cover of the rain?)

His humble dwelling, more akin to a den rather than a proper apartment, lacked windows, offering no opportunity to discreetly observe the visitor. Mustering his courage, Arturio opened the door just a crack. At first, the gray curtain of falling drops was all he saw. No one was there, only the relentless rain. But then, abruptly, the door pushed against him, and a tiny figure slipped through the widened slit.

“Hey! What are you doi—” he protested as the hooded intruder made their way into the center of the room, but before he could finish his sentence, the figure turned to face him, pulling their hood down. A cascade of golden hair furled out.

(Oh no.)

“What are you doing here? Are you out of your mind? Get out before someone sees us!” Arturio’s voice rose to a frantic pitch. The girl who forced her way in, unbothered by his outburst, surveyed the room’s meager interior.

“You’re not making much sense, are you? Until I leave, there’s no risk of someone seeing us. Shut the door. It’s chilling out there.” She took off her jacket and draped it over a crooked chair.

Arturio hastily closed the door and then approached the girl, looming over her. “Why are you here?” he demanded. “How do you even know where I live? I did all you wanted. We weren’t supposed to meet for another two weeks.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Questions, questions; everything in its right time. Show me your hand.”

Arturio’s gaze lingered on the girl’s face, noting the changes since their first meeting two years ago. She had transformed from a scrawny kid into a young woman; her features softened by emerging feminine curves. Shaking off his thoughts, he reminded himself of the unbridgeable gap between them. She was a princess, far beyond his reach, and still very much a child in his eyes.

“What for?” He asked, his tone carrying a sliver of suspicion, but she responded only with her intense, unwavering gaze. After a moment of deliberation, he reluctantly extended his hand towards her.

Melia grasped his hand, her eyes closing in concentration. Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness overtook Arturio. He felt energy coursing through his arm, spreading throughout his body, morphing into a sickening weakness. Reacting on pure instinct, he wrenched his hand from Melia’s grip, staggering away from her. After a single step back, he collapsed onto the floor, his strength sapped.

“What did you do to me?” he cried, his voice cracking with a mix of fear and confusion.

Melia regarded him for a few moments before responding. “We’ll come to that. Do you have anything alive here? Other than yourself, I mean. I don’t see any plants or such.” She began touring his home at a leisurely pace as she spoke.

“Oh, excuse me for not having flowers to please the eyes of your highness,” he snorted as he struggled to his feet, slowly regaining some of his strength. “The lack of windows and sunlight makes the gardening a tad hard.”

“So… nothing alive? Nothing at all? Just a rotting man surrounded by rotting food, rotting house, and a rotting life?”

Arturio’s lips twitched. Neither the girl’s tone nor the content of her blabbering were to his liking. The purpose of her visit was still a mystery, and he had a sinking feeling that his troubles were only beginning.

“How about a rat?” he asked, a sly smile spreading across his face.

“A rat?” Melia’s reaction was not quite what he had expected. He had hoped for an expression of disgust, perhaps even a tantrum for daring to suggest such a thing, but all he received was a curious look.

“Yes, a rat. Would it please your highness? I reckon a rat should be something that is alive.”

“Where is it?” she asked without hesitation in her voice.

Arturio scratched his head; there was no point in prolonging this. If she wanted a rat, then a rat he would give her.

He led the way to his makeshift pantry, its door groaning loudly on its hinges as he pushed it open. The room, a term used generously for the cramped space, was dim, illuminated only by the faint light spilling in from the main living area as he could not afford another lightstone.

Melia craned her neck to peer inside. “Whoa, what do you need so many rats for?” she asked, her voice still lacking any sign of disgust.

“Try to guess. You can feed them anything. They breed like crazy, and their meat is not that bad. Half the city lives off them,” Arturio responded with a shrug.

“You eat them?” The mild shock on Melia’s face was for some reason very rewarding.

“Of course. I can whip up a soup for you right now, if you wish.”

Her response was merely a raised eyebrow. She seemed to contemplate it for a moment, before declining, “Maybe later. Bring me one now.”

As Arturio approached the cages, his thoughts drifted, picturing how he would serve the rat to the princess. He saw it all: her chewing the raw chunks as he had no firestones left to cook them; the blood splattering on her elegant sleeves; her loud slurps over the juice flowing from the lean meat.

The vivid scenario played in his mind as he reached into one of the crudely constructed cages and swiftly snatched the nearest squealing animal. The other rats heard the war cry of their brethren, and soon the entire room erupted into a cacophony of rasps and screeches.

He shut the door to muffle the rodents’ uproar and handed over the wiggling ball of fur to the princess. She mimicked his grip, squashing the skin on the back of the animal. The rat twisted its body in a futile attempt to regain freedom, and despite failures, continued to squirm violently.

Melia lifted the rat to her face, observing its desperate wriggles. “Watch,” she commanded, closing her eyes.

The rat gave one last piercing cry, then abruptly ceased its struggle. Arturio watched in disbelief as the animal stilled, completely stopping to resist its captor. Its twitching limbs slackened, its tail drooped lifelessly. The rodent’s body deflated and dwindled, hanging limp in the air. Its fur lost color and fell off in a steady stream. Its skin shrunk, contracting and revealing the stark outline of its bones. When Melia finally opened her eyes, the transformation was complete—the rat was but a withered husk in her hand.

Arturio recoiled, taking a few steps back in reaction to the horrid demonstration.

“What…” The words stuck in his throat.

Melia tossed the dried carcass onto the floor. “I’m sure you know what it is.”

“But, you should seek help in the Empire. Let them treat you. What are you doing in my house with that”—he choked on his own saliva—“cursed thing.” His back hit the wall; there was no further space to back into. As his eyes slid towards the door, he considered abandoning his home and fleeing. No matter where; distance from the tainted girl was all he needed.

Melia looked disappointed. “Don’t you even think about running away. I’ve already cursed you,” she stated flatly.

“You did what?” Arturio’s head whipped back to face her.

“When I touched your hand earlier, I placed a curse on you. If the distance between us grows too large, you’ll die.”

His legs faltered, threatening to buckle beneath him. He still felt the chilling cold spreading throughout his entire arm, originating from where Melia had held his palm, almost as if she had left on his skin a residual imprint of her grasp. “How much too large?” he managed to ask.

“No idea. I’m new to this; can’t control it well. But the range should be quite far, I think.”

“You can’t control it? You THINK?”

Melia’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t control it well, I said. Anyway, what’s done is done. The curse will activate if you run from me. It will also activate if I’m about to die, consuming your life in an effort to save mine. That’s a small incentive for you to protect me as well.”

(How convenient that it also prevents me from strangling you here and now,) Arturio mused, the situation gradually settling in his mind. He fell into a trap. He had fallen into it two years ago, but now it had sprung. There was no escape, no alternative but to accept his fate. Having no options left on the table, he relaxed. The initial surge of fight-or-flight reaction receded, leaving him with a resigned clarity.

“But why?” he asked a simple, yet still unanswered, question. “You should seek help.”

“What help?” Melia asked back. “To let them tamper with my head? Most people, after that ‘help’, end up mentally challenged at best and lifeless vegetables at worst. No way I’m letting them touch me,”—her shoulders dropped and voice grew quieter—“and even if I wanted to try, it’s impossible. My father is not a mage. He was just lucky to be the only living descendant of my great-great-grandfather. There is no way he can keep his reign over the country. Already better candidates are preparing their hands to play, but my father won’t back down. He could make a deal and get himself a decent life, but he’s too proud, too power-hungry.

“Now, imagine the news: the king’s daughter is a Death mage. It would be the end of everything. All the fleeting support he has left would vanish into thin air.”

In a brief pause, her eyes drifted unfocused, lost in thought. “No, he won’t allow that to happen. He has many children. What’s the problem if one of them has a happy accident? My death is the best solution. I didn’t really have a choice. I had to flee fast, while avoiding anyone who has ties to my father. Which means the entire palace. You were the only person I could think of. We need to run. They’ll search for me as soon as they notice I’m gone.”

“Wait, wait, wait. This doesn’t sound like a plan at all. Where do you want to go? I’ve never left the city in my life, so I know nothing about traveling and I’m broke. I don’t even want to go anywhere,” Arturio said, overwhelmed, still processing Melia’s revelations.

“You owe me. Think about it as repaying your debt.”

“What? We helped each other, and yet it was me who ended up paying for it the whole last two years. Now you want more?”

“All I risked was a scolding, but you could have been hanged. If you ask me, you still have your entire worthless life to pay for. I’m collecting it right now.”

Arturio’s frustration boiled over. “And how do you see this working? Wander into the steppe and die of thirst in three days?” He could not contain his outrage. “Maybe you should visit and drain some life from your father instead,” he snapped.

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and immediately he regretted it. His anger quickly turned to shame. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I thought about it myself, but it’s a suicide. Instead, I snatched a few things on my way out,” Melia said, smoothly gliding over his statement as she handed him a burlap pouch.

Arturio inspected the pouch’s contents, his fingers brushing over a large quantity of high-quality stones and crystals. Even though he considered himself almost a Powerless, he could sense the energy imbued in them. They were worth a small fortune.

“That should solve the money issue. Any other questions?” Melia asked. “If not, I need a nap. I didn’t sleep last night at all.”

Arturio stood dumbfounded, staring at the pouch. Its worth far exceeded the sum of the entire wealth his father managed to ‘secure’ in his lifetime. And now, it rested in his hands. Meanwhile, Melia lay down on his bed and soon drifted into a steady, rhythmic slumber.

A tempting thought crossed his mind: he could take the pouch and flee, now wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. (But then what? She gave it to me and dozed off. Why wouldn’t she? I can’t run, not without her,) he mused, shivering. His palm still felt colder than it should.

This was a turning point, a divergence in his life’s path. How would he navigate it? For years, he had dreamed of change, yet never found the courage to act on his own. Not until it was forced upon him.

His father’s voice echoed in his mind. ‘Go big or go home.’ It was his motto—a mantra he repeated before every ‘job’. A memory from the past followed, vivid and haunting. He was crouching on a roof, observing the gallows at the central plaza. Five men stood ready to be hanged. The executioner strolled from one man to the other, fitting the nooses around their necks.

Arturio’s heartbeat quickened. In the next moment, the signal was sounded, and trapdoors opened. The crowd cheered while four bodies dangled lifelessly. But that one body he had focused on still fought. His father did not die from the drop. The rope quivered as he struggled.

Then it all turned black. Only he remained, with his hanged father swinging on the rope. His father laughed with the sound of an explosion. ‘Go big or go home’, he screamed. His eyes bulged, his head stay held by the noose, while his neck stretched longer and longer as his body kept falling down. ‘Go big or go home’, his screams repeated, again and again.

Fighting the spasm, Arturio shook his head. His mind was playing tricks on him, but he could not let that distract him. If what the princess had said was true, the guards could lock the city gates at any time. They needed to leave before it happened.

He pocketed a few crystals and then hid the pouch behind one of the planks in the wall, heeding another of his father’s sayings: ‘Never put all your eggs in one basket.’

A soft sigh escaped his lips. He cast a one last glance at the peacefully sleeping girl and stepped out into the rain-drenched night. Preparations had to be made.

*

“Bullshit!” Reif’s fists came crashing down on the desk. “One gigantic pile of bullshit!” The desk reverberated under the force of another hit. “Do you have any idea how people look at me now? They either pity me, or look down on me. A father of a Great Mage; what a joke.”

Hamil exhaled softly. His old friend sat across from him, throwing tantrums and, like a broken record, returning to the same issue over and over again. The familiar pressure around Hamil’s temples signaled the incoming headache, but he and Reif had known each other since childhood, so he had to bear with it, even if they were not that close anymore.

“I can’t possibly put myself in your shoes, but if there’s really some kind of conspiracy going on, how long will they be able to prolong it? They can’t fake the Power of your daughter forever. What short-term goal could they have?” Hamil said, not bothering to mask the obvious tiredness in his voice. It was almost morning, and he wanted nothing else but to sleep. The fact little Ari got a golden ticket was interesting, but he did not care. He had a business to run and wanted to stay out of trouble as much as possible, especially given that he had already entangled himself with the Shadow Guard.

“I don’t know. I’ve been racking my brain for two days straight and I’m out of ideas. Those bastards are up to something; that I’m sure of. They want to use my daughter against us. The Empire is making its move. We have to be ready.” Reif’s speech was a little slurred. His eyes shone under the alcohol’s spell.

(Drinking has always brought forward his craziness,) Hamil recalled, reminiscing about the countless times he had seen this play out in the past. (Ever since we were young, alcohol would peel away his layers of restraint, revealing the wild theories and paranoia lurking beneath. There’s hardly any reason for the Empire to stir things up now. Assimilation is in process, and is going very well. I’m the living proof of that. The last thing needed is to cause an unnecessary uproar among orthodox Bandawi. It must be some bigger plot, not aimed at us. Or perhaps the girl really is a Great Mage. Strong Power users are scarce enough to justify breaking the taboo. The emperor would happily trade the entire nation for one. Poor girl, she must be going through hell now.)

“What can we do? We’re under the Empire’s thumb,” Hamil said, remaining silent about his real thoughts.

Reif’s fervor escalated as he pounded the table once more. “We must arm our people. We have to be ready when the time comes. Our homeland; I need to send a report to the Matriarch. The uprising is drawing near. We will get our freedom back. Curse them mages!”

Hamil inwardly sighed at Reif’s outburst. (Oh boy, here we go again. You running around, spreading baseless accusations, and calling for revolt is exactly what we need right now…) he thought. (We aren’t even oppressed to begin with, for Tarra’s sake. Highlands enjoy considerable autonomy, bound only by a few universally accepted restrictions and duties, ones that the entire world adheres to. And claiming we ‘lost’ the war is a massive exaggeration; our forces were obliterated by a single squad of Great Mages—that’s how much of a threat we were. The Empire is indifferent to us, only seeking our compliance. If only we kept a low profile and let them carry out their affairs, we’d be left in peace. But no, we had to champion the cause of ‘defending our sacred land’. Although I can’t deny that it’s because of this attitude, I’m living comfortably in the capital, not in the freezing mountains,) Hamil mused, a wry smile flickering across his face.

His smile faded as a darker realization settled in. Reif, with his impassioned rhetoric, was becoming a liability. There were still too many foolish dreamers in his tavern, yearning for a freedom they barely understood. For generations, they had spent their entire lives in the capital, never once visiting their homeland, oblivious to the realities of life up there. Yet, they were eagerly declaring their readiness to fight for an imaginary nation. Reif’s words were already fueling and agitating them. Could Hamil do anything about it?

He buried his face in his hands. The headache had already arrived. A sense of helplessness overcame him, but then, at the back of his mind, an idea began to form.

“If what you’re saying is true, then yes, the Matriarch must be informed,” he said, carefully probing for his friend’s reaction. “But how? Sending a letter or even a dedicated messenger is fraught with risk. They’re likely watching us closely. Any unusual activity could prompt their intervention, and I doubt our messages would ever reach the Matriarch.”

Reif slumped, his fiery passion dimming. “Then what can we do?”

Hamil, sensing an opening, leaned forward with a calculated smile. “I might just have the solution,” he said, capturing Reif’s full attention. “There’s no one we can trust enough to deliver such a sensitive message, no one who can answer the Matriarch’s questions with the necessary insight. No one, that is, except you.” Hamil made a brief pause, watching as Reif’s gaze sharpened, fixing intently on him. “The challenge, however, is to ensure the Empire doesn’t ‘disappear’ you. That’s where I come in. The Empire’s officials recently approached me to help organize a convoy for some foreign scholars. They’re seeking our help, the natives, to ensure a safe passage. You could lead this expedition. Given its international nature, the Empire wouldn’t dare interfere with you. What do you think?”

(All the pieces are falling into the right places. How perfect. I can make him leave the city and let the situation cool down. The report for the Matriarch should be a good enough bait,) Hamil mused as he continued speaking.

“It’s been a while since you last acted as a guide, hasn’t it? Why not take your sons with you? They’re old enough. Only two of them have seen the Highlands so far, right? It’s an excellent opportunity for a family trip, and to earn some coin at the expense of the Empire.”

(Take your sons; they are inexperienced, and I can offer them a lower wage. Margins are thin on this one. The cheaper I can organize the transit, the better.)

Hamil watched as a flicker of excitement ignited in Reif’s eyes. That was a bad sign.

“What an incredible idea. I hadn’t thought of going myself, but you’re right. I can’t trust others, I must see to it myself. When do we leave?” Reif sounded completely sober.

“In one month,” Hamil answered.

“One month? But you said the Empire’s plans for Ari have to be short term. I can’t wait.”

“The departure date depends on the scholars, and they’ve scheduled it for a month from now. Think about it, it’s actually advantageous. The Empire’s plans can’t be that much short term. Leaving now might provoke them to take action despite the international implications. They can always fabricate an excuse. Use this month to give them the impression you’ve moved on, that you’ve begrudgingly accepted your situation, even if you don’t agree with it. That means keeping your mouth shut. Make them believe you’re no longer a threat.”

(Eh, I’d like to see you off as soon as possible but ‘they want to leave as soon as possible’ was scrapped this morning. A brief note arrived, stating the scholars found something fascinating in the local library and needed more time. After all the hasty preparations I made, they postponed the departure. Good thing I can at least reclaim some losses by reducing the costs now. Renegotiating the pay would be ideal, but…) Hamil shuddered at the mere thought of further negotiations with that woman. He preferred to keep their interactions to a minimum.

“As I mentioned, you’ll be in charge of the expedition. If you decide to bring your sons along, I can throw in three or four more men to the team. We’ll work together, just like in the good old days,” He said, injecting a bit of nostalgia into the arrangement.

“Fine. It’s a deal then,” Reif responded, his overflowing eagerness a bit too expressive for Hamil’s liking.

“And you’ll lay down for the time being.”

“I know. It’s good to have you on my side, Hamil. I was too hotheaded. We need cool, surgical precision if we’re to win.”

(If there’s any substance to your suspicions about the plot behind your daughter, I’d want you as far from me as possible. It’s flattering that you still think highly of me, but neither of us is the same man we used to be. We’ve both changed, and to that, in opposing directions. Your enthusiasm worries me. Will your sparkling eyes become a problem? What kind of wild ideas had sprouted in your sick mind? Am I digging my own grave by helping you? This is too much for my pained head. Whatever you plan to brew, it can’t be that bad, eh?) Rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to alleviate the throbbing headache, Hamil reflected on their youth. Reif had always been a magnet for trouble, often escalating situations to unreasonable levels. Yet, they had both survived those tumultuous times, and now, it seemed Hamil was about to be taken on another dangerous ride.

“Start preparing yourself and your sons. Make the necessary arrangements with Bart. I’ll let you know once we have candidates to join your group on the job,” he instructed.

They shook hands; the deal was sealed. Reif left the room with a step full of spring—a wide contrast to his slumped shoulders when he had entered an hour ago. Hamil watched him go, a mix of apprehension and nostalgia coloring his thoughts about the conflicting paths they were both embarking upon.

Bart peeked in, timing his entrance perfectly as always, just as the sound of footsteps receded up the tavern’s staircase. “Should we implement any precautions?” he asked.

“What precautions?” Hamil looked at his most trusted man.

“With Reif potentially under surveillance, it’s likely we might be scrutinized as well. I could put up some watchers,” Bart offered thoughtfully.

Hamil cradled his face in his hands again. The pain had become unbearable. “You can’t stop one woman, one little pawn, from roaming this place as she pleases, and you want to play against the Shadow Guard’s superior? If he has some business with Reif’s daughter, we’re not packing ourselves into that mess. We claim full ignorance and operate as usual. For any external inquiries, I’m only comforting old friend, and helping him to earn his living. We hear nothing, we see nothing, we know nothing. Make sure his departure is smooth, not a day of delay after those bloody scholars are done with their bloody books.” He stood up, cursing as the headache intensified even more. “I’m done for the day—or should I say, the morning. Don’t bother me until tomorrow.”

“Today you mean.” Bart gently stroked his long, curved mustache with an unmasked smile.

Hamil grunted and said nothing, ignoring the banter. He was not in the mood today, and he feared that next time he might lash out. Better to let it pass and keep their relation civilized. Where would he find a replacement? He often wondered how fast his business would fall apart if he was to lose the man.

“I’ll take care of everything. Have a peaceful morning, boss.”

Hamil only nodded, too tired for goodbyes.

(Peaceful mornings and nights. Exactly what I need, but how many do I have left?)

*

As dusk embraced the Academy, the last rays of the sun vanished beyond the horizon, plunging the surroundings into a dim twilight. Lightstones, yet to be ignited, lay dormant, offering no reprieve from the encroaching darkness. Kiran strolled through the park, his eyes tracing the shadows as they drained away with the day’s last natural light, merging with the night. The area was empty; not a single soul in sight.

(How strange. Such an open, desolate piece of land in the middle of a massive city,) he mused, his mind wandering back in time to his birthplace: Konglad, the capital of Sythia. In stark contrast to the sprawling metropolis of Tramiria, Konglad was a smaller, grittier city, thriving as a transit hub to the nearby mines. Its streets were lined with the makeshift homes of laborers and miners. In Sythia, common folk had but two fates: toiling in the mines or tilling the fields, both roles more akin to slavery than anything else. Bound to their masters, peasants could not leave without permission, effectively tied for life to a single place with little hope of change.

(Lucky me. Born on the streets and never caught.) He smiled, considering his past as an urban scavenger far superior to other alternatives. (And here, everything is different. The city is pure chaos, people are left to their own devices without strict overseers. How it hasn’t collapsed yet is beyond me.) Though he had experienced the capital only briefly after his arrival before hastening into the Academy, the difference was already beyond his imagination. ‘Colorful’ was how he would describe Tramiria, in opposition to the dull mood of resignation in his birthplace.

(And that woman. Are there others like her here?) Kiran’s mind lingered on how she had effortlessly eluded his detection skills. (It’s unnerving how she could be observing me this very moment and I wouldn’t know.) He glanced around the park, its verdant landscape now a canvas for his paranoia. As far as he could tell, he was still alone. Fear crawled up his spine. (Are you here? Hidden behind a tree? Or maybe crouching in the hedges?) His heart rate quickened. (I’m not afraid.) He nearly voiced it aloud, seeking self-assurance, though the words did little to bolster his confidence. (The night is my domain. I’m the predator, not the prey. I refuse to be intimidated. She may possess skills I lack, but I’ll learn them, surpass them.)

He took a deep breath, attempting to quell his unease. The growing darkness did not bring the comfort he sought; instead, it transformed every shadow into a potential threat. (I shouldn’t have left the dormitory at this hour.) He picked up the pace.

As Kiran neared the park’s exit, two figures came into view. One was seated on a bench, while the other lay sprawled on the grass. From a distance, they resembled indistinct blobs of gray matter. It took some time for their features to appear, but when they did, his mind stirred. (Should I stop by? Boss was very specific to not get involved.)

His moment for deliberation evaporated as he reached the vicinity of the men. Pausing near the bench, he turned sideways, feigning interest in the park’s scenery. “You have been spotted and reported to the Academy’s authorities. They may start watching you,” he murmured under his breath, keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon as if talking to himself.

The seated man showed no reaction at first, prompting Kiran to consider walking away. But then, a response came, laced with quiet irritation. “Are you trying to compromise us all? You were explicitly instructed not to engage under any circumstances. Boss will hear about that. Be sure of it. If you’re so intent on meddling in our affairs, why didn’t you prevent the information leak? Surely, you’re capable of that?” The man’s posture also remained unchanged, as if he talked to the air, his voice a jabbing whisper.

Kiran answered with coldness. “You acted in an overly suspicious manner. I’m not sure if you have the skills necessary to do the job. Even kids can spot you.” His respect for the boss did not extend to the boss’s minions.

“Talking back? It’s not like you know what the job is, kid. You lie low, and focus on learning. That’s the deal, isn’t it? If you’re so eager to disrupt the plan, then at least be useful. Neutralize the threats, don’t just stand around complaining.”

“Sure, I’ll be happy to help. Give me the code and the target,” Kiran snapped back.

The man fell silent, offering no response.

“No code? That’s what I thought. Consider this a friendly heads-up. How you handle it is your problem.”

“Fine. Acknowledged. Now scram before people see us together.”

The other man snickered at him.

(Useless idiots. Why does the boss keep them around? Watch duty is probably too much for them, let alone infiltration of the mightiest institution in the world. I did my part. Even more than I should.) With the thought, he resumed his stroll.

“Irritating brat,” were the last words he faintly heard from behind. His jaw clenched, but he swallowed the insult—making a scene was not an option.

As Kiran traversed the park, the night was brought to life by myriad points of light. Within moments, their brightness escalated, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the ground. True darkness had no place on the Academy’s grounds. Lightstones, like vigilant sentinels, pierced through the night, enabling activities regardless of the hour.

With the revival of the light, the once muted shadows deepened, returning to their full glory. Kiran shuddered when they arose. (So many places for her to hide,) he caught himself thinking about that woman again. (No. I refuse to fear her.) He inhaled deeply, trying to dispel the creeping anxiety, but every rustle of leaves or stir of grass rekindled his wariness.

Spotting two luminous dots beneath a tree, he froze momentarily, chastising himself right away for his blunder. (You can’t let your enemies know you noticed them. What am I doing? That woman's existence drives me crazy. I can’t let her get to me.) It was too late to feign ignorance, so he looked straight at the dots. Upon closer inspection, his tension eased as he realized it was just an ordinary cat, its eyes reflecting the lightstones’ glow.

After a brief hesitation, Kiran veered off the path towards the tree. The cat sat there regally, its gaze fixed on Kiran with feline interest. “What do we have here?” Kiran asked softly, reaching out to stroke the cat’s sleek, silver fur. The cat responded with affection, standing to nuzzle against his leg.

“You must belong to some noble, don’t you?” Kiran mused with a smile, memories of a similar companion from his childhood surfacing. The exact details of how it had happened eluded him, but a stray cat had once joined him in his hideout. They both had followed their own paths, their own schedules. Yet late at night, the cat would always curl up next to Kiran, and he would fall asleep to the soft sound of purring.

But the companionship had been fleeting. One day, the cat had not returned, nor did it the following days. (That’s right. Everything will fade with time. Better to not have any expectations. Or attachments.)

“Alright, that’s enough petting.” Kiran straightened up. “Off you go, back to your nocturnal adventures, or whatever the cats do at night.” Despite the bittersweet memories, a warmth spilled within him.

The cat sat again, looking at him, clearly not interested in leaving.

“I don’t have any treats for you, sorry,” Kiran said, turning back towards the path.

The cat followed him.

“Stop. Go away.” Kiran urged, waving his hand to scare the animal. Unfazed, the cat simply sat down, observing him calmly, and then continued to trail him once Kiran moved.

“Go. Away.” Kiran repeated, frustration bubbling in his voice. “They’ll accuse me of stealing you. Shoo.”

Next, he tried a more aggressive approach, lunging towards the cat to scare it off.

But the cat remained composed like a sculpture, merely sitting again and watching him with an almost contemplative gaze, utterly ignoring his theatrics.

Shoo

Shoo

“Come on, you can’t do this to me,” the kid whined.

Shoo

Shoo

The cat examined the frustrated boy before him one more time. It could find nothing special. Nothing impressive. Nothing curious. Just a child. His source was strong compared to the general population, but still not even close to being remarkable.

(Why are there millions of black cats in this planet’s orbit, and why the ones on the surface seem to revolve around those kids? What is going on here? It’s like stumbling upon a treasure trove. Usually, spotting even two is rare for me, but here they’re everywhere. Not that I should be happy about it. The more of them, the more I risk. But can I afford to miss this opportunity to learn more? It’s said that the congregation of black cats happens before devastating disasters. What’s going to happen? What are they after?)

As the boy broke into a run, the cat followed.

(They won’t suspect a thing, right? I’m merely enjoying my free time in some backwater world. It’s just a coincidence that I picked to relax together with those brats. That’s right, just a coincident, nothing more. After all, I can’t see you, can I? Please ignore me, bastards.)

The cat kept pace, smiling.

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