I slept one night, expecting to wake up to a morning as ordinary as any other, but I found myself in a mysterious, misty dimension that enveloped me.

It was as if I were in the core of some cloud, surrounded by a gas devoid of shpabisshys traces, hindering my sight both with my eyes and my energy vision. My abilities seemed to dissolve in that environment, barely allowing me to feel the energy flowing in the palm of my hands, only to slip away between my fingers when I tried to channel it with my talents.

The gas was thick and floated slowly. I formed a small air dome around me by waving my hands, trying to comprehend what was happening, although the forthcoming perceptions only ended up confusing me entirely. I felt my bed, my sheet, and my pillow, but everything else was uncertain. I dropped my feet to one side, trying to find solid ground, yet I was too timid to go beyond where my eyes could see. I got angry with myself for being so weak, a scared child. I could strengthen myself, break down walls, and project floors; I could still do many things even if I couldn't control that gas. I decided to jump to the edge of the bed to explore the terrain, discovering in the process a sensation that struck all my senses.

I slid my feet beyond to check what had surprised me with its familiarity. The scent in the air resembled that of blood. It wasn't unpleasant to the point of being nauseating, but it did possess a repugnant quality that began affecting the clarity of my thoughts. I jumped from the safety of my bed into the midst of that cloud and continued wandering along that path. I descended some stairs, collided with a door frame, and staggered out into what I estimated to be the living room of our house.

A hand grabbed my wrist and placed something on my nose.

—Good morning, Abigail —I heard beside me—. Avoid inhaling too much of this substance. It's not very benevolent to usshyer.

He adjusted something solid that perfectly surrounded my nose, mouth, and chin, fitting delicately behind my head. The object was crafted to perfection for the dimensions of my face, although I was sure no one had ever taken my measurements.

—This mask will be sufficient to protect you —said that voice—. Aforite particles are not as fine as one might think —A floating hand gestured around us until I could see the person next to me—. Usshyer believe it's a rock due to its low density and hardness, but it's actually a metal, the only one that can limit their shyvian abilities."

—What do you mean by "limit"? —I asked, recalling what I had experienced on my bed a few minutes ago.

Aforite is the only metal that doesn't repel shpabisshys but attracts it; my master began to explain. It stores energy, absorbing it. That alters the shyvian flow in the environment, diminishing the usshyer's shyvian abilities. In other words, it absorbs shpabisshys from the surroundings, preventing usshyer from using it with their talents.

—When it enters the body, it acts as a poison that drains energy until inducing a deep coma that leads to death —my master took a small stone from his nolet and placed it in my hand—. It's such a fragile material that it's easy to turn it into dust. Also, it's so lightweight that it will float in the air for a considerable time before settling on the ground. I wanted to experiment a bit, but this sample turned out to be more unstable than I thought.

—Isn't it dangerous for you? —I asked my master, taking the mask with my hands and letting him walk away into the cloud.

There was no response. Only a slight hum spread through the room.

The Aforite cloud began to move like a torrent. A small, strange box on the floor was devouring it rapidly, while something inside continued roaring. The air around that device cleared as the Aforite disappeared into the box's jaws, composed of three circular metal propellers spinning at full speed, resembling a flower with three petals. It was a strange device that I could only see for a moment before my master placed its lid and covered the device with a blanket.

The dizziness quickly passed, and I removed the mask that was already suffocating me. Caisam and Irene were there, in the background of the room, removing their respective masks. We greeted each other, chatted briefly, and then both went on their usual walk. My master headed to his room to leave the device he had used there and returned immediately.

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—What was that? —I asked, referring to the box.

—It's a device that exploits some fundamental laws to perform the function you just witnessed —my master said in the tone he uses when he doesn't want to talk about things: fast, eloquent, and brief—. Let's discuss that at another time; we're short on time now.

—Why? What's happening? —I asked.

—We'll have a somewhat desperate visitor —my master said—-. Do you remember the adventurer's guild? I had the opportunity to learn more about their situation, and it seems much worse than we could have imagined.

Several days had passed since Mr. Rómano's visit.

—So what else could be expected? —I asked—. Everything points to them!

—Does that seem so to you? —She asked nonchalantly.

—There are too many coincidences.

—Too many, Abigail —my master repeated and sat down on a piece of furniture in the living room, whereupon I accompanied him—. A company that kills its customers will never prosper.

—Maybe it's not the guild, but those four men in particular who agreed to do it. They choose wealthy victims and execute them themselves to profit from their belongings.

—Do you realize how quickly you label them as both stupid and clever? They can't be meticulous and at the same time leave such obvious traces of their crimes. No, Abigail, the matter is more complex. Have you thought about becoming a judge or investigator? You meet the requirements for such a position, or perhaps you're slightly smarter than necessary."

—Yes, yes —I said, a bit offended by his sarcasm—. You haven't told me why they are in a dangerous situation.

—It's because their reputation is shattered, and not even proving their innocence completely can reverse the damage already done. "The guild of assassins", they're called in rumours. There's no real sentence for them, but everyone already takes for granted all the misdeeds attributed to them. It's something that's fraying Mr. Rómano's nerves, much as he tries to hide it. Not for nothing, he will come again today, much to our discussion days ago.

At that moment, my master signalled the presence of distant footsteps, upon which he stood up to greet the visitor. Mr. Rómano entered our house, as polished as the last time we saw him, but not as calm. He blinked more, spoke faster, and squeezed his own hands even tighter. Such was his state that he didn't even greet us, let alone want to sit.

—I posted the reward as you asked —he said—, but that only fueled the flames of public opinion. I think it would have been better to publish it anonymously. Now they call us hypocrites for offering such a reward. I need to know you have some good news. I racked my brain trying to shape the events and think I even have a theory about it now.

—And what is it? —my master inquired.

—I thought about all the victims and their similarities. All the victims seemed to have something valuable motivating the crime, hence why it was thought to be an ambitious act. But the perspective changes when you realize that all the victims were important citizens of the Stavenger kingdom. The lieutenant and the professors were not only important to the kingdom in general but also to the city itself. The professors were going to educate our officials about structural reinforcement with runes, and the lieutenant was one of the four in charge of security in the east of Stavenger. You see the tension that exists between our kingdom and the wretches of Munrich. I think it's all some war move by King Decanius. Remember that Elker is a strategic point to invade our kingdom.

My master remained silent for a few seconds. He admitted it was a "good hypothesis," although I couldn't tell if he said it out of mere politeness or as a sincere compliment. Mr. Rómano didn't take well to the limited language my master was using in the conversation, so he ended up asking in a thousand ways how the solution to his problem was going. My master claimed to have something in mind that gave him hope but offered no further explanations.

—Please, tell me that everything will turn out well for us —Mr. Rómano insisted.

—That depends on how much you cooperate —my master said—. Don't look at me like that. I'm not talking about more money. I just want you to go about your activities as if it were any other time, neither more paranoid nor less cautious. Just as usual.

—What are you saying? —asked Mr. Rómano, somewhat indignant—. And how the hell are we supposed to do that? We've never been worse off than now.

—Calm down, sir —my master said, as if speaking to a child worried about trivialities—. Are you going to tell me you don't have any clients?

—Well, the truth is we have one —said Mr. Rómano, regaining a bit of his composure—. He's a citizen from the Cassinger kingdom.

—And what opinion do you have of this person?

—I have no serious complaints about him. He's Professor Cosmo, an apparent authority from the Aradel kingdom in the study of nature, as he claims. I know little about his history. He's an old, greying, erratic, complaining and demanding man. He has a personality typical of those who lose themselves in books. He arrived last night, entered our guild demanding our best warrior, and wouldn't speak to anyone until we met his demands. He only raised an eyebrow when he noticed Roben's presence but didn't lift a finger until he broke the wall to demonstrate his strength. The professor then walked toward my boy and examined him intensely, first with his gaze, walking around him, and then with his hands. Only then did he offer a generous payment if Roben personally attended to his request.

—What did he want?

—An escort. He declared wanting to study ancient seals in the caves of Elker. We didn't inquire much about it. I tried to explain our situation, but he insisted that he didn't care. You could see his stubbornness in the wrinkles on his face. Roben prepared for the task, and this afternoon they'll meet on the outskirts of the city to embark on the journey. Are you going to do something?

—I already have a plan, Mr. Rómano —said my master—. I already have it. I just need you to focus on acting as you normally would; neither more paranoid nor less cautious. Just as usual. Now, please, I'll have to ask you to leave, as I need to execute my plan soon. If all goes well, this afternoon the authorities will have the real culprit, and you can start restoring your reputation.