It began on a rainy fall evening. Black clouds thickened over the capital city, as if Darkness itself and its servants had enveloped the gray houses in their embrace, keeping a watchful eye on the inhabitants, who in turn looked fearfully at the sky, dreading the storm that they were prepared for, but were not expecting today. But the formidity of the clouds were only visibility, and everything was limited to a light drizzle, which even stray animals were not afraid of. It was a soothing, pleasant fine dust falling on the face, which made it pleasantly tickle and caress. A fog was rising from the roads, and the outlines of the street were lost in it, passers-by drowned and disappeared. The city seemed lifeless, but only until someone again caught you eye.

There were a lot of people on the street, and what was there to be afraid of when the weather was like this almost all year round, and sunny days could be counted on the fingers of one hand? Residents of the capital always carried umbrellas with them, even if nothing indicated any precipitation, and in the end, they never came in handy. It was as if they became a part of fashion that was never replaced by anything else. Hiding behind coats with high collars, shod in leather boots or shoes, people – in contrast to the city alive and warm - ran in a direction only they knew. In their fearful looks, now and then squinting at passers-by and dark corners, there was more fear than fear of the weather - they feared for their lives. Everyone was trying to get home before dark, pushing passers-by, speeding up their steps and muttering something to themselves.

With the rain and thunderstorms that had fallen on the capital, came the greatest threat the history of the Eloi United Kingdom had ever known. From the darkest parts of the human mind, from the hidden recesses of adults and the nightmares of children, monsters disfigured by dark power emerged, in thirst and agony, prowling the dark streets of Alastar in search of their victims. No one knows where they came from; no one knows what their true purpose is; and no one knows how to eradicate them from our land. Endowed with consciousness and reason, they began to live among us: on our streets, in the guise of the dead, in our homes.

In opposition to them among the people appeared gifted, whose power and the suddenness of its appearance also could not be explained, but it was it what saved hundreds of lives from imminent death, despite the different magical nature. The same dark and sinister magic that demons are enveloped in is equally capable of destroying them as light magic. So, His Majesty formed the Legion of Garda, which to this day stands guard over life, faithfully and honorably serving the Crown.

But it was not all smooth sailing. For not all the gifted went to Garda, not all found their calling in it, not everyone found their place there. So, the gift that everyone dreamed of became an object of scorn and hatred for some. Out of the shadow of helplessness came thieves and criminals. Their influence spread to all the suburbs, their black, nasty tentacles enveloped the capital, spreading their nets in every corner of it. Alastar was divided, the situation sparked with tension until contracts and secret agreements held them back; a common enemy bound them all together, and the flames of enmity calmed. But let the wind blow, and it would flare up again, bringing pain and tears. Everyone knew that day would come, no matter how loud the whispered pleas for silence and peace were. This wind, just its first gust, barely perceptible but carrying a terrible force, came today.

I stood on the doorstep of my shop and looked at the passersby with a cheerful gaze. A measured melody came from my lips, the same as the rain today. Its sound seemed to pierce the silence, broken only by the monotonous tapping of water droplets on the dark tiled roofs of the mostly two-story apartment buildings. Occasionally, instead of a muffled clatter, a tinkling sound could be heard - that was the sound of the wrought iron balcony railings, to which the girls liked to hang pots with brightly colored flowers. They seemed like bright colored spots against the gray landscape, but they drew the attention of anyone passing by, and that person was sure to have a smile on their lips. The water accumulated into small rivulets and flowed in thin streams down the sloping wide cobblestone main street, where they would split into gutters below. In the distance, horses rumbled and hoofs clattered on the stone road, followed by the screeching of carriage wheels, moving farther and farther away until the noise died down.

The rain pounded everything, including umbrellas. I hated them. I'd never felt the need to hide from the weather, and the accessory was a nuisance that could cost you your life. If I hid behind anything, it was the deep black hood of my cloak, and that was more to hide my face than for fear of getting wet. I'd never dreamed of the weather stopping, but for some reason I liked it: it was comforting, but it made staying alert in our dangerous world the best option for a magically gifted person who risked their life every day.

I cast a puzzling glance at the old wooden sign, where the calligraphic letters “Abode of Sin” were carved and painted in gilt. I don't know what the first thought people have when they read that name, but it's an antique shop. In a small room made of red lacquered wood, with refinished wooden floors and large picture windows, shelves and counters are filled with all sorts of curiosities, from treasures found in the desert tombs of the Southern Kingdom to paintings from around the world. On the walls hang antique clocks, chains, weapons from the Pre-Grove period and much more. Everything is kept clean and tidy, and I personally keep an eye on it.

A carriage swiftly passed by, splashing a muddy puddle. This puddle hit some important man in a black cylinder and red sideburns. He swore savorously, as is not usually befitting people of his status, splashed the muddy droplets off his black umbrella and, trying to stay out of the way and closer to the houses, hurried onward. I giggled, peeling off the doorjamb and making my way inside. The door closed quietly behind me, ringing a small bell. The song continued, echoing off the walls. My thoughts returned to their previous calm, and I was able to exhale as I continued to hum.

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The door suddenly rang with a bell, informing me of a customer. I wasn't expecting any today, it was a little late for them, unless it was a special occasion. Turning to face the man who entered, I frowned - it was one of the mages of the Legion of Garda. It took me a lot of effort not to snort contemptuously. A client is a client, no matter what, and I'd have to serve him.

He was a fairly young guy, about my age, with white twisted hair, slightly disheveled and drenched. I didn't find an umbrella on him, which couldn’t but please my umbrella-hating soul. Squinting, as if searching for something, his strangely silvery eyes looked around the room first and stopped on me, studying me, almost touching me. The look made me want to shrink away, or better yet, to leave. I'd never seen eyes that color before; they were almost blended in color with the whites, only the darker rim of the iris and the equally light pupil, and the distinctive silvery sheen, stood out. Surprisingly, it was his natural color, and he was sighted, and this already attracted my attention, and the genuine interest in the owner of these unusual eyes with each passing second heated up more and more. His finely defined lips were slightly set in contempt, his light-colored eyebrows furrowed. He didn't have any particular facial features, and it was nothing special - just an ordinary face to me. The only thing I noticed besides the unusual eyes was the color of his skin. Unusually swarthy, as it would be for an Eloitian, if he really is from here. His clothes are the usual Gardean uniforms: a tight black shirt, a dark vest over it, some of them also wore metal protectors on their elbows, chests, and knees to avoid nasty injuries, this one too, tight gray pants, high leather lace-up boots, and a dark cloak with a large, deep hood over it all.

image [https://cdnvb4.haiper.ai/jobs/66fc3b067cb3cd280a7ca930/66fc3dda72922be85cad96ac/0.jpg]

- I welcome you to my shop! - I sang out, smiling broadly. This guy is quite interesting already, and maybe he'll surprise me even more. In fact, I wish he could, because this day was going to be terribly boring.

- That's very welcome, considering my coming here can't bode well for you. - It's true, it's true. He's not the first warder to cross this threshold, and I'm fine and the shop is still open.

- You have some business with me, but you see, the shop's closed, so I don't have time to talk.

- Then I'll get right to the point. - His lips curled into a grin, and I didn't like it at all. But what I didn't like more was that I couldn't read him. I'd always been able to do that with literally anyone, but he was... a mystery to me. - You're charged with murder. - He didn't see it on my face, and there was hardly my equal at hiding their emotions, but I was surprised. It wasn't so much that I was surprised at what he was accusing me of, because it really could have been true, but that he was throwing accusations around when he came alone. Normally in such case at least three people come: one goes in and the other two stay outside so that there are witnesses that their coworker came in. But he came alone, and he's accusing such serious things. If that's the only reason he's here, then he's completely shortsighted, but such people don't get into the Legion, no matter what level of gift they have. So, his purpose is something else.

- Yes? – I asked with a smile, not giving him any reason to think I was taking the blame or being nervous or innocent. - We both realize that proof is needed for confirmation.

- Several people saw you with the recent victims. Around nine o'clock.

- But they could have mistaken me. - I said, sitting down on the smooth countertop of my desk. - You know, lately, I've been keeping a notebook, - I pulled out a worn brown notebook from behind my desk. - where I write down each customer's name, the item purchased, the price, and the time. - I chuckled. - Unfortunately for you, I was in the shop at the time you indicated. - I unfolded the notebook to the right page and showed it to the guard. He didn't even look inside, so his goal wasn't really to put me behind bars for murder. But then why?

- You could have made it all up. - Slander! Actually, I do record real people and real times. It's just that the murder took place in a shop, but the body was found nearby and I was present. If he wanted to put me away, he would have noticed that the victim's name and my visitor's name matched, but he only said that I could have made up my visitor who came to see me at nine o'clock. Slamming the notebook down, I laid it down beside me, tapping my long fingernails on the cover.

- You're not from here. - He smiled.

- What makes you say that? - He didn't say I'd gotten off the subject, so he didn't really care whether I was guilty or not. And that satisfied smile - he wanted me to notice. What's he doing here?

- Skin and eye color. It's been a long time since our kingdom has known heat, even warmth, but you have slightly swarthy skin. And your eyes are a color I've never seen before, though I've been visited by people from the Southern Kingdom. - Located in the South, which is logical, it's always hot there, and most of the territory is occupied by deserts. In such conditions, it's impossible to keep the same skin color as ours, and the natives are immediately born swarthy. As for the eyes, I've heard of such a phenomenon in the Southern Kingdom, but I've never seen it in real life until today. 

- You are very observant. And most importantly, you're right: my family is from the Southern Kingdom, but I was born here. - It was obvious. And I can't help feeling he's trying to test me in this way.

- So, any other accusations?

- Sure. - He took a step closer to me, but stopped there, watching me closely. I just jumped off the table and leaned against him, folding my arms across my chest. - Contraband. - There's no getting away from that. There is such a thing, but it is known to a special circle of people.

- Any evidence?

- The victims were found in possession of unusual weapons. I know all the manufacturers, and they don't make them. - This game has gotten on my nerves.

- You make accusations and yet you take no action when it's all serious stuff. Why? - I muttered cheekily.

- You want me to take action? - A revolver materialized in his hands. It was immediately pointed at me, and the unwavering stare would have nailed anyone. Anyone but me.

I smiled, and turned my back to him, running my fingers lightly over the smooth tabletop in a circular motion, summoning my weapon as well. It was the small pistol I liked to hide behind my cloak. This is my last chance to make sure I’m right.

- You dare accuse me and aim it at me in my own shop. - I threw, snickering.

The gun was in my hand in a split second, and I turned towards the guard, firing. Surprisingly, he fired at the same time I did. I had unusually sharp hearing, I could hear a delay of seconds, but there was none. We actually fired at the same time.