Gael hesitated. Glancing out on the stone balcony. In the distance he could just make out the forges firing up as the sun began to rise around them.


    Do you believe in destiny?


    Ores watched him, her expression composed yet expectant. Behind her, the faint glow of the sconces cast elongated shadows along the walls, the opulence of her chamber at odds with the feeling of quiet scrutiny pressing down on him.


    "I think people like to believe in destiny when they want to justify where they are," he said carefully. "Good or bad, it makes things easier."


    Vess, standing just behind him, let out a soft scoff. "Destiny''s just a word people use when they don''t want to admit they''ve lost control." Her voice was sharper than she probably meant it to be, but the fire behind it was unmistakable.


    Ores''s eyes flicked to Vess, then back to Gael, a small smile forming at the edges of her lips. "Interesting," she mused. "You two see the same thing, but from different angles."


    Gael kept still, watching her as much as she was watching them. Was this just conversation? Or was she testing us?


    Vess crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot. "What does it matter?" she challenged. "Did you ask just to hear us talk in circles, or is there a point to all of this?"


    Ores chuckled softly, the sound almost indulgent. "There is always a point, little ember."


    Vess stiffened at the nickname, but Ores only leaned forward, resting her hands lightly on her cane. "You came here for a purpose. And now you wish to prove yourselves, to be useful to me."


    Gael didn''t let his expression waver. That was what they wanted—what they needed. A way closer.


    Ores tapped a single finger against the polished wood. "Consider this your first opportunity."


    "There''s a man," she continued. "He has something I want. Something he shouldn''t have in the first place."


    Gael listened, silent and still. Vess, on the other hand, was already leaning in, waiting for details. Ores smiled. "I need it retrieved. Quietly, if possible. Messy, if necessary." Her gaze flickered between them, measuring. "Do this for me, and I''ll know you''re more than just words."


    Gael felt Vess stiffen beside him, anticipation thrumming beneath her skin.


    "Who?" Vess asked.


    Ores''s smile deepened. "A collector, one who doesn''t understand the value of what he''s hoarded."


    She gestured lazily toward the door. "You''ll find the details waiting for you in the study. Consider it a test if that will help your performance." She paused before continuing "And if reward is what drives you still, know that you will be compensated well if you succeed where others have failed me."


    Gael met Vess''s gaze. No need for words. They finally had their way in.


    As they turned to leave, Ores''s voice trailed behind them, casual, almost playful. "And Gael," she said, her tone light, "I wonder what you''d call it when someone isn''t just where they are, but exactly where they''re meant to be?"


    Gael''s breath caught for just a moment, a flicker doubt creeping up on him. He kept walking.


    They left the chamber in silence, stepping into the dimly lit corridors of the estate. Only when they were far enough away did Vess exhale sharply, rolling her shoulders. "She''s toying with us."


    Gael didn''t answer right away. Ores wasn''t a mind reader. She couldn''t know why they were here.


    Could she?


    <figure>


    </figure>


    Lukas had been waiting long enough to get impatient but not long enough to do anything about it. He leaned against the table, arms crossed, trying not to fidget as Lurras stood nearby in his fancy new military uniform. The room was dim, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and candle smoke.


    Then the door groaned open, and Gael and Vess stepped in, their expressions set in that careful way Lukas recognized—like they were bracing for impact.


    He arched a brow. "Took you long enough. What happened? Did you recite poetry to her?"


    Gael shot him a look, but Lukas caught the faintest flicker of something else beneath it. Not quite amusement. Not quite unease.


    "She offered us a job actually," Gael said, running his hand through his hair absentmindedly.


    Lurras tapped a finger against the parchment in front of him and slid it forward. "You impressed the Madam enough to be given a real task. One that will likely get you killed."


    "Well, don''t sugarcoat it."


    "You''re going to be stealing from the largest collector of magical artifacts in all of Sacyr. Berron Lenesh."


    Lukas felt his stomach twist before his mind could catch up. The name landed heavy in the room, and even Vess twitched at it.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    "Shit," he muttered.


    Gael tilted his head. "The warlord of Jesarin?"


    Lurras nodded. "Ores has had her eye on something in his collection for a long time. Every attempt to acquire it has ended in failure. You might assume this is because of his influence, his fortress, or his personal guard—but no, it''s because Berron Lenesh is a paranoid bastard who doesn''t trust anyone outside of his own entourage. If we were to send our own agents, he''d see it coming. That we can''t risk." He gestured at them. "You, on the other hand..."


    Lukas felt his jaw tighten before he could stop it. He wasn''t an idiot—he knew what that meant. If they got caught, no one would come looking for them. No one would care.


    Gael must have had the same thought because he didn''t say anything right away. Vess, on the other hand, looked ready to bite Lurras''s head off. Gael put a hand on her arm before she could snap, and she stilled. Barely.


    He''s always been so good at extinguishing her fuse.


    "And what will we be stealing from a warlord?" Gael asked, his tone incredulous.


    Lurras turned the parchment toward them. Lukas leaned in, eyes tracing the lines of the crude but detailed sketch at the center of the page—a circular emblem with strange markings carved along the edges. In the middle, an inky gemstone sat, heavy and dark.


    "The Sealing Stone of Udir," Lurras said. "A relic from the old world. It was once used to forge unbreakable bonds." His finger tapped against the parchment. "No one knows how to wield it anymore, but the artifact still holds immense power."


    Lukas frowned. "So, let me guess. Lenesh keeps it locked up in Jesarin''s vault?"


    Lurras didn''t even blink. "If only it were that simple."


    Lukas huffed. It never is.


    "Lenesh is meticulous. His collection isn''t just stored in one place. He moves pieces constantly, cycling through different strongholds and private safes to ensure no one knows where anything is for too long. Attempts to steal from him in the past have ended in disaster. His men don''t just kill thieves—they make examples of them. Publicly."


    Gael exhaled sharply, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. "Then we find out where it''s being kept."


    Lurras nodded approvingly. "Exactly. And quickly. Ores isn''t the only one with interest in this artifact, and if someone else gets to it first, this entire job will be worthless."


    Vess''s arms remained crossed, her jaw tight. "And how do you suggest we figure that out? Lenesh doesn''t exactly host open house tours of his vaults."


    Lurras smirked. "You three clearly have your ways."


    Gael''s mind was already running ahead, fitting the pieces together. They needed to get close to Lenesh''s operations, find a weak link. A merchant, a guard, someone who had seen the collection up close. He turned to Vess and Lukas, already seeing the same realization settle in their eyes.


    Lukas sighed. "I hate when you get that look."


    "Then let''s get moving," Gael said, rolling up the parchment. "We''ve got a warlord to rob."


    <figure>


    </figure>


    The creaking of the hideout''s old wooden floorboards was a familiar sound, one that usually meant safety. Gael exhaled, finally allowing himself to drop onto his favorite battered couch in the corner of their cramped den. The lantern light cast soft, flickering shadows, making the space feel smaller, more intimate—a stark contrast to the vast, elaborate halls of Ores''s home


    Vess was the last to enter, tossing her charred cloak onto the floor. "That," she said, rubbing the burn on her forearm, "was an absolute mess."


    "We''re alive, aren''t we?" Lukas countered, shaking his damp hair out and pulling over a crate to sit on. "And we got out in one piece, and only slightly bruised."


    Gael ran a hand down his face, exhaustion settling in now that the adrenaline had worn off. "Speak for yourself. Lurras wasn''t holding back."


    "Yeah, no thanks to you nearly getting yourself cut in half." Vess flopped onto the couch beside Gael, her usual sharp edges dulled just slightly now that they were out of immediate danger. "Next time, try dodging."


    Lukas let out a tired chuckle. "Noted." But he was already digging through their provisions, tossing a dry roll toward Gael before taking one for himself. "So, what now?"


    Gael caught the roll but didn''t immediately eat it. Instead, he turned it in his fingers, deep in thought. "Now, we wait."


    Vess raised a brow. "Wait? That''s your grand plan?"


    Gael nodded. "Ores knew what she was doing when she pulled us into this. A job like this takes time, and she''ll understand that. Until then, she''ll find ways to keep us busy. Maybe smaller tasks, maybe more tests, but she won''t just leave us alone." Gael tore the roll in half handing it to Vess.


    Vess exhaled through her nose, taking a satisfying bite. "Great so more time with that treacherous witch. More danger."


    "More opportunities," Gael corrected, a tired but knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "We just have to make sure we survive them."


    Gael chuckled, the weight of the night still pressing on his bones, but for the first time in hours, he let himself feel the small comfort of their hideout. No gangs, no knights, no looming threats. Just the three of them, an exciting new opportunity, and a plan waiting to unfold.


    Vess groaned, throwing her head back against the couch. "Sleep now, survive later. Gods, I need a bed."


    "Then sleep," Lukas said, kicking his feet up onto the crate. "We''ll just talk over you."


    Vess cracked an eye open and glared. "You mean yell over me?"


    "Same thing," Lukas replied, smirking.


    Gael exhaled through his nose, flipping absently through his Cantrip Book where it lay beside him. The forest-green cover, worn soft from years of use, felt familiar beneath his fingers. The golden inlaid rim gleamed under the lantern light, the inscription at the bottom catching his eye as it always did: "For G.L."


    Lukas leaned over, eyeing the book like a cat spotting something to swat. "You still lug that thing around?"


    Gael didn''t even look up. "Obviously."


    "How long have you even had it?" Lukas reached for it lazily but Gael pulled it just out of his reach.


    Gael shrugged. "As long as I can remember."


    Lukas gave an exaggerated whistle. "And you''ve actually read all of it?"


    Gael arched a brow. "It''s not that long."


    Lukas scoffed and reached over before Gael could stop him, flipping through a few pages. "Ugh. Half of this is just explanations. ''Controlled Essence Application,'' ''Magi-sanctioned General Use Cantrips''—this is all boring stuff."


    "That boring stuff is what has gotten me this far," Gael said, yanking the book back.


    Lukas smirked. "Then show me how far exactly that is.."


    Gael closed the book with a quiet thump, considering. Then, a slow grin spread across his face. "Alright, it''s been a while since we had a proper Cantrip Duel."


    Lukas lit up, already moving to the empty corner of the room they usually used to duel.


    Vess groaned, eyes still shut. "You two are ridiculous. I don''t know where you get the energy."


    Gael took position across from Lukas, lifting a hand. "Ready?" Lukas shook out his hands, his usual playful grin flickering into something sharper. "Born ready."


    Gael moved first, forming the incantation with practiced ease.


    "Veyran Zephara."


    A controlled gust of wind kicked up around him, sending dust scattering in soft swirls.


    Lukas inhaled sharply and—tried.


    He muttered the same incantation Lurras had demonstrated that night. He could feel it—the shape of the spell, the pull of essence—but grasping it was like catching smoke in his fingers.


    Gael''s wind surged toward him.


    Lukas planted his feet, pushed his essence outward—the spell stuttering as he forced it forward.


    A weak pulse rippled in the air. Not enough. Gael''s wind hit him with a sharp whoosh, knocking him back a step.


    Lukas cursed, shaking out his hands. "Damn it—"


    Gael tilted his head. "Trying to negate it?"


    Lukas huffed. "I almost had it."


    Vess snorted. "Almost doesn''t count."


    Lukas shot her a look before resetting his stance. His fingers twitched at his sides, frustration bubbling—but not in the way that usually led to reckless decisions. This wasn''t just about winning. It was about proving he could do it.


    Gael readied another spell, fingers moving instinctively through the motions. "Again?"


    Lukas'' smirk returned, sharper this time. "Again."


    Nearly twenty minutes and four failed attempts later, a very tired-looking Lukas shifted his stance, readying himself for another round. Gael could go for hours, but he worried about his friend''s essence reserves. Yet, with a determined nod, Lukas made it clear—he wasn''t backing down until he succeeded.


    "Araphez Naryev."


    Lukas had been close every time, the spell nearly folding in on itself before slipping free. But this time, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to say the exact wind incantation backward—his voice firm, no hesitation—


    The wind collapsed on itself, snuffed out mid-air before it could reach him.


    For a second, Lukas just stared at his hands, specks of black essence dripping from his fingers. Then, a slow, victorious grin spread across his face.


    "Ha! It''s as easy as that!"


    "Great. Now he''s never going to shut up about it," Vess muttered, pinching her temples.


    Lukas was too busy celebrating to hear her. "Did you see that, Gael? A perfect spell negation. I might be one of them prodigies!"


    Gael let out a low whistle. "Impressive. Now please, never cast that on me again. It feels... wrong."


    Before he could explain, the sound of hurried footsteps pulled their attention to the entrance.


    Two urchins—Lander and Soren, the last members of their crew—stumbled inside, panting, wide-eyed with fear.


    Vess instantly straightened, all drowsiness forgotten. "What the hell happened to you two?"


    Soren wiped sweat from his brow. "We should be asking you that! First, you disappear for a day, then when you get back, a huge knight in full plate starts asking for you by name."


    Silence.


    Gael''s stomach twisted. No one should know they were here.


    Vess was already reaching for her knives. "Bounty hunter?"


    Soren hesitated. "Didn''t look like one. More like... a messenger."


    Gael and Lukas exchanged a glance.


    Then, before anyone could stop them, all three were heading for the door.


    Standing at the alley''s entrance, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed—was Lurras.


    Despite the blistering summer heat, he wore his full rune-plate.


    Lurras tilted his head. "You are not easy to find."


    "That''s kind of the point," Vess shot back. "It''s a hideout."


    She folded her arms, mirroring his disdain pound for pound. "So, if you''re here to beat our asses again, just get on with it."


    Lurras sighed. "Not today." He pulled something from his cloak—a sealed scroll, the wax stamped with a sigil of a crane. "Your first task."


    Vess took it, eyes flicking over the seal. "A job?"


    "A heist, to be exact." Lurras shot Gael a pointed look before continuing.


    "There''s a collector in the city. A lord with very expensive taste. Real piece of shit if you ask me. But he owns something we need to get to Lanesh."


    Then he said the name.


    Lord Farnum.


    Lukas froze.


    Gael saw his expression shift—first to shock, then to something darker.


    Lurras continued, oblivious. "He''s a private collector. Keeps a vault in his estate, full of rare artifacts. Getting our hands on a specific one will buy us entry into the annual bidding auction—"


    Lukas let out a quiet, dangerous laugh.


    "Maybe there''s some justice in the world after all," he murmured, smirk turning cold.


    Why did that name sound so familiar?


    And then it clicked. Ambrose Farnum. The pompous lord who had sponsored Lukas in the fighting pits.


    The man he hated more than anyone in the world.