ã€ŠAffinityã€‹


 Prologue: A Kindness

    Amidst the towering scroll racks, a striking woman sat bathed in candlelight, silver-black hair shimmering like the ocean at dawn. Deep sapphire eyes, heavy with exhaustion, traced the faintly glowing rune script on the parchment before her. Another scroll joined the growing pile at her side. With a sigh, she reached for the next.

    Her robes, soft shades of blue and green, flowed with her every movement, blending seamlessly with the shadows of the temple. Her skin had a delicate, almost translucent quality, as if she were somehow a part of this ancient place.

    She leaned back in her seat, stretching away hours of work, and let out a long sigh.

    The temple windows did not open. They shattered.

    Glass exploded as the tall crystalline windows burst inward, raining shards like colored stars. The wind howled through the chamber, extinguishing candles, sending scrolls flying. And through the chaos came a figure¡ªa man in tattered greens and browns, his oathblade flashing in the storm light. He landed in a crouch, rain dripping from his sodden hair, emerald eyes locked onto hers.

    "You know you can always use the front entrance, Tav," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging around them.

    "And you can stop giving me so many reasons to come back to this Essence-forsaken place, Lia," Tavion said, his voice dripping with exasperation.

    In one fluid motion, he took two steps forward, sheathed his blade as he leaned against her large desk. As the hilt snapped shut, the windstorm outside ceased abruptly, leaving only the soft patter of rain to accompany the eerie silence that filled the ancient temple.

    "You know this is important work, Tavion," Liara said, her voice rising with unexpected passion as she stood. Her hands trembled slightly, and her sapphire eyes burned with intensity. "We only have one chance to get this right, or all of our plotting will be for nothing!"

    "That''s the problem, isn''t it?" Tavion shot back, taking a step toward her. His green eyes locked onto hers, matching her glare. "Your plotting and conniving never end, Liara!"

    Before he could take another step, Liara''s hand flew to her oathblade, drawing it just enough to catch the light. "Tavion," she said coldly, "if I remember correctly, it was you who suggested we act during this Solstice."

    The pained look on Tavion''s face only confirmed her words. He hesitated, then placed his blade on the desk between them, the gesture both a concession and a challenge. "There must be another way, Lia," he said, his voice softening. "This is madness... he pulled every last one of us from the dirt and dust and gave us a future. How can we do this to him?"

    His eyes fell, his face a contorted mask of shame. The weight of their betrayal hung heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

    Liara stood silently, resting a hand on her old friend''s shoulder. Her touch was firm, unyielding, as she quietly sheathed her oathblade and placed it next to his. "You know why, Tav," she said, her voice low but steady. "This wasn''t decided last night over supper while you were making your rounds in Sacyr. This has been years in the making." Anger flushed her pale cheeks, deepening the intensity in her sapphire eyes.

    Tavion hesitated, his jaw tightening as he weighed his next words. He knew they would change everything, but today, he would find the courage he''d lacked when they first began this atrocity. This is wrong, Liara. You know it is." His voice was raw, torn between duty and doubt. "Tell me¡ªconvince me that this isn''t madness." his voice trailed off, eyes snaping back up, suddenly full of resolve as he glanced to the blades between them.

    Tavion''s wrist flicked almost imperceptibly, and the air around his oathblade stirred, a faint breeze curling around the scabbard. The blade slid free with a whisper, the steel gleaming in the dim light as it hovered for a moment in midair. But as his fingers reached for the hilt, the room seemed to blur ever slightly, as if viewed through a rippling pool of water. Suddenly his movements were sluggish, taking all his strength to simply move his arm.

    He was too late. She had suspected him all along.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    A cold line of sweat traced Tavion''s forehead as frost began to creep across his dueling hand and the soles of his boots. The chill bit into his skin, sharp and unrelenting. His breath came in shallow gasps, visible in the suddenly frigid air. Liara stood before him, her expression calm but her eyes blazing with a quiet fury. She was older than him, more practiced, and far more dangerous.

    Perhaps I should have attacked the moment I arrived, he thought, his mind racing. But now, with the frost spreading and his hand locked in place, the odds were grim.

    "I can see the conflict on your face, Tavion," Liara said, her voice softening for the first time. "I know you don''t want to do this. And yet, you cling to this self-perception as some kind of hero." She shook her head, her silver-black hair catching the dim light. "None of us are heroes, Tav. Not after Aekeroh. Not after all those poor souls. Now, all we can do is clean up our mess and set it right." Her face soured, as if she''d bitten into something bitter.

    "Aekeroh was a legend long before I was born, Lia," Tavion replied, his voice steady despite the cold creeping up his legs. "Ayla and I may have spent the least time with the master, but that''s given us a perspective unclouded by centuries of regrets and horrors."

    "Leaving you without the long view," Liara shot back, her frustration slipping into her tone again. She began to pace, her robes swirling around her like a storm. "You and Ayla think in terms of decades, not centuries. You''re barely a hundred years old, Tav. You''re a child trying to lecture adults. Deep down, you know that-or you would have spoken against this plan from the start."

    The frost had reached his knees now, its icy grip tightening with every passing second. Tavion''s breath came in visible puffs, and his fingers twitched uselessly at his sides. In a few minutes, he''d be completely immobilized, helpless to stop whatever scheme Liara had concocted this time. Strangely, the thought brought him a measure of comfort. At least then, the decision would be out of his hands.

    "Did you bring Eldaine and Ayla into this," Liara asked, her voice sharp, "or did you come alone?"

    Tavion considered lying, but he knew her gift would see through it in an instant. Today, at least, he would speak the truth. "I was hoping I could convince you," he said, his voice steady despite the cold still gripping his legs. "Believe it or not." The silence between them stretched, their clouded breaths mingling in the frigid air. "We''re often at odds, Lia, but I know you''ve worked harder for the realms than all of us combined."

    Liara''s eyes narrowed as she scanned his face, searching for any hint of deception. Finding none, her expression softened, and with it, the frost encasing his body slowed to a halt. "You won''t change my mind, Tavion," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "I''ve spent years weighing the logic of this plan. It''s the best chance we have to continue the work."

    The determination in her eyes told Tavion everything he needed to know. She would never stop. She would never be convinced. If he wanted to end this, he would have to end her.

    "We''re doing him a kindness, Tav," Liara said, her voice full of resolve.

    The words lingered in the cold air, but Tavion said nothing. The rain tapped against the shattered windowpanes, its rhythm distant, unimportant. Liara inhaled slowly, her fingers brushing the hilt of her oathblade¡ªnot out of threat, but out of habit. She had known this moment would come. That someone, one of them, would falter. The Master had seen it, too. Perhaps he had even counted on it.

    years ago, she had first uncovered the truth. The runes had whispered it to her¡ªhad cursed her with knowledge she could not unlearn.

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    Nine years earlier..

    The temple was silent, save for the soft crackle of candles and the faint rustle of parchment as Liara unrolled another scroll. The runes glimmered faintly in the dim light, their meaning just out of reach, like a half-remembered dream. She had spent centuries deciphering her master''s writings, but this page-this single, fragile page-had eluded her until now.

    Her hand trembled as she traced the symbols, the weight of their meaning settling over her like a shroud. The language was unlike anything she had ever seen, a labyrinth of curves and angles that seemed to shift under her gaze. It was a language not meant for mortal eyes, a language that whispered secrets too vast for any one mind to hold. And yet, she had persisted, driven by a need to understand the man who had given her everything-and who now seemed poised to take it all away.

    The words spoke of a bond, a connection that could not be broken. They spoke of a choice, one that would shape the fate of humanity. And they spoke of him-the Wanderer, the man who had given them everything, only to leave them with nothing but questions.

    Liara leaned back in her chair, her sapphire eyes distant. The others would not understand, not yet. They still saw him as their savior, their guide. But she had seen the truth, hidden beneath layers of riddles and half-truths. The journal was not just a record of his thoughts; it was a map, a guide to a future he had already foreseen. And at its heart was a single, inescapable truth: the bond between the Wanderer and humanity was not a gift, but a chain.

    She thought of the day he had chosen her, so many centuries ago. She had been young then, her mind sharp but untested, her heart full of dreams. He had appeared to her as a beggar, his eyes ancient and knowing, and he had asked her a simple question: "What do you seek?"

    "Knowledge," she had replied without hesitation. "To understand the world, and my place in it."

    He had smiled then, a smile that held both warmth and sorrow. "Knowledge is a heavy burden," he had said. "But if it is what you seek, then I shall grant you it."

    And he had. He had given her power, wisdom, and time-so much time. But now, as she stared at the runes before her, she wondered if it had all been a test. A test of their worthiness, their resolve, their humanity. And if they failed, what then? Would he abandon them, as the journal suggested? Or would he destroy them, as she feared?

    Her hand tightened on the edge of the desk, her nails digging into the wood. She could not let that happen. She would not let that happen. But the cost-the cost was more than she had ever imagined.

    The oathblade at her side hummed faintly, its power a constant reminder of the choice she had made-and the choice she still had to make. She rose from the desk, her robes whispering against the stone floor, and stepped into the shadows. Somewhere, deep beneath the temple, the Wanderer slept. And somewhere, deep within her, a spark of doubt flickered.

 Chapter 1: A Fools Luck

    Gael¡¯s heart pounded in rhythm with his footsteps as he sprinted across the rooftops of Jesarin. The scent of cinnamon loaves wafted up from the streets below¡ªusually a comfort, but today, it barely registered. Behind him, boots thundered against the tiles, curses flying just as fast. The Pelumian district was infamous among thieves for its treacherous stained-glass rooftops¡ªone misstep here meant a long, sharp drop.

    Gael grinned. The risk, the chase, the wind tearing through his hair¡ªthis was freedom. He vaulted over a narrow gap, the glass beneath his feet groaning in protest. Another leap, another rooftop, the city stretching wide beneath him. The guards were persistent, but Jesarin¡¯s skyline was his domain. And he wasn¡¯t about to be caught that easily.

    He squeezed the small gem in his coat pocket, reassuring himself it was still there, then turned to face the guards as he approached a dead end. They were only a few seconds behind now, their faces flushed and their breaths ragged. Gael flashed a smirk and held up the gem, giving it a teasing toss in his hand. "Seems your employer''s got a real soft spot for this little rock, huh?"

    The guards slowed, their eyes darting to the 40-foot drop just a few steps away. One of them raised a hand, his voice calm but edged with threat. "Give it up, lad. Nowhere left to go but down. Give up this little game and we won''t hurt you."

    Gael''s grin widened as they inched closer. "Funny," he said, stepping back toward the edge. "I was just thinking the same thing."

    In one fluid motion, Gael stepped backward off the ledge, the air rushing up around him as he tossed the gem high over the guards'' heads. Their faces twisted in confusion, their attention torn between the plummeting thief and the soaring gem.

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    Lukas huffed as he sped around the corner, nearly knocking over a vendor who let out a surprised squeak as their vegetables tumbled into the air. "Sorry¡ªmy friend''s about to be murdered!" he shouted, not bothering to look back as he darted forward. His eyes flicked upward, tracking the shifting shadows of Gael and the guards high above. The rooftops of Jesarin were a treacherous maze, their stained-glass panels casting fractured rainbows against the stone below. With every step, Gael''s boots skimmed the slick surface, each landing a gamble between speed and a nasty fall. A shard from a shattered pane crunched beneath his heel, sending a sliver of colored light scattering through the air, crashing to the ground a few feet ahead of Lukas.

    "You better not die on me this time, you piece of shit¡ªyou hear me?" Lukas yelled, his voice getting lost in the din of the bustling streets. He skidded around another corner, only to find himself staring at a dead end. His heart sank¡ªuntil he looked up. High above, he could just make out the faint silhouette of Gael, pressed against the edge of the building. The guards were closing in, their heavy boots scraping against the glass tiles.

    Before Lukas could even think of a plan, he saw it¡ªthe unmistakable shift in Gael''s posture, the reckless movements of his body as he stepped off the roof. "Not this shit again," he muttered, already moving.

    Time appeared to stretch as Lukas''s thoughts spiraled. Gael had pulled off reckless moves like this in the past, but familiarity didn''t dull the edge of worry. The alley was tight, crammed with scattered crates and debris, its uneven surface a harsh reminder of the stakes. Lukas''s pulse thundered as his eyes darted across the scene, desperate for a glimpse of where Gael might land¡ªor worse, the grim possibility of failure.

    Lukas barely had time to register the shadow hurtling toward him before the air itself seemed to bend. A sudden burst of wind rattled the shutters beside him, followed by another¡ªeach one slowing Gael''s plummet by a fraction. Still too fast. Not enough.

    Then¡ªone last pulse. Gael hit the ground hard, knees buckling just as Lukas lunged forward, catching his arm before they both collapsed outright. "You absolute lunatic," Lukas hissed. "What if that hadn''t worked?"

    Gael exhaled sharply, shaking out his hand as though the effort had left it numb. "Then you''d be scraping me off the stones, wouldn''t you?" He flashed a grin, but Lukas didn''t miss the way his fingers trembled.

    "You know, you''re a lot heavier than you look," Lukas wheezed, his broad shoulders heaving as he shoved Gael off of him. Despite his stocky build, Lukas moved with surprising agility, his light grey eyes glinting with amusement as sweat dripped off his dark cropped hair.

    Gael rolled to his feet, brushing himself off with a few practiced movements. "And you''re softer than you look. Thanks for the save." The two boys clasped hands with a knowing nod.

    "Next time, warn me before you jump," Lukas shot back, though with no real heat in his words. He knew Gael''s reckless confidence was part of what made him so effective¡ªeven if it already began to give Lukas gray hairs well before his 15th autumn.

    Before they could catch their breath, the sound of boots hitting the ground nearby made them both freeze. One of the guards had made it down, his face red with exertion and his hand already on the hilt of his sword. Gael''s grin didn''t falter as he tucked the gem in his coat pocket. "I''ll figure out an escape route¡ªyou handle him."

    Lukas nodded knowingly, his fists already taut and crackling with faint arcs of lightning. His stocky build shifted into a fighter''s stance, his high cheekbones and wide-set jaw giving him a determined, almost feral look. "Finally, something I''m good at," he muttered, his voice low as a quick incantation rolled off his tongue.

    The guard charged, his blade swinging in a wide arc. Lukas darted to the side in a burst of speed, small arcs of energy flowing across his legs as he easily sidestepped the blow. He jabbed at the guard''s ribs, the lightning sparking on contact and making the man stagger and groan, grabbing at his chest in pain. The guard swung again blindly, but Lukas was already moving, his fists a blur as he landed another quick jab into his ribs. A final, electrified uppercut sent the guard sprawling into the cobblestone, his sword clattering to the ground uselessly a few feet away.

    "Not bad. I would''ve dropped him in two hits, though," Gael said with a wink, already running toward the far wall. His hands ran along the stone, searching for one of the many hidden paths built into so-called "dead ends"¡ªescape routes crafted by local gangs to move unseen through the city.

    Lukas glanced back towards the street only to see the second guard rounding the corner, his face a mask of fury. "Keep dreaming buddy, now find us a way out of here, it looks like we have some more company,." he said, tightening the wrappings around his fists. "I''ll cover your back."

    Gael could only smile. "Sticking to the plan then, are we?"

    "Your plans are the literal worst, but they''ve gotten us this far, I suppose." Lukas muttered, already falling into step behind Gael, his fists raised and crackling with energy.

    The two of them darted through the narrow passage, and down another alleyway, the shouts of the guards fading behind them. Gael''s laughter rang out, bright and reckless, as they disappeared into the labyrinth of Jesarin''s streets, the gem safely tucked away in his pocket.

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    Nearly an hour later, out of breath and hearts still racing, Lukas and Gael ducked behind a tattered sheet hanging loosely from the side of a building. Beneath it, hidden from casual view, was a narrow hole just large enough for them to squeeze through. After a few cautious steps down and a tighter squeeze than either boy liked¡ªGael grumbling about Lukas''s increasingly broad shoulders¡ªthey arrived at what their small group of street urchins liked to call their "hideout." In reality, it was little more than a well-hidden hole in the wall, tucked just outside the territory of rival gangs. It wasn''t much, but it was safe¡ªor at least as safe as anything could be in Jesarin.

    The hideout opened into two surprisingly spacious rooms completely sealed off from the building above. Despite their best efforts, the group had yet to find a way up into the main structure, leaving the origins of the space a bit of a mystery.

    The smaller of the two rooms served as their living quarters, a chaotic but cozy nest of mismatched fabrics and personal belongings. Cloth mattresses and pillows of varying colors¡ªsome faded, some patched together¡ªwere strewn across the floor, creating a haphazard mosaic of comfort. Bags, cloaks, and other small trinkets lay scattered about, each item a testament to the lives of the street urchins who called this place home. The air carried the faint scent of old fabric and the lingering warmth of too many bodies crammed into one space.

    The larger room, where Gael and Lukas now entered, was far more utilitarian. Crudely drawn maps adorned the walls, their edges curling with age. Pins and charcoal marks tracked the movements of rival gangs and potential targets, a visual representation of their precarious existence. In the center of the room stood a single long rectangular desk, its oak surface scarred and stained from years of use. It was cluttered with knives, half-finished gadgets, and stacks of papers covered in scribbled notes and diagrams. The room hummed with purpose, a stark contrast to the lived-in chaos of the sleeping quarters.

    The hideout was unusually quiet. As Gael and Lukas ducked inside, brushing past the threadbare tapestry that served as their door, the low hum of something mechanical filled the space.

    Vess didn''t even look up. She was hunched over a small, pear-sized device on the workbench, her fingers carefully tracing the thin silver runes etched into its surface. The dim light of the hideout flickered across its smooth metal casing, revealing fine, intricate carvings that pulsed faintly with stored energy.

    "Took you long enough," she muttered. "I thought you''d gotten yourselves killed. Again."

    Lukas wiped the sweat from his brow. "Almost. He decided falling off a roof was a solid strategy." motioning towards Gael with a wag of a finger.

    Vess snorted, still focused on the device. "And I assume you just stood there and watched?"

    "I caught him!"

    "Barely," Gael added with a smirk.

    Vess sighed, her fingers pausing over the delicate rune pattern as she finally glanced up. Her sharp gaze swept over them¡ªdirty clothes, scuffed boots, lingering adrenaline in their eyes. Then, she spotted the green gem clutched in Gael''s hand.

    The essence censor was suddenly forgotten.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Wait." She slid off the workbench, stepping closer. "You¡ªyou actually pulled it off?" Her voice was hushed, reverent. She reached out, hesitating just before touching the gem. Its eerie glow painted the lines of her face in green light. "Please tell me this isn''t what I think it is."

    Gael flashed a quick grin. "Depends. If you think we just swiped a rare artifact from the all-powerful Madam Ores, then congrats¡ªyou''re officially sharper than her guards." He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "They''re not going to be thrilled when they realize I tossed them a fake."

    Vess exhaled sharply, her fingers pressing into her temples. "You just stole from the most dangerous woman in Jesarin." She drew a slow breath, her head shaking in disbelief. "And she doesn''t rely on common guards. Those were likely hired by the seller. If her real knight had been there, you''d both be dead."

    Gael raised an eyebrow. "Just how rich is this lady? I didn''t know people could afford to hire a Magi-Knight.¡±

    Vess just rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh she''s rich alright, and I''ve seen what her knight can do first hand, don''t underestimate him.¡±

    Lukas snorted, flexing his fingers as he unwound the bloody wraps binding his fists.

    Gael''s grin faltered for a moment, but he recovered with a shrug. "Well, lucky for us, he wasn''t there. And if he shows up, we''ll handle him like we handle everything else¡ª"

    "By punching him, taking his shit, and running away?" Lukas cut in, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

    "I was going to say with the style and grace of the Traveler himself," Gael shot back, his grin widening. "But yeah, your plan works too."

    Vess groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You both are incredibly efficient at getting on my nerves." Her tone was sharp, but her gaze lingered on the gem a bit longer than Gael would have liked. Vess didn''t scare easily¡ªin fact, he''d only seen her truly frightened once in the three years they''d known each other, but today she looked genuinely frightened.

    Vess stepped closer to the gem, her dark amber eyes narrowing as she studied it. Her movements were deliberate, almost predatory, as she circled the artifact. The oversized black jumper she wore hung loosely on her slender frame, swaying slightly with each step. Her jet-black hair, straight and smooth, brushed against her cheeks as she tilted her head, the faint glow of essence burns along her left side flickering in response to the gem''s eerie light.

    The gem sat heavy in Gael''s palm, its weight unnatural for its size. Deep within its glassy surface, swirling veins of emerald light pulsed and coiled like something alive was swimming through the stone. When the lamplight struck it just right, the glow didn''t just reflect¡ªit shifted. Vess reached out but hesitated, her fingers hovering just above its surface. The air around it felt... charged.

    For a moment, the room was still except for the faint hum of the essence censor still lying on the workbench. Then Vess let out a low whistle, breaking the silence. "Do you two have any idea how much trouble you''ve just brought down on us if they find you with this?" she asked, though there was a hint of admiration in her voice. "This isn''t just some power source. This is... this is dangerous."

    Gael grinned, his usual confidence worn like a trusty cloak. He leaned casually against the table, his shoulder-length brown hair¡ªslightly curly and tousled from the chase¡ªfalling into his deep green eyes. He brushed it back with a quick motion. "Dangerous is what we do best," he said, his bushy eyebrows lifting in a playful challenge. "Plus, you did say that censor thing needed a power supply."

    Vess simply rolled her eyes, her expression torn between frustration and reluctant agreement. "I didn''t mean this," she said, gesturing to the gem. "I''m not even sure what this thing does, forget about it powering anything" She reached out, her fingers hovering just above the gem as if afraid to touch it. "Did you two find out anything about it before you lifted it from the seller?"

    Lukas shrugged, his face unreadable. "We know it''s valuable. And we know it contains a shit-ton of essence. That''s enough."

    Vess let out a short, humorless laugh. "Well, that settles it¡ªLukas is officially in charge of all our heists. Under his expert leadership, we''ll never run out of essence-dense objects to nearly die over!"

    Lukas shot her a sour look, but Gael barked out a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. "A true visionary!" he declared, grinning. That, finally, stole a reluctant smile out of Lukas.

    "You know what they say about essence-dense objects, don''t you?" Gael waggled his eyebrows, glancing between them for a reaction,. only to be met with silence.

    He sighed, waving his hands in defeat. "Fine! You two are no fun. It''s all yours, Vess." Tossing the gem towards the girl, who very quickly grabbed it out of the air with a concerned look on her face.

    "Do whatever you have to do to understand that thing, Vess¡ªlet''s see if this rock was actually worth all the trouble it caused us."

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    Problem-solving had always been Vanessa''s gift¡ªand her joy. As a child, she''d spent hours hunched over the intricate puzzles her father brought back from his travels across the realms, her small fingers tracing the grooves and edges until the solution clicked into place. Now, as the faint pulse of the gem warmed her palms, she couldn''t help but miss the simplicity of those days.

    The gem glimmered faintly in the dim light, its surface etched with carvings that seemed to shift under her gaze. Vess turned it over slowly, her fingers brushing against the grooves, each one a whisper of something ancient and powerful. The air around it seemed to hum, a low, steady vibration that resonated in her chest.

    Gael and Lukas lingered nearby, their usual banter replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. Gael shifted his weight from foot to foot, his arms crossed, while Lukas leaned forward, his sharp eyes darting between Vess and the gem. Their quiet tension was familiar¡ªit always appeared when they needed her to figure out something they couldn''t.

    Time slipped away as she studied the artifact. The carvings spiraled inward like the roots of a great tree, their patterns too precise to be the work of any modern gem cutter. The gem''s pulse quickened faintly under her touch, as if responding to her scrutiny. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of its energy guide her thoughts. It wasn''t just a gem. It was something alive, something old. But what?

    Her eyes flicked to the useless censor she''d been tinkering with earlier, its runes dull and lifeless. On a whim, she placed the gem near it, holding her breath. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like a spark catching flame, the runes flared to life, their faint glow spreading across the metal surface in a web of light. The air around the censor seemed to ripple, as if stirred by an invisible breeze. Vess blinked, her mind racing. The runes. The gem really was supplying the essence the runes needed to power the censor, but how? That shouldn''t be possible...

    Gael let out a low whistle, breaking the silence. "Well, will you look at that? It is a power source, after all."

    Lukas, ever the pragmatist, was already moving. He snatched the only other rune-etched object they had¡ªa small handheld lighter Vess often used, its fire runes rendering it useless to the others.

    He thrust it toward her, his expression a mix of curiosity and impatience. "Here. Let''s see what else this thing can do."

    Vess hesitated, her fingers tightening around the gem. The lighter felt heavy in her other hand, its familiar weight suddenly foreign. She glanced at Gael and Lukas, their expectant faces lit by the censor''s faint glow. How could she explain something she barely understood herself? The gem hummed softly in her grip, as if urging her forward. Taking a deep breath, she brought the gem closer to the lighter, bracing herself for...

    Nothing.

    The lighter sat inert, its runes dark and lifeless. Only when Vess willed a flicker of her own essence into the device did it sputter to life, its gears clicking and whirring as a steady flame erupted from the top.

    "Well that was a let down," Lukas said, scratching his head lazily.

    "Air runes," Gael interjected, sounding very proud of himself. "It only supplies air essence. That''s why it works for the censor but not for the lighter." He crossed his arms, looking far too pleased with himself.

    "Correct," Vess said, her gaze lingering on the gem. "And it didn''t just power the censer¡ªit lit up all nine runes in under a second. That''s a massive amount of essence, enough to keep it running at full capacity for..." She trailed off, her eyes widening as the realization hit her. The censor had been glowing steadily for over three minutes now, its runes still bright and unwavering. The implications of what they were holding began to sink in, sending a shiver down her spine. An artifact like this didn''t just change the game¡ªit rewrote the rules entirely.

    "This thing''s a damn miracle," Gael muttered, his voice tinged with awe.

    Before they could celebrate further, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance. Lander ducked into the hideout, his face flushed and his chest heaving from running. "What the hell is going on in here?" he demanded, his eyes widening as they landed on the glowing gem and the fully powered censer. "Is that¡ª?"

    "Yep," Gael said, his grin stretching ear to ear. "We''ve got ourselves a power source."

    Vess quickly filled Lander in, her words tumbling out faster than usual as she explained what they''d discovered. Even as she spoke, her own excitement didn''t wane. What they had here could make them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams¡ªa fact she was sure had crossed each of their minds at least once in the past hour.

    "This changes everything," Lander said, his voice low and tinged with awe. "If we can figure out how to harness this properly¡ª"

    "We''ll be unstoppable," Gael finished, his grin widening.

    "I was going to say richer than a warlord," Lukas interjected, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "But please, do explain how this thing makes us unstoppable."

    Gael''s eyes sparkled as he turned to face Lukas. "Powering runes is fine, sure. Find the right buyer, and we''re set for life¡ª Pelumian villas and all. But imagine an air magi with infinite essence at their disposal. That''s not just wealth. That''s power." He paused, his gaze drifting back to the gem, its twisting energies pulling him in like a moth to a flame.

    A sly smile spread across his face, the kind that usually meant trouble. "And wouldn''t you know it? I just happen to know the perfect guy for the job."

    <figure>

    </figure>

    Gael peeked out from behind the tattered sheet, scanning the alley for unwanted eyes. The street was eerily quiet, the usual hum of the city replaced by an unsettling stillness. Even the air felt heavier, as if the shadows themselves were holding their breath. He shook off the feeling, paranoia wouldn''t get them anywhere.

    "Coast is clear," he whispered, motioning for the others to follow. But as he stepped into the alley, a faint metallic clink echoed from the darkness ahead. He froze, his hand instinctively going to the gem in his pocket. "Did you hear that?"

    Lukas shrugged. "It''s probably nothing, let''s get moving before someone actually does show up."

    "Good advice."

    The voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The air shifted¡ªa prickle at the back of Gael''s neck, a warning he''d learned not to ignore. He turned, but it was too late. A massive figure stepped out of the shadows, armor gleaming in the moonlight. Before any of them could react, the knight''s gauntleted fist connected with Lukas''s chest, sending him crashing into the alley wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him as he slumped to the ground, dazed.

    Gael reacted instantly, one hand flying up, the other clutching the gem in his coat pocket. The air around him surged, rippling with energy as a shockwave erupted, sending loose debris flying. But the knight barely flinched. The concentrated blast of air washed over his polished armor before flicking his sword, redirecting the force into the alley wall, sending dust flying into the air. The rebound hit Gael like a hammer, throwing him back ten feet. He hit the ground hard, his vision swimming, the taste of copper fresh in his mouth.

    "Oh, good. You have the Catalyst on you." The man approached Gael casually, as if he were on an evening stroll. By the time he reached down and plucked the gem from Gael''s pocket, Vess was already squeezing the rune-etched lighter from before, pouring her essence into it. The runes lit up a bright crimson, and the air around her began to shimmer faintly.

    The knight let out a surprised whistle, pressing his heavy metal sabaton into Gael''s chest, causing him to cough and struggle under the weight.

    Vess let out a wild scream, her hands igniting with raw fire. "Falorn Hirath!" she shouted, her voice dripping with resolve. A torrent of flames came pouring out of the lighter, wrapping around her hand, and pouring towards the knight. Infuriatingly he seemed completely unphased by the jet of flames shooting at his face. In a calm, low voice, he simply repeated her incantation backward.

    "Htarih Nrolaf."

    The fire sputtered in her outstretched hand, then dissolved into black-tinged nothingness. She dropped to her knees, gasping, before collapsing onto her stomach, her fists clenched in frustration.

    "Essence withdrawal isn''t very fun is it?" The knight flexed his gauntlet as specks of shadow dripped off his hand, floating upwards towards the sky before dissolving.

    Lukas struggled to his feet, finally catching his breath enough to move. He was clearly favoring one side, but he inched toward the knight anyway, hands raised in his usual brawler''s stance.

    The knight appraised Lukas for a moment before giving a slight nod, challenging him forward.

    And that''s exactly what the idiot did. Without a second thought, Lukas rushed the knight wearing full rune-plate, a grin plastered across his face. It might have been inspiring¡ªif Gael hadn''t been too busy trying to figure out how to breathe again, each inhale catching in his throat like a trapped bird.

    The knight shifted his stance slightly, his foot still planted firmly on Gael''s chest, as Lukas''s wild swing missed entirely, sending him stumbling forward. With almost casual precision, the knight brought the hilt of his sword down in a swift arc, catching Lukas across the temple, causing him to crumple mid-step, his momentum carrying him into a heap next to Vess.

    "Well," the knight said, turning to face them, his voice carrying a tone of reluctance. "You''re full of surprises, I''ll give you that.¡±

    He crouched down, his armored knees creaking, and tilted his head as he studied Gael, Vess, and Lukas. Gael was still struggling to breathe under the weight of the knight''s boot, Vess was sprawled on the ground, her fingers twitching weakly, and Lukas was out cold. The knight sighed, as if the whole situation were mildly inconvenient.

    "Here''s the deal," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You three come with me now, and I''ll take you to Madam Ores. She''s always looking for... talent. And you''ve got just enough of it to make her curious. Or¡ª" He shrugged, standing back up and resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. "You can try your luck with me again."

    Gael coughed, his voice rasping as he managed to choke out, "Not much of a choice, is it?"

    "It''s more than you deserve. Now, get up. If you can walk, follow. If not..." He gestured vaguely to the dark alley around them. "Let''s just say I wouldn''t recommend staying here."

    Vess groaned, pushing herself up onto her elbows. Her arms trembled, but she managed to sit upright, her fiery glare fixed on the knight. "You''re not exactly selling this," she muttered.

    "I''m not here to sell it," the knight replied, his tone dry. "I''m here to return the artifact and apprehend the thieves, that''s it."

    Before Gael could even check on Lukas, the knight had already scooped him up, slinging him over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Lukas''s head lolled, a thin trail of drool dripping onto the knight''s shoulder plate.

    Gael had heard stories about the enhanced strength and agility knights gained from their rune-plate, but seeing it in action was something else entirely. The man moved with the speed and precision of a duelist, yet he carried Lukas''s dead weight as if it were nothing. It was such an unnatural combination, and yet Gael struggled to look away, his fascination winning out over his fear.

    The knight watched them with an unreadable expression, then turned and began walking down the alley, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silence. "Keep up," he called over his shoulder. "Madam Ores doesn''t like to be kept waiting."

 Chapter 2: What is Owed

    <figure>

    </figure>

    The walk across the city was brisk¡ªfar brisker than Gael would have liked, especially with the bruises forming across his back with every step. If the knight worried about the injuries he caused, he hid it very well. Luckily, it was nearly midnight, and the city had settled into a quieter rhythm, making it easier to keep an eye on the knight''s steady pace ahead of them. Their progress, however, was slowed by the knight''s seemingly random detours, looping through alleys and side streets. Gael was certain they''d circled the same block twice. It didn''t take a genius to figure out the knight didn''t trust them¡ªor want them to remember the way back to wherever he was taking them.

    After the third stop, when Vess nearly collapsed, the knight finally relented and started a fire in a nearby alley. Vess sank to the ground beside it, her face pale but determined as she leaned into the warmth despite the sweat already beading down her face. The fire seemed to steady her, and after only a minute, she was back on her feet, breathing easier and her strength returning. Gael offered her his hand, pulling her up to her feet before falling into step together, trailing behind the knight as he carried Lukas''s limp form over his shoulder.

    Gael watched Vess carefully, noting the way she moved¡ªthe familiar sharpness creeping back into her eyes, the set of her shoulders. She was piecing herself back together, little by little.

    "What do the withdrawals feel like?" he asked, keeping his voice light, though concern pooled beneath the surface.

    Vess let out a short, humorless laugh. "Like shit. What do you think?" She kicked at a loose stone, sending it skipping down the path. "Like whatever makes me, me has been ripped out¡ªlike I''m hollow and stretched too thin all at once."

    Gael considered that, stealing a glance at her from the corner of his eye. He could still picture the way she''d crumpled earlier, breath ragged, fingers trembling. Essence withdrawals weren''t something he''d ever realistically have to worry about¡ªhe was always surrounded by air, his reserve constantly replenishing, unless he burned through it all at once. But for Vess, it was different. More finite.

    "Does it always hit you like that?"

    Vess shook her head. "No. This was different." She hesitated, her expression darkening. "When he broke my spell, it wasn''t just gone¡ªit was like he reached inside me and tore the rest of my essence away. Every thread of magic I had left, plucked like a string. My whole body just... gave out."

    A shiver ran through her despite the thick, dry heat pressing in around them. Without thinking, Gael shifted a little closer, just near enough that their arms nearly brushed.

    Vess lowered her voice. "Gael... what are we going to do if he changes his mind? or his employer doesn''t find us interesting after all?"

    His gaze flicked toward the knight leading them, who had slowed at a fork in the road. The thought had crossed his mind once or twice since they had agreed to follow him, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn''t figure a way out of this one. Just ahead, the knight glanced between the two paths, frowning slightly before finally turning left. For a brief second, Gael wondered if the man even knew where he was going. That should''ve reassured him. It didn''t.

    Gael exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it comes to that, I''ll try to blow his sword from his hand before he sees it coming. That should buy us a few seconds. From there, I need you blast us an escape route. Then we grab Lukas and run like hell."

    It wasn''t a great plan. It wasn''t even a particularly good one. But saying it out loud made it feel real¡ªlike they had some grip, however fragile, on the chaos closing in around them. A way to push back against the inevitable, even if only for a moment.

    Vess simply nodded, not even bothering to point out the glaring weaknesses in the plan. If it came to another fight, they''d be even worse off, down a man and backed into a corner. But saying that aloud wouldn''t do much for morale.

    Gael clenched his jaw. If only he had known how to use the gem¡ªno, the catalyst, as the knight had called it. If he had drawn more essence from it when casting his cantrip, maybe... just maybe. But wishful thinking wouldn''t change the past. He needed to focus on the present¡ªon keeping himself and the others valuable enough that this man had a reason to keep them alive.

    When the knight finally led them to their destination, Gael was surprised to find they had ended up in the Rakan district¡ªJesarin''s heart of industry. Unlike the polished opulence of the Pelumian district or the merchant wealth of Calabast, Rakan was built on sweat and fire. The air here carried the tang of scorched metal, coal dust, and oil, thick enough that Gael could almost taste it. For every cracked stone and soot-streaked wall, there was a forge behind it, belching smoke into the sky. The streets, though uneven and worn, bore deep grooves from decades of heavy carts hauling ore, ingots, and machinery. The people moved with purpose¡ªapprentices lugging supplies, blacksmiths with soot-stained arms, artisans shouting orders over the constant clang of hammer on steel, despite the late hour.

    The building they stopped in front of looked no different from its neighbors¡ªweathered red brick, soot-darkened stonework, and iron fixtures rusted at the edges. Some windows were cracked, others patched with cloth or boarded up entirely. Gael frowned. "Are you sure we''re in the right place?"

    The words had barely left his mouth before he regretted them. The knight shot him a sharp, annoyed glare, his patience clearly thinning.

    "Just get your asses inside. And don''t touch anything. We can always go back on the not killing you thing."

    Gael swallowed whatever comeback had been forming on his tongue.

    The knight produced an intricate brass key, etched with tiny runes that pulsed faintly as he turned it in the lock. The door it opened was out of place¡ªthick, reinforced, more like something guarding a vault than a worn-down home in a working-class district. The seams of the heavy metal frame were lined with delicate rune script, swirling in patterns that meant nothing to Gael. But the moment the key clicked into place, those runes pulsed to life, glowing briefly with a soft, cold light before fading.

    Then, with a low, mechanical groan, the door swung outward toward them.

    Gael exchanged a wary glance with Vess before stepping inside, the air beyond the threshold thick with the scent of Cinnamon and parchment. Whatever this place was, it was much more than it seemed.

    ____________________

    The interior of the building was unlike anything Gael had ever seen. The walls were alive with color¡ªmurals depicting sweeping landscapes, celestial bodies entwined in vibrant arcs, and scenes of battle frozen in exquisitely bloody detail. The paintings themselves seemed to shimmer under the glow of carefully placed lanterns, the flickering light catching on the veins of gold and silver inlaid within their frames. Every inch of the space had been crafted with purpose, from the polished mahogany furniture¡ªeach piece an obvious work of master craftsmanship¡ªto the embroidered rugs that softened their footsteps against the stone floor.

    It was overwhelming.

    Gael had spent most of his life navigating the rougher districts of Jesarin, where this level of wealth was unheard of. Here, wealth wasn''t just displayed¡ªit was woven into the very bones of the place, a quiet and unshakable statement of power. Such a stark contrast too the exterior, which he now realized must be a charm, a powerful one at that.

    His fingers twitched.

    Then his eyes caught something¡ªa small, delicate figurine on a nearby table. A carved falcon, no bigger than his palm, crafted from what looked like solid silver, its wings outstretched in mid-flight. It was just sitting there, unattended. So lonely.

    No one would miss it.

    His gaze flicked toward the knight leading them, but the man''s back was to him, his focus locked on the path ahead.

    Gael exhaled, his fingers brushing the air as he released a barely audible whistle¡ªa silent command woven into his breath. The stillness around him stirred, disturbed only by the faintest ripple. The falcon quivered on its base, then, with a whisper of wind, it darted towards him, gliding soundlessly into his waiting sleeve.

    By the time the knight glanced back, Gael''s hands were clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    They reached the end of the hall, stopping before a set of grand double doors. Carved from deep, dark wood, they were adorned with intricate runework that pulsed faintly with an internal glow. At their center, an ornate brass door knocker shaped like a swan gleamed under the lamplight.

    The knight didn''t hesitate. He rapped the knocker three times, the sharp sound cutting through the hush of the corridor. Without another word, he turned on his heel, already lugging Lukas away.

    "Find me when she''s finished with you," he called over his shoulder. "I''ll see to this one''s head."

    Gael barely had time to process that before the runes along the door''s seams flickered, shifting from a dull glow to a brief, vibrant pulse. Then, with a slow, deliberate creak, the heavy doors unlocked and began to swing open.

    Inside his sleeve, his fingers curled around the cold silver falcon.

    He allowed himself the ghost of a smirk.

    <figure>

    </figure>

    Lukas drifted toward consciousness, dragged upward by a dull, insistent throbbing behind his temple.

    His first instinct was to groan, but his throat was dry, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Blinking against the light filtering through the room, he took in his surroundings¡ªpolished marble floors, elaborate tapestries, a ceiling so high it made the space feel cavernous. This was unlike any dungeon he had ever heard of.

    A figure sat beside him, sleeves rolled up, methodically wringing out a bloodied cloth into a basin. The man''s armor was gone, replaced by a simple tunic and trousers, but even without the heavy plating, he knew this man was dangerous.

    "Welcome back," the man said. He pressed a fresh bandage to Lukas''s head, securing it with a firm tap. "You''ve got a hard skull, kid. I''ll give you that."

    Lukas winced, swatting at the man''s hand. "Yeah, well, your sword''s got an even harder pommel clearly.

    The man let out the faintest huff of amusement, but his expression didn''t change. "Lurras," he offered. "Figured you''d want to know the name of the man who beat you"

    Lukas groaned, rolling his head back against the pillow. "Oh, good. Now I know who to blame when my head explodes." He cracked one eye open, squinting at Lurras as a thought struck him. "Wait. If you''re here, does that mean we''re dead?"

    "If you were, I wouldn''t be cleaning you up," Lurras muttered, dipping the cloth into the basin again. He wrung it out with a practiced squeeze, the water turning faintly pink.

    Lukas blinked, his thoughts still sluggish. "Where''s¡ª"

    "Your friends? With Ores." Lurras didn''t look up. "Talking." He set the cloth aside and reached for a fresh bandage. "I don''t really do talking."

    He pressed the bandage to Lukas''s head, securing it with a firm tap¡ªmore forceful than necessary.

    Lukas winced. "Yeah, got that impression."

    His voice was calm, but Lukas caught the brief flicker of something in his expression¡ªsomething unreadable. And then he noticed it. A folded letter, its seal already broken, set aside near the basin. The wax emblem was unfamiliar, but the quality of the parchment told Lukas enough. It was important.

    "You don''t seem too thrilled," Lukas remarked, nodding toward it.

    Lurras exhaled through his nose, barely glancing at the letter. "Word came this morning. I''ve been called to compete in the Grand Tournament this year."

    Lukas blinked, momentarily forgetting the pain in his skull. "Congratulations."

    Lurras didn''t answer right away. He merely looked at Lukas, his silence stretching just long enough to make it awkward. Then, with the slightest shift of his jaw, he added, "Yeah."

    That was it. No excitement. No pride. Just that single word.

    Lukas frowned, watching him for a beat longer, but Lurras was already moving, already onto something else. A pair of padded gloves landed in Lukas''s lap.

    "Up for a rematch?" he asked, rolling his shoulders as he stepped back.

    Lukas hesitated, studying the man who had dismantled his crew like it was nothing. Every rational thought told him to refuse. But then there was the other part¡ªthe reckless part, the one that never knew when to walk away.

    "You''re not gonna wear your fancy armor this time?"

    "Not this time," Lurras repeated, shifting into a loose stance. "Figured I''d give you a fighting chance."

    Lukas grinned, pushing himself to his feet despite the lingering ache. "You''re gonna regret that."

    They began to circle each other, Lukas moving light on his feet, testing the space with small, deliberate shifts in weight. Lurras, in contrast, barely moved at all. He didn''t need to. His presence alone was imposing¡ªrooted, solid, an unmoving wall of flesh and bone. There was no wasted energy in how he moved, no unnecessary shifts in balance.

    Lukas darted forward first, feinting left before twisting into a quick jab. Lurras reacted with frightening ease¡ªhis arm came up just enough to deflect the strike, his movement so economical it felt like he was barely trying.

    "Faster than I expected," Lurras admitted, eyes sharp as he tracked Lukas''s every shift. "But you tried that last time, mix up your attacks a bit."

    "You rea¡ª" Lukas started, but Lurras was already moving.

    A sharp pivot, a step in, and suddenly Lukas was on the defensive, forced to weave around a flurry of precise, blistering strikes. Too fast for someone that size. Lurras didn''t move like a brawler¡ªhe moved like a killer.

    Lukas gritted his teeth, adjusting. He had speed, agility¡ªhe just needed an opening. Something Lurras wouldn''t see coming.

    "You gonna tell me how you did it?" he asked between dodges, slipping just out of range of another sharp blow. "That night, I mean. We''ve been in tight spots before, but never like that."

    Lurras dodged a jab, countering with a sharp tap to Lukas''s ribs¡ªprecise, controlled. "Shadow affinity," he said simply. "Lets me slip through spells, disrupt them before they take hold. That''s part of it, anyway."

    Lukas narrowed his eyes, circling. "Part of it?"

    Lurras didn''t slow. "The real difference?" He knocked aside Lukas''s next strike with almost lazy efficiency. "Rune-plate."

    Lukas exhaled sharply, stepping back just out of reach. "So, what, all that was the armor, not you?"

    Lurras snorted. "No. But it helps. Strengthens essence flow, enhances reflexes, dampens impact. You''d be surprised how much it tilts a fight."

    He considered that, then flicked his fingers. A thin shadow stretched from his palm, curling like ink in water before dissolving in the air" Figured out how to do that when I was a kid," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Lightning came later."

    Lurras''s expression didn''t shift, but Lukas caught the flicker of interest in his eyes.

    "So," Lukas pressed, stepping in with a feint before retreating, "you gonna teach me that trick, or am I stuck figuring it out the hard way?"

    Lurras''s eyes brightened at that. "Hard way''s faster."

    Hard way it is.

    <figure>

    </figure>

    If the shameless opulence of the hallways had been impressive, the room before him was something else entirely¡ªless a chamber and more a world of its own. The first thing that struck Gael was the sheer harmony of it, as if every element had been placed with deliberate, painstaking care.

    Silk-draped lanterns bathed the space in a warm, golden glow, their embroidered patterns casting delicate, shifting shapes across the walls. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and jasmine, a soft, lingering perfume that made the space feel timeless, untouched by the outside world.

    A koi pond, far too extravagant to be indoors, curved along one side of the chamber, its waters alive with vibrant fish that danced beneath the surface. Smooth stepping stones wove through the pond like a path to nowhere, their edges kissed by trailing fronds of jade-green bamboo that swayed ever so slightly, despite the absence of wind.

    The far wall was a masterpiece of artistry¡ªan enormous, hand-painted mural depicting a golden dragon winding through rolling mist, its eyes of polished lapis seeming almost to follow him as he stepped inside.

    Vess must have been just as stunned, though for a different reason. Her face had gone stark white, but her wide-eyed stare wasn¡¯t on the koi pond or the carefully cultivated bamboo grove. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the woman seated before them¡ªa regal, grandmotherly figure poised in a throne of plush velvet and gleaming gold. She watched them with quiet amusement, her presence effortless yet imposing, as if the room itself bent to accommodate her.

    "I''m told you are the ones who ruined my day."

    Ores¡¯s voice was smooth, deliberate¡ªeach word measured in a slow, almost melodic cadence.

    Without thinking, Gael shot back, "If it makes you feel any better, your man ruined ours even worse."

    A ripple of silence followed, the air thickening¡ªnot from anger, but something far more dangerous. Amusement.

    The corners of Ores¡¯s lips curved ever so slightly, the barest trace of a smile forming. But it was her eyes that spoke louder than anything else¡ªcalculating, assessing, weighing his worth with every beath. There was no flash of offense, no visible irritation, only a quiet shift in her posture, as if she were adjusting the pieces of a game already in motion.

    Vess, however, was not nearly as composed. Her fingers clamped onto Gael¡¯s sleeve in a tight, urgent grip, yanking him back as she shook her head. No words were needed¡ªthe look in her eyes said enough.

    "I assure you, young man, that is not the case." Ores rose from her throne with unhurried grace, leaning on a cane of polished ebony, its handle sculpted into the elegant curve of a swan, inlaid with gleaming gemstones. The soft rustle of her silk robes was the only sound in the vast chamber as she took a measured step forward. "For two years, I carved a path as one sharpens a blade¡ªpatient, precise, and without waste¡ªonly for it to be dulled in an instant, for what?" She let the words settle, her gaze shifting between them, her tone carrying the weight of something absolute.

    Gael felt a prickle at the back of his neck. The weight of her presence settled over him, and in that moment, he understood the knight¡¯s temper. He could try another quip, stall for time, and hope luck carried him through like it always did. But something told him today was different¡ªshe was different.

    Instead, he took a measured breath and chose his words carefully, if only to keep Vess from tearing his sleeve off. He shifted his weight, his boots scuffing against the polished floor as he met Madam Ores¡¯s gaze.

    "Honestly?" he said, running a hand through his hair. "I didn¡¯t know what it really was until an hour before the drop. Just that it was insanely valuable. By then, we were weeks into planning. Once we found out you were the buyer..." He hesitated, glancing at Vess, who stood stiffly beside him. "Half my crew told me to walk away."

    He exhaled sharply, gesturing loosely at their surroundings¡ªthe dim glow of enchanted lanterns, the heavy tapestries that seemed to swallow sound, the faint hum of magic that set his teeth on edge.

    "Clearly," he muttered. "I should¡¯ve listened."

    Madam Ores leaned back in her ornate chair, lowering her reading glasses with a slow, deliberate motion. The golden chain caught the light, glinting like a snare tightening around them. Her expression remained unreadable, but her eyes¡ªsharp, weighing, dissecting¡ªmade Gael¡¯s stomach twist.

    She studied him for a lingering moment before shifting her attention to Vess, her lips curling into something just shy of a smile.

    "Don¡¯t be so hasty," she mused, her voice smooth, measured. "Perhaps in angering me, you''ve unlocked a greater opportunity than either of us could have conceived alone." Ores¡¯s gaze lingered.

    "And if it isn¡¯t young Vanessa Emberlin." The shift in her tone was subtle¡ªalmost fond. "I had thought you long gone after our last¡­ encounter. What has it been, three years now?"

    Vess didn¡¯t respond right away. Gael caught the faint movement of her throat as she swallowed, a bead of sweat tracing down her temple. When she finally nodded, it was small and stiff, her gaze flickering to the floor before forcing itself back to Ores.

    "To think I¡¯d find you back here, up to mischief again," Ores continued, her tone firm but not unkind. "It would seem you¡¯ve learned little from your earlier lesson."

    "I¡ª" Vess started, then faltered. Her hand drifted to her left arm, fingers brushing absently over the old burn scars.

    Gael jumped in, his voice light but calculated. "She was just back at the hideout, working on some bauble while the rest of us did the heavy lifting." He shot Vess a quick glance, winking. "If anything, she tried to talk us out of it. If you¡¯re looking for someone to be pissed at, it should be me or Lukas. Preferably Lukas."

    Ores let out a quiet breath that might have been amusement. "How noble of you, standing up for your comrade in crime," she said. "But we both know Vanessa is far from innocent." There was no heat in her words, yet they landed with weight all the same. Vess¡¯s cheeks darkened, her gaze fixed to the floor, where anger and shame warred beneath the surface.

    And just like that, the heavy weight of Madam Ores¡¯s gaze shifted back to Gael. It wasn¡¯t just a look¡ªit was an appraisal, a quiet dismantling, as if she could strip him down to his very bones with a single glance.

    "Your name, boy?"

    Gael straightened, meeting her eyes without hesitation. "Gael. And it¡¯s a pleasure to finally meet the infamous Madam Ores."

    For the briefest moment, something flickered across Ores¡¯s face¡ªsomething quick, unreadable. Then, just as swiftly as it had come, it was gone, replaced by a small, genuine smile.

    "I may just have a proposition for you and your crew after all, Gael."

 Chapter 3: Sins of the Past

    <figure>

    </figure>

    Three years ago..

    In the shadowed corner of the urchin den sat a wisp of a girl, nearly lost among the debris scattered across the floor. Gael wouldn''t have noticed her at all if not for the way her gaze seemed to latch onto him the moment he stepped inside. Even among the street-hardened kids, her stare made her stand out. It was sharp, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore. Whenever their eyes met, even briefly, Gael could feel her attention like a cold hand on the back of his neck. Unsettling, to say the least.

    The others were no help when he asked about her. Hard stares and tight-lipped silence were all he got¡ªuntil he found Lander.

    Lander, wiry and battered, looked older than the rest¡ªmaybe sixteen or seventeen. He was the kind of kid who traded in whispers and secrets, the sort who''d sell you the time of day if it meant filling his belly. He was a walking ledger of rumors, and tonight, he wore the price of his trade: a swollen black eye and a split lip that made his grin look more like a grimace. Gael couldn''t help but wonder who''d managed to land a blow on someone like Lander. He sank down beside Gael, wincing as he settled onto the floor.

    "Name''s Lander," he said, jerking his chin toward the girl in the corner. "Heard you''ve been askin'' about Vess."

    So that was her name. Vess. It fit her¡ªsharp and short, like the way she looked at Gael, equal parts curiosity and contempt.

    "I am," Gael admitted.

    Lander''s puffy face lit up, though the expression seemed to cost him. "Lucky for you, I know a thing or two. Lived just past Lenter-lane before... well, before it happened." He kissed the back of his thumb, a superstitious gesture that didn''t match his usual swagger.

    "Before what happened?" Gael asked, leaning in.

    "You''re new here, ain''t ya?" Lander didn''t wait for an answer. "Figured. Nasty business with her family. Over in Rakan District. Slaughtered, they were. Little over a year ago." His voice dropped, and his eyes flicked to Gael''s meager sack of belongings. "Her name was Vanessa Emberlin. Before, anyway...now she only responds to Vess."

    Gael pulled the sack closer, instinct tightening his grip. "I''ve got nothing to trade."

    "Don''t need coin," Lander said, his gaze sharpening. "I trade in secrets. Like the one you''ve been sittin'' on since you stumbled in here, bloody and screamin'' about magic." He leaned closer, his breath sour. "What happened that night?"

    A flash of memory¡ªred rage, a body falling, the taste of fear¡ªsurged through Gael.

    "Or," Lander added quickly, "somethin'' else. Your choice."

    Gael swallowed the anger rising in his throat. "No. It''s a fair trade." His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

    "I killed that lord¡ªthe one who supposedly fell from his window."

    For a moment, a bitter flash of regret mixed with raw adrenaline surged through him. He knew the words would ignite whispers, earning him grudging respect on the streets long before the enforcers arrived. Yet even as his heartbeat steadied, he couldn''t ignore the tremor of uncertainty in Lander''s shocked gaze.

    "You?" Lander said finally, a smirk tugging at his busted lip. "A scrawny kid like you? What are you, eleven?"

    "Twelve," Gael snapped, straightening his shoulders. It didn''t help. He still felt tiny under the much larger boys scrutiny. "I caught him off guard." he finished weakly.

    Lander chuckled, then winced, touching his swollen face. "Kid, if you''re lyin'' to me¡ª"

    "I''m not." Gael''s voice was firmer now, though his hands trembled. "I''ve held up my end. Believe me or don''t. That''s your choice."

    Lander stared at him for a long moment, his light brown eyes searching for something Gael couldn''t name. Then he shrugged, the motion careful, as if his bruises protested every movement.

    "Alright, kid. Let''s talk about Vess." He paused, considering, then added, "That bought you two questions. I''ll answer ''em to the best of my abilities. Truthfully." When Gael gave him a skeptical look, Lander raised a hand, his tone suddenly solemn. "On the Father''s honor," he said, almost reverently.

    Two questions. Gael knew he shouldn''t waste them, but the same words kept bubbling to his lips until he couldn''t resist any longer.

    "Why does everyone act so weird when I ask about her? What''s she done to make them so nervous?"

    Lander leaned back, his expression shifting as if he were weighing how much to say. He closed his eyes, composing himself, and when he spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. "Depends on who you ask. Some say she stole fire magic from her parents and burned them alive¡ªalong with half the street." He shivered despite the warm, musty air of the den, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his busted lip.

    Gael frowned. "And if I asked you? Do you know the truth?"

    Lander''s eyes flicked open, sharp and calculating. "Well, that''s the hard bit. Even me, with all my vast knowledge¡ª" he gestured grandly, though the effect was ruined by his wince, "¡ªonly have rumors to go by."

    "That''s fine with me," Gael said quickly.

    Lander nodded, then closed his eyes again, as if summoning the story from some deep, dark place. "Some say her parents were killed by a powerful underground kingpin. The fire was just a cover-up." His voice caught for a moment, and he swallowed hard before continuing. "But I was there that day. The flames... they were unnatural. Burned for hours, even with water magi trying to stop ''em. Nothing worked. Not until it burned itself out."

    Gael''s breath hitched. "And she survived that?"

    Lander''s lips curled into a grim smile. "She did more than survive it. When the fire finally died, well into the morning, the only thing left standing was Vess. Curled up in a ball, passed out cold, surrounded by ashes. And not just ashes of the buildings¡ªashes of the people who''d tried to stop her. Or so the rumor goes."

    Gael''s stomach twisted. He could almost picture it: the charred remains of Lenter-lane, the eerie silence after the flames, and Vess, small and fragile-looking, lying untouched in the center of it all. It didn''t make sense. None of it did.

    "That''s one, kid," Lander said, pulling Gael back to the present. "You''ve got one more."

    Gael took a moment to think, turning over the possibilities in his mind. He wanted more than just rumors¡ªsomething concrete, something real. If Lander was as religious as his oath to the Father implied, maybe he''d honor it with more than half-truths. Gael leaned forward, his voice low but deliberate.

    "Does she ever talk about what happened? Or does she just sit there, staring daggers at everyone, tight-lipped?"

    Lander scratched the back of his neck, his expression shifting as if weighing how much to say. "I''ve never seen her talk, not to me, anyway. Tried chatting her up when she first got here. She ignored me for ten minutes straight before I gave up. Got the sense she''s not the... chatty type."

    Gael frowned, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "That''s all I get? Really?"

    Lander shrugged, a sly grin tugging at his split lip. "Hey, it''s not my fault if you ask shit questions, kid." He held up his hands in mock surrender, then sighed, relenting. "Fine. She''s only been here a month, so I don''t know everything. But nobody knows where she''s been since the fire last year. One day, she just showed up¡ªno explanation, no nothing. Just that red blanket of hers and that... blank stare."

    Gael glanced over at Vess, his stomach tightening as he caught her eye. Her gaze cut through him, sharp and unrelenting, as if she could see every secret he''d ever tried to hide. He looked away quickly, but the weight of her stare lingered, leaving him exposed. If he wanted real answers, he''d have to go to the source. But the thought of approaching her, of stepping into the path of that piercing gaze, made him shiver.

    "And with that," Lander said, breaking the tension, "our transaction is complete!" He performed a quick, intricate hand gesture with his fingers¡ªa flourish that seemed almost ceremonial¡ªbefore bowing slightly, his bruised face twisting into a grin. "Pleasure doin'' business with you, kid."

    And just like that, Lander was off, weaving through the den to start another "transaction" with the another urchin. Gael was left alone, his mind buzzing with questions and a gnawing sense of inevitability. There was only one path forward now, and it led straight to her.

    After what felt like an eternity of gathering courage, Gael finally stood and approached Vess. He moved slowly, cautiously, as if she were a startled cat that might bolt¡ªor worse, lash out¡ªat the slightest provocation. Her red blanket was draped over her shoulders like a cloak, and her piercing gaze was fixed on some distant point, though he could feel the weight of her attention shift to him as he drew closer.

    "Mind if I join you?" he asked softly, his voice quieter than he''d intended. For a moment, the only sound was the gentle rustle of the den. After a few seconds of silence, the girl nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

    "You know, they say it''s rude to stare," Gael remarked as he leaned back against the wall, a few feet away from Vess. She matched his words with a silence that dragged on for a painfully long moment before Gael cleared hit throat, the awkwardness becoming too much.

    "Is it true?" she asked, her voice a mere wisp, raspy with disuse.

    The softness of her reply startled him¡ªhe hadn''t heard a word from her the entire week he''d taken shelter here. How could she possibly know anything about him when they haven''t even met? He paused, rubbing his chin. "Everything they say about me is always true," he continued, forcing a small smile that flickered uncertainty. "Unless it''s negative¡ªthen it''s just hearsay."

    Next came a sound he cherished¡ªa simple snort, quickly followed by a few seconds of pure, unguarded laughter. Even Vess seemed taken aback after the fact; her pale cheeks flushed as she hastily closed her mouth and looked down at her feet.

    "So not only does she talk¡ªshe can laugh!" Gael teased.

    "I''d almost forgotten what that sounded like..." Her gaze drifted as she slowly raised her hand to her lips, testing her lips a few more times.

    "Is it true you have killed someone?" The question, stark against her youthful tone, had caught Gael off guard. In that split second, he noticed a fierce spark in her eyes¡ªa fire that wasn''t there a moment before¡ªdrawing him in.

    "Gael hesitated. He had already sold that truth to Lander, and he knew the rumors would spread like wildfire by week''s end. Still, facing this intense girl, he could manage only one word.

    ''Yes."

    He should explain¡ªshould justify what he did. But the truth was as simple as could be: he was a killer, one born of necessity but a killer nonetheless.

    Vess studied him for a long moment, her slender fingers idly twisting the tassels of her blanket as her sharp amber eyes seemed to strip him bare.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    "How did it feel when you did it?" she whispered gently, the question barely more than a breath.

    Gael fell into silence, his thoughts pulling him back to that brutal moment. In the heat of it, the act had been consumed by raw adrenaline¡ªthe kind of clarity that only comes when life feels like it''s hanging by a thread, and every fiber of instinct screams to survive. There had been no room for guilt, no space for reflection; just an unfeeling certainty that he''d done what needed to be done.

    After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low, deliberate, as if the words themselves were more difficult than the memory. "In that moment, it felt as if I was... untouchable. Like I was the one in control of everything." He stared down at his hands, fingers curling slightly as a faint tremor began again.

    "But the moment it was over, it just... flattened out. Like it never mattered. Like the weight of it hit, but I couldn''t feel it anymore. "He closed his eyes, the image of the man''s eyes flashing in his mind¡ªthe fear dancing across the man''s face, the moment he knew Gael had the upper hand.

    Vess sat in the heavy silence, her piercing gaze unwavering as she watched him, the world around them still and tense. Slowly, with an almost deliberate grace, she set the blanket aside¡ªits familiar weight no longer enough to keep her hidden, even from herself.

    Her fingers, pale and steady, reached into the worn leather pouch at her side, pulling out a half-burned letter. Its elaborate gold script¡ªonce pristine now marred by fire¡ªstill spoke the name at the bottom with unmistakable clarity: "Madam Ores."

    For a long moment, the crinkling parchment was the only sound either of them heard in the dimly lit room. Vess traced the edges of the letter, the blackened corners of history shifting uneasily between them. The weight of it, of all it represented¡ªher past, her purpose, her future¡ªpressed down on her chest, constricting the space between them.

    Gael''s gaze locked onto hers, and in the quiet of the moment, their unspoken understanding passed between them¡ªboth bound by past actions, pulled irresistibly toward an ending long set in motion by unknown forces.

    Vess¡¯s slender fingers, pale and trembling slightly, placed the letter on her lap. The flickering light from a nearby lantern caught the sharp angles of her face¡ªher high cheekbones, the faint burn mark that traced a jagged path from her left cheek down to her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her threadbare shirt. It was a reminder of the fire that had claimed her past, a scar that seemed to pulse with the weight of her memories. Her amber eyes burned with a fire Gael couldn¡¯t quite name, and though she was small, almost fragile-looking, there was a hardness to her, like a blade forged in a storm. Her red blanket, now pooled around her, seemed to mirror the intensity of her gaze, as if it too were alive with the weight of her resolve.

    Gael watched her, his breath shallow, the air thick with unspoken words. He could feel the gravity of the moment pressing down on him, the kind of tension that made the world seem smaller, sharper, as if everything else had faded away.

    Then, so softly it almost went unheard, Vess parted her lips and whispered, "I will end her."

    The words hung in the air, sharp and unyielding, like the edge of a knife. Gael¡¯s chest tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. He didn¡¯t know Ores, didn¡¯t know what she¡¯d done to deserve Vess¡¯s hatred. But he knew the look in Vess¡¯s eyes¡ªthe cold, unwavering clarity of someone who had nothing left to lose. It was the same look he¡¯d seen in his own reflection the night he¡¯d killed the lord.

    And though a part of him wanted to pull away, to distance himself from the violence he¡¯d tried to leave behind, another part of him felt drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you,¡± he said, his voice low but steady. The words surprised him, but once they were out, they felt inevitable, as if they¡¯d been waiting to be spoken all along.

    Vess¡¯s eyes flicked to his, and for the first time, he saw something other than anger or pain in her gaze¡ªsomething like hope, fragile and fleeting. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that familiar intensity. She nodded once, a silent acknowledgment, and the world around them seemed to snap back into place.

    In the dim light of the den, surrounded by the shadows of their pasts, the two of them sat in silence, the weight of their shared purpose settling over them like a storm waiting to break.

    <figure>

    </figure>

    Vess clenched her fist harder, the sharp pressure of her nails sinking into her palm. The urge to act¡ªto pull out the hidden blade she kept beneath her sleeve, but she forced herself to stop.

    The sight of the woman in front of her sent a raw, burning rage through her veins. Everything they''d worked for was on the verge of being undone, and yet, all she could think of was striking the frail woman across from her. But no matter how good it would feel, she knew she had to be patient.

    Vess'' thoughts flickered briefly to the way the woman had positioned them¡ªalone, without Lurras at her side. If she''d felt vulnerable, she wouldn''t have left them in a room alone with her. It was clear: there was confidence in her composure, in knowing she could handle two street kids who were more reckless than skilled.

    Vess''s mind raced, each thought tumbling over the next, sharp and frantic. What if this was their only shot¡ªher team''s one chance, without that lap dog of hers and his fancy Rune-Plate complicating everything. Who could say when they''d ever get another opportunity like this?

    The gnawing urgency clawed at her chest, pushing her to act, to do something, anything. But amidst the panic, the knot in her stomach tightened, making it harder to breathe. Beyond the pressure of the moment, there was a deeper, more suffocating frustration¡ªa fiery anger she hadn''t been ready for, burning hotter than even her desire for revenge. What enraged her the most, though, was seeing that woman again, Her too-pleased smile, the way she seemed so satisfied to see Vess again¡ªit felt like some twisted version of kinship.

    Her thoughts spiraled, and Vess''s vision began to blur at the edges. She felt the familiar rush of cold sweat bead on her forehead, her breath catching like shards of glass slipping past her throat. She could feel her heartbeat thundering, out of control, as the strangling panic closed in. And then, as if the world had sharpened into a razor''s edge, she caught herself.

    No, she wouldn''t let it happen again. Not like before. Not with Gael. He knew better than to trust her completely, he was playing her, just like all the others¡ªjust like all their marks. Her breath steadied with effort, but the weight of the moment still pressed into her chest.

    Vess forced her focus inward, retreating to the quiet sanctuary of her youth¡ªa vast, still pond reflecting a bright blue sky studded with immaculate white clouds. Each step in her mind sent gentle ripples across the water, yet the surface remained serene. When she opened her eyes again, both Gael and Ores watched her with expectant intensity.

    "Vess, are you okay?" Gael whispered, his voice low as he flicked his index finger inward twice¡ªa signal checking if the plan was still on.

    Vess slowly unclenched her fists, noticing a thin trail of blood trailing down her hand. Instinctively, she tucked her hands into her pockets and forced her expression into one of controlled neutrality¡ªa blend of fear and reverence, precisely as they had practiced.

    "Sorry, Madam¡ªI missed what you said. Could you repeat it?" she asked, her tone measured and even.

    Ores shifted her cane back to her side before reclining into her luxurious throne, a seat that dwarfed the frail old woman herself. "I asked how the young heir to the Emberlin trading dynasty ended up resorting to thievery on the very streets her ancestors helped build?"

    "I asked how the young heir to the Emberlin trading dynasty ended up resorting to thievery on the very streets her ancestors helped build," she inquired, her tone laced with controlled amusement.

    "If you recall, the Emberlin''s unfortunately suffered a terrible accident a few years back¡ªnasty business," Vess replied, her hands tensing in her pockets. "The following months were... challenging. I found myself in desperate need of something more than just a burned legacy."

    She was going off-script now and she could sense Gael''s intense gaze, the worry etched into his expression that always irked her despite its well-founded nature. With deliberate effort, she unclenched her fists and withdrew them from her pockets, offering a small, furtive gesture of reassurance with her index finger¡ªa silent confirmation that their plan remained intact.

    "Then," pausing dramatically, just as Gael had shown her "I found Gael¡ªand he showed me the joys of thieving." Vess flashed her best impression of Gael''s confident smirk and shot Ores what she hoped was a winning grin.

    Ores shifted her cane back to her side and reclined into her luxurious throne¡ªa seat that should have made the frail old woman seem diminutive, but instead somehow made her look impressive. "I see. Well, I do hope your thieving is better than your spell casting¡ªyou know exactly how poorly that went last time," Ores remarked dismissively, turning her attention back to Gael.

    Vess''s stomach tightened at the words.

    That BITCH!

    Under Ores''s unrelenting gaze, Gael''s eyes flickered with a trace of nervousness before his tension eased¡ªhe seemed to recognize that she wasn''t about to leap across the table and strangle Ores. He pressed on, his voice suddenly oily with ambition.

    "Your knight told us you needed our unique ''skillset''¡ªthat you''d be willing to employ us," Gael declared, his eyes glinting with greedy resolve. To Vess, he appeared every bit the audacious thief, desperate to prove himself.

    Ores sighed and let her hand glide over a scroll, unclasping it as it unfolded, an elaborate red script written across the golden parchment. "A skillset you put on full display today when you made a fool of Lord Kiron''s elite guards," she said. "A grievance, I hear, that forced three of his personal guards into early retirement." Her hand signed the bottom of the scroll before moving to the next repeating the process.

    "I don''t see the problem. They gave a good chase and brought home the gem with proud looks on their faces¡ª"¡ªOres cut him off sharply. "A clear fake, easily shattered under real scrutiny. But you knew they wouldn''t notice, didn''t you, Gael? In fact, if I was a betting woman id say you knew exactly who you were stealing from today" A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes as she scrutinized him.

    Gael paused, and for a heartbeat his carefully maintained mask slipped, sending an unexpected flutter through Vess''s heart. Quickly, he recovered, seamlessly continuing their rehearsed script. "I assume you''d prefer the very best on your side¡ªnot some half-wit common pickpocket. We do our research before we strike, and we only take from those who won''t be left destitute when we''re done."

    Ores scoffed, her tone dripping with derision. "How very noble of you. I suppose you redistribute the wealth amongst the common folk, then?"

    "If by ''common folk'' you mean our crew, then yes¡ªwe do quite a bit of that," Gael replied, punctuating his words with a small, almost theatrical bow.

    "Once you work for me, however, you''ll be using those skills for a higher purpose than simply amassing wealth, young man," Ores declared, her voice cutting through their banter like a sharpened blade.

    That remark was rich coming from someone whose opulent sitting room could have fed an entire crew for a year. It was evident she had never known want, yet she judged them for stealing to survive. Gael brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes¡ªa subtle gesture betraying his annoyance.

    "I''m not sure what calling could be higher than accumulating large sums of wealth," Gael said, his tone laced with a hint of defiance. "But.. I''m open to finding out."

    Vess watched as Ores let out an exasperated sigh. In one fluid motion, the woman rose from her desk and closed the distance between them faster than Vess had ever imagined possible¡ªso precise, she seemed to glide rather than walk.

    "What do you know of me, Gael? Surely you''ve heard the rumors since your arrival in Jesarin," Ores inquired, her voice a mix of challenge and quiet amusement.

    "Well, clearly you are stinking rich," Gael replied, sweeping a hand around to emphasize the opulence surrounding them. "But beyond that, all I know is that you get things done that others either can''t or won''t."

    A subtle smile crept across Ores¡¯s face as she leaned on her cane, momentarily reclaiming the familiar guise of the frail old woman Vess had once known. "Walk with me, young man," she said, extending her hand forward. "I''ll show you a bit of what I do, so you may one day find a calling more worthy than coin."

    Without so much as a glance in Vess¡¯s direction, Madam Ores guided Gael toward the far end of the chamber, her cane tapping lightly against the polished floor. She gestured at various paintings and pointed out particular koi she was especially proud of, her voice carrying the practiced ease of someone accustomed to admiration. Gael chuckled¡ªan honest, unguarded sound that grated against Vess¡¯s nerves more than she cared to admit.

    This was going to be much harder than she had imagined.

    <figure>

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    <figure>

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    Gael had to admit, Madam Ores was disarmingly charismatic. Her wit was razor-sharp, her stories effortlessly engaging, and every question he asked was met with an answer so clever and charming it felt impossible not to be drawn in. Vess had warned him about this¡ªthat Ores was a powerful magi and that her influence had a way of making you like her without a single spell being cast. At the time, he¡¯d assumed Vess was exaggerating.

    Now, he wasn¡¯t so sure.

    ¡°I have to ask¡ªwhat could a woman as rich as you possibly need a crew like ours for? I¡¯d imagine you could just buy any trinket you had your eye on.¡±

    Ores stopped before a large set of scrolls, mounted like an elaborate mural, each one depicting a breathtaking scene of the each of the four Realms. The artistry was exquisite¡ªevery brushstroke painstakingly detailed, as though the landscapes might shift if he looked too closely.

    ¡°You¡¯d be right,¡± she said, her voice carrying the quiet satisfaction of someone accustomed to getting what she wanted. ¡°I paid nearly four thousand Gin to have this commissioned and transported here. Coin is not the bottleneck of my enterprise, Gael. Now, why don¡¯t you take a guess at what is?¡±

    Her sharp, clever gaze settled on him, weighing his reaction. He recognized the test for what it was, but how was he supposed to answer when he barely understood what she even did to accumulate such wealth?

    Still, he wasn¡¯t about to back down.

    ¡°Well¡ªthe obvious answer would be things so valuable they aren¡¯t for sale,¡± he said, tilting his head toward her. ¡°Like that little gem we swiped earlier.¡±

    Gael expected a pleased nod, maybe even a smirk of approval at his answer. Instead, Ores merely tilted her head, watching him as though weighing something far greater than the words he¡¯d just spoken.

    "An obvious answer," she agreed, her tone smooth, "but not exactly the right one, and yet not fully wrong either."

    She turned back to the mural, running a delicate hand along the parchment, her fingers tracing the winding rivers and towering spires painted across the scrolls.

    "The things I desire aren¡¯t just rare, Gael. They¡¯re beyond the reach of coin. Tell me¡ªwhat is more valuable than wealth? What stands in the way of even the most powerful figures in the Realms?"

    Gael frowned, considering. The test continued, it seemed, but he wasn¡¯t sure if the answer she wanted was some abstract philosophy or a practical reality. He glanced at Vess, half-hoping for a clue, but she was watching Ores with thinly veiled disdain.

    "Knowledge," he guessed. "Or¡­ maybe influence? The kind of power that gets people to move without coin?"

    Now, a slow smile crept onto Ores¡¯s lips. "Better." She gestured for him to follow, stepping away from the scrolls. "Walk with me."

    Gael hesitated, his hand twitching at his side. For a heartbeat, he felt the weight of Vess¡¯s gaze on him, a silent reminder of the promise they¡¯d made. He remembered the way she¡¯d looked at him in the urchin den, the way her voice had cracked when she whispered, ¡°I will end her.¡± That promise had bound them together, and now, standing here in Ores¡¯s opulent chamber, it felt like a chain tightening around his chest.

    But there was something about Ores¡ªthe way she spoke, the way she carried herself¡ªthat made it impossible to look away. She was offering him something he had barely dared to dream of, and the temptation was almost too much to resist.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said finally, his voice quieter than he¡¯d intended. He stepped forward, falling in step beside Ores, but the weight of Vess¡¯s gaze followed him, a silent reminder of the promise they¡¯d made

    Ores led him past towering bookshelves and gilded lanterns that flickered with soft golden light, pausing before a display case filled with relics¡ªan array of impressive objects, each as intricate as the Catalyst.

    "These," she gestured at the collection, "are not just artifacts. They are keys. Some open doors to places long forgotten. Others to knowledge buried by time. But the most precious among them¡ª" she reached into her pocket pulling out the Catalyst, tapping it once as it began to hum."¡ªunlock people."

    Gael raised a brow. "People?" His eyes drawn to the glow of the Catalyst.

    Ores turned to him, her expression unreadable. "You misunderstand what power truly is, boy. It is not simply magic. It is not wealth. It is not even control. It is knowing where to place your faith. Knowing who to empower and when." closing her hand around the gem and sequestering it back into her elaborate robe.

    Gael had no response to that.

    "Coin can buy a great many things Gael," she continued, stepping closer. "And yet you will find it cannot buy trust. Nor can it buy loyalty. And it certainly cannot ensure that those with the strength to change this world will ever have the chance to do so." Ores shook her head "Coin is a tool, a useful one yes, but a tool nonetheless"

    Gael exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle in. He didn¡¯t fully understand what she was getting at, but he knew enough to recognize a shift in the conversation. She was no mere hoarder of magical artifacts¡ªshe was a woman with a purpose. And, more importantly, she seemed to think he had a role to play in it.

    "So tell me, Gael," Ores said, her voice quiet but firm. "What is your ambition? You and your crew, you scrape by, taking jobs, making enemies. But for what? Gold? Survival?" She shook her head. "You¡¯re better than that. I think you know you¡¯re better than that."

    Gael clenched his jaw, suddenly uncomfortable.

    "You want to know why I need a crew like yours?" Ores stepped past him, her cane tapping against the floor as she moved toward a set of doors leading to a moonlit balcony. "Because history doesn¡¯t favor the strongest or the richest, Gael. It favors those who dare to take the first step and use their gifts."

    The words struck something deep in Gael¡¯s chest, a flicker of something he wasn¡¯t ready to name. He shot a glance at Vess, but she was already looking away, her expression unreadable.

    Gael felt a strange weight settle in his chest, heavier than the pouch of stolen coin at his belt. He had always believed that power belonged to those who took it. But now, for the first time, he wondered if it also belonged to those who knew where to place it.

    As Ores stepped onto the balcony, her silhouette framed by the moonlight, Gael glanced back at Vess. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable, but her eyes burned with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. For a moment, he felt torn between the woman who had given him purpose and the one who promised him something greater.

    Then Ores¡¯s voice cut through the silence, sharp and deliberate. ¡°Tell me, Gael¡ªdo you believe in destiny?¡±

    The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Gael hesitated, his gaze flicking between Ores and Vess. Whatever answer he gave, he knew, would change everything.

 Chapter 4: A Job Worth Doing

    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¡ªwhat 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¡ªlike 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¡ªbut 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¡ªhe 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¡ªa 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¡ªthey 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¡ªa 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''¡ªthis 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¡ªtried.

    He muttered the same incantation Lurras had demonstrated that night. He could feel it¡ªthe shape of the spell, the pull of essence¡ªbut grasping it was like catching smoke in his fingers.

    Gael''s wind surged toward him.

    Lukas planted his feet, pushed his essence outward¡ªthe 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¡ª"

    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¡ªbut 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¡ªhe 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¡ªhis voice firm, no hesitation¡ª

    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¡ªLander and Soren, the last members of their crew¡ªstumbled 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¡ªwas 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¡ªa 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¡ªfirst 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¡ª"

    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.

 Chapter 5: Promises Kept

    Lukas barely heard the roar of the crowd. His focus was on the boy in front of him. Drayson was older, taller, and had the heavy-set build of someone who had fought for far too long. A veteran of this wretched place. His knuckles were wrapped, already stained with old blood, and his stance was practiced, weight shifting evenly between his feet.

    They called him "Fire-Fist" in the ring. Drayson¡¯s affinity made him a menace in close quarters. Lukas could already see the telltale wisps of steam curling from his fingers, his strikes getting faster, heat distorting the air around his fists.

    Lukas exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers. His own body ached¡ªbruises layered over old wounds, exhaustion buried under the need to survive. He could feel his essence stirring just beneath his skin, crackling like a barely contained current. He didn¡¯t have much left. They didn¡¯t let him rest between fights anymore. He was too valuable for that.

    Drayson smirked, rolling his shoulders. ¡°You don¡¯t look so good, kid.¡±

    Lukas didn¡¯t answer. He couldn¡¯t afford to. The moment he opened his mouth, he¡¯d waste breath he couldn¡¯t spare.

    The match started with a snap of fingers from above. Drayson moved first, lunging forward with brutal efficiency. Lukas sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the punch meant for his ribs. He countered, slipping inside Drayson¡¯s reach and striking fast¡ªelbow to the gut, knee to the thigh. The older boy barely flinched, bringing his arm down like a hammer. Lukas darted back, but not fast enough. A fist clipped his shoulder, pain shooting down his side. He gritted his teeth. No time to process, no time to feel.

    Drayson didn¡¯t let up. He pressed forward, forcing Lukas back toward the edge of the pit. Lukas had fought him before. He knew Drayson liked to corral his opponents, make them panic, force them into mistakes. The trick was not letting him.

    Lukas ducked under another swing, twisting to Drayson¡¯s side, and brought his essence to the surface. Lightning crackled along his fingertips. He didn¡¯t have enough for anything big, but he didn¡¯t need much. Just enough to make Drayson hesitate.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    A short arc of electricity snapped out, striking Drayson¡¯s side. He grunted, flinching away for the briefest moment. It was all Lukas needed. He surged forward, driving his fist into Drayson¡¯s ribs once, twice, then followed up with a sweeping kick that sent the older boy crashing to his knees.

    The crowd roared, but Lukas barely registered it. He had to end this now. His body was slowing down, limbs heavy, lungs burning. If Drayson got up again¡ª

    But he didn¡¯t. The match was over.

    A hand grabbed Lukas by the wrist and yanked it into the air. Victory. His heart pounded in his ears. The announcer¡¯s voice was a blur. His vision swam at the edges. Someone shoved a rag into his hand to wipe the blood off his knuckles, but his fingers barely worked.

    He let himself be led away, barely aware of the tunnel swallowing him into the depths of the ring.

    Ambrose was waiting. The old man leaned against the rusted bars of Lukas¡¯ cage, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

    ¡°You took too long,¡± Ambrose said.

    Lukas swallowed, pulse still racing. He didn¡¯t answer.

    Ambrose sighed, stepping forward. He placed a hand on Lukas¡¯ shoulder, squeezing¡ªjust hard enough to remind him of his place. ¡°Get cleaned up. You¡¯re up again in an hour.¡±

    Lukas clenched his jaw, staring at the ground. His body screamed for rest, but rest was a luxury he hadn¡¯t earned.

    Not yet.

    He turned toward the bucket of water in the corner of his cage and began washing the blood from his hands.

    Lukas¡¯s ¡°room¡± was nothing more than four harsh walls resting on a cold dirt floor. Ambrose was kind enough to provide him with a single straw rug that barely covered the entryway, as well as a hard cot with a solitary pillow adorning it. While this may seem awful to some, this was actually the norm for Lukas, who had lived in run-down shack after run-down shack for most of his life.

    All in all, it was better than he had back in Kenris¡ªthat¡¯s for sure.

    Here, at least, he didn¡¯t have his awful parents sending him to beg on the streets as they burned another dose of Emberweed. He could sleep through the night without having to block out the sounds of his newest brother or sister wailing from constant neglect.

    Martyr, he did miss his brothers and sisters, though. Each night, as he lay in his tiny stone prison, he would find himself thinking of little Lazrin¡¯s infectious smile or the sweet words of comfort Mari would always have for him after a long day of begging or stealing.

    He also often wondered if they met the same fate as he did. It had been over a year since his parents sold him to the Dragerian slaver¡ªwho knew how desperate they had gotten once they spent all that coin on more Emberweed? No, he told himself, he was the only person in his family ¡°blessed¡± with a dual affinity in generations.

    He still remembered the glint in his father¡¯s eyes as the magi had told him. The wicked smile that covered his face from ear to ear on their walk home still made Lukas sick whenever he recalled it. All in all, Lukas was grateful that he escaped that place and those people. For even here¡ªforced to fight, to grovel, to obey¡ªhe had a purpose, a goal. Becoming a champion meant that he was someone, anyone other than the pathetic child of Ember addicts.

    Here, he could fight, earn a place for himself in the Realms.