Kael walked quickly after the strange old man. The alleys shifted one after another, like a sequence of repeating patterns. The festive noise of the city—music, laughter, the elder’s voice—instead of fading, only grew louder, as if they were not moving away from the square, but toward the very heart of the celebration.

  But soon the sounds began to drift—blending, warping, changing direction. And with the sounds, the world itself began to blur. The outlines of the houses stretched, flickered, lost their sharpness. The snow underfoot became fluffy one moment, crunchy the next, as if space itself couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.

  Then, around them, a strange snow vortex rose. Ice crystals spun in spirals, twisting into a dense ring, cutting off all sight. The white wall slowly closed in, hiding the lights, the people, and all of Lasthold from Kael.

  Kael narrowed his eyes, peering at the magical currents shimmering around the old man.

  “A spirit from the Realm of Elements—but with pronounced illusory aspects… And the old man’s power is at least on par with Magister Duran’s. So who is he?”

  He didn’t have time to finish the thought. The old man suddenly grabbed him by the fur lining and jerked him forward. The grip was firm, predatory—completely at odds with the image of a good-natured vagrant.

  “Don’t lag behind, boy,” he rasped.

  In the next instant, Kael felt the ground vanish beneath his feet. As if the world beneath him had shifted—support vanished, the air dropped away and his body fell into emptiness for a brief moment.

  But fear had no time to take hold—space shuddered, and from somewhere deep below came a soft, muffled pulse.

  Thu-dum!

  The snowstorm instantly scattered, opening the view. The “snowflakes” began to turn into glowing points that streaked past Kael, then, as if obeying an unseen command, streamed back—toward the old man’s body. The “snow” dissolved midair, turning into the tiniest particles of mana, and the entire dense veil vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  Kael blinked, his gaze snapping to the old man—and froze.

  His appearance had clearly changed, but not in any human way. In his place stood… a creature. Or a man merged with his spirit.

  The old man’s eyes had turned completely blue, as if made of ice. His arms and legs were covered in short, dense fur like a winter pelt. Two horns rose from his forehead, slightly curved, reminiscent of a deer’s but far sharper. And from beneath the worn clothes, a short, fluffy tail peeked out—absurd, and yet dangerous.

  Kael parted his lips without thinking, stunned by the transformation.

  “That looks like a Northern Ice Hare…” he breathed out, not even realizing the words had slipped out.

  The old man raised an eyebrow—now covered in soft white fur—and smirked.

  “You’ve got a sharp eye, boy…”

  He said it lightly, with a hint of mockery, but there was praise deep in his voice.

  With those words, the remnants of the beastly form began to break apart into thin threads of mana. Blue-white particles flowed evenly back into the old man’s body, absorbing the fur, the horns, the glow of his eyes. A few heartbeats later—and before Kael stood the same vagrant once more in light clothing, as if utterly untouched by the cold.

  Only now, when the illusion had fully dissipated, did Kael finally look around.

  They were inside an underground chamber resembling a natural cavern, yet clearly refined by human hands. The walls were rough, but between the natural outcroppings one could see traces of cutting and reinforcement. Large crystals hung along the length of the walls, emitting a soft white light.

  But when Kael turned back, he noticed… the absence of anything at all. No tunnel, no staircase, no opening—he was standing before a rough stone wall, as if the path here had never existed.

  The old man, as if catching his train of thought, snorted and said with mocking satisfaction:

  “Don’t bother looking—you won’t find it.”

  He waved a hand and lazily set off, patting the flask at his belt.

  Kael narrowed his eyes, casting another glance at the wall. He said nothing aloud, but his thoughts raced, sharp and clear:

  “Judging by the distortion in the rock’s pattern—there’s a mechanism hidden there. And layered over it, a magic circle adding another level of illusion.”

  He nodded to himself, assessing the situation:

  “The Forsaken Brotherhood’s level of concealment is far higher than I expected. Even if I replay every step in my head… finding my way back here on my own would be almost impossible.”

  Recalling the path they had taken, Kael smiled to himself, thinking:

  “The old man didn’t yank me forward at the last moment for nothing. He cast a particularly powerful illusion on me, deliberately scrambling my perception…”

  As Kael pondered this, their footsteps echoed dully off the walls. The air was cool and slightly damp, carrying the scent of minerals and old earth. The passages twisted like loops of a labyrinth, until the cave suddenly opened up.

  And when Kael emerged from the next turn, he finally saw what lay deeper within.

  Before him stretched an enormous underground space—an entire lair.

  Kael instinctively parted his lips as he looked around—and the sight before him was far more expansive than he had expected.

  A vast spherical cavern stretched hundreds of meters upward and outward. At its very center, like a second sun for the underground world, floated a softly glowing crystal. Its radiance filled the space with an even white-blue light, creating an almost natural illusion of daylight—only beneath the earth, far from any sky.

  Below, at the “bottom of the sphere,” lay a wide platform lined with small houses, tents, and wooden scaffolds. The place resembled a modest trading quarter from one of Lasthold’s poorer districts—only far cleaner and more orderly.

  But once Kael lifted his gaze higher, it became clear that this lair was far more than just a hideout.

  The second “level,” arranged in tiers along the walls of the spherical cavern, was far more serious. There were forges, currently unlit; alchemical laboratories with shelves for ingredients; and long drafting tables strewn with parchments and massive rulers. Each sector clearly corresponded to a craft—as if someone had deliberately assigned each specialization so they wouldn’t interfere with one another.

  And finally, the third level—the highest, almost beneath the ceiling of the cavern. Suspended there was something resembling a round building of black wood. A residence. It was anchored to the stone vault so skillfully that it looked as though it had simply been stuck there. A long spiral staircase, carved directly into the cavern wall, led up to it.

  The sight was so vast and full of life that Kael felt excitement rise in his chest—a mix of surprise and admiration.

  “Wow…” Kael murmured, shifting his gaze from the central crystal to the many levels of the underground city. “I never thought something like this could be hidden beneath Lasthold.”

  Now that the first impressions had settled, he began to notice details. Despite the depth and secrecy of the den, life here was in full swing. From the tents and small houses on the lower level came laughter, arguments, clattering dishes, bursts of joyful shouts. It seemed that even here they were celebrating the Day of Winter—in their own way, without parades or formality, but with the same liveliness that reigned on the surface.

  The old man standing nearby watched Kael’s reaction with clear satisfaction. He tugged at the collar of his worn shirt, smiled, and said, “You’re heading up, boy. Don’t linger.”

  He gestured toward the spiral staircase leading up to the blackwood residence.

  Kael snorted, allowing himself a small joke:

  “You’re not going to walk me up?”

  “As if,” the old man scoffed, straightening his shoulders and heading downward. “I’d rather join the celebration and have a proper drink than play nanny to you.”

  His pace quickened, and an anticipatory smile appeared on his face. The old man swiftly descended the winding stairways, straight toward the noisy houses far below.

  Kael remained standing alone in the quiet passage, watching the old man disappear into one of the houses. A few seconds later, he set off as well, heading toward the main residence.

  With every step, a pleasant sense of anticipation grew inside him, as if he were approaching a threshold beyond which a new chapter of his path would begin.

  “Interesting…” he noted to himself, studying the architecture, the mana flows, the strength of the barriers. “They have at least one Gold-rank mage. And if that old man isn’t the leader… then at least two. An enormous force, comparable to the strongest organizations in Lasthold.”

  Walking along the second level, Kael moved unhurriedly, taking his time to examine everything closely.

  The space resembled a hybrid between a craftsmen’s quarter and a research center. On long tables lay bundles of rare herbs, shimmering chunks of mana ore, metal plates used for spellweaving, and beside them—neatly arranged tools for blacksmithing, alchemy, inscription, and herbalism. Many of them were not merely high-quality, but expensive, masterfully made, crafted with meticulous care. Racks held half-assembled mechanisms, artifact components, and in some places, even complete schematics for magical constructs.

  Kael let his gaze linger on a delicate crystal-cutting kit, then on a complex frame with concentric circles, typically used only by experienced artifact crafters.

  “Highly skilled craftsmen work here,” he noted with interest. “With this level of mastery, they could easily earn a living legally. Any guild in Lasthold would welcome them with open arms… so why choose the underground?”

  He thoughtfully ran his fingers along the edge of a table, feeling the faint vibration of mana passing through the materials.

  Perhaps they had reasons he did not yet know. Perhaps a past they could not escape. Or ideals incompatible with the city’s system. Or maybe the official guilds simply had no place for people of their nature.

  Lost in thought, Kael barely noticed when his steps carried him to the base of the spiral staircase. His gaze naturally lifted upward—toward where the black wooden “nest” hung beneath the cavern’s vault, like the roost of a predatory bird watching everything below.

  He began to climb. Step by step, smoothly, confidently, immersed in thought and a growing, taut anticipation. Each turn of the staircase drew him closer to the leader of the Forsaken Brotherhood—the Black Rat.

  “I wonder what he’s like. What kind of person is he?” Kael wondered.

  He climbed higher, stepped past the final turn of the stairs—and a door appeared before him. All he needed to do was reach out and knock… but he did not get the chance.

  From behind the door came a rough, unmistakably female voice:

  “Come in, Kael.”

  At that, he froze mid-step and quietly thought:

  “So the Black Rat is a woman… interesting.”

  He replied politely:

  “Then I’ll come in.”

  And pushed the door open.

  Light from dozens of crystals and lamps hit his eyes. When his vision adjusted, a spacious office opened before him… and yet it felt astonishingly cramped. Every inch was packed with shelves stacked with ingredients, jars holding creatures preserved in spirits, weapons, artifacts, sealed scrolls, old books, strange, incomprehensible mechanisms. Maps and diagrams hung on the walls; scattered tools lay here and there on the floor.

  And opposite him, behind a massive wooden desk, sat a woman impossible to overlook.

  She was enormous—two heads taller than the average man in Lasthold, with pronounced musculature that immediately caught the eye, as her torso was covered only by black bindings crossing her chest. Her skin was dark and smooth. Her face bore sharp, striking features. Short black hair was slightly tousled, and red eyes studied Kael attentively.

  She casually propped her legs up on the desk, as if she had no need to demonstrate either authority or caution.

  And yet—utterly at odds with her severe appearance—a charming, unmistakably feminine smile appeared on her lips. Warm, playful, daring. She looked at him as if they had known each other for years.

  “We should have met in person a long time ago,” she said with a warm, intimate charm. “Why did you make me wait so long?”

  There was no irritation in her voice. Only open, shameless teasing—as if she were deliberately testing his reaction, trying to see how he would react under that pressure.

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  But Kael didn’t falter. He merely smiled faintly and, picking up her playful tone, replied:

  “Seeing you, I found myself with only one question…”

  The woman raised an eyebrow, and a predatory spark flared in her eyes.

  “And what might that be?”

  Kael tilted his head, as though considering his wording, then said with a light compliment in his voice:

  “Who dared give you the nickname Black Rat? Rats are usually small and unremarkable. You, on the other hand… are a rather magnificent presence.”

  Her laughter rang out loud and clear, almost rough. In her smile, distinct fangs flashed—unnaturally long, yet surprisingly well-suited to her face. She swung her legs off the table, planting them on the floor with a heavy, confident thud, and, growing a little more serious, said:

  “It’s a nickname from my childhood. Back when I was small and skinny… and digging through trash heaps.”

  Kael frowned.

  “Digging through trash heaps? I don’t recall seeing children like that in Lasthold…”

  The Black Rat snorted. For the first time, a hardness crept into her voice—not a threat, but the echo of lived experience.

  “That’s hardly surprising. You’re too young to know about it. Besides, it’s forbidden to talk about, and many have already forgotten.”

  “Forgotten about what?” Kael asked cautiously.

  “About sixty years ago, Lasthold’s elites launched their last major expedition—they decided to explore the distant lands and the western mountains,” she began without unnecessary explanation. “In those days, many mages died. Over two years, nearly five hundred fell, mostly commoners.”

  “The loss affected the protection of workers and farmers from possessed beasts as well,” she continued. “There wasn’t enough protection for everyone. Hard times…”

  Her gaze turned cold, dangerous—like the edge of a blade.

  “Many orphans were left behind, and no one hurried to care about their well-being. So we did what we had to. Steal. Hide. Learn to survive in a world that had no place for us.”

  She leaned slightly forward, resting an elbow on the desk, and her red eyes gleamed.

  “That’s how I became the Black Rat. Like many here, I’m an orphan of that forgotten generation.”

  At that moment, as if worried she might be misunderstood, she quickly added:

  “Just don’t get the wrong idea—I’m not that old. I’m from the very last generation of orphans—only forty years old.”

  Naturally, Kael didn’t care about her age—his mind was elsewhere. The words about orphans left without protection, about children rummaging through trash, hit his chest with a sharp, unexpected pang. For a moment, a spark of anger flared within him.

  “To think that something like this happened in Lasthold… How many more such stories had unfolded over five hundred years? How many ugly truths have been carefully hidden?”

  Kael’s expression darkened slightly. He shook his head and said quietly:

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  But the Black Rat only laughed loudly—hoarsely, without a trace of sadness.

  “Oh, that’s all in the distant past,” she waved it aside. “Besides, the elites are still getting what’s coming to them.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow slightly.

  “How so?”

  She leaned back into the massive chair, interlacing her fingers over her chest, and her fangs flashed in a smile where predation strangely mingled with pride.

  “Thanks to their decisions and indifference, the Forsaken Brotherhood came into being,” she said calmly. “And, as you can imagine, we don’t deal in good deeds… with rare exceptions.”

  She tilted her head, watching his reaction.

  “Over the past thirty years, we’ve done a great deal of harm to the Three Families. A great deal. Though they prefer not to talk about it openly. Why tarnish their own reputation any further?”

  The woman’s red eyes glinted with mockery.

  “They call us criminals… yet all we really do is remind them of those they abandoned.”

  As she spoke, she casually gestured to a chair that had been prepared for Kael in advance.

  Stepping around the objects scattered on the floor, he slowly approached his seat.

  “You’re not the only one dissatisfied with the Three Families,” he said quietly, letting his fingers slide along the back of the chair. “Perhaps if their influence were weakened a little, you too could conduct more… clean business.”

  The Black Rat snorted at once, instantly catching the implication.

  “You mean that pathetic opposition of gray-haired old men from half a dozen guilds? They won’t get anywhere.”

  Kael sat down at his leisure, straightened, and looked at her with mild interest.

  “And why do you think that?”

  She leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and her voice sounded confident, almost lazy—as if she were stating an obvious fact.

  “Until a Jade Mage appears on their side, it’s all pointless. They can complain, huddle in little circles, sabotage a few things here and there… but without power comparable to the Three Families, it’s all just noise. And who said those old men would be any better?” Her lips curved once more into a mocking smile. “Everyone dreams of power, but not everyone understands what they’re doing when they get it.”

  Kael narrowed his eyes; a faint, predatory amusement flickered across his face.

  “Power is a tricky business. Although I don’t harbor much affection for the Three Families, still… Lasthold is doing just fine.”

  The Black Rat nodded, acknowledging his point.

  “I won’t argue with that.” She leaned forward, her gaze sharpening. “But remembering that, you can’t forget the other side. The sheer amount of filth, tragedy, and vile deeds they’ve hidden—and continue to hide. And most importantly, the situation is being made worse by what’s happening right now.”

  She squinted, as if testing his reaction.

  “Isn’t that what your allies fear? The Three Families are accumulating more and more knowledge, wealth, and power. They’re turning into… a monolith. And if this continues, Lasthold will lose its unity—the very thing that has preserved our city for five hundred years.”

  At that, the Black Rat let out a heavy breath, then relaxed into a more casual grin, as if she herself were tired of serious topics.

  “Alright,” she winked. “Courtesies aside—let’s get down to business. Ready to pay for the ingredients you need in coin? Or shall we trade for something else?”

  A gambler’s gleam lit her eyes, like that of a seasoned player sensing a good bet.

  Catching that note, Kael allowed himself a light mockery.

  “If you already know the answer… why ask?”

  “Because it’s more interesting!” she laughed.

  Before he could add anything, the woman reached under the table and pulled out a massive bottle of strong wine. Without the slightest embarrassment, she uncorked it with her teeth—the crack sounded less like cork and more like splintering wood.

  “Want some?” she offered, as though it weren’t wine at all, but a test.

  Kael nodded.

  “Sure.”

  The Black Rat lifted the bottle and took several deep gulps—as if her throat were immune to the burn. Then, exhaling with pleasure, she passed the bottle to Kael without looking.

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second—more at the sudden directness of the gesture than at the act of drinking itself. Then he took the bottle and drank as well. The hot, strong taste burned his throat and spread warmth through his chest, as if erasing the last remnants of formality between them.

  The bottle came down hard on the table between them, as if drawing an invisible line—beyond which the real negotiations began.

  The Black Rat leaned forward at once, planting her elbows on the wood, and said:

  “I’d like to know about the ritual you’re planning to perform. Its diagram, its principles, and the spirits it’s meant to summon.”

  The words were spoken softly and impartially, but it was clear her curiosity was devouring her.

  Kael merely smiled. The smile was polite, but firm. He shook his head.

  “I’ll have to refuse.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched, and she gave an almost satisfied snort—like a gambler who had made a risky move and known in advance the bet would fail.

  “Worth a try,” she admitted, not hiding the gambler’s gleam in her eyes.

  However, in the very next second her face grew more serious, and her gaze turned straight and sharp, like a blade.

  “Now let’s hear your offer. But keep this in mind—the ingredients you’re asking for are truly expensive.” She laced her fingers together, and the table creaked slightly under her weight. “We had to risk lives to obtain some of them.”

  She paused, as if letting the words sink in.

  “While retrieving the Hundred-Year Untouchable Flower, two of ours nearly died.”

  Her tone was calm, but beneath it lay a warning: the price had already been paid, and not only in gold. Which meant the deal had to go through—Kael would not be able to walk away from here, backing out of his order.

  Kael nodded, understanding, accepting her words without the slightest doubt.

  “I’m not foolish enough to insult you,” he said quietly.

  For a moment, he fell silent. His gaze stopped wandering and seemed to turn inward—toward thoughts he had not yet decided to voice aloud. A brief pause hung in the office, like the moment when a player sorts the cards in his hand, choosing which one to put on the table.

  And finally, he spoke:

  “Originally, I had one offer…” he began softly, still thoughtful, “but after hearing the story of your Brotherhood, another took its place. A more valuable one.”

  His tone, the movement of his shoulders, his gaze—everything about him suggested hesitation. Or the appearance of it. Bargaining. Testing the other party’s reaction. And the Black Rat clearly liked it: her eyes gleamed a little brighter, and her lips curved into a gambler’s grin.

  “My nose tells me there are strings attached, khe-he…” she drawled. “Care to share?”

  Kael did not answer directly. He exhaled slowly and said in an even, calm voice:

  “Let’s say I have a way to create something very valuable. Something that could help all of Lasthold. But if I reveal this method, it’ll immediately end up in one of the guilds—and therefore, in the hands of the Three Families.”

  He paused. Long. Deliberate.

  The light from the crystal on the table reflected off his amber eyes—and in that moment they flared with a cold, almost icy glint. The Black Rat caught her breath for a second. For an instant, it seemed to her that the person sitting before her was not a sixteen-year-old youth, but a cold, dangerous old man.

  Kael looked her straight in the eyes and asked with an unexpected, dangerous seriousness:

  “What would you do with this method… if it fell into your hands?”

  Silence fell over the room.

  The Black Rat, smiling just a moment ago, froze. Her lips twitched, her gaze grew more serious, and the muscles in her neck tensed slightly—for the first time in the conversation, she felt a strange pressure. Kael was obviously weaker than her, yet somehow he gave the impression of a far greater, almost mystical force.

  Kael’s aura changed. Something cold, impassive, and ancient seemed to look out through his eyes for a fleeting moment. At that barely perceptible shift, her insides answered with immediate alarm.

  She lowered her gaze. It was not a gesture of submission—rather, a reflexive, instinctive act of a predator encountering another predator whose strength it could not yet gauge.

  “Which answer would give me the greatest benefit?” flashed through her mind. “How can I best use the boy? Turn the situation to my advantage—”

  The thought did not have time to fully form.

  It shattered at once, as if her inner voice—the very thing that had always saved her life—had struck a blade. As though her intuition itself clenched her heart and hissed, “Don’t you dare.”

  “No. The best option was to answer honestly.”

  Having decided, she lifted her gaze—and there was no play left in them. Only a clear, direct assessment.

  “For a start,” she said calmly, without trying to soften her words, “I would use this method to strengthen the Forsaken Brotherhood.”

  She leaned forward slightly.

  “And then—to make life harder for the Three Families.”

  The answer was brutally honest. No mask. No theatrics.

  Kael nodded slightly, but as he asked his next question, his focus sharpened even further:

  “Would you help ordinary, law-abiding mages… if they were in need?”

  The Black Rat bared her fangs in a predatory smile. But it was not a mocking snarl—rather, the ironic smile of a gambler who knows her own game better than anyone.

  “If those mages aren’t tied to the Three Families…” she drawled, a lazy chuckle in her voice, “then helping them would still make life harder for the elite.”

  She raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly enjoying the logic of it.

  “So yes. I would. Not out of kindness… but out of principle.”

  Their gazes met again, and in that instant a strange, dangerous understanding passed between them.

  Hearing her words, Kael narrowed his eyes slightly. His thoughts snapped into a chain, as if his mind had shifted into a different mode.

  “While the opposition remains weak… it would be useful to weaken the Three Families a little.”

  He exhaled slowly.

  “If my mana elixir finds its way onto the underground markets… it will cause an uproar. Prices for ordinary elixirs will fall, and common mages will be able to afford more intensive training. Most importantly—the recipe won’t fall into the hands of the Three Families.”

  The thought flowed into the next, clear and cold:

  “This way, the lower strata of Lasthold can be reinforced…”

  He shifted his gaze back to the Black Rat.

  She waited. Not pressing, not rushing him—but watching so intently, as if trying to guess not only his decision, but the kind of man he would become decades from now.

  “The Forsaken Brotherhood can’t be called righteous… but they aren’t trying to destroy Lasthold either.”

  The image of the old man in the alley, the rough tents on the lower level, the story of the orphans—all of it surfaced in his memory.

  “More than anything, they’re wounded. They remember injustice. They have reason enough to seek revenge. But they also have something worth losing.”

  He lowered his gaze slightly, as if listening to his own thoughts.

  “When my allies become stronger… I’ll pass this recipe to Lasthold anyway. In the future, everyone will know it. One way or another.”

  Sorting through all the facts in his mind, Kael finally reached a decision. He nodded to himself and flicked his wrist.

  A small vial of vivid blue liquid appeared on the table beside the bottle of wine.

  “This is my gift to you,” Kael said calmly. “So you can personally see the product you’re about to sell.”

  The Black Rat raised an eyebrow. A spark of professional skepticism flared within her. She took the vial between two fingers—lightly but cautiously, the way a collector handles a rare insect—and, bringing it closer, she noted to herself:

  “Mana elixir? But… something about it is strange…”

  She uncorked it with a quick motion and inhaled the scent.

  And in the very next instant, her eyes widened.

  Not with mild surprise—with shock.

  She immediately dampened the tip of her finger and licked it, letting the elixir take effect. The moment the reaction began, she felt cold.

  “Don’t tell me you…” she whispered, her voice faltering for a moment.

  But Kael didn’t let her finish, confirming without ceremony:

  “I’ll give you the recipe for this elixir. Do we have a deal?”

  She snapped the vial shut, as if sealing away a priceless treasure. In her eyes was something few ever managed to witness in the head of the criminal underworld: disbelief.

  For the first time in the conversation, she looked genuinely shaken.

  “Is there… some kind of catch here?” she said slowly. “Side effects? Limitations? Hidden mechanisms at work?”

  Kael shook his head, his gaze was indecently calm.

  “No. No side effects. If I’m lying… you know where to find me. You can always come for revenge.”

  The line was delivered so casually, so offhand, that Black Rat forgot to close her mouth.

  And almost immediately after, a predatory grin spread across her face. Her lips curved as if she were already mentally mapping out underground supply chains and profits. A bright, impatient flame ignited in her eyes—an eagerness no mask could hide.

  “I never expected you to bring us gifts like this,” she drawled with thick, satisfied pleasure.

  Kael merely smiled faintly.

  “It’s the Day of Winter, after all.”

  She laughed, and he allowed himself to add, a bit more slyly:

  “But…” he began, as if in passing. “Considering my gift is far more valuable than yours in the long run, I’d appreciate it if you occasionally supplied me with finished elixirs. They’re not all that expensive to produce, by the way.”

  Black Rat froze.

  But only for a single second.

  The next moment, she deftly pulled out a spatial ring and slammed it onto the table with a sharp smack, pinning it to the surface.

  “Deal. Here are your ingredients.”

  The words rang out like a hammer striking an anvil. No hesitation. No attempt to haggle.

  She accepted the terms immediately—this was a deal she simply could not miss.