In the study crammed with shelves, artifacts, books, and weapons of every shape and size, laughter rang out. Loud and rolling—from the Black Rat; softer, more restrained—from Kael. It seemed they’d found an easy understanding between them: both spoke in hints, both understood the game, and both knew how to take a hit and answer in kind.

  The Black Rat took another long pull from their shared bottle of wine, wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and, squinting, said half in jest but with a noticeable measure of sincerity:

  “You’ve got the spirit of a troublemaker…” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “You’d fit right in among the Forsaken Brotherhood.”

  She tilted her head slightly, as if appraising him as a valuable recruit, then added in a more enticing tone:

  “Maybe you’ll stay for the Day of Winter celebrations? You could meet the other members of the Brotherhood while you’re at it. I’m sure they’d like you.”

  Kael merely smiled calmly, with a confidence far beyond his years. He shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, but my parents are expecting me. I was planning to be gone for no more than an hour… So I’m already running a bit late.”

  The Black Rat laughed outright.

  “A model son!” she snorted, leaning back into the chair again. “All right, then I won’t keep you. When the first batch of elixirs is ready, I’ll have Jean pass some along to you.”

  Kael stood.

  “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

  He took the spatial ring from the table, filled with his order. Bringing it closer, he was just about to slip it onto his finger when the Black Rat sharply raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you serious right now?” she asked with the look of someone watching another try to hang a sack of gold around their own neck. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of me, Kael.”

  Kael blinked, not understanding.

  “What do you mean?”

  The Black Rat lazily rose from her massive chair—and only then did Kael see her at full height. He barely came up to her chest. But when she straightened, her powerful figure seemed to stretch out, displaying not just muscle, but a rare combination of strength and flexibility—a beautiful, almost bestial physique.

  Lightly intoxicated and lulled by the relaxed atmosphere of their conversation, a lewd thought flickered through Kael’s mind for an instant:

  “I wonder… what she’s like in bed.”

  He immediately shook his head, forcing the wine-soaked thought away.

  And in the next moment, the Black Rat suddenly stepped closer. So fast and silent, as if she weighed nothing at all. She plucked the ring from his hand without asking permission and moved behind him.

  Kael reflexively turned.

  “What are you—”

  But he didn’t get to finish.

  She grabbed him by the hair at the base of his skull and tugged slightly back. Not hard, but unexpected—enough to steal his breath.

  “Hey! Careful!” he blurted, eyes flying wide in shock.

  The Black Rat laughed richly.

  “My, how delicate we are…”

  But then her hands became sure and precise. She parted the hair at the back of his head, selecting a single lock, and in a far more businesslike tone said:

  “Your ring is packed with illegal ingredients. Even if you’re not a criminal yourself, you’re better off playing it safe.”

  With those words, she leaned closer and deftly wrapped the chosen lock of hair around the ring, tying the knot with surprising precision. Her fingers were warm, but firm, like those of a seasoned craftsman.

  She stepped back a pace, inspected the result, and frowned.

  “Your hair is slippery…” she grumbled. “We’ll need something to seal it.”

  At that moment, her gaze fell on a thick gray wax candle standing at the edge of the table. Without the slightest hesitation, the Black Rat snapped off a small piece. She snapped her fingers, and black mana flared over her skin, shimmering like flame.

  The heat was so dense the air itself quivered.

  The piece of wax began to melt right in her palm—in a fast, even stream.

  Ignoring the heat, she leaned toward the back of his head and let a single drop of wax fall directly onto the knot in his hair. The wax set instantly.

  And then she gently, almost tenderly, blew on it—a light motion, barely brushing his skin.

  From that simple gesture, goosebumps ran down Kael’s spine.

  After that, the Black Rat huffed in satisfaction, ran her fingers through his hair, ruffling it slightly, and then smoothed it more carefully, hiding the ring beneath the strands as if it had never been there at all.

  She examined her “work,” clearly pleased with the result, and nodded with approval.

  “Done. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

  Kael slowly turned around, still feeling the lingering warmth of her breath on his neck, and said with a slightly crooked smile:

  “Thank you…”

  But at the same time, deep down, he noted:

  “A good trick. I’ll keep it in mind…”

  He exhaled softly, smirking inwardly at himself:

  “Plenty of knowledge, but not enough experience. Centuries in the Divine Library were useful to me—but certainly not in a social sense. Even with all my knowledge, I keep making mistakes. I still have much to learn.”

  Walking after the Black Rat toward the exit, he narrowed his eyes, mentally evaluating all his actions and missteps since the beginning of his second life:

  “Knowing how society functions is one thing. Functioning within it yourself is another entirely. I need to be more careful. And far more… circumspect.”

  At that moment, the Black Rat cast a glance at him over her shoulder—assessing, with clear, unspoken respect—unmistakable in her gaze.

  ? ? ?

  The Black Rat led Kael out of the study, and they descended the spiral staircase at a brisk pace. Her steps were soundless, like a cat’s. Kael followed behind, keeping his balance and quietly noting how she placed her foot and engaged her muscles.

  “Interesting technique… And she isn’t using mana. I need to remember this.”

  After reaching the second level, they crossed the workshop area and soon approached the narrow passage Kael had used to arrive here. They followed it to a dead end. A rough gray-black stone wall blocked the way, without a single crack or hint of an opening.

  But the Black Rat didn’t even slow.

  She merely waved her hand, and the wall before them shuddered. It drifted apart like mist, dissolving in layers, as though it were not stone at all, but a dense illusion.

  Behind the vanishing veil, a heavy black stone door appeared, with a circular pattern at its center—complex, interwoven, resembling a spiral of runes.

  The Black Rat took out a round metal pendant and carefully pressed it to the center of the pattern.

  A wave of mana pulsed through the door—dense, dull, like a heartbeat. Then came a light crack, as if ice were breaking, and the massive slab began to slowly slide apart.

  Beyond it lay an entirely different sight: a narrow but orderly underground corridor, lined with stone. The contrast between the “cave” and the ordinary corridor was striking.

  “Follow me,” the Black Rat said without turning, and lit a glowing crystal.

  Kael followed without questions, already hearing the doors slam shut behind him after only a few steps.

  ? ? ?

  The corridor was far more complex than he had initially expected. It was a genuine labyrinth. They turned left several times, then sharply right, then followed a long tunnel that ended in another four-way intersection. But the Black Rat chose directions so quickly that it seemed as if she were moving along a predetermined pattern.

  After several minutes of this, Kael suddenly noticed something strange.

  “From the route… we’re moving in a circle. But the surroundings are changing.”

  He ran his palm along the stone wall—the structure was different from five turns ago. Even the masonry pattern had changed. The lighting too.

  “Apparently… the labyrinth is riddled with illusion-based magic circles. They alter perception, throw off one’s sense of direction. Not a bad defense.”

  He narrowed his eyes, mentally assessing the scale of the work.

  “And not a single illusion. They’re layered—most likely applied by an entire group of experienced mages…”

  And at the very moment Kael had almost grown accustomed to the endless turns, the Black Rat made another sharp pivot—and the same door appeared before them once again. Heavy, black stone, with the same circular pattern, as if etched into its surface. Identical to the one they had entered through.

  For a moment, Kael even thought:

  “Did she get lost herself?”

  But the woman did not so much as raise an eyebrow. She simply took out the pendant, as if nothing unusual were happening, and lightly pressed it to the center of the pattern. A wave of mana passed through the slab, a familiar crack sounded—and the door silently slid aside.

  A surge of noise crashed through.

  Not the hollow, underground kind—this was the true noise of celebration. Bright voices, laughter, shouts, music, flashes of magical fireworks, the scent of spiced food and hot wine. The sounds burst in so suddenly, as if someone had opened a window into another world.

  One of Lasthold’s deserted streets lay before Kael. But even here, it could still be heard—the city was celebrating the Day of Winter.

  The Black Rat turned around, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. A lazy yet wary smile played across her face.

  “I hope you’ll keep this entrance a secret,” she said in a tone that made request and threat sound equally natural.

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  Then she tilted her head slightly and winked.

  “Otherwise, I’ll have to tell everyone who gave me the recipe for such wonderful mana elixirs.”

  Kael merely laughed, genuinely amused and replied:

  “You needn’t worry. Thank you again for the business.”

  The Black Rat nodded with satisfaction, and the door immediately began to close. But before the slab could fully come together, it began to “melt.” The surface rippled, the edges blurred, and a second later, an ordinary stone wall stood before Kael. Indistinguishable from any other in this alley.

  No runes. No passage. No trace.

  Kael drew in the frosty air a little deeper and pulled his hat down. A predatory grin slowly spread across his face.

  He turned toward the street flooded with lights and, heading for the main square, thought:

  “At last, I have everything for the summoning ritual. Once I break through… and forge a contract with the Sky Devourer—my power will multiply.”

  Snow crunched softly underfoot, fireworks tore apart the sunset sky, and Kael dissolved into the celebrating crowd—with such calm, as if he had not just made a criminal deal.

  ? ? ?

  And at that very moment, while Kael calmly stepped out onto the noisy street, panic reigned in the shadows throughout Lasthold.

  Figures in black cloaks darted across rooftops, elevated crossings, narrow alleys; it seemed all their forces had been mobilized. Some glided along walls with the aid of air spells; others watched intently from concealment, scanning for the slightest distortion—any trace at all.

  Surveillance was underway throughout the city, unseen. Even on the distant outer towers, observers stood watch.

  Two figures stood on one of the rooftops in the city center—the very same ones who had been watching Kael since the beginning of the day.

  The woman nervously cracked her knuckles, staring at the celebrating crowd below.

  “He’s been gone for two whole hours,” she ground out. “If we lose him, we’ll have to wait a long time for another suitable chance. Elder Zeiran will be furious.”

  The man stood with his hands braced on the parapet, grinding his teeth in irritation.

  “How did he even manage to evade our surveillance?” he growled. “A Golden Mage helped him, that’s certain. But I don’t know a single one who possesses that kind of magic.”

  The woman snorted, her eyes narrowing.

  “You’re forgetting the Forsaken Brotherhood that this brat runs with.”

  The man shot her a quick glance.

  “You think there’s someone like that among them?”

  “Obviously,” she scoffed. “Otherwise they’d have been hunted down and wiped out long ago.”

  The man looked away, his breathing growing heavier, anger seeping into his voice.

  “Filthy rats… who should’ve just died in the streets…”

  But at that moment, right in front of his nose, a tiny spark ignited in the air—minuscule, like a firefly, yet shining far too clearly to be an insect. It trembled—and a barely audible voice came through a communication spell. The voice was ragged, agitated, on the verge of hysteria.

  “Found him. He’s surfaced near the poor districts. On the street where the White Water tavern is!”

  The words had barely left the air when the two figures on the rooftop jerked, as if the ground beneath them had caught fire.

  The woman turned first, cold fury flashing in her eyes.

  The man merely snarled, “Finally.”

  ZUUV!

  Two bodies vanished in blinding white-blue flashes. Only the smell of electrified air remained, quickly carried away by the wind.

  They departed so swiftly that even the snow on the rooftop did not have time to settle.

  ? ? ?

  At that very moment, while others raced across rooftops in search of him, Kael moved calmly through the crowd. By then, the celebration had reached its peak. People were drinking hot wine and laughing; some were carrying children on their shoulders, and bursts of multicolored spells flared above the streets, painting the sky.

  Kael felt it too—light, warm, slightly relaxed. His cheeks and nose were faintly flushed from the strong wine he’d drunk with the Black Rat, and the frosty air made that warmth even more pleasant. The soft fur lining shielded him from the wind, the hat kept his head warm, and the whole world seemed brighter than usual.

  He glanced at the lights, at the glowing mana garlands, at the happy faces—and thought:

  “How beautiful… I should find my parents and give them something too. It shouldn’t be just me receiving gifts today.”

  The thought made him chuckle. He had already pictured what might please his mother and even started mentally sorting through options… when suddenly—

  Thump.

  A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.

  Abrupt and far too confident.

  For a heartbeat, he thought it was his father—but the next moment he heard a voice that instantly chilled his blood.

  “Oooh… This time—the real one.”

  Kael froze as if struck by lightning. All traces of wine evaporated at once. He tried to turn—but the hand on his shoulder pressed down harder, pinning him in place.

  “Stand still, kid.” The voice dropped lower, harsher.

  A wave of dread washed over Kael. He frowned, maintaining outward calm, and said quietly:

  “Who are you? And what do you want?”

  The surrounding crowd kept laughing and celebrating—no one noticed that in this small patch of the street the air had gone taut, like the moment before a lightning strike.

  Then came the words Kael feared most. Yet those same words ignited a fury so sharp and painful it felt as if everything inside him burst into flame:

  “Our hands are already close to your father at his workplace, and to your sister at the Academy. And someone with bad intentions can always drop by your little restaurant and hurt your mother. So do as you’re told and go where I tell you.”

  At those words, something inside Kael snapped. Amber eyes flared, as if reflecting fire, and a wave of hatred surged through his body. He was on the verge of breaking—of lunging at his enemy, damn the crowd, the celebration, the consequences.

  But in the same instant, his mind jolted—old wounds tore open, long scarred over but never forgotten. Images of a past life. A house burning like a torch. The deaths of his loved ones.

  Fear struck hard. Not for himself. For them.

  That fear robbed Kael’s rage of its footing, forcing his chest to tighten.

  The man behind him gave his shoulder a sharp shake, driving his fingers in deeper.

  “Do you understand me?” he growled right into his ear. “Answer.”

  The jolt snapped Kael back to reality. He blinked, throwing off the numbness. A short, clear thought flashed through his mind:

  “Panic will only make things worse. I need clarity.”

  He took a short breath, gathering all his composure, and gave a barely noticeable nod—carefully measured submission, enough not to arouse suspicion.

  “I understand.”

  In the next moment, a firm shove hit his back, driving him forward. Kael stepped ahead without resistance. The crowd was still laughing, shouting, clamoring, magical lights flashing overhead—and no one noticed that one of the revelers was no longer part of the celebration. He walked evenly, smoothly, without haste, but inside, the sensation of steel shackles tightening around his throat was already taking shape.

  As he moved forward, obeying the guiding pushes, Kael began to steady his thoughts. His mind, long accustomed to danger, quickly settled—stripping away the excess layer by layer, leaving only cold calculation.

  “Judging by the aura… a solid Silver Mage. I can’t handle him. Shouting or running isn’t an option. That would put my family at risk.”

  The fear gradually receded, and his thoughts grew clearer.

  “Judging by my reputation… I have value. There’s no point in killing me. Which means I can get out of this. This isn’t my first time in captivity.”

  To maintain control, he spoke more calmly than one would expect from someone in his situation:

  “What do you want? If it’s money, I’m not that rich. If it’s knowledge, I’m not that clever.”

  The voice behind him did not even waver.

  “You’ll find out soon enough. It’s not within my authority to discuss plans with you.”

  At those words, goosebumps ran over Kael. Their evenness, coldness, and confidence revealed far more than the speaker likely intended. He could feel it—this was not petty street trash, not night robbers, not desperate extortionists.

  “By their tone alone… these aren’t amateurs. And if they really have people on my family…”

  Something flared in his chest again. Hatred. Sharp as a blade’s edge. He barely restrained himself from turning around—his fingers twitched involuntarily, as if his body were already searching for an opening to strike.

  But rage did not overwhelm his reason. If anything, it sharpened it.

  “This had to be someone from the Three Families.”

  The realization dropped like a stone. And along with it came a fresh wave of questions.

  “But what’s the point? All this time they’d been keeping an eye on me—but not too closely—like any other promising talent. For internal competition, sure. But why move this aggressively now?”

  There was no answer. But Kael could feel it—something bad had happened. Or something worse was about to happen.

  And at that moment, he was led into a dark, narrow alley, where the noise of the festival was cut off as if by a blade. The light of the lanterns barely reached here, and the air grew heavier, colder, as though the city itself had turned a blind eye to what was happening.

  Several figures emerged from around the corners. All dressed alike—black robes, deep hoods concealing their faces, and smooth, expressionless masks. They moved in unison, confidently, without wasted motion. From their builds alone, it was immediately clear: the one stepping forward was a woman. And her voice—ringing, insolent—confirmed it at once.

  “Bastard,” she snarled, spitting each word. “You made us chase you for two full hours…”

  Kael looked at her, lifting an eyebrow as if her words made no sense to him.

  “My apologies. I simply wasn’t aware you existed.”

  His calm made her flinch—whether from irritation or from the lack of the reaction she had expected.

  “Joke while you can,” she hissed.

  At that moment, the man who had been standing behind Kael finally stepped forward toward the woman. He seemed older, slightly more experienced—his movements were economical and direct.

  “They’re waiting,” he said, casting a brief glance at his partner. “Let’s hurry.”

  The woman merely nodded and, lowering her head slightly, began whispering something. They were discussing something Kael was not meant to hear.

  And while they spoke, Kael glanced back—just for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly. Not to run. And certainly not out of any desire to start a fight.

  He needed to know if anyone else stood behind him.

  The woman caught the glance instantly.

  “You can run,” she drawled. “But remember—your family will pay for it. And I’m not joking.”

  Kael turned his head slightly to the right, meeting her eyes again. His voice carried an even, cold calm.

  “You have nothing to worry about. I’m curious myself who’s so eager to meet me.”

  In reality, the reason for his glance was entirely different.

  As soon as the woman turned away again, Kael’s heart began to beat faster. Not from fear—but from a clear understanding of just how risky his next move was. Yet there was no time to hesitate: if he did not hide everything unnecessary now, everything that could expose his secrets, what followed would become far more dangerous.

  He raised a hand to his head, to where a second spatial ring lay hidden beneath his hair. The movement was natural—a nervous scratch at the back of his head, perfectly fitting the situation. But behind the gesture lay delicate, precise work.

  In the fraction of a second while his fingers “scratched” his skin, Kael controlled his mana: the rings activated one after another, and their contents were transferred between them. A few rapid pulses of mana—and the mana elixirs, scrolls, expensive ingredients, everything that could draw lethal suspicion vanished from the familiar ring—hidden where no one would ever think to look.

  In a cache tied to a lock of his own hair.

  Everything happened so quickly and neatly that it looked like nothing more than the gesture of a frightened young man lost among strangers.

  “Thank you, Black Rat,” crossed Kael’s mind.

  And then he added mentally, this time far more firmly:

  “Whatever happens next… I’ll make it through. If they want money or information, I can bargain. But I can’t let anyone find my mana elixirs or ingredients. That would make things far worse.”

  He let out a barely perceptible breath—and only then allowed himself to look at the kidnappers again.

  By then, they had already unrolled a strange length of black fabric in front of them. As he watched the fabric move unnaturally, assumptions began to form in his mind.

  It was transport cloth. A magical cocoon for moving captives.

  The woman noticed his gaze and, turning sharply toward him, snapped:

  “Come here. And no tricks.”

  Kael stepped forward without resistance, fully aware that he had no choice.

  The moment he came close enough, two of the kidnappers stepped in, and the black fabric lunged at him—so fast and so perfectly coordinated that it seemed guided not by hands, but by streams of mana. It wrapped around him in a single motion—just as spiders encase their prey in a cocoon, leaving no chance to resist. Though it looked soft, the fabric proved astonishingly dense: layer after layer bound his body, his chest, his arms, and then his neck.

  First, the smells vanished. Then—the sounds. The world went muffled, as if a thick layer of cotton had been pressed against his ears. Light disappeared last: darkness closed in, dense and truly terrifying.

  But the worst was yet to come.

  Less than a minute passed before his body stopped responding—as if it no longer belonged to him. He couldn’t move a finger, couldn’t tense a single muscle. And then Kael realized that he could no longer feel the ambient flow of mana around him.

  It felt as though he had been torn out of the world.

  Only consciousness remained. Thoughts.

  And in that very moment, a thought swept through Kael’s mind—so cold and furious at the same time that his jaw locked tight:

  “Whoever you are… you made a mistake threatening my family. In this life, I’ll take revenge with my own hands. I no longer need Gods for that.”

  Outside, beyond the thickness of the fabric, a soft snap sounded—the final layer settled, and a brief pattern of runes flared across the surface of the cocoon, as if sealing it completely.

  The masked man calmly lifted the “cocoon,” as though it weighed no more than a feather, and said:

  “Mission complete. Returning home.”

  Short, sharp movements followed, then flashes of lightning. Three, four, five—each cutting through space. And all the figures in black robes vanished, dissolving into electric light.

  They carried the sealed Kael across rooftops and narrow passages, invisible to the celebrating crowd. People laughed, clapped each other on the shoulders, children squealed with delight at the fireworks—and several stories above their heads, a kidnapping was taking place that no one could detect.

  And the kidnappers’ path was directed toward the main residence of the Vengeful Thunder Family.

  To a place where a danger awaited Kael—one he did not yet suspect.