Night covered the city in light. Skyscrapers rose through the haze, their windows glowing above the streets. On the top floor of one of them, in the reflection of a dark window, a man could be seen sitting in an armchair with a phone pressed to his ear.

  Find him. Execute him. And make it public. This is my city. Everyone – Savage or Higher One – must understand that this city belongs to me. Nothing happens here without my permission. Especially touching members of the organization.

  He paused only briefly.

  Antoine was a brother to me. And that so-called Heart Reaver gutted him like an animal. Contact Ulrich. Let him take Vann. I allow them to have some fun. Report every step to me. Do you hear me?

  He ended the call, stood up and walked to the window where he stopped. Nearly two meters tall, short hair, a precise haircut. A red silk robe hung from his shoulders, catching the glow of the city lights.

  Behind him a woman approached. Long black hair flowed down her back, her upper body bare, business trousers and high heels completing the strange mixture of elegance and devotion. She stopped only a few centimeters behind him without touching.

  May I lean against you?

  He allowed it. She wrapped her arms around him from behind.

  What happened? Can I help?

  Antoine is dead.

  She froze for a moment.

  What happened?

  His voice became flat, almost metallic.

  It doesn’t matter. The matter will be resolved soon. But I feel anger.

  Hearing that her lord felt something, she slowly raised her left hand and snapped her fingers twice. From the shadows a young man stepped forward – about twenty-five, well groomed, tall and slender, the kind of man people usually call a model. He dropped to his knees and crawled forward until he stopped between the window and the Lord, bowing his head and beginning to lick the Lord’s feet, slowly moving upward.

  The Lord closed his eyes slightly and lowered his head while the woman behind him ran her hands across the silk robe, stroking his body through the fabric. His breathing deepened. Arousal stirred beneath the red silk.

  Then the Lord lowered his gaze and placed his hands around the young man’s neck, pulling him upward. The young man began to rise, pressing closer to him. For a moment the Lord leaned over him and the young man, believing he was about to be kissed, closed his eyes.

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  Instead the Lord continued lifting him.

  His body rose into the air, held by the throat on outstretched arms. The young man began to choke while the Lord slowly bared his teeth.

  The world suddenly turned grey and time seemed to slow.

  Above the Lord appeared the shadow of a massive creature – a long serpent neck and a dragon-like head. The Lord’s arms and his essence moved as one. The young man’s skin began to blister as if burned, swollen blisters spreading across his body. The flesh near his head started to blacken and burn while the robe he wore began to smolder.

  The woman instinctively tried to pull him away.

  No.

  One word stopped her. Where her body still touched him the heat spread beneath her skin, and above her appeared the shadow of her own essence – the outline of a serpent. the burned skin began to peel away, peeling away as if a snake were shedding its skin.

  Morning came quietly. Drogo woke in his hotel room, washed his face, dressed, and paused for a moment in front of the mirror. For some reason he suddenly felt like humming a melody. It’s a beautiful day. A faint smile crossed his face. It had been a long time since he had felt this good. He’s somewhere here. I can feel it. And I want him more than anything. Drogo considered the timing for a moment. He’s probably at school now. That gives me time until lunch. I’ll take a walk. Maybe grab a coffee from that little place.

  Outside the morning city was already alive. Sunlight slid along the windows of cafés and shopfronts while people moved through the streets in slow restless currents. Drogo walked without hurry, enjoying the strange lightness in his body. Along the way he stopped to pet a stray dog, caught a little girl on a bicycle just before she crashed into a pole, and sent her on her way laughing. Passing a group of girls, he winked and exchanged a playful smile. For a brief moment the city even seemed friendly.

  Then he turned onto one of the main streets – wide, crowded, full of tourists and locals moving in a steady flow.

  High above that street, a heavyset man lay on the roof of a building overlooking the entire street. He wore a white undershirt and denim overalls, his massive body pressed against the concrete. The moment Drogo stepped into the open line of sight, the man received a short command through the earpiece. He began inhaling. Slowly at first, then deeper and deeper, pulling in more air as his chest expanded unnaturally. While still drawing breath he lifted a modern blowgun from the rooftop floor.

  The world turned grey.

  Above the heavy man appeared the shadow of his essence – a towering figure resembling a warrior of the Mayan tribes wearing an enormous ritual mask. The man exhaled. The needle shot forward and we follow it as it cuts across the street and slams into Drogo’s back, splintering bone and tearing tendons. Before he could even react a second shot followed, striking deeper. Drogo twisted in pain and collapsed forward.

  As consciousness began to fade, the world blurred around him. In front of him appeared a short man about fifty-five years old wearing a polo shirt and a small cap with a short brim. Above him loomed the shadow of another essence – a massive butcher wearing a hockey mask and a thick rubber apron, holding a knife in each hand. The man stepped forward toward Drogo, then calmly moved aside, allowing the body to fall. Having finished the movement, he disappeared into a narrow alley beside the street.

  Drogo collapsed just in front of it.

  People immediately rushed toward him, confused and alarmed. From the outside it looked as if someone had simply fainted in the middle of the street, but beneath Drogo’s body a pool of blood began spreading across the pavement within seconds. One of the bystanders pushed through the crowd and announced that he was a doctor. Kneeling beside the body, he turned Drogo over, trying to stop the bleeding – and the moment he saw the wounds, he froze in shock.