In one of Varidan’s dormitories, a refined young man lounged in a full-grain leather chair, teacup in hand, watching the wind dance across the grass beyond the open window.

  “Dominic, is this really the time for tea?”

  He glanced lazily at the stout, average-height man standing a few feet away. “Dexitrix?” he murmured. “You’re still here?”

  Dexitrix adjusted his collar, frowning. “You’re too relaxed. Didn’t you say that guy was a thorn in your side? Are you just going to let him grow stronger? What if he comes for your head?”

  Dominic sipped from his cup without looking away. “I made one mistake… nearly cost me my life. Only fools repeat the same error. I don’t care if he’s A-class now—or Varidan’s pet. He will pay for what he did.”

  He tilted the cup, letting the steam curl around his fingers. “I was just a normal man, near death, a few months ago. Look at me now. Patience is all I need.” A shallow smile flickered across his lips.

  Dexitrix exhaled sharply. “But this isn’t—” He gave up, settling onto a plain white sofa. “Do you even find it suspicious? Going from E-rank to A-rank like that. Do you think he has connections with—”

  “Stop.” Dominic’s eyes snapped to him. “You don’t know who’s listening. Think before you speak.”

  Dexitrix glanced around, unease tightening his beady eyes.

  “From what I’ve gathered, they aren’t affiliated with him,” Dominic continued, tone casual. “It’s possible he’s always been an A-rank. But that’s not what is important. We should be focusing on the flower.” He lifted the cup again, sipping slowly.

  “Not you too?” Dexitrix scoffed. “Everyone’s obsessed with that damn flower. Tickets to Targarth, Vohmir, Cemil, even Dumkun—prices have quintupled in weeks. All because of some ridiculous plant.”

  Dominic rolled his eyes, sipping.

  “We shouldn’t waste energy on what everyone else is chasing.” Dexitrix urged. “How do you expect to acquire it when every guild in the East is scrambling for it?” he pressed.

  “How do you expect to accomplish greatness with that narrow vision?” Dominic’s smile curved like a blade.

  “I’m no coward,” Dexitrix shot back, “but I’m not rushing to my death. A week in, and Eben’s disciples are already loose. Who knows when the Eight Gates or the Council of Hollows will join?” He waved a hand, dismissive. “I’d rather avoid them entirely.”

  Dominic chuckled, lifting the cup again. “People like you live long, boring lives.”

  Fury sharpened Dexitrix’s features. “You don’t have to insult me, Dominic—”

  “That’s not an insult. It’s fact. Whether you accept it changes nothing. Being cautious is fine, but cowering at every obstacle achieves nothing.” Dominic set the cup down, gaze unwavering.

  He leaned back. “The elixir’s importance is growing. Now is the best time to act. Do you know why?”

  Dexitrix hesitated. “Why?”

  “No one knows the cost of consuming it,” Dominic said, voice flat, but edged with amusement. “Rumors claim it can awaken an ordinary person… but they never mention the price.” He chuckled. “Is that of value to someone who has already awakened?”

  “Obviously not,” Dexitrix muttered.

  “And can anyone guarantee it even works on the Awakened?” Dominic pressed, eyes sharp.

  Silence answered him.

  “Guilds—Varidan included—haven’t moved because they’re awaiting confirmation. Let someone else test their theories first.”

  “If it only affects the unawakened… it’s useless,” Dexitrix murmured.

  “Exactly.” Dominic’s smile widened, slow and deliberate. “But if it can raise ranks…” He let the words hang, the implications cutting sharper than steel. “That’s why we need to be first.”

  He finished his tea, letting the silence press against Dexitrix. “Still no interest?”

  Dexitrix huffed. “You’re contradicting yourself.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re willing to stay passive against that playboy… while risking everything for something that might be worthless.”

  Dominic’s eyes glinted, unbothered. “Careful investigation is different from cowardice.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Dominic cocked his head back and laughed, straightening before leaning against the window frame. “An ambitious man knows when to advance and when to retreat. I gain nothing by chasing an enemy who doesn’t even know I exist. Why risk my advantage when patience will let events unfold in my favor?”

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  He let his gaze linger on the wind-whipped grasses below. “Yet, if I remain passive in pursuit of the flower, I’ll only regret it if its benefits exceed my imagination.”

  “But that doesn’t mean—”

  A sharp chime cut Dexitrix off. A crystal floated from Dominic’s pocket. He pressed his thumb against it.

  A gruff voice echoed: “Sir, the target left the academy a few minutes ago.”

  “Is he heading for the warehouse?” Dominic asked.

  “We aren’t certain. I’ll provide updates once his location is confirmed. Shall we engage if the opportunity arises?”

  “No.” Dominic’s tone was precise. “Observe him. Report everything. Tell the others to prepare for the other mission. We leave for Vohmir tonight.”

  “I’ll do as you command, sir.”

  Dominic released the crystal; its surface dimmed. He slid it back into his pocket, stretching his arms casually. “So, Dexitrix—will you join me, or will you savor Varidan’s tranquility a little longer?”

  “Give me some time. I’ll answer before noon,” Dexitrix replied, rising.

  “Fine. Come find me when you decide.”

  Dexitrix nodded and exited. Dominic reclined again, tilting his head from side to side.

  Adam… Adam… he murmured internally, a thin smile curling his lips. I suppose I have you to thank for this opportunity. It’s only fair I let them live a little longer… but soon… soon you’ll beg for death.

  He reached for the hardback resting on the stand, eyes glinting as the room settled into silence.

  Southern Region, Dratol…

  The sky bled gray and red as the sun sank toward the western enclaves. Men and women, old and young alike, moved along tarred streets, illuminated by fluorescent lights. Street vendors lined every corner, their calls mingling with laughter and music spilling from the inns and taverns. Life had returned to the southern region, buoyed by the rumors surrounding Edril’s elixir.

  On the outskirts, a young man with dirty brown hair and unremarkable features moved with light steps toward a decrepit farmhouse.

  This place hasn’t changed since the last time… Adam thought, scanning the wheat-strewn fields. The dried stalks fluttered in the gentle night breeze, carrying a pungent, fishy scent.

  A smile flickered unbidden across his lips. Maybe I’ll see her again…

  “Halt!”

  Adam froze. A lanky, masked man, daggers at his waist, blocked the path.

  “Token?” the masked man rasped.

  Adam drew a blood-red token from his pocket, raising it.

  “Why aren’t you in uniform?” the man growled. “High-ranking members are present today. They’d have your head if you approached like that.”

  “I’ll change in the shack,” Adam said. “The agents have been prowling… I didn’t want to risk it.” He slipped the token back into his pocket.

  The masked man produced a white coin. “Enter. The gathering begins soon.” He tossed it at Adam, disappearing into the darkness.

  Adam caught it, noting the word Scavenger embossed on both sides. What a convoluted password.

  The farmhouse loomed ahead, its rickety stairs creaking under his steps. He pressed the knob; the door groaned open. Darkness swallowed him as he stepped inside.

  Adam found himself in a dimly lit room, hundreds of men and women in red ceremonial robes sprawled across the floor, lost in rapture. The music was unnerving, the sermons enthralling.

  There’s never a normal day with these freaks.

  He scanned the dais. Bishops knelt in perfect synchrony, rings of fire arcing above their heads, trickling onto the fervent worshippers below. Eerie insects crawled across the bishops’ faces, moving in tandem with a hidden choir.

  A middle-aged man leaned toward him. “Brother, why aren’t you joining the songs of worship?”

  Adam’s lips curved into a practiced smile. “Forgive me, I lost myself for a moment. I am unworthy among those who have seen the light.”

  He prostrated on the cold floor, trembling slightly, then rose, arms stretched over his head, mimicking the worshippers. Around him, the cathedral teemed with a human sea: some prostrating, some kneeling, others crying or rolling in devotion.

  At the stroke of midnight, a deep gong reverberated through the hall. The sonorous choir fell silent, and the kneeling bishops straightened as the worshippers froze in their positions. Adam’s eyes followed the bishops as they rose, their movements rigid, almost ritualistic.

  An old man with a black cane shuffled forward, muttering incomprehensible words that echoed off the stone walls. One glance told Adam it was the same Bishop he had seen earlier.

  “On this night, the chosen of the people have gathered, beckoned by him who is greater than all,” the man’s voice trembled with solemnity. “I, Bishop Mikan, welcome you to the gathering of those who shall usher forth the coming of he who is to rule the forsaken.” His hand swept toward the congregation. “Priests! Bishops! I welcome you to the Temple of Jolran. May he hear our fervent prayers!”

  “Honor be to him who has chosen the forsaken! Glory be to him who has gifted the lacking! Victory to him who has saved the smitten!” The priests’ chants rose in unison, heads tilted skyward toward the half-moon, half-sun mural on the cathedral ceiling.

  “You may rise,” Mikan said, a ghastly smile stretching across his face. The hall fell silent once more.

  “Believers of Jolran,” he began, his eyes cold and sweeping the crowd, “the world we know is changing. None among you is ignorant of the accursed item—Edril’s Elixir. Its existence challenges the authority of Lord Jolran’s temple, and such blasphemy cannot be tolerated!”

  A black centipede crawled across his face as he spoke. Adam flinched instinctively.

  “As ordained servants of Lord Jolran, it is our duty to protect the temple’s sanctity. We must not allow such an item sully the great name of our Lord!”

  Mikan’s gaze hardened. “Tonight, on this sacred night, we rally against those who seek to exploit this vile flower. Lord Jolran has chosen each of you to bring justice to those who undermine the natural order.”

  He paused. Twenty portals snapped open across the hall, and men in red robes stepped through, each carrying a basket of white tokens numbered one to twenty.

  “You will not fight alone,” Mikan continued. “Groups will be assigned by Bishops and Archbishops. The temple has determined the likely locations of the item. You will embark on a crusade to eradicate this vile flower before the dregs of the earth—or the followers of that pretender—lay claim to it.”

  The basket-bearers distributed the tokens among the priests, the sound of shuffling robes and whispered anticipations filling the hall.

  “Before I forget,” Mikan said, voice rising, “a special presence joins us tonight. Welcome the newly ordained Cardinal, Cardinal Angelo!”

  A portal opened. From it emerged a hulking figure in a black cassock, scarlet pipping and sash wrapped around his waist. The crowd’s eyes widened at his sheer size, most drawn to the black hair tipped with silver. Despite his intimidating frame, a gentle smile softened his features.

  “We are not worthy to stand in the presence of him ordained by His Holiness!” the Priests and Bishops intoned, dropping to their knees. The Cardinal nodded slowly, eyes sweeping the room before vanishing back through the portal.

  Mikan and the Bishops rose first, followed by the Priests.

  “You will gather at the location indicated by your token. Group leaders will await your arrival,” Mikan instructed. Portals snapped open again as the Bishops filed out, one after another.

  Adam’s gaze lingered on the now-empty dais, his mouth slightly agape. Wasn’t that Hendrix?