The knock on the door wasn’t just a sound. It was a physical blow that made the walls shudder. The protective wards Adrian had woven a week ago shrieked in a single, unbearably high-pitched note—and shattered. I felt it on my skin: like a steel cable snapping under immense tension, the invisible end whipping across my face, leaving behind a vibration that set my teeth on edge, as cold and sharp as iced water.

  The air in the room instantly grew heavy, thick, and rancid. It smelled of uninvited guests. Not of cologne or the city streets, but of something sterile and dead. The stench of a government facility where they washed blood off the basement tiles with bleach.

  I dropped my spoon. The clatter of silver against the porcelain saucer rang through the stagnant air like a gunshot, tearing the fabric of reality apart.

  Sitting across from me, Adrian didn’t even blink. Slowly, with terrifying precision, he placed his half-empty coffee cup back onto the table. Not a single drop spilled. A second ago, his face had been relaxed, shadowed by a faint morning smile, but now it turned to stone. His features sharpened, his cheekbones transforming into blades, and his eyes darkened, flooding with blackness until they became two abysses. This wasn’t my Adrian anymore, the man I’d been discussing our daily plans with. This was the Prince of Darkness, scenting an intruder on his territory.

  “Stay seated,” his voice was a quiet rustle, yet heavy with the hard clank of metal. “And keep quiet. No matter what happens, Anya. Not a sound. Not a single gesture. You are furniture. You are a shadow. Do you understand?”

  He stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his pristine white shirt with the lazy grace of an apex predator—one who didn’t fear a fight, but savored the anticipation of it. His movements were fluid and economical. But I saw how his knuckles turned white as he clenched his hands into fists. He knew exactly who was out there. And he didn’t like it one bit.

  Instinctively, I pressed my hand against my lower abdomen. A habit. A stupid, painful habit I hadn’t been able to break for three months. My hand sought what was no longer there.It was empty.There was no more warmth. None of that little ember I used to feel. No more quiet, cozy light promising a future. Just a cold, jagged scar deep inside my womb, and a phantom pain that woke up every time my nerves frayed. My baby had burned away in Eliza Ogneva’s flames. Only ash remained. And the Darkness that had come to take the place of life. It curled up inside me, freezing and starving, waiting.

  The door didn’t just open—it flew wide, slamming against the wall with a deafening crash, letting a harsh draft and the stench of scorching iron tear into the hall. Three men stepped inside.

  The first two glided in, wearing gray, unmarked uniforms. Hounds. I had read about them in the classified reports Adrian used to toss onto my desk, teaching me how to identify our enemies. They weren’t humans. And they weren’t exactly mages, either. They were bio-constructs, grown in the Citadel’s laboratories from the flesh of criminals and the magic of Order. Enforcers devoid of will, fear, mercy, and, it seemed, souls. Their faces were hidden behind matte helmet visors, but I knew there was nothing but emptiness beneath them. They moved in perfect synchronization, like a single lethal machine, instantly taking positions by the entrance, cutting off any route of escape. They held no weapons in their hands—their hands were the weapons. Their fingers, covered in intricate runic tattoos, glowed with a dull, sickly blue light. Paralyzers. One touch, and you became a statue.

  Behind them, moving at a leisurely pace with the arrogant dignity of a master of lives, came the third.

  He was tall. Thin as a rail, dried out like a mummy wrapped in expensive scarlet fabric. The mantle of a Red Inquisitor trailed behind him across the floor like a bloody wake, soaking up the dust. A heavy chain bearing the symbol of the All-Seeing Eye rested against his chest.

  Valerian.

  A name used to frighten children in the Lower City, and the Upper City too. “If you misbehave, Valerian will come and take your shadow.” “Don’t lie to your mother, or Valerian will hear.” I had thought they were just gruesome fairy tales, urban folklore.Now, the fairy tale stood in my hallway, slowly peeling off his gloves. Stripping the black leather from his excessively long, spider-like fingers.

  “Prince,” Valerian’s voice was as dry and rustling as dead leaves on a grave, devoid of any inflection. He didn’t bow. He didn’t even nod, which was a direct insult to a High Mage. “You didn’t answer the secure comms. We called three times. Protocol demands an immediate response. We decided... to check on you. And pay a courtesy visit.”

  He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room.

  “My analysts recommended a full assault a week ago, right after you burned the port to the ground. But I decided that the total destruction of a residential sector was too high a price. So, we simply sealed you in. A quarantine is more efficient than a war, isn’t it? Sooner or later, rats in a jar start eating each other.”

  “Has some tragedy occurred?” he continued, his tone slipping back into official coldness. “Have intruders seized the residence of the Head of the Shadow Clan?”

  “In my home, people wait for an invitation, Valerian,” Adrian said. He stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed over his broad chest. The darkness around him began to thicken, crawling out of the corners like liquid smoke. It was dense. Alive. “Or has the Council repealed the law on the sanctity of a High Mage’s dwelling? Article four, section twelve. A Mage’s home is his Fortress.”

  “The law is suspended when there is suspicion of harboring an Alpha-Level Threat.” The Inquisitor took a step forward, completely ignoring the gathering shadows. His gaze, as sharp and murky as sour milk, slid over the room. Over the paintings on the walls, the antique furniture, the plush rug... until it pinned me down.

  I stopped breathing. That look burned right through me. I felt like a butterfly pinned to the board of a sadistic entomologist. Valerian stared directly into my soul, searching for the cracks he could dig his claws into.

  “A threat?” Adrian stepped sideways, shielding me with his robust body. The shadow behind his back reared up, taking the shape of a massive cobra’s hood. The temperature in the room plummeted below freezing. “This is my guest. Anya Belskaya. My personal assistant.”

  “Belskaya?” Valerian scoffed. His smile was crooked, like a fresh scar slashing across his withered face. “Ah, yes. That blank, Voronov’s ex-wife, whom you picked up off the street? Defective goods. The trash of society. A rather strange choice for the Prince of Darkness, a man known for his elitism and utter disdain for the lower classes. I heard she had... an unpleasant incident. A miscarriage, wasn’t it? What a pity. The flawed vessel couldn’t even carry Voronov’s child to term. Nature always rejects mistakes.”

  I gripped the edge of the table so hard my fingernails turned white, threatening to snap. He knew. And he was striking at my deepest wound, tearing it wide open. On purpose. He wanted to break me, to make me cry and scream, to force an emotion out of me.

  Adrian didn’t flinch. Only his breath plumed in the freezing air.

  “My personal tragedies are of no concern to the Inquisition,” he replied, his tone laced with lethal ice. “But your intrusion is a direct violation of the Codex. Do you have a warrant? Or did you just come to gloat? Because if it’s the latter, I will throw you out that window. And the Council will justify my actions.”

  “We have a signal,” Valerian raised his hand. An object gleamed between his long fingers.

  A sphere. Perfectly smooth, black obsidian, the size of a large apple. The Sphere of Truth.

  My throat went instantly dry. I knew what it was. A Level Five artifact, strictly forbidden from being used outside the Citadel’s dungeons. An absolute lie detector. It was impossible to fool. Illusions, glamours, cloaking amulets, mental blocks—it burned through them all. It dragged a mage’s magical essence to the surface, turning their soul inside out, revealing everything: potential, core strength, hidden gifts, and curses. If it showed who I was now... If it revealed the Spark of Destruction... they would drag me to the Citadel. And they would dissect me there. Just to understand how a magical blank became an annihilator. They would tear me apart, organ by organ.

  “Our scanners detected a surge of anomalous energy in this district half an hour ago,” Valerian explained smoothly, tossing the heavy, dense sphere lightly in his palm. “Black noise. It strongly resembles the signature of... Eaters. Or something much worse. We are checking everyone. Even you, Prince. The safety of the City overrides any privileges.”

  He was lying. I could see it in his eyes. He came specifically for me. Someone had tipped them off. Maybe the servants. Maybe the Ognev spies.

  “Just a formality,” the Inquisitor smiled, taking another step closer. The Hounds moved in tandem, sweeping out to block the flanks. “Simply have your... guest... touch the Sphere. If she is truly a blank, as the documents state, the Sphere will remain dark. And we will leave. I will even offer my deepest apologies for the disturbance and compensate you for the moral damages.”

  “And if she isn’t?” Adrian asked softly, his voice barely a whisper against the silence.

  “If she isn’t,” Valerian’s eyes flared with the red fire of a fanatic, “then we will take her. As an unregistered mage. And as a suspect in necromancy. Rumor has it that after the death of her child, she... changed. That she is no longer human. I don’t believe the tales of her unleashing super-magic at the auction. I think it was a clever trick, and you are the director who orchestrated the entire performance, using your ward as nothing more than an agile puppet. But it is my duty to verify it!”

  “Anya,” Adrian’s voice was completely steady. No fear. No anger. Just a cold, unshakeable certainty. He didn’t look at Valerian. He looked only at me. “Come here.”

  I lifted my eyes to his. In his dark pupils, I saw a commanding plea.Trust me.And something else. Something much deeper, pulling me in.Show them. Show them what happens when you wake the Abyss.

  I stood up. My legs felt foreign, made of wood and filled with lead. Every step was a brutal effort, as if I were wading waist-deep against a freezing river current. My pulse hammered in my temples, making it hard to breathe, but I forced my shoulders back. I am Anya Belskaya. I survived the hell of the auction. I lost my son. I died and I was resurrected. I destroyed an ancient, powerful artifact. I had nothing left to lose anymore, except my own life, and that came incredibly cheap these days.

  The Absolute Veil, Adrian’s voice echoed in my memory from our midnight training sessions on the roof. You are not human, Anya. Not anymore. Your aura is inverted. An ordinary mage radiates light. You are a tear in the fabric of the universe. You radiate nothing. You only consume. Become the ice. Become the vacuum. Imagine you are the bottom of the deepest ocean, where the sun never reaches. Fill the emptiness inside you with absolute void.

  I approached the Inquisitor. Up close, he smelled even worse—like formaldehyde, old clotted blood, and raw fear. Yes, he reeked of fear, which he desperately tried to mask with arrogance. His skin was gray, like ancient parchment, covered in a web of fine, cracking wrinkles. Like the craquelure on a dying masterpiece.

  “Your hand,” he ordered, thrusting the Sphere forward.

  One of the Hounds jerked toward me, reaching for my wrist.

  “Don’t touch her!” Adrian snarled, a low growl tearing from his chest.

  The darkness behind his back lashed out like a whip—a movement so fast it was invisible to the naked eye—severing the Hound’s path. The massive enforcer stumbled backward, and I saw a deep, smoking slash seared into his composite armor. As if a laser had cut right through him. “If even one of your mutts lays a single finger on her, I will burn you all to the ground. And to hell with the Council.”

  Valerian didn’t even turn to check on his soldier. He kept his eyes locked on me, staring like a vulture hovering over dying prey.

  “Do it yourself,” he hissed, spit flying from his thin lips. “Touch it.”

  I held out my palm. My fingers didn’t tremble. I had shoved the fear so deep down that I couldn’t even feel it anymore. All that remained was the cold. An icy, cosmic chill residing where my life used to be.

  Hide me, I thought, reaching out to the darkness festering inside the scar on my womb. Eat anything that dares to touch us.

  I looked down at my hands. The white bandages Victor had wrapped around them after the surgery were still there. Yellow stains of healing ointment seeped through the fabric.

  “Take off the bandages,” Valerian said, nodding at my hands. “The Sphere requires direct contact with your skin.”

  I began to slowly unravel the gauze. Every rotation sent a spike of agony up my arm as the fabric peeled away from my raw wounds. I flinched, grinding my teeth together, but kept going. Adrian stepped forward, as if he wanted to help, but I shook my head, stopping him.

  The final strip of bloody cloth dropped to the floor.

  My palms were blackened and calloused, resembling charred wood. Hard, dead skin interlaced with a web of pulsing black veins—the physical scars of the Magic of Destruction slowly deteriorating me from the inside out.

  Valerian stared at my hands in absolute disgust.

  “And the amulet,” he added, pointing a bony finger at my neck. “Remove the protective artifact. Any magical shielding will distort the Sphere’s readings.”

  My fingers found the black stone set in silver resting against my chest. The amulet Adrian had given me. “Never take it off,” he had commanded.

  I looked back at Adrian. He gave a barely perceptible nod.

  Unclasping the chain, I let the amulet drop into my palm. It was heavy and stone-cold. I held it out to Adrian.

  He took the artifact and slipped it into his pocket. His face was an unreadable mask of granite.

  “Touch it,” Valerian repeated.

  My battered, blistered palm pressed against the glossy curve of the Sphere.

  For the first second, nothing happened. The artifact felt as slick and freezing as solid glass. A dead stone.And then it woke up.

  I felt a sharp, agonizing jerk. The Sphere latched onto my aura like a leech, digging in like a starving parasite. It wasn’t a passive scan—it was an all-out attack. Valerian had cranked it to maximum power. He didn’t just want to test me; he wanted to shatter any shields I might have and rip the bleeding truth out of my soul.

  The pulse tore into my arm, searing my veins, and ripped upward toward my heart and down into my womb. It hunted for magic. It hunted for life. It hunted for a single drop of warmth.

  But all it found was a graveyard.

  The pain was blinding. The world went black before my eyes. A desperate scream clawed at my throat as I tried to rip my hand away, but the Sphere was superglued to my flesh. It pulled and pulled, twisting my magical pathways, desperate to find even the faintest spark.

  WHO ARE YOU? WHERE IS YOUR ESSENCE? SURRENDER IT! The artifact’s voice vibrated violently inside my skull.

  Take it, I whispered back in my mind.

  And my Darkness answered the call.

  It didn’t raise a shield. It didn’t strike back with a fireball or a bolt of lightning. It simply... opened its maw.

  I envisioned a bottomless vortex tearing open inside me, deep in my lower abdomen. A black hole. Absolute Zero. The graveyard of light. A place where dying stars went to turn to dust.

  You want energy? Take it. I have plenty. I have an eternity of emptiness.

  The Sphere’s aggressive pulse slammed into that vortex... and vanished.Without a sound. Without any resistance. Without an echo.The mana disappeared into the void instantly, leaving absolutely no trace. I was a black hole that didn’t reflect light, but erased it from existence altogether.I felt the Sphere shudder violently in the Inquisitor’s grip. It had expected a fight. It had been forged to crush barriers. It had expected to hit rock bottom, to clash against a core, to shatter a shield. But there was no bottom to hit.

  My Darkness inhaled the pulse, swallowed it whole in a fraction of a second, and immediately demanded more.It reached back into the Sphere.Invisible tentacles of the vacuum slithered down the connection cord, invading the artifact itself. I could “see” it from the inside now. Intricate crystal lattices, massive mana reservoirs, ancient spellweaves crafted by the master mages of the last century. There was power inside it. Delicious. Pure. Aged.

  Delicious, something whispered deep within me. The voice wasn’t my own. It was ancient, hissing, and utterly satisfied.

  The Sphere began to burn hot in Valerian’s hand. Its internal defense circuits flared up, desperately trying to sever the parasitic link. I felt the spasm—the artifact tried to shock me, to incinerate the connection line.But it was too late.My Darkness felt no pain. It simply swallowed the defensive strike right along with the charge. The Sphere was freezing to death. Frost-like, matte patches spread rapidly across its glossy surface, dulling its shine until it looked like frosted glass in the dead of winter. It was dimming, bleeding out its light.

  Valerian jerked. His eyes widened in disbelief, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

  “What...” He tried to rip his hand away, but the Sphere had frozen solid to my palm as well. The vacuum had chained us both together. We had closed the circuit.

  I watched the color drain completely from the Inquisitor’s thin face. He felt it now. The void wasn’t just dragging power out of me anymore—having gained momentum, it began actively tearing the life force out of him, siphoning it through the dying artifact. I tasted his fear on my tongue—it was sharp and acidic. I felt his magical reserves flowing into me—muddy, filthy, yet incredibly sustaining.

  “Let go!” he shrieked, losing every ounce of his aristocratic polish. His voice cracked, pitching into a desperate falsetto.

  But I couldn’t. I had lost control. I was nothing more than an open floodgate, letting the Absolute Cold pour into the world. I saw the shadows in the corners of the room stretching toward me, licking their lips in deep hunger. The chandelier flickered, and the bulbs began to explode above us, one after another.

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  “Enough!” Adrian’s voice cracked like thunder, drowning out the sound of shattering glass.

  He closed the distance between us and struck my wrist with a brutal, precise chop of his hand, shattering my concentration and physically breaking the connection. The Absolute Veil faltered and collapsed into dust.

  The tether snapped.

  The Sphere hit the hardwood floor with a hollow, dead thud. It rolled a few feet and came to a stop right at Valerian’s expensive boots.Black. Matte. Dead. Looking like nothing more than a worthless lump of coal.But unbroken.

  I swayed on my feet. The world violently spun out of control and tilted at a forty-five-degree angle. Adrian’s strong arms caught me securely, refusing to let me fall. He crushed my body against his, his grip hard and anchoring, stopping my slide to the floor. He smelled of rich coffee and a freezing, lethal fury. His heart hammered rapidly against my ribs, a heavy, primal beat.

  “What did you do?” Valerian wheezed. He stared at the Sphere in superstitious terror, utterly terrified to touch it. “It’s... empty. There’s nothing left inside it. At all. Not even background noise. Not even static.”

  “I warned you,” I whispered, my lips numb and uncooperative, tasting the sharp copper of blood in my mouth. “I’m... a blank.”

  “Blanks have auras!” Valerian shrieked, spitting as he backed away. “Weak, gray, defective ones, but they have auras! It’s enough to register them. But this... This isn’t just Emptiness. This is Zero. Absolute Zero! Negative entropy! You killed the Sphere! You drained a Level Five artifact dry in ten seconds flat!”

  “The Sphere is completely intact,” Adrian pointed out with chilling calm. “Look for yourself. Not a single crack. Not a scratch. Its material integrity remains uncompromised.”

  Valerian cautiously reached down and picked up the artifact with two trembling fingers. It rested in his palm like a dead weight. The Inquisitor passed his hand over it, feverishly whispering an activation spell. He tried to force his own mana into the stone.Nothing. The magic simply vanished into the rock, like water sinking into parched sand.

  “She drained the charge,” he muttered, his face turning a sickening shade of blue. “She devoured the mana of Eternity... Who the hell are you? What are you?”

  “My guest is staying right here with me,” Adrian cut him off, stepping forward and shielding me with his broad shoulder. “She followed your orders. You demanded a test. You received one. The result?”

  “The result is a dangerous anomaly,” Valerian hissed, hastily shoving the dead stone into his long sleeve. “I’m placing her under arrest. Code Red.”

  He slashed his hand through the air in a sharp gesture. The Hounds behind him raised their paralyzers. The air practically hummed with lethal tension.

  “Take her.”

  But the enforcers didn’t even get the chance to take a single step.

  Adrian remained completely still. Yet the shadows in the room exploded into life. Black whips launched from the darkest corners, from beneath the antique furniture, from the folds of the heavy curtains. They struck faster than bullets.

  A sickening crunch. Agonized screams. The heavy thud of bodies slamming against the walls.

  In a fraction of a second, both Hounds were suspended in mid-air, pinned to the walls by their armor with massive, jagged spears of pure shadow. Their paralyzers lay in useless, sliced halves on the floor.

  Valerian jerked backward, ripping his wand from his robes, but the razor-sharp point of a black blade—Adrian’s Ethereal Sword—was already resting flush against his throat. Right beneath his Adam’s apple.

  “Are you really willing to risk it?” Adrian asked, his voice deadly quiet. His eyes burned with a vicious, violent violet fire, but his tone was pure ice. “In my home. Against me.”

  Valerian froze instantly. A bead of cold sweat trailed down his temple. He knew he was trapped. He had lost the high ground. Adrian was relentlessly faster. And infinitely stronger.“This is high treason, Chernov,” the Inquisitor rasped out, his eyes darting frantically toward the lethal blade at his throat. “Attacking the Inquisition. The Council will grind your entire Clan into dust.”“Only if the Council finds out,” Adrian mocked with a dark smirk. “But I imagine the Council will have far more pressing issues. Like explaining to the beloved public exactly what happened in Sector Seven.”The blade pressed a fraction of an inch deeper into the skin. A thin red line bloomed. The Inquisitor’s blood.“You really wouldn’t want the report on the Black Noise leaking onto the dark web, would you, Valerian? The truth about who really tore the Rift open three years ago?”The Inquisitor’s eyes blew wide open. The terror of the blade was instantly eclipsed by the sheer horror of the truth. It was a flawless checkmate.“That is... a top-level state secret. How did you...?”“I possess a complete copy. The video footage. The server logs. Everything. And if a single hair falls from my guest’s head, that copy will be broadcast across every major news feed. I will annihilate your career, your precious reputation, and your life, Valerian. You will rot in the exact same cell you came here to lock her in.”The Inquisitor slowly backed away. In his washed-out eyes, I saw pure hatred tainted with the raw, animalistic fear of a cornered beast. He knew Adrian wasn’t bluffing.“Get out,” Adrian ordered softly. “And take your mutts with you. If I ever catch you in my home again without a warrant signed by the Emperor himself, I will slaughter you. And I’ll write it off as a tragic accident while handling unstable artifacts.”Valerian gave a jerky nod to his Hounds. Coughing and stumbling, they dragged themselves toward the door, hastily gathering the shattered remains of their weapons.“We will meet again, Anya. And when we do, the Prince won’t be there to shield you.”He bolted through the door like a kicked dog. The heavy wooden panel slammed shut behind him.

  The moment the door firmly latched, I stopped fighting. The massive rush of adrenaline vanished from my system, leaving behind a soul-crushing exhaustion. The darkness rushed over me in a suffocating wave. I began to collapse, but Adrian scooped me up into his arms, carrying me effortlessly, like I weighed nothing at all.

  He didn’t carry me toward the bedroom, but to his private study. He laid me gently onto the vast leather sofa.

  “Blood,” he stated abruptly.

  I swiped a shaky hand across my face. My nose. The blood was gushing like a river, hot and metallic, dripping rapidly onto the collar of my gray dress.Adrian leaned in close, pulling the black amulet from his pocket, and decisively fastened the silver chain around my neck. The freezing stone instantly burned my skin.“Don’t ever take it off again. Never,” he commanded hoarsely, grabbing a handkerchief and wiping the blood from my face. His touches were sharp, fueled by an underlying anger.

  “You almost killed yourself, you fool. You drank that Sphere completely dry. Do you have any idea how much raw power was stored in there? You could have been ripped apart down to your very atoms!”

  “I was starving,” I admitted softly. “Not me... it was.”

  Adrian froze. He stared down at my stomach. Then, he pressed his large, warm hand firmly against my forehead, running a deep magical scan.

  “It’s not you who’s hungry,” he murmured, and for the first time, a dark undercurrent of genuine fear laced his voice. “It’s the Darkness.”

  “The Darkness?”

  “It has completely filled the void, Anya. Where the baby was... there is now an endless abyss. And it’s growing rapidly. It desperately needs energy to expand. Today, you gave it a taste of pure, unadulterated mana. And it absolutely loved it. It has acquired a taste for the blood of magic.”

  Adrian straightened up, staring down at me with terrifying gravity. There wasn’t an ounce of pity left in his dark eyes, only the cold, hard calculation of a brilliant commander analyzing a new, highly volatile weapon of mass destruction.

  “Now, it’s going to constantly demand more. You have to learn how to control this starvation. Otherwise, it will devour you from the inside out. Exactly like a cancer. It will start feeding on your internal organs, your life force, and eventually, your sanity.”

  “How?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “How do I stop it?”

  “You can’t stop it. But you can feed it. Controlled feeding.”

  “Get up.” He reached out, offering his hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Down to the basement. To the Hall of Shadows. I’m going to teach you how to feed the Abyss without destroying the entire world around you. And most importantly—without destroying me. Because the next time it gets ravenous, it might just decide that I am the most delicious dessert in the room.”

  I swallowed hard.“Could I actually eat you?”“You could drain my very essence. If you don’t learn how to establish an absolute barrier between your Hunger and the people you care about. Now, get up.”

  I slipped my hand into his. My fingers were freezing, like blocks of ice. His grip was scorching hot.

  “We’re starting right now.”

  ***

  The basement of the Obsidian Palace wasn’t just a simple cellar. It was a reinforced bunker. Or an ancient, forgotten sanctuary.

  We descended a steep, winding staircase carved straight into the living rock the mansion was built upon. The rough stone steps were damp, reeking of wet earth and centuries of history. The air bit into my lungs, growing colder with every descending level. There was no actual lighting—only the eerie, dim glow of magical orbs hovering lazily near the ceiling, illuminating massive, crude stone walls entirely covered in intricate defensive runes.

  “This place is totally shielded from existence,” Adrian’s voice echoed deeply through the cavernous arches. “Even the Sphere of Truth would go blind down here. This is where we don’t have to hold back.”

  We stepped out into a massive, circular arena. The floor was completely covered in thick sand. In the dead center stood a solitary training dummy—a crude, ugly doll stitched from burlap and stuffed with dry straw. But I could see the truth—it was violently radiating magic. A deeply buried accumulator was pulsing inside its chest.

  “That’s the Sacrifice,” Adrian explained, striding confidently toward the dummy. “It holds a Class-C crystal accumulator inside. A moderate charge. About the equivalent of a standard battle mage.”

  He backed away, walking over to the far wall and crossing his strong arms over his chest.

  “Your task isn’t just to strike it. Your goal is to feed on it. I want you to imagine that you’re a vampire. But instead of blood, you are drinking pure power.”

  I stood about thirty feet away from the dummy. My legs were still shaking violently from the horrific encounter with the Inquisitor. The world spun, and a massive knot of freezing ice churned in my stomach. It was aching again. Begging for another hit. The massive surge of energy inside the Sphere had merely been a light appetizer.

  “Do it, Anya,” Adrian pushed me, his voice sharp and demanding. “Let it off the leash. Open the floodgates. But strictly focus the pull on the dummy. Concentrate the hunger into a single beam. Just pretend... that it’s Eliza.”

  The name of my sworn enemy acted as an explosive trigger.

  The agonizing memory slammed into my mind: the slave market, the roaring fire, Eliza’s vicious, twisted smirk. Pure, unadulterated rage flooded my veins in a scalding wave, instantly clashing with the brutal cold of the Darkness.

  You want to eat? I asked the void tearing me apart. There’s your meal.

  I thrust my hand forward.

  This time, I didn’t hesitate. I mentally visualized a massive, invisible trunk, a slithering tentacle, a vacuum hose—anything capable of aggressive suction—bursting free from my palm.

  EAT...

  The Darkness launched itself forward with terrifying speed.

  It was an intensely physical sensation. A hurricane-force gale exploded from my hand. The sand beneath my feet whipped up into a raging vortex.

  But my aim was completely off.

  The torrent of pure hunger didn’t shoot out in the focused, narrow beam I had intended. Instead, it unleashed in a massive, uncontrolled tidal wave, flooding half the entire room.

  The training dummy flared brilliantly for a fraction of a second before instantly crumbling into ash. The thick burlap disintegrated in the blink of an eye. The crystal buried inside it shattered with a sickening crunch, and every drop of its stored energy was violently sucked right into my core.

  But the dark wave didn’t stop there. It mercilessly pushed forward.

  It smashed violently into the stone wall. It crashed into the magical orbs hovering near the ceiling. They blinked out instantly, sucked totally dry. The entire hall was plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.

  And then, it slammed right into Adrian.

  I heard the sharp, agonizing gasp rip from his throat. I heard the brutally heavy thud as he dropped to his knees.

  “Anya, stop it!” his voice was a ragged, wet croak.

  Frantically, I tried to slam the floodgate shut. But the torrent refused to stop. I could feel Adrian now. He was a colossal, violently pulsing well of the most exquisite, dark, intoxicating energy in the world. He was so close. He was dangerously alluring. My Darkness shrieked in pure ecstasy, desperately clawing outward to reach him, eager to sink its fangs in and tear off a massive chunk of his power.

  NO! I screamed wildly into the void inside my own mind. Not him! STOP!

  I violently grabbed my right forearm with my left hand, desperately trying to physically strangle the twisted magical channel. Agony exploded in my wrist, nearly dropping me into unconsciousness. I collapsed onto my knees, burying my hands deep into the frozen sand.

  Close! Shut it down, you monster!

  I visualized an incredibly massive steel vault door. The heavy hatch of a military submarine. I violently slammed it shut with a deafening crash, sealing the iron locks tight.

  The rushing torrent snapped out of existence.

  Silence fell over us like a shroud. There was nothing but the harsh, wet scraping of my own frantic breathing and the soft shifting of sand beneath my knees.

  The darkness was smothering and absolute. Every magical light source was utterly dead.

  “Adrian?” I called out, my voice trembling with raw, unfiltered terror. “Adrian... are you alive?”

  A tiny spark flared to life in the suffocating blackness. A small, violently shaking tongue of flame dancing on the tip of his finger.

  Adrian was slumped against the rough stone wall. His normally bronze skin was horribly pale, the color of a fresh corpse. The strong hand holding the flame was trembling uncontrollably.

  “I’m alive,” he exhaled heavily. “But you... you just bit off about a month’s worth of my deepest magical reserves.”

  I slammed my hands over my face, hiding a sob.“I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to... I just... I can’t control it...”

  Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed himself up. He crossed the distance between us and dropped down onto the sand right beside me. The faint light of the little flame illuminated the harsh lines of his face. He wasn’t enraged. He was staring at me with a strange, almost scientific awe.

  “You aren’t just an Annihilator, Anya,” he whispered softly into the dark. “You are an X-Rank Anomaly. A living Black Hole. You don’t just destroy physical matter. You actively devour the very essence of magic itself. If you ever learn how to truly focus this... you could easily kill a god.”

  He slowly reached out, his long fingers gently cupping my tear-stained cheek.

  “But right now, you are a lethal hazard to everyone around you. And most importantly, to yourself and me. Starting tomorrow, our entire routine changes. No more walks in the gardens. No days off whatsoever. We are going to lock ourselves down here in this pit until you figure out how to drink from a damn teacup without swallowing the table, the tablecloth, and the waiter along with it.”

  “I agree,” I whispered back, my voice breaking.

  “And there’s something else,” he stared intensely into my eyes, a dark fire waking in his own. “When you were tearing the power out of me... I felt an answering call.”

  “What kind of call?”

  “The Darkness inside of me... it wasn’t terrified. It desperately reached out to yours. It wanted to be consumed. That... is beautifully twisted. It felt like a pure narcotic. A sharp agony and intense pleasure all at once.”

  We stared deeply into each other’s eyes under the trembling light of the single flickering flame. Down here in this freezing bunker, surrounded by dead equipment, the air smelled heavily of ozone, crushed sand, and something much darker. The electric static that furiously built up between two violently charged poles right before a massive lightning strike.

  “We are walking on a very sharp razor’s edge, Anya,” he stated firmly. “But it’s the only path forward.”

  He casually snuffed out the flame.

  And in the absolute, pitch-black darkness, his lips found mine. It wasn’t a sweet kiss driven by tender love. It was a sealing pact. A bloody, brutal, shared contract signed directly with the devil.

  “Now, we burn down here together.”

  ***

  The true pain hit me later.

  We were climbing out of the basement just as the sky outside the mansion began to lighten. A gray, miserable dawn was struggling to pierce through the heavy rain clouds. Adrian was firmly supporting my weight—my legs were violently trembling, and the entire world was blurring at the edges.

  “We’re almost there,” he encouraged softly. “Just a little bit more.”

  But I didn’t make it.

  Halfway up the grand staircase, something deep inside me violently snapped.

  It wasn’t a physical break. It was magical. I felt one of the core energy channels—dangerously overloaded by the vast power of the Sphere and Adrian’s massive reserves—finally give way. It fractured. And then it completely exploded outward from the inside.

  The blinding agony hit me like a speeding train. I screamed, my knees buckling as I collapsed.

  Adrian caught me mid-fall, preventing me from smashing my skull against the marble steps. His handsome face twisted into an expression of pure, unadulterated horror.

  “Anya! Anya, what—”

  I couldn’t even form the words to answer him. My mouth instantly flooded with rushing blood. Hot, salty, and suffocatingly thick. It gushed out of my throat, spilled from my nose, and poured from my ears. I was choking on it.

  “Fuck!” Adrian roared, violently scooping me up into his arms and sprinting up the rest of the stairs toward the bedroom. “Hold on! Do not close your eyes! Do you hear me? Focus on me!”

  But I couldn’t hold on. The darkness smashed over me in massive, crushing waves, ruthlessly drowning my consciousness. I could still hear his panicked voice, but it sounded distant and horribly distorted, like I was sinking deep underwater.

  “Martha! Get Victor! Right now!”

  The absolute last thing I saw before I plunged into the black void was his face. Deathly pale. Terrified. His beautiful lips were moving, screaming something at me, but I could no longer hear the words.

  Only the silence.

  Freezing. And absolute.

  ***

  I woke up screaming in pain.

  Sharp, burning, tearing my chest apart from the inside. Someone was force-feeding me pure liquid fire. Unbearable, scalding agony.

  I frantically tried to scream, but only a wet, gurgling rasp tore loose from my throat.

  “Hold her down!” Victor’s voice commanded. Harsh. Vicious. “She’s thrashing too much! I can’t stabilize the ruptured channel!”

  Heavy, unyielding hands violently pinned my thrashing shoulders down into the mattress. Powerful. Utterly ruthless.

  “Give her another dose,” Adrian ordered. His voice was absolute zero. “Everything we have.”

  “It will kill her!”

  “Without it, she’ll be dead in under five minutes! Just do it!”

  Another massive wave of liquid fire flooded my veins. My spine arched into a severe bow, my fingers clawing desperately into the sheets. The expensive fabric shredded beneath my frantic grip.

  And then... silence.

  The agonizing pain finally receded. It didn’t vanish entirely—it merely dulled, settling into a deep, throbbing ache radiating through my bones.

  I forced my heavy eyelids open.

  Victor was leaning over me. His hair seemed grayer. He looked totally exhausted. An empty glass syringe dangled loosely from his hand.

  “She’s alive,” he breathed out, stunned. “By some twisted, ungodly miracle, she’s actually alive.”

  Adrian was standing rigidly at the foot of the bed. His face was carved from granite, but his large hands were shaking.

  “What happened to her?”

  “A massive rupture of the primary magical channel.” Victor tossed the syringe away. It hit the hardwood floor with a sharp clatter and rolled into the corner. “The central artery connecting the heart to the arms. It couldn’t handle the monstrous overload. The energy from the Sphere of Truth, heavily combined with your massive reserves, plus the insane training session in the basement... it was far too much. The channel burst exactly like an over-pressurized pipe.”

  He glared up at Adrian. A heavy, accusatory stare.

  “You almost killed her tonight.”

  “I know,” Adrian clenched his fists, his knuckles glowing white. “I... I drastically miscalculated the limit.”

  “You miscalculated?” Victor barked out a dark, vicious laugh. “You forced the raw, unbridled energy of a Level Five artifact straight through heavily necrotic, damaged channels! Do you have any idea what the survival rate for that is? One percent! A single, pathetic percent! She should have burned to ashes!”

  “But she didn’t burn.”

  “Because I just pumped three full doses of Phoenix directly into her heart!” Victor slammed his fist down onto the bedside table. “Three! That is a lethal overdose for any normal human being! That alone should have stopped her heart permanently!”

  “But it didn’t,” Adrian stepped slowly toward the edge of the bed. He sat down heavily and gently took my bruised hand into his. “Because she isn’t a normal human being anymore.”

  Victor fell silent. He looked down at me, his expression softening slightly. Then he looked back up at Adrian.

  “You are playing with wild fire, Prince. And sooner or later, you are all going to burn.”

  He began packing up his extensive medical kit, turning toward the heavy oak door.

  “She will live. But she urgently needs absolute rest. I prescribe a minimum of one strict week of bed rest. No magic at all. No physical exertion. If she pushes herself, the channel will rupture again. And if it does, I won’t be able to pull her back.”

  The heavy door clicked shut.

  Adrian sat rigidly beside me in total silence, firmly holding my hand. His long fingers were like ice against my fevered skin.

  “I’m so sorry,” he finally whispered, the words sounding torn from his throat. “I didn’t mean to... I truly thought you could handle it.”

  I softly squeezed his hand. A weak, barely noticeable pressure.

  “I did... handle it,” I rasped, my voice sounding foreign, destroyed, and shattered. “I’m... still alive.”

  He leaned down, pressing a lingering, tender kiss to my sweaty forehead.“Yes. You are alive. And that is the only thing that matters.”His fingers lightly brushed against the heavy obsidian amulet resting securely against my chest. The stone grew hot, rapidly absorbing the dangerous residual magic lingering around my body, redirecting the lethal energy away from my dangerously weakened heart. Adrian carefully checked the silver clasp, ensuring it was tightly locked in place.“I’m begging you—never, ever take this off,” he whispered against my skin.“I promise,” I answered softly.

  He carefully lay down on top of the covers beside me. He wrapped his strong arms around my aching body, pulling me tight against his chest.

  And we lay exactly like that, lost in the heavy silence, while outside the window, the cold dawn slowly surrendered to morning.

  Completely unaware that in just a few short hours, a letter would arrive.

  A jet-black envelope. Sealed with blood-red wax.

  A brutal summons to the Tribunal.