I watched the man they called Lord Rockford walk away, my heart hammering against my ribs.

  Survivor of Sorrow…

  That’s what the voice called me. The one that spoke when I received The Echo of Life. But that would mean… Did Rockford see everything? All my memories? My real memories from my past life?

  Panic, cold and sharp, seized me for a moment. That would be devastating. But… I forced myself to take a calming breath. If he meant me harm, if he saw something truly dangerous or forbidden in my mind, surely he would have acted immediately? His power was palpable; he had no need for deception or games.

  Still, until I knew for sure, I had to be careful. Very careful.

  My gaze followed Lord Rockford as he directed his troop into the sewer entrance. One by one, the black-armored soldiers descended into the gaping hole and disappeared into the stench below. Rockford himself, however, remained in the courtyard, turning to speak quietly with Jeffrey—the guard captain who’d backhanded me.

  During their brief conversation, I saw Jeffrey’s posture shift, his gaze dropping shamefully to the cobblestones before he gave Rockford a deep, respectful bow. Jeffrey then stepped back about five meters, turning to face Rockford expectantly.

  The tall mage grasped his large staff, the obsidian tip seeming to drink the morning light, and raised it high. His voice rang out, calm yet powerful, resonating across the courtyard.

  “Sentinel’s Bind.”

  A soft, pale blue light bloomed from the obsidian tip, rapidly coalescing into a sphere of energy. Slowly, inexorably, the transparent blue sphere expanded outwards, looking almost like a soap bubble but radiating contained power. It passed harmlessly through the staff, then through Lord Rockford himself, then down into the stone paving without leaving a mark.

  It continued to grow, spreading silently across the courtyard, threatening to engulf me, Pip, and the still-unconscious Theo. Pip, perched calmly on the bench beside me now, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, merely twitching an ear. Theo, of course, remained oblivious in whatever dark place his mind had retreated to.

  A flicker of panic touched me, but seeing Guard Jeffrey standing calmly just outside the sphere’s edge, watching with a neutral expression, helped settle my nerves. The blue… dome… passed through me, Pip, and Theo without any sensation at all. No tingling, no pressure, nothing. It just was.

  The dome continued to expand, growing larger and larger until it formed a massive, shimmering hemisphere easily a hundred meters across, encompassing the entire central courtyard and the buildings immediately surrounding it. Lord Rockford stood rigidly at its center, staff held steady, utterly motionless, his eyes closed now, seemingly concentrating intensely.

  The whole spectacle lasted for what felt like ages, maybe twenty minutes. The blue dome remained perfectly stable, shimmering faintly in the strengthening sunlight.

  Then, finally, movement came from the sewer entrance. The woman with the two daggers climbed out, her movements efficient despite the sewer grime staining her black armor. She went directly to Lord Rockford and bowed, speaking quietly. I couldn’t hear their words, but after a moment, the massive blue dome instantly collapsed in on itself, vanishing without a sound.

  Shortly after, the rest of Rockford’s troop emerged one by one from the manhole. Fresh, dark, viscous blood spattered their armor, but none of them appeared injured, and they looked grimly satisfied. They gathered around Lord Rockford, reporting briefly.

  Definitely an elite squad, I thought, watching their professional demeanor. Quick, quiet, eliminate the target, get out. No fuss.

  Sighing, I leaned my head back against the cool stone wall behind the bench, closing my eyes for a moment and just soaking in the warmth of the sun. Gods, I wanted a bath. I probably stank to high heaven, but just sitting here in the sun felt ridiculously good after the cold, damp cellar and the filthy sewer.

  My brief moment of peace was shattered when someone stepped abruptly in front of me, blocking the sunlight. I started to look down to see who it was, but before my eyes could focus, a vicious slap sent me crashing off the bench onto the hard cobblestones.

  Pain exploded across the other side of my face this time. What the hell?!

  Pip instantly leaped down beside me, fur bristling, letting out a furious hiss and a low growl at my attacker.

  “LOOK AT ME!” roared a voice I knew only too well, thick with fury.

  Lord Victor Shitsworth.

  Angry, teeth gritted against the fresh wave of pain, I forced myself to look up.

  Lord Ainsworth stood looming over me, his face beet-red, practically contorted with rage. He wasn’t in his fine robes now; he wore some kind of formal, dark blue uniform jacket over riding breeches, a sword hanging at his side. Slightly behind him stood Lady Ainsworth, impeccably dressed as always, but her face was pale, her eyes wide with worry as she looked at me on the ground. Conrad stood beside her, his expression blank, his gaze fixed unsettlingly on Theo’s still form near the bench.

  Lord Ainsworth, however, seemed oblivious to everyone but me.

  “First, you cause me profound embarrassment!” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “Then you defy your punishment and escape, only for me to be dragged from my business in the middle of an important meeting by the damned City Watch because you,” he jabbed a finger towards me, “a filthy, stinking slave of House Ainsworth, INSISTED UPON IT?!”

  He punctuated the question by spitting directly down at my face.

  I flinched as the spit hit my cheek, mingling with the drying blood and sewer grime. Bile rose in my throat. Every instinct screamed at me to lash out, to wipe that furious expression off his face permanently. If Pip and Theo weren’t here, if my own life wasn’t forfeit… this would have been the last act of this miserable bastard’s life.

  But they were here.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the white-hot rage down, swallowing the humiliation. Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself into a kneeling position before Lord Ainsworth.

  Lowering my head until I stared at the cobblestones, I forced a tremor of humility into my voice.

  “Lord Ainsworth,” I began. “I beg your forgiveness, humbly. I confess I do not know how I embarrassed you. But please, allow me to explain the situation.”

  To my surprise, Lord Ainsworth actually fell silent, though his breathing was still ragged with fury. Taking his silence as permission, I continued quickly, still kneeling.

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  “After I was relocated to the cellar, My Lord, I accepted it, assuming you had your reasons. However, as I tried to sleep, I heard whimpering in the darkness.” I kept my tone factual, subdued. “Investigating the sound, I found Theo, terrified, huddled in a corner. He had already been… bitten by rats.” I subtly gestured towards Theo’s prone form without looking up, indicating his still-visible, mangled legs.

  “When I tried to protect him, Giant Sewer Rats attacked us suddenly. Many of them.” My voice trembled slightly, recalling the terror. “I was barely able to defeat them, My Lord, and I feared more would come. Since the cellar hatch was barred from the outside, Theo showed me the entrance to the sewers as the only escape route.”

  I took another breath. “Theo had to walk through the filth with his open wounds. We eventually reached this courtyard and were apprehended by the Watch. They threatened to execute us, disbelieving our identities. When I stated we were from House Ainsworth, I insisted they send a messenger to confirm it, and also to fetch a healer for Theo. He will surely die, My Lord, if his wounds are not treated soon. I hope… I hope you can understand my actions were necessary, Lord Ainsworth.”

  I finished my explanation and bowed my head even lower, waiting for his judgment.

  I risked a glance up. Lord Ainsworth stared down at me, his expression strange, the rage momentarily replaced by… confusion? Astonishment?

  “You… you did all that… risked escaping, fighting monsters, confronting the Watch… so Theo wouldn’t die?” he asked, sounding genuinely perplexed.

  A tiny spark of hope flickered within me. Maybe there was a shred of decency buried deep inside him?

  Relieved, I nodded, even managing a small, hopeful smile. “That’s right.”

  The Baron nodded slowly, as if understanding dawned. Then, he turned and walked the few steps over to where Theo lay unconscious.

  Standing over the boy, Ainsworth drew his sword smoothly from its scabbard. Without a word, without any change in expression, he swung the blade in a clean, vicious arc, severing Theo’s head from his body.

  “Well. That didn’t work out.” the Baron sneered, disgustingly self-satisfied.

  What… what just happened?

  My mind struggled to process it. Why… why did he do that? He’d just… killed Theo? Just like that? Coldly. Pointlessly.

  A loud roaring filled my ears, drowning out all other sound.

  The image of Theo crying, being yelled at, pelted with food, slapped by Ainsworth… The image of Theo whimpering in the dark cellar, terrified, gnawed on by rats… That was all horrible enough.

  But this… this image… Theo’s lifeless body lying there, his wounded legs still oozing pus, blood now pooling on the cobblestones from his severed neck… That shook me to my core.

  But what truly shattered something deep inside me, plunging me into an abyss, was the sight of Theo’s head. Lying separate on the stones… tears still tracking paths through the grime on his lifeless cheeks. Even in death, the pain of his short, miserable life seemed to follow him. He just wanted acceptance, a kind word, maybe even love… Instead, he got humiliation, beatings, and a brutal death.

  That sight broke something irreparable within me.

  My hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into my palms until they bled, but I didn't feel it. A violent tremor seized my entire body. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, threatening to burst. Hot tears filled my eyes, spilling down my already filthy cheeks, blurring my vision into a haze of red and grey. But they weren’t tears of sadness.

  They were tears of incandescent rage.

  A scream tore itself from my throat—raw, agonized—screaming out all the pain, all the injustice, all the accumulated fury from my past life and this horrific new one. I barely registered Pip pressing frantically against my legs, trying to ground me as I lost myself… lost in an infinite tide of rage and injustice.

  The same feeling from the reception hall, when Ainsworth first wanted to hurt Pip, washed over me again, ten times stronger. An immense pressure erupted from my core, slamming down onto the courtyard—tangible, heavy, suffocating.

  I knew exactly what it meant.

  Lord Ainsworth clearly knew too. His eyes widened in sudden fear and recognition as he felt the crushing weight radiating from me. He swung his bloody sword towards me, desperation in his movement.

  But fueled by grief and fury, blind to everything but the monster who had just murdered a helpless boy, I lifted a trembling finger, pointing it directly at Lord Ainsworth. A single word hissed through my clenched teeth, torn from the depths of my being:

  “Duality…”

  The blade raced toward me with a dangerous whistle... but before it could reach me, an invisible force slammed into the Baron, hurling him brutally backward through the air.

  He stopped abruptly mid-flight, maybe five meters away, trapped, suspended helplessly. It was as if the air around him had solidified into iron, crushing him from all sides.

  A horrible, soul-tearing scream of agony and terror tore from his throat.

  Yes… just a little more… let it crush the life out of this disgusting bastard…

  A dark, twisted satisfaction flooded through me as I watched him writhe. His screams were music. His pain was justice. The other sounds of the courtyard—the shouts of the guards, Lady Ainsworth's gasp—were drowned out by the pounding of my own blood. Nothing else mattered in that moment. I threatened to lose myself entirely in the seductive, consuming heat of the rage.

  But then, a small, insistent pressure against my leg pulled me back from the brink.

  Pip. Nuzzling me urgently.

  A sudden, gentle warmth spread through my body from her touch, pushing back the icy rage, calming the storm inside. The roaring in my ears faded. The screams of the onlookers, the guards, Lady Ainsworth—sounds I hadn't even registered before—became loud and clear.

  Horrified at what I was doing, what I had almost become, I stopped the mana flow and let it fade.

  The pressure vanished. Lord Ainsworth dropped heavily to the cobblestones with a thud. The screams died down abruptly as everyone in the courtyard turned, staring at the fallen Baron.

  He groaned, stirring. ‘Luckily’—no, I wouldn’t say luckily—he pushed himself up, looking shaken, hair dishevelled, uniform dusty, but seemingly… unharmed. That brief moment of relief was shattered as his eyes found me, blazing with renewed, murderous fury.

  That was apparently reason enough. He raised his sword again, staggering forward. “THAT’S IT! DIE, YOU WORTHLESS SLAVE!”

  Suddenly, a figure moved, faster than I thought possible, stepping directly between me and the charging Baron.

  Lord Rockford.

  His back was to me, but I could feel the power radiating from him like heat from a furnace.

  “Baron Victor Ainsworth,” Rockford’s voice was deep, calm, but resonated with absolute authority that stopped Ainsworth in his tracks. “By my authority as Advisor to the King and Archmage of the Kingdom of Astoria, I, Augustus Rockford, hereby take you into custody for the crimes of enslavement and murder. You will be presented to the King for judgment tomorrow.”

  He didn’t even look at Ainsworth as he spoke the next words.

  “Lady Ainsworth. You are also required to appear before the King tomorrow. A messenger will deliver the official summons later today.”

  Lady Ainsworth went deathly pale, her composure finally cracking as she sank into a deep, trembling curtsy.

  Advisor to the King? Archmage of Astoria? Augustus… Rockford?

  Oh Shit. This guy wasn’t just a powerful mage; he was the power, second only to the King himself, maybe.

  The person standing protectively before me slowly turned his head, just enough for me to see Ainsworth now floating helplessly a few inches off the ground, encased in another shimmering blue sphere, similar to the 'Sentinel's Bind' from earlier. A barrier keeping him contained?

  Lord Rockford looked at me for a brief moment, those wise, ancient green eyes seeming to hold a hint of sympathy, before turning back to address the courtyard.

  “Jeffrey,” he called out to the guard captain.

  “Please see to it that the poor boy’s body is removed with care and buried with the respect he deserves. I will visit his grave personally, so ensure it is done properly. I will cover any costs myself.”

  The guard named Jeffrey, looking pale and shaken, bowed deeply without a word and quickly disappeared through a nearby doorway to carry out the order.

  Now Lord Rockford turned fully back to me. “You will come with me.” he said, his voice kind again, gentle. “We will see about getting that disgusting bracelet removed from your wrist. Alright?”

  My mind was still reeling, thoughts colliding in a chaotic mess. Survivor of Sorrow… The title echoed again. And now, almost immediately, we were meeting again under these horrific circumstances. But his calm authority was grounding, an anchor in the storm.

  Remembering his titles, I quickly bowed my head.

  “Lord Rockford,” I began, hoping my address was correct now, “please forgive me if I haven’t spoken correctly or with enough respect, but… I can only come with you if my cat, Pip, is allowed to come too. Is that possible?”

  I held my breath, looking down at Pip who sat calmly at my feet now.

  The Archmage looked down at me, then his gaze fell upon Pip. He seemed slightly confused by my condition. For a long moment, the powerful man and the small cat just stared at each other.

  Then, Lord Rockford blinked, looking almost… startled? He cleared his throat and replied slowly, almost stammering.

  “Ah… yes. Of course… she can… come…”