As Lyara remembered, the cavalry was the elite of the guard. They did not take part in investigations nor handle paperwork; they were war machines in the purest sense—armored tanks ready to massacre anyone who disturbed the peace of Veltraxis, cd in gleaming silver pte and wielding weapons heavier than any human could handle with grace.

  Aedran would probably have joined their ranks to avoid paperwork altogether, but beyond sheer strength, knights were expected to project control and composure, to embody the people’s sense of safety… something Aedran could never truly maintain. That was why it was so unsettling to see three of them sprawled on the ground, their silver armor drenched in deep crimson. The ptes were scorched or pierced, and one suit had even been petrified and shattered, exposing a face frozen in terror.

  They were in one of the districts of the third circle, home to the technical middle css—the more specialized strata of the proletariat. They were not bourgeois, but neither did they scrape by like those in the outer districts. The residents gnced over from time to time with a mix of curiosity and fear as the guard cordoned off the scene with a special tape. There was little they could do to stop those living in nearby apartments from leaning out of their windows as they ate lunch. The square was enclosed by houses, with a small fountain at its center. It was difficult to imagine how a mage could have killed three knights so quickly before anyone had time to react.

  Lyara stepped forward, carefully checking whether any of her academy cssmates were among the fallen. Fortunately, none of them were. The others arrived a few minutes ter. The guards and forensic officers watched Aoi pass with open admiration, as though she were an exotic animal, and instinctively took several steps back when Thaelen and Aedran crossed the scene.

  Kaeldric had sent them alone; he had other matters to attend to. Aedran surveyed the area closely, searching for any trace of magic. He was wearing the MK1 armor over his guard uniform. Lysette had insisted so relentlessly that he had eventually given in, just to make her stop compining. He had given her a couple of instructions on how it worked, and nothing more.

  Aedran knelt beside the knights and picked up a bit of dust from the ground. The markings on his skin reacted in a strange way. That was when Lyara noticed why: faint greenish glimmers shimmered across the floor, along with shards of crystal scattered everywhere, even though no windows were broken.

  “You’re the ones from the new division, right?” asked one of the forensic officers—a young man with gsses, slightly long hair, a specialized uniform, and gloves.

  Lyara raised her hand to her forehead in an official salute. The forensic officer returned it, though she noticed that none of the others did; only Aoi bowed respectfully.

  “What a group.”

  “Yes, we’re working on it,” Lyara replied.

  “So, how are you, Aedran?”

  “Fine, Mark,” Aedran answered without enthusiasm.

  Mark narrowed his eyes and looked back at Lyara.

  “Well, I assume you already know the basics. There are no traces of homemade explosives, and no metal fragments beyond what belongs to the knights’ armor, so the most obvious expnation is a mage. There’s also Camellium powder scattered across the ground.”

  Aedran nodded and stood up.

  “A seal mage…”

  “Maybe,” Mark continued. “There is Camellium powder, but no visible remains of scrolls or simir, and you need both to use it, maybe some artifact, but in that case, there would be no Camellium powder in the scene. There are no signs of a struggle; they were killed before they could react. Blood is everywhere, but the hunters have identified four sets of tracks.” He gestured toward the four-eyed hounds sniffing along the trails. “At least some of the blood doesn’t belong to the knights. Anything else you need to know?”

  The group exchanged looks, unsure of what else to consider. The forensic officer noticed immediately and was about to return to work when one of his colleagues approached and handed him a piece of paper. The man examined it for a few seconds and passed it to Lyara.

  “They found this wedged between the tiles,” he said.

  Lyara studied it for a moment, then nervously approached Aedran. He took the paper and paused. It was reddish, with a crudely drawn white hand—identical to the one he had seen on the materialization mage. A sharp pain shot through his body, and his eyes reddened slightly.

  “Is there any red Camellium at the site?” he asked, standing up at once. Mark watched him for a few seconds, thinking.

  “We haven’t found anything like that,” he replied. “It would be a potential hazard, so we always make sure before processing the scene.”

  Aedran sighed and nodded, calmer now, though Lyara could see sweat running down his face.

  The forensic team continued examining the area while the division members sat by the fountain. Aedran stared at the scene, deep in thought. Lyara looked at the fallen knights and thought: Aedran is surely stronger than they were—but how could a mage take down three of them so quickly? She leaned forward slightly, letting the fountain’s spray brush against her hair.

  “How strange,” Aedran muttered through clenched teeth, frustrated. “Mages usually leave visible traces—scrolls in seal magic, residual elemental energy…”

  “What about entropy or materialization magic?” Thaelen asked, confused.

  Aedran tilted his head.

  “They still leave residual traces that the hunters can follow,” he said, gncing at the dark-furred hound, which stuck out its tongue cheerfully as it waited for orders—or for someone to py with. Lyara stepped closer and scratched behind its ears.

  “How sure are we that this is seal magic?” Lyara asked.

  “Well, if there’s Camellium dust, either seal magic or barrier magic was used; that’s the only reason to employ it. Unless, of course…” Aedran picked up one of the crystal fragments and fixed his red eyes on it. Seeing nothing, he clicked his tongue and tossed it to Thaelen. “Come on, superior race—tell me if you see anything.”

  Thaelen examined it carefully. It was well known that the Drynari—especially those chosen for battle like him—possessed extraordinarily sharp senses. Lyara wondered why Aedran, as a Gramorguian with enhanced perception, couldn’t sense the same thing.

  A few seconds passed. Thaelen traced the crystal with his fingers, sensing an odd texture, focused his gaze further, and his pupils contracted like the lens of a scope.

  “Are there runes engraved in the crystal?”

  “Really? I was just guessing, since there wasn’t any broken crystal nearby,” Aedran said as he took the fragment from Thaelen and handed it to the hound, which sniffed it with interest. “Looks like we’re dealing with an interesting mage.”

  “Seals engraved into crystal?” Lyara asked. “That’s strange…”

  “Yes,” Aedran replied, standing up. “It’s only possible in very specific cases. But probably means we’re dealing with a poly-Camelic mage.”

  The team stayed a little longer, helping to finish processing the knights. Aedran wanted to see whether they uncovered anything else, though deep down he knew they already had everything they needed. The group kept gncing at the bodies out of the corner of their eyes, their nervousness obvious. For Thaelen and Aoi it was irrelevant, but Marreck and Elryn couldn’t look away from those pale faces.

  Lyara approached Aedran, who was staring at the corpses with a serious expression. There was no sign of genuine interest in the fallen.

  “It’s strange that they’d send only one division to investigate the murder of knights, isn’t it?” Lyara asked. Her hand trembled slightly every time she looked at the bodies, so she forced herself to focus on Aedran instead. He lowered his gaze with a hint of weariness.

  “I suppose so. Kaeldric is particurly interested in seeing whether we can function as a unit, and the whole point of the division is that we can handle this on our own if it’s a mage,” Aedran expined. Lyara thought she caught a faint tremor in his pupils.

  “Can I ask you something?” she continued. Aedran looked at her. “Does this really not affect you at all?”

  It sted only an instant, but Lyara noticed it. Aedran hesitated; he flinched slightly at the question and turned his gaze back toward the knights.

  “I’ve seen worse. It’s not my concern how they died, but what to do with the one responsible,” he replied, walking away before Lyara could say anything else.

  “Liar,” she muttered, shaking her head before returning to work and helping Elryn step away from the scene.

  Eventually, Aedran borrowed the hunter, and they began following it through the streets of Veltraxis. The city was organized into five circles. The central one housed the headquarters of the guard, the core of power, and the pce where all decisions were made. The second circle, where Lyara lived, belonged to an obscenely rich and powerful bourgeoisie: almost the entire district was controlled by some twenty families and influential merchants. It was also the cultural quarter and the city’s main center of commerce.

  The third circle, where they were now, concentrated nearly all forms of entertainment, as well as the technical guilds. The coliseum, the theater, and even the studio of a revolutionary invention—the camera, capable of capturing an instant in time… or something like that. Lyara still didn’t fully understand how it worked. It was the most crowded area; even the poor came there to distract themselves. Its purpose was clear: to keep the people content.

  Then came the fourth circle, dimmer and focused on production, though still a decent pce to live. And finally, the outer districts, where the city continued to expand—the most marginal part of Veltraxis. Perfect for someone like Aedran.

  They moved through the third circle, along perfectly paved streets and aesthetically pleasing buildings where several rge families lived together, rather than a single household as in Lyara’s district. A few children ran past them. Aedran assumed they had skipped css; it was still too early for them to be outside. Not his problem.

  They kept walking until Aedran shook himself out of his thoughts and turned toward them.

  “This is the perfect situation to expin why you were wrong in your answers.”

  “Wow, are you finally going to act like the unit’s leader?” Thaelen asked with sarcasm.

  “We should write it down and keep track of it, in case it’s the onset of dementia,” Lyara added, while Aoi struggled to hold back her ughter out of respect.

  Elryn barely looked up. Marreck, for his part, said nothing—out of fear of Aedran rather than disinterest. He sighed and turned away again.

  “What is Camelian magic? And why do we allow it—or rather, why don’t the Celestials care about other kinds of magic, like Aoi’s or druidic magic?” Aedran began, adopting a teacher’s tone that hovered between mockery and seriousness.

  Lyara wondered why he had decided to start a lesson out of nowhere.

  Is he trying to distract himself from the dead knights? Or from the White Hand?

  She sighed and, for the moment, decided to py along.

  “The truth is that they’re all abilities inherent to each race. Mages, more than divine beings, are a subrace capable of using Camellium at will, so to speak. The problem is that spiritual magic or common druidic magic have very clear limits. Aoi can only generate smoke or see people’s hearts; Thaelen can barely turn himself invisible. Which, for someone ordinary like Marreck, is already impressive.”

  “Hey,” the merchant finally protested, though Aedran’s amused look was enough to make him fall silent.

  “Continuing,” Aedran said as they turned at an intersection the hound followed without hesitation. It was then they noticed they were heading toward the fourth circle. Aedran didn’t seem to care. “Camelian magic, on the other hand, is far more dangerous. An average mage can set a house on fire; a fourth- or fifth-tier mage could destroy an entire city. It’s too flexible, too unpredictable. All we know is that the limit lies in the mage’s capacity to use their magical channels—but that’s power, not form.”

  He raised the crystal once more. The seals were not visible to the naked eye, but they were there.

  “A creative mage could use it in infinite ways. And even so, we believed it had limits. Until the…”

  He stopped short, as if choking on his own words, and frowned for a second.

  “The Red Night?” Elryn supplied cautiously.

  They all looked at her in warning, though she didn’t seem to fully understand why. Lyara watched Aedran.

  Of course she had to mention it, she thought.

  But Aedran only returned her gaze with a hint of wariness and continued as if nothing had happened.

  “Yes. After… that, a Celestial was killed by human mages. Camelian magic… we have no idea what its true potential is. That’s why uncontrolled mages represent such a risk. There’s no longer any guarantee that, if one becomes dangerous, the Celestials or the Sentinels will intervene.”

  The emotion in Aedran’s expnation had faded. Lyara had noticed it before—a faint gleam in his eyes. He enjoyed teaching, sharing knowledge others cked. There was arrogance in it, yes, but also something genuinely enjoyable.

  “So… is it true that all the Sentinels died that day?” Thaelen asked, with more boldness than was advisable.

  “Not all of them. Wayne is the strongest one still alive, though years ago he rejected any kind of duty. We don’t even know where in the ocean he is—pying at being a pirate,” Aedran said, grinding his teeth as if he knew the man well, even though Lyara understood he hadn’t set foot in Veltraxis for over twenty years. “Aside from him, there are only two or three left. Nowhere near enough to help the four human nations.”

  Aoi moved closer to Lyara and whispered, “Sorry… what exactly is a Sentinel?”

  Lyara looked at her, startled. She couldn’t imagine someone not knowing what they were—until she remembered that Aoi couldn’t have been on the central continent for more than ten years, during a time when everyone preferred not to mention them.

  “Well… they’re human, but at the same time they aren’t,” she tried to expin, a little unsure. It was the first time she’d ever had to put it into words. “They had strange abilities, powerful enough to rival the Celestials and fourth-tier mages—sometimes even fifth-tier ones. But they weren’t Camelian. No one knows where their power came from. On the Red Night, the Red Hand knew they would all be gathered during the first anniversary of the City of the New Dawn. They used them like batteries to unleash that event… killing almost all of them.”

  “And why the hell would they all be there?” Aoi asked.

  “Well, the City of the New Dawn—”

  “Hey,” Aedran interrupted.

  Everyone looked up. The hound had stopped right in front of a bar, deep in the fourth circle. Lyara sighed in relief at not having to continue such an uncomfortable expnation, at least for now.

  They moved through the district’s streets, more pitted and worn-down. The inhabitants of the fourth circle passed by them; there were more people here than before, but they watched the group with suspicion. Especially Thaelen and Aoi, whom they eyed with a mix of caution and revulsion.

  The two outsiders took it all in silently. Elryn lowered her gaze even further, though she kept gncing around. Lyara wondered if she might be looking for her father.

  Aedran walked through the crowd without a care. Many recognized him, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the lower the district, the more comfortable he appeared.

  They reached the bar’s entrance and went inside without hesitation.

  Silence immediately took over the room.

  Several men rose from their seats, moving forward with slow, unmistakable hostility. Thaelen and Aoi tensed, ready to react, but Aedran raised a hand to stop them.

  The men halted in front of him. They were intimidating—nearly his height. One of them lifted a hand and pnted it heavily on Aedran’s shoulder, who kept smiling like an idiot.

  “Well, would you look at that,” the man said arrogantly. “The asshole’s back. I thought I told you that if you ever set foot in here again, I’d break a chair over your back.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to try, Dutch,” Aedran replied. “Though I’d hate to have to fix that awful face of yours.”

  The tension spiked instantly.

  Lyara was visibly nervous, unsure where to look, until the man sighed and let out a booming ugh that echoed through the bar. Aedran immediately joined in, and the pce erupted into murmurs and ughter.

  “By the heavens, I never get tired of seeing how rookies react,” Dutch said, pointing at Aedran’s team.

  They were completely thrown off—hands on their weapons, half-formed combat stances, faces tight with confusion.

  Lyara kicked Aedran in the leg.

  “Idiot! Do you have any idea how many things could’ve gone wrong because of you?”

  Aedran grabbed her by the head to keep her at arm’s length.

  “Well now, that’s a pretty little girl,” Dutch remarked. “You didn’t steal her from some noble, did you?”

  “Oh, not at all,” Aedran scoffed. “She came after me all on her own.”

  Lyara flushed instantly.

  “So what brings you here?” Dutch asked with curiosity as he poured him a beer.

  Aedran took it without thinking that he was on duty and took a long gulp.

  “Well…” he began, just as the hound crossed the tavern.

  The beast’s four paws stirred murmurs and hurried footsteps among the patrons. Lyara followed its movement with her eyes.

  “We’re looking for someone.”

  Aedran looked up just as the hound stopped, fixing its four eyes on a hooded man seated at the back. The man reacted too te—when he turned, Thaelen and Aedran immediately noticed the dried blood smeared across his face.

  When the man saw Aedran, his eyes widened in pure terror.

  “And it looks like we’ve found him,” Aedran said, setting the mug down on the counter.

  The man raised a hand in panic. His eyes fred with an intense green light, and in an instant the ground shook violently. A shard of stone burst upward, tearing through the tavern floor and smming straight into Aedran’s stomach, hurling him into a shelf and shattering several bottles of liquor.

  “Shit!” Aedran groaned, clearly stunned.

  He staggered back to his feet, drenched in alcohol, and looked at his companions while trying to catch his breath.

  “What are you waiting for, idiots?! After him!” The man was already fleeing as Dutch stared at the destruction with his mouth hanging open. Aedran gnced at the wrecked bar and the liquor spilling across the floor. “Uh… do you take guard-issued checks?”

  End of Chapter 8.

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