Ana whistled.

  “So, basically, I can now literally create my own army?” she remarked.

  “Within reason,” I replied. “Every time you summon something, you’ll use up magical energy, and if you overdo it, you’ll quickly become exhausted. But in a moment of need, all this will give you an opportunity to escape or change the course of the fight.”

  Ana rotated the ring on her finger pensively, evidently evaluating the new possibilities that the items presented to her. She then glanced over at me curiously.

  “What about that pendant? Does that have some special power too?”

  I smiled.

  “Oh, that’s my favorite. If you activate it and touch any stone surface with it, you can create temporary tunnels and passageways. That’ll allow you to escape quickly from a trap or get behind your enemies easily.”

  Ana’s eyes widened.

  “You mean, I can now pass through walls?”

  “Exactly, but only by using up a lot of your energy and within the limits of natural materials. Concrete, brick, earth, and stone are all perfect. But if you try and pass through steel or magically enhanced barriers, the effect will be weaker. Basically, everything you can already do, but massively enhanced by the meteorite metal.”

  Ana shook her head in shock.

  “I didn’t know Earth magic could be so flexible, Theodore,” she remarked.

  “Therein lies its power,” I replied. “It can’t just create shields — it can make you part of the surrounding world. You’ll be able to adapt to any situation, whether it be fighting, escaping, or an ambush.”

  Basically, I fully kitted her out, and only then did I head off to get some rest, exhausted but happy. However, I didn’t sleep well. For the first time in ages, I had a dream. It was vivid, realistic, terrifying…

  I dreamed that Liechtenstein was in flames. Fiery whirlwinds swirled above the towns and villages, turning them to ash. A flock of huge, predatory birds was flying through the dark, smoke-filled sky.

  Monsters were roaming around the ruins. The massive, hideous beasts were hunting one another and tearing each other to pieces. Among them were Shadows, monsters, and even people wearing Imperial uniforms — Austro-Hungarians, Prussians, English, Americans… They were all there, in my principality. But… there weren’t any citizens of Liechtenstein. Not a single one. It was as if they’d disappeared or vanished into thin air.

  I wandered among this nightmare, trying to find a single survivor, but only death and destruction awaited me at every turn. The buildings had been destroyed, and the streets were covered in debris.

  I reached my estate, only to find that that was burning too. The flames had engulfed the walls and consumed the wood and stone. I burst in, hoping to find Ana there, but the place was empty.

  “Ana!” I shouted, my voice drowned out by the roar of the inferno. “Where are you?!”

  But I received no response. All I could hear was the cracking of the burning beams and the howling wind as it blew through the broken windows.

  I ran out of the burning house and saw that the whole of Tsar’s Town, where my estate was located, was also engulfed in flames.

  Suddenly, I saw her — Ana. She was standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by Shadows. Her beautiful face was pale, and her eyes were full of fear. She was trying to defend herself using her Gift, but the odds were stacked against her. The Shadows rushed at her from all directions and tore her to pieces.

  I wanted to run to her. I wanted to protect her, but… I couldn’t. My legs felt like they were full of lead, and I couldn’t move them. All I could do was watch her die…

  I jolted upright in bed like I’d been scalded. My heart was racing. I looked around. The room was bathed in sunlight and seemed peaceful and safe. Ana was curled up next to me and was snoring lightly.

  Phew, what kind of messed-up dream was that?!

  I tuned into my senses. At first glance, everything seemed fine, but… Something was amiss. A strange, barely discernible feeling of fear was dogging me. It was as if someone invisible was watching me and trying to get into my mind.

  I activated my Gift to scan my own body. I immediately found something unusual — a thin, almost imperceptible strand of foreign energy that had attached itself to my magical Core like a leech.

  “Well, well… Who might be cocky enough to do that?” I chuckled to myself. “The things people come up with… They’ve sent a witch after me! They’ve decided to rob my mind!”

  Witches… I had first-hand experience of them. I’d dealt with them in my past world on more than one occasion. They were dangerous creatures, capable of manipulating the energy of life and death, invading people’s minds, putting curses on people, and creating illusions. And even though I hadn’t yet encountered them in this world, totally ruling out the possibility of their existence would have been foolish.

  That dream… It hadn’t just been my mind playing tricks on me. It had been a mental attack. A witch had tried to get into my mind to sow seeds of fear and despair. And it had to be said, it had almost worked. If it hadn’t been for my Gift… who knows how it might have ended.

  I didn’t know who’d done it, of course, but I suspected that my “beloved” parents had had a hand in it, as pulling off this little stunt required the blood of a member of my Dynasty. Having said that, right now, that was inconsequential. The most important thing was that I’d discovered it in good time.

  I mentally grabbed the thread of energy, which was stretching toward me from an unknown location, and began pumping my own magic into it. It was like taking a narrow wire linked to a battery and suddenly connecting a high-voltage power line to it.

  The witch who was trying to manipulate me evidently detected this surge of energy, as she immediately tried to break away from me. I wouldn’t let her go, however. I continued feeding her with my energy, simultaneously enjoying her impotent fury, screeching, and other cries. I wanted her to feel what it felt like to mess with an Architect.

  She was probably writhing in pain like a worm on a griddle. After all, my energy wasn’t just any old power. It was the pure, concentrated might of Earth magic, capable of destroying anyone who dared stand in my way. And despite all their abilities, witches weren’t well-suited to deal with such attacks. They were more accustomed to working from the shadows, using cunning and deceit rather than brute force.

  After a few seconds, once the channel connecting us was full to bursting with my energy, I finally released her. I was sure the witch would remember that lesson for a long time. She wouldn’t dare “approach” me again in the near future.

  I stretched and got up out of bed, flexing my cramped muscles. It was time to start a new day. A day on which I was scheduled to meet with the Oracle, a possible candidate for the post of head of the Covert Security Service.

  Chapter 8

  A military aerodrome in Pskov, the Russian Empire

  The Stormborne mansion

  COUNT STORMBORNE was pensively stroking his chin as he examined a picture hanging on the wall. The image, painted in oil on canvas, depicted one of his ancestors, proudly mounted atop a battle steed and brandishing a spear.

  Suddenly, the prevailing silence in the office was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Stormborne said quietly without averting his gaze from the painting.

  The door opened silently, and two men dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Secret Chancellery walked into the office.

  “Count Stormborne,” one of them began, “we have a business proposition for you.”

  “We need your help,” the second man continued, surveying the opulent office with its large furniture, paintings in gilded frames, and extensive wine rack that occupied an entire wall. “It’s a matter of national importance.”

  Stormborne slowly turned to face the men who’d entered and studied them intently. He knew their visit did not bode well. Words such as “proposition” and “help” sounded more like threats when uttered by these gentlemen.

  “National importance?” the count remarked, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds intriguing. What does this… proposition of yours entail? And how long do I have to think about it?”

  “There’s no time for deliberation,” the first man replied sharply. “And you have no choice, Your Excellency. We need Diana — the woman who lives with you as your… er… housekeeper. She is… how can I put this mildly… under our control. We know about your ‘business’ relationship with her. And that she has been carrying out your orders for many years. So, according to our agreement, she is obligated to provide her services to us. Any of her services.”

  Stormborne heaved a deep sigh. He knew there was no point in protesting. The men wouldn’t back down. And if he refused, the consequences could be very serious indeed.

  “Well…” he said finally, getting up from his chair. “So, you want Diana… Very well. Come with me. I’ll take you to her.”

  He led the men along a long corridor lined with expensive paintings. Stormborne’s mansion was a museum of luxury. It had high ceilings, spacious hallways, exquisite stucco moldings, paintings by renowned artists, antique furniture — all of which spoke loudly of the Dynasty’s wealth and influence.

  They stopped in front of a large oak door decorated with carved patterns. Stormborne turned the handle and pushed.

  “After you,” he said, ushering his “guests” inside.

  They walked into a spacious hall that had once served as a library. However, the space had undergone drastic changes since then. The bookshelves had all been pushed to the walls to free up space in the middle of the hall. On the floor, covered by a large cloth, was a large table littered with strange objects — flasks, vials, plant cuttings, and animal bones.

  In the corner, they could see a ritual circle drawn in chalk, atop which was a copper cauldron with a concoction bubbling away inside. There was an odd smell in the air — a mixture of grass, incense, and something else, repugnant and cloying. The cauldron was held aloft by an invisible force and floated in the air without any kind of support or stand. There was no fire beneath it, not a hint of any kind of heat source, but the murky liquid within it continued to bubble away and emit clouds of steam from time to time.

  “Diana,” Stormborne said to a woman sitting at the desk, poring over a book, “you’ve got visitors.”

  The witch slowly raised her head and shot a cold glance at the men who’d walked in. Her long black hair, interwoven with silvery strands, neatly framed her pale face. She looked no older than forty, but Stormborne knew she had served his father. How old she really was, the count had no idea. And frankly, he didn’t want to know.

  The woman was… the very embodiment of darkness. She was the Stormborne Dynasty’s secret weapon, someone who faithfully carried out their dirtiest and most dangerous tasks. Her cruelty knew no bounds. For her, killing someone was as easy as swatting a fly. That was precisely the skill of which the Stormbornes had made use, eliminating their competitors and anyone they didn’t like. Until one day, they got caught and had to make a deal that they couldn’t refuse.

  “Back again, are you?” the witch said quietly, glancing at the officers with a wry smile on her face. “What do you want this time? Remember — ancient magic comes at a cost. And it always demands an exchange of equal value.”

  “The price is irrelevant,” one of the men replied. “The Empire will pay any amount.”

  “I’m not talking about money,” Diana replied with a shake of the head and a rasping cackle. “Well, out with it, who do you want killed? I’m busy.”

  “We don’t want anyone killed. We’ve got an easier job for you this time. We just need you to… er… ‘tweak’ the psyche of a particular individual a little bit.”

  “Tweak it?” Diana raised an eyebrow. “And how much is ‘a little bit’?”

  “We need him to be… afraid of his own shadow. We want him to become paranoid. To lose his mind. Basically, we want to make sure that not a trace is left of the man he is right now.”

  “Pff…” Diana scoffed. “Child’s play! Give me his blood, his address, and a photo of him.”

  She got up from her desk, walked over to the cauldron, and threw a handful of dry branches into it. The fire erupted with renewed vigor, and thick pink smoke began rising from the cauldron. Diana inhaled the smoke deeply, then adopted the lotus position and closed her eyes as she fell into a trance.

  One of the men took a printed dossier and a small vial containing a dark red liquid out of his pocket. Without opening her eyes, Diana took them from him and removed the cork from the vial. Then, without hesitation, she drank its entire contents in one gulp.

  “Old blood…” she whispered, licking her lips. “It doesn’t belong to your target. It’s probably from one of his ancestors. The connection won’t be as strong. But… it will have to suffice.”

  * * *

  I was sitting in my office, gazing impatiently at my watch. The hands were moving at a snail’s pace, as if mocking me. As always, Grimrock had acted fast — he had found the guy we needed and organized a meeting, inviting him to visit me at my estate.

  Finally, there was a knock at the door. The Oracle had shown up at precisely the scheduled time.

  “Come in!” I said quietly.

  The door opened, and in walked… an old man? And he wasn’t just old. He looked like a wreck. He was thin and round-shouldered. His face was riddled with deep wrinkles, as if someone had deliberately and repeatedly scraped it with a rake. His hair, which had evidently been dark at one point, was now completely gray and stuck out in all directions like a pile of hay. His clothes hung on him as if they were on a coat stand, only emphasizing how skinny he was.

  He was a pale shadow of the man I’d seen in the photo in his dossier. He looked like he’d just crawled out of his grave. To be honest, my first thought was, “Grimrock, are you having a laugh?! Why have you brought this scrawny old coot to see me?!”

  “I am Nikolay Mikhailovich Sobolev,” the ‘old coot’ said by way of an introduction, walking across the room with some difficulty. “But you can call me Nikolay. Or… what’s that name you young people use these days… Niko? Actually, nah. Niko doesn’t suit me.”

  I struggled to stop myself laughing. Niko, eh? Well, he had a sense of humor, at least.

  “Theodore the Babylonian,” I replied, getting up from my desk and shaking his hand. “You can call me Theodore.”

  His handshake was weak and timid, as if he was afraid of breaking my hand.

  “Please, take a seat,” I gestured toward a chair opposite my desk. “Tea, coffee, cognac?”

  “Cognac?” Sobolev raised his eyebrows in surprise. “At this time? No, thank you. I gave up drinking. Many years ago. Although…” He paused for a moment. “…if you have a good French grande reserve, I wouldn’t say no to a snifter. Just for… er… medicinal purposes. The doctors say it's good for the heart in small doses.”

  “Frederick!” I shouted. “Bring us some cognac.”

  A few seconds later, our butler entered the office carrying a tray upon which was placed a decanter of cognac and two glasses.

  “Help yourself, Nikolay,” I said, pouring the cognac into the glasses.

  “Thank you,” he replied, picking up a glass with trembling hands. Having taken a large swig, he closed his eyes blissfully. “Mmmm…” he said. “That’s excellent cognac! I haven’t had any that good for a long time.”

  I looked at him curiously. Oracle, huh… Grimrock had told me this guy was a living legend of the Secret Service. That he was capable of uncovering any conspiracy, of reading people’s thoughts, and of predicting the future. That was all hard to believe when I looked at the trembling old man in front of me.

  “Well, Nikolay,” I began once he had relaxed a little. “Colonel Polyanin has told me about your… er… skills. Is everything people say about you true?”

  Sobolev slowly placed his glass on the table and looked at me. His expression changed in an instant — the haziness of old age disappeared, and I saw keen, piercing eyes that seemed to be staring right into my soul.

  “Is it true?” he repeated with a wry chuckle, his voice adopting a different tone — one that was far harsher than befitted his appearance. “What exactly did Colonel Polyanin tell you? That I’m psychic? That I can see the future? Or maybe that I can read people’s thoughts?”

  “Let’s say he told me all of that,” I replied cautiously.

  “And now you probably think that I’m just some old charlatan whom Grimrock… sorry, Colonel Polyanin has decided to try and pass off as a genius.”

  He leaned forward, and I noticed that he was looking at me with one eye — the other had evidently been damaged and was no longer functional.

  “You’re disappointed by the way I look and have your doubts regarding whether it was worth wasting time on this meeting. Well, you know, Theodore… Your butler, Frederick… He’s not just a simple butler, is he? I’m guessing he’s former spec ops. Judging by his posture, bearing, and the way he moves silently. And he’s carrying a gun under his jacket. A Vityaz-19, if I’m not mistaken.”

  I froze.

  “So you know why I’ve invited you here, then.”

  Sobolev nodded, the penetrating gaze of his remaining healthy eye still fixed on me.

  “Yes. But I must warn you, young man. My best days are behind me. Look at me. I’m a mess. I’m old and sick… My body is just one big injury. I am no longer the man I once was.”

  He looked down bitterly at his right hand, which was almost motionless. His fingers barely moved, as if they simply refused to obey him.

  “Well, indeed, Nikolay,” I said, staring at him curiously. “You do look rather… er… wizened. What happened? Surely these past few years in Europe haven’t changed you that much?”