I woke to pain in my wrists.

  I was tied to a rough wooden chair with thick leather straps that dug into my skin. My head throbbed, and my neck felt stiff and numb.

  The room was made of stone. Cold, unpolished walls. Weak light flickered from a single torch-lamp mounted on the wall. The air smelled sharply of damp earth and mold.

  Somewhere far away, deep in a maze of corridors, I heard quiet, steady footsteps.

  The door, made of thick wooden planks, creaked open.

  An Aurion stepped inside.

  He wore an expensive robe with gilded sleeves. The moment he entered, I felt an overwhelming amount of mana surrounding him. Goosebumps ran down my arms.

  He closed the door behind him and stood there for a few seconds, studying me like a rare specimen.

  — You’re awake, — he said at last. His voice was calm, even, almost gentle. — Good. I don’t like speaking to bodies that cannot answer.

  He stepped closer. His movements were quiet, controlled. His mana pressed against the air, as if the room itself had grown heavier.

  — Don’t be afraid, — he continued, noticing my tension. — If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up.

  He stopped in front of me, clasped his hands behind his back, and tilted his head slightly.

  — My name is Kael, — he said. — And unlike the others, I’m genuinely interested in what you have to say.

  I swallowed. My wrists burned, the straps held firm. I tried to move — useless.

  — Where… — my voice cracked. My throat was dry. — Where am I?

  — In a Legion fortress, — he answered without hesitation. — The location won’t help you, so there’s no need to remember it.

  He glanced at my hands, at the straps.

  — I’m sorry you were dragged into this. You see, you were working for the one we’ve been at war with for over two thousand years. According to Ragnar, you didn’t even realize it yourself. That happens. But we can’t release you yet.

  — Why? I’m just a child who happened to find that damned cube by accident. Please, let me go. I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt me.

  Kael walked toward me slowly. He stopped a few meters away. Then he raised his hand.

  Roots burst from the stone floor beside him, twisting together, forming the shape of a chair. He sat down calmly.

  — What is your name? — he asked.

  — Eiron… Lurue.

  — Good, Eiron. You were a conduit for Spherum. The cube you carried is an artifact used as a key—

  — Wait, — I interrupted. — I was a conduit for Spherum? You mean Spherum, the god of knowledge?

  — Correct.

  — Why would he need me?

  Kael smiled.

  It was the most unnatural, unsettling smile I had ever seen.

  — Let me explain everything. And this time, don’t interrupt.

  He crossed his arms.

  — You are right. Spherum is the god of knowledge — one of the six gods of Etheria. In the early eras, he was truly beneficial. Many discoveries in every field were made thanks to him. He taught mortals how to transform mana into magic through runic spheres. We owe him much.

  Kael leaned back in his root-formed chair, never taking his eyes off me.

  — But with each new discovery, mortals grew less willing to seek knowledge themselves. When the first kingdoms were formed and the standard of living rose, mortals became complacent. You’ve probably heard the saying: good times create weak people.

  — Yes, — I said quietly, rubbing the back of my head.

  — Spherum did not accept that. When life is easy, there is no need to improve. But the god of knowledge craves new knowledge. He does not merely share it — he learns from mortals as well. So Spherum began creating wars, epidemics, disasters — forcing mortals to innovate, to solve problems they could not ignore.

  He gestured slightly.

  — The magical beacons of Illusion, for example, were first built during one of the Demon Wars. Their barrier was invented to save the city. Nowhere else in the world does such a structure exist. Without war, without desperation, such knowledge would never have been born.

  I listened in silence.

  Every sentence raised questions — but I was afraid to interrupt him again. Everything he said sounded insane. And yet… it might be true. I had lived in this world for over ten years, and still knew almost nothing.

  — May I ask something? — I said carefully, my voice trembling.

  — Yes.

  — Why are you telling me all this… if you suspect me of working with Spherum?

  Kael answered immediately.

  — Because, for now, you are our prisoner. And this information is not secret. If we told ordinary Aurions that the god they worship is responsible for countless disasters, they would stone us to death. At best.

  My stomach dropped.

  — Wait. You said prisoner?

  Kael hesitated briefly, choosing his words.

  — Yes. I cannot release you yet. You will remain here for some time. We happen to need a cleaner.

  — A… cleaner? — I repeated, certain I had misheard.

  — Of course. We won’t feed you for free. Don’t worry — the work won’t be too difficult. I’m sure you’ll manage.

  I stared at him.

  — You still haven’t told me who you are. Are you Dominion guards?

  Kael smiled faintly.

  — No. Not exactly. Our organization is called the Legion of Freedom. The name isn’t very impressive, but I didn’t choose it. We are not a government force. We oppose Spherum’s influence across the continent of Asperra.

  — Strange. I’ve never heard of you.

  — We operate in the shadows. Most people simply refuse to believe Spherum could be anything but benevolent.

  I hesitated, then asked:

  — Then how do you know he isn’t? Why does everyone else believe he’s good — and only you claim to know the truth? Why hasn’t anyone else realized it in thousands of years?

  For the first time, Kael seemed caught off guard.

  — Remind me. How old are you?

  — Eleven. Why?

  He studied me carefully.

  — You’re unusually perceptive for a child. I’ve spoken to many children. None spoke like you do. You speak like an adult. It’s… unsettling. Are you certain you’re eleven?

  My chest tightened.

  For a moment, it felt as if I were being crushed under invisible pressure.

  He was the first person to ask me that directly.

  Did he know?

  No… that was impossible. He was just a mage. Even the Guild knew nothing of my reincarnation.

  Unless… he wasn’t just a mage.

  — Of course I’m eleven, — I said as calmly as I could.

  Kael watched me as if he knew I was lying. But he said nothing.

  Instead, he continued:

  — We know things others do not. For example, Ragnar’s father died before his eyes. And afterward… something entered his corpse.

  My breath caught.

  — Entered?

  — Yes. Spherum can inhabit bodies. But only those whose souls have already departed. Only corpses.

  My voice shook.

  — You mean… he can kill someone… and pretend to be them?

  Kael nodded slowly.

  — Exactly.

  He paused.

  — He can speak with their voice. See through their eyes. Access fragments of their memories — enough to deceive.

  He let the silence settle.

  — That’s why we trust no one completely. Not even each other.

  The torch crackled.

  I swallowed.

  — Then… how do you know it isn’t him?

  Kael answered calmly:

  — Sometimes… we don’t.

  — Sometimes we realize too late.

  He stood. The root-chair crumbled into dust and sank back into the stone floor.

  He walked slowly across the room.

  — You asked earlier why others never realized the truth.

  He placed a hand against the cold wall.

  — Because Spherum does not look like evil.

  He turned toward me.

  — War leads to new weapons.

  Epidemics lead to new healing arts.

  Disasters lead to new spells, new theories, new barriers.

  His gaze was heavy.

  — He does not destroy the world. He teaches it. With blood.

  My stomach twisted.

  — Then… why haven’t the other gods stopped him?

  Kael hesitated.

  — How would I know? I’ve never met a god. If I do, I’ll ask.

  He looked at me again.

  — As for you. As I said, you will work here. You’ve already been useful to him. Which means… you could be useful again.

  I forced the question out:

  — How long will I stay here?

  — I don’t know.

  — What do you mean, you don’t know? My family is waiting for me, and I’m supposed to clean your floors?

  His voice hardened slightly.

  — You are not in a position to negotiate. If you refuse… we will resolve the matter differently. And you will not like the outcome.

  I said nothing.

  I didn’t need to be a genius to understand what he meant.

  Kael nodded faintly.

  — Good. Ragnar will show you where you will sleep and work. For now, stay here.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  He walked out.

  The door shut with a dull thud.

  And I was left alone.

  With pain in my wrists.

  With чужими словами echoing in my head.

  And with one terrifying thought:

  If the god of knowledge had chosen me once… he could choose me again.

  The dungeon corridors were narrow and low. The stone hadn’t been decorated—only roughly leveled, tool marks still visible along the walls. Torches burned sparsely, leaving long stretches of dim half-darkness between them. Kael walked calmly, at an even pace, as if he had just finished an ordinary conversation—not decided someone’s fate.

  As soon as he exited the dungeon, Ragnar was waiting near the entrance, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

  — Are you serious? — Ragnar’s voice came out sharp, barely hiding his irritation. — Tell me that was a joke.

  Kael stopped.

  Ragnar stood a few steps away. His shoulders were tense, fingers curled into a fist. The sword on his back was sheathed, but that meant nothing—he was dangerous even without it.

  — If it were a joke, — Kael said calmly, — I would be smiling.

  Ragnar grimaced.

  — You left him alive. After he tried to hand over the cube?

  — Yes.

  — And what exactly are you planning to do with him?

  Kael stepped past him, placing a foot on the first stair.

  — He’s our new cleaner now.

  For a moment, silence filled the corridor.

  Then Ragnar turned sharply, stepped after him, and grabbed Kael by the shoulder. Not roughly—but firmly enough to draw a line.

  — Have you lost your mind? — he hissed. — That boy worked for Spherum. It doesn’t matter whether he knew it or not. He was a conduit. And you want to keep him inside the fortress?

  Kael slowly removed Ragnar’s hand from his shoulder.

  — I want you to show him the fortress, — he said. — Where he’ll sleep. Where he’ll work. And where he is forbidden to go.

  — No, — Ragnar replied sharply. — First explain what you were smoking before you made that decision.

  Kael said nothing. He only turned his head slightly away.

  Ragnar stepped closer.

  — And what if he’s an Apostle? Or worse—a vessel?

  — He is neither a vessel nor an Apostle.

  — You’re certain? — Ragnar narrowed his eyes. — Or are you just hoping?

  Kael met his gaze.

  — I am certain.

  Ragnar clenched his jaw.

  — Then why is he here? — he asked quietly. — If he’s neither vessel nor Apostle, why did you let him live?

  Kael did not answer immediately. He turned and continued down the corridor. The staircase led them into a wider passage where the ceilings were higher and the air drier.

  — He will be useful to us in the future, — Kael said at last.

  Ragnar stopped abruptly.

  — That’s nonsense, — he said coldly. — That’s not a reason. That’s an excuse.

  He stared at Kael’s back, and there was more than anger in his voice—something personal.

  — I know why you spared him.

  Kael stopped.

  — Because he’s an Aurion.

  The words fell heavily, like a hammer striking stone.

  Kael did not turn. He did not deny it. He did not confirm it.

  One second passed. Then another.

  — Calm yourself, Ragnar, — he said evenly. — And do as I asked.

  He turned halfway.

  — Show him around.

  Kael walked on without waiting for a response.

  Ragnar remained in the corridor, watching him leave.

  His face was dark, and his gaze was hard.

  I remained sitting in the cell. Kael hadn’t even bothered to untie my hands.

  I heard footsteps in the corridor again. They were loud and confident—not like Kael’s. The sound stopped at my door, and then he entered. The Asgard who had captured me.

  His eyes fixed on me. The gaze was heavy, promising nothing good.

  — Follow me.

  We left the dungeon, and I hurried after him.

  The first place we stopped was a door on the second floor.

  — This is your room. You’ll sleep here, — Ragnar said, pointing inside.

  The room was surprisingly clean and dry. Inside stood new, functional wooden furniture: a simple but wide bed with a thick mattress, a small writing desk, and a chair. The room was neat, but completely without luxury.

  — Keep it clean.

  We moved on. At the end of the corridor, behind a heavy oak door, was the armory. Dozens of swords, daggers, and enchanted crossbows hung along the walls.

  — This is the arsenal. You’ll come here every evening. You’ll clean it. And if you damage anything… you’ll regret it.

  He showed me the latrine, the laundry, and the other basic facilities. After the brief tour, we went to the dining hall.

  Ragnar stepped away from me, making it clear he was no longer interested.

  — Kael. He’s yours.

  Kael nodded with a careless smile.

  — Eyron, you may rest today. Your duties begin tomorrow at sunrise.

  — Understood, — I replied.

  I headed toward my room.

  Wait… where was it?

  The fortress was so massive I hadn’t memorized the path. I didn’t even know how to reach the second floor from here. Damn it. And I’d have to clean this entire place every day? Half the day would go just to scrubbing floors.

  I stepped into a narrow corridor that seemed to lead to the residential wing—and stopped.

  A woman stood in front of me. An Aurion. She had just stepped out of one of the offices, wearing a green robe. Her long golden hair was braided into an intricate plait.

  — Oh, — she said, her voice filled with open curiosity. She approached with a gentle smile. — You’re… new, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you before. We don’t often add new members.

  — Yes. My name is Eyron, — I said, giving a slight bow.

  — Lirana Vols. Water mage. Welcome, Eyron, — she nodded warmly, but then frowned as she looked at me more closely. — Good heavens… tell me, please… how old are you, child?

  — Eleven, I think.

  Her smile faltered. She placed a hand on her chest, her blue eyes flashing with soft but unmistakable outrage.

  — Eleven? Kael… this is madness. Bringing someone so young into the Legion… it’s unjust.

  Her anger was directed at empty air—clearly meant for Kael.

  — How did you end up here, Eyron?

  — Ragnar brought me here, — I explained. — I was supposed to deliver a cube to Malaxus. Kael said I had been working for Spherum, so he couldn’t release me.

  Her eyes widened in shock.

  — You… you worked for him? — she whispered, then quickly caught herself. — Of course. None of you enter this filth willingly. I’m so sorry, Eyron, that you’ve been dragged into this monstrous war. You’re just a child. You should be protected—not fighting over essences.

  — Fighting over essences? What does that mean?

  — Oh… Kael didn’t tell you? — she hesitated, clearly realizing she had said too much. — Then forget I mentioned it.

  Forget it? As if I could just erase that from my mind. Essences? Now I was truly curious.

  She stepped closer.

  — Eyron, if you ever need anything—help, advice, or even just someone to talk to—you can come to me. I’ll gladly help.

  So there was at least one person here who didn’t treat me like garbage. Maybe working in this fortress wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.

  — Thank you. I should go. I need rest before tomorrow.

  — Of course, Eyron. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck with your work.

  I nodded and turned down the narrow corridor, quickly finding my section. After locking the door behind me, I collapsed onto the bed.

  I was a prisoner, dragged into a war between gods.

  But I was alive.

  — This isn’t acceptable, — I muttered to myself. — I need to find a way out of here.

  I slept poorly. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw myself paralyzed while Ragnar fought Malaxus.

  I had just fallen into my deepest sleep when I woke to a shock of freezing cold.

  — AAH! — I shouted, jerking upright in bed.

  I was soaked. Cold water, smelling of salt and damp earth, ran down my face and hair onto the mattress.

  Ragnar stood over my cot. A wooden bucket hung from his hand. His amber eyes stared at me with complete indifference.

  — Are you insane?! — I snapped. For a moment, I forgot I was a prisoner and spoke to him with the same anger I used when Loreann did something stupid.

  Ragnar slowly set the bucket on the floor. He didn’t even bother to wipe the water from my face.

  — Stop sleeping, slacker. Dawn was hours ago. You were supposed to be working at sunrise.

  — You—! — I choked on my anger, then quickly remembered that this was the man who had nearly killed me yesterday.

  — What, “you”? — Ragnar tilted his head slightly. — You’re not just a child anymore. You are Legion property. If you want to survive, you’ll move faster than your useless thoughts.

  Property?!

  How was I supposed to work with my head pounding like this?!

  — I didn’t sleep enough, idiot! Kael said I could rest!

  — You had six hours. That’s a luxury. In the Legion, we sleep when we’re not dying. Now— — his voice dropped, cold and threatening — get up. Go. Start cleaning. Or do you want me to give you more “rest” like yesterday?

  Six hours? Who could function on that? In my old life, I slept twelve hours a day. I missed that comfort more than anything.

  Sometimes I even wondered if it would’ve been easier to remain crippled—at least I would’ve lived in peace.

  — I’m going, — I muttered, lowering my feet onto the cold stone floor.

  Satisfied, Ragnar left the room, leaving me wet and furious.

  I dressed quickly in the rough, dry clothes he’d left in the corner.

  Then I stepped into the corridor, gripping a bucket and rag in my hand.

  I headed toward the dining hall to begin my first task.

  When I entered the vaulted chamber, I saw that the people at the table had changed.

  Ragnar sat at the head, his arms thicker than my legs. Beside him, Kael and Lirana leaned over a map, discussing something quietly.

  But there was someone new.

  He was short and athletic, belonging to a race I vaguely remembered from geography lessons—the Terr-Ain. His face was friendly but sly, vaguely monkey-like, with large, observant eyes. He wore simple but clean clothing made of thin brown fabric.

  — Good morning, Eyron, — Kael said casually, biting into a piece of apple pie. — I hope you slept well.

  — Perfectly, — I lied through clenched teeth.

  I approached the table silently, trying not to interrupt.

  The new man looked up at me.

  — Kael, since when do we recruit children? — he asked.

  — He isn’t just a child, Ivory, — Kael replied calmly. — He’s our prisoner.

  — And what could a child possibly do to be taken prisoner? — Ivory asked.

  Kael scribbled something in his notebook before answering.

  — He served Spherum. We chose not to kill him because he’s still young. But releasing him would be risky. Who knows—he might serve the God of Knowledge again.

  Ivory studied me carefully.

  — Your name is Eyron, correct?

  — Yes.

  — I pity you. You’re young, yet you’ve been taken from your parents and forced to work against your will. It’s not far from slavery. But be grateful to Ragnar for sparing your life. If it had been me, I would’ve killed you immediately.

  Grateful?

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  — Now then, Eyron, — Kael said, taking control of the conversation again. — Your first assignment is the entire fortress. Every speck of dust, every shard of stone, every stain—you’ll clean it all before sunset.

  He looked at me calmly.

  — Go. Your time starts now.

  I nodPart 5

  The room was dark, lit only by a few blue crystals embedded in the walls. Their cold glow fell across a stone table where a chessboard stood.

  The pieces were unusual.

  The white ones were carved from bone.

  The black ones—from obsidian.

  Vortex lounged in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. He lazily spun a knight between his fingers, as if it were a toy rather than a game piece.

  Across from him sat Atrox.

  He sat perfectly upright, motionless like a statue. His eyes were fixed on the board, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

  Vortex yawned.

  — Boring.

  He placed the knight on a square without even looking.

  — Check.

  Atrox slowly shifted his gaze to the board. He was silent for several seconds before calmly moving a rook to block the line.

  — You never play seriously, — he said.

  — Why would I? — Vortex shrugged. — I win anyway.

  He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

  — So what now? The Legion took the cube.

  Atrox did not answer immediately. He moved a pawn carefully, as if every motion mattered.

  — Nothing, — he said.

  Vortex lowered his gaze.

  — What do you mean, nothing?

  — The Legion doesn’t know the coordinates of the Essence, — Atrox explained calmly. — A key without a lock is useless. They’ll have to search just like we do.

  Vortex snorted.

  — So we’re not in a hurry?

  — No.

  Silence hung between them. The crystals crackled faintly as mana pulsed through them.

  — Corven, — Atrox continued, — has likely already begun searching. They know what we’re after.

  He moved a bishop.

  — I’m almost certain he’ll send units to the northern part of the Silver Moss Forest.

  Vortex raised an eyebrow.

  — That’s where one of our bases is, isn’t it?

  — Yes.

  — And what are you going to do? — Vortex asked lazily, already knowing the answer.

  Atrox looked at him.

  — I’m sending you there.

  A pause.

  Vortex looked at the board. Then at the ceiling. Then back at Atrox.

  — I’m not going.

  The silence grew heavier.

  — That’s an order, — Atrox said coldly.

  Vortex smirked.

  — That’s boredom.

  He moved his queen without looking.

  — What, I’m supposed to sit there for weeks? Waiting for Corven to play detective? What if they never even show up?

  Atrox tightened his grip on the armrest.

  — You’re an Apostle, Vortex. Not a mercenary who picks assignments based on mood.

  — I’m not picking anything, — Vortex replied calmly. — I just don’t waste time on pointless waiting.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  — Give me a real objective. A fight. A hunt. A massacre. Anything.

  — That is your objective, — Atrox snapped. — Protect the base.

  Vortex rolled his eyes.

  — From who? Corven scouts? They won’t even have time to blink before they’re dead.

  — You don’t know that.

  — I do know it’ll be boring.

  Click.

  Atrox moved a piece sharply, nearly knocking over the board.

  — I’m tired of this, — he said quietly. — You’re nothing but trouble.

  Vortex’s smile widened.

  — I’ve always been trouble.— I’m serious, — Atrox’s voice hardened. — You ignore orders. You disappear when you’re needed. You appear when no one called you.He leaned forward.— And every time, I hear the same word.A pause.— Boring.

  Vortex’s smile didn’t fade, but his eyes grew colder.

  — What do you want me to say? — he asked quietly. — That I enjoy sitting in a forest waiting for rats?

  Atrox held his gaze.

  — I want you to fulfill your role.

  — I do, — Vortex replied calmly. — When something worthy appears.

  He made his final move.

  — Checkmate.

  Atrox didn’t even look at the board.

  — You will go to Silver Moss, — he said.

  — No.

  — That’s Morlok’s order.

  — I don’t care whose order it is. Even if Spherum himself told me to go, I wouldn’t.

  Vortex leaned back in his chair.

  — Send Sinistra. She’s not doing anything right now, is she?

  — And if Asterion is there?

  Vortex paused, then smirked faintly.

  — Ah. So that’s it. You want to send me because he might be there.

  — He’s the strongest water mage alive. I don’t have anyone else who can deal with him.— Don’t be ridiculous, — Vortex said, his voice rising slightly. — He may be called the God of Water, but he’s slow as a turtle. Sinistra wouldn’t have trouble with him.Atrox said nothing.— You overestimate him, — Vortex continued. — He’s called a god because it benefits the Dominion. In reality, even you could defeat him.

  Vortex stood and turned to leave. Then, over his shoulder, he added:

  — You should worry about Kael instead. He’ll cause you far more trouble.

  Vortex left, leaving Atrox alone with his thoughts.

  Atrox stared at the chessboard.

  Slowly, he placed the black king directly in front of a lone white pawn.

  — So the pawn is already on the board, — he murmured.