The Empire of Bisontia is a land where money talks, that’s what people from around the world say. The wealth of several lifetimes of colonization, proxy wars and many other questionable deeds had kept the nation up in the very top of the world for a very, very long time, and nowhere was this more palpable than in its capital: Great Bisontia. Enormous skyscrapers rose to the skies, only dwarfed by the fumes of the many cars and chimneys all around the place.

  Great Bisontia was a place of constant movement, of loud noises and rude, uncaring people. A melting pot of the many cultures the Empire had absorbed during its ruthless conquest of the world. Most people had learned to simply ignore the uncomfortable conflicts that arose from that, to the detriment of the peoples who were a little too “dark skinned”, a little too “foreign” to really “fit in”.

  Such is society, Sleeper or Otherwise.

  But that night, people were not rushing through the streets. The beeping of the cars was accompanied by a new sound, one that didn’t come from the multitudes trying to push each other around.

  Rain.

  Of all the possible weather to hit the city that night, torrential rain was honestly a little too perfect to be true. The fat raindrops hit every surface savagely, the main streets were a cacophony of echoes and rhythmical percussion, while every other citizen tried to run out and away into the closest shelter they could find. Aside from the few cars still left from the past peak hour, the streets were empty.

  Only two figures braved the rain, their black capes pressing tightly to their bodies under the weight of all that water. They were sitting on top of a relatively small brick building.

  Morgana was smiling, her hand holding her beloved’s while watching the panorama.

  “Oh Alexander…” She sighed, leaning a little closer to the taller man without even caring about the rain above them. “Isn’t this romantic?”

  Alexander looked at his beloved, smirking, while his thumb gently caressed her hand.

  “Romantic, my love? I have not even noticed! I’ve been lost in your eyes the entire time.” He said without an ounce of shame.

  “The very Gods are crying, tears of joy fall heavier than any other! They know we are on their side and they can’t contain their excitement.” Morgana brushed a few blond hairs off her face. “Their encouragement means the world to me..”

  “I didn’t see it that way.” The man confessed. “Your talent to see the brighter side of this putrid world never ceases to bewitch me…”

  Under the rain, the couple looked into each other’s eyes and their smiles went from serene and slight to wide and full of barely contained anticipation. They pressed their foreheads together, both hands holding each other.

  “Remember the plan.” Morgana said, barely containing her giggle. “We go in, we do it, we go out.”

  “Don’t worry my love, I remember.” Alexander closed his eyes. “I love you.”

  “I love you too…” Morgana closed hers as well.

  The rain’s sound took over the silence between them. They both were whispering, chanting, casting a long glyph rune by rune. As they did, mana from the air around them began to swirl slowly, to move in the form of a wind that began as something rather humble, weak and unnoticeable… and was soon starting to blow harder, like a storm approaching.

  A thunder roared in the distance.

  The raindrops ceased to land on the bodies of both sorcerers, stopped by an invisible boundary that separated them from reality…

  The intense heat came first, a sizzling, intense sensation that could easily burn both wizards up to a crisp if they messed up any part of the incantation.

  Then, a searing pain. All muscles and joints lost their strength at once. And from that pain, came relief… as meat, bone and cloth began to melt, to swirl, to mix. Cracking, moist sounds echoed into the night as two bodies lost their individuality completely.

  Morgana laughed as her being disappeared into Alexander’s, a moan escaping both their lips until, suddenly, there were no more lips to really articulate a word. Colour, flesh and tissue mixed with each other into a single fleshy, black orb, floating in the middle of the air…

  A crust had formed outside, giving it the appearance of a giant, boiling egg… and as rain once again managed to reach it, each drop sizzled and evaporated the instant it touched the orb.

  Silence…

  And then, the first cracks appeared on the egg’s shell.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  So what would you say is your political position?” The man, who I have come to learn is called ‘Pierre’, smiles at me as he writes down my other answers. Mostly personal stuff, what I do, where I live, what’s my story, etc.

  We have been talking for at least thirty minutes. He explained to me that magic is dangerous and that we need to be careful with it around Sleepers and so on. That I have a responsibility with the community, that I shouldn’t take my new power for granted, and yadda yadda yadda…

  I appreciate that he is taking the time to explain this to me but, it does feel a bit repetitive after my talks with Mustafá.

  “Well, I actually consider myself a-political. I don’t like to see the conflicts in the world, and I feel like they all come from the political class.”

  Ah yes, the ‘centrist’ approach to politics. I couldn’t just tell them I am a filthy communist or something like that, no. That would make them worry I’d do something ‘stupid’ with my magic! I need to look as unassuming and uncaring as possible, a perfect sheep people, and there’s nothing less threatening than a centrist!

  The kind of person who looks at the oppressed, then at the oppressors, and says ‘I think both of them are equally bad, I am very intelligent’. There’s nothing less threatening than that.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Aren’t you being a bit smug here? After all, it’s not like you go out there and do something about these situations you are protesting about.”

  Well yeah but at least I am self-aware about it, that makes me less bad!

  “Or worse.”

  Shut up.

  “I see, I see.” Pierre nods softly. “I agree, actually! Sometimes I wished people could just stop fighting and focus on fixing the issues all around us!”

  Of course he agrees. I mean, he does work for the government.

  With a nod, the man fills what's left of my sheet with comments that I am sure say I am just another idiot kid going around with magical powers or something like that. He probably expects me to die in a week or something.

  “Do you always have to think so bad of others…? He’s just a nice person. Try to be less suspicious.”

  I guess that’s fair..

  After filling the sheet, getting my signature and the print from my thumb, Pierre takes my picture and, with a few quick motions of his hands which I am not sure if they were magical or even necessary, he passes me a warm plastic card. It’s a second driver’s license…? But I can see a few runes inscribed in the corners.

  “Use this if anyone asks you to identify yourself.” Pierre explains. “If you get in trouble with Sleeper authorities for a magical incident, use this and they will defer you to our offices and we will take care of the situation.”

  “Thank you.” I say with a little nod. “Is there anything else I have to do?”

  “Remember that you have a Prentice License, so you can’t teach or work on very specific facilities. You need to upgrade your license if you wish to do things like that.” The officer smiles with pride. “I actually have a Teacher’s license!”

  “Congratulations!” I am trying hard to smile. “I guess I need to take exams to upgrade my license and all that, right?”

  “Correct, but there’s no need to worry about that now.” After checking inside of the desk, Pierre passes me a pamphlet and a piece of cardboard. “These are the directions to your sanctioned Elysium, and your Basic Chart of Spells. It’s a little boost we give new mages, just in case they need it.”

  The cardboard holds three symbols in it, each with its respective pronunciation and effect, one of which I already have seen several times.

  “Pekgr” (which I know has to do with movement, here it is described as a ‘telekinesis spell’), “Aka” (which is labeled as a ‘spell that fixes objects that have been broken by non-magical means’), and “Jol” (which is labeled as ‘a spell that allows the control of fluids and water’).

  I am quick to assume these mean “To move”, “To mend” and “Water” in the language of the Gods, these will be great additions to my dictionary.

  But then a question assaults me.

  “Isn’t writing and printing these runes quite dangerous? What if someone tries to activate them?” I ask, tilting my head softly.

  “Someone is very cautious, that’s great!” Pierre is delighted. “This paper is made with sphinx hair fiber, it nullifies the magic it touches.”

  Now that is huge. I gasp, my eyes lighting up with excitement, only for the man to say.

  “No. Sphinxes are no longer a thing.”

  With a sigh, I shake my head softly.

  “Then how did you make this?”

  “The formula is a secret.” Pierre nods. “Even if I knew how, which I don’t by the way, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you. All I know is that all sphinx hair has been synthetic for a while now.”

  Now that’s a little disappointing, but I guess I can always ask Mustafá about it!

  Wait, isn’t there another thing I had to ask her about?

  Suddenly, a phone rings. Not mine, but Pierre’s. He smiles at me.

  “Ah sorry, I really have to take this, but you are done! So you may leave now!”

  “Oh, really?” I carefully stand up. “Thank you!”

  “No problem, my friend. “ Pierre reaches to shake my hand. I hesitantly reciprocate the gesture. His hands are big and firm… gulp.

  “Control yourself.”

  With a bow, I quickly move out of the white room. I have some things to talk about with Mustafá anyways. I just hope she’s still waiting for me out there…

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Pierre stared for a moment after the young mage had left. He knew a person was masking when he saw one, so this little person wouldn’t trick him into believing his little lies. The kid clearly knew more than he was letting on…

  “Oh well, as long as he stays out of trouble, that’s fine by me.” The officer said, nodding softly, trying not to be too cruel and give the kid a week at most in this dangerous world.

  He finally picked up his phone.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “Pierre, holy shit, have you seen the news!?” The voice of Lucía rang from the other side of the call.

  “I mean, I am at the job right now.” Pierre sighed and sat back down, checking the laptop on the desk “I haven’t been able to–”

  “The Emperor of Bisontia, Pierre. He’s dead. Along with several others.” Lucía was dead serious, completely unlike her usual.

  “A terrorist attack?” Pierre tried his best to keep his cool.

  “It was a magical incident.” She quickly said.

  “...The resistance finally made its move?” Cold sweat rolled down the man’s back.

  “We don’t know. We don’t even know what the spell was that they used. But the few survivors are speaking of a ‘terrible beast’ coming from the sewers.”

  Sleepers had been witnesses of this. Not only was that a threat to the secret, but that also meant many new mages being forced into this world. Pierre rubbed his temples as he saw the news on ‘The Belltower’. Pictures showed the destroyed sewer entrance, charred pieces of furniture, blood on the building…

  What the Hell was going on?

  “This is bad, Pierre. The Sleeper government is demanding answers and we have no idea who to blame for this. The Resistance is denying their involvement.” Lucía was distressed, for the first time in a while. “This is bad.”

  “As long as this doesn’t affect us…” Pierre tried to keep calm but, honestly, this was beyond him. “What are we gonna do?”

  “Wait for word from Tranquility Palace, and just… well. Pray. Pray that this doesn’t escalate.” Lucía sighed, shakily. “... Keep an eye on this and tell me if anything new develops. I gotta issue a meeting with the Lieutenants.”

  “Right, right.” Pierre frowned. More work, hooray.

  “Thank you…”

  Click.

  The officer took a deep breath, and sighed. He had never needed a cigarette like right now.

  Just who was crazy enough to do something as stupid as this?

  What did they want to achieve?

  And why did it feel like this was just the start…?

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The office of the Captain of Saüle’s Squadron was quite small for such a hefty title. Resting right besides the almost always abandoned seat of the Overseer, the place was a square room full of books, an old planisphere, and a wide mahogany desk. Pictures of the past captains had been hung on the sides of the place, their watchful eyes looking with disdain at their newest colleague.

  Lucía set the phone on her desk, and sighed again. She was trembling. She looked at her hands with a mixture of excitement and fear, as her sighing turned into a nervous, cackling laughter.

  She stood up from her tall chair, walking from side to side while her hands ran through her hair.

  “What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do…??” She mumbled over and over, almost in a trance. “Oh my King, is this also a part of your plan?”

  She stopped looking back at her planisphere and giving it a few spins. She could imagine the entirety of Jericho catching fire from this. And worst of all? Most Sleepers wouldn’t even know what hit them.

  “That bitch better get on with the damn translation, or I am taking the book from him myself.”