I still remembered the night when an old friend came bearing my death sentence, like it was yesterday. The sky was clear, unnaturally so — not a single cloud to soften the moonlight as it bathed the land in a pale, silver glow. The moon itself hung low in the sky, heavy and ominously close, as though it had descended just to witness what was to come. The world below, however, remained unaware. Silent. Still.

  From my perch above the courtyard, I watched a solitary figure in a long black mantle approach the mansion. He walked without urgency, completely unimpeded, as though he were expected. But he wasn’t. Of that I was certain. No guard challenged him. No warning bells rang. And yet, it was not mere oversight — it was intention. He wanted to be unseen. Or rather, he wanted only me to see him.

  It wasn’t that I possessed some unique power or insight. I was no different from the others in that regard. But if Nezar didn’t want to be perceived, nobody could perceive him. That was the extent of his mastery. I even heard the front door shut behind him, the sound disturbingly mundane amidst the unnatural calm, and still, no one stirred. The staff remained blissfully ignorant, as if a shadow hadn’t just slipped past them all.

  Magic was a terrifying, beautiful thing. Every time I bore witness to its potential — to his potential — I was reminded of how little we truly understood the rules governing our world. Nezar could go anywhere he wished, speak with anyone without ever being heard by a third, and kill without leaving a trace. And yet, that wasn’t even the most dangerous thing about him.

  No, what truly made Nezar formidable was his arrogance — the effortless way he moved through the world as though it had already bowed to him. That night was no exception. Without knocking, he pushed open the locked door to my private study and strolled in like he owned the place, whistling some old tune that instantly set my nerves on edge. He didn’t greet me. He didn’t ask permission. He simply sat down on the leather sofa, pulled a crumpled cigarette from his cloak, and with a flick of his fingers, lit the tip in a whisper of flame.

  “How’s the search for the philosopher’s stone coming along?” I asked, falling into the familiar ritual that always marked our meetings. It was the subject that consumed him more than any other. I wouldn’t say he was obsessed, but it was dangerously close.

  Nezar exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips like it carried secrets of its own. “All the wisdom our little kingdom has managed to hoard amounts to nothing,” he said flatly. “I’ve read everything there is. Scrolls, forbidden tomes, even that ridiculous translation of the Alkahest Codex. Nothing. I’d love to get my hands on a few elvish manuscripts, but unfortunately, colluding with the enemy tends to get one hanged.”

  He gave me a pointed look through the haze of smoke before blowing it in my direction with calculated nonchalance.

  Annoyed, I waved it away. “Ever heard from Sirius?” I asked, knowing full well the answer wouldn’t please me. Hope still clung to my words, even if logic rejected it. Sirius had vanished years ago, swallowed whole by whatever madness he chased. No letters. No sightings. No corpse. Just silence.

  Nezar tapped ash onto the carpet without a care. “How long’s it been? Ten years?” he mused aloud. “Yes … ten. Time moves differently now, doesn’t it?” He leaned back and closed his eyes, briefly allowing a sliver of nostalgia to cross his expression. “He wanted the stone too, you know. That was the last thing we talked about.”

  His voice grew quiet, almost reverent. “He believed in it. Maybe too much. And when belief outweighs caution … well, you disappear.”

  I nodded. It was all we could do now — acknowledge the past and move on, because we had already buried enough ghosts in our memories.

  “I’ve chosen a different path,” Nezar continued after a long pause. “It’s mystical — and I mean that in the truest sense. It goes beyond magic.”

  I raised a brow. “Everything you do is mystical, Nezar.”

  “No,” he said, eyes snapping open with an intensity that made the candlelight flicker. “Magic is bound by the laws of this world. What I’m chasing now is not. I’ve found something greater. Someone, actually.”

  There was a weight to those words. A tension that hadn’t been there before. I sat up straighter.

  “Meaning?” I asked carefully. He was either drawing me into something far beyond my comprehension or giving me the key to an opportunity I couldn’t afford to ignore.

  He smiled — a slow, unsettling curve of his lips. “I’ve found a god. Not some pagan deity conjured from smoke and mirrors. A real one. Not only does he have the philosopher’s stone — he has the means to make it. And he’s already proved it.”

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  The implications struck like thunder, reverberating through my bones. This wasn’t just dangerous. It was madness.

  “How do you know he can grant wishes like that?” I asked, lowering my voice, suddenly aware of how fragile reality felt in that moment.

  “Because he already has,” Nezar whispered, his voice now reverent. “He made something for me. Something that should not exist. He created from nothing — not by formula, not by spellwork, but by sheer will. It was … beautiful.”

  A silence fell between us. One that didn’t ask for answers — only decisions. I looked into the smoke curling around his silhouette and wondered whether I was staring at salvation or damnation.

  Perhaps they were the same thing.

  “Arthur, I’m not ageing anymore. My body seems to rejuvenate itself naturally. I have all the time I could ever want — time to become the greatest mage this world has ever known.”

  He said it with such casual conviction, as though the impossible had finally bent to his will — as though time itself had conceded defeat.

  It was everything Nezar had always longed for. Not wealth. Not fame. Just the freedom to continue learning, mastering, evolving. Immortality was the hook, no doubt, a well-baited trap by the god he served. But still … to gift such a thing so freely? That wasn’t the action of a disinterested power. This god clearly had plans for Nezar.

  And Nezar? He was all too willing to oblige.

  “Are you sure betting everything on a god you barely know is wise?” I asked, my voice low and cautious. I couldn’t deny my interest, but it warred with the unease curling in my gut.

  He waved my concern away like smoke. “Don’t worry. He’s not using me. I spend half my time manipulating politics — believe me, I know when I’m being played.” He smirked. “Besides, you’ve tried to talk me into things before. How often has that worked?”

  I frowned. He wasn’t wrong.

  “And he has an offer for you, too.”

  That made me still. Nezar rarely spoke on anyone’s behalf, much less a being claiming godhood. I leaned forward slightly. “I doubt I’ll accept. But I’ll hear it.”

  He straightened up then, a glimmer of seriousness cutting through his usual theatrical flair. The cigarette between his fingers snuffed itself out in a whisper of magic, vanishing like a thought discarded.

  “He wants you to take a girl under your protection. Train her, guide her. She’ll listen to everything you say — though you’d be smart to listen to her in return. In exchange, he promises you’ll become a hero, a true saviour of this world. And not just that — eternal youth. Real youth, not just a preserved shell. Think about it, Arthur. You could rise higher than ever before. With her as your retainer, even the throne could be within reach.”

  It was an extraordinary offer. Almost insultingly tempting.

  But I couldn’t see the angle. What did a god gain by handing me such power? If she were truly obedient, if her loyalty was absolute … then why not? What harm could there be?

  “You’re speaking very highly of her. What makes her so special?” I asked, suspicion prickling in the back of my mind.

  “She’s the daughter of a god,” Nezar said simply, his voice dipping into reverence. “Do you need a better endorsement than that?”

  No. I didn’t. Even if she was inexperienced, she would be formidable in time. The real question wasn’t whether she was useful — it was whether I could trust her. Whether she could be made loyal to me.

  “And she’ll follow my orders?” I pressed.

  “Yes!” he said, leaning forward with sudden fervour. “It’s all in the prophecy. It has to happen!”

  That gave me pause. A prophecy? If even a god had spoken it into being, then what right did I have to doubt?

  I narrowed my eyes. “And who is this god?”

  Nezar smiled — not with warmth, but with that quiet amusement he reserved for truths too absurd to be lies. “The Destroyer of Worlds.”

  That should’ve been my warning. That name alone should have told me everything I needed to know.

  But I didn’t listen. I only heard the promise: eternal youth. Power. Purpose. The crown. And in that moment, it felt close enough to touch.

  I thought nothing could stop me after that day. I believed death itself would be just another obstacle to overcome. With a god on my side, what dream was unreachable?

  But it was all a lie.

  And it wasn’t the god who lied — no, that would have made sense. Gods are distant, unknowable. Their games are played on a scale beyond comprehension.

  It was Nezar who betrayed me. He used me like a tool, manipulated me like any other pawn on his board.

  And I never saw it coming.

  Everything he promised did come true. I took that cursed girl into my life. I became a hero — I even destroyed that monstrosity that had clawed its way out of purgatory. The world was saved. My name written into the pages of legend. And I was granted eternal youth, just as foretold — by Lucinda, no less.

  We could have done anything, she and I. We were unstoppable.

  But the crown never came. The kingdom never bowed. I gave everything — my army, my allies, my soul — and in the end, I was left with a hunger that gnawed at me constantly. Youth became a curse, not a gift. And worst of all?

  Nezar never told me the most important part.

  He never told me she would be my end.