Dozens of members of the Oculus of the Border, in their white robes edged with crimson, moved swiftly through the silent streets of the capital of the Duchy of Bresmitz. It was midnight, and only the public lamps cast a faint glow on the damp cobblestones. The shadows seemed to move of their own accord, distorted by the flickering glow of the magical fire.

  The group advanced in close formation, accompanied by an equally large contingent of Imperial soldiers. The sound of boots echoed in the darkness with a disciplined, almost ritualistic rhythm.

  Their destination was one of the southern neighborhoods of the city, a humble area with blackened thatched roofs and walls cracked by time and poor maintenance. It was there that, only hours before, news had arrived of the sighting of a suspected murderous specter, those mysterious beings who had plunged the Duchy into a spiral of terror.

  According to reports, a solitary figure was seen moving through the alleys next to a particular building, wearing a dark leather mask with an uneven surface, cuts and cracks that seemed to mimic a deformed human face. The description exactly matched that given by the only known survivor.

  The entire Duchy was in a state of panic. Since the murder of a renowned Baron—a direct relative of the Duke—paranoia had spread like an invisible disease. Not only because of the brutality of the crime, but because, for the first time, a Spectre had left a witness alive. And that witness was not only able to describe the killer, but also relayed his infamous threats.

  Led by Connor and a level-7 Imperial Sorcerer, the group moved steadily until they reached the designated location: an abandoned building that had once been a clothing store, now covered in dust and weeds, its windows boarded up and its signs faded from years of neglect.

  According to information that had come in a few hours earlier, lights had been seen inside the building, adding to the sighting of the alleged suspect.

  The group remained in perfect order and silence, while a specialist picked the lock on the main door, while other mages used detection spells on the walls, in case of traps or other surprises.

  Once the door was opened, the first to enter were the mages with earth affinity and the strongest defenses, closely followed by those specialized in offensive magic. Everything was extremely fast and demonstrated the professionalism of the assault group.

  The Oculus, meanwhile, surrounded the building and planted several artifacts around the perimeter, all with the intention of preventing any dimension walker, if there was one, from escaping by opening a portal. By now, Connor suspected that the Spectre organization might even have that level of individuals.

  In less than a minute, the assault team had taken complete control of the building. The mages moved with impeccable discipline, searching room by room, without finding a single sign of human presence. There were no enemies, no noises, and no traces of active magic. Only silence.

  Connor, closely followed by his own research group, crossed the main threshold. The smell of dampness and old dust permeated the air. The peeling walls, worm-eaten furniture, and remnants of rotten fabric gave the impression that no one had lived there for years. However, the sensory mages soon confirmed otherwise.

  "There are traces of human presence, as well as footprints," one reported, his palm flat on the floor. "Very faint, but recent."

  "How long?" Connor asked, without taking his eyes off the hallway.

  "Hours, maybe less."

  The footprints revealed the path of someone who had traveled several times in the same direction. The trail ended in an old, dusty cellar. It was there that a member of the Oculus found a hatch hidden in the floor beneath a pile of crates.

  Once deemed safe to open, the hatch was opened, revealing a wooden staircase descending into a dimly lit underground room.

  "There are no detectable magical traps or poison in suspension," reported one of the magicians in charge of the analysis.

  Connor nodded and led the assault on what appeared to be the final destination of the operation.

  The air in the subterranean level was thick, heavy with the sour smell of damp. The room was about 40 square meters in size, lit only by a small magic lamp flickering dimly on a central table. There was no sign of anyone inside.

  Books, maps, scroll fragments, and food scraps were scattered throughout the room. A wooden bed rested in one corner, covered by a clean blanket. On the main table, just beneath the flickering light, rested a leather mask mounted on a fake head, with the distorted features of a human face.

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  The mere sight of the object made several people tense. The air seemed to thicken.

  The team was soon in action and began searching everything in the room, taking special care for possible traps or dangerous objects. However, the sensory magicians found nothing that seemed to indicate the presence of magic in the room, except for the lamp on the table, which was immediately removed and replaced with other, more powerful lighting devices.

  "The room is clean," a blonde-haired woman told Connor. "From the most striking evidence, someone must have been here very recently, I dare say even hours ago."

  Even though the woman was speaking to him, Connor kept his eyes on the mask the entire time, and when he heard that there was no danger, his hands immediately went to touch the macabre item. An act that raised a few eyebrows from the other members of the assault team.

  "Did you find anything else worthwhile?" he asked, noticing the glances he attracted for a moment.

  "Maps of the capital and several history books," one of the Oculus members replied. "They all look like they were stolen from noble houses. We also found this..." He handed her a strange block the size of a brick. "We found several and thought it was clay, but it's not."

  Connor took one of the blocks and immediately noticed that it wasn't clay, but a completely foreign material, easily deformed by applying a little pressure. "Have you seen anything like this?" he commented, addressing the leader of the assault group, the other Level 7 mage.

  "I've never seen anything like it," the man said with a serious face, manipulating a similar block.

  Before they could argue further, a voice rose from the back of the room.

  "I found something!" shouted one of the Oculus mages.

  Everyone turned. The man emerged from behind a stack of wooden crates, lifting what appeared to be a huge black book, which was immediately placed on the central table, where the specialists examined it with extreme caution.

  Detection spells were activated one after another, until it was finally determined that there were no traces of magic in the book. Only then did Connor approach the aforementioned book to analyze it in detail.

  It was a book with a deep black cover, which seemed to absorb the light from the lamps. Its texture was rough, uneven, as if it had been made using very primitive methods. Engraved in the center, in uneven, faded white letters, were words that were enough to fill the room with an expectant silence: “The Book of Silence.”

  An ominous title, even for wizards accustomed to facing the unknown. Connor stared at it for a few moments, his eyes narrowed, trying to decipher something beyond the simple title. Then he finally opened it.

  To everyone's surprise, there were no pages inside. Instead of pages or any writing, the interior was completely filled with a compact block of the same white clay-like substance they had found scattered throughout the rest of the room.

  But there was something else. Embedded in the center of the block, as if slowly devoured by matter, was a square, metallic-colored artifact, impossible in appearance: shiny, cold, with lines so perfect they seemed the work of a skilled craftsman. What's more, in the center of the artifact, a small, opaque screen stood out above everything else, and on it flickered black symbols in a language none of those present recognized.

  The air became heavy. Even the most experienced held their breath.

  "This is strange," Connor whispered, without taking his eyes off the artifact. "It looks like a magical device, but... I can't detect any magic. It's as if... it operates on some totally unknown principle."

  The leader of the assault group, a weathered mage with scars on his forehead, leaned over the book and studied the flickering symbols.

  "They're moving..." he said, frowning. "They look like signs of something, or some kind of coded message. We're going to need a language expert to decipher this."

  But then something happened. The symbols stopped, describing a series of perfect rectangles, and a small red light lit up right in the center of the artifact. A second later, a high-pitched beep, very similar to the sound of an electric shock, broke the silence.

  Everyone in the room exchanged tense glances. Only Connor felt a chill run down his spine, a primal instinct screaming at him that something was deeply wrong. But no one could do anything when a blinding flash of light filled the room, and most saw their world reduced to blackness, and an eternal sense of doubt.

  ?BOOOOOOOM!

  From outside the building, the roar was devastating. The subway explosion felt as if the earth itself had exhaled in fury. The shock wave resonated through the adjacent streets, shattering windows, twisting streetlights, and raising a dense cloud of dust and smoke that covered the entire area. The building's central pillars collapsed immediately, and the entire structure collapsed in on itself, with a roar that resounded like barely suppressed thunder.

  The few members of the assault team who were outside were thrown from the impact. Some rolled to the ground, others barely managed to cover themselves, all dazed and with their ears ringing from temporary hearing loss. One of them, the unluckiest, didn't even react when a huge section of wall collapsed and struck him squarely in the head, leaving him unconscious on the cobblestones.

  The ensuing tremor rippled through much of the neighborhood. Residents, startled by the shock and the sound of the explosion, began pouring out of their homes with panicked and curious faces. Screams, cries, and the sound of doors opening echoed in the darkness, while dust rose to cover the moon.

  Soon, the scene turned into absolute chaos: civilians trying to get closer, and the few Imperial soldiers shouting orders and struggling to hold the perimeter, unable to explain what had happened.

  Unfortunately, reinforcements wouldn't arrive soon. With most of the night guards stationed in the noble districts, protecting the mansions and temples from the widespread fear, the southern part of the city was left almost unattended. Only a few troops were trying to contain the crowd while the building continued to smoke, its ruins still shuddering under the residual heat of the explosion.

  And amidst that chaos, no one noticed.

  From the heart of the disaster, among the collapsed blocks and the remains of incandescent dust, a figure emerged silently. Dressed entirely in black, with a charred cloak and a leather mask covering his face, the individual staggered forward, yet determined.

  In his arms, he carried a body. One that, despite the smoke and darkness, seemed inert… although his dangling hand showed slight spasms, as if still struggling to cling to life.

  The mysterious man stopped at nothing. His steps were firm and his breathing controlled. He moved through the shadows, precisely avoiding the cones of light from the lamps and the groups of soldiers who were beginning to reorganize. In a matter of seconds and with great speed, he disappeared into the alleys of the south, heading directly towards the city walls.

  By the time reinforcements arrived and the search of the building's ruins began, the dust had already begun to settle... and of the supposed "Book of Silence," the Oculus members, and the assault team, absolutely nothing remained.