I look to Two, eyes wide, heart pounding. But he's already released me, striding ahead without pause. I hurry to keep up as he stops before a large, weathered wooden door. I'm about to speak, to demand answers, but he lifts a finger to his lips, signaling silence.

  "We're here," he murmurs.

  That bastard... does he think I'm his dog? That I'll kill at his command, without question? After he refused to help me?

  Brother or no, I'd sooner slip my knife into his own heart....

  Two pushes the door open and steps through.

  The room beyond is a stark contrast to the madness of the caverns. It's still dark and cold, but meticulously clean, stone walls lined with tightly packed bookshelves, an alchemical station arranged with near obsessive precision beside a wide, neatly made bed. The air smells of burnt incense and bitter herbs.

  But I barely register the surroundings. My eyes snap to the center of the room.

  "Don't touch me you maggot-ridden cur!"

  Luna stands there, silver rod clenched in one hand, her shortsword drawn in the other. She faces Maldor, who stands with arms crossed, his hood casting his features in shadow. Her glare is one of undisguised fury and pure disgust.

  Spiders skitter along the walls and ceiling, converging silently behind her. Luna eyes them warily, but keeps the rod pointed at Maldor.

  "Get those disgusting things away from me."

  Maldor says nothing, unmoved. His silence only deepens her fury.

  Two doesn’t interfere. He watches, arms folded, waiting.

  Fuck, what’s she doing now?

  I step forward, and feel immediate tension as the two shift their attention to me. "Luna? What is it? What's happening?"

  Luna throws a brief glance my way, then refocuses on Maldor, her glare unwavering. "Is it not clear? This blaspheming wretch is offering men to the dark. Sacrificing them... and he has the gall to ask for my help."

  Maldor responds without emotion, his tone as calm as still water. "You were commanded to assist me by Edric. Your talents are well suited to the work at hand. There is no discord. My research shall serve the warband's interests greatly."

  Luna's voice drops to a growl. "I'd sooner draw a blade from my throat to my cunt than aid in your abominable research."

  Two leans slightly toward me, voice low with amusement. "I like her. You've chosen well."

  Two steps forward and speaks, louder and to the rest of the room this time. "There’s a simple remedy to this impasse. My younger brother, Seven, will take the lady’s place."

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  Maldor's hooded head snaps toward him, then swivels to me. His posture shifts slightly, tense with surprise.

  Two grips my arm and pulls me forward. "He seeks to learn the arcane and I trust he will prove a capable assistant."

  Luna's eyes flick between us, uncertainty cracking through her fury.

  Maldor approaches slowly, his robes flowing over the stone. He raises a gloved hand, extending it toward my face... but does not touch. His fingers trace the air just before my skin, moving downward in a slow arc, never bridging the final inches. I feel the pressure of his attention more keenly than if he’d struck me.

  At last, he speaks, voice soft and cold. "Show me your hands."

  I hesitate, then extend them, palms up, heart thudding in my chest.

  Dammit, everyone's finding out....

  Maldor nods to himself, then turns to Two. "Why?"

  Two gives a loose shrug. "To aid my brother in reaching his potential. And you are the only sorcerer at hand."

  He says casually, before his voice turns firm. "Accept him. You'll have my favor in exchange."

  Maldor remains still for a moment, cloaked in silence. Then he inclines his head in a small nod.

  He turns his hooded gaze toward Luna. "Leave us. Return to whatever pitiful company you crawled in with, if your stomach is too soft for truth."

  Luna’s hand tightens around her weapon. For a moment I think she might attack anyway.... but after a long, slow breath through her nose, she exhales with disgust, sheathes both rod and blade, and storms out.

  The door slams shut loudly behind her.

  Two nods, satisfied. "Then I shall take my leave too," he says, placing a firm hand on my shoulder and leaning in for a final whisper. "Return to me once your work with Maldor has ended for the day."

  With that, he turns and strides through the door, leaving me alone with the hooded figure.

  Dammit... did he really have to leave me with this monster? And the damned spiders?

  I make no attempt to move, keeping a wary eye on both Maldor and his spiders.

  The silence stretches... long, uncomfortable.

  Maldor stands still as stone, his gaze fixed on me from beneath that shadowed hood.

  At last, his voice emerges, quiet and raspy "Show me magic."

  Uncertain, I hesitate.

  How much should I show? I could be revealing a weapon I might need for later....

  ...No, I better be careful.

  Cautiously, I raise my scarred hand. A soft flicker of fire curls to life in the palm, licking at the air.

  "I discovered it recently," I say. "When I tend the fire at camp, I can light it with ease, sparks shower from a single strike of flint. And sometimes... the things I touch ignite."

  He nods once, as if unsurprised. "You've chanced upon a magic scroll."

  I nod in return. "Yes."

  "What remains of it?"

  "Nothing," I reply. "I used it entirely."

  He gives another solemn nod, as if that, too, was expected.

  He crosses his arms, voice steady. "I see. An awakening, brought on by overexposure to the arcane. Not uncommon, as such things go."

  I furrow my brow. "Awakening? What do you mean?"

  He inclines his head, slightly. "Those born with the gift rarely show signs at birth. The seed lies dormant, oft until stirred by some external force. Exposure to objects of power, wands, relics, wards... these can rouse it. A scroll, is also suitable."

  He steps closer, face still shadowed beneath his hood. "But awakening is naught but the beginning. Sorcery is no art of passion or impulse. It is a discipline. A science. The study of the laws that govern this world and others besides. An understanding of the cosmos."

  He turns from me, pacing past the alchemical table. "This is what you will learn under me... along with a mastery over yourself. Of your own spirit, your own mana."

  Then, facing me once more, he lifts a hand in quiet emphasis. "Provided that you prove yourself capable and assist me diligently."

  …Another potential teacher.

  But for all Lucien's arrogance, I've never seen him do anything like what I've seen in this man's laboratory.

  Then again... he did have me deliver his own severed head to a demon. Maybe Maldor would be preferable. At least he's open with his... practices.

  I hesitate, then offer a nod. "I understand."

  He steeples his fingers, gaze lingering on me with a measure of approval. "Excellent," he murmurs. "Then let us begin our labors."