“You must be Master Henry Richard. It’s an honor to meet you,” Michael stood up and greeted.

  “The pleasure is mine,” Henry replied with a small nod.

  He placed his right hand over his chest and gave a slight bow. It was an old-fashioned gesture of courtesy.

  Michael stole a quick glance at the man. One of his best friends, Matthew Reid, had recommended Henry after hearing about Aaron’s case. According to Matthew, Henry was the most respected ‘sorcerer’ in all of NYC, perhaps even the whole state. He had performed numerous successful exorcisms and banished many malicious spirits, one of them, supposedly, had been tormenting the sister-in-law of Matthew’s cousin’s father-in-law’s neighbor’s best friend for years.

  Helen, on the other hand, never believed in such hocus pocus. When the boys, Paul, Wilson, and Kevin, told her what had happened that night, she dismissed all talk about the spirit board and fixed Wilson with a glare that made him freeze. She blamed the entire incident on the bottle of liquor he had brought with him.

  But Michael had had a few minor run-ins with the supernatural world before, so after hearing the kids’ story, he decided it was worth giving Henry a chance. He had reached out to the sorcerer, hoping he could somehow help their son.

  “Sorry for making you wait. My wife would’ve had a harsh reaction to any mention of ... magic, so I had to find a way to get her out first,” Michael explained.

  “No need to apologize. I understand. I’ve seen this kind of situation more times than I can count,” Henry said, waving it off.

  “Thank you, but please be careful not to feed him or give him any strange substance. That might make his condition worse,” Michael warned.

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” Henry replied, letting out a soft chuckle. “Those kinds of tricks are for frauds and charlatans. At my level, a master-rank mage, I don’t even need to touch the boy to assess his condition.”

  He raised his staff and prepared to begin. Just then, a loud voice pierced the air:

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing?!”

  Helen stormed into the room, her eyes blazing with fury. “Michael Attenborough! I knew you were hiding something from me! I can’t believe you’d let a scammer play tricks on you like this!”

  Her face was filled with anger, disbelief, and bitter disappointment.

  “Babe, we’re just trying something different. It won’t do any harm. Henry won’t even touch Aaron. Can we just give him a chance? What if it does work?” Michael pleaded.

  Helen ignored him and turned to the security team.

  “Get him out of here. Right now!”

  The hulking guards looked at one another. They were unsure of what to do. Michael let out a tired sigh and gestured for them to escort Henry out. He knew his wife’s temper; there was no way this would end well if she stayed.

  Michael gave Henry a subtle nod. He decided to make it up to him later and arrange another time.

  Henry still kept a calm smile on his face despite the awkward moment. Just as the guards approached him, he tilted his staff forward and spoke:

  “Héstēthi.”

  The orange gem atop the staff lit up and sent a soft glow that swept across the room.

  Everyone froze in place. Their limbs wouldn’t respond. The guards’ eyes went wide with panic, while Michael and Helen’s expressions flickered with a glimmer of hope.

  Ten seconds later, Henry released the spell:

  “Lyysis.”

  Then everyone could move again.

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  He said nothing and just stood there with a gentle smile.

  “Sir, please … forgive my rude attitude,” Helen whispered, her voice shaking. “I beg you, please help our son.”

  “It’s all right. I understand how you feel,” Henry replied.

  He had long since grown accustomed to the skepticism of ordinary people in an age that had stopped believing in the unseen.

  “To be honest, I only specialize in dealing with dark creatures, curses, spirits, that sort of thing. If your son is suffering from some rare disease, then I may not be the one to help. In that case, you might have better luck with a druid or a naturekin,” he said.

  “Please, just take a look. Whatever the outcome is, we’ll still pay you everything we promised,” Michael said, his tone now much more sincere than before.

  “Very well then. Let’s begin,” said Henry.

  He raised his staff and drew a circle in the air above Aaron’s body. A soft orange light pulsed from the gem embedded at the top, casting a faint radiance down over the boy.

  "His soul isn't here. This is a quite common case of soul displacement. Could you tell me what happened, please?"

  “Of course. It all began on the night of his birthday, which also happened to be on this Halloween …”

  Michael began to recount the events as the boys had told him. Henry nodded as he listened.

  “This must be what caused the boy’s soul to go missing. This year, the Day of the Departed coincided with a blood moon, which is an extremely rare occurrence. During such a time, the boundary between the living and the dead becomes blurred, and it’s also when creatures of darkness become the most active.”

  “I see. I should’ve forbidden any of those stupid ghost games in the house,” Helen said, gripping her hands so tight that her nails pressed into her palms.

  “Well, to be honest, using a Ouija board on the Day of the Departed isn’t that unusual, either among ordinary people or in supernatural communities,” Henry explained. “These kids were just unlucky. Out of the countless groups playing that night, they happened to draw the attention of a demon,” Henry said. “But don’t worry too much. His body is still alive, and that means his soul must still exist somewhere. It’s just trapped, or hidden, for now.”

  The couple exchanged glances of hope.

  “The first thing we need to do is determine where Aaron’s soul is right now,” Henry said, adopting a more serious tone. “It’s only been five days, so I suspect the demon is still keeping the boy’s soul nearby, maybe somewhere in the city, or at most within the state. It is uncommon for demons to stray too far from their own territory.”

  “Is there anything you need to locate his soul?” Michael chimed in.

  “That part’s simple because his body is still here with us. The connection between a person’s soul and their physical form is one of the strongest and most enduring bonds in the cosmos,” Henry answered. “If you could bring me one of Aaron’s hairs, that should be enough.”

  Michael retrieved a small pair of scissors, snipped a strand of his son’s hair, and handed it to the mage with great care.

  Henry held it between his thumb and index finger, then raised it to eye level. After that, he began to chant a lengthy incantation in a language no one in the room could recognize.

  Under the watchful gazes of everyone present, the strand of hair began to burn, smoke curling up from it in a soft spiral. It gathered into a thin stream of gray mist, which soon coalesced into the shape of an arrow, floating upright in the air.

  “Psycheanichneuo!” Henry commanded.

  The arrow trembled, then began spinning in all random directions, causing a deep crease to form on Henry’s brow.

  “Hm? It’s not close by?” he muttered. “This soul-tracing spell has a range of up to eighty miles. That should cover all of New York City and more than half the state. Which means ... the demon either has a way to conceal Aaron’s soul from detection spells, or it took the boy's soul far beyond the range.”

  “Does moving it that far cause any harm to him? What should we do now?” Michael asked.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t affect him much. Let me see,” Henry replied.

  He hesitated a little bit, then reached inside the folds of his cloak and pulled out a small vial, no bigger than two fingers side by side. It contained a silver liquid that gave off a faint shimmer of light.

  He let out a quiet sigh.

  This job is going to be a break-even at best, maybe even a loss.

  But Henry’s work ethic had always outweighed personal cost. It was that very principle that had earned him such respect across both the mortal and supernatural worlds.

  He dipped a fingertip into the silver liquid and used it to draw around his left eye. Despite having no mirror or tool to guide him, he sketched a flawless hexagon, each side and angle in perfect measure.

  “I’m going to cast a spell called Argent Gleam. It's a simplified version of the Eye of Omniscience,” Henry explained. “Hopefully, it’ll let us catch a glimpse of where Aaron’s soul is being kept, or at least give us some useful information.”

  He closed his right eye and opened the left wide.

  “Argyrophthalmos,” he murmured.

  The hexagon began rotating in a counterclockwise direction. A silver glow filled the left eye, giving Henry a strange, ethereal presence.

  He turned to gaze at Aaron’s body. Now Henry can see many strands of silver thread, each one connecting the boy to a different person, place, and object in his life. Among them were two thicker threads, pulsing with a steady glow, leading to Michael and Helen.

  But the brightest thread was the one that extended from Aaron’s left chest. That was the link between his soul and his physical form. And that thread didn’t end in the room. It disappeared into thin air, leading off into some unknown distant place.

  Henry focused his mind, following the thread with his will, unaware that it was leading him toward one of the most dangerous places in the cosmos.