Nikolai’s dreams were dark, filled with furry monsters with big teeth and an overpowering sense of doom. Unfortunately, reality wasn’t much different when he woke—Vitzer’s grumpy face was the first thing he saw.

  He yelped in panic and rolled off the side of the bed, thumping hard onto the floor. Scrambling backward across the boards, he finally came up against a wall and stared up at an amused-looking Vitzer.

  “Good, you’re up. Time for work, boy!” Vitzer said gruffly, hopping down from the bed with surprising agility. He moved with a lithe ease that seemed out of place for someone who looked so ancient.

  Nikolai scowled. “Stay the fuck away, okay? I’m not going to—” His words died in his throat as Vitzer spun with a low growl, one finger raised and wrapped in writhing shadows.

  “Watch your mouth, human! Now, come along—we’ve been waiting!”

  Vitzer left the room, the door left ajar behind him. Once alone, Nikolai finally calmed enough to look around. The room was small but comfortable: a soft bed, a large wardrobe against one wall, and a writing desk beneath a round window where golden sunlight spilled in.

  He scowled. This place had no right feeling this peaceful, considering the madness from yesterday. Experimenting on him? Yeah, that sounded sketchy as hell.

  Then again… what if it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime things? What if this was his moment—his chance to become what he’d always imagined in the games? Honestly, he was already screwed, so maybe…

  He shook his head and muttered, “Fine. I’ll hear them out. Then I’ll decide.”

  Standing, he stretched. He actually felt good. He must’ve passed out the day before, but now he was strangely calm. The fear was still there, just quieter—manageable. Waking up safe in a bed seemed to have steadied him.

  Did he feel safe? Hell no. But at least he felt in control. Rational.

  “Alright, fuck it,” he said under his breath. “Let’s go hear them out.”

  He thought of Moulin’s magic—the Soothe spell—and grimaced. Yeah, he’d be keeping his distance from her. She was at least as terrifying as Vitzer, and that one was clearly missing a few screws.

  Leaving the room, he found himself in the same hallway as yesterday, which meant he knew the way to the dining room.

  The smell hit him first—warm, enticing, buttery. He could smell sugar and a hint of tea as well. His stomach growled.

  Moulin and Vitzer sat at the table when he entered. Vitzer frowned, but Moulin greeted him with a sharp-toothed smile. “Good, you’re up. Sit down and eat.”

  Nikolai hesitated, then pulled out a chair and sat, keeping a wary eye on both. “Right… thanks,” he said cautiously.

  Moulin smiled. “Dear me, you gave us quite the scare, passing out like that. Didn’t he, dear?”

  Vitzer scoffed. “Had to carry your sorry carcass to bed.”

  Moulin didn’t even glance at him. The wooden spoon she flicked his way hit him square between the eyes. Vitzer yelped, and Nikolai couldn’t hold back a short laugh.

  “What the bloody hell are you doi—” Vitzer started, but Moulin cut him off sharply.

  “Language!”

  Vitzer froze mid-sentence, then snapped his mouth shut. Nikolai smirked at him, remembering the old rat’s earlier admonitions.

  Vitzer’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but with Moulin there, Nikolai felt relatively safe. The pastries, meanwhile, were divine—pure bliss on a plate.

  The only sounds were cutlery and quiet chewing until, finally, Nikolai cleared his throat. “Alright. What exactly do you want to do to me?”

  He’d tried to find a diplomatic way to ask, but in the end, directness won out.

  Moulin spoke before Vitzer could. “An experiment, dear—one to give you a dual affinity.”

  Vitzer looked like he wanted to interrupt but stayed silent, letting her explain.

  “You see,” Moulin said, “as we mentioned, all living beings have affinities. But you, dear, are a blank slate. This house is heavily warded—built to allow only pure magic inside. It ensures our work isn’t affected by outside forces, and it’s why you appeared here unharmed.”

  Nikolai nodded slowly. “Right… affinities. I think I follow. But what do you want from me—and what will it do to me?”

  She raised one finger. “First, we wish to test a theory we’ve worked on for years—that opposite affinities can coexist within a single vessel. You, dear, are that vessel. Second… we’re not entirely sure what it will do, though we have good guesses.”

  “Please,” Nikolai said dryly. “Guess.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Vitzer cleared his throat, and Moulin let him take over. “Most likely, your body will accept one affinity and reject the other. You’ll end up with either light or shadow—the ones we intend to use. Ideally, we’ll create a balance that allows both.”

  His tone was oddly professional—almost like a teacher—and it threw Nikolai off. “That doesn’t sound too bad,” he said.

  Vitzer grinned darkly. “Of course, it could also become volatile—create a war inside you. You might explode spectacularly.”

  Nikolai froze, teacup halfway to his mouth. Vitzer chuckled. “Don’t worry—the odds are low.”

  “How low?” Nikolai asked flatly.

  The grin faltered. Vitzer twirled a few whiskers thoughtfully. “One in ten. Maybe one in fifteen.”

  Nikolai nodded, took a moment to think, then asked, “Final question. If I survive—and gain one or both affinities—you’ll teach me how to use it?”

  Moulin nodded immediately. Vitzer opened his mouth to protest but wilted under her glare. “Fine,” he muttered. “Yes. We’ll teach you.”

  Nikolai exhaled slowly. He’d made his decision, but hesitation still gnawed at him. This could change everything. “Don’t be a wimp,” he muttered to himself. “I need this.”

  He looked between the two Gravlings and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Moulin asked carefully. “As in… you want to do it?”

  There was concern in her tone, but ambition gleamed beneath it. She would go through with this regardless of the risk.

  Nikolai stood, mind made up—or perhaps abandoned altogether. Rationality wasn’t helping. Instinct would have to do. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s do it. Preferably before I lose my nerve.”

  “One thing before we proceed,” Moulin said, crossing to a counter. She retrieved a small clear orb and placed it before him.

  “Put your hand on it, dear.”

  Nikolai eyed it warily. It looked like glass—or crystal, impossibly clear. “What is it?”

  “An affinity orb,” Moulin said. “It determines a person’s innate affinity. This will confirm whether you truly have none.”

  He shrugged and placed his hand on it. It was warm, and a faint tingling ran through his skin, but nothing else happened. After a few minutes, Moulin’s grin spread wide.

  “Remarkable! That confirms it, husband—we can proceed!” she said, practically glowing with excitement.

  Both Gravlings stood and led him deeper into the house. They followed the hall all the way to its end, where the walls opened into a series of chambers carved into the cliffside.

  Nikolai gaped at the network of caves—spacious, expertly chiseled, and eerily pristine. Eventually, they reached a small circular chamber of bare stone. The floor was smooth as marble, a complex circle etched into its center. It reminded him of every devil-summoning scene he’d ever seen in movies.

  Naturally, he was to sit in the middle. Vitzer and Moulin took their own positions to either side. Vitzer spent some time carving new lines into the rock, muttering as he worked.

  Nikolai sat cross-legged on the cold floor, shirt discarded. Moulin painted runes across his skin with black and white paint.

  His breathing was shallow; nerves gnawed at him. What the hell am I doing? He had to be insane to agree to this.

  When he glanced at Moulin, her eyes were sharp and intent—not on him exactly, but on what was about to happen. Vitzer looked much the same.

  Nikolai inhaled deeply. His emotions cycled from fear to excitement and back again. I’m going to have magic, he told himself.

  For a long moment, nothing happened. Then goosebumps prickled his skin as tingling spread across his body.

  The sensation was strange—foreign yet somehow familiar. It crawled over his skin, then beneath it. He fought the urge to flinch or scratch, forcing himself still.

  Soon, the energy invaded deeper, pain building in his muscles and joints. Then warmth replaced it—then pain again, stronger this time.

  Time lost meaning. Pain and peace crashed over him in waves, each more violent than the last.

  Instinctively, he reached inward, probing the foreign energies. It was like trying to flex a muscle he’d never used before. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to nudge a rushing current inside him. Elation surged—he could move it.

  He focused harder. One energy felt destructive, tearing him apart to make room for itself. The other was gentler, suffusing what was already there. When the two clashed, agony ripped through him.

  He needed to stop the war inside him. He imagined balance—yin and yang, circling, intertwined, equal.

  It didn’t work. Pain exploded through him. Blood poured from his nose and mouth.

  “I can’t do this,” he thought, despair flooding him. “Why am I—?”

  The pain spiked. His mind began to fade. “Am I going to die like this?”

  Then something inside him snapped—not his body, but his resolve. No. Fuck that. I’m not dying here.

  Why? Why keep fighting through this pain? The answer came, raw and simple: Power.

  A voice from memory echoed—dark and theatrical: Unlimited power! He almost laughed.

  He wasn’t a Sith Lord, but he wanted control. Freedom. The strength to decide his own fate. “I want power,” he whispered inside his own mind. “I want strength—to live my own life. To become who I always dreamed of being.”

  Ambition blazed within him. He tried again. Failed. Blood now leaked from his eyes and ears.

  Rage flared—at this world, at the Gravlings, at himself. This power is mine. It’s inside me. It belongs to me!

  Once more, the energies collided—and this time, he forced them to yield. He sensed imbalance; shadow outweighed light. Carefully, he let in more light until they evened out.

  Slowly, the chaos stilled. The two forces twined together, flowing instead of clashing. They strengthened each other.

  The pain ebbed. The wounds hurt, but the energy inside him was his. It obeyed.

  A wild grin spread across his face as he opened his eyes. The chamber was transformed—the darkness gone, replaced by vivid clarity. Every crack in the stone gleamed in sharp relief.

  He tried to rise but nearly collapsed. Moulin caught him as his legs gave out. His whole body trembled, drained to the core.

  Yet beneath the exhaustion, power throbbed inside him—a second heartbeat pulsing with alien rhythm. It was intoxicating.

  He laughed weakly. “I did it,” he murmured. “I bloody did it.”

  Then the world tilted. His vision blurred. Moulin’s voice called his name as everything went black.. Again.