Hiro felt someone shaking his shoulder.

  He slowly opened his sleepy eyes.

  Rosalin was standing in front of him.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said. “We’re here.”

  Hiro rubbed his eyes and looked out the window.

  The carriage was just entering a long stone bridge. Beyond it rose enormous walls, and farther behind them stood a majestic castle towering over the city.

  A few moments later the carriages passed through the gates.

  The citizens greeted them ceremoniously. Fireworks burst into the sky, colorful flashes tearing through the morning air. White doves circled above the square.

  As the carriage approached the castle walls, Hiro grew noticeably nervous.

  He glanced out the window and spoke quietly.

  “Listen… I probably won’t be very welcome here. I’ll just teleport into that alley over there and then figure out how to sneak into the palace myself.”

  He was already about to stand up.

  But suddenly a hand grabbed his thigh sharply, nails digging in.

  “Sit,” Rosalin said firmly.

  Hiro noticed how tightly her hand was gripping him. Her gaze was serious and focused — she was clearly nervous, perhaps even more than he was.

  So he silently sat back down, realizing that his presence was calming for her.

  The carriages stopped at the palace entrance.

  Rosalin stepped out onto the red carpet. Her dress fluttered in the wind — white with golden lines. There was no mistaking the princess in her.

  She walked forward.

  Hiro, trying not to draw attention, slightly adjusted his posture and followed behind her like one of the escorting guards, keeping a small distance.

  The massive double doors slowly opened.

  Rosalin entered the hall.

  Ahead, seated upon a high throne, was the king — Orien de Lacour.

  Beside him stood a man in formal attire who loudly announced:

  “Princess of Arcanum — Rosalin de Lacour has arrived!”

  Rosalin walked to the center of the hall. The doors closed behind her.

  She gave a barely noticeable signal to one of the guards.

  And in the next moment, he suddenly pushed Hiro forward.

  Hiro sighed quietly and stepped up beside her.

  Rosalin bowed slightly in a curtsy.

  “I am glad to see you in good health, Father.”

  Hiro stood still.

  Rosalin glanced sideways at him.

  From the crowd someone whispered:

  “Bow…”

  Hiro heard it.

  “Oh,” he said calmly. “My apologies. I don’t bow to anyone.”

  A wave of gasps swept through the hall.

  The man beside the king was about to speak, but the king raised his hand, stopping him.

  Then Orien laughed.

  “Not everyone is capable of saying something like that. Especially directly in front of a king.”

  He studied Hiro carefully.

  “Well then, young man… you must either have nerves of steel. Or know your own worth.”

  A faint smile appeared on his face.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not a dictator. I’m just a man like the rest of you. So I won’t punish you for that.”

  The king rose from his throne.

  “Rosalin, my daughter. There will be a council meeting in two hours. I ask that you attend.”

  “Yes, Father,” she nodded.

  After that she turned to the right and headed toward the door.

  Hiro walked with her.

  Once they entered the corridor, Rosalin stopped, turned to Hiro, and suddenly burst out laughing.

  “Well, I definitely didn’t expect that from you. Seriously. But you’re lucky my father… I mean, our king… isn’t like most rulers.”

  She sighed and adjusted a strand of hair.

  “Anyway. I’ll have to go to the council soon. I’ll arrange for you to have a room in the palace. For now, you can explore the city.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  She smiled.

  “Our city is huge. It’s especially famous for its performances and fairs. There’s the Babylon Theater near the center. They use magic in their shows, so it’s always crowded.”

  She pointed somewhere toward the window.

  “But make sure you’re back at the palace by evening.”

  Then she stepped closer… and unexpectedly kissed him on the cheek.

  “See you.”

  Turning around, she quickly ran down the corridor.

  Hiro remained standing there with wide eyes.

  “When did our relationship get this close…” he murmured.

  After a while he did as she suggested and left the palace.

  The city was truly alive.

  The streets were full of people. Multi-story buildings rose everywhere. The smell of fresh bread drifted through the air.

  Turning his head, Hiro spotted a blacksmith’s forge. The smith hammered glowing metal, sparks flying. At that moment an apprentice ran up and accidentally spilled water.

  “Hey!” the blacksmith shouted.

  A little farther away an old couple sat on a bench, calmly cracking sunflower seeds and chatting. Nearby a boy and a girl ran past with a balloon.

  Life was buzzing everywhere.

  Hiro stepped into a bar.

  “One Morning in the Forest,” he said.

  The bartender nodded knowingly.

  The drink was also called the Forester’s Cocktail. Carbonated and refreshing. Inside floated small pine twigs with needles. Honey, pure water, and sea buckthorn were added as well.

  The taste was unusual: forest notes mixed with a faint tropical flavor.

  Taking the glass and a straw, Hiro stepped back outside and continued walking.

  After some time, a huge building appeared before him.

  Fountains roared on both sides of the square. Street lamps stood nearby, ticket booths lined the entrance, and large posters read:

  “Every Thursday! The Magnificent Vivienne and her assistant Tyapkin! The Grand Show!”

  Apparently this was the theater.

  Hiro glanced at the poster, took a sip of his drink, and decided to take a look inside.

  Hiro entered the theater and took a seat in one of the rows.

  The seats sloped downward toward a wide stage. Above them rose balconies — elite boxes where richly dressed guests were already sitting.

  Soon the lights began to dim.

  The hall sank into darkness.

  A violet mist slowly filled the stage.

  From it came a voice. Female, soft, with a slight echo — as if telling an ancient legend.

  “Tonight we will tell you a story… not about a king and three hundred goblin warriors… not about a thousand and one days in the deserts of the continent Skalaris… and not about a terrible princess and a beautiful troll. Tonight’s story is quite different…”

  Images began appearing within the mist. They were formed of flame — fiery silhouettes slowly transforming into one another.

  The audience was drawn into the spectacle.

  The voice continued:

  “Our story… is about a little boy gifted with immense power… but hiding in the night.”

  A swamp and forest appeared in the mist.

  “His mother was a beautiful forest witch who lured an adventurer into her swamp. But instead of death, the adventurer discovered many wonders there.”

  Flames formed a man and a woman.

  “From their union a boy was born… with truly unique pink eyes. They glowed… like fireflies in the night.”

  Hiro sat silently.

  This reminds me of someone… he thought.

  The fiery images grew more detailed.

  “Their life was beautiful… until one day…”

  The scene changed abruptly.

  Red light. Flames. A burning village.

  Cries, clashing steel, the crying of a child.

  “The village was attacked. The adventurer did not survive… and the witch, broken by grief, began to take out her pain on her son… wounding him.”

  A fiery image showed a hut where a woman stood over a child with her hand raised, while he lay on the floor with a frightened face.

  “But one day… the boy wandered into the cursed part of the swamp.”

  A dark spirit appeared in the mist — like a horned creature made of smoke, playing a black flute.

  “There he met a spirit. A dark spirit playing the flute. Its music attracted every beast… and they drowned in the swamp trying to reach it.”

  Animals sank into the mire.

  “The spirit made a pact with the boy… and entered his body.”

  The boy’s fiery silhouette changed.

  “His eyes became a terrifyingly pure shade of pink… and a dreadful smile spread across his face… stretching to his ears…”

  The hall listened in absolute silence.

  At that moment Hiro noticed a man among the spectators. Not young. A long scar ran across his entire left cheek.

  The performance continued.

  “The boy gained the demonic power of the spirit. And when his mother — the witch — tried to strike him again…”

  The fiery boy smiled that same smile.

  “…that very smile appeared on his face.”

  The image flared.

  “And after that… only the witch’s head remained.”

  A short pause.

  “That was the first act of the being we call… the God of the Void.”

  Whispers erupted across the hall.

  “The God of the Void?!”

  “Is that really his story?”

  “So he’s a demon!? I knew it!”

  “Quiet! Don’t say his name!”

  Hiro sat calmly.

  Well… I didn’t expect anything else, he thought.

  Though the story isn’t bad… even if it’s false.

  The mist faded.

  On stage stood a girl in a purple hood and cloak. Beside her was a guy with dark circles under his eyes, playing a music box.

  The girl coughed.

  “Ahem… Since that day, the God of the Void walks the forests, frightening anyone who crosses his path.”

  The music box played a quiet, ominous tune.

  “Travelers describe him as a boy with a demonic smile… and bottomless pink eyes. He kills monsters… and eats their raw flesh.”

  From the crowd someone muttered:

  “How horrible…”

  The girl raised her hand.

  “So know this, people of Arcanum… if you see at night near the forest… or in a field… or anywhere… two pink lights…”

  She paused.

  “…those are not fireflies.”

  The music suddenly stopped.

  “That… is the God of the Void.”

  The hall gasped.

  At that moment Hiro thought:

  I’ll play along.

  He waved his hand slightly.

  In the same instant thunder roared.

  The building shook.

  “AAAH!”

  “It’s him!!”

  “Run!!”

  People jumped from their seats in panic and rushed for the exit. The hall emptied almost instantly.

  The girl and the boy on stage quickly disappeared backstage.

  Within a minute the theater was nearly empty.

  Hiro calmly stood up.

  And slowly walked toward the exit.

  A little later…

  Rosalin entered a large office.

  Behind a massive desk sat Orien de Lacour. Several men stood nearby — advisors and high officials. The atmosphere was heavy.

  “We must do something.”

  “This is clearly a conspiracy. We can’t ignore it any longer.”

  “Your Majesty, the people expect orders. We don’t know how much longer we can hide the truth.”

  Orien sat with his eyes closed, letting out a heavy sigh.

  When Rosalin entered, the voices fell silent.

  “Father,” she said.

  The king opened his eyes.

  “My dear… forgive me for getting straight to business. We didn’t even properly welcome your return… or congratulate you on passing the exam. And you didn’t introduce me to that Hiro who came with you.”

  He paused.

  “I… I’m sorry. I really am trying…”

  “It’s alright, Father,” Rosalin said calmly. “I understand. Tell me what this is about.”

  The king nodded.

  “Very well.”

  He rose and walked to the large window overlooking the city.

  “These are difficult times for all of Arcanum.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Doubts have begun spreading in the palace. The army has become harder to control… more suspicious. They’ve even stopped delivering my favorite honey from the Scarlet Valley…”

  He gave a quiet chuckle.

  “Ahem… well, that’s not the most important thing… ha… ha…”

  But the laugh sounded strained.

  He sighed again.

  “Propagandists have begun appearing more and more often…”

  For a moment Orien fell silent, as if realizing he had said too much.

  He shook his head slightly and continued in a different tone.

  “Always stay alert, my daughter. Be vigilant even… in your own room. I’m no longer sure there are any safe places left.”

  He turned to her.

  “Because… high-ranking officials have started being murdered.”

  Rosalin’s eyes widened.

  “What?!”

  Orien slowly looked toward the wall.

  Three portraits hung there.

  “Three have already been sent to the other side.”

  His voice remained calm, but heavy.

  “We know for certain these were murders. But who stands behind them… we still don’t know.”

  He looked back at Rosalin.

  “And… if you trust Hiro, stay close to him. Don’t leave his side. If he can protect you…”

  Orien paused briefly.

  “…then I believe in him.”

  Rosalin nodded silently.

  Her gaze rose again to the portraits on the wall.