“That is to say that each corpus stands in three things. The names

  of these three things are sulphur, mercury, and salt.”

  He opened his eyes.

  He hadn’t been aware that he’d ever closed them.

  He closed them again because they hurt, and he couldn’t see anything.

  His body was on fire.

  No.

  It just felt that way.

  Felt like every cell was alight.

  Like he was going to spit out a fireball at any point.

  Why?

  He felt something in his body.

  Something that didn’t belong.

  In fact, his entire body felt foreign at this moment.

  Maybe he was the foreigner.

  Was this even his body?

  He tried to move his fingers.

  No response.

  Toes.

  Likewise.

  Was he even breathing?

  Yes.

  It seemed so anyway.

  But still, he couldn’t control the pace.

  Allowing himself to focus, he noticed it wasn’t the breath he was familiar with.

  It was a desperate, trying breath.

  What was going on?

  He remembered…

  Silver.

  No.

  No, it wasn’t silver.

  It was something else.

  Something… it was impossible to explain something like that, but it was certainly the last thing he had seen before waking up here.

  What a mystery, he thought to himself. Oh, my finger twitched!

  He hadn’t just been thinking idly but trying his best to manipulate his body into moving.

  It wasn’t exactly breakneck speed, but he was getting somewhere at least.

  Silver.

  He was able to flex his hand.

  No, something else.

  His breathing was becoming steadier.

  Molten silver.

  He sat up weakly.

  But without heat.

  He unsuccessfully tried to lift his body.

  This was a beyond bizarre experience for him.

  As a Lycan, his body was like a machine under his control, down to the minutest of functions. For him to just suddenly be unable to use it was completely unexpected and also terrifying. A Lycan’s body was their weapon and pride, more so than the other races of this realm. To be unable to use that gift…

  Still feeling his way through, he tried again and vaulted to his feet unsteadily like some newly born hooved beast. Still, it was better than not even being able to breathe properly. His sight also seemed to be returning.

  His eyes opened to reveal an endless stretch of white sand as far as even his far-searching eyes could see.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Come to think of it, other than the agonising burning sensation within his members, the weather was unbearably hot now. How was he just noticing?

  He felt that he was forgetting something, and something essential.

  He tried racking his muddled-up brain for some sort of definite answer or memory, but it was to no avail. He couldn’t nail anything down. There were flashes, though. His mind moved through random bits and pieces, not recognising their significance at all.

  Father.

  The thought of his dad suddenly shot through his mind and filled him with some measure of sadness. He was at a loss for why that would be, but it was poignant.

  The last thing he had seen was his dad.

  With that weird metal water.

  Now he was here.

  Where was here?

  His guess was as good as any.

  Did his dad send him here?

  Why would he do that?

  Elijah was bewildered but knew that idleness wouldn’t solve anything.

  He looked into the undifferentiated scenes of sand before him and cursed his lack of a sense of direction: why would a Lycan not be able to tell where they are intrinsically?

  He decided to just pick a direction and go with it. After all, as a Lycan, he didn’t need to worry about heat stroke or dehydration for quite a while. He’d keep his eye out for any green; it was the best place to find water and, with it, life.

  Onward and upward.

  In the castle that was the Chukwdifu manor, the young mistress of the house tended to her daily affairs in a clearly distracted manner. After all, the quill in her hand had remained above the parchment for minutes now and dried up as a result.

  Just what was she thinking about at this time?

  Suddenly, a gust blew into her office and sent the many documents flying about. Before they could be scattered about, though, a wave of her hand dragged them back to the desk and glued them there.

  “That level isn’t bad at all, young mistress.”

  The room formerly inhabited only by the mistress and her wandering thoughts was all of a sudden occupied also by this tall middle-aged man who directed praise at her.

  “Nothing that you would find impressive, Honoured Son.”

  “Even this generation knows of something like that?” he asked with some amusement before asking for permission to sit down.

  She granted it easily and asked him if he wanted something to drink.

  “No,” he said with a grateful smile, “we osu are forbidden to eat with the freeborn.”

  “You’re also not supposed to break into our homes.”

  “You’re right about that, young mistress.”

  Despite his acknowledgement, he made no indication of leaving. In fact, he sat so comfortably on the sofa across that he seemed the owner or even part of the furniture itself.

  Chaina was apparently unbothered by this and decided to keep at her work. A few hours passed in this fashion until she dropped the quill and looked at him dead in the eye.

  “Is there something you want? Assassins usually work with time, don’t they?”

  He chuckled slightly but didn’t deny her words.

  Instead, he looked around the room, then levelled his silver eyes at her once more.

  “What are your intentions with my son?”

  “Isn’t it an easy matter to ask him that yourself?”

  “I would, but I doubt he knows; I doubt he knows what a creature like you wants with him.”

  “Parents that hover are no longer in fashion, just so you know, old man.”

  “True, true, but still… I haven’t ever had God’s Eye struggle so much to read someone (with few exceptions). I mean, we’ve been here for hours, and you’ve still barely given me anything.”

  “You know what I am at least?”

  “I can guess. What a powerful covenant, too.”

  Chaina didn’t acknowledge the compliment and instead wrote a few more things on the parchment before looking up again.

  “I can’t call upon its power on such short notice.”

  A small sound of disappointment left the Fae’s mouth, but he still seemed quite chipper.

  “Was it worth it?”

  “No.”

  There was silence again.

  Suddenly, he got up and walked towards the window; it was clear he wanted to leave.

  “Not going to do anything?”

  “Not for now. Although I’m still curious as to w—"

  “Because we’re the same!”

  Chaina felt the penetrating gaze of those silver eyes fall on her again, forcing her into a defensive state once more. This had been going on for hours.

  “You think so?”

  “I know so,” was her confident reply. Despite knowing the situation she was in. She never backed down in matters like that.

  “Take care, heiress of the Chukwudifu clan.”

  Chaina woke up a few hours later, unsure when unconsciousness had taken her.

  “What a powerful monster,” she said, thinking of her first encounter with the one some called the Honoured Son.

  She was far more annoyed than concerned about her near brush with death—her falling asleep suddenly meant that she had drooled over the work on her desk, and there was even ink on her cheek now.

  Her thoughts went to the Lycan boy who had pulled her into the crosshairs of this vicious man, but her face betrayed nothing.

  Idiot!

  Idiot! Elijah said to himself.

  He said this as he trudged through the sands with increased lethargy.

  His plan hadn’t been going quite as well as he had dared hope it would when he set out.

  It had been hours.

  He wasn’t sure how many, but the hours had passed without any commensurate progress. What was worse still was that the sun seemed to have no intention of setting. As a matter of fact, it hadn’t moved across the dome of the sky even by an inch since he started his journey. It was still high above his head in the position of noon.

  Ordinarily, intense weather wouldn’t mean anything to him, but this place was different. He felt his vitality being drained slowly by these unrelenting rays of the sun. His desire to find a water source became increasingly intensified, and he decided to abandon the conservative approach of steady steps. Taking up a runner’s posture, he set his sight ahead of him and decided he’d try for a burst of speed.

  Like a javelin from an athlete’s palm, he set off, raising a trail of sand and dust behind him and even crushing some of the fine crystal beneath his feet with the power he generated. This was the power of these creatures known as Lycans. It was no mystery that they were seen as monsters by the other races of the realm.

  Unfortunately, his charge was delayed by the most unexpected of circumstances.

  He tripped.