The morning after Hekate's departure brought Inspector Caldwell to my door with the grim determination of a tax collector on quarter day. As promised, his team had returned at dawn with a replacement device—bulkier than the first, with additional brass appendages that clicked and whirred ominously.

  "A more comprehensive scan will be necessary," he announced without preamble. "Last night's... interference... suggests active countermeasures."

  I maintained my most tediously noble expression—polite disinterest masking mild irritation. "I'm afraid my cousin departed before first light. Family emergency in the eastern provinces. Most unfortunate timing."

  Caldwell's eyes narrowed. "Without informing the inspection team? Despite explicit instructions to remain on premises?"

  "She left a note conveying her apologies." I gestured vaguely toward the main hall. "Feel free to read it yourself. Though I should mention that hindering the travel of a gentlewoman on urgent family matters would require more substantial documentation than your current authorization."

  A transparent bluff, but delivered with the casual confidence of someone who believed court connections would shield them from consequences. Nobility's greatest weapon has always been the appearance of untouchability, even when we're as vulnerable as anyone.

  "Lord Greywers," Caldwell's voice dropped to a carefully measured tone, "the Phoenix Collective has reason to believe you've been exposed to a controlled substance with significant transformation potential. For your own safety—"

  "My safety is adequately managed through my existing coverage," I interrupted, producing my Royal Corps documentation. "As you can see, my field treatment was properly administered and recorded. If the Phoenix Collective wishes to submit a formal request for transfer of care, they're welcome to initiate the appropriate paperwork with my current provider."

  Bureaucracy—the shield and sword of modern governance. I'd never appreciated its value until I needed to hide behind its cumbersome processes.

  Caldwell accepted the documents with poorly concealed frustration. His eyes scanned the forms, lingering on the notation about "standard field treatment for penetrating injury with possible alchemical contamination."

  "This lists the Royal Corps as your primary provider, yet Dr. Creswell detected trace signatures inconsistent with their standard methodologies," he said, handing the papers back. "And your injury appears remarkably well-healed for conventional treatment."

  I shrugged, carefully casual. "The Corps has been surprisingly efficient lately. Budget reforms, I believe."

  His laugh was short and utterly humorless. "The Royal Corps hasn't improved their efficiency since the last king's coronation. But I see we're at an impasse."

  "So it would seem."

  He signaled to his team, who began packing their equipment with the efficiency of men accustomed to failure. "We'll require another inspection in thirty days to monitor for delayed effects. Standard protocol for potential contamination cases."

  "I look forward to it," I lied. "Though I'm due at court within the week, so you may need to coordinate with the royal stewards."

  That final reminder of my imminent court appearance—however minor my standing there—was enough to secure their departure. Caldwell left with a stiff bow and the promise of future scrutiny that felt more like a threat.

  Willem watched from the gatehouse as their horses disappeared down the road. "They'll be back with proper warrants next time," he observed, joining me in the courtyard. "The Phoenix doesn't retreat, they regroup."

  "By which time we'll hopefully have a better strategy than 'my cousin had an emergency,'" I agreed.

  "Speaking of your 'cousin'..." Willem's weathered face creased with concern. "She did something to that scholar, didn't she? Something not entirely medical."

  I considered denying it, then abandoned the thought. Willem had seen too much to be fooled by convenient lies. "She redistributed pain. Apparently it's part of her particular... methodology."

  Willem grunted. "Useful trick. Painful lesson."

  We stood in silence for a moment, watching clouds gather on the horizon.

  "The court summons," he finally said. "Four days remaining. Your mother has been arranging appropriate attire."

  The mention of court reminded me of the real pressures waiting beyond my immediate healing concerns. The royal summons wasn't merely an administrative formality—it represented my family's increasingly precarious position within the kingdom's hierarchy. Failure to appear with appropriate dignity would only accelerate our decline.

  "I should be able to travel," I said, touching my chest where the blue patterns had been. "The treatments seem to have stabilized my condition."

  "And the... side effects? The strange awareness you mentioned?"

  Since Hekate's transference, the overwhelming sensitivity had indeed diminished to manageable levels. I still sensed the currents beneath the keep, but as background awareness rather than constant distraction. Occasionally, I'd notice flares of activity—like ripples in a pond—but they no longer commanded my full attention.

  "Improved," I told him. "Though I suspect this is merely the beginning of whatever I've stumbled into."

  I wasn't wrong.

  ***

  That evening, as I was reviewing maps of the capital to refresh my memory of its layout, my study door opened to admit Administrator Thorne. He appeared exactly as he had in his office—meticulously dressed in outdated formal wear, monocle gleaming, thin frame radiating bureaucratic precision.

  The fact that he'd entered my private keep without anyone alerting me to his arrival should have been alarming. Instead, I merely set aside my maps with a sigh of resignation.

  "I don't recall scheduling a follow-up appointment," I said.

  "Contingency protocols operate on need rather than convenience, Lord Greywers." Thorne removed a ledger from his leather satchel and placed it precisely in the center of my desk. "The Sisters have completed your initial treatment cycle with remarkable success. However, certain developments necessitate contractual adjustments."

  I eyed the ledger warily. "What kind of adjustments?"

  "Your unique response to treatment, combined with external interest in your condition, has elevated your risk profile considerably." He removed a fountain pen from an inner pocket and placed it alongside the ledger. "The Twilight Covenant must modify our arrangement to accommodate these new variables."

  "You mean the Phoenix Collective's visit."

  "Among other factors." Thorne adjusted his monocle. "Sister Morgana calculates an eighty-seven percent probability of continued monitoring by conventional healing houses. Your bloodline markers have attracted precisely the attention we hoped to avoid."

  That caught my interest. "You knew this might happen?"

  "We anticipated a possibility. The probability was initially calculated at thirty-four percent." His thin lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Your particular ancestry proved more... resonant... than our models predicted."

  I leaned back in my chair, studying him. "Let's dispense with the circumlocution, Administrator. What exactly does the Twilight Covenant want from me?"

  Thorne opened the ledger, revealing a document dense with legal terminology and alchemically active ink that shifted subtly as I watched.

  "The Covenant proposes an expansion of services under the 'Unexpected Risk Protocol' clause in your original contract," he explained. "Specifically, the assignment of specialist practitioners to provide ongoing monitoring and intervention as needed."

  I skimmed the document, legal phrases jumping out: "preemptive consultation services," "mobile healing deployment," "risk mitigation specialists," and most intriguingly, "conditional practitioner attachment."

  "You want to assign the Sisters to me," I translated. "As what, exactly? Personal healers? Bodyguards?"

  "Preventative specialists," Thorne corrected. "From the Covenant's perspective, you represent a significant investment of resources and specialized treatment. It is in our financial interest to ensure that investment continues to function optimally."

  I couldn't help but laugh. "So I'm an asset now, not a patient?"

  "The distinction is largely semantic. All patients represent potential return on investment." He tapped the document with one bony finger. "In practical terms, this arrangement allows the Sisters to monitor your condition while providing legitimate cover for their activities in regions they might otherwise have difficulty accessing."

  "My noble status as a shield for their unregistered practices," I said, understanding dawning. "And in return?"

  "You receive ongoing care beyond your premium level, including preemptive intervention should your condition reactivate. Plus certain... supplementary benefits as your native abilities develop."

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  I raised an eyebrow. "What abilities?"

  "Those consistent with your bloodline heritage." Thorne's expression remained impassive. "The blue patterns merely accelerated processes that would have eventually manifested naturally, albeit in less dramatic fashion."

  This aligned with what Hekate had told me—that my family had once "walked paths between worlds," whatever that meant. But the casual way Thorne referenced abilities I didn't yet understand suggested the Covenant knew far more about my heritage than I did.

  "And if I decline this expanded arrangement?"

  "Then we continue as previously agreed, providing treatment as needed on an individual basis." Thorne adjusted his monocle again. "Though I should note Sister Morgana calculates only a twenty-three percent probability of your survival beyond six months without specialized monitoring, given current interest in your condition."

  Put that way, it wasn't much of a choice. I reached for the pen, then hesitated. "I want to speak with my mother first."

  Thorne inclined his head slightly. "A reasonable request. I shall return in one hour." He rose with mechanical precision. "Family advice is valuable, particularly when the family in question has such... interesting history."

  After he departed—through the door this time, thankfully—I sent Willem to find my mother. She arrived shortly thereafter, already dressed for dinner in one of her few remaining fine gowns, carefully maintained to conceal its age.

  "Administrator Thorne is here?" She glanced around as though expecting him to materialize from the woodwork.

  "He stepped out to give us privacy." I handed her the contract. "He's proposing an expanded arrangement with the Twilight Covenant. Apparently, I'm now interesting enough to warrant specialized attention."

  Mother skimmed the document with surprising speed, her eyes lingering on specific clauses that she seemed to understand better than I did. For a woman who had expressed such initial disapproval of the Covenant, she showed remarkable familiarity with their terminology.

  "The timing is inconvenient," she said finally, setting the contract aside. "But perhaps inevitable."

  "You're not surprised," I observed.

  "Our family has always attracted attention, Magius. We've simply been more successful at avoiding it in recent generations." She touched the emerald signet ring she wore—the last truly valuable possession our family retained. "Your father hoped to delay this particular inheritance."

  "What inheritance? The blue patterns? The strange awareness of currents beneath the keep?"

  She sighed, suddenly looking every year of her age. "Our family once had capabilities beyond the ordinary. Gifts that made us valuable to some, dangerous to others. Your father's line was particularly strong in this regard."

  "And you knew this all along."

  "I knew enough to recognize the signs when you returned from your encounter with the raiders." She met my gaze directly. "Why do you think I was so opposed to the Twilight Covenant initially? Not because I feared their methods, but because I knew they would recognize what was awakening in you."

  I struggled to process this revelation. "You could have warned me."

  "To what end? To make you fear your own nature before it had even manifested?" She shook her head. "Your father and I agreed to let you establish yourself without the burden of that knowledge. We hoped the abilities might skip your generation entirely."

  "What exactly are these abilities?" I pressed. "Hekate mentioned walking paths. Circe spoke of old blood. Administrator Thorne references my 'bloodline heritage' as though it's common knowledge."

  "They're called different things in different ages." Mother's fingers absently traced patterns on the desk that matched the blue lines that had adorned my chest. "Pathfinders. Current-Walkers. Ley Guides. In essence, those who can perceive and ultimately manipulate the energy currents that flow beneath the earth."

  "And this is valuable because...?"

  "Because those currents are the source of all magical energy, including healing magic." Her expression hardened. "And because the commercial mana wells are running dry after generations of exploitation. The great healing houses have depleted natural reserves faster than they can replenish."

  This echoed what Hekate had told me—that companies like the Phoenix Collective were facing resource shortages. "So they're looking for alternatives."

  "They're looking for people like you," she corrected. "Those who can locate new sources or access existing ones that conventional methods can't reach."

  I gestured toward the contract. "And the Twilight Covenant? What do they want with me?"

  "Something similar but less exploitative, I suspect." She pushed the document back toward me. "They follow older traditions that worked with natural energy flows rather than depleting them. Their interest is in preservation as much as utilization."

  "You're suggesting I sign."

  "I'm suggesting you've already been drawn into a conflict you can't avoid." Her voice softened slightly. "The contract at least provides some protection and guidance as you navigate unfamiliar territory."

  I studied her face, searching for any hint of deception or hidden agenda. Finding none, I nodded slowly. "I'll consider it."

  She rose to leave, then paused at the door. "Magius... your father once told me that the old paths choose their walkers, not the other way around. Whatever happens, remember that this awakening is reclaiming something that always belonged to you—not imposing something foreign."

  With those cryptic words, she left me to my decision.

  ***

  When Administrator Thorne returned precisely one hour later, I had questions waiting.

  "Before I sign anything," I said as he settled into the chair across from me, "I want to understand exactly what this arrangement entails. In practical terms, not legal abstractions."

  Thorne nodded, seemingly pleased by my directness. "The Sisters would accompany you as needed, operating under the guise of personal healers, advisors, or distant relations depending on the circumstance. They would monitor your condition, assist in developing your emerging abilities, and protect you from those who might seek to exploit your talents."

  "And in return?"

  "Your noble status and official position provide them legitimacy and access. Your family name opens doors that would otherwise remain closed to practitioners of their particular methodologies." He adjusted his monocle. "Additionally, your developing connection to the energy currents enhances their individual abilities when working in proximity to you—a symbiotic relationship that benefits both parties."

  That last part was new information. "I enhance their abilities?"

  "Indeed. Sister Morgana's probability manipulation becomes more precise, Sister Circe's transformations more stable, and Sister Hekate's transferences more efficient. Your bloodline serves as a natural conduit and amplifier for certain types of magic—particularly those aligned with the old traditions."

  I considered this. "And my duties as Knight-Protector? I can't simply abandon my responsibilities."

  "No need. In fact, your position provides ideal cover for our arrangement." Thorne's thin smile returned. "Border patrol, village protection, escort duties—all perfectly reasonable activities that might require healing services on short notice."

  "And the court summons?"

  "An excellent opportunity to establish the arrangement. The Sisters could accompany you as part of your retinue—a perfectly legitimate precaution given your recent injury."

  It was all so neat, so carefully considered. I couldn't shake the suspicion that this had been the plan all along—that my encounter with the blue serum had merely accelerated a recruitment process already in motion.

  "How long have you been watching my family?" I asked bluntly.

  Thorne didn't bother denying it. "Magistra Helena Vale has monitored potential bloodline reactivations for decades. The Greywers have been of particular interest due to historical connections to certain key convergence points."

  "Including the one beneath my keep."

  "Precisely." He folded his hands precisely on the ledger. "Your ancestors didn't choose that location by chance, Lord Greywers. They built where the paths converged—where their abilities would be naturally enhanced."

  I thought of my nighttime wanderings through the keep, the strange attraction I'd felt toward certain unremarkable spots in the foundation. The currents I could now sense flowing beneath us like underground rivers.

  "And if I sign this contract," I said, "what's to prevent the Twilight Covenant from exploiting me just as readily as the Phoenix Collective might?"

  "Self-interest," Thorne replied without hesitation. "We require willing participation to access the benefits of your bloodline. Coercion would be counterproductive. The Phoenix, by contrast, would happily dissect you for partial access rather than risk losing you entirely."

  Not the most comforting assurance, but pragmatic enough to ring true.

  I picked up the pen, weighing it in my hand. Part of me still resisted—the part that had spent a lifetime believing I was simply a minor nobleman with a fading title and dwindling prospects. But another part resonated with everything I'd learned—as though pieces of a puzzle I hadn't known existed were finally falling into place.

  "I have conditions," I said finally.

  Thorne raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

  "Full disclosure about my bloodline heritage—no more cryptic references or partial truths. I want to understand exactly what I'm capable of."

  "Acceptable, within reasonable limits. Some knowledge must be experiential rather than instructional."

  "The Sisters operate under my nominal authority when in my territory. If we're establishing a cover story, it needs to be believable."

  Thorne's mouth twitched. "They will appear to comply with sufficient conviction to satisfy observers."

  "And finally," I added, "I want a meeting with Magistra Helena Vale. If she's been studying my family for generations, I have questions only she can answer."

  This gave him pause. "That may prove... challenging. Magistra Vale limits her direct interactions carefully."

  "It's non-negotiable," I insisted. "I'm not signing my life away to someone who won't even look me in the eye."

  After a moment of consideration, Thorne nodded. "I believe an arrangement can be made, contingent upon certain security protocols."

  With those assurances—worth whatever trust I could place in a man who had appeared uninvited in my study—I signed the contract. The ink shimmered as it accepted my signature, lines of text briefly glowing with the same blue light that had marked my chest.

  "Excellent," Thorne said, closing the ledger with a satisfaction that seemed almost human. "The Sisters will arrive tomorrow to accompany you to court. I suggest you inform your household of their impending presence—as personal healers retained due to your recent injury, perhaps."

  "And my mother?"

  "Lady Vivienne already understands more than she has shared with you." He rose to leave, tucking the ledger into his satchel. "Family secrets are rarely as secret as one generation believes them to be."

  "One last question," I said as he reached the door. "Why now? If my bloodline has always had this potential, why is it activating at this particular moment?"

  Thorne paused, his back to me. "Systems seek balance, Lord Greywers. As conventional mana sources deplete, the old pathways reassert themselves. Nature abhors a vacuum—magical energy perhaps more so."

  He glanced back over his shoulder. "Or to put it in terms Sister Morgana might use: the probability of awakening increases proportionally to the system's need for alternative solutions."

  With that oblique explanation, he departed, leaving me alone with the unsettling certainty that I had just formalized my entanglement with forces I still barely understood.

  Outside my window, the sun was setting over the western fields. For a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw the land itself glowing with faint blue lines—a vast network of interconnected pathways stretching to the horizon and beyond.

  Tomorrow I would travel to court with three unconventional "nuns" as my official healing entourage. The nobility would whisper, the Phoenix Collective would watch, and somewhere beneath it all, currents of power would continue to flow along channels older than the kingdom itself.

  I had signed away more than just parchment and ink. I had acknowledged a heritage I didn't fully understand—and committed to whatever consequences that acknowledgment might bring.