As I slide into the car, I immediately notice Mattie’s posture—rigid, tense. Before I can say a word, she spins around to Zefpyre in the back seat.

  “Do you think the Master Wizard and I could have a moment, please?” she asks, her tone sharp but polite.

  Zefpyre’s feline eyes narrow as he looks between the two of us. “Fine,” he mutters, hopping out of the car and making his way back toward the building with a swish of his tail.

  The moment the door closes behind him, Mattie reaches out and turns off my audiobook. My hand instinctively twitches toward the controls, but her voice stops me.

  “Mattie,” I say, my tone low and warning, “mind your rank.”

  “Fuck rank for the moment, Julius.”

  That hits me like a lightning bolt. Mattie has never called me by my first name—not once in the five years I’ve been training her. The sound of it from her lips makes me freeze. Before I can muster a response, she barrels forward, her words tumbling out with an intensity I’ve never seen from her.

  “You stepped over the line with Pendragon in there, and you did it in front of the entire Order.”

  “I—” I try to interject, but she steamrolls me, her voice rising with righteous fury.

  “You might be stronger magically, but he’s still the Grand Chancellor. Most of the people in that room have little to no connection to the Other Realm. For them, it’s basically a fantasy, and they don’t understand what’s going on between the two of you. Hell, most of them don’t even know your family history.”

  I open my mouth to defend myself, but she doesn’t let me get a word in. “This little power play you’ve got going with him? Fine—behind closed doors, around the other Banished, or even around people from the Other Realm. We get it. We ignore it. Fuck, we expect it. But they don’t. All they see is you attacking their leader—a leader they respect more than anything. A leader they love.”

  Her words are like punches, one after another, leaving me reeling.

  “People are already terrified of you, Julius,” she continues, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “This doesn’t make things better. And now, with a case that has a legitimate connection to The Grand Sorcerer himself, you’re here taking shots at the only Pendragon still on Earth—a direct descendant of King Arthur.”

  “A many-great descendant,” I mutter weakly, trying to regain some footing.

  “Cut the shit, Julius,” Mattie snaps, and this time, her words cut so deeply I feel the sting in my chest. “I expect better from you. Please, don’t disappoint me.”

  And just like that, she turns my audiobook back on, the soothing voice of the narrator doing nothing to ease the weight in the air. Before I can even begin to form an apology, Zefpyre is somehow already back in the car, his sharp gaze flicking between the two of us.

  The ride to the next victim's home begins in silence, but the tension hangs heavy in the air. For the first time in years, I feel like a student being lectured by my teacher. And the worst part? She’s absolutely right.

  As the sun begins to crest the horizon, casting warm hues over the quiet streets of West Rogers Park, we pull up to Simon Devour’s house. It’s an old Chicago bungalow, a style more common in other parts of the city, and its presence here feels oddly out of place. Already, tech teams from the Order are on-site, their vans parked haphazardly along the curb. The faint hum of their magical instruments adds an air of anticipation to the still morning.

  I step out of the car, stretching slightly before barking, “OY! Has anyone been inside?”

  A young tech—barely out of his apprenticeship, by the look of him—steps forward, his voice shaking slightly. “No, sir. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Perfect,” I say, taking a long draw on my cigar. “Mattie!” I call out, my voice cutting through the morning air like a whip. She’s already halfway out of the car. “You’re running point on this one. Go inside, check the house, and come back out to tell us what we’re doing next.”

  Her face lights up with excitement, and before I can say anything else, she darts inside, practically bouncing with eagerness.

  Zefpyre hops out of the car and trots over, his tail swishing lazily. “Are you sure this is wise?” he asks, his tone a blend of skepticism and exasperation.

  “Yeah, I already scoped the house with my magical senses,” I reply, waving off his concerns. “There’s nothing crazy in there. She’ll be fine.”

  Zef gives me a judgmental look, but thankfully keeps his furry mouth shut. Instead, I turn to the tech standing awkwardly by his van. “How long have you all been waiting?” I ask.

  “Not long, sir,” he stammers.

  “Good,” I say, nodding. Then, after a moment of thought, I add, “Sorry about the wait.”

  The tech’s shock is almost palpable as he stares at me, clearly unsure how to process the apology. I simply pull out another cigar, lighting it with a flick of my thumb, and stroll around the house.

  The backyard is unremarkable. A mundane tree sways gently in the morning breeze, flanked by some overgrown bushes. Lawn furniture sits haphazardly near a faded firepit, the kind of setup you’d expect to see at a mundane summer barbecue. I scan the area again with my magical senses, but there’s still nothing out of the ordinary.

  Satisfied, I head back to the front of the house, leaning against the car as I wait for Mattie to finish her sweep. The techs watch me nervously, as though expecting me to suddenly conjure a storm out of nowhere. I smirk to myself, letting the stillness of the morning wash over me.

  It’s a rare moment of calm in what’s sure to be a chaotic day.

  Mattie steps outside, her expression professional but faintly puzzled. She scans the scene and addresses the tech team with confidence.

  “We’re at the home of a Spell Singer,” she announces. “There are a dozen or so musical instruments inside, all with low-level enchantments. Go in, document the instruments, and look for any sheet music—especially the magical kind.”

  The tech team nods in unison and moves into formation, efficiently entering the house to begin their work. I watch with quiet approval, taking a long drag from my cigar as Mattie walks over to me, still looking confused.

  “It’s the most normal house I’ve ever seen from a Practitioner,” she says, frowning. “I even scanned for dimensional magic, thinking there might be something hidden, but I couldn’t find a thing.”

  I exhale a plume of smoke, letting it curl lazily in the cold morning air. “That’s because there’s nothing left to find, Kid.”

  Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

  I gesture for her to follow me as I head toward the backyard. “Come on. Time for a magic lesson.”

  Mattie’s curiosity wins out as she follows, her gaze darting around as though she might have missed something. We reach the backyard, and I stop near the unassuming tree, leaning against it casually as I take another puff of my cigar.

  “Alright, Kid,” I start. “Tell me what you notice about this place.”

  She frowns, glancing back toward the house. “It’s clean. Too clean. Like… the kind of clean you don’t expect from someone who’s actively working with magic.”

  I nod, impressed by her observation. “Good. Now think about what that means.”

  Her eyes narrow as she processes. “You’re saying someone came in and scrubbed it.”

  “Bingo,” I say, pointing at her with my cigar. “Someone didn’t just scrub this place—they scrubbed it hard. No Practitioner leaves a workspace this sterile unless they’re hiding something. And whoever did this? They knew enough to hide most of their tracks from amateurs. But there’s one thing they can’t hide.”

  Her eyes light up with understanding. “The marks they left behind for someone like you.”

  “Exactly,” I say with a smirk. “A Master Wizard doesn’t just sense magic, Mattie. We sense where it used to be. Every spell leaves a footprint, even if it’s wiped clean. The traces are faint, but they’re there.”

  She looks back toward the house, her brow furrowing. “So… what’s next?”

  “Next, we go in, and I show you what they missed,” I say, pushing off the tree. “Let’s see how sloppy they really were.”

  Her grin is eager as she follows me back toward the house. The tech team parts to let us pass, their instruments humming softly as they meticulously document the scene.

  “Kid,” I say as we step inside, “if someone went through this much trouble to hide something, it means they were scared. And scared people make mistakes.”

  “Then let’s find them,” she replies, her voice steady and determined.

  “That’s the spirit,” I say with a grin, ready to dig into the mysteries the house was still holding.

  We step inside, and I gesture for Mattie to follow closely as I survey the house. “Tell me, Kid,” I say, taking a slow draw from my cigar, “what do you think makes a house like this seem so normal, even though it belonged to a Practitioner?”

  She hesitates, glancing around the mundane interior, her brows furrowing as she thinks. “I don’t know… maybe the Practitioner was hiding their power? Trying to blend in?”

  I nod slightly. “Sure, that’s possible. But let’s dig deeper. What does a Spell Singer do?”

  “They enchant people with their words,” she says, tilting her head thoughtfully.

  “Kind of,” I respond, bobbing my head. “They mainly work with enchantments and charms. But here’s the real question—why would they want their house to look so mundane to outsiders?”

  She pauses, then says tentatively, “To make mortals more comfortable?”

  I smile. “Bingo, Kid. But that still leaves something missing. A Practitioner like this wouldn’t just leave everything out in the open. There’d be a hidden space, a private area where they could work on their spellcraft without prying eyes. Now go find it.”

  Mattie perks up, her earlier hesitation vanishing as she sets off through the house. I follow her at a leisurely pace, puffing on my cigar as I observe her process. Down in the basement level, she stops abruptly in front of a grand piano, a stunning piece crafted by Thompson Pianos, a well-regarded Chicago manufacturer.

  She runs her hands over the keys, her expression sharp with focus. “Boss man, there’s something odd about this piano. Every key seems to be enchanted.”

  I take another long drag from my cigar, letting the smoke curl lazily. “What would you do next?”

  “Call Williams,” she says without hesitation.

  I chuckle. “You’re running point, Kid.”

  She pulls out a calling card from her purse, the slight tremor in her hands betraying her nerves. “Hey, Journeyman Lead Crime Scene Investigation and Information Discovery Tech Williams.” I groan at how she addresses him by his full title. She doesn’t notice and continues, “We really need you over here. Okay, thanks.” She ends the call and turns back to me. “He’ll be here in two hours.”

  I nod. “Good. Let’s keep looking around while we wait.”

  As we head back upstairs, one of the techs approaches me, looking nervous. “Umm, Master Wizard,” he starts.

  I gesture for him to speak. “What do you got?”

  “Something odd. Can you follow me, please?”

  “Lead the way,” I say, intrigued.

  He takes us to a small office, where the faint scent of old paper and ink fills the air. Sheet music is neatly organized across a desk, but the tech points to a hidden compartment in the roll-top.

  “I found this secret compartment,” he says, clearly proud. “The spellwork on the drawer was intricate, but I discovered the key fairly easily.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “And what was the key?”

  “You just need to hum Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony,” he says.

  I nod, impressed. “What do you have for me?”

  “Magical sheet music,” he says, pulling out a stack of meticulously preserved parchment. “Dimensional magic, by the looks of it, but it’s out of my scope.”

  I glance at him. “You just passed out of trainee rank, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” he says, standing a little taller.

  I scan his core, feeling the clean, well-made structure of his magic. It’s surprisingly refined for an Earth-born Practitioner. “Got any connections in the Other Realm?” I ask.

  “No, sir. I’m third-generation Practitioner, but my family’s never had any ties to the Other Realm.”

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Brock Chambers,” he says, clearly nervous.

  “Brock,” I repeat, making sure to say his name slowly. “That needs to be changed. You’ve got too much talent for it to go to waste. I’m going to find you a proper Master.”

  His eyes widen in shock. Mattie’s jaw practically hits the floor. Hell, even I’m a little surprised at myself.

  I recover quickly. “Brock, go over the rest of the scene thoroughly. I want a full report from you personally.”

  “Yes, sir!” he says, his grin stretching ear to ear as he turns and heads back to work.

  Mattie sidles up to me, still stunned. “Boss man, are you feeling okay? Did you just... compliment someone? Offer to help them?”

  I shrug, flicking ash from my cigar. “Don’t get used to it, Kid.”

  The house was so clean it felt like walking into a showroom. Everything was perfect—too perfect. It didn’t belong to a practitioner; it belonged to an idea of one. Sterile, mundane, and just a little too neat. Everything but that damn piano.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Williams finally arrived, with Pendragon in tow, his celestial aura lighting up the mundane space like a star at a wake. I gave him a nod. “Williams. Grand Chancellor.”

  The room went so quiet you could hear a thought drop. Gabriel looked stunned, the rest of the room even more so. Apparently, me playing nice was a sign of the end times.

  “Mattie’s running point,” I said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Good learning opportunity.”

  Williams nodded and turned to Mattie, waiting for her to take the lead. She froze for a second, the weight of authority sitting awkwardly on her shoulders. Gabriel broke the silence. “Miss Charlemagne?” His voice carried a gentle nudge.

  Mattie snapped out of it. “Oh, sorry. Uh, Journeyman Williams, we found an odd piano in the basement.” And just like that, she walked off, leaving us to follow.

  Williams gave me a sidelong glance. “Odd how?”

  “Odd as in it’s not just a piano,” I said, taking another drag on my cigar. “You’ll see.”

  We descended into the basement, where the piano sat like a secret, hiding in plain sight. Williams leaned in, his artifacts clicking and humming as he examined it. “Interesting,” he muttered. “This is a dimensional lock. Someone went to serious lengths to cloak it from magical detection.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Can you unlock it?”

  Williams shook his head, looking almost embarrassed. “Not easily. This thing’s a fortress. Eighty-eight keys mean there are nearly half a billion possible sequences of twelve notes. It could take months—years even.”

  Mattie looked at me. “Could you brute-force it with magic?”

  I exhaled slowly, letting the smoke curl up toward the ceiling. “Not elegantly. I know someone in the Other Realm who could do it, but it’d cost more than Gabriel’s wingspan in gold.”

  Pendragon interjected. “The Department will cover it.”

  Before I could respond, Brock spoke up from the corner. “Um, if you don’t mind me saying…”

  I looked at him sharply. “For once, I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

  Mattie stepped in, catching herself just in time to remember her role. “Brock, please share your thoughts. You’ve been incredibly helpful.”

  Brock shifted on his feet, unsure who to address—Williams, Pendragon, Mattie, or me. His eyes darted between us as he spoke. “Well, I think the sheet music we found earlier could be the key.”

  Mattie’s grin lit up the room. “Brock, excellent. Please bring it here, still bagged and handle it with gloves.”

  Brock dashed out like a man on a mission. I turned to Williams. “That kid needs a Master. I’ll see to it.”

  Gabriel snorted. “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with the Julius Holmes I’ve been putting up with all these years?”

  I shrugged. “Look, I hate seeing potential wasted. That kid’s the real deal, and the Order here on Earth doesn’t have the resources to nurture him. He could be what the Order needs a century from now.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Who are you thinking of contacting?”

  “Corrin Cailford.”

  Gabriel’s expression softened. “Let me know if you need help getting his attention.”

  Mattie chimed in, her tone teasing. “Are you two becoming friends?”

  “Mattie,” I said warningly, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips.

  Brock returned, clutching the sheet music like it was a ticket to a better life. He hesitated, unsure who to hand it to, before Williams relieved him of the burden. Williams examined it carefully, his artifacts whirring to life.

  “So,” he said after a moment, “anyone know how to play the piano?”

  Williams's question hangs in the air like a challenge. The room, previously filled with a tense energy, suddenly feels heavier as everyone exchanges glances.

  I pull my cigar from my mouth and exhale a slow stream of smoke, the embers glowing faintly in the dim basement light. “Well, I don’t,” I say flatly, flicking ash into a conjured tray. “And I doubt Pendragon’s heavenly hands have ever graced a piano, what with all the flaming swords and celestial theatrics.”

  Gabriel folds his arms and glares at me. “You’re not wrong, Holmes. But at least I don’t spend my spare time chain-smoking and reading smut novels.”

  I smirk but don’t rise to the bait. “Touché.”

  Mattie, standing beside me, raises her hand hesitantly. “I can play.”

  Williams and Gabriel look surprised, but I already knew. “Kid, don’t look so sheepish. You’ve mentioned it before. Something about being in a school recital.”

  She blushes but nods, taking a step toward the piano. “I mean, I’m not great, but I can manage.”

  “Good enough,” I say, gesturing for her to approach. “You’re running point. Figure it out.”

  Mattie steps closer to the grand piano, her movements slow and deliberate. Brock hurries to her side with the sheet music, still sealed in its evidence bag. He looks at her nervously, holding it out like it might explode. “Do you think this will actually work?”

  “We’re about to find out,” she says with a determined smile, taking the sheet music from him carefully. She lays it on the music stand and studies it for a moment, her brow furrowing. “This is... complex.”

  “Of course it is,” I say, crossing my arms. “Nothing about this case has been straightforward.”

  Mattie ignores me and begins playing the first few notes. The piano emits a soft hum, the sound resonating unnaturally through the room. The air shifts subtly, as though the space itself is holding its breath.

  Williams steps forward, his artifacts glowing faintly. “There’s definitely dimensional magic here. The sheet music is acting as a key.”

  “Keep going, Kid,” I say. “You’re onto something.”

  Mattie continues to play, her fingers stumbling only once or twice before finding their rhythm. The notes grow louder, filling the room with an otherworldly melody. Suddenly, the entire piano begins to glow, the light seeping into the walls and floor.

  Gabriel’s wings flare slightly, a reflexive response to the surge of magic. “Something’s happening.”

  “Brilliant deduction, Pendragon,” I say dryly, taking a step back as the glow intensifies.

  With a final chord, the light bursts outward, illuminating the entire basement in a dazzling display of color. The walls shimmer and dissolve, revealing a hidden doorway carved with intricate runes. The air buzzes with raw energy, and even I have to admit—it’s impressive.

  Mattie turns to us, her face flushed but triumphant. “I think I found it.”

  Gabriel steps closer to examine the runes. “This is advanced work. Whoever built this wasn’t just hiding—they were protecting something.”

  “Or keeping something out,” I say, my voice low.

  Williams adjusts his artifacts, his expression grim. “We’ll need to be careful. Dimensional locks like this often come with traps.”

  Mattie looks at me expectantly. “What’s the plan, Boss Man?”

  I grin, tapping my cigar against the edge of the tray. “The plan, Kid, is simple: you lead. Open that door.”

  The door creaked open, and before anyone could step inside, a grand orchestra burst to life, the music swelling in a piece I didn’t recognize. The sound was hauntingly beautiful, each note filling the air with a sense of both awe and unease. One by one, we crossed the threshold, the melody swirling around us, alive and deliberate.

  Inside, it was a musician’s fever dream. Floating musical notes hovered everywhere, each charmed to perform various tasks. Some moved in intricate patterns, their motions creating a continuous symphony that danced through the room. Instruments of every shape and size filled the space, their craftsmanship ranging from mundane to exquisite. I recognized some—violins, cellos, flutes—but others were foreign to me, likely creations from the Other Realm. Each was enchanted, humming faintly with latent magic.

  The piano, as grand and enigmatic as before, dominated the center of the room. Its enchantments were leagues above the others. The rest of the instruments were solid work, the kind you’d expect from a skilled Journeyman or perhaps even an Enlightened rank Practitioner. But the sheer quantity of magic at play, even in the smaller enchantments, was staggering.

  We fanned out, each of us taking in the scene in our own way. For Earth, this place was astonishing—no, it was more than that. Even by Other Realm standards, this was impressive. The level of precision, the balance of power, and the sheer artistry on display made my head spin.

  I let out a long whistle, then barked, “Somebody go get the cat! We need his eyes on this.”

  Zefpyre, as annoying as he was, had a knack for noticing things the rest of us couldn’t. This room was practically begging for his sarcastic insights. Mattie, already half-lost in the magic notes drifting by her head, snapped back to reality and darted for the door.

  As I stood there, taking it all in, the music shifted. It wasn’t just ambiance anymore—it was something deeper, something purposeful. The melody seemed to tug at my mind, whispering secrets I couldn’t quite grasp. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t just a haven for a Spell Singer’s craft. It was something more.

  "You summoned me, O Master Wizard," Zefpyre said, his tone dripping with mock formality as he padded into the room. His amber eyes glinted in the ethereal light, taking in the floating notes and enchanted instruments with a practiced gaze.

  "What do you think about this?" I asked.

  Zefpyre took a long moment to survey the space before replying with a simple, "Impressive."

  "And what do you know about Simon Devour?"

  The question made his ears twitch. "That’s a more interesting inquiry. The answer? Not much. Honestly, I had to look up his lineage. He’s a legacy practitioner—father’s a Succubus from the Realm of Hedonism, and mother’s a Vampire."

  I scratched my beard, the detail digging at me. "What would that make Simon?"

  Zefpyre’s eyes narrowed, his tail lashing. "One sick bastard, most likely. But I’m no Demonologist. I can’t tell you what kind of demon is born from a Succubus and a Vampire. What I can tell you is that he’d crave pleasure more than would be healthy—far more."

  "Would he have the resources for something like this?" I gestured at the dimensional splendor surrounding us.

  "Depends on his father’s standing in Hedonism," Zefpyre said. "If the Succubus was powerful enough, then yes, this kind of grandeur wouldn’t be out of reach."

  Suddenly, Zefpyre froze, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. Without another word, he darted off, moving faster than I’d ever seen. Swearing under my breath, I followed, quickening my pace far more than I liked.

  At the far end of the pocket dimension, a faint red glow pulsed in a secluded chamber. Zefpyre hissed, his flames flaring instinctively. I stepped into the archway and froze. My blood ran cold.

  "Mattie, do not come back here!" I barked, my voice sharp as a blade. The urgency stopped her in her tracks, wide-eyed and confused. "Zefpyre, this area needs to be quarantined immediately. Only Journeyman rank or higher personnel allowed."

  Gabriel arrived, his wings brushing against the entryway as he approached. "We don’t have enough Journeymen to secure a quarantine," he said, his voice strained as he tried to peer past me.

  "Then you need to call them in from the Other Realms. No exceptions," I said, planting myself firmly in the archway.

  Gabriel’s expression darkened. "What’s going on, Holmes?"

  Behind him, Mattie looked like she was ready to protest, her curiosity bubbling over. I blocked the view further, leaning into the weight of the moment. Slowly, deliberately, I said, "Soul Gems."

  The air seemed to leave the room in a collective gasp. Gabriel’s eyes widened, and Mattie looked lost, her lips parting as though trying to form words but failing. She didn’t yet fully grasp the gravity, but Gabriel did.

  "Mattie," Gabriel said firmly, his tone softer but brooking no argument, "I’m sorry, but Holmes needs to take the lead on this."

  I turned to Zefpyre. "Can I trust you to keep this area secure until reinforcements arrive to quarantine it?"

  In response, Zefpyre shifted, his feline form dissolving into a towering inferno. The Fire Elemental’s roar of heat and light was all the assurance I needed.

  Without another word, Gabriel, Mattie, and I exited the pocket dimension. The weight of what we’d seen hung over us like a storm cloud, ready to break.

  As we stepped out into the hall, Brock came barreling toward us, his face pale and drenched in sweat. He was out of breath, barely managing to get the words out. "They… found… more… bodies…" He bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. "Just like… the ones… from yesterday morning."

  I didn’t even blink. "Souls ripped out?"

  He nodded, still struggling to catch his breath. "Yes."

  Gabriel’s wings twitched in irritation. "How many?"

  Brock swallowed hard. "Not sure… at least twenty."

  My jaw tightened as the weight of that number settled over us. "What the fuck—twenty?" I snarled. I turned to Brock, pointing toward the room we’d just vacated. "Clear this room. Do not let anyone in. No one."

  Brock didn’t hesitate. He spun on his heel and started barking orders. As soon as the room was emptied, I flicked my hand, sealing it with a spell that only Master-ranked practitioners or higher could breach. The air shimmered faintly as the barrier took hold, muffling all sound and cloaking us from prying eyes.

  It was just the three of us now. I turned to Gabriel, the frustration in my voice barely restrained. "There are at least a few hundred soul gems in that room. Add the three bodies from yesterday, and now twenty more? This isn’t just a case anymore. It’s a fucking killing spree."

  Mattie’s voice broke the tense silence. "What… what are soul gems?" Her tone was a mix of curiosity and dread.

  I locked eyes with Gabriel. "I’ll let you explain," I said, a rare concession that I hoped would drive the point home.

  Gabriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Mattie," he began, his voice heavy, "you’re not supposed to know about this at your rank. But since we’re in the thick of it…" He hesitated, then continued. "Soul gems are the result of a vile magical process. A practitioner captures a soul and crystallizes it into a gem. These gems are immensely powerful, capable of fueling spells and rituals far beyond the caster’s natural abilities."

  Mattie’s brow furrowed as the horror of it sank in. "How… how are they made?"

  Gabriel’s expression darkened. "I’m no expert," he admitted, "but I know it involves several steps. One of them is alchemical."

  "One of our victims is a potion maker," Mattie said quickly, the pieces starting to align.

  "Maybe they were working together," I mused. "We need to check out the third victim’s house and see these new bodies."

  I turned to Gabriel, but he was already one step ahead. "Don’t worry," he said, raising a hand to stop me. "I’ll make some calls. Reinforcements are on the way."

  "Can you call Celeste?" I asked. "I want her to take a look at the Spell Singer’s pocket dimension. She’s a Master Enchanter and Charm Caster—she might see something we missed."

  Gabriel nodded but smirked as he tapped his calling card. "I guess you don’t want to use your one call on this."

  I glared at him, my jaw clenching. "Fuck you, wing boy."

  That earned me a chuckle—a deep, melodic sound that only made me hate him more. Even his laugh was fucking majestic.

  Mattie and I made our way to the car, but before I could even touch the handle, the air around us shimmered with the unmistakable pulse of teleportation magic. Someone was coming directly from the Other Realm.

  A gust of wind rushed past, and Celeste materialized beside me, her staff shimmering faintly with residual magic. She looked me up and down with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "What trouble did you stir up this time, Julius?"

  I took a deep drag from my cigar and blew the smoke skyward. "Honestly, Celeste? Something super fucked."

  Her eyes narrowed, and her lips moved soundlessly as she mouthed the words, Soul gems.

  "Yep," I said, exhaling sharply. "Several hundred, from my quick count. Zefpyre is guarding them."

  She tilted her head approvingly. "Good. So, you do have some sense."

  Just as she was about to walk away, she paused and turned to me, her expression sharp and no-nonsense. "Julius, she needs to take her trials and become an Intermediate-ranked Wizard. No more waiting."

  I sighed heavily, turning to look at Mattie. She was practically bouncing in place, her grin so wide it threatened to split her face. I shifted my gaze to Williams, who was clearly trying to blend into the background.

  "Williams," I said, my tone conspiratorial, "isn’t it about time you took your trials to become Enlightened? You’ve been ready for years."

  He choked on his breath, clearly unprepared to be dragged into this. "How did I get pulled into this?"

  "You were standing there all smug," I said with a shrug.

  Celeste, unfazed by the banter, cut in. "Don’t get sidetracked, Julius." She crossed her arms. "I would’ve had her take the trials last week, but then you got tangled up with that Ritualist case. And now, here we are. Again."

  "Fine," I said, dragging out the word as I tried to temper my annoyance. "I’ll send her tonight."

  Celeste just nodded, her point made. She turned to Williams and leveled him with a look. "I can’t force you, but he’s surprisingly right about this. You need to rank the fuck up."

  With that, she strode into the house, her robes sweeping dramatically behind her.

  I turned back to Williams. "So… you coming with us, or are you just going to stand there?"

  He sighed, muttering something under his breath as he trudged toward his van. "I’ll follow."

  Mattie and I climbed into the car. I sat silently for a moment, letting the weight of the moment settle before turning to her.

  "We have a lot to talk about," I said, my voice softer than usual. "Let’s hit the next two stops and save the rest for home."

  I could feel her bubbling excitement as she practically squirmed in her seat. "You really think I’m ready?"

  I gave her a sideways glance, letting a small smile escape. "You’ve been ready for a while now. I just… can we talk about it tonight?"

  She nodded, her smile somehow growing even brighter. As I turned the key and the engine roared to life, I could feel the unspoken anticipation hanging in the air. Tonight was going to be a turning point—whether either of us was truly ready or not.