I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even bother turning on my audiobook. These past two weeks had been ripped straight out of a damn storybook, and not the kind I’d want to read. As I stole a glance at Mattie, her giddy excitement still radiated off her in waves, like a kid waiting to open a long-anticipated gift.

  We pulled up to the last victim’s house, a sprawling mini-mansion in Naperville. The kind of place that screamed old money meets new money’s ego. Someone had gone out of their way to make sure anyone passing by knew exactly how much cash they had—or at least wanted you to think they had. It was ostentatious, and I hated it on sight.

  Jeff Timbs, the third victim, was a Journeyman Enchanter. While I waited for Williams to haul his gear out of his van, I lit a fresh cigar and stared at the towering facade of the house. The polished stone exterior gleamed in the early light, and I couldn’t help but mutter to myself, "All this magic, and they still couldn’t ward themselves from a blade in the dark."

  Williams trudged over, his bag slung over his shoulder, and I decided to ask the question on my mind. "Hey, did you know Jeff?"

  Williams adjusted his bag, taking a moment to think before answering. "Actually, yeah. He was pretty well-known in the community. If your gear wasn’t from the Other Realm, it was probably enchanted by him. Hell, most of my artifacts were."

  "Close?" I asked, watching his face for any sign of hesitation.

  "Not really," he admitted. "It was more of a business relationship. Jeff kept to himself, didn’t seem like the kind to hang out or make friends."

  I nodded, filing the information away. Together, the three of us walked up the marble steps and into the house.

  The moment we stepped inside, it was like entering a different world. The interior was less “rich guy trying too hard” and more “ancient collector of lost wonders.” Artifacts were displayed behind pristine glass cases, runes glowing faintly on the pedestals that held them. The house exuded an air of understated elegance, the kind you only find when someone actually knows what they’re doing with their wealth.

  It reminded me of my grandmother’s castle back in the Other Realm—elegant, cold, and filled with things far more dangerous than they looked.

  Mattie stepped into the entryway, her eyes wide as they darted from one artifact to the next. "Boss, this place is like… a magical museum. Everything’s enchanted."

  I took another drag of my cigar and nodded slowly. "Yeah, kid. It is. And something tells me whoever killed Jeff wasn’t just here for a friendly chat."

  Williams moved past us, setting up his instruments in the corner of the room. The soft hum of his artifacts coming to life blended with the faint buzz of residual magic hanging in the air. Whatever secrets this house held, they weren’t going to stay hidden for long.

  Jeff's house was massive. It took us hours to go through every nook and cranny, and yet, nothing seemed out of place. For an Enchanter of his rank and prestige, everything was meticulously in order. The sheer normalcy of it all set my nerves on edge. Nothing out of place usually meant something was—just hidden well enough to make you doubt yourself.

  "Boss man!" Mattie's voice called from the attic, jolting me from my thoughts.

  I climbed the creaky wooden ladder, stepping into the dimly lit space. The attic was cluttered with the usual odds and ends you’d expect—old trunks, boxes of books—but smack in the middle was an altar. Surrounding it were various items of the occult: black candles, runed stones, and a ceremonial dagger gleaming under a faint beam of light from the skylight above.

  I took a long drag of my cigar and shrugged. "Kid, for an Enchanter, this doesn’t exactly scream scandal. People have been sacrificing magical creatures and demons for thousands of years. Sometimes for power, sometimes just for kicks."

  Mattie frowned, her brows knitting together. "It just feels… off, Boss. Out of place, y'know? The rest of the house is practically sterile. This? It sticks out."

  I tapped ash onto the floor and sighed. "I get it, kid. Shadows look bigger when you’re tired, and after the last two days, I don’t blame you for seeing them everywhere. But for now, let’s let Williams’ team handle this. We’ve got a fresh scene to check out, and after that…" I paused, bracing myself. "After that, we’re heading home for a long talk. One I’m really not ready for."

  She gave me a sharp nod, but I could see the excitement in her eyes. Then, like a kid at recess, she practically flew out of the attic. If her feet touched the ground even once on the way down, I’d eat my cigar.

  I lingered for a moment, staring at the altar. Something about it tugged at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place it. Shaking it off, I climbed back down and found Williams in the kitchen, guzzling water like he’d been running a marathon.

  "We’re heading to the new crime scene," I said. "You coming?"

  Williams wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded. "Yeah. I’ll leave my senior staff to bag and tag this one. Strangely normal place for a crime scene, though."

  I barked out a laugh. "It’s been two fucking days. Nothing’s normal anymore."

  He chuckled dryly, grabbing his bag. "Ain’t that the truth."

  I walked to the car, and Mattie was already sitting inside, looking drained but ready. I slid into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and we were off to the Back of the Yards on Chicago's South Side—a sprawling warehouse district steeped in the city's gritty industrial past.

  The drive was silent, the kind of silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. I had plenty of those, and for once, the kid respected the quiet. I glanced at her a couple of times in the rearview mirror. She was staring out the window, lost in her own world. I could tell she was running on fumes; we both were. Three days straight on the road, unraveling layers of hell. Magic kept us upright, but the cracks were showing.

  By the time the sun started climbing, its soft light bleeding over the horizon, we rolled into the warehouse district. The scene ahead was chaos: CPD cars, flashing lights, and Order members swarming like ants. I pulled up, parked with a screech, and got out.

  Detective Murphy spotted me right away. He jogged over, looking both relieved and hesitant. "Hey, Julius," he said, a tired smile on his face. "Sorry to drag you out again, but I heard you’ve had one hell of a couple of days. Hate to say it, though—it’s about to get worse. But hey, I heard you found some super cool magical items—"

  Mattie cut him off with a sharp tone I rarely heard from her. "People have been brutally murdered, and you want to talk about magical trinkets and bullshit?"

  Murphy stumbled back a step, his confidence shaken. "Sorry... I didn’t mean—"

  Mattie wasn’t letting up. "Maybe you should learn some decorum. Now, what do we have here?"

  I couldn’t help but smirk. Maybe the kid was ready.

  Murphy cleared his throat, his voice faltering. "We, uh, found over fifty bodies. Looks like they’ve been killed over the past few months."

  "Thanks," Mattie said curtly, brushing past him like she owned the place. I followed her, suppressing a chuckle. The kid was a force when she wanted to be.

  I caught up with Williams near the entrance. "What’s the report?"

  Williams sighed, his face grim. "Fifty-five bodies, all of them with their souls ripped out. Some tortured, some weren’t. The kicker? They’re all mortals. Not a single drop of magic in any of them."

  "Huh." My mind was racing, but my face stayed neutral.

  We walked into the warehouse together, and the stench hit us like a freight train. Death, blood, and decay mixed with the cold metallic tang of the industrial air. It was suffocating, almost thick enough to taste.

  The bodies were laid out in rows, some wrapped in plastic, others left exposed to the elements. It was a grotesque tableau of suffering and cruelty. The room felt heavy, oppressive, like the lingering energy of so much death had soaked into the walls. My magical senses buzzed, not from power, but from the sheer wrongness of it all.

  Mattie glanced at me, her face pale but her eyes hard. "This wasn’t just murder," she said softly. "This was methodical."

  "Yeah," I muttered, taking in the scene. "Methodical, and whoever did this had a purpose."

  The kid was right. This was more than just killing—it was a message. The only question was to who.

  "Kid, let me take this one," I said, stepping forward, already scribbling in my notepad as I made my way through the rows of bodies. "Let’s see if I miss anything."

  The scene was grim—fifty bodies lined up, each with two silver coins placed carefully over their eyes. It was a chilling uniformity, like some kind of macabre ritual. I crouched by the first body and examined the placement of the coins, noting the precision.

  "Williams," I called out without looking up, "if I’m correct, the bodies on the left are older than the ones on the right, yeah?"

  "Yup," Williams replied.

  "Okay, so it looks like the killer was practicing—honing their craft—over the past several months. See how these wounds here are cleaner, more precise than the earlier ones?"

  Williams nodded grimly. "I’d agree with that."

  I stood and paced the length of the room, taking in the arrangement. "And all the bodies were dumped here, but the killings were done elsewhere. That much is obvious."

  Williams confirmed, "I’d agree on that too."

  Mattie, standing near the center of the room, spoke up, her voice sharper than usual. "This was just practice for this sick bastard. Which means the bodies from last night—those were the real targets."

  I pointed at her. "Bingo, Kid. Good call."

  "Williams," I said, turning to him, "who found the bodies?"

  He flipped through his notes. "Some kids playing around—they said they smelled something funny and ventured inside."

  I shook my head, muttering, "Brave kids. This isn’t the kind of neighborhood where you go poking around in the unknown."

  I straightened up, taking one last glance at the grim scene. "Alright," I said, exhaling deeply, "there’s nothing more for us here. Mattie, we’ll collect the reports, and then we can sit down to—"

  A sudden chill washed over the room, like someone had flipped a switch. The faint sound of oars cutting through water echoed around us. And then, as if materializing out of thin air, Chiron appeared, his skeletal hand gripping his staff.

  "Master Wizard," he said in his hollow voice, "we meet again."

  My blood ran cold. "Chiron," I muttered, standing straight. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  He tilted his head, his empty sockets seemingly fixed on me. "The bodies you see before you… their souls are crying out for justice. And yet, their deaths were not without... purpose."

  I could feel Mattie tensing beside me. "What do you mean, purpose?" she asked cautiously.

  Chiron’s voice was slow, deliberate, and grating. "The killer is playing a dangerous game. The silver coins are more than just a symbol. They are a token—a seal of passage, marking these souls for something far darker than death."

  The air grew heavier, and I realized I was holding my breath. "Marking them for what?" I demanded.

  Chiron’s skeletal smile widened. "You’ll see soon enough, Master Wizard. Oh, yes... you’ll see."

  And just like that, he vanished, leaving behind the echo of his eerie laugh.

  As Mattie and I walked back to the car, I muttered, "Great. Somehow, we keep finding far more questions than fucking answers." I swung into the driver’s seat, fired up the engine, and decided to leave the audiobook off. The silence stretched between us for a moment before I broke it.

  "Mattie," I began, keeping my eyes on the road. "I know you feel like I’m hard on you. And you’re right—I am. But it’s because I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. You’ve got this insane raw potential, more mana than most people could ever hope to channel. And that’s only going to grow as you get stronger."

  She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her watching me, listening intently.

  "I know being banished sucks," I continued. "It’s a raw deal, but here’s the thing—people genuinely believe you’re going to be one of the few who actually makes it back to the Other Realm. I know it’s your dream. So it’s my job to shape you into the best damn wizard you can be, to prepare you for that world. But..." I hesitated. "There’s a lot I shouldn’t have to teach you. If we were in the Other Realm, you’d have access to resources and mentors far beyond me. But here, you’re stuck with me."

  She finally spoke, her voice steady but warm. "Master, you know I appreciate everything you’ve taught me. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better wizard to guide me. Everyone says you’re the best, even in the Other Realm."

  "Damn right, I am," I said with a faint smirk. "But let me finish. You may not be a true royal, but your family is part of the upper echelon in society. Once you rank past Trainee, there are going to be expectations placed on you because of your lineage. And since your family hasn’t disowned you, you’ll need to understand things like heraldry and lineage. It’s my responsibility to teach you."

  Mattie leaned forward slightly. "So... you’ll still teach me after I rank up?"

  I glanced at her, my tone firm but reassuring. "Mattie, you’re stuck with me until at least Journeyman. And even after you hit Enlightened, I’ll still be in your ear, bothering you. As my protégé, you would normally become a member of my house—"

  "Wait," Mattie interrupted. "I’d become a member of your house? Just because you’re my master?"

  "Exactly. It’s an ancient tradition," I explained. "A lot of noble families practice it to connect promising practitioners to their house without needing them to marry in. But, as I was saying, since I’m disowned from my family, I can’t induct you into my house like I should. So, I asked Celeste if she’d be willing to induct you into hers once you reach Intermediate rank, as is the tradition."

  Mattie’s eyes widened. "What does that even mean?"

  "It means you’ll officially be a royal. A lesser one, sure, because you’re not blood, but you’ll still carry significant prestige."

  "How’s that different from being a bannerman?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

  "Good question," I said, impressed. "A bannerman is someone in service to a house. Their entire lineage is pledged to their banner lord. They’re not royals or nobles unless they’ve been knighted, which is a whole other topic. But as a member of House Howard, you’d be an actual member of the family."

  "Would I take their last name?" she asked cautiously.

  "You could," I replied, "but you don’t have to. And you’d need their permission. With your skills and the nature of your offense—minor, compared to most banished—I wouldn’t be surprised if they allowed you to take their name once you’re welcomed back to the Other Realm."

  Mattie fell silent, her expression thoughtful. The excitement from earlier hadn’t faded, but there was a new seriousness in her eyes. This wasn’t just a lesson for her; it was the shape of her future being laid out before her.

  As we pulled up to the apartment, I looked over at Mattie. "Let’s finish this conversation inside," I said. She nodded, the weight of the earlier discussion still evident on her face.

  As soon as we stepped through the door, Zefpyre and Celeste were already there, waiting like they owned the place. Celeste eyed Mattie up and down, her gaze sharp but kind. "Has he told you?" she asked.

  Mattie nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "We still have a lot to talk about," I interjected, moving to fill Zefpyre and Celeste in on the details of our earlier conversation. Once Celeste was caught up, she didn’t waste a second diving into the thick of it.

  "Mattie," Celeste began, her tone uncharacteristically serious, "the Other Realm has a long memory. It’s a side effect of practicing magic. As a wizard, you’re essentially immortal unless someone kills you. That means joining my house—or any house—is a big deal. It’s not something that can ever be truly reversed."

  I stepped in, my voice low. "Even for someone like me—disowned—I’m still connected to my family. At one point in time, I was the crown prince of my family’s kingdom. That doesn’t just... disappear."

  Mattie absorbed this quietly, nodding as Celeste continued. "With that in mind," she said, "would you like to join my house? I know House Howard isn’t as prestigious as Julius’s, but..." She paused, considering her words carefully. "I could even ask his sister if she could do right by you."

  Mattie turned to me, her eyes searching. "Kid, that’s entirely up to you," I said carefully. "I have nothing to say on the matter."

  "Nothing to say?" Mattie snapped, her tone sharp with disbelief. "They’re your family!"

  I sighed, looking at the floor for a moment. "I know, Mattie, but... we haven’t been in a good place for over a hundred years. I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about them."

  She looked flabbergasted. "Not the best person?"

  I speak softly, My family are great people, and they’d do right by you. Joining them would open doors that only a handful of families could."

  "We’d be family," she added softly.

  I froze. Mattie’s words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. I glanced at Celeste, who shot me a look that screamed, If you screw this up, you’re the world’s biggest idiot.

  I took a deep breath. "Kid," I began reluctantly, "no matter what, we’ll be family." The words came begrudgingly, but they were true.

  Her reaction caught me off guard. She leapt into my arms, hugging me tightly. I stood there awkwardly, patting her back. "There, there, kid," I said, feeling about as comfortable as a dragon in a teacup shop.

  She pulled back, turning to Celeste. "Please don’t take this the wrong way—I’d be honored to be a member of House Howard—but Julius is like a big brother to me."

  Celeste let out a laugh, her usual sharp wit on full display. "Blink twice if you’re suffering from Stockholm syndrome," she said, smirking.

  I shot her a glare that could’ve melted glaciers. "Celeste, don’t—"

  Before I could stop her, Celeste was on her feet, a calling card already in her hand. "Let me make a call," she said with an air of finality.

  "Celeste!" I barked, realizing what she was about to do. "Don’t you dare—"

  But it was too late. The card gleamed in her hand, and the unmistakable hum of magic filled the air. Whatever was about to happen, I had no way of stopping it now.

  My mind froze, tangled in worry and panic. Before I could even process the situation, the telltale hum of a teleportation spell buzzed through the air. From down the hall, my landlord’s shrill voice sliced through the moment like a dagger: "NO TELEPORTATION MAGIC IN MY BUILDING!"

  I shouted back, "Sorry, you cankerous old hag, this one’s out of my control!"

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

  Before my eyes, my sister materialized in the middle of my apartment. Jessica Holmes, the Dragon of the Immortal Reach. She stood tall and imposing, her slender frame wrapped in battle-mage robes so finely tailored that they shimmered as if stitched with starlight. Her golden brown hair was styled meticulously in goddess braids, her skin like liquid caramel, glowing with the vitality of endless years. The signature purple eyes of House Holmes fixed on me, glinting with both disdain and amusement. In her hand was her wizard’s staff, an awe-inspiring artifact forged from pure Dragonstone, swirling with the essence of living dragon fire. The power radiating from her was palpable, an almost physical force that seemed to fill the room.

  "Well, if it isn’t my little fuck-up of a brother," she said, her lips curling into a smirk.

  She turned away from me without missing a beat, sweeping Celeste into a warm hug. "Celeste, darling! Why haven’t you visited me recently?"

  Celeste, uncharacteristically flustered, stammered, "Sorry, Jessica. I’ve been busy. Being a Master takes up more time than I thought."

  Jessica laughed, a sound as commanding as it was melodic. "Oh, Celeste, just wait until you hit Grand Master like me. Then you’ll never have time to yourself. One of these centuries, I swear, I’ll finish all the little projects I’ve started."

  Mattie, standing off to the side, was practically glowing with awe. I groaned. "Great," I muttered under my breath, "just what I needed—another Jessica fan."

  Jessica’s eyes flicked to Mattie, her gaze sharp but curious. "Well, well," she said, striding over to her, "looks like my baby brother has been training you well."

  Mattie beamed with pride under Jessica’s scrutiny.

  Jessica circled her like a hawk, appraising her. "So, you want to be a Holmes, huh, kiddo?"

  Mattie nodded fervently, her excitement barely contained.

  "Surprising," Jessica mused, her voice heavy with mockery. "I would have thought Julius here would’ve filled your head with hatred for the family. Dreams of taking it down brick by glorious brick and casting it into the deepest Realm to never resurface." Her eyes glinted mischievously.

  Celeste cut in smoothly. "Actually, she’s a big fan of her ‘big bro.’ She sees him as a protector, her family."

  Jessica froze for a moment before laughing—a rich, genuine sound. "Oh, honey. You sweet, deluded child." She swept Mattie into an unexpected embrace, her dragon-fire aura warming the room. "Don’t you worry now. Big Sis Jessica is here to fix this."

  Mattie looked like she might cry, caught between awe and confusion.

  "While Julius may be a great teacher, he doesn’t have a single family bone in his body," Jessica continued, looking at me with a mocking smirk. "The man’s only ever loved one person."

  I muttered under my breath, "Loves." No one seemed to hear.

  Jessica pulled back and looked Mattie in the eyes, her expression softening. "It would be an honor to welcome you into the family. Now, off to your trial."

  Before Mattie could even respond, Jessica snapped her fingers. A swirling portal of golden light appeared, humming with ancient power.

  "In you go!" Jessica said cheerfully, ushering Mattie toward the portal like a mother shooing a child to school. Mattie hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing at me for reassurance, but before she could speak, Jessica pushed her through. The portal vanished with a dramatic whoosh.

  From down the hall, my landlord screamed again. "WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT PORTAL MAGIC?!"

  I yelled back, "Nothing, you moldy bitch! You said no teleportation!"

  "IT’S THE SAME FUCKING THING!" she screeched.

  Jessica and I burst out laughing, the tension dissolving, if only for a moment.

  Jessica leaned casually against the wall, her dragon-fire-lit staff illuminating the dim apartment. She looked at me with that smug expression I knew all too well—the one that said she was about to get under my skin. "You know," she began, her voice dripping with amusement, "when Mom picked out old Gertrude Alistair to be your landlord, I thought it would be hilarious. And guess what? I was right. Like always."

  I glared at her, refusing to take the bait.

  Jessica’s eyes flicked to the papers in her hand. "Now, about Mattie." She stepped forward and handed them to me. "Here’s her induction paperwork. I won’t be able to stay, unfortunately. There’s an emergency in the Other Realm—some crisis or another. Big bummer. I really wanted to be the one to welcome her into the family. I guess you’ll have to do." She paused, her tone turning razor-sharp. "Even though you’re no longer family."

  Those words cut deeper than any blade ever could. They echoed in my mind, a relentless chorus of rejection. I clenched my jaw, taking the papers from her without a word.

  Jessica continued, oblivious to—or perhaps relishing—my turmoil. "Oh, and here." She held out a gleaming object, a pulsating warmth radiating from it. In her hands was a dragon’s egg.

  I stared at it, my mouth opening to protest, but before I could get a word out, she was gone in a blaze of light and glory, leaving behind a faint shimmer of dragon fire. Off to save some distant world. Again.

  I looked at Celeste, still holding the egg like it was about to hatch in my hands. "What the fuck am I going to do with a dragon here on Earth?"

  Celeste, leaning casually against the doorframe, laughed. "No clue. But you better bond it with Mattie. That much is obvious."

  "Obviously," I muttered, glaring at the egg. "But this is just one more headache I don’t need. My sister comes flying in like some Greek goddess, dumps a dragon egg on me, and poof—gone in an instant to save the multiverse. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here cleaning up her messes. As usual."

  Celeste just smiled knowingly. "You know," she said after a beat, "we forgot to explain the details of Mattie’s trial."

  I groaned. "Yeah… Can I blame that one on you?"

  "Fuck you, Julius. Absolutely not," she said, laughing.

  I waved her off. "Eh, she’ll pass. Regardless."

  Celeste studied me, her tone shifting to something softer. "Julius, how’ve you been doing? Really?"

  I rolled my eyes, unwilling to go down that road. "Like you actually care, Celeste."

  She straightened, her expression uncharacteristically earnest. "We’ve been friends most of our lives. Of course, I care. And so does Cassidy. She asked me about you."

  My heart tensed, but I buried the reaction under a layer of indifference. "Whatever. I’m not saying anything. If Cassidy wants to know, she knows where to find me."

  Celeste sighed. "I also hear you still have your coin."

  I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, flipping it idly between my fingers. The weight of it was both literal and metaphorical, a reminder of a life I couldn’t quite leave behind.

  "What are you waiting for?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

  "I only get one call to the Other Realm," I said, staring at the coin. "One. And I know I’ll never get another. So it has to be worth it."

  Celeste watched me for a long moment before shifting the topic. "Speaking of the Other Realm, I’ll reach out to Corin Cailford for you. If you think this kid is worth it, he’ll listen."

  "Good," I said, pocketing the coin again. "This kid’s got more potential than anyone I’ve seen in years. And you know I hate wasted potential."

  Celeste smirked. "Must be someone special, then. You’ve never taken this kind of interest in anyone’s growth before."

  "One of the best in the Order," I said simply. "Or at least they will be."

  Celeste nodded. "Fine. I’ll contact Corin and tell him to get in touch with you. Though we both know you’ll keep holding on to that damn coin you’ll never use."

  "You sticking around until Mattie gets back?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

  She nodded. "She deserves more than just you at her induction. Gabriel and Seraphin will be there too."

  "Wow," I said dryly. "Talk about an audience."

  Celeste grinned. "What can I say? The kid’s special."

  Celeste and I sat in silence, the kind that settles thick in the air, heavy with things unsaid. I pulled out my book, the words dragging me into a world that wasn’t this one, letting the minutes slip by like smoke in a dim-lit bar. The hours melted into nothing, just the sound of the occasional page turn and the quiet hum of my own thoughts.

  Then came the knock. Solid, deliberate, like whoever was on the other side wasn’t used to waiting.

  I dragged myself to the door, cracking it open. There they were: Gabriel, his presence as luminous as a goddamn lighthouse; Seraphin, calm and imposing; and Williams, looking slightly out of place but somehow comfortable in the company of giants.

  "Didn’t expect you," I said, raising an eyebrow at Williams.

  He shrugged, his usual unflappable demeanor intact. "I like the Kid. Wanted to be here to celebrate her," he said, simple as that.

  Gabriel, ever the golden boy, stepped in next. "More are coming," he said, his voice steady, with that unmistakable authority he always carried. "I invited the entire Order."

  I let out a low whistle, more to myself than anyone else. "The entire Order, huh?" No point in arguing; Gabriel was always one for spectacle.

  Without another word, I stepped back, flicking my wrist. The apartment shifted, like a stage set being swapped for the main act. Walls shimmered, furniture vanished, and in its place, the room transformed into something fit for a damn royal induction. Banners unfurled themselves with ancient crests, the light dimmed just enough to feel dramatic, and the faint hum of ancestral magic hung in the air.

  The transformation of the apartment was instantaneous, a wave of my hand crafting a space worthy of both an induction into a Royal house and the celebration of a Wizard ascending to the next tier.

  The room reformed with a commanding elegance that spoke to the rich legacy and dominance of House Holmes. The walls shimmered with an imposing mix of deep amethyst and obsidian, veined with streaks of silver that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. Etched into the walls were the ancient sigils and heraldry of House Holmes—dragons entwined with wizards, celestial scales of justice, and the unmistakable crest of a dragon crowned with laurels, a testament to the house's former status as rulers and guardians of the Immortal Reach.

  Above, the ceiling transformed into a dark, stormy sky filled with rolling clouds that occasionally flashed with lightning, illuminating a spectral constellation of the Holmes crest. The stars were set in a dark purple nebula, evoking both mystery and majesty. Suspended in the center was a grand chandelier crafted from dragonbone and crystal, glowing faintly with golden fire—a clear homage to the lineage's storied connection to dragons.

  The floor gleamed like polished black marble, inlaid with veins of molten silver and gold, converging into an intricate crest of House Holmes at the center of the room. The crest’s design was alive, its dragon seeming to breathe softly, with its eyes faintly glowing. Around the edges of the room, symbols representing significant achievements of the house subtly shifted and shimmered, as though the magic in the air was bringing their history to life.

  A raised dais dominated one end of the room. The throne-like seat at its peak was constructed from dragonstone, intricately carved with the swirling runes of House Holmes. The back of the chair featured an engraving of the family crest, and the armrests bore the marks of ancient victories. Draped over the seat was a regal cloak of deep purple and silver, signifying Mattie’s forthcoming induction and her new status within the house.

  To the left of the dais was a ceremonial table holding a golden chalice filled with a radiant, swirling liquid—a symbolic drink representing Mattie’s acceptance into the family. Beside it lay a thick tome bound in dragonhide, glowing faintly with ancestral magic. The tome’s pages fluttered as if in a breeze, awaiting her signature to officially join House Holmes.

  The air itself was heavy with magic, carrying an unmistakable gravity that commanded reverence. Faint whispers of incantations could be heard, echoing through the space, as though the ancestors of House Holmes were watching from the shadows, their voices blending with the room’s faint hum of power.

  Dark banners lined the walls, their purple fields embroidered with silver thread depicting the house's triumphs. Each banner carried a phrase in Old Realm Script, reminders of the house's immortal virtues: Power through Knowledge. Honor through Action. Eternity through Legacy.

  The room exuded both regal splendor and an unyielding sense of authority. It wasn’t just a space for celebration—it was a declaration of House Holmes’s enduring strength and a solemn reminder of what it meant to join its ranks. Mattie’s induction into the family wasn’t just a moment; it was history in the making, and the room reflected every ounce of its weight.

  The room expanded far beyond its usual dimensions, becoming an opulent grand hall that defied the apartment's physical constraints. The walls shimmered with a golden hue, adorned with intricate carvings of ancient magical symbols and flowing murals depicting the intertwining of realms—the Other Realm's celestial cities, Earth’s vibrant chaos, and the infinite expanse of the cosmos. Each image seemed alive, subtly shifting and glowing, casting faint magical light that illuminated the space.

  Above us, a vaulted ceiling arched high, its surface a constellation of stars glowing in perfect alignment with the Other Realm's night sky. Occasional streaks of "shooting stars" danced across it, leaving trails of light that slowly faded into the vastness. Hanging from the ceiling was a colossal crystal chandelier, its facets enchanted to reflect colors not seen on Earth, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of light.

  The floor was polished obsidian, inlaid with veins of gold and silver that pulsed faintly, almost like the lifeblood of magic itself. At the center of the room, a large circular sigil was embedded into the floor, glowing softly—a symbol of Mattie’s lineage and magical potential. Around the edges, ceremonial rugs in deep purples, blues, and reds lay spread out, embroidered with threads of iridescent silk that shimmered with hidden runes of blessing and protection.

  Tables of food and drink floated gently in the air, laden with delicacies from both Earth and the Other Realm. Ethereal wisps of magic danced over the trays, keeping the dishes warm and the drinks chilled. Goblets of enchanted crystal hovered, filling themselves with sparkling elixirs that glowed faintly in the dim light.

  The air itself was charged with magic, a faint hum of energy that seemed to resonate with everyone present. Subtle musical notes, likely from an unseen charm, floated through the room, creating a melody that was both haunting and triumphant, a fitting backdrop to the momentous occasion.

  As people began to fill the space, the room seemed to adjust itself for the crowd, accommodating everyone with ease while maintaining its grandeur. It was a space that spoke to the gravity of the occasion, one that celebrated Mattie’s hard work and the profound significance of being inducted into a Royal house while ascending in rank as a Wizard. It was a room fit for legends in the making.

  Gabriel surveyed the room and gave a small nod, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Williams just gave me that sideways glance of his, like he was trying to figure out who I was under all the layers of sarcasm and smokescreens.

  I lit a cigar, taking a slow drag as I leaned against the doorframe, the weight of the moment settling in. The Kid’s night was about to begin, and for once, even I couldn’t find a reason to complain.

  The air in the room felt heavy with magic, anticipation crackling like a storm about to break. I paused, the cigar in my hand frozen mid-air, as I felt the disturbance ripple through the wards. Mattie’s trial was nearing its end.

  “Alright, listen up!” I called, my voice cutting through the hum of the gathering crowd. “Since we’ve got half the Order packed in here, we’re doing this properly. Pendragon,” I said, pointing to Gabriel, “you’re the highest-ranking Royal on Earth—barely—so the honors are yours.”

  Gabriel gave a curt nod, stepping forward. “As is my duty.”

  I reached into my coat and handed him the official induction documents. He scanned them, his calm demeanor slipping just enough to raise a single golden eyebrow. “Julius, is this correct?”

  I shrugged, feigning indifference. “I assume so. Didn’t exactly comb through the fine print. What’s the issue?”

  Gabriel looked at me, his voice dropping in weight. “It states she is to be inducted as a direct descendant of House Holmes.”

  I blinked, my breath catching for just a moment. Mattie’s achievements deserved the best, but this... this was unexpected. Gabriel didn’t wait for me to catch up. He nodded, the weight of tradition pressing onto his shoulders.

  In the middle of the dais, a portal tore through the air with a blinding ripple of light. Mattie stepped through, clad in pristine white robes. She looked radiant—confident, and more prepared than I ever was at her stage. For a second, I felt a pang of something between pride and regret.

  Gabriel took the stage, his voice ringing out with regal authority. “All who are gathered here, bear witness! Trainee Mattilyne Charlemagne, first of her name, has met the rank of Intermediate Wizard.”

  The room responded in unison, “We all bear witness.”

  “This marks the first step on a long journey. With power comes responsibility.”

  “We all bear witness.”

  “And with responsibility, privileges,” Gabriel continued, presenting her with her first Wizard’s tome.

  “A Wizard in full,” the room intoned.

  Gabriel smiled faintly. “It is with the greatest privilege that I mark her as Intermediate Wizard Mattilyne Charlemagne, first of her name.”

  The room erupted into cheers as Mattie’s robes burst into shimmering purple flames. Gone were the white robes of a trainee, replaced by green robes adorned with threads of gold—symbols of growth and potential.

  “These robes,” Gabriel said, “mark this stage in your journey. They are the foundation upon which you will build your tower of strength.”

  The crowd thundered, “May your tower grow to unimaginable heights!”

  “Now kneel, my daughter,” Gabriel commanded, his voice softer now.

  Mattie knelt, her hands steady, her eyes forward. Gabriel’s voice grew solemn. “As is the ancient tradition started by the Grand Sorcerer Merlin himself, when a Practitioner reaches the rank of Intermediate, they are inducted into their house. Is there anyone here who wishes to speak on behalf of House Holmes?”

  The room fell silent. Gabriel turned to speak again, but before he could, the room was consumed by an almost unbearable light.

  Out stepped my mother.

  Arch Wizard Rosabella Anna Zariah Holmes, the Grand Matriarch herself. Her presence filled the space, commanding reverence, her voice like thunder wrapped in velvet.

  “I, Arch Wizard Rosabella Anna Zariah Holmes, the Grand Matriarch, wish to speak on behalf of my house.”

  Gabriel, ever the diplomat, yielded with a deep bow, stepping aside as my mother took her place on the dais. Her gaze swept over the room, pausing on me for a fleeting second. It wasn’t disdain—something heavier, something complicated.

  “My newest family member,” she began, her voice carrying the weight of centuries, “Wizard Mattilyne Charlemagne-Holmes, I welcome you. Today is just the first step of many. The road to Arch Wizard is long and arduous, but in you, I see potential not glimpsed in... centuries.”

  She caught herself, the pause deliberate, her meaning unmistakable. “I name you a direct descendant of my house, with all the privileges and responsibilities that come with it.”

  With a wave of her hand, Mattie’s robes shimmered again, now bearing the crest of House Holmes—a sigil I had not seen on myself in over a decade. It stung more than I wanted to admit.

  “Rise, child,” my mother declared. “Rejoice in this moment.”

  The room roared in unison, “Long live Wizard Mattilyne Charlemagne-Holmes, first of her name. May her path be long and her tower rise high!”

  Mattie stood, radiant, her face alight with pride. My mother stepped toward her, cupping her face briefly, whispering something only Mattie could hear. And then, as quickly as she had appeared, my mother was gone, leaving behind the weight of her words and the echo of a legacy far greater than any of us.

  I stood rooted to the spot, right off the dais, as if the ground itself had swallowed my feet. Stunned wasn’t the right word—paralyzed came closer. The world seemed to fold in on me, the edges of my vision blurring like ink bleeding through paper. Around me, people moved in a haze, congratulating Mattie on her new rank, each one offering a gift or a kind word. I couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them clearly. My legs refused to respond, leaden and unyielding.

  My heart pounded against my ribcage like a war drum, each beat louder and harder, drowning out every other sound. My breath shortened, shallow gasps barely enough to keep me upright. Spots filled my vision, dark motes dancing against the blur of light and motion. I was losing myself, slipping into that cold, suffocating abyss I hadn’t felt in years.

  And then, a hand landed firmly on my shoulder.

  The touch snapped me back as though someone had yanked me out of a riptide. The noise of the room rushed back, overwhelming in its intensity. My lungs gulped for air, the tightness in my chest loosening by inches. I turned my head slowly, disoriented.

  Standing beside me were Cassidy and Celeste.

  Cassidy’s hand was still on my shoulder, her grip firm but grounding. She looked at me with those golden-pink eyes that always seemed to see too much. Her expression wasn’t pity, thank the gods—I couldn’t handle pity—but concern laced with something unspoken.

  “You looked like you were about to keel over,” she said, her voice low and steady, as if grounding me further.

  “Almost made a scene,” Celeste added with her usual sharpness, though her tone was softer than usual. “That would’ve been embarrassing, even for you.”

  I tried to speak, but the words didn’t come. My throat felt raw, my tongue heavy. Instead, I nodded, just barely. Cassidy didn’t let go of my shoulder, her grip anchoring me to the moment.

  “You good now?” Cassidy asked, her voice tinged with something I couldn’t quite name. Sympathy? Understanding? I didn’t want to find out.

  “Yeah,” I croaked, my voice hoarse. “Just... a lot. That’s all.”

  Celeste gave me a long look, her piercing gaze scanning me like she could see the cracks I tried to hide. “You’re lucky Mattie didn’t notice. You know how she gets.”

  I snorted, the sound weak but there. “She’s too busy soaking up the spotlight.”

  “Good,” Cassidy said. “She deserves it.”

  I glanced over at Mattie. She was laughing, her face bright with joy as she accepted gifts and congratulations. A direct descendant of House Holmes. My house. My family. The weight of it pressed down on me again, but not as crushing this time.

  “You need to get out of your head, Julius,” Celeste said, crossing her arms. “Go. Say something to her. You’re her mentor, remember?”

  I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. “What do I even say?”

  Cassidy squeezed my shoulder one last time before letting go. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

  I looked at her, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips, and nodded again. My legs finally obeyed, and I stepped toward the crowd, toward Mattie, and away from the shadows I almost let consume me.

  I walked up to Mattie, leaning in close to avoid drawing the crowd’s attention. “Hey, Kid.”

  She looked up at me, her face practically glowing. “Hey, Boss Man.” Her voice was filled with warmth and gratitude. “I want you to know that I wouldn’t be here without you. When I got banished from the Other Realm, I felt hopeless, like I’d never become a Wizard in full. I’ve dreamed of this day since I was a little girl—a day I thought would never come. My parents tried their best, worked so hard, but they couldn’t afford to hire a Master to train me. I thought I’d never have a chance. And then, well... I got stuck with you.”

  She laughed lightly, and I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation, trying to hide the pang of pride welling up inside me.

  “Kid,” I said, my tone teasing but soft, “let’s not turn this into a Lifetime movie. This is a professional ceremony, after all.”

  I reached into my coat and pulled out a purple velvet purse, handing it to her. She took it carefully, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  “This,” I said, “is a dimensional storage bag. Inside is everything a young Wizard could need to start their journey—tools, tomes, and a few surprises. Think of it as a starter kit from your old mentor.” I smirked, then added, “But don’t go poking through it until we’re done here. The ceremony’s not over yet.”

  Mattie laughed, clutching the bag to her chest like it was the greatest treasure in all the realms. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  I turned to the crowd, clearing my throat. “All right, everyone, let’s wrap this up so we can all get some sleep.” The room quieted instantly, the kind of silence that carries reverence.

  “Wizard Mattilyne Charlemagne-Holmes,” I called out, “please take your seat.” I gestured toward the throne at the center of the room. She hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment sinking in, then walked to the throne with the grace of someone who had earned it. She sat down, her green robes glowing faintly as if to acknowledge her new rank.

  The room seemed to hold its breath as a radiant light filled the space, soft and warm, emanating from Mattie herself.

  “Today marks your first day as a Wizard in full,” I said, my voice steady. “Welcome to the club, Practitioner of Magic.”

  The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, a chorus of voices echoing through the chamber. For a moment, I let myself smile. Mattie had earned this—every bit of it—and, despite my usual cynicism, I was proud to have been a part of her journey.