Aleksander sprinted down the dim corridor of the House of Mystery, he skidded to a stop before a grand, ancient-looking door engraved with shifting runes.
He knocked firmly.
"Master!"
Inside, Yan Sen slowly opened his eyes. His body, still in the air from meditation, descended gently to the floor. Without a word, he stepped toward the door and opened it, his golden eyes calm as always.
Aleksander didn't hesitate.
"Master, Luda needs help," he said, breathing heavily.
Yan Sen gave a quiet nod. "Come in."
Aleksander followed him inside without question. The room smelled faintly of incense and old magic—sigils floated like fireflies across the walls. Yan Sen settled into his chair, and with one glance invited Aleksander to explain.
Aleksander spoke quickly.
"Luda… her family's secret—it's worse than I thought. She recently learned her ancestor was a powerful sorceress, one who sealed away a group of blood-sucking demons five centuries ago. That seal… it was passed down her bloodline, her family maintaining it all this time."
Yan Sen's brows furrowed slightly, listening intently.
"She's been doing her best to uphold the seal ever since she found out," Aleksander continued. "But now—now she says the seal is weakening. She can feel it. And she's afraid it's about to break. She's asking for our help."
There was a brief silence.
Then Yan Sen stood.
"We leave at dawn," he said calmly. "But we begin preparations now. The seal's breaking means those demons are stirring… and old blood magic tends to rot from the inside first."
Aleksander felt relief wash over him, but also a chill of dread.
Yan Sen gestured silently.
Aleksander followed him through the ancient hallways of the House of Mystery, their footsteps echoing against marble and memory. Eventually, Yan Sen stopped before two massive double doors carved with ancient glyphs—the Library.
He waved his hand.
With a low groan, the doors opened.
What lay beyond took Aleksander's breath away.
Bookshelves spiraled upward endlessly, climbing the walls like ivy, lining the entirety of the massive chamber in perfect circular symmetry. A wrought-iron winding staircase rose at the center, leading to multiple suspended walkways and terraces stacked with even more texts. Velvet banners floated from the ceiling, enchanted to resist age and dust. Scrolls and tomes—some glowing, others locked in arcane chains—lined every possible surface, including the floor, where towers of books stood taller than a man.
A candlelit stillness filled the air.
A place where even silence dared not speak too loudly.
"This library," Aleksander muttered under his breath, "one could live here their whole life… and never touch half its knowledge."
Yan Sen gave no reply. He was already in motion, scanning spines, opening drawers, inspecting sigils on leather-bound volumes older than civilizations.
He pulled out a cluster of sealed scrolls, tucked beneath a black-iron lockbox. Without a word, he turned and walked out—Aleksander close behind.
Back in Yan Sen's office—lit by floating lanterns and ever-shifting shadows—the master mage unrolled the scroll on his desk. The parchment shimmered faintly as if resisting being read.
Revealed within was a macabre illustration: a grotesque creature, pale and malformed. It had no eyes, no ears, no nostrils—only a white, skin-like membrane stretched over its face, and a skull shape eerily close to human. Its mouth featured four pronounced fangs, jagged and curved like those of a vampire. Despite its monstrousness, its skeletal structure whispered of humanity, a hint at what it once was.
Yan Sen turned the scroll toward Aleksander.
"These," he said grimly, "are the Upnir."
He tapped the illustration as it shimmered and reshaped, briefly animating to show the Upnir emerging from beneath a cracked temple floor, moving like shadows with bone-jointed limbs.
"They are blood-sucking monsters," Yan Sen explained, "born of a divine curse. Long ago, a village bathed in the blood of sacrificial victims—rituals meant to appease forgotten gods. But one of those gods found the act impure… and cursed the entire village."
He paused."But the curse backfired."
Aleksander's eyes narrowed. "How?"
"The cursed villagers did not die… they evolved. Their forms twisted underground, their hunger magnified. What was meant to be punishment gave them power. They began multiplying… growing… until they found their first Queen."
Yan Sen leaned back, his expression unreadable."Your fiancée's ancestor was the one who sealed them. She gave her life to create the seal. And now, it's weakening."
Aleksander clenched his fist. "If they get out—"
Yan Sen finished for him."—They'll feast, multiply again… and we won't just be facing monsters. We'll be facing a blood empire."
"Now," Yan said, with a glimmer of resolve, "let's go help your spouse."
Aleksander nodded, his heart swelling with determination—and something softer. Hope.
He turned toward the central sigil embedded in the library floor, made from a strange silvery alloy that shimmered under candlelight. The House of Mystery, as ancient as the stars themselves, was no ordinary structure. It was a vessel, a sanctuary, and a dimensional conduit, capable of slipping between time, realms, and realities. A home—and a weapon.
Yan Sen stepped beside him.
"Take us there, my friend," Yan Sen said calmly, resting his hand on the wall.
He took a breath and reached out with his will, connecting to the heart of the House. The foundations trembled—books fluttered on their shelves, distant clocks chimed in broken rhythms, and a low hum pulsed through the walls.
Suddenly, the air thickened.
The transformation began.
A clear, swirling haze erupted in the central chamber like mist unraveling from unseen seams in space. The very fabric of the House began to twist and swirl, its form bending and stretching into nothingness.
The walls shimmered, their angles warping as if rejecting Euclidean logic. The air filled with a rushing sound, like wind through a canyon—or breath inhaled by something unfathomably large. Floors rippled beneath their feet as lanterns flickered wildly.
Then—a crack.
A sharp, deafening crack, like the breaking of reality itself.
The House gave one final shudder—
—and vanished.
To any outside observer, the entire estate—gardens, towers, the library, the forge—was pulled into a swirling vortex, as if the world had simply lost its grip on the structure. The swirl cleared in seconds, leaving only faint dust motes in the air and silence where once a grand house stood.
Inside, Aleksander and Yan Sen stood in the same chamber—but it was no longer in the same world. The windows now looked out on darkened skies, with fractured moons and forests that twisted unnaturally in the distance. Where Luda awaited, lay not far ahead.
Yan Sen placed a hand on Aleksander's shoulder and said, "Before we go any further, you'll need weapons fit for what lies ahead."
He turned and led Aleksander down the stone corridor that twisted back into the heart of the House of Mystery. The air grew denser with power as they approached the weapons vault. Finally, they arrived at a large ironbound door engraved with runes and arcane seals. With a flick of his wrist, Yan Sen dispelled the locks, and the door swung open with a deep, echoing creak.
Inside, the room glowed softly with enchantments. Racks and display cases lined the walls, showcasing relics and weapons of impossible origins: the Ten Rings pulsing faintly with energy, the ominous shimmer of the Ebony Blade resting in its sheath, even Mjolnir sitting atop a pedestal as though waiting for a worthy hand.
But Yan Sen led Aleksander past them all and gestured toward a specific section of the far wall—where two weapons hung side by side.
One was Excalibur, radiant and flawless, its blade humming with divine clarity.
Beside it hung Morningstar, darker and more brutal in design. It was a flanged mace with traces of infernal flame still sealed into its head. Its chain and handle were wrapped in old black leather, worn but strong.
Yan Sen turned to Aleksander.
"These two perfect for fighting them."
Aleksander stepped forward and picked up Excalibur. The double-edged blade gleamed under the light, its leather-bound grip worn but firm in his hand. A polished gem sat embedded in the pommel, catching the light with a quiet shimmer.
On his wrist, a faint glow pulsed from a magical tattoo—an enchanted seal that opened to a pocket dimension. Without a word, he reached into the glowing mark and stored both the sword and his Morningstar, the weapons vanishing in a ripple of light.
Yan Sen looked at Aleksander and gave a small nod."Let's go."
They arrived just beyond the edge of the village—an old, quiet place surrounded by woods and thick fog that never quite lifted. The sky above was pale, overcast with the same gray weight that always seemed to hang over the region.
At the entrance to the main path stood Luda, wrapped in a deep blue cloak, her hands clasped in front of her. Her expression was calm, but her eyes held that faint, nervous anticipation only someone who had been waiting for hours in silence could wear.
She had known they would come. She trusted Aleksander, and she trusted the stories she'd been told about Yan Sen—about the House of Mystery and its uncanny ability to arrive precisely when needed.
Soon she saw two coming out of forest, Luda's lips parted in relief.
Aleksander didn't wait. He ran the few short steps to her, arms out, expression raw with concern and affection.
She met him halfway.
Their arms locked around each other as though no time had passed between them. She held him tightly, pressing her face to his shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at her, hands cupping her face, and kissed her—firm and real, not out of urgency but out of need.
"I'm here," Aleksander whispered as their foreheads rested together.
"I know," Luda said, just as softly.
Yan Sen gave them their moment, his gaze quietly sweeping the perimeter of the village, already reading the air for the signs of something he could easily tell something old—something wrong—beneath the earth.
Yan Sen's voice cut through the quiet mountain air with calm authority.
"You can continue this later," he said, not unkindly but firmly. "We have an Upnir problem to handle."
Aleksander and Luda both straightened, faces flushing with mild embarrassment, and stepped apart slightly. Luda wasted no time, gathering herself as she reached into the leather satchel slung across her side. She pulled out several aged scrolls, each bound with faded string and marked with the sigils of her bloodline.
"These were passed down through the women in my family," she said quickly, handing them to Yan Sen. "I've decoded what I could, and here's everything about the seal, the rites, the leylines—"
Yan Sen nodded, already unrolling one of the scrolls as he walked. His eyes scanned the ancient symbols with practiced ease, muttering under his breath. "Remarkable. Your ancestor wasn't just powerful, she was precise. She identified the leylines across this entire region and structured a recursive sealing formation directly on top of a convergence node."
He paused and looked up at the dense trees. "If the leylines hadn't shifted recently… this seal could've held for another two thousand years."
Aleksander glanced at Luda, both of them in quiet awe. Even she hadn't realized the scope of her ancestor's work.
"Come," she said, turning toward the north trail. "I'll show you where it was placed."
They followed her up a narrow path that wound through moss-covered stone and crooked pines. The further they went, the more the temperature dropped—unnaturally so—and a strange stillness began to settle.
At the base of the mountain cliffs, hidden between two massive boulders, Luda raised both hands and began to chant. Her voice wove through the air, low and rhythmic. The space before them shimmered—like heat waves in reverse—and then solidified into view: a narrow tunnel entrance sealed by wooden boards covered in old, dark witchcraft engravings. Symbols crawled like roots over every plank, some glowing faintly, others cracked and dulled with age.
Yan Sen stepped forward, tracing one of the sigils lightly with a gloved finger. His eyes flicked back to the scroll before nodding to himself.
"This is it," he said, voice steady. "The primary entrance."
He rolled up the scroll and tucked it into his coat, glancing at them both.
"Now," he said, his tone shifting—cool and focused, "let's see the hive."