The sun was already sinking when Luca was released from the underground halls of the parish. By then, it was far too late to find new lodgings, unless he wanted to waste coin on an inn.
He had no intention of throwing away the money he'd saved, not after tonight.
His pouch held about ninety-three Sterlings from months of careful saving, plus the fifty Sterlings the Church had just handed him as "compensation."
A small fortune.
All seven territories of the Divine Solaran Empire used the same currency now. The Kingdom of Astor was no different.
The math was simple: one hundred bronze pence equaled a silver Sterling. One thousand silver Sterlings equaled a gold Crown.
The average worker in Carinthia City earned about twenty-five pence per week. That came to one Sterling per month, enough to feed a family of three just barely, if they stretched it.
When his parents had died, they'd left him twenty Sterlings; their life savings. That money became his foundation.
Then he'd scraped together by any means that worked. A little pickpocketing. and helping wealthier citizens with errands.
And now, after years of guarding every coin, he had more than most peasants would see in years.
A grin tugged at his mouth as he calculated the totals in his head. There was so much he could do. So much he could make of this.
For now, he set the thoughts aside and ruminated on where to stay for the night.
He chose Old Humphrey's house, which doubled as a forge. Humphrey was a blacksmith and was considered wealthy for a commoner.
Luca sometimes thought he could see numbers written across the old man's forehead. 5 Crowns per month; that was about what Humphrey earned supplying the city guard and the odd mercenary with weapons. Lucrative enough to keep him very comfortable but not nearly as rich as nobles.
Business in peacetime wasn't much.
The old man had been skeptical, but after Luca explained his situation, Humphrey grudgingly lent him a guest room.
Luca collapsed onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. It was softer than the one he'd left behind. The room itself was larger and cleaner too.
By now, the sun had fully slipped past the horizon. The silver moon gleamed high above the city, bathing the rooftops in pale light.
Luca tucked his pouch into the space beside his chest, where he would feel if anyone tried to take it. He doubted anyone in Humphrey's house would steal from him, but caution was habit.
Finally, at last, he let his eyes close. Sleep took him.
. . .
Whoosh!
A sound like rushing wind jolted him awake.
His hand darted for the pouch near his chest, only to grab empty cloth.
It wasn't there.
He shot upright. His heart had already begun to pound wildly.
And then he realized something far worse.
"Where in the Sun's name am I?"
He wasn't in Humphrey's guest room anymore.
He stood instead on a vast plain of grass, stretching endlessly in all directions, with nothing else as far as the eye could see.
Above him, the sky was alive with stars. Millions, no—billions of them, burning so bright they rivaled the sun. Entire constellations tangled together, glowing with clarity.
Luca froze.
'Is this… a dream?'
He wasn't sure. If it was a dream, why did he know that he was one? That alone unsettled him. Some people claimed dreams were tricks spun by demons to drag souls into damnation. He'd always dismissed that as nonsense.
Now… he wasn't so sure.
He reached out instinctively toward one of the many stars. To his shock, the distant point of light shot downward as if called by his hand.
It streaked straight toward him.
Too fast!
"Sh—!"
He tried to move, but the light struck before he could finish the thought.
BOOM.
Starlight poured into him like fire through open veins. The world twisted around him and the ground split beneath his feet.
Luca fell.
He fell down, passing through layers of existence. He glimpsed worlds for only a fraction of a heartbeat each; planes filled with colors his eyes couldn't hold. Scenes flickered past his vision. Vast cities, monsters and faces as big as mountains. It was too many at once. His skull felt as if it might split apart.
Then came nothingness. And then, worse than nothingness: thousands of eyes blooming in the void, staring straight into him.
A pressure clawed at his temples. The eyes collapsed, merging into long black arms that reached for him, dragging him deeper into the void.
He could barely think. Barely breathe.
One truth rang in his head: I am far smaller than I thought.
Voices whispered all around him speaking names and words he didn't recognize.
"Astaphaios…"
"Adonai… Elohim…"
"Agiel… Yaldabaoth…"
The words overlapped turning from whispers into a scream that threatened to pierce through all his defenses.
Luca clutched his ears, but it was as though the sound travelled directly to his brain. His knees buckled. The weight of the words pressed down like chains, but he refused to collapse.
He wouldn't yield.
Something broke open inside him, like a dam letting water pass through. His eyes snapped wide, glowing faint blue. He thrust an arm forward without thinking about it
"Converge!"
The word came out in a language he didn't recognize, and the world bent to his will immediately.
The voices stopped. The eyes vanished. The chaos of colors and shifting scenes crumbled. All of it folded inward, compressing into a single sphere of light.
The ball of energy drifted toward him and slammed into his mind.
It exploded.
A symbol bloomed in his consciousness, suspended in a miniature cosmos. A white glyph rotated endlessly, circled by a darker force orbiting in the opposite direction.
Luca gasped for air. His chest heaved.
"What… was that?"
The terror still lingered in his bones, but the visions had ended. The balance of light and dark in his mind pulsed once, then spilled outward.
The energy didn't drag him away this time.
Instead, it gathered.
Before his eyes, the force congealed into shape. It twisted, solidified, then fell with a heavy thump onto the grass.
A tome.
Its cover was thick and ancient-looking, etched with silver lines.
On its front were bold words:
"Introduction to Magic and the Heretical Arts"
Beneath, in smaller script:
"By Magnus Crowley; the Emperor of Heresies."