The next morning brought visitors.
Lukas was picking at his breakfast—some elaborate dish involving eggs, herbs, and what tasted like regret—when the commotion in the courtyard drew his attention. Through his window, he could see a carriage bearing the crest of House Blackthorne pulling up to the main entrance.
*Shit.*
The memories flooding back told him exactly who this was: Cassian Blackthorne, his older cousin and everything Lukas was supposed to be but wasn't. Talented, charismatic, and blessed with a rare lightning affinity that had manifested when he was barely fourteen. He'd awakened so spectacularly that he'd accidentally blown out every window in the ceremony hall.
In the original story, Cassian served as a constant reminder of Lukas's inadequacy—not maliciously, but through simple existence. He was the golden child who made everyone wonder what had gone wrong with the Vain bloodline.
"Young Master," came the inevitable knock at his door. "You have a visitor."
Lukas set down his fork and straightened his shoulders. Time to play the part.
He found Cassian in the main hall, looking every inch the prodigy he was supposed to be. Eighteen years old, tall and confident, with the kind of natural presence that made other people pay attention when he walked into a room. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his clothes expensive but practical, and there was the faint scent of ozone that followed powerful lightning mages.
"Cousin!" Cassian's smile was genuine, which somehow made everything worse. "How are you holding up?"
"Fine," Lukas replied, matching the original's typical sullen tone. "What brings you here?"
"The ceremony, of course." Cassian's expression grew more serious. "Uncle Aldric asked me to speak with you. Offer some... guidance."
*Of course he did.* Baron Aldric probably thought his successful nephew could somehow inspire his failure of a son to suddenly develop magical talent through sheer force of example.
"I don't need guidance," Lukas said, letting a bit of the original's defensiveness creep into his voice.
"Everyone needs guidance, Lukas." Cassian moved closer, and Lukas could actually feel the latent power radiating from him—like standing too close to a lightning rod during a storm. "The ceremony can be... overwhelming. When my magic awakened, I nearly killed three people."
"At least you awakened something," Lukas muttered.
"And you will too." Cassian's voice carried the absolute certainty of someone who'd never truly failed at anything important. "The Blackthorne and Vain bloodlines both carry magical heritage going back centuries. It's impossible for you to be completely without talent."
*If you only knew how little bloodline matters when you're wearing someone else's body.*
"What if I don't?" Lukas asked, genuinely curious about his cousin's response.
Cassian's confidence faltered for just a moment. "You will," he repeated, but with less conviction. "And even if your affinity is weak, there are ways to strengthen it. Training regimens, magical supplements, focused meditation—"
"That's not what I asked."
The silence stretched between them. Finally, Cassian sighed.
"If you don't awaken," he said carefully, "then you'll find other ways to serve the family. Manage the business interests, perhaps. Or pursue scholarly work. Magic isn't everything, Lukas."
*Liar.* In this world, magic was everything. A noble without magical ability was just a commoner with fancier clothes and a bigger allowance. They both knew it.
"Right," Lukas said. "Other ways."
"Come on." Cassian clearly wanted to change the subject. "Show me what you've been practicing. Maybe I can spot something you're missing."
*This should be interesting.*
They made their way to the training yard behind the manor—a circular space paved with stones worn smooth by generations of Vain family members practicing their magical arts. Targets lined one wall, some wooden, others made of enchanted materials designed to withstand more powerful attacks.
"The basics first," Cassian said, taking a position in the center of the circle. "Try to feel for your magical core. It should be somewhere in your chest, maybe lower in your abdomen. Close your eyes and breathe deeply."
Lukas did as instructed, though he already knew what he'd find. Nothing. No warm glow of power, no thrumming energy waiting to be unleashed. Just the ordinary beating of an ordinary heart in an ordinary body.
"Anything?" Cassian asked.
"No."
"Try harder. Sometimes it's subtle at first. Like a flickering candle flame or distant thunder."
Lukas reached deeper, searching for any spark of the power that was supposed to be his birthright. For a moment, he thought he felt something—not magic, but that same alien presence he'd sensed during his transmigration. But when he tried to grasp it, it slipped away like smoke.
"Still nothing."
Cassian frowned. "That's... unusual. Here, let me try something."
He moved behind Lukas and placed his hands on his shoulders. Immediately, Lukas felt the hair on his arms stand up as lightning magic coursed through his cousin's body.
"I'm going to channel a small amount of my power into you," Cassian explained. "Sometimes external stimulation can help awaken a dormant core."
The lightning entered Lukas's body like liquid fire. It raced through his nervous system, searching for something to kindle, some hidden reserve of power to ignite. For several seconds, he was filled with raw magical energy that wasn't his own.
And then, just for an instant, something responded.
Not from his chest or abdomen where his magical core should have been, but from somewhere much deeper. That alien presence stirred, reaching out toward the foreign power flowing through him like a starving man grasping for bread.
*PLUNDER*
The word echoed in his mind, and suddenly the lightning magic flowing into him... changed. Instead of simply passing through his body, it began to stick, to pool in places it shouldn't, as if something inside him was trying to claim it as its own.
Cassian jerked his hands away with a sharp intake of breath.
"What the hell?" His eyes were wide, confused. "I felt... something pulled at my magic. Like it was trying to—"
He cut himself off, staring at Lukas with an expression caught between concern and suspicion.
"Pulled at it how?" Lukas asked, forcing his voice to remain steady even as his heart hammered against his ribs.
"I don't know." Cassian took a step back. "It felt like something was trying to tear pieces of my power away. That's... that's not normal, Lukas. That shouldn't be possible."
*Shit.* Lukas had felt it too—that hungry presence inside him reaching out for Cassian's lightning, trying to steal it, to make it his own. For just a moment, **Plunder** had awakened.
"Maybe you imagined it," Lukas said. "You said yourself that sometimes magic can be unpredictable during training."
Cassian didn't look convinced. "No, this was different. There was intent behind it. Purpose." He studied Lukas's face intently. "Are you sure you didn't feel anything?"
"I'm sure."
It was a lie, of course. But admitting that he possessed some unknown ability that could apparently steal magical power from others seemed like an excellent way to find himself on the wrong end of a very thorough investigation.
"Perhaps we should continue this another time," Cassian said finally. "When you're more relaxed."
"Perhaps."
They walked back to the manor in uncomfortable silence. At the entrance, Cassian paused.
"Lukas," he said, his voice carrying a warning that hadn't been there before. "If something unusual happens during your ceremony... anything at all... you need to tell Master Thorne immediately. Some magical awakenings can be dangerous if not properly guided."
"Of course," Lukas replied. "I wouldn't want to hurt anyone."
Cassian nodded, but his eyes remained troubled. "Take care, cousin. And... good luck."
After his cousin's carriage disappeared down the road, Lukas returned to his room and locked the door. He sat on his bed and stared at his hands, trying to process what had just happened.
**Plunder** was real. It was inside him, waiting, hungry for power that belonged to others. But it wasn't magic in the traditional sense—at least, not magic that would show up on any awakening ceremony.
Which meant he had a choice to make.
He could go to the ceremony in two weeks, fail to awaken any conventional magical ability, and be declared a dud. That path led to irrelevance and eventually, when the story began in earnest, death.
Or he could find a way to use **Plunder** to steal the magical power he needed to survive.
The question was: how?
And more importantly: from whom?
His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, no longer looking quite so ordinary. There was something different in his eyes now—a hunger that hadn't been there before.
*Thirteen days until the ceremony.*
Thirteen days to figure out how to steal enough power to fool Master Thorne and secure his place at the Royal Academy.
Thirteen days to become a thief of the worst kind.
The kind who stole what made people special and claimed it as his own.