The answer came to him three days later, in the most unlikely of places.
Lukas was walking through the market square of Thornwick—the small town that served as the heart of his family's domain—when he heard the commotion. A crowd had gathered around one of the side alleys, their voices carrying a mixture of excitement and disgust.
"Should've known better than to cheat Marcus Ironheart at dice."
"Fool got what he deserved."
"Still, seems harsh for a few coppers."
Curiosity overrode caution. Lukas pushed through the crowd until he could see what had drawn their attention.
A young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen, lay crumpled against the alley wall. His clothes marked him as a commoner—rough-spun wool and leather that had seen better years—but there was something else about him that made Lukas's breath catch.
Magic.
Even unconscious and bleeding from a split lip, the man radiated a subtle wrongness that spoke of magical ability. Fire, if Lukas had to guess, based on the faint smell of smoke that clung to him despite the lack of any visible flames.
"What happened?" Lukas asked the woman next to him.
"Drifter tried to win some coin at Ironheart's table," she replied without looking away from the spectacle. "Got caught using magic to heat the dice, make them roll his way. Marcus and his boys didn't take kindly to it."
*A fire mage.* And not a weak one, either—it took considerable skill to manipulate dice with that level of precision. But skill without wisdom was just another word for stupidity, and this fool had gotten himself beaten half to death for a handful of copper coins.
*Perfect.*
"Is he dead?" Lukas asked.
"Nah, just knocked senseless. They'll probably dump him outside the town walls when they get bored of looking at him."
The crowd was already beginning to disperse, the entertainment value of watching an unconscious cheater rapidly diminishing. Within minutes, the alley was nearly empty except for the fallen mage and a few lingering gawkers.
Lukas waited until full darkness fell before making his move.
He found the man where the crowd had predicted—dumped beside the road leading out of Thornwick, conscious now but barely. His eyes were swollen nearly shut, and he moved with the careful precision of someone trying not to aggravate broken ribs.
"Hey," Lukas called softly as he approached. "You awake?"
The man's head turned toward him with obvious effort. "Who... who's asking?"
"Someone who might be able to help." Lukas kept his voice gentle, sympathetic. "That was quite a beating you took."
A bitter laugh that turned into a cough. "Should've minded my own business."
"Probably." Lukas knelt beside him, studying the damage in the moonlight. "What's your name?"
"Does it matter? I'll be gone from this shithole town by morning anyway."
"It matters to me. I'm Lukas."
The man was quiet for a long moment. Finally: "Garrett. Garrett Ashford."
"Well, Garrett Ashford, you're in luck. I happen to have some medical supplies back at my home, and my family employs a skilled healer. We could have you patched up properly within the hour."
Garrett's swollen eyes narrowed as much as they were able. "What's the catch?"
*Smart man.* "No catch. Just one person helping another."
"Bullshit." Despite his injuries, Garrett's voice carried the sharp edge of someone who'd learned not to trust kind strangers. "Noble brat like you doesn't help gutter trash like me without wanting something in return."
Lukas let the mask slip just a little, allowed some of his soldier's pragmatism to show through. "You're right. I do want something."
"Knew it. What?"
"Information. About magic. About how it feels when you use it." Lukas paused, as if considering his words carefully. "I'm supposed to undergo my awakening ceremony in ten days, and I'm... concerned... about my prospects."
It wasn't entirely a lie. He did want to understand how magic worked in this world, the better to steal it.
Garrett studied him for a long moment, then slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. "You think you might be a dud."
"I think I might be a dead man if I am."
"Fair enough." Garrett spat blood into the dirt. "Alright, Lord Lukas. You patch me up, and I'll tell you what I know about magic. But I'm gone by morning either way."
"Agreed."
Getting Garrett back to the manor without being seen required more creativity than Lukas had expected. Servants talked, and servants who talked to the wrong people could cause problems. But the old wine cellar had a entrance that connected to the storm drains, and the storm drains led to the outer walls.
It took the better part of an hour, but eventually Lukas had Garrett hidden in a storage room in the cellar's deepest level, along with medical supplies he'd "borrowed" from the family's emergency stores.
"Cozy," Garrett muttered as he looked around the dusty space lit by a single candle.
"It's temporary." Lukas began cleaning the worst of the cuts on Garrett's face. "Now, about magic. Start with the basics."
"You really don't know anything, do you?" Garrett winced as antiseptic hit an open wound. "Fine. Magic comes from your core—a knot of power that sits somewhere in your torso. Different for everyone, but usually around the heart or stomach. When you use magic, you draw power from the core and channel it through your body."
"What does it feel like?"
"Like breathing, if you're any good at it. Like trying to hold lightning in your bare hands if you're not." Garrett's eyes grew distant. "For fire magic like mine, it's warmth spreading through your veins, building until you can't contain it anymore and it has to come out."
Lukas continued his medical work, listening carefully. "And when you used it to heat the dice?"
"Tiny application. Just needed to warm one side more than the other, make them more likely to land the way I wanted. Should've been undetectable, but I got greedy and used too much power too quickly."
*Interesting.* "Show me."
Garrett looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Are you insane? I just told you what happened the last time I—"
"A small demonstration. Nothing flashy. Just enough so I can see how it works."
"Why?"
Lukas met his eyes steadily. "Because I need to understand what I'm hoping to awaken. And because you owe me for the medical treatment."
Garrett was quiet for several seconds. Finally, he held out his hand palm up. "Fine. But if this gets us both killed, I'm blaming you."
The change was subtle at first. Garrett's breathing deepened, and the candle flame flickered as if responding to some unfelt breeze. Then Lukas saw it—a faint reddish glow beneath the skin of Garrett's palm, like embers buried under ash.
"Feel that?" Garrett whispered. "The warmth building up inside, looking for a way out?"
Lukas felt something, but not what Garrett was describing. That alien presence inside him was stirring again, drawn by the display of magical power like a moth to flame. **Plunder** was waking up, and it was hungry.
The glow in Garrett's palm intensified, and a small flame danced above his skin—barely larger than a match, but undeniably real magic.
*Now.*
Lukas reached out and grasped Garrett's wrist.
The effect was immediate and terrifying. **Plunder** erupted from the depths of his consciousness like a dam bursting, flooding through his arm and into Garrett's body. For a heartbeat, Lukas felt the fire mage's power as if it were his own—the warmth flowing through trained channels, the careful control that shaped raw magical energy into useful form.
And then **Plunder** *bit down.*
Garrett screamed.
It wasn't the scream of someone in physical pain, though his body convulsed as if he were being torn apart from the inside. It was deeper than that—the sound of someone feeling a fundamental part of themselves being ripped away.
The flame in his palm guttered and died. The warmth that had suffused his aura vanished like a snuffed candle. And something that had been whole inside him... broke.
Lukas felt it flow into him—not just magical power, but understanding. The knowledge of how to reach into the space where a magical core should exist and kindle fire from nothing. The muscle memory of years spent training to control flames that could burn or warm as needed.
Garrett collapsed, his eyes wide with shock and growing horror. "What... what did you do to me?"
Lukas flexed his fingers experimentally. He could feel it now—a warm knot of power sitting just below his sternum, foreign but somehow familiar. When he reached for it, it responded eagerly.
A small flame danced above his palm, identical to the one Garrett had conjured moments before.
"I took what I needed," Lukas said quietly.
"You... that's impossible. You can't steal someone's magic. It doesn't work that way. It *can't* work that way."
"Apparently it can." The flame in Lukas's hand grew brighter, hotter. The knowledge stolen from Garrett told him exactly how to feed it, how to shape it, how to make it dance to his will.
Garrett tried to summon his own flame and failed. Tried again with the same result. The look of dawning realization on his face was almost pitiable.
"You took it," he whispered. "You took all of it."
"Not all," Lukas corrected. "Just enough to pass my awakening ceremony."
"But... but why? I would have helped you. I could have taught you—"
"Taught me what? How to fail like you did? How to end up beaten and discarded in an alley?" Lukas let the flame die and fixed Garrett with a cold stare. "I need power, not lessons. And you were foolish enough to provide it."
Garrett stared at him with growing understanding. "You're not just some scared noble brat, are you?"
"No," Lukas said. "I'm not."
"What are you going to do with me now? I can't use magic anymore. I felt it... break... inside me. You killed the most important part of who I am."
Lukas considered the question. Garrett was a loose end, someone who could potentially expose what had happened here. But he was also broken, powerless, and unlikely to be believed even if he tried to tell anyone about magical theft.
"You're going to leave Thornwick tomorrow, just like you planned," Lukas said finally. "You're going to disappear and never come back. And if I ever hear even a whisper that you've told anyone about what happened here, I will find you and finish what Marcus Ironheart started."
"And if I refuse?"
Lukas smiled, and it was not a pleasant expression. "Then you'll discover that stealing magic isn't the only thing I'm good at."
Garrett must have seen something in his eyes—some echo of the soldier he'd been, the man who'd killed and died and been forged in violence. The fire mage looked away first.
"I understand."
"Good." Lukas stood and moved toward the door. "There's food and water here to last until morning. Rest, heal, and then disappear."
He was almost out of the room when Garrett's voice stopped him.
"That power you stole from me... it won't be enough."
Lukas paused. "What do you mean?"
"Fire magic is common. Weak. If you want to make a real impression at your awakening ceremony, if you want to guarantee acceptance to the Royal Academy, you'll need something more impressive." Garrett's laugh was bitter. "You'll need to steal from someone stronger."
"I'll keep that in mind."
As Lukas climbed the stairs back to the main levels of the manor, he could feel the stolen fire magic settling into his body like a familiar coat. It was warm, comforting, and utterly his now.
**Plunder** had tasted power and found it good.
Nine days until the ceremony. Nine days to decide whether Garrett was right about needing something stronger.
Nine days to find his next victim.
In his room, Lukas held up his hand and watched flames dance across his fingers. The fire obeyed his will perfectly, shaped by stolen knowledge and fueled by stolen power.
For the first time since awakening in this world, he felt truly alive.
And terrifyingly, he wanted more.