Seven days until the ceremony.
Lukas sat in his father's study, reading through local records and merchant reports. The Baron was away on business, which gave him access to information he normally wouldn't see.
Lydia Brightmere was real. Twenty-two years old, unmarried daughter of a wealthy merchant family in Greyhold. Her father, Marcus Brightmere, dealt in rare magical components and had contracts with several noble houses. The family was rich but not titled—powerful enough to matter, but not so important that their deaths would trigger a major investigation.
Perfect.
The reports mentioned her lightning magic in passing. Strong enough to defend merchant caravans from bandits. Trained by a former academy instructor. She'd even been offered a place at the Royal Academy herself, but had declined to help run the family business.
All useful information. But what interested Lukas most was a detail buried in a trade dispute from two years ago. Lydia had apparently lost control during an argument with a competitor, accidentally destroying half a warehouse with a lightning strike.
Raw power without perfect control. Exactly what **Plunder** was hungry for.
"Young Master?"
Lukas looked up to find one of the servants in the doorway.
"Master Thorne has arrived for your training session."
*Right.* His father had arranged additional magical instruction now that he'd "awakened" his fire magic. Lukas had been dreading this—Master Thorne was the local mage who conducted awakening ceremonies and trained young nobles. If anyone could spot something unusual about his abilities, it would be him.
But there was no avoiding it without raising suspicion.
Lukas found Master Thorne waiting in the main hall. He was a thin man in his fifties, with gray hair and the kind of sharp eyes that missed nothing. His robes were simple but well-made, and he carried himself with the confidence of someone used to being the smartest person in the room.
"Lukas." Thorne's voice was crisp, professional. "Your father tells me you've finally awakened your magic."
"Yes, sir. Fire magic, like my mother's bloodline."
"So I've heard. Show me."
They went to the training yard. Lukas summoned flames carefully, keeping them smaller than what he'd shown his father. Just enough to prove he had the ability, not enough to raise questions about where such control had come from.
Thorne watched silently as Lukas demonstrated basic fire techniques. Shaping flames, controlling heat, maintaining steady output. All knowledge stolen from Garrett, but presented as natural talent.
"Interesting," Thorne said finally. "Your control is unusually good for someone who awakened recently."
Lukas's blood went cold. "Is that a problem?"
"Not a problem. Curious." Thorne moved closer. "Most newly awakened mages struggle with basic control for weeks. Their magic is wild, unpredictable. Yours seems almost... practiced."
*Shit.*
"Maybe I'm a natural," Lukas said, trying to keep his voice casual.
"Perhaps." Thorne's eyes never left him. "Or perhaps your magic awakened earlier than you realized. Sometimes power manifests gradually, so subtly that the mage doesn't notice until it reaches a certain threshold."
It was a lifeline. A perfectly reasonable explanation that Thorne was offering him.
"That could be it," Lukas agreed. "I have been feeling warmer lately. Thought I was just getting sick."
"Gradual awakening is rare but not unheard of. It would explain the control." Thorne nodded, apparently satisfied. "We'll focus on expanding your abilities rather than teaching basics. Your father wants you ready for the ceremony."
They spent the next two hours working on more advanced techniques. Thorne was a good teacher—patient, knowledgeable, and skilled at identifying weak points in a student's training. Under different circumstances, Lukas might have actually learned something.
But the stolen knowledge made most of the lessons redundant. He already knew how to compress fire into concentrated bolts, how to create sustained flames that didn't consume fuel, how to use heat differentials to create powerful wind currents.
He just had to pretend he was learning it for the first time.
"Excellent progress," Thorne said as they finished. "Your instincts are remarkably good. I think you'll do very well at the academy."
"Thank you, sir."
"One piece of advice, Lukas." Thorne's expression grew serious. "Power without wisdom is dangerous. I've seen talented young mages destroy themselves by growing too quickly, taking risks they weren't ready for. Don't let confidence become arrogance."
*Too late for that.*
"I'll remember that."
After Thorne left, Lukas returned to planning his next hunt. Greyhold was a two-day ride from Thornwick. He'd need an excuse to be away from home, supplies for the journey, and a plan for approaching Lydia without raising alarm.
The excuse was easy enough. He could claim to be visiting distant relatives, or investigating potential marriage prospects. Noble families were always forming new alliances.
Supplies would be simple. He had access to the family's resources, and a young lord traveling with minimal baggage wouldn't draw attention.
The approach was more complicated. Lydia Brightmere wasn't some broken drifter he could lure into an alley. She was wealthy, connected, and powerful enough to defend herself. He'd need to be clever about it.
But first, he needed to test something.
That night, Lukas returned to the training yard. He'd been wondering about **Plunder** ever since stealing Garrett's magic. The ability had felt different when he used it—more controlled, more precise than during his transmigration.
He held up his hand and reached for the stolen fire magic. It responded immediately, forming a small flame above his palm. Then he reached deeper, searching for **Plunder** itself.
*There.*
It was coiled in the depths of his consciousness like a sleeping serpent. Alien and hungry, but also... waiting. As if it needed something to trigger its activation.
*Contact,* he realized. **Plunder** required physical touch to work. That's why it had activated when he grabbed Garrett's wrist, and when Cassian had channeled magic into him.
Good to know. It meant he'd need to get close to his targets, but it also meant the ability was controllable. He wouldn't accidentally drain someone by brushing against them in a crowd.
Lukas extinguished the flame and headed back to his room. Tomorrow he'd make preparations for the journey to Greyhold. Find Lydia Brightmere, get close enough to touch her, and steal the lightning magic he needed.
Simple in concept. The execution would be more challenging.
But challenges were what separated the strong from the weak. And Lukas had no intention of being weak ever again.
Six days until the ceremony. Six days to become the kind of mage who commanded respect and fear in equal measure.
Time to hunt.