Caspian's POV
The fist slammed into the door so hard the entire room shook.
"Rent, Drax! Now, or I'm throwing your stuff into the street!"
I pressed my back against the wall, holding my breath. The candle on my desk flickered. Shadows danced across the stolen magic book I'd been reading for the past three hours. My landlord, Mr. Garrett, had the worst timing in the world.
"I know you're in there, you worthless hybrid!" Another bang. The door's hinges creaked. "You owe me two months! That's forty silver coins!"
Forty silver coins. I had three coppers in my pocket. Not even enough for bread.
I looked around my tiny room. One desk. One chair. A mattress on the floor with more holes than fabric. And seventeen magic books I'd stolen from the academy library over the past year. Books that could teach me real power. Books that could change everything.
If I could just learn one more spell—
The door exploded inward.
Mr. Garrett stood there, face red as a tomato, veins bulging in his neck. He was a big man, all muscle and anger. Behind him stood two other men. Debt collectors. The kind who broke fingers first and asked questions later.
"There you are." Mr. Garrett smiled, but it wasn't friendly. "Thought you could hide?"
I stood up slowly, hands raised. "Mr. Garrett, I can explain—"
"Explain?" He laughed. "You've been explaining for two months, boy. I'm done listening." He nodded to the debt collectors. "Take his stuff. Everything. We'll sell it to cover what he owes."
"No!" I jumped in front of my desk. "Not the books. Please. I need them."
One of the collectors grabbed my arm. His grip was iron. "Should've thought about that before you decided not to pay rent, hybrid."
The word stung. Hybrid. Half-blood. Not pure fairy, not pure human. Not good enough for either world.
The second collector started gathering my books. My precious books. Each one represented months of careful planning, sneaking into restricted sections, risking expulsion if I got caught.
"Stop!" I tried to pull away, but the first collector twisted my arm behind my back. Pain shot through my shoulder. "Those books are worth nothing to you! You can't even read them!"
"Then you shouldn't mind losing them." Mr. Garrett walked over to my desk. He picked up my most valuable book—Ancient Magic Theory by Master Aldrin. A book that hadn't been printed in two hundred years. A book worth more than this entire building.
He threw it on the pile like it was trash.
Something inside me snapped.
Magic surged through my veins. Not the clean, controlled magic they taught at the academy. This was wild. Raw. Desperate. Blue light crackled around my fingers.
The collector holding me jumped back. "He's casting!"
"I don't want trouble," I said, my voice shaking. "Just leave the books. Take everything else. Please."
Mr. Garrett's eyes narrowed. "You threatening me, boy? You think your cheap magic scares me?" He pulled out a club from his belt. "I've dealt with plenty of hybrids who thought they were special. Want to know where they are now?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He swung.
I dove sideways. The club smashed into my desk, splintering wood. My candle fell, rolling across the floor. Hot wax splattered on my hand but I barely felt it.
"Hold him!" Mr. Garrett shouted.
Both collectors lunged at me. I threw up my hands. The magic I'd been studying for months, the spells I'd practiced in secret, all came flooding out.
Blue lightning exploded from my palms.
It wasn't strong. Wasn't controlled. But it was enough.
The collectors flew backward, crashing into Mr. Garrett. All three men went down in a tangle of arms and legs.
I stood there, breathing hard, hands still glowing with fading magic.
Mr. Garrett struggled to his feet. His face was now purple with rage. "You just assaulted me. That's a crime, hybrid. The guards will—"
A knock interrupted him.
We all froze.
Someone was knocking on my broken door. Politely. Like they hadn't just heard a magical fight.
"Hello?" A woman's voice. Old but strong. "Is Mr. Caspian Drax present?"
I blinked. Nobody called me "Mr." Nobody knocked politely. And nobody in the Shadow District had a voice that refined.
Mr. Garrett looked at me, then at the door, then back at me. "You expecting someone?"
"No." I moved carefully around the debris. "Who's there?"
An old woman stepped through the broken doorway. She wore a simple gray cloak, but her posture was straight as a sword. Her eyes were sharp. Intelligent. They took in the scene—the scattered books, the destroyed desk, the three men covered in splinters—and showed no surprise.
"Mr. Drax," she said, bowing slightly. "I have a delivery for you."
She held out an envelope.
It was made of cream-colored paper. Real paper, not the cheap stuff. The kind nobles used. And pressed into the wax seal was a symbol I'd only seen in history books.
The Velmora Dynasty crest.
My heart stopped.
The Velmora Dynasty. The royal family. The rulers of the entire Fairy Empire.
"There must be a mistake," I whispered.
"No mistake." The old woman's expression didn't change. "The letter is addressed to you specifically. I was instructed to deliver it personally and ensure you received it."
Mr. Garrett pushed past me. "Let me see that. Probably a fake. Some kind of scam—"
The woman's hand moved faster than I could follow. One second Mr. Garrett was reaching for the letter. The next, he was on his knees, gasping for air, the woman's hand pressed against his throat.
"The seal is real," she said calmly. "Questioning it is questioning the Dynasty itself. Would you like to continue?"
Mr. Garrett shook his head frantically.
She released him. He crawled backward, fear replacing his earlier rage.
The woman turned back to me and held out the envelope again. "Mr. Drax. Your letter."
My hands trembled as I took it. The paper felt expensive. Heavy. Important.
I broke the seal.
The letter inside was short. Only three lines in elegant handwriting:
Caspian Drax,
Your presence is requested at the Royal Palace tomorrow at noon. Come to the East Market Gate. Someone wishes to meet you.
Come alone or die.
The words blurred in front of my eyes. Come alone or die. Not a request. A threat.
"Who sent this?" I looked up at the old woman. "Why do they want to meet me?"
"I'm merely the messenger." She bowed again. "But I would suggest you attend. The Velmora Dynasty doesn't send invitations twice." Her eyes flickered to Mr. Garrett. "And I believe you'll want to leave this place regardless."
She walked out, disappearing into the dark hallway.
I stood there, holding the letter, my entire body numb.
The Royal Palace wanted to meet me. Caspian Drax. A nobody. A hybrid orphan from the Shadow District who stole books and could barely pay rent.
Why?
"Well," Mr. Garrett said, climbing to his feet. He looked at me differently now. With fear. With suspicion. "Seems like you've got important friends, hybrid. That letter changes things."
"It does?"
"You're meeting royalty tomorrow. Which means..." He grabbed my most valuable book from the pile and shoved it into my arms. "You don't owe me rent anymore. We're square. Forget I was here."
He practically ran out of the room, his collectors stumbling after him.
I was alone.
I looked down at the letter in my shaking hands.
Come alone or die.
Tomorrow at noon, I would walk into the Royal Palace. A place where people like me—poor, hybrid, worthless—never went. A place of power and magic and nobles who would look at me like I was dirt.
And someone there wanted to meet me badly enough to send a death threat.
I should run. Pack what I could carry and disappear into another city. Another kingdom. Anywhere but here.
But I couldn't.
Because deep down, beneath the fear and confusion, something else stirred.
Hope.
Maybe this was it. The chance I'd been waiting for. The opportunity to prove I was more than just a hybrid from the Shadow District.
Or maybe it was a trap that would get me killed.
Either way, I had to know.
I carefully folded the letter and tucked it into my pocket. Then I started packing my books.
Tomorrow, I would meet whoever sent this letter.
Tomorrow, my life would change forever.
I just hoped I'd survive long enough to see how.