The atmosphere in the car was electric. It pressed against my ears like the weight of water ten kilometers deep.

  I sat with my head thrown back against the leather headrest. Eyes closed. But crimson sparks still danced behind my eyelids. The afterimages of magic were burning out my retinas.

  "Anya?" Adrian's voice broke through the cotton in my ears.

  I didn't answer. My tongue felt swollen and useless. The taste of ash filled my mouth—bitter, dry, as if I'd swallowed smoke. It was the smell of a bonfire where something living had been burned.

  The car swayed gently. We were going home. Home? A strange word. The Chernov estate, stuffed with Shadows and guards, had become my home. The only safe pce in a city that wanted to devour me.

  "Water," I croaked.

  The rim of a bottle touched my lips. Cold water seared my infmed throat. I took a greedy gulp, then another. My stomach spasmed, but I forced myself not to choke.

  "We're almost there," Adrian took the bottle away.

  I cracked one eye open. He sat beside me, tense as a coiled spring. In the gloom of the cabin, his features had sharpened. His cheekbones had turned to stone, betraying a fury he was trying to keep on a leash. Only his eyes gave away his anxiety. Darkness spshed in them—thick, agitated.

  He knew. He felt it.

  My body was dying.

  The euphoria from destroying the crystal and humiliating Eliza had faded. The adrenaline that had kept me on my feet for the st three hours had evaporated. And in its pce came the Price.

  It started at my fingertips. Beneath the gloves, the skin was burning. Not just burning—it was corroding. It felt as if someone had dipped my hands in acid. The pain crawled higher, up my wrists, to my elbows, gnawing into my shoulders. It flowed through my veins instead of blood—molten mercury, heavy and poisonous.

  I tried to move the fingers of my right hand.

  Nothing.

  I couldn't feel them. Only a dull, throbbing ache somewhere in the bone.

  "Anya," his hand settled on my knee. Heat passed through the fabric of my dress. "Your aura... It's unstable."

  "I'm fine," the lie came easily. Habitually. "Just tired."

  "Don't lie to me."

  The car braked. The estate gates opened. I saw the familiar outlines of the mansion in the headlights. Gray walls, gargoyles on the roof, dark windows. A crypt. My luxurious crypt.

  The door opened. A guard extended his hand.

  "I've got it," I grunted.

  I needed to prove to myself that I could. That I wasn't broken. That the "Bck Queen" who had just brought the city's high society to its knees could get out of a car without help.

  I stepped onto the asphalt. Shifted my weight.

  My knee buckled. It simply vanished, as if my bones had turned to jelly.

  The world tilted. The asphalt rushed up to meet my face. SMASH! My tooth, knocked loose by the impact, skittered across the courtyard stones. Could have been worse... probably...

  "Anya!"

  A jerk. Strong arms caught me, lifted me from the ground. I was crushed against a hard chest.

  "Victor!" Adrian barked. "Medics! Now!"

  He lifted me in his arms like a child. Easily. For him, it was easy. I had lost weight over these months of training, burning fat and building combat muscle, but right now I felt like an empty shell. My body weighed a ton, but there wasn't an ounce of strength left in it. Adrian's scent—sandalwood and freezing rain—hit my nose, overpowering the stench of ash.

  "It hurts," I whispered. I didn't have the strength to hold it back anymore. "Adrian, it hurts."

  "I know," he was almost running toward the entrance. Doors flew open before him. "Hold on. Don't you dare pass out. Do you hear me? Look at me!"

  I tried to focus. His face swam. The shadows around him thickened, reaching for me with tendrils. They didn't want to attack. They wanted to... comfort? Consume?

  "Inside..." I cwed at his shirt. My gloves slid over the silk. "Fire. It won't go out."

  "We'll put it out."

  Corridors fshed by in blurs of light and dark. Voices of servants, the stomp of boots. Someone screaming. Martha?

  Victor met us. He was already in a white coat, a portable scanner in his hands. His face was paler than usual.

  "Operating room," he commanded, barely gncing at me. "Fast. She's in core colpse."

  "What's happening to her?" Adrian id me on a gurney. The cold oilcloth seared my bare back—the dress had ridden up.

  "Necrosis of the magical channels," Victor's voice was dry, professional. But his hands shook as he carefully cut away my gloves. "Gods... Anya, what have you done? The old scars from training look like scratches compared to this. The skin has split down the entire length of your forearms, the channels are charred. She channeled too much 'antimatter'. Her body isn't adapted for that kind of conductivity. She is literally burning herself out from the inside, turning living tissue into dead coal."

  The light of the operating mp stabbed my eyes. Tears sprang unbidden.

  "Painkiller," Adrian demanded. He was holding my hand. His fingers were the only anchor in this sea of pain.

  Victor nodded and pulled out an injector. The needle touched my skin.

  A bright fsh. The syringe grew white-hot, the casing melted, turning into a brown puddle right in the healer's gloves. The medicine evaporated in a toxic cloud.

  Victor threw aside the remains of the instrument, shaking his burned hand.

  "Impossible!" he exhaled. "Destruction burns everything. Her blood is rejecting any structure. Even magic decomposes. I'm sorry, Anya. You'll have to endure it."

  What?

  I tried to lift myself up.

  "No... Please..."

  "Hold her," Victor loomed over me. A scalpel glinted in his hands. No, not a scalpel. A magical cutter. "Adrian, hold her. This is going to hurt. A lot."

  Adrian threw his weight over me, pinning my shoulders to the table.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear. "Forgive me, Anya."

  And then Victor started cutting.

  ***

  There was no pain. Only white noise. And the understanding that this was the end. I felt the bonds between the atoms of my body dissolving. I felt the "antimatter" I had summoned devouring its creator. It was fair. Power has a price. But I didn't want to pay LIKE THIS. Not now. Not when I had just started to win.

  It filled every space. Dispced thoughts, memories, fear. Only the scream remained. I didn't know if I was screaming or not. My throat was raw, but I couldn't hear the sound.

  I was burning.

  Every cell in my body was melting. I had been dipped in a vat of acid. The veins through which the magic of Destruction flowed had become wires carrying thousands of volts. The insution was melting. The meat was smoking.

  "Pressure is dropping!" Victor's voice came from another gaxy. "The heart can't take it. Adrian, I need more stabilizer!"

  "I don't have stabilizer!" Adrian's snarl. Right over my ear.

  "Then give her yours! You're her Anchor! If she goes into a Cascade now, we won't get her back!"

  Warmth.

  It didn't come from outside. It poured directly into my sor plexus. Thick, dark, heavy.

  Adrian's magic. Shadows.

  They didn't burn. They cooled. Liquid nitrogen against my napalm. Darkness flooded my veins, mixing with the Destruction, snuffing out the fire. It felt so good I moaned.

  "I'm here," his voice in my head. Not through my ears. Straight into my brain. "I've got you. Don't let go."

  I clung to him. Not with my hands—with my consciousness. I felt his fear. The icy terror of loss. He wasn't afraid for himself. He was afraid I would die.

  'Why?' the thought was sluggish. 'What use am I to you now? Empty as a beggar's purse.'

  'Quiet. Breathe.'

  The pain was receding. Slowly. Reluctantly. It snapped and bit one st time, but Adrian's Shadows were stronger. They coated the damaged channels, patched the holes in my aura, glued the torn reality of my body back together.

  It was more intimate than sex.

  I felt the beat of his heart in my chest. I tasted his magic—bitter chocote and night. I felt his exhaustion. He was giving me everything. Scooping his reserves dry to douse my fire.

  "Pulse is leveling out," Victor's voice was quieter. Relief? "Regeneration initiated. Adrian, enough. You'll deplete yourself."

  "A little more."

  "Enough! You'll die with her!"

  A sharp jolt. The flow of Darkness cut off.

  The cold returned, but now it was just cold. Not pain. Emptiness.

  I opened my eyes.

  Adrian's face hung over me. Pale as chalk. Bck circles y under his eyes, deeper than I'd ever seen. His lips were cracked. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose.

  He looked at me as if he were seeing a ghost.

  "Alive," he exhaled.

  And colpsed to the floor beside the gurney.

  ***

  I woke to emptiness, thoughts of yesterday, and my half-death.

  This time it was different. Soft. Sterile.

  A hospital room. White walls, the beep of monitors, the smell of medicine. I tried to move. My body responded with a dull ache, but no sharp pain. My hands...

  I raised my hands to my face.

  They were bandaged to the elbows. The white gauze was soaked in something yellow. Ointment.

  I remembered.

  The auction. The dragon silk dress. The destroyed vase. My triumph. And then—the fire inside.

  The door opened without a knock.Victor walked in. He looked like hell—crumpled coat, red eyes, three-day stubble. A tablet in his hands.

  "Awake," he stated without much joy. "Reviewing status?"

  "Feels like I was run over by a steamroller, which then backed up and did it again," my voice was scratchy.

  Victor grunted. Walked over, checked the readings on the monitors.

  "Close to the truth. You had forty percent necrosis of the magical system. Ten more minutes of dey, and you would have turned into a very ugly pile of radioactive ash."

  "Thanks for the optimism, Vic."

  "I practiced realism, Anya." He set the tablet down and looked me dead in the eye. "What you did yesterday... It was madness. Your gloves—their protection is rated for standard output. You put out enough power to bck out a city block."

  "I had to."

  "Had to die?" his voice rose. "Do you realize Adrian nearly burned himself out yesterday saving your ass? He poured enough Darkness into you to power an army of necromancers!"

  A pang of guilt pricked me.

  "Where is he?"

  "Sleeping. Next room. I pumped him full of sedatives, otherwise he was fighting to stand guard at your bed."

  I exhaled. Alive.

  "What about my hands?"

  Victor paused.

  "Necrosis halted. Scars will remain. Plus tremor. For the next week, you won't even be able to hold a cup of tea. Forget about magic for a month. Any attempt to spark—and you're a corpse."

  "A month?" I tried to sit up. The room spun. "I don't have a month! Eliza won't wait!"

  "You don't have a choice!" Victor shoved me roughly back onto the pillows. "Lie down. Or I'll tie you down."

  The door opened again.

  Adrian stood on the threshold.

  He was in a bck shirt and trousers. Looked better than Victor, but the pallor hadn't gone anywhere. He held onto the doorframe as if he needed the support.

  "Stop shouting, Victor," his voice was quiet, but commanding. "She has a headache."

  The healer rolled his eyes.

  "Two suicidal idiots. You deserve each other. I wash my hands of this. Checkup in an hour."

  He walked out, smming the door loud enough to rattle the frame.

  We were alone.

  Adrian walked into the room, sat in the armchair by the bed. He moved slowly, with the caution of an old man.

  "How are you?" he asked.

  "Alive. Thanks to you."

  He smiled crookedly.

  "I couldn't let you die. You still owe me money for the dress."

  Bad joke. But I appreciated the effort.

  "Adrian..." I looked at my bandaged hands. "Will it always be like this?"

  "What?"

  "The pain. Every time I use the power... will I die?"

  He was silent for a long time. Stared out the window, where dawn was breaking. A gray, rainy dawn, typical for our city.

  "Your gift is an anomaly, Anya. Normal magic is a flow. Energy passes through the mage, transforms, and exits. You... you become the energy yourself. You aren't a conduit. You're the source. And your body is just meat. Weak, human meat that isn't designed to contain a nuclear reactor."

  "So there's no way out?"

  "There is." He turned to me. A hard fire lit his eyes. "Control. Absolute, total control. You have to become more than strong. You have to become steel. We're changing your training. No more physics. Only mental blocks. You will learn to dose power in drops, not spsh it out in buckets."

  "And if I can't?"

  "You can." He covered my bandaged hand with his palm. Gently, barely touching. "Because I won't give you a choice."

  His touch was warm. And... familiar. That same Resonance Victor had talked about. I felt his exhaustion as my own. And his resolve.

  "What about Eliza?" I asked, changing the subject.

  Adrian's face turned to stone.

  "The blockade is lifted. The first shipments of elixir and food have already reached our pharmacies. Prices dropped. The people are celebrating."

  "And her?"

  "Furious. Rumor has it she destroyed her office." Adrian smiled predatorily. "You humiliated her publicly. You destroyed her favorite toy and showed power she doesn't possess. She won't forgive that."

  "I know."

  "But there's worse news."

  I tensed.

  "What?"

  "The Council of Seven." Adrian pulled an envelope from his pocket. Bck paper, silver seal. "Sent an official inquiry this morning. They want to know who you are. And what magic you used."

  "And what do we tell them?"

  "The truth? No. If they find out you're an 'Annihitor', it won't be mercenaries coming for you. It will be the Council Inquisitors. They'll either recruit you and turn you into a living weapon on a leash, or liquidate you as a global threat."

  "So what do you suggest?"

  "We'll say it's a rare form of 'Destruction'. Bloodline magic from an extinct cn." He squeezed the envelope, crushing the paper. "I'll cover you. But we need time. While Eliza licks her wounds, we have to prepare you for the next strike."

  "What strike?"

  "War, Anya." He looked me straight in the eyes. "Yesterday was a reconnaissance in force. The real war starts now."

  "Then let's not waste time." I tried to stand. My legs shook, but I forced them to hold my weight. "Teach me."

  "Now?" Adrian raised an eyebrow. "You can barely stand."

  "If Inquisitors come for me, they won't care if I'm standing or lying down. You said my body is meat. Make it steel."

  He looked at me for a long second. In his eyes, the desire to protect me fought against the cold calcution of a cn leader. Calcution won.

  "Fine." He nodded. "But first, you eat."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "Anya." His voice went steel-hard. "That wasn't a request. Your core is empty. If we start training now, you'll colpse. You need energy. Ordinary, physical energy."

  He pulled out a Sphere and pressed a few buttons.

  "Martha? Breakfast to my room. Double portion of meat. And wine. From the old reserves."

  ***

  We ate in silence.

  Adrian had moved me to his room. It was... strange. I'd been here before, but only as a guest. Now it felt different. More intimate.

  Ptes sat on the table by the firepce. Steaks, rare, fresh vegetables, gsses of thick red wine.

  My hands were still shaking. I tried to pick up a fork, but my fingers wouldn't obey. The metal cttered against the pte and fell to the floor.

  I cursed through my teeth.

  "Leave it," Adrian picked up the fork. "Sit."

  He pulled his chair closer. Cut a piece of meat. Speared it on the fork. And brought it to my lips.

  I froze.

  "Eat," he ordered.

  I opened my mouth.

  The meat was perfect. Juicy, hot. The taste of blood mixed with spices. I swallowed, barely chewing. My stomach responded with a grateful growl.

  "Good?" he asked, watching me.

  "Yes."

  He cut another piece.

  It was humiliating. And at the same time... thrilling to the point of trembling. The head of the Shadow Cn, the most dangerous man in the city, a killer and maniputor, was feeding me from his hand. Like a sick animal that was too valuable to let die. Or like a beloved woman?

  No. I couldn't think about that.

  I smelled his cologne mixed with the scent of roasted meat. I felt the warmth of his fingers when they accidentally brushed my lips. It was a strange, twisted intimacy that made my head spin more than the wine. I depended on him. Completely. And I... liked it.

  There was no carelessness in his movements. He did it with focus, as if performing a ritual. His eyes tracked my every move. The way I opened my mouth, the way my lips touched the metal of the fork, the way I swallowed.

  "Drink," he brought the gss to my lips.

  The wine was tart, heavy. It hit my head almost instantly, spreading warmth through my veins.

  We finished breakfast in ten minutes. I ate everything. Adrian barely touched his portion. He was "feeding" on me. On my reaction. On my dependence on him.

  "Better?" he asked, setting aside the empty pte.

  "Yes. Hands... shaking less."

  "Good." He stood. "Then we begin."

  "Here?"

  "Here. Too many eyes at the training grounds. And what I'm going to show you isn't meant for outsiders."

  He killed the lights. The room plunged into gloom. Only the weak light from the window and the coals in the firepce remained.

  "Sit on the rug."

  I tried to lower myself, but my legs gave way. My back felt alien—muscles refused to support my spine. I would have colpsed if Adrian hadn't caught me.

  "Easy," he sank down behind me, taking me with him. "Lean on me."

  I slumped against his chest. His arms didn't hug me, but rested on my knees, creating support. His body was hard and warm—a living wall between me and the world. Damn, it felt so... right.

  "Close your eyes," he whispered into the top of my head.

  I obeyed.

  "What do I do?"

  "Breathe. Slowly. Deeply. Imagine your core. You saw it before, like a sun. Like fire. Now forget that image."

  "Why?"

  "Because fire burns. You need the Void."

  His voice sounded right by my ear. Adrian wasn't touching me now, but I felt his presence on my skin. Cold. Darkness.

  "Imagine that inside you, there is no bonfire. Only a bck hole. It doesn't radiate energy. It absorbs it. It is stable. Absolute. Nothing can escape it unless you want it to."

  I tried.

  Behind my inner eye, crimson fme still roared. My Spark. It thrashed, roared, demanded release. I tried to compress it, drive it into a sphere, but it resisted, searing my mental barriers.

  "I can't," I exhaled. "It's... too hot."

  "You're fighting it. Don't fight. Accept it."

  Adrian's hands settled on my shoulders. Heavy. Ice-cold.

  "I'll help. Open your mind. Let me in."

  "Is it dangerous?"

  "For you—no. For me—possibly."

  I rexed. Dropped my shields.

  Darkness flooded into me.

  It wasn't like the Resonance. Last time, in the car, he simply shared energy. Now he entered me.

  I felt HIS consciousness. Vast, ancient, cold. He wasn't human. He was the Abyss, staring at me with thousands of eyes.

  'Look, Anya. Like this.'

  He showed me an image.

  A bck ocean. Smooth as a mirror. Beneath the surface—colossal pressure capable of crushing a submarine. But on the surface—calm.

  'Fold the fire. Drown it in the water.'

  I imagined my Spark. A white-hot sphere. And I lowered it into that bck ocean.

  Hiss!

  The sound in my head was deafening. Pain sliced through my temples. The water boiled.

  "Endure!" Adrian's command. He gripped my shoulders so hard I knew bruises would form. "Hold the image! Water extinguishes fire. Darkness absorbs Light. Bance. Find the bance!"

  I gritted my teeth.

  The ocean churned. The Spark resisted. It didn't want to die. It wanted to burn.

  'You aren't killing it,' Adrian's voice whispered in my head. 'You're hiding it. You're hiding the sword in its sheath. A sheath of ice.'

  Ice.

  I imagined the bck ocean freezing. Water turning to ice. It shackled the Spark, locked it into a crystal ttice.

  The fme flickered. Shrank. Became smaller. Even smaller.

  A tiny red dot inside an iceberg.

  The pain vanished.

  Only cold remained. Clear, transparent cold. My heart beat steadily. My thoughts cleared. The fuss, the fear, the anger—everything vanished. Only the goal remained.

  I opened my eyes.

  Adrian sat opposite me. His face was wet with sweat. He was breathing hard, like he'd run a marathon.

  "Did it work?" he asked hoarsely.

  I looked at my hands. Bandages. But beneath them, there was no burning.

  "Yes."

  I felt strange. Empty. But strong. Like a loaded gun with the safety on.

  "That is the 'Zero Veil'," Adrian said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "The base state for a mage of Destruction. You must be in it always. Twenty-four hours a day. Even in your sleep."

  "Always?"

  "If you don't want to burn out. Your power is growing, Anya. Yesterday's outburst was just the beginning. If you don't learn to hold the Veil, the next break will kill you. Or me."

  He tried to stand but swayed. I instinctively jerked toward him, caught him by the elbow.

  "You're exhausted."

  "I'm fine..." he waved it off, but I didn't let go. "Just... gave a lot."

  We froze. My hand on his arm. His breath on my cheek.

  In the cold of the "Zero Veil," I saw everything too clearly. Every fine line by his eyes. The scar on his neck. The pulsing vein.

  He was looking at my lips.

  "Anya..."

  A knock at the door shattered the night's peace like a gunshot.

  We sprang away from each other. Like schoolkids caught by a strict mother during their first kiss.

  "Enter!" Adrian snarled. The "Boss" was back.

  The door eased open. The head of security stood on the threshold.

  "Adrian Valerievich. Forgive me. Urgent report."

  "What is it?"

  "Observers report. A ship has arrived at the port. Private vessel."

  Adrian frowned.

  "Whose?"

  "No markings. But on board..." The guard hesitated. "Our sensors detected an Inquisitor. Access Level 'Red'."

  The room temperature dropped sharply. And it wasn't my magic.

  "'Red'?" Adrian repeated. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, sir. He has already disembarked. And headed into the city."

  "Into the city?" Adrian narrowed his eyes. "Not to the Council Citadel?"

  The guard shook his head.

  "No, sir. He's driving to the First Sector. To us."

  Adrian turned slowly to me. In his eyes, I saw the thing that scared me most of all. Fear.

  The Council of Seven hadn't waited for our answer. They had sent an Executioner.

  "Zero Veil, Anya," Adrian whispered. "Hold it. No matter what happens. Hold it. Or we're both dead."

  I closed my eyes. Imagined the bck ocean. The ice. And the red dot inside.

  The war had started sooner than we thought.