I walked through the Capital’s streets with one thought looping in my skull like a scratched record: “Where do I get information about my past?”

  Two students passed by, excitedly waving their hands.

  “Look what I scored! A pure treasure trove of knowledge!”

  “From the library?”

  “Yeah! They keep insane stuff in there…”

  The word library hit me like a shock.

  Right. Books.

  How the hell did I not think of that sooner?

  I stepped up to them. “Hey. Where’s the library?”

  They looked at me like I was an alien who didn’t know what a spoon was.

  “You… a village bumpkin or what? There. The domed building.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  I didn’t even bother listening to the rest.

  Snap. POP.

  Inside the library it smelled like old paper and centuries of dust. Behind the counter sat an ancient old man with a beard down to his waist.

  “Old man, si—”

  “Enough,” he cut me off in a creaky voice. “Just ‘sir.’”

  “Fine. Sir. You got anything about a mage with white hair and sky-blue eyes?”

  The old man smirked.

  “Who doesn’t know him? Sit down. One silver.”

  He brought me a stack of books.

  “A living legend. Shows up in different eras, always looks fifteen. Hair color changes, eyes change too. But the power… not human.”

  He sat across from me and stared.

  For way too long.

  “Take off your hood, young man. I want to get a good look at you.”

  I sighed, but pulled it down.

  The old man froze.

  His pupils blew wide. His face went pale.

  He stared into my black eyes like a rabbit staring down a snake and couldn’t look away.

  The room got noticeably colder.

  I snapped my fingers in front of his nose.

  “Hello, grandpa. You with us?”

  He jolted like he’d surfaced from a nightmare.

  “I… darkness… it showed me the worst moments of my life…”

  He staggered off, wobbling.

  “Yeah…” I muttered. “Emotional old man.”

  I opened the first book—

  and the door slammed open.

  A guard burst in.

  “Old man! There’s a suspicious black-eyed—”

  The old man silently pointed at me with a shaking finger.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I sighed. “Time to bounce.”

  I got ready to teleport, but the air rippled.

  She appeared.

  The Princess. Again.

  “We’re not finished. How dare you do that to me?”

  “Lady, piss off, I’m busy.”

  I tried to walk past her—she smoothly yanked a hair from my head.

  “Ay!” I snapped. “Are you out of your damn mind?!”

  She smiled like a predator.

  I teleported behind the library.

  “Whew…”

  And then the sky above the Capital split.

  A massive gray eye stared straight at me.

  A mark.

  “I fucked up…”

  A minute later, I was surrounded.

  The Princess stepped out of her carriage, smug as a cat that just ate the cream.

  “Into the carriage. Now.”

  “No.” I said flatly. “That thing’s anti-magic. I’m not an idiot.”

  She stepped closer. Too close.

  I tried to move back, but—

  She was beautiful.

  That wrong, dangerous kind of beauty that makes your brain glitch. Steel-gray hair, scarlet eyes, expensive perfume…

  Stolen story; please report.

  She whispered something—some binding spell.

  I blinked.

  “Seriously? You think that is gonna work on me?”

  The Princess stumbled back, shocked.

  “Why didn’t it work?!”

  Realizing magic wouldn’t hook me, she went for the ace.

  She grabbed a box of candy.

  “Look! Want some? The castle has mountains of it!”

  I swallowed.

  “…I want some.”

  “So easy,” she sighed, disappointed.

  In the carriage, I was annihilating the candy stash while she drilled holes in me with her stare.

  “Take off your hood.”

  I did.

  She instantly kinda… melted looking into my eyes, then jerked her face away.

  “Put it back on.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Greg. I think I’m fifteen. And you—”

  “I am the Princess—”

  “Blah-blah-blah,” I cut in. “Don’t care.”

  Her jaw tightened, but she held it in.

  “Do you remember anything? Where are you from?”

  “No.”

  My chest pinched. A hollow ache. Not a single memory.

  We arrived at the castle.

  Grandeur. Pomp. Guards. Carpets.

  They dragged me into the throne hall.

  At a long table sat the “red” family: the King, the older daughter, the younger son. All with fiery red hair and scarlet eyes.

  Only my “escort” was a gray crow among them.

  The King looked exhausted.

  “Daughter. Why did you put the whole city on edge?”

  “It’s Greg, Father!” She shoved me forward. “Take off his hood!”

  “Take it off, Greg,” the King ordered. “Look me in the eyes.”

  I did.

  We stared.

  One second.

  Two.

  Three.

  Dead silence in the hall.

  Then—on the King’s stern face—slowly, a single tear slid down his cheek.

  Everyone froze.

  The King… crying?

  “Sit down, Greg,” he said quietly—almost gently. “Eat.”

  I sat and immediately stuffed my mouth.

  “Daughter,” the King’s voice turned icy. “Why is the guest hungry?”

  “Father! He’s an unbelievable mage! We must recruit him into the army!”

  “What army, for fuck’s sake?!” I barked with my mouth full. “I’m not serving anyone! She lured me with candy! Tried to kidnap me!”

  The King slowly turned his head toward his daughter.

  “Is that true?”

  “He’s lying!” she shrieked.

  “Enough,” he cut her off. Then he looked at me. “Greg. Who are you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember. I live however it works out.”

  The King sat in silence, staring through me like he was looking at something old and painful.

  “Alright,” he finally said. “Stay with us three days. Rest. Eat. Then we’ll talk.”

  They escorted me to a luxurious room.

  I collapsed onto the soft bed, staring at the painted ceiling.

  “Three days,” I whispered. “At least the food’s good.”

  Greg is in the castle. He has three days. The King clearly knows something but won’t say. The Princess is pissed her recruitment plan flopped, but her interest in Greg just got worse. The rest of the red-haired family is quiet—for now—but they’re definitely watching too.

  I went out into the courtyard, planning to quietly teleport back to the library while nobody noticed. At the gate an alabard blocked me.

  “You are forbidden to leave,” the guard recited, staring through me.

  “What am I, under arrest?”

  Silence. Loud as a cannon shot.

  “Fine,” I grunted. “Didn’t really want to anyway.”

  Steel clanged somewhere deeper in the yard. Training?

  Snap. POP.

  I appeared on a balcony above the training field.

  Below, two sisters danced with blades.

  Lianelle—fiery, sharp, born with predator grace. Her strikes were art.

  Alexia (the gray-haired schemer)—stubborn, hardworking, pouring her whole soul into the fight, compensating for lack of talent with raw effort.

  It was a beautiful duel.

  But then Alexia’s sword flew from her hand and thudded into the grass. Lianelle put her blade to Alexia’s throat.

  The guards applauded.

  “Sister, you were magnificent,” Alexia panted, wiping sweat.

  “And you’re improving,” Lianelle smiled warmly.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  “I don’t know…” I said out loud. “Lianelle’s got talent, you can see it. Alexia’s just cramming. She’s got as much chance catching up as walking to the moon.”

  Every head snapped toward me.

  Lianelle stared like she wanted to incinerate me.

  “How dare you speak of my sister like that?” Her voice was quiet. Dangerous. “Want to come down and say it with a sword?”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “You—royal daughter—challenging a fifteen-year-old boy? Not a little pathetic?”

  Her eyes flared.

  “Take a sword,” she hissed. “Or are you a coward?”

  “Whatever.” I dropped onto the sand and lazily picked up Alexia’s sword.

  “Sister, don’t kill him!” Alexia yelled.

  “Relax,” Lianelle said coldly. “It’ll hurt. He’ll live.”

  A trainer waved a hand.

  “Fight!”

  Lianelle vanished in a flash and appeared right in front of me.

  “Seriously? You think it’s that simple?”

  I teleported two meters left.

  She spun mid-leap.

  I teleported again.

  For five minutes we played cat-and-mouse: she blitzed like lightning, I disappeared like I was bored and yawning.

  The crowd was losing it. Teleportation in combat? No chants? No circles?

  Finally I got tired of it.

  She lunged again.

  I simply stepped aside, letting the blade pass a millimeter from my nose—and tapped her under the ribs with the pommel.

  She collapsed, choking for air.

  I leaned over her.

  “Aww, what’s wrong? Why are we on the ground? Where’d the pride go?”

  Guards twitched to jump me, but Lianelle lifted her hand.

  “STOP.”

  Everyone froze.

  She got up, holding her side. Fire still in her eyes—now with something else too.

  “Tomorrow. Rematch.”

  “We’ll see,” I yawned. “Busy schedule. Sleeping, eating, you know.”

  I turned to leave—

  and Alexia grabbed my wrist hard.

  “Where do you think you’re going? We’ll find you anyway. By the beacon.”

  I snapped my fingers.

  The hair she’d ripped from me yesterday burned to ash right in her pocket.

  “Good luck,” I smiled. “Harder without GPS.”

  “Wait.” Her voice was quieter now. Not arrogant. “I’ll take you to the library.”

  “So I can ride in a gold carriage with sirens again? No thanks, I’ll walk.”

  “No.” She snorted. “I have ‘camouflage.’ Special clothes for secret outings.”

  “Ooh. Ninja mode?” I perked up. “Show me.”

  Ten minutes later she came out—

  in a luxurious, glittering dress, hair perfect, perfume trailing like a weapon.

  I just stared.

  “You call that stealth?”

  “Of course,” she rolled her eyes. “No one looks directly at pretty rich people—they’re scared. Works every time.”

  “Princess logic,” I sighed. “Fine. Hold on.”

  I grabbed her hand.

  Snap. POP.

  We were in the library.

  Alexia folded in half and puked loudly right onto the floor.

  “Uh…” I awkwardly patted her back. “Congrats on your first time. You’ll get used to it.”

  I walked up to the old librarian. Today he looked less traumatized.

  “Books. Same ones.”

  I sat to read. Alexia—green as a goblin—collapsed beside me.

  “You’re insane,” she croaked. “Normal mages draw circles, say formulas before teleporting! And you just—BAM!”

  “Stop whining,” I waved her off.

  I opened the first volume:

  “The hero with white hair and blue eyes appeared during the Great Battle…”

  “Mm. What Great Battle?” I asked.

  Alexia stared at me.

  “You can read but you don’t know history? Fifty-year war with demons. Half the world on fire. That hero wiped an army alone.”

  “Oh.” I nodded. “Missed it. Happens.”

  Next book:

  “The red-haired swordsman…”

  “Your ancestor?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” she shrugged.

  Last book: the pages were strange black leather. The text was knotted script. Elvish.

  It described a being.

  “The Destroyer.” “Human, yet not human.” Hair black as a moonless night. Eyes—abysses that swallow light. His gaze brings pain and oblivion… the terror the world itself feared…”

  I grimaced. “Nice company.”

  Alexia peeked at the page and choked.

  “You… you can read Ancient Elvish?!”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “The elves themselves forgot it a thousand years ago! How do you know it?!”

  “It just… happens,” I muttered.

  So I speak a dead language.

  That’s bad. That’s very suspicious.

  “Well?” Alexia leaned in. “Learn your past?”

  “No.”

  Snap. POP.

  I reappeared in my castle room.

  Too much information. My skull buzzed.

  I’d barely sat on the bed when the door flew off its hinges.

  BOOM!

  Alexia stormed in, red with rage.

  “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! You left me there alone! With a puddle of puke!”

  “Oops.” I scratched my head. “Forgot. You walked here, didn’t you? Legs work.”

  “You little freak!”

  “Little, sure. We’re the same age. But why freak?”

  She hesitated, staring at me. Anger slipped into embarrassment.

  “Well… not exactly a freak…” she mumbled, looking away. “It’s your eyes. It’s hard to look at them. It’s… scary.”

  “Got it. Not handsome, but not a goblin either. Progress.”

  “You’re stupid, Greg,” she sighed, sitting down beside me. “Scary stupid. But… interesting. And that pisses me off.”