The halls of the eastern wing echoed with unusual sounds—ughter, music, and the clink of crystal goblets. A celebration was underway among the noble demons, some gathering from other territories for what the sves had learned was a coming-of-age ceremony. For the serving thralls, such events meant both opportunity and danger. More food preparation meant more chances to secure scraps, but drunken nobles were unpredictable and often cruel in their revelry.

  The half-demon boy had been assigned to kitchen duty, hauling water and washing dishes far from the actual festivities. But his carefully cultivated network brought him reports throughout the evening.

  "Lord Malzeth's son completed his first Blood Bond tonight," whispered Tarak, a thin sve responsible for collecting used goblets. He had slipped into the kitchens under the pretense of requesting more clean gssware. "That's why they celebrate. He's officially entered the noble ranks by bonding with a craftsman."

  The boy nodded his understanding. The Blood Bond—the ritual that allowed higher castes to share power with those below them—was central to demon society's structure. Through his studies and network, he had learned much about the ceremony's significance, though the actual ritual remained mysterious.

  "The nobles are getting heavily intoxicated," Tarak continued. "Be gd you're confined to the kitchens tonight."

  The warning proved prophetic. Not an hour ter, a commotion erupted at the far end of the kitchens. A red-faced noble had staggered in, dragging a young sve girl by her arm. She couldn't have been more than fourteen, with gray skin and tiny horn buds just beginning to emerge from her forehead.

  "You!" The noble pointed unsteadily at the nearest kitchen overseer. "Clear this area. I require privacy."

  The overseer bowed deeply. "Of course, Lord Drazeth. Immediately." He began shouting at the sve workers. "Everyone out! Move to the western preparation area! Now!"

  The sves scrambled to obey, all too aware of the consequences of hesitation. The half-demon boy moved with them but lingered slightly, curiosity overcoming caution. The girl's terrified expression and the noble's intoxicated state suggested something ominous.

  As the kitchen cleared, Lord Drazeth shoved the girl against a preparation table. "Lucky day for you, thrall," he slurred. "I've decided to elevate your miserable existence. A Blood Bond with a noble! Normally I wouldn't consider someone so lowly, but the ceremony has me feeling... generous."

  The girl trembled visibly. "M-my lord, I don't... I'm not prepared for—"

  "Silence!" he snapped. "The Bond requires no preparation from you. Only submission."

  From his partially concealed position near the doorway, the boy realized what was happening. The noble, drunk and inspired by the coming-of-age ceremony, had impulsively decided to initiate a Blood Bond with this random sve girl. Such behavior was almost unheard of—Blood Bonds were serious, permanent magical connections, typically formed with careful consideration of compatibility and purpose.

  The girl's fear was justified. An improper Bond could be dangerous, even fatal, especially when one participant was unwilling or unprepared. And this noble was clearly in no condition to properly control the ritual energies.

  The boy knew he should leave. Interfering with a noble was suicidal for a sve. But the girl's terrified eyes, darting around for help that wouldn't come, held him in pce. Something stirred in his locked memories—a sense that standing by while someone vulnerable suffered was wrong.

  Lord Drazeth pulled a ceremonial dagger from his belt. The curved bde gleamed in the kitchen's light as he made a shallow cut across his palm. Dark blood welled up, shimmering with unusual energy.

  "Your turn," he growled, grabbing the girl's wrist and extending her arm.

  She whimpered, trying weakly to pull away. "Please, my lord, I beg you—"

  "I said silence!" The noble raised his hand to strike her.

  The boy made his decision in that instant. Later, he would recognize it as a pivotal moment—the first time he had directly challenged the established order rather than working within its constraints. But in that moment, he acted on instinct.

  "My lord," he called, stepping from his hiding pce and bowing deeply. "Forgive my interruption, but I believe there's a problem with your chosen ritual."

  Lord Drazeth turned unsteadily, squinting at this unexpected intrusion. "What? Who are you to question me, sve?"

  The boy maintained his submissive posture. "I would never presume to question, only to serve. While cleaning for Magister Krovax, I happened to observe that Blood Bonds performed under certain... conditions... can have unfortunate consequences for the noble participant."

  This was a desperate gamble. The boy had no real authority to speak on Blood Bonds, but he had absorbed fragments of knowledge from his various sources. He now wove these together with convincing confidence.

  "What conditions?" Drazeth demanded, momentarily distracted from the girl.

  "The alignment of energies, my lord. The timing must be precise." The boy gestured vaguely toward a high window where moonlight streamed in. "Tonight's celestial position favors bonds between compatible elements. May I ask what your primary affinity is, my lord?"

  "Fire, of course," Drazeth said proudly, seemingly pleased to discuss his magical talents. "The strongest of elements."

  The boy nodded respectfully. "And the girl's affinity has been tested?"

  Lord Drazeth blinked, clearly not having considered this. "What? No, it doesn't matter. She's just a thrall."

  "With respect, my lord, untested affinities can react unpredictably during bonding. If she carries water alignment, for instance, the ritual could feedback against your fire nature. In your own magnificent power, the backsh could be... significant."

  Fear flickered across the noble's face. Despite his arrogance, self-preservation remained a powerful motivator.

  "What do you know of such things, half-breed?" Drazeth's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  "Only what I've overheard while serving the magisters, my lord. They discuss such matters freely, assuming sves cannot understand." The boy maintained his deferential pose. "Perhaps another girl could be found, one with tested compatibility? For your safety, of course."

  Lord Drazeth seemed to waver, but then his expression hardened. "No. I've chosen this one. The ritual will proceed." He turned back to the girl, who had remained frozen in terror throughout the exchange.

  The boy realized his attempt at distraction had failed. Desperate, he tried another approach.

  "Then perhaps, my lord, I might assist in the ritual preparation? To ensure proper alignment?" Without waiting for permission, he moved closer, positioning himself between the noble and the girl. "The correct pattern must be drawn with the blood before contact is made."

  This was pure invention, but spoken with such conviction that the intoxicated noble hesitated.

  "What pattern?" Drazeth asked, suddenly uncertain.

  "Allow me to demonstrate, my lord." The boy took the noble's bleeding hand, an act of incredible presumption that would normally result in severe punishment. But his confident manner and Drazeth's intoxication created a moment where normal boundaries blurred.

  The boy began tracing symbols on the preparation table with the noble's blood. The shapes were meaningless—a mixture of runes he had seen in Krovax's boratory and patterns from his own imagination. But they looked impressively mystical.

  "The recipient must be properly positioned," he continued, subtly guiding the girl toward the kitchen exit with his eyes. She understood instantly, beginning to inch away.

  Unfortunately, Lord Drazeth wasn't quite drunk enough to miss this. "Where is she going?" he growled, lunging forward to grab her again.

  In that moment, several things happened at once. The noble's sudden movement destabilized him, causing him to stumble against the table. His bleeding hand smeared across the false ritual patterns the boy had drawn. The ceremonial dagger cttered to the floor. And the girl bolted for the door.

  "Stop her!" Drazeth shouted, trying to right himself.

  The boy made a split-second decision. He grabbed the fallen ritual dagger and pressed it into the noble's hand, simultaneously moving himself into the position the girl had vacated.

  "My lord, the energy is already in motion," he said urgently. "The ritual must be completed or the backsh will affect you. I will substitute as the recipient."

  Drazeth blinked in confusion, his alcohol-addled mind struggling to process this rapid change. "You? A half-breed?"

  "Better an imperfect Bond than a dangerous failure, my lord," the boy insisted. "The ritual energy has been initiated. It must be directed somewhere."

  This was another fabrication, but the boy had gambled correctly on the noble's limited understanding of the complex magic involved in Blood Bonds. Most nobles participated in such rituals but left the theoretical aspects to specialized magisters.

  "Fine," Drazeth muttered, his momentary anger fading back into intoxicated confusion. "Give me your hand, thrall."

  The boy extended his arm, allowing the noble to make a small cut across his palm. As their bleeding hands pressed together, the boy felt an immediate change—a warm sensation spreading up his arm, followed by a strange tingling throughout his body.

  Lord Drazeth began reciting words in an ancient demonic nguage, presumably the formal incantation for the Blood Bond ritual. The boy recognized fragments from his studies, though much remained unintelligible to him.

  As the incantation continued, the tingling intensified. The boy could feel something flowing from the noble into himself—raw magical energy seeking connection points within his own limited reserves. It was overwhelming, like trying to channel a river through a small stream.

  Then, suddenly, something went wrong. The boy's limited magical training had not prepared him for the raw power being channeled. The noble's drunken state made his energy flow erratic and unstable. The improvised blood patterns on the table—which the boy had invented without understanding their potential effects—began to glow with an ominous red light.

  "What's happening?" Drazeth slurred, his eyes widening as the light grew brighter.

  The boy tried to pull his hand away, realizing too te that he had tampered with forces beyond his understanding. But their palms seemed fused together by the magical energy flowing between them.

  Suddenly, the blood patterns on the table erupted into brilliant crimson fmes. The magical backsh struck both participants, throwing them backward with unexpected force. Lord Drazeth crashed into a row of shelves, sending pottery and utensils crashing to the floor. The boy smmed against the far wall, pain exploding through his body.

  The doors burst open as nobles and guards rushed in, drawn by the commotion and fring magical energy.

  "What in the seven hells?" A tall noble with curved horns took in the scene—the blood symbols still smoldering on the table, Lord Drazeth groaning amid broken dishes, and the half-demon boy slumped against the wall.

  "The sve!" Drazeth shouted, struggling to his feet with the help of guards. "He interfered with sacred ritual magic! He tried to steal power through a Blood Bond!"

  The boy tried to speak, to expin, but one of the guards was already upon him, delivering a vicious kick to his stomach that drove the air from his lungs.

  "A sve attempting a Blood Bond?" The tall noble's voice was cold with fury. "This is not merely disobedience—this is sacrilege against the foundations of our society."

  Through the pain and growing terror, the boy realized his gamble had failed catastrophically. The noble was too drunk to remember or admit that he had initiated the ritual. And now, with multiple witnesses seeing the aftermath, there would be no opportunity to expin.

  "Lord Vargath," one of the guards addressed the tall noble, "what shall we do with the sve?"

  Lord Vargath studied the boy with contempt. "This requires special punishment. Take him to Overseer Vargus—tell him the sve has committed ritual interference, a capital offense." His lips curled into a cruel smile. "I believe the Pit has been empty for some time. A fitting pce for this one to contempte his transgressions before execution."

  The guards hauled the boy to his feet. Despite the pain, he noticed something strange—a subtle warmth flowing through his veins, a fragment of power that had transferred during the incomplete ritual before it backfired. Though the Bond had failed catastrophically, something had changed within him.

  This discovery offered little comfort as the guards dragged him from the kitchen. The Pit was spoken of in whispers among sves—a pce where troublemakers were sent to be forgotten, where few survived more than a week or two in complete darkness and isotion.

  As they moved through the corridors toward Overseer Vargus's quarters, the boy's mind raced with desperate calcutions. His network, his hidden knowledge, his secret practice—all might prove useless in the face of this punishment. Yet the strange new energy flowing within him suggested that even this disaster might contain seeds of opportunity.

  Whether those seeds could grow in the darkness of the Pit remained to be seen.