Overseer Vargus stood at the edge of the training yard, yellow eyes fixed on the sve children hauling heavy stones across the dusty ground. His whip remained coiled at his side, though the threat of its use was enough to keep most thralls working at a frantic pace.

  But it wasn't the typical sves that held his attention. His gaze tracked one particur child—the half-breed who had shown unexpected resistance during the bathing chamber incident. Thrall 7249 moved differently than the others, Vargus noted. More efficiently. Less wasted motion. While other sve children struggled and strained, the half-breed had developed a technique of using leverage rather than brute strength.

  "Interesting," Vargus muttered to himself. The boy shouldn't have been able to complete his assigned tasks with his smaller frame and ck of demonic strength. Yet each day, he managed to meet his quotas.

  The overseer had been watching the half-breed for weeks now, ever since he'd witnessed those strange glowing eyes during the fight. There was something unusual about this sve, something that might prove valuable to an ambitious overseer seeking advancement.

  "You. Half-breed," Vargus called out, his deep voice cutting through the sounds of bor. "Come here."

  The boy set down his stone and approached cautiously, keeping his eyes downcast as was expected of sves addressing their superiors. He stopped at a respectful distance, hands csped before him.

  "Thrall 7249 reporting, Overseer," he said softly.

  Vargus circled the boy slowly, studying him from all angles. The half-breed was still small for his age, with only the slightest bumps where horns should be growing and skin that held just a hint of reddish tint. His eyes, when briefly visible, showed an unusual violet hue rather than the typical reds, yellows, or bcks of pure demons.

  "I have a special assignment for you," Vargus announced. "You will report to the East Wing after your shift. Magister Krovax requires assistance with organizing his boratory."

  The boy couldn't completely hide his surprise. The East Wing was where higher-caste demons conducted magical research—an area typically off-limits to common sves, let alone half-breeds.

  "Yes, Overseer," the boy replied, his voice carefully neutral despite his confusion.

  Vargus leaned closer, his massive horned head looming over the child. "This is an opportunity, 7249. Don't disappoint me. The consequences would be... severe."

  The threat hung in the air between them. The boy gave a small nod of understanding before Vargus dismissed him back to his work.

  As the half-breed returned to hauling stones, Vargus allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. If his suspicions were correct, pcing the boy in proximity to magical activities might trigger further manifestations of whatever hidden abilities he possessed. And if the overseer could be the one to discover and control a sve with unusual talents, his own position might improve considerably.

  The East Wing was a stark contrast to the sve quarters. Clean stone corridors lined with glowing magical sconces led to numerous chambers where demons of the Craftsman caste and above conducted their studies. The air hummed with energy that made the boy's skin tingle as he was escorted deeper into the restricted area.

  The guard leading him—a burly demon with four small horns and scaled green skin—stopped before an iron-bound door inscribed with glowing runes.

  "Magister," the guard called, knocking firmly. "The sve you requested has arrived."

  After a moment, the door swung open, releasing a cloud of sweet-smelling purple smoke. A tall, thin demon with eborate spiral horns peered out at them. His bck robes were covered in intricate silver embroidery that seemed to shift and move when viewed directly.

  "Ah, yes," the magister said, looking down at the boy with unnervingly bright orange eyes. "The half-breed Vargus recommended. Bring it in."

  The guard shoved the boy forward roughly. "Remember your pce, thrall," he growled before departing.

  Alone with the magister, the boy stood perfectly still, eyes lowered, waiting for instructions as he'd been trained. Internally, however, his mind raced with observations, cataloging everything about this new environment. The boratory was filled with equipment he'd never seen before—crystal vials containing swirling liquids, strange metal instruments, books stacked on every surface, and diagrams covering the walls.

  "Vargus cims you're intelligent for a thrall," Magister Krovax said, circling the boy much as the overseer had done earlier. "Says you complete complex tasks with unusual efficiency."

  The boy remained silent, unsure if a response was expected.

  "Can you read, sve?" Krovax suddenly demanded.

  The question was a trap. Reading was forbidden for thralls. Admitting such ability would mean severe punishment. Denying it would be safer, but might close off access to valuable information.

  "I recognize some symbols, Magister," the boy answered carefully. "Enough to identify bels on storage containers. The overseers found it useful for organizing supplies."

  This was a calcuted response—admitting to limited literacy while framing it as something permitted for practical purposes. The boy waited tensely to see if the magister would accept this expnation.

  Krovax made a non-committal sound. "Your first task is to clean these gssware items," he instructed, gesturing to a table covered with used vials and beakers. "They must be perfectly spotless. Any residue could contaminate future experiments."

  "Yes, Magister."

  As the boy set to work, Krovax returned to his own activities at a rge worktable covered with open books and strange ingredients. From the corner of his eye, the half-breed observed the magister mixing substances and occasionally consulting his notes.

  Though he pretended to focus solely on cleaning, the boy was memorizing everything—the bels on ingredients, the diagrams visible on open pages, the sequence of preparations. Without understanding the context, he couldn't make sense of much of it, but he stored the information away regardless.

  After an hour of mundane cleaning, Krovax approached again.

  "These shelves require reorganizing," he said, indicating a wall of ingredients and components. "I want them arranged alphabetically within each category. Minerals here, pnt matter there, animal derivatives on the top shelf."

  The task was clearly designed to test both his literacy and organizational abilities beyond what a typical sve should possess. The boy hesitated, sensing danger.

  "I will do my best, Magister," he said cautiously. "Though I may need guidance with symbols I don't recognize."

  Krovax waved dismissively. "Begin with what you can identify. I'll inspect your progress ter."

  As the magister returned to his work, the boy carefully approached the shelves. The containers were beled with a mix of simple and complex terms. Some he recognized from his secret reading, others were completely unfamiliar.

  He started with the obvious ones, creating a systematic arrangement that would demonstrate competence without revealing too much knowledge. When he encountered unfamiliar terms, he grouped them by simir characteristics—color, texture, container type—creating a logical organization system that didn't rely solely on reading ability.

  Occasionally, he would ask seemingly innocent questions: "Does this red powder belong with the minerals, Magister?" or "Should liquids be separated from solids within each category?" These questions served two purposes—maintaining his facade of limited knowledge while extracting additional information about the boratory's contents.

  As the day progressed, Krovax assigned increasingly complex tasks. The boy performed each one carefully, demonstrating just enough competence to be useful without revealing his full capabilities.

  By the end of the shift, the boratory was noticeably more organized. Krovax stood in the center of the room, inspecting the results with a critical eye.

  "Adequate," he finally pronounced. "You will return tomorrow after your regur duties."

  "Yes, Magister," the boy responded, bowing slightly before being escorted out by the same guard who had brought him.

  Over the following weeks, the pattern continued. Each day after completing his regur sve duties, the boy would report to Magister Krovax's boratory for special assignments. The tasks gradually evolved from basic cleaning and organizing to more complex work—preparing basic ingredients, maintaining equipment, and eventually assisting with simple aspects of magical experiments.

  The boy was careful to appear respectful and useful without drawing too much attention. He asked questions that a curious but uneducated sve might ask, absorbing the answers and connecting them to information from his hidden books.

  What neither Vargus nor Krovax realized was how much the half-breed was learning through these assignments. Each day in the boratory provided invaluable insights into demonic magic—knowledge strictly forbidden to sves.

  In his hidden sanctuary during precious hours of rest, the boy would record what he had learned, practicing the basic techniques described in his stolen books and incorporating new information gathered from observing Krovax.

  He discovered that the crystal sphere he had taken from storage was indeed a training tool for visualizing magical energy flows. By practicing with it while attempting the meditation techniques he'd observed, he began to sense the faint stirring of energy within himself—tiny threads of power that responded to his concentration.

  The progress was minimal. Without formal training or a proper Blood Bond to break his sve-caste ceiling, his magical potential remained rgely locked away. But even these small successes filled him with secret hope.

  One evening, as the boy was carefully measuring ingredients for a routine experiment, Krovax suddenly appeared beside him.

  "Your hands are steady," the magister observed. "Most thralls would tremble when handling rare components."

  "I wish to serve adequately, Magister," the boy responded neutrally.

  Krovax's orange eyes narrowed. "Indeed. You've proven quite... adequate." He gestured to a small crystal vial containing a swirling red liquid. "Do you know what this is?"

  The boy gnced at the vial. He had seen simir substances in his readings—it appeared to be distilled essence of fire elemental, an extremely votile magical catalyst. But admitting such knowledge would be dangerous.

  "A red liquid, Magister," he answered instead. "Important to your work, I assume."

  Krovax's thin lips curved into what might have been a smile. "It is essence of fire elemental. One drop contains enough energy to destroy this entire boratory if improperly handled."

  He pced the vial in the boy's hand. "Take it to the storage cabinet and pce it on the third shelf, second compartment."

  The boy accepted the vial carefully, recognizing the test for what it was. Krovax was assessing his nerve and trustworthiness with something dangerous. As he crossed the boratory, he could feel the magister's eyes boring into his back.

  With steady hands, he pced the vial exactly as instructed, then returned to his previous task without comment.

  "Interesting," Krovax murmured. "Most sves would show fear. Either you're exceptionally disciplined or exceptionally stupid."

  "I only wish to complete my assigned tasks correctly, Magister," the boy replied, eyes downcast.

  "Hmm." Krovax studied him for a long moment. "Overseer Vargus believes you possess unusual qualities for a half-breed. I've seen little evidence of anything extraordinary, beyond perhaps unusual composure."

  The boy remained silent, heart racing despite his outward calm. Had he failed some test? Was his usefulness at an end?

  "Tomorrow," Krovax continued, "you will assist with an actual spell casting. I require a specific energy signature for a research project, and Vargus has convinced me your mixed blood might produce useful results."

  This was unexpected and potentially dangerous. Actual participation in spell casting would put him in direct contact with magical energies, something that might trigger whatever unusual qualities Vargus had observed during his fight with Vrag. If strange manifestations occurred, his careful facade might crumble.

  Yet refusing wasn't an option. "As you wish, Magister," he said quietly.

  Krovax dismissed him shortly after, and the boy made his way back to the sve quarters, mind churning with possibilities and dangers. Tomorrow's assignment represented both opportunity and threat—a chance to learn more about his own capabilities, but also a risk of exposing how much he had already discovered.

  In his private sanctuary that night, the boy practiced control exercises from his stolen books with renewed urgency. If magical energies were going to be channeled near him tomorrow, he needed to be prepared to suppress any unusual reactions.

  As he worked with the crystal sphere, focusing on the tiny threads of energy he could now consistently sense within himself, he reflected on Vargus's persistent interest.

  The overseer clearly suspected something valuable about him—something worth the risk of pcing a sve in proximity to magical research. Whatever Vargus had glimpsed during that moment when the boy's human gaming instincts had surfaced, it had sparked dangerous curiosity.

  "What does he see in me?" the boy whispered to the softly glowing sphere. "What am I?"

  The question hung in the darkness of his hidden space, unanswered. But tomorrow might bring answers, whether he was ready for them or not.

  As he finally set aside his practice and prepared to return to the common sleeping area, the boy made a decision. If tomorrow's spell casting revealed something significant about his nature, he would need to accelerate his pns. The network of allies, the accumuted knowledge, the secret preparations—all might need to be leveraged sooner than expected.

  Vargus's interest had initially seemed merely threatening. Now the boy recognized it as something more complex—a catalyst forcing him toward whatever destiny awaited beyond the sve quarters.

  "I'll be ready," he promised himself, concealing his treasures behind the loose stone. Whether opportunity or danger arrived tomorrow, he would face it with everything he had learned.