The city had changed overnight.

  We moved through Solmaris’s lower districts, where the streets smelled of damp stone and burning oil. The lantern-lit alleys were packed with travelers, merchants, and pickpockets—exactly the kind of place where people didn’t ask questions.

  But something was wrong.

  There were too many patrols. Guards in blue-trimmed armor roamed in pairs, their hands resting on sword hilts. Bounty posters fluttered on wooden boards, some too fresh to have been there yesterday.

  I grabbed one as we passed.

  WANTED: THIEVES AND ASSAILANTS OF THE VALCAIRN AUCTION

  Charges: Theft of high-value magical property, resisting arrest, assault.

  Reward: 500 gold per head.

  Report all suspicious individuals to the city watch.

  The ink was barely dry.

  "They wasted no time," I muttered, stuffing the poster into my coat.

  "Means Valcairn's pissed," Ryn said, walking beside me. He looked almost amused—as if being hunted was just another game to him.

  Lena, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling.

  "We need to move. Now."

  She was right. The longer we stayed in Solmaris, the worse our chances got.

  But leaving wasn’t an option.

  Not yet.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Back at the safe house, we gathered around a small, flickering lantern. I laid out the stolen grimoire, its worn cover catching the dim light.

  "We have a problem," I started. "Someone's been collecting these grimoires. And they're not stopping until they have all three."

  Lena crossed her arms.

  "You said the Forbidden Grimoire is the last one. What’s in it?"

  I hesitated.

  How much did I tell them?

  Everything? That the Forbidden Grimoire contained the final equations of mathemagic—spells so powerful they could rewrite fundamental laws of reality?

  Or did I just tell them what they needed to know?

  I sighed.

  "It’s dangerous. The kind of magic that shouldn’t exist. And if someone completes the set… let’s just say this world’s rules won’t matter anymore."

  Ryn let out a low whistle.

  "So we’re dealing with someone who wants to break reality. Great."

  "Not necessarily," Lena said. "They might just want power."

  Ryn smirked.

  "Same thing, really."

  I rubbed my temples.

  "Either way, we need to find them before they find us."

  And that meant one thing.

  We needed information.

  The Undermarket wasn’t on any map. You couldn’t stumble into it by accident. You had to know someone.

  And luckily, we did.

  Sable.

  She had sold us the location of the grimoire in Bellmare, and now we needed her again.

  The market entrance was through a cracked stone archway, half-hidden in the ruins of an old aqueduct. A single torch burned blue, marking the way for those who knew what to look for.

  Lena led, Ryn followed, and I kept my hood low as we stepped inside.

  The Undermarket was a place where gold spoke louder than law.

  Stalls overflowed with black-market magic—bottled curses, enchanted blades, and scrolls written in forbidden tongues. Shady figures bartered in hushed tones, their voices swallowed by the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns.

  We found Sable at her usual spot, perched on a barrel, flipping a gold coin between her fingers.

  "Didn’t think I’d see you three again so soon," she said without looking up.

  "We need information," Lena said. "Now."

  Sable smirked.

  "And here I thought you just missed me."

  I pulled out a pouch of silver and tossed it onto the table.

  "Who’s buying grimoires?" I asked.

  The coin stopped flipping.

  Sable leaned forward.

  "You don’t want to know."

  "We do," Lena said.

  Sable exhaled, weighing the pouch before tucking it away.

  "Fine. But you’re not going to like it."

  I waited.

  Then she said a name.

  And my blood ran cold.

  "The one collecting grimoires?" Sable tapped the table. "Goes by Eldric Varos."

  Lena’s eyes widened.

  "Varos… As in—"

  "The royal court magician."

  Ryn let out a low curse.

  I gritted my teeth.

  Eldric Varos.

  A name I had written into this world myself.

  The man was the kingdom’s highest-ranking mage, a scholar who had spent decades studying magic theory. He was supposed to be loyal to the crown.

  And yet, he was the one hoarding grimoires?

  This wasn’t just a rogue collector anymore.

  This was treason.

  "Varos is playing a dangerous game," Lena muttered.

  "No," I said. "He’s playing the game."

  The Forbidden Grimoire wasn’t just dangerous—it was illegal, even by the kingdom’s standards. If Varos was after it, he wasn’t just breaking rules.

  He was trying to change them.

  And now, we were standing between him and his prize.

  "Well," Ryn said, stretching, "guess we’re about to ruin a very important man’s day."

  "More like his entire career," I muttered.

  Lena exhaled.

  "Then we’d better make sure we win."

  Because if Varos got to the Forbidden Grimoire first…

  No one would be able to stop him.

  Now it's a race against time.