Anastasiy felt sick. He could taste the bile in his mouth. His hand pressed against his mouth as the sensation of vomit invaded his mouth. His ears kept ringing. His head hurt. Flashes of light flooded his eyes.

"Give me the stones! I order you!"

"You are neither my king nor my prince!"

"Don't you care for your life anymore?!"

"I never cared about my life."

And the flames came to life.

"Anastasiy!"

He felt himself falter as two arms held him back. His respiration was wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath. His hair stuck to his face, as did his clothes.

"Anastasiy!"

He could hear his brother calling out to him but he didn't have the strength to answer. He couldn't form a smile that would reassure his brother. His legs were too weak to carry him. Slowly he was put on the ground by his brother who ordered something from someone. He tried to concentrate on what was going on around him, but as soon as his eyes fell on the stones, he could see the flames breaking out. A new wave of nausea seized him, as his brother tightened his arms around him.

"Breathe, Anastasiy. Match your breath with mine. Inhale... Exhale... Inhale..."

His brother's voice pierced the fog in his mind, slowly pulling him back to reality. Following Serafim's instructions, Anastasiy felt his breathing calm down as the waves of nausea lessened as he emerged from the nightmare. Weakly, he clutched his brother's arm, before trying to stand up.

"Stay down, Stacie. I've sent Anthelm to get Jason."

Serafim was relieved when his brother complied with his request. Gently, he took a handkerchief and began to wipe the sweat from his younger brother's flushed face. He dared not use magic, not knowing if the stones were stable. He was also worried about Anastasiy, whose eyes stared in horror at the shelves. And if he were honest with himself, he would say he felt the same way. After all, magic was both a blessing and a curse.

He had lost count of the number of children he had seen die while trying to awaken their core. He knew that Ewald had remembered the names of all those who had tried to take the path of magic, only to leave their lifeless bodies behind. He had judged that this should be his punishment. Serafim had never really approved of his twin's way of thinking, not understanding why they should punish themselves for being born into a family that had always given mages. But when he saw his shelves, he wondered if Anastasiy didn't share their brother's opinion.

A shiver ran through him again as he continued to look at the glowing stones. Serafim could feel the magic swirling inside. It was not the same as a core, but at the same time so close. He didn't know yet if this discovery was a good thing, but he could feel the change it would bring.

Emerging from the opening with hurried steps, Jason immediately moved towards Anastasiy, followed by Calogero. However, the butler froze when he saw the shelves, staring at them with nameless horror. Only when Jason called him did Calogero move into the room, never taking his eyes off the stones. He never turned his back on the shelves, even when he went to Anastasiy's side.

"We must get him back to the castle."

"N-no... I'm ok-okay," Anastasiy murmured weakly.

"Young master, do you remember what you promised your father?" Calogero asked, staring at him with his golden eyes.

Serafim watched his younger brother, who was biting his lower lip. Finally, he sighed and let Calogero lift him.

"Sera... There should be a-an... office over there," Anastasiy explained with difficulty, fighting the fatigue that was overtaking him.

"I'll go and check. Get some rest, Stacie, okay?"

A weak nod and Anastasiy fell asleep.

"We'll go back to the castle with the young master," Calogero said, followed by Jason.

"I'll call the team and take the stones to the Tower."

"Ask for an oath before you bring them here."

"Understood Captain."

After bidding his captain farewell, Anthelm left the room, leaving Serafim alone. Grabbing a lamp, he turned to the shelves and started walking in the direction Anastasiy had indicated. He couldn't stop his gaze from traveling from stone to stone. Each one glowed differently, some more than others as he approached them. He felt as if he were suffocating amid all these rocks and the further, he went, the more the feeling overwhelmed him.

After what seemed like an eternity, he arrived at the famous desk, framed by numerous shelves crammed with books. He was vaguely surprised to see the mess on it, which vaguely reminded him of Ewald's. Focusing on the desk, he immediately looked for any clues to the stones. Unsurprisingly, several drawers were protected by numerous spells, causing Serafim to grumble.

"Maou."

Immediately he stopped moving. A new meowing and Serafim bent down, looking under the desk. At first, he only saw darkness, before the darkness stared back at him.