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Prologue

The ritual was coming to an end, and the kid continued to smile as serenely as before. As if he still did not understand that he would die here and now, that his life would become another victim on the path to true power. Not his power. As if he did not feel pain and cold, did not feel how blood from the cut veins flows through the palms, collects at the fingertips and drops to the ground, right into the center of the multi-beam star.

The boy wanted to hit. By physiognomy. To erase forever that smile of his, which had been so annoying for three whole years. bastard. This student was the most insufferable of them all. But at the same time, it is so strong that it could be tolerated for another three years, if there was a chance to make this force faster, sharper, brighter. But such a chance, unfortunately, is not and never will be. If the training is not stopped in time, then the next student can surpass the teacher, and then it is not known who will become a victim during the transfer ritual.

Well, it's time.

"That's it, boy," the young-looking man said with satisfaction. You have reached the limit. You can no longer hold your element. Now she is mine.

And don't forget to smile victoriously. Watching the smile leave the face of another kid who wanted to become strong in as little time as possible. Boys are always in a hurry to live. It probably seems to them that otherwise they will not have time to do everything that they so want.

True, life proves over and over again that haste has never brought anyone to good.

"You're wrong," the boy said hoarsely.

The word sounded like a slap in the face.

The boy's smile became openly mocking, and at that very moment the fear and horror of the Thousand Islands felt it. More precisely THIS.

"It" crawled along the rays of the star, crushing and crumbling a clear pattern, scattering it in fragments. “It” replaced the white lines of talcum powder with bright scarlet fiery trails, which formed a completely different picture, changing the ritual. “It” swayed the flames on the wicks of the candles, painting them blue, then unbearably yellow, then blood red. And the native grayish shade, which Fear and Horror achieved with such difficulty, seemed to have died. Or was devoured by the elements. “It” sorted through the blades of grass in the clearing, rustled the leaves of the trees and fiddled with the boy’s long hair. "It" made the night air warmer, wrapped the boy in a cozy cocoon. And in the one who a moment ago felt like a winner, the wind was thrown dried up, as in a desert, forcing the person to breathe convulsively and back away.

“You can't run away. You have driven yourself into a trap,” said the kid. Melancholy and indifferent. Only a person resigned to his fate can speak like that. Acknowledged and reconciled.

- What did you do? croaked Fear and Horror, and almost fell from the push in the back. He could not go beyond the drawing before the end of the ritual. These are the conditions. The ritual cannot be interrupted. And it does not matter that now this is not the same drawing at all, and the ritual is not like anything he had seen before.

“The closing amulet,” the boy grinned and with naughty fingers, staining his still white shirt with blood, he pulled out a small pendant from his bosom — an interweaving of broken lines of bone, wood and silver.

- But...

The whole nightmare of the situation turned out to be realized somehow at once. Without saturation with power, this little thing would be just a cheap decoration imitating a ritual pattern. And in order to nourish such a craft with strength, it will take more than one year. You can't rush into this. Haste such a fragile little thing will not stand.

“You guessed right,” the boy said, after observing the overflow of emotions on the face of the teacher for a while. “I decided to do it from the very beginning. I didn't find another way to get rid of you.

“But… You will die too.” Closing the circle, you will kill yourself.

- I know. And what? - the embodiment of indifference to one's own destiny. “I would have died anyway, no matter what I did. Your students rarely survive. And if there is no salvation, your life should be sold at a higher price. Is not it? I think your life is a great price for mine.

The boy was right about this. The only student who survived the training was not strong enough to perform the ritual. And it was necessary for the next students to believe that they also have a chance to survive and become more powerful. This guy seems to be overly incredulous. Or too smart for his age. Lack of arrogance and self-confidence. He also loved his family more than himself. With talented children, this happens very rarely. Rarely. Wow, what a unique specimen.

"Aren't you scared at all?" Death is forever,” said Fear and Horror ingratiatingly. He still hoped for something. If the kid trembles, hesitates, loses his resolve, gets frightened for a moment, this weakness will be transferred to his amulet. Just for one short moment. But that's enough to get out of the trap.

- Who knows? the apprentice replied nonchalantly, shaking the pendant.

And then the fiery paths closed all the lines, and the clearing sank into a sea of ​​fire. The element burst free from the cramped cage of the human body, splashed like a wave, hitting the limiting contour, and joyfully began to devour everything that it considered its prey. Fear and Horror did not have time to notice how the candles flared around the unbearable student who managed to trick him. And, instead of instantly melting, at first they were covered with ice, then they blazed with a yellow flame, and then they began to grow, become thinner, weaving another pattern completely unfamiliar to the greatest of collectors. A pattern of soft lines flowing into each other, creating a cocoon. A pattern without the usual sharp corners and sharp strokes, keeping fire away from the person standing in the center of the cocoon. Then a moment passed, perhaps an eternity, and the boy, still wryly grinning, fell heavily to the ground,

The once-beautiful glade greeted the dawn with the smell of burning, the charred corpse of the great gatherer of power and the almost dead body of his student. The fog tried to cover it all up, to hide it, but the figure, wrapped in a dark waterproof cloak, lightly waved it away and resolutely stepped out from behind the trees.

“Oh-oh-oh,” the figure said sadly, in a quite masculine voice. “I told you it was a bad idea. Without me, you would have already gone to meet your ancestors. But now hold on. I won't let you go so easily.

Nobody began to answer.