I:Scintilla

When Vegtam awoke, he found himself in a room that resembled a modern torture chamber; he was bound to a metal chair. People watched from the other side of a one-way mirror as he made futile attempts to break free. A voice came over the loudspeaker – Vegtam clearly recognized it as a pleasant female voice: "Vegtam, good day to you. I hope you won't spoil it for yourself or us, and tell us everything we ask." The Necromancer had no idea how to proceed because he didn't know what situation he was in or who he was facing. The female voice spoke again: "About a week ago, there was an attack on the HeroesWorld City research center. We believe it was you. Rare information about magic and some rare items were stolen from there. We are interested in knowing where they are?" The voice fell silent, waiting for an answer. It was simple and concise: "Go to hell." "That is incorrect," said the girl regretfully, pressing keys on the keyboard. Various devices began to "work" on Vegtam.

- You are sleeping in a safe infirmary at the academy. You think you are safe. But do you feel it churning inside you? Do you feel your mind being destroyed? It’s killing you from within. Why am I laughing? You are just a pawn in someone else's game, but you can become a queen; all you have to do is take one step... Do you want me to leave you alone? Very well, I will. You will remember me when you realize your insignificance.
In the morning, everyone was puzzled by Nira Drake's disappearance. All her belongings remained untouched; she had simply vanished. Lizard and Arandor felt the worst because they suffered not only from worry about their friend but also, apparently, from nightmares. "Darkness envelops us with its dirty paws," said the archmage as he entered the infirmary, accompanied by Hostor and another guardian. Lizard seemed pleased to see Magnus and jumped off the bed, immediately trying to persuade the mage to send a group to search for Nira, to which he categorically refused: "in this heat of battle, we must first remember not to become what we fight against." This phrase could be interpreted in different ways, but Lizard and Arandor were clearly dissatisfied with such an answer, and they spoke at the same time, forcing them to end the conversation and simply leave the room. The others merely glanced askance at Magnus, who then inquired about Silverfail's condition. The doctor replied: "His life is not in danger – thanks to healing magic and the latest technology, all injuries have been healed, but... his brain has suffered greatly. As mentioned earlier, an ordinary person's head would have exploded from such a blow. Only his skills saved him."

Vegtam's torture continued for more than an hour; by that time, he looked like a piece of roasted meat covered in ketchup. Soon, the torture stopped, and a man in armor entered the chamber. Through the loudspeaker, the familiar voice was heard again: "Loken, what about him?" The answer was brief and clear: "He's done for." - "In that case, let's get rid of him. Unfasten the body and take it to the crematorium. I'm going to make some tea."
Loken reluctantly freed the charred flesh from the metal, thinking how much he hated necromancy and the undead. Unexpectedly, the metal door of the chamber slammed shut, and the lock clicked. Loken dropped his dirty work and tried to open the lock. One attempt after another failed, and when he stopped, he felt a slight breeze behind him. Turning around, he saw Vegtam standing there, pieces of his flesh peeling off his body and falling to the floor. This disgusting sight slightly disconcerted the warrior, besides, he had no weapons, so he was in a worse position. A raging wind rose around the Necromancer; Loken could only hope for his skills.
Meanwhile, the girl walked through the building with a cup of tea in her hand. Sitting down on one of the soft armchairs, she gazed into the distance through the window, occasionally lowering her lips to the cup and sipping the strong, freshly brewed tea. After a few minutes, a young man approached her, wearing a badge with the word "Imaris" – "the boss wants to see you," he said. The werewolf finished her tea and went to the chief's office. Behind the desk sat a man in a dark suit, his hair slicked back, and a small mustache hidden behind a cigar. Next to him stood a man in a cloak and a mask over his mouth – he was motionless, like a statue. "So, what about the mage?" asked the boss.
- He died. We are currently disposing of the body.
- Which is it? The fourth? Hey, I'm talking to you! - the man jumped up from behind the desk and continued, waving his hands: "Don't you know the consequences? Besides important artifacts and data, that center also contained records of all our illegal activities. Why are you silent?" The man sat back down in the chair. "Are you speechless?"
The werewolf clearly didn't like this tone, and only the guard standing next to the boss prevented her from incinerating the rude man.
At that time, a battle took place in the torture chamber, which no one knew about or could hear because the room was soundproof, and the person who had been watching the events was absent at the moment. A knee strike to the charred head, again and again, Loken tried not to let his opponent out of his grip, but this did not last long; eventually, the air mage pushed the warrior away and then raised a hurricane; in a closed room, this was fatal. Loken tried to reach the mage and stop him, but the wild wind blowing stopped him, and he fell on his knees. Death was near... Suddenly, the airflow mixed with black smoke – the necromancer sensed another presence in this smoke – he saw only a black silhouette of the guest – it was even darker than this damned smoke...
When Loken woke up, he lay on a medical bed in the same building. The Werewolf sat beside him, apologizing for her absence and asking what had happened. As it turned out, Loken couldn't remember anything that had happened over the past week, as if someone had simply erased his memory.

The sky has always been interested in magical knowledge, which is why he became an archivist librarian. But besides that, he was also curious: a few days ago, he came across a torn page from Maya's tome, which spoke about blood magic: in their rituals, Mayan priests cut out organs from victims and then used them to treat their own ailments or the ailments of other people. In addition, with sufficient skill, it was possible to "breathe" life into a dead person, i.e., make the heart, brain, and other organs function again. The only condition for this was that the brain must not be damaged; otherwise, the ritual would not work. Nebo could not understand why this magic was forbidden because how many lives could be saved...
Today, he went to the archmage, hoping to get permission to take the Maya tome from the restricted archive. Explaining the situation, Nebo waited for an answer. Magnus had to disappoint the chronicler, but he also said that he shouldn't even think about it. Disappointed, Nebo returned to his work.
Lizard and Arandor watched the setting sun together. They hadn't been getting along very well lately, but the disappearance of their common friend forced them to put aside their differences... at least temporarily.

When Nira Drake regained consciousness, she immediately panicked, unsure whether the place where she was was so dark or if she had lost her sight. Struggling to crawl on the floor, she felt a cold wall in front of her. To the left – darkness, to the right – darkness, behind – darkness, all around – darkness... The girl leaned against the wall and quietly cried... But soon, crying turned into fear – there was a click of a lock in the door, followed by the creak of wood. Someone entered the room...