Chapter 1

Kate’s POV

— Nowadays

“If I'd known you were such a ridiculous old man,” I say wryly. “I'd have knocked you out as soon as I set foot in here.”

I didn't expect this dumb man to attempt to go that far, putting his hands underneath my clothes, so I didn’t had the chance to inquire him about what I wanted: an invitation to the upcoming magical creatures auction.

I rise, wiping the perspiration from my forehead and taking deep breaths in an attempt to soothe my pounding heart.

Unconscious on this room’s floor, with a bleeding nose and a bite mark on his lip, lies the owner of one of the grandest mansions in the area: Rod Glover.

This man is renowned for dealing in fey bones, which, when ground to powder, can be used in the creation of elixirs with various uses, including extending the human lifespan. Therefore, it's not difficult to imagine the ultimate fate of some of the magical creatures he acquires at these auctions.

Of course, he would be lured to spend money at these events, and that's why I pretended to be a lonely woman attracted to older men to get close to him and gain entry to the mansion.

"Okay, Kate. It’s work time." I mutter to myself as I tidy my clothes, adjusting my blouse. Talking to myself has become a habit over the years.

I exit the room, locking the door behind me, and sneak down the corridor toward the wig where I believe the office is situated.

I don't come across anyone along the way, not even the mansion's staff, although I know there are guards stationed throughout the gardens who may (or may not) cause me trouble later.

I also don't see any fey creatures, which must be stored, if that's the appropriate word to describe their situation, in another wig. But that's a good thing — for me, at least. This way, there's no one to detect my magic and report my presence as I walk in the shadows.

Rod Glover must be a man with very few enemies and worries, as when I finally locate his office, the door is wide open. This initially raises my suspicions, but upon entering, I find no signs of a trap, so I proceed to search through all the drawers of his desk.

The first items I came across were bags containing significant amounts of money, which I swiftly transferred into a leather bag I had concealed in my pocket. Additionally, I discovered a folder filled with documents confirming the acquisition of fey of different species, and then... there it is.

The envelope nearly slips from my grasp as I struggle to open it. It is sealed with a red wax seal, which I tear off. Finally extracting the letter from the envelope, I confirm that my efforts have not been in vain.

On the paper is written:

The Basinmond Hunters Guild is delighted to introduce the long-awaited product that many have dreamed of but never thought they would have the chance to obtain!

Thanks to our best Hunters, we invite our esteemed clients to the auction scheduled for the morning of July 20th. Join us and place your highest bids to acquire a true legend: The Wingless Black Dragon.

The event location is specified at the bottom.

That must be him, the dragon who rescued me that day.

Ever since the news of this auction spread, I've been searching for a way to attend the event without sneaking in.

The description is the same; a black dragon that has no wings.

I still vividly recall what I witnessed, and I continue to dream of that day; dreams that sometimes turn into nightmares where, instead of chasing my pursuers, that scaly monster changes its mind and comes to devour me.

I must be foolish to cling to such an uncertain hope, but I want to believe that this piece of paper is the key to carrying out the plan that has consumed my thoughts for the past eight years.

I tuck the envelope into my clothes and stealthily make my way to the office's balcony door, using the curtains to stay hidden. I peer through the glass, visualizing the path I need to take to leave without being noticed, then gently push the door to create enough space for me to slip through without opening it too wide.

I leap onto the parapet, then onto the roof's ledges, clinging to them as I climb up to reach the branches of a tree. It’ll serve as a bridge for me, as it is so tall and leafy that its branches spread above the trunk like numerous arms touching the mansion’s roof and its surrounding walls.

When my bare feet touch the rough wood, I feel more secure and confident than when the polished marble of the mansion was under it.

I take a deep breath once more and balance on the branch, trying to be as quiet as possible because just below the tree is a guard. He seems sleepy, but I can't risk waking him from his journey to the dream land.

Step by step, I finally reach the walls, and one last leap takes me outside the premises. I leave this place and its unpleasant owner behind. And thanks to the only spell I mastered during these uncertain years of moving back and forth, which will also be crucial on July 20th, Mr. Glover won't even recall me or our less-than-romantic encounter when he wakes up.

…

My head is pounding.

I had very little sleep last night and spent the entire morning traveling from my temporary home to the Basinmond Guild headquarters. I felt a surge of anger when I saw the invitation I had worked so hard to acquire being carelessly tossed into a box full of identical envelopes at the reception desk.

However, that anger quickly dissipated.

I've never been on an auction before, but I was correct in assuming that the place would be protected by magical enchantments to detect any intruders. I just never could have imagined that, after just a few steps, I would be confronted with so many horrifying things.

There's a corridor filled with cages, crafted from enchanted glass or pure iron. Inside them, fey of all the most well-known species are chained, gagged, or drugged. I want to be wrong, but I'm sure I even saw fey children among the prisoners for sale in the single-payment section.

This makes me very uneasy, sick to my stomach, and almost brings tears to my eyes.

Every inch of my skin crawls because the whole environment, even the smell of it, reminds me of my past, of when I was a child behind bars after nearly fainting from exhaustion.

Is it now... she who is behind bars, like a rabid animal? Is it now she the one who faints from exhaustion after the Pale King sucks the magic out of her body to strengthen himself?

Suddenly, I want to go away from this place. Walking through this corridor is like being dragged into that hell again.

I hug my shoulders and shake my head, attempting to push away the images taking shape in my mind.

Keep going, I remind myself. Don't look around. You can't do anything for them.

I cannot afford to feel fear or show compassion right now. My focus must be entirely on the purpose that brought me here: the dragon.

I'll save him... or steal him.

Don't get me wrong. The dragon I encountered in the past may have facilitated my escape and directed me to this city, but that doesn't mean he did it out of kindness to helpless girls. However, I won't be entirely hypocritical. After all, thanks to him, I was able to cross the border. But even though I stayed far from the Pale King's reach, my life didn't become more manageable.

Since gaining my freedom and arriving in Basinmond, I've been struggling to survive. I'm twenty-three now, but time has passed so slowly that I feel like I'm already in my forties.

I can't say the challenges I've faced turned me into something akin to a mercenary or a common thief. I don't have a home or a safe place to return to; any shelter or hideout where I can conceal myself and spend a relatively quiet night is what I've considered a "temporary home." But I've learned to infiltrate, to know where and from whom to steal, to deceive, and to be slippery.

And I've also learned about Secret Names.

The Secret Name is the soul’s essential core that encapsulates an individual's being. Every creature, whether magical or not, possesses its own, and once it is revealed, it bestows complete power upon the one who has discovered it over the one whose true identity is unveiled.

Destroying a Secret Name leads to the soul’s annihilation. By erasing it, it is as if the soul connected to it never existed; all memories and information about its owner will vanish.

Humans rarely know their Secret Names; therefore, they cannot be compelled to share them, only guess at. But magical creatures know theirs from the moment they are born. And do, they can be coerced to reveal it.

If I can obtain this dragon's Secret Name, regardless of his true nature, he'll assist me in rescuing my sister. Whether I'll use it against him is something I'll only know once I have it in my possession.

As I reach the corridor’s end and enter the auditorium, my eyes adjust to the room’s dim lighting.

There is a large stage ahead and numerous chairs arranged in rows. Many people are already seated, eagerly awaiting the evening's grand prize. But I see no dragon chained anywhere. According to my memory, he wouldn't even fit up there. Maybe he's somewhere else, just waiting to be handed over to his future owner.

I search for a seat for myself, making sure there's someone beside me; preferably someone quite wealthy.

I must have arrived here just seconds before the auction started because as soon as I lean against the chair's backrest, the few lights in the auditorium dim, except for one at the center of the stage, creating a triangular aura around the man who enters from a door on the left.

He is dressed in a white tunic, and his hair is tied in an elegant ponytail.

"Welcome, collectors," his voice is calm and smooth. "I'm immensely pleased to see this place so crowded. But I apologize if we're a bit late, although... Ah, we're a minute ahead, so we can start as scheduled, as always."

Arrogant.

The auctioneer continues: "You all know why you're here, so I won't waste time with exaggerated presentations for something self-explanatory. So..." He looks in the opposite direction of where he came from. "Gentlemen, bring him."

I furrow my brow, and I'm not the only one in disbelief, as murmurs start to spread among the audience.

"Bring him?" mutters the man sitting next to me. He has an old man's voice. I must be a magnet for old guys. "How will they bring an entire dragon here?"

That's something I also want to know how.

A second light creates another triangular aura next to the auctioneer.

From the shadows, a man with an eye patch emerges holding a chain.

I can hear a deep growl that sends a chill down my spine and makes my heart skip a few beats.

Did they really bring a dragon here?

"He's a bit stubborn, but all you need is to just use the right words to keep him in line." The auctioneer smiles at the audience, pleased with the laughter he provoked. I, on the other hand, remain silent and apprehensive.

I watch as the eyepatch-wearing man's lips move, probably uttering the dragon's Secret Name as he pulls the chain harder. Then, contrary to all my deductions, it's not the enormous head of a reptile that emerges under the illuminated aura.

Caught by a leash, with a furrowed brow and a lifted chin, a handsome man with horns as black as the long scaly tail whipping against the wooden stage is brought into view.

My breath dies in my throat.

"What a pity," the horned man smiles in defiance, his deep voice resonating in the auditorium, more powerfully than the auctioneer's. "I thought there would be more people here. I guess my popularity isn't as high as they made it seem while keeping me locked up in a cage as if I were a songbird. By the way, fair warning: I’m a bad singer."