Chapter 1 — Chapter 1

A veil before my eyes, everything seemed shrouded in fog... I was struggling to breathe, gasping for air. What's happening... and where am I? And most importantly, who am I?..

My strength was waning, but then my hand brushed against a metal object, and as it scraped my skin raw, I slid my hand along it. Then came the blessed darkness, finally enveloping me.

***

"Do I have an heir?" A spirit appeared out of thin air, the owner of the abandoned house. The ghost wore an outdated suit, clean-shaven, with even a semblance of a hairstyle, his hair slicked back and neatly arranged.

He floated to the fence, behind which lay the body of a teenager.

"What to do? What?" he paced on the other side, realizing he could do nothing to help. There lay his blood relative, the only one who could inherit and send him to be reborn. The spirit then froze, making a decision, and vanished, reappearing in his study inside the house.

Though dead, his magic partially remained. He quickly scanned the scrolls on the table, muttering to himself.

"Yes, yes... that's what we need, a debt, especially a blood debt, will be perfect."

He returned to the motionless body, using magic to collect drops of blood from the grate and dripped them onto a scroll.

"I demand the repayment of the debt! The deadline is one year, to be paid immediately!" The spirit flickered nervously, knowing he might not get a response if the debtor was dead.

But the portal opened, spitting out a man in leather armor. He looked like a warrior, possibly a mercenary. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a short sword hanging at his hip. His long hair was tightly braided, and his face was familiar to the spirit. A strong jaw, furrowed brows, and an overly aristocratic face. Someone's grandson? Stopping over the boy, he paused and sniffed. A werewolf, perhaps?

"So... if he dies, my debt will be settled," the man chuckled, leaning over the body. "Damn demons... just a kid."

Sighing, he lifted the limp body into his arms and kicked the gate, which creaked rustily as it let them through.

"I'll regret this..." he muttered and walked down the path to the house. Inside, the awakened house spirit was already bustling, preparing a bedroom for the new master.

"Bring the master here... lord," the house spirit announced, meeting them in the hall. "Is he injured?"

"Poison... I'll prepare an antidote now."

The man laid the boy on the bed and began to strip off his torn, blood-stained clothes.

"Looks like they hunted him, chased him with dogs," the lord examined the boy's thin body and frowned, trying to guess his age. No more than fourteen winters, by the look of him.

Reaching into his bag, he quickly mixed the necessary ingredients from vials and, prying open the boy's clenched jaw, poured the medicine in. He immediately began bandaging the wounds. The boy had an unclear nature, possibly never having transformed before, but the beast was definitely sensed within that frail body. Running his fingers over the boy's head, the lord found no wounds there, but discovered something more interesting. Horns were starting to sprout from the boy's temples, ready to break through the skin any moment.

"No way!.." he exclaimed in surprise.

"Besides the debt oath, your ancestor made a vow of secrecy. The boy will either be killed... or turned into a puppet," the ghost hovered near the man.

"My grandfather couldn't die, tormented by an unfulfilled debt! I had to take it upon myself so he could pass peacefully," the lord grew anxious.

"I'm not to blame... I was killed," the spirit snorted, "so I wouldn't get in the way of the current kings."

"Everyone thought you were missing and had relinquished your duties..."

"No, killed... and I ended up here. They didn't know my spirit would stay here until an heir came. But no one knew about the side branch in our family, not even one crystal showed it."

"Perhaps the one who hid him knew... What do you want from me? I'm no nanny. I don't know how to handle children."

"Make him a warrior! He needs to grow up! You're a dragon, a warrior, help him mature." The spirit had guessed the warrior's beast.

"I'm a half-dragon! A half-breed! I don't have a second form..." the man's anger was visibly rising.

"And if I tell you I know how to fix that?" the spirit chuckled.

"An oath!" the lord demanded.

"Until he comes of age, you stay with the heir!"

"No problem!" The man slashed his arm with a dagger and spoke the words of the oath. "I swear to stay by his side until he turns twenty-one. To be his mentor in all things, to protect him!"

"I swear to reveal the secret of transforming into the second form to Lord Tyler!" the spirit said, and a mark of the oath appeared on him. Failure to fulfill it would mean being dispersed without the right to rebirth.

"I alone am not enough to protect him," the lord sighed.

"When he wakes up, we'll see who among the debtors is still alive. We need his blood to summon them."

"He'll sleep for a day now, but you must keep giving him the medicine."

"We need to sort out the food situation now. And decide on a room," the spirit Oliver grumbled and disappeared, reappearing a moment later, throwing a large jingling pouch to Tyler.

"Choose any room nearby," he told the lord.

"I'll buy the food, but I can't cook!" Tyler caught it.

"We'll figure that out too, we can always buy slaves!" the spirit waved him off.

"They don't sell them anymore, it's been banned for a hundred years," Tyler replied.

"Not even underground?" Oliver was surprised.

"Well, now they're sold at official auctions. As debtors..." he shrugged.

"Hmm... When he wakes up, go and buy some. The house spirit can prepare something in the meantime. You won't starve!"

The spirit vanished, and the man, adjusting the blanket and placing a hand on the boy's forehead, left. Only one thought plagued him now: once he gained his dragon form, his father would have to recognize Tyler as the heir. And his relatives would be drenched in blood when he ascended to the princely throne.

"The boy is delirious," the spirit said, reappearing beside Tyler's bed.

"I'm coming..." the man grunted, standing up.

Entering the sick boy's bedroom, he quickly mixed the necessary medicine and forced it into the boy's mouth.

"Please, no... Don't, I beg you..." the delirious heir pleaded with someone.

"Who could be having such fun now?" Oliver hovered over the sick boy.

"Well, the nobles can afford a lot... Like reinstating the right of the first night," Tyler chuckled, wiping the boy with a damp cloth. The wounds had already closed thanks to the ointment, now he needed to wash the blood off his body.

"What!? What about true mates?" the spirit was taken aback.

"Almost none exist anymore, and yes, they're left alone. With your departure, my king, the world began to crumble. Even mated werewolves have fewer children. And humans without a second form only have boys. Now, for every ten adult men, there's one girl. They introduced polygamy so at least there's a chance to be a husband and maybe father a child," the lord explained to the spirit.

"I warned that the magic of the world was tied to our lineage," Oliver declared grandly.

"Many have realized that now, but what good did it do? Everyone thought your descendants were gone."

"Perhaps the world itself hid the boy to punish us," Oliver sighed.

The nimble house spirit brought clean clothes and changed the bed linens. Tyler gave the boy another herbal infusion and covered him with a blanket.

"And what about the neighboring worlds? Don't they need strong husbands?" the spirit pondered.

"They consider us cursed. The worlds have closed off from us, and the gods no longer hear our calls," Tyler replied and went to his room, lying down on his bed again.

"So, we must raise the boy to be a worthy ruler! But we'll tell him that when he turns twenty-one," the spirit insisted.

"Yeah, we'll cheer him up..." the man laughed.

The next morning, Tyler went to buy food and everything necessary. The boy slept for over a day, waking up only in the evening.

"Where am I?" he looked around with a blurry gaze.

"You're home. I'm your mentor, Tyler. I'll feed you now," the lord said. A broth was ready, and nothing else was allowed at the moment. "What's your name?"

"Yan," he whispered and grabbed the cup of broth with trembling fingers.

"Rest, we'll talk about everything tomorrow," Tyler looked at the boy with a frown. Too slender fingers, a noble, handsome face, clearly not a peasant. Then how did they allow this to happen to him? What happened? The boy fell asleep again, this time without nightmares.

***

"Oliver, have you checked who among the debtors is still alive?" Tyler asked the spirit, who had been feeding the boy broth and boiled meat for three days. The boy was now moving around the house but flinched at every shadow, including Tyler himself.

"Yes, only two are left, but they won't do. Let them die in agony from an unfulfilled debt, traitors. The rest should be released in peace. I'll go to Yan, his magic is awakening, he can do this, summon the ones we need."

"And tell him the basics about buying slaves, you can't hire servants, they can't be bound by a death oath..." Tyler sent the spirit off with instructions.

"My boy, I need your help," Oliver got straight to the point, finding the boy and leading him to the study. "As my heir, you must release the debt spirits."

"Why release them if they owe a debt?" Yan rubbed his forehead in confusion.

"What good are they? Let them rest in peace..."

"Okay. Can I do it?" he asked, unrolling scroll after scroll with interest.

"Of course! I'll tell you what to do, and you need to direct your magic," the spirit gently coaxed the boy.

"How do I direct it?" he was lost.

"Were you never taught anything?"

"No... I didn't even know there was magic and spirits..." Yan looked down.

"I didn't think of that... So, we do need one of the debtors — a teacher. There was a rector from the academy somewhere..." the spirit pondered.

"So, how do I release them?" the boy finally showed interest.

"Just wish it and press your finger with a drop of blood to the right document, and that's it."

"I have a drop," Yan had already pricked his finger with a paper knife on the table and raised it, showing Oliver the blood.

"Press it to this one and say: 'I demand the repayment of the debt, immediately!'" the spirit pointed to the right one.

"Okay," pressing his finger to the scroll, the boy spoke the words. The blood was instantly absorbed into the paper, and another spirit appeared beside them. A long cloak covered his body, a bushy white beard covering most of his face, and white hair to match. Bushy eyebrows were raised in annoyance, clearly angry at being disturbed.

"You..." he pointed a transparent finger at the boy.

"Garron! Don't scare the child!" Oliver hissed at him. "I'll explain everything," he told the quieted ghost, who looked from one to the other.

"Continue, you're doing great," the spirit addressed Yan again. "Now, press your finger to each document the same way, but say: 'I release you from the debt!'"

"Okay," under the old ghost's muttering, Yan quickly went through the documents, watching them flare up and disappear.

"Well, your magic is there and growing, we'll start lessons tomorrow. But in the morning, you and Tyler need to go to the auction to look at slaves."

"Why?" the boy froze in fear.

"The house needs servants! It's non-negotiable!"

"But they'll be everywhere," Yan slumped, looking hunted.

"They're supposed to be," the spirit answered, mentally going through reasons why the boy said that.

"I don't want them! Will they come into my bedroom?" he nervously started wringing his fingers.

"If necessary, yes. I'll tell you how to handle it," Oliver nodded.

"And you too..." Yan added quietly.

"Okay," Oliver agreed calmly, setting a goal to find out the reason for this wish. "Rest."

When both spirits left the bedroom, the boy wiped his sweaty forehead with a trembling hand and uttered a strange phrase:

"When will this nightmare end?.."