The riddle called “a bodyguard for Virita” occupied Marius so much that he forgot to even think about the treatise. And how important is it, if he didn’t have time now, he’ll read it tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. In the end, if it were critical, the mentor would explain it right away.

And only when, with the last ray of sunset, together with Master Turvon, I stepped onto the perfectly round platform shining with the black fire of the night, I remembered another word spoken by the mentor: “a special bodyguard.” And, like a key in a lock, it clicked in my memory: “Mirror of the Night.” A ritual circle that does not require additional signs and amplifiers such as fire, blood or sacrifices. Only the shape, size and material work in it – fabulously expensive and rare, specially cut hellish glass. It is used to search for and summon souls that can linger in the world for a long time, and to install them in a suitable body. And, if necessary, to create this body.

Highest necromancy. So high that even among the masters, it would be good if one in a hundred would undertake it.

What is this that Vitor del Bornio ordered for his daughter?!

“You will be a conductor of power,” the mentor told Marius. “At the same time, you’ll look at a ritual that you’d better not get involved with for another hundred years.”

"You'll see"! How much will the conductor of power see if his job is to support the conductor of the ritual with his magic and not be distracted by anything else? After all, all the most interesting things don’t happen here. Master Turvon stood in the center of the circle and fell into a trance, and Marius could only stand in dead silence, strictly on the border of the circle and the lush grass, and stare at the lean figure, barely visible in the thickening darkness, motionless and literally soulless. The soul of the master necromancer, reflected by the Mirror and caught up in its dark radiance, wandered beyond the Boundary, looking for what he wanted. Marius would like to see how this search is going on! Yes, at least just to see what is there, beyond the Bound. The books I read were too contradictory to each other, describing the Edge and travel there. One might think that their authors organized a competition of liars, not for the sake of interest, but, at the very least, for a royal reward. And Turvon answered all the student’s questions with one answer: “You will see for yourself how the time will come, but for now it’s too early for you, I don’t teach.”

But you can secretly feel proud: even though the mentor is strong, the ritual would not have been possible without his help, an ignoramus. No matter how you look at it, you need a guide, someone who will serve as a beacon and an anchor, from whom a thread or a thick rope will stretch – as strong as you can – from the world of the living into the twilight of the Edge.

– Save-ee-ee!!! – a wild scream mixed with a squeal, which can only be emitted by a girl frightened to death, broke the silence into fragments. A lathered horse rushed out of the dense thickets of hazel trees, breaking branches; in the dim light of the moon, Marius clearly saw bulging, bloodshot eyes and flakes of foam on the skin shining with ripe chestnut. The brain noted that the horse was scared to death, no worse than the rider, the gaze, tearing away from the mentor, became attached to the thin figure in a tight dress, the body twitched treacherously to help the damsel in distress, to stop the racing horse. But he had to stand straight and watch only the master!