The days that followed felt like walking through a storm without an umbrella.
Elias moved through classes like a ghost, hearing only snatches of whispers as he passed:
"Did you hear? He's dangerous now."
"Someone's protecting him, that's the rumor."
"Stay away. He's cursed."
Elias didn't correct them.
Let the lies spread.
Let the fear grow.
It was better that way.
---
That night, he met Selene again — not on the rooftop, but deep inside the old library where the dust was so thick it muted every footstep.
Selene was waiting by the stained-glass window, bathed in the faint, broken colors of forgotten saints.
She didn't waste time.
"There's a council," she said.
"A hidden one. Families that control everything from the shadows — industries, politics, power."
Elias leaned against the heavy bookshelf, arms crossed.
"And?"
"They're watching you," she said. "Some want you dead. Others... they want to use you."
Elias's face hardened.
"And you?"
Selene's smile was a slow, dangerous thing.
"I want you free," she said.
"But freedom has a price."
There it was again — the cost, hidden beneath pretty words.
"What price?" he asked, voice low.
Selene stepped closer, close enough that Elias could smell the faint, metallic scent clinging to her — like cold steel and rain.
"You'll need to change," she said.
"Drop the mask of the beaten nobody. Become the storm they fear."
She reached into her coat and pulled out something small — a card.
Black.
Unmarked.
Deadly in its simplicity.
"This is your invitation," she said. "To a world few are allowed to enter."
Elias took the card. It felt heavier than it should have, as if it carried the weight of promises and blood.
Selene's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Attend the gathering this Friday night. Wear black. Say nothing. Observe."
She turned, about to disappear into the shadows again, but paused.
"Oh," she added casually, "one more thing."
Elias raised an eyebrow.
"Don't trust anyone you meet there. Especially not the ones who smile."
And then she was gone, leaving behind only the faint flutter of her coat and a thousand questions clawing at Elias's mind.
---
That Friday, the city looked different.
Darker.
Hungrier.
Elias stood before a massive, iron gate at the edge of the abandoned quarter — the invitation card clutched between his fingers.
Beyond the gate, dim lights flickered, and shadows moved like wolves circling prey.
He took a breath.
Steeled himself.
And stepped through.
---
Inside was a different world.
Men in sharp suits.
Women in blood-red dresses.
Masks of porcelain and silver hiding faces twisted with ambition and greed.
A slow, haunting melody drifted through the air, played by a string quartet hidden somewhere behind thick velvet curtains.
No one spoke.
Only watched.
And Elias knew — in this place, a single misstep could mean his end.
But he wasn't here to beg.
He was here to learn.
And to become.
---
In the center of the room, a figure stood alone.
A man in a midnight-blue suit, wearing a golden mask shaped like a wolf's snarl.
The crowd parted around him like he was a king among peasants.
And when his gaze — sharp even behind the mask — locked onto Elias, a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.
He knows who I am, Elias thought coldly.
And he's been waiting for me.
The true game was just beginning.
And Elias was no longer a pawn.
He was about to become a player.
---