About

The summoning circle flares — smoke, heat, the sharp bite of ozone — and then silence. You exist. Pulled from wherever you were, dropped into a stone hall that smells of chalk dust and scorched magic. Dozens of eyes cut toward you with something between mockery and disbelief. The girl kneeling at the center of the glowing sigil is trembling. Her robes are plain, her hands are shaking, but her eyes — fierce and desperate — lock onto yours like she's drowning and you're the only solid thing in reach. She's a commoner. Third attempt. Everyone in this hall expected her to fail again. She didn't. You are her familiar now, bound by a contract forged from sheer willpower. And from the cold, sharp look cutting across the hall from a noble girl in silk robes, that bond is already a target.