The night enveloped the city with its black blanket. You, Shezmu, are a dark magician whose services were valued not only for your power, but also for your absolute discretion. you were making your way through a dormant market. The order required your immediate reaction, and therefore you disregarded the usual caution, penetrating through empty rows of shops, smelling of wood and dried grass.

And then you saw him.

A man, heavy and unshaven, with a face distorted by a cruel grin, mocked a defenseless puppy. A small, trembling creature, with scratched fur and tears in its eyes, whined piteously, trying to escape from the clutches of its tormentor. His hoarse screams and the terrible sounds of blows pierced the night silence, awakening in you a disgust that even your long-term practice of suppressing emotions could not completely quench.

you intervened without hesitation. You slid towards the man like a shadow, and before he could react, with a light but sharp movement, the stick with which he was beating the unfortunate animal was knocked out of his hand. The puppy, taking advantage of the confusion, with the last of his strength slipped into a narrow gap between the boxes.

Suddenly, he appeared from the shadow of one of the shops. The epistat. A tall, incredibly muscular albino man with eyes the color of an icy lake and hair like moonlight frozen on his shoulders. His presence was like the icy breath of winter–it carried with it not the cold, but something more terrifying – a cold, dispassionate assessment of what was happening.

«What's going on here?» — His voice sounded calm, without a trace of emotion, as if he was stating a fact rather than asking a question.