Dave woke up with his face pressed against the cold, rough ground of the alley.
He blinked several times, disoriented. The world spun slightly, and a sharp pang shot through his head, right behind his eyes. He raised a hand to rub his forehead and noticed his fingers were trembling.
He remembered nothing.
The last image that crossed his mind was the moment he was eating his sandwich in the park during the museum field trip... and then, an absolute void. As if someone had ripped out an entire page from his memory.
—What...?
He sat up with difficulty, leaning against the alley wall. The smell of dampness and old brick filled his nose. He knew something important had happened to him. But no matter how hard he tried to grasp that thought, it slipped away like water through his fingers.
In front of him, a few meters away, stood the shop door.
He didn't know why, but his feet began to move on their own. A strange, almost magnetic curiosity pushed him toward that entrance. As if something inside was calling him.
He raised his hand to open the door.
—David Stattler! For God's sake!
A firm hand grabbed his arm before he could touch the doorknob.
Dave turned, startled, and found the flushed face of Mrs. Higgins, his teacher. Her bun was undone, and dark circles betrayed the last few hours of distress. Beside her, a police officer in a navy blue uniform watched the scene with his arms crossed.
Behind her, at the mouth of the alley, there was a group of more than a dozen children his age. Some looked at him with curiosity, others with annoyance at having had to interrupt the trip.
—I've been looking for you for over two hours! —the teacher's voice rose, a mix of relief and contained anger—. Where the hell had you disappeared to?
Dave opened his mouth, but only an unintelligible stammer came out.
—I... I don't... I don't know, Mrs. Higgins. I don't remember...
—You don't remember? —the woman glared at him—. You vanished from the park without telling anyone! We had to cancel the whole museum trip!
The officer stepped forward and placed a hand on the teacher's shoulder.
—Ma'am, let me handle this.
The woman reluctantly released Dave's arm, though she kept shooting him disapproving looks. The agent crouched down to the boy's height and examined him with professional eyes.
—Are you feeling okay, son? Did anyone hurt you?
Dave shook his head, still dazed.
—No... I don't know. My head hurts, that's all.
The officer nodded and gently took him by the elbow.
—Come with me. We'll take you home, and we'll figure out what happened.
As he guided him toward the patrol car parked on the sidewalk, Dave cast one last look back. The shop door was still there, closed, with dusty signs stuck to the glass. For a moment he thought he saw something move inside, but when he blinked, there were only shadows.
Then he turned around and walked away, not knowing that he would never remember what had happened there.
---
Inside the urn, there was no light.
The dark dimension was an absolute void, a space without walls or floor where two silhouettes floated in complete weightlessness. Balthazar and Horvath, trapped together in that abyss, confronted each other almost immediately.
—This is your fault! —Horvath growled, throwing himself at his former companion with his fists raised.
Without his sword, he couldn't channel his magic properly. Every punch he tried to land was blocked by Balthazar, who kept the advantage because he still had his ring to channel his magic.
—My fault? —Balthazar replied, dodging a right hook and landing a blow to the stomach—. You should have stayed inside that damn matryoshka.
Horvath fell backward, floating uncontrollably, and used the momentum to kick Balthazar in the chest. They separated, spinning in the void like two fish in a fishbowl.
—That damned white-haired kid who attacked us… he sealed us as if we were two clumsy apprentices.
—I saw him.
Balthazar opened his eyes and sat up in the void. His gaze was serious.
—I don't know any sorcerer that young with that kind of power. And I don't recognize the magic he used either. It looked like some sort of telekinesis.
Horvath snorted.
—Whatever it is. I don't plan on staying here forever.
He lunged at Balthazar with a roar, his hands outstretched to channel his magic… but the absence of his sword, which he had used as a channeler for centuries, drastically reduced his power. A torrent of energy burst from his fingers, but it was too weak and easy to deflect.
Balthazar raised a hand and blocked the attack effortlessly, sending Horvath flying backward.
—Without your sword, you're no match for me, Horvath. Surrender.
—Shut up!
Horvath tried to attack again, and again he was repelled.
The struggle went on for minutes that felt like hours. But in the end, exhausted and with bloody knuckles, they realized something: inside there, there was no one else. Just the two of them. And if they kept this up, they would never get out.
—Stop —said Horvath, raising a palm—. Truce.
Balthazar looked at him distrustfully, but he also stopped his fists.
—Speak.
—We both want to get out of here —Horvath pointed out, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip—. And we're not going to achieve that by fighting like animals.
Silence spread between them. Then Balthazar nodded.
—Temporary truce. Until we're out.
They shook hands reluctantly, and over the next few hours, both sorcerers took turns bombarding the seal's walls with whatever magic they had left. They cast spell after spell, focusing on a single point, wearing it down with the intention of creating a crack in the invisible barrier that kept them trapped.
They went on like that for an entire day, casting spells without rest.
Until a small crack appeared in the void.
A thin, almost imperceptible line, but real.
—Now! —Horvath shouted.
Both concentrated the rest of their power on that point. The crack grew, split, and finally opened wide enough for them to escape.
Their bodies dematerialized, becoming two swirling piles of black ash that crossed the spatial breach and rematerialized inside the shop.
The ashes spun in the air, rose, and in a second transformed back into the two sorcerers. Balthazar and Horvath fell against each other, colliding head-on in the middle of the wrecked shop, rolling on the floor among the remains of display cases and broken objects.
They separated immediately, getting to their feet with abrupt movements.
Horvath reached toward his belt out of pure reflex, searching for the sword that wasn't there. He cursed under his breath.
—Without my sword… —he murmured, and his fingers trembled as he tried to channel his magic directly.
He managed to form a ball of energy, but it was weak and unstable. Nothing like the devastating power he could unleash with his channeler.
Balthazar didn't waste time.
Taking advantage of the advantage, he thrust his hand forward, and a stream of golden light enveloped Horvath before he could react.
—No! Balthazar, wait!
—Truce is over —the other replied coldly.
The light intensified, and Horvath's body began to compress like a crumpled piece of paper.
In less than a second, he had disappeared.
On the shop floor, the matryoshka that had originally kept him sealed before Dave accidentally freed it emitted a faint glow. Its surface heated up for an instant, then became inert again.
Horvath was sealed inside once more.
Balthazar stood silent for a moment, catching his breath. Then he looked around.
The shop was still in the same wrecked state they had left it. Broken display cases, scattered scrolls, dust still floating in the air.
—Who the hell were you…? —Balthazar murmured to himself, frowning.
He stood still in the middle of the chaos, his gaze lost somewhere in the distance.
He had to find out what had happened.
How a six-year-old child had appeared out of nowhere, defeated them with astonishing ease, and sealed them away like annoying flies.
That kid had been prepared enough and had seized the perfect moment to seal them.
—I'm going to find out —he said quietly, clenching his fists—. No matter the cost.