That dream... I can recall it as vividly as if I had dreamt it yesterday, and I believe it will remain etched in my memory with all its wealth of details for the rest of my life. It was a hot summer night, and, tormented by longing for Rasha, I couldn''t fall asleep until dawn began to break. And then I dreamed...
I was running through a dense pine forest; the strong scent of resin, the ground so soft it felt like silk, and the mist that deepened the usual darkness of such gloomy woods even in the middle of the sunniest day created around me a realm that seemed to be both unreal and magical. I suddenly stopped in a small clearing where the vertical rays of the noonday sun barely managed to thin the damp mist; I stopped because I heard my name being called by many overlapping voices! Frightened, I looked around, and then I saw it...
Through the heavy mist, a raven, perched on a gnarled branch, turned to look at me with an eye that gleamed like a shard of midnight. A low voice, flowing like honey laced with venom, whispered my name: Elsie... And in that moment, I knew—the shadows had chosen me; I was filled with fear and amazed at the same time. And I ran—I ran until the shadows of the day grew longer, while the raven laughed behind me...
Then suddenly was night and, under the high starry sky, a woman of peculiar appearance and exquisite beauty stood tall, her presence commanding, like the queen of shadows. Her hair flowed in cascading waves, so black it seemed to devour the moonlight, while her eyes gleamed with a cruel kind of wisdom. Draped in a cloak that shimmered like the night sky, she appeared less human and more like an embodiment of the Void itself... And yet, across from her, there stood another figure—petite, golden-haired, clothed in a dress adorned with delicate snowflake patterns. This other woman seemed fragile, like a snowdrop blooming in the darkness, yet there was a faint defiance in the way she held herself. Her wide, innocent eyes seemed to plead for understanding, though they were tinged with the weight of an unspoken destiny.
"Listen, my pet," the tall woman purred, her voice smooth yet cutting like a blade wrapped in silk. "For thou art mine own chattel, and times of tribulation do lie afore thee, I shall bestow upon thee one of mine own most cherished gifts for a worm such as thee. Use it well, and forget not that thy woeful life belongs to me! Forget not that thy soul I can hold ceaselessly at the boundary betwixt thy miserable realm and mine own domain. Wherein I keep the soul of thy unworthy mother..."
Her words struck like the tolling of a funeral bell, each one reverberating with a promise of despair! And yet, beneath her malice, there lingered something unsettlingly tender...
"Ah, but don''t take my words to heart," she continued, a playful smile curling her lips. "Verily, I do take pleasure in possessing thee, mine own sweet worm, yet I shall chastise thee with severity each time thou doth transgress against me! Thus, until our next rendezvous, take heed of thy life, for it is mine own possession..."
Her voice faded like smoke, but her presence lingered, oppressive and inescapable and the golden-haired woman in the dream did not move, her expression torn between awe and fear. The scent of nightshade hung heavy in the air, and the tall woman''s long cloak seemed to move of its own accord, as though alive... And then, the dream dissolved into darkness, leaving me with a deep, unshakable chill that clung to my very soul.
Overwhelmed by the terrible heat and utterly exhausted from the dream I had, I woke up dazed and frightened; strangely, however, I wholeheartedly wished to see that terrible and majestic woman again. Moreover, what I had heard about my mother Kiersten''s soul — whom, to my shame and sorrow, I had already forgotten — deeply unsettled me. I did not yet understand why she claimed my mother''s soul or why she sought to burden me with this knowledge; and this question tormented me for a long time...
But now I know that Nocturnal, my beloved mistress, lied shamelessly. Anyway, it is in her nature to do so; Nocturnal''s lies are never without purpose, and her truths are never complete. Even her deceptions serve a design known only to her... From the beginning I hated her, and I worshiped her. How could I not? She was a goddess, and I was her chosen... Her words hurt more than any blade, but they also bound me to her in ways I could not yet comprehend!
And her gift... It was truly something special, a precious gift for someone like me, just like she said. I could benefit from Nocturnal''s bestowal for the first time on a day when I was being chased by a few vigilantes. Exhausted, I turned into a narrow and dark alley where I suspected there might be a sewer opening. But there wasn''t, so terrified, I pressed against a wall and drew my knife... However, the vigilantes rushed past me, and even though one of them looked straight into my eyes, they continued on! I was amazed and sure that I possess an extreme power that will open doors inaccessible until then... However, I must add a word of caution here for any of my readers who might one day become the "beneficiary" of Nocturnal''s gifts or favors. Like Her, all of Her blessings and offerings are dazzling and immensely valuable, yet they are also shrouded in the fog of deception and disillusionment... A disillusionment that can sometimes prove fatal! Never, and I repeat, never place your full trust in anything bestowed upon you by Nocturnal! Do not wager your life on any situation involving Her gifts, I implore you, friends!
The Mistress of Shadows is so capricious and cruel—divinely cruel, of course, in a way that transcends anything we experience in our ephemeral and fragile world—that she sometimes delights in abruptly withdrawing any blessing she has granted, whether temporarily or permanently, and without the slightest warning.
Even this gift of becoming invisible to the eyes of those who hunt me is incredibly fragile: I can in no way control the moment it activates; I only know with certainty that I must be out of sight for it to even have a chance to trigger. And as for the moment I become visible to mortal eyes once more... Oh, it is better not to speak of it! It is completely random, with no connection to my actions or my will...
In those confused days for me, as I struggled to comprehend the unpredictable nature of Nocturnal''s gift, the city seemed to be caught up in its own game of shadows. Restlessness spread through the streets, as if unseen forces were subtly intruding into the lives of mortals. The atmosphere in the capital remained as it had been lately, yet unease was growing among the people. Whispers and rumors began to spread through the city streets, and residents started stockpiling food. The poor, of course, did so out of fear, while the wealthy pursued different concerns—gold and precious stones were in high demand, and the prices of houses and land were plummeting.
Troubling news echoed from distant lands: in the north, the province of Skyrim was rife with major unrest, and its once-inexhaustible supply of recruits for the Imperial legions seemed to have dried up. It was also said that the Dominion had filled the fortified city of Anvil with first-rate combat forces, veterans of previous wars. The Imperial army, in response, had been deployed to the County of Skingrad, with one legion marching toward Bruma. For the first time in centuries of relative peace, male citizens of the Empire aged 15 to 25 were being mobilized and trained for war.
Meanwhile, the warrior monks of the Order of Stendarr once again took on the heavy burden of maintaining order on the streets of the Imperial City, their presence growing more visible as they intensified efforts to curb criminal activity. Stendarr''s tribunal presided over most of the crimes committed in the metropolis, delivering swift and severe judgments.
As for me, however, these events and worries barely touched me; my life continued as before, except for the ache of missing my brother Rasha. I constantly asked my mother Shaira when he would return, and she would always reply, "Soon, my dear, soon."
One day, worn down by my relentless questions, Shaira took me aside and said in a somber tone:
-Elsie, Rasha has died. He will never come back to us, and it is time for you to accept this truth.
-No, Mom, Rasha can''t die! He''s too strong and clever! Why are you tormenting me with these lies instead of telling me where he really is? I shall embark upon a quest, ask his friends, and I''ll bring him back!
Shaira looked at me, her expression heavy with sadness. For a moment, she hesitated, and then she spoke softly:
-You''re right, my dear. Rasha hasn''t died, but... it would have been better if he had. He walks a dark path now, in a land of shadows and despair. It is better that you do not seek him.
-I will search for him in the darkest corners of the world if I must, Mom. I will bring him back here, to you, to us!
To my shock and dismay, Shaira began to cry. I had never seen her shed tears before. She embraced me tightly and whispered through her sobs:
-If you find him, Elsie, he will take you with him into Sithis''s realm. And then neither of you will return...
We wept together in each other''s arms for what felt like an eternity; now, as I reflect on the things my beloved mother Shaira told me during that time, I am amazed by what I can only describe as a prophetic gift she seemed to possess in the last year I spent as part of her family. Her words often carried a strange weight, as if she saw not only the past and present but also glimpses of a shadowed future that even she could not fully grasp. Between us, a rare bond had formed, rooted in our shared love for the same man, whose seemingly permanent departure only brought us closer. Many of the long, languid days of that final summer were spent in conversation, with Shaira speaking endlessly of Rasha. She shared stories of his childhood, his illnesses, and the challenges she faced in raising him. According to her, Rasha had been a brilliant but difficult child—often distant, his sharp mind matched by a puzzling indifference to the joys and sorrows of those around him. He attended family celebrations with an air of disinterest, as if such moments were beneath him. Yet Shaira was proud of him, though her pride was tinged with sorrow. On one of those days, she said something that has haunted me ever since:
"Rasha will not return to me, Elsie. But one day, he will return to you. And when he does, he will place you, with all the love he can muster, into the arms of your next mother."
I did not understand her then. Her cryptic words seemed to hint at something both tender and terrible, a future that I was too young to comprehend. I smiled, trying to reassure her, and declared that she was my only mother and I could never imagine having another. But Shaira did not share my certainty. Her gaze turned stern, her voice steady as she replied:
"You must grow up, Elsie. You must learn to face the world with strength and responsibility. The time for childish dreams is over."
Her words cut deep, not because of their harshness, but because they carried a weight I could not yet grasp. Shaira often spoke to me like this—severe and unyielding, her piercing eyes demanding more from me than I thought I could give. Yet, I treasured those moments because, although her rebukes sometimes stung, they were the clearest signs of her love.
She spoke of Rasha''s strong aversion to alcohol and to the moon sugar—a wondrous but dangerous gift bestowed upon the cat-folk by the Goddess. Shaira herself was an avid consumer of this divine product, and during those precious days, she introduced me to its pleasures. Yet even as she did, she cautioned me:
"Too much greed for it, my dear, and it will consume you. Everything we touch of the divine carries both joy and ruin."
Her words stayed with me, as did her voice, gentle yet firm, filled with a wisdom that seemed almost otherworldly. It was only later, long after her second prophecy shattered my world, that I truly understood the depth of her foresight and the weight of her love.
Shaira never truly relaxed unless we were speaking of Rasha—or of moon sugar. My mother took immense pride in Rasha''s apparent aversion to alcohol and to the wondrous gift bestowed by the Goddess upon the cat-folk: moon sugar. She, however, was a devoted consumer of this divine substance. During those cherished days we spent together, Shaira introduced me to the pleasures it could bring. She spoke of it as though it were a sacred connection to the divine, a fragment of the Goddess''s own grace. But even as she guided me through its wonders, she never failed to warn me of its dangers. "The gift is sweet, Elsie," my mother would say, "but it is also a test. Those who take too much are bound to lose themselves."
And so, the days of that final summer I spent in the Imperial City passed quickly—too quickly, in fact. Or maybe it only seems that way now, as I look back with nostalgia at the wonderful, carefree life I was fortunate enough to live within the embrace of that fascinating and kind-hearted family.
I continued to spend much of my time with Rasha''s gang. Rolf, who had taken over leadership after my brother''s departure, was very fond of me and never missed an opportunity to show it, while the other members of the gang were equally attached to me, treating me as their lucky mascot. But the times had visibly changed, and our lives were no longer as easy as they had been before. In Rasha''s day, it was enough for Nash, our treasurer, to walk into the merchants'' shops in our neighborhood with a smile, and they would promptly pay their protection fees while bowing and grinning obsequiously. But now, with the warrior monks of the Order of Stendarr stomping through the streets of the capital in their heavy boots, the craftsmen and merchants had become insolent, outright telling us that they no longer needed our protection!
My friends decided that these people needed to be punished and brought back to the "right path"—from their perspective, of course. I eagerly embraced their initiative, even contributing my own malicious ideas. We began a full-blown campaign of terror against those people who, in truth, were merely earning their livelihood through hard work and skill. As is often the case in such situations, our primary targets were individuals who weren''t truly wealthy—they couldn''t afford private guards, and their voices carried little weight with the civil authorities. So, apparently, it seemed like we had every chance of succeeding in our intimidation efforts...This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Though, the Order of Stendarr was vigilant, and above all, my mistress Nocturnal—who had recently made her definitive appearance in my life—was determined to thoroughly enjoy herself at my expense. Thus, the two forces that would dramatically alter my life acted seemingly independently, and I unwittingly stepped irreversibly onto the path of ruin... In this confession, I won''t blame anyone else for what happened next; the Order was a strict institution—perhaps too strict and inflexible—but it merely sought to preserve order and peace during very challenging times for the Empire. As for Nocturnal... well, the Mistress of Shadows never forced me to do anything! She merely nurtured the seeds that had been planted long ago... And I, for my part, was utterly delighted by everything happening around me and by the misdeeds I began to commit in those days.
My friends weren''t exactly subtle, and their methods of intimidation typically involved physical threats, which, if necessary—or sometimes simply for fun or to set an example—were carried out swiftly and with extreme severity. However, as I played no role in these physical confrontations, I began to grow bored with the monotony of our daily routine; moreover, the old methods no longer worked as effectively, given that the Order''s patrols were highly vigilant and intervened promptly in any situation involving physical altercations.
So one day, I pulled Rolf aside, and over a sumptuous meal generously accompanied by the sweet, sparkling wine from the vineyards on the hills overlooking the city of Anvil, I shared my ideas about how I thought our situation could improve.
Although what I was saying to him in a calm voice, deliberately detached and uninfluenced by the passion I felt inside, seemed difficult to achieve and the results highly dubious, Rolf finally agreed to discuss my proposals at one of the gang''s meetings. It''s very likely that the wine and fine food played a major role in his decision—a factor I had anticipated beforehand. These meetings were held periodically and were a tradition inherited from Rasha''s time; it was during these gatherings that the gang members were paid their wages and given additional benefits if they had distinguished themselves in some way. At the same time, following the curious tradition of free brotherhoods, such as those of the brigands of the forest, important decisions regarding the gang''s future activities were sometimes made through individual voting. Rolf himself had been confirmed as the gang''s leader during one such meeting, held after my brother''s abrupt departure. I found this procedure strange and even harmful. In fact, in none of the many legal or illegal organizations I would later become part of in my life was this kind of approach ever adopted. However, I didn''t take long to see the advantages of this procedure in this particular case, especially since I sensed Rolf was in fact very reluctant about my proposals. It''s quite likely he didn''t take them seriously and considered them merely the silly ramblings of the sweet and mischievous little girl who accompanied them on their escapades.
As a first step, in the days that followed, I spent a lot of time in Nash''s company. Ah, our treasurer was deeply troubled and even beginning to dread the days when the gang''s wages were due. For him, in the newly created circumstances, it was becoming increasingly difficult to secure the necessary funds, especially as the gang''s primary income—those "protection taxes"—was being refused by more and more merchants. So I did everything I could to win him over, to flatter him, and at the same time, to amplify the fears and anxieties that had been haunting him lately. First, once he started paying some attention to what I was saying, I suggested that I could directly contribute to the gang''s prosperity by successfully carrying out various robberies if I were supported by a few gang members. He laughed kindly and patted me gently on the head. At the same time, he expressed doubts about my ability to break into merchants'' or craftsmen''s locked homes.
"And then, once you''re inside, how would you avoid being caught by the owner? Besides, at night, in the dark, no one can manage in a house they don''t know..." Nash added, smiling at me.
I then told him that, in fact, for the first attempt, I planned to act in broad daylight, but I would absolutely need the support of two gang members to follow my instructions. He laughed even harder and then told me he would think about it.
It''s no surprise, then, that even though Rolf kept his word and spoke to the gang about my ideas, no one took them seriously. When Nash suggested we might give it a try, the gang members burst into laughter, saying they had no intention of being ordered around by a little girl. It''s true that they were all very kind to me, and in the end, they playfully ruffled my hair, but that meeting left me particularly irritated; and at the same time, it filled me with determination to show them what I was capable of.
I decided to focus my attention on the butcher who had broken my bones some time ago; this was a personal matter, and it only fueled my ambition and desire to pull off a grand heist. I spied on his home and habits for several days and nights. I no longer wandered with my gang, and my friends were convinced I was upset with them. I didn''t go home during those days either, which earned me some serious scolding from my mother, Shaira. But back then, nothing else mattered to me; all my attention and thoughts were now focused on that little man, sallow-faced and with badger-like eyes.
I came to know his house, his family, and their routines perfectly. I spent several nights carefully studying his residence. It was a tall and somewhat narrow house located on one of the winding lanes of the Talos Plaza District. On the ground floor of this house were the shop, which was the largest room in the entire building, and the kitchen; both were connected by a narrow hallway that featured two doors: one leading to a very neglected inner courtyard that resembled more of a well, and the other opening onto the street. From this hallway, a steep and narrow staircase led up to the two floors used as living quarters by the butcher''s family, as well as to the attic.
I had come to know all the items of any notable value scattered through the cupboards, drawers, and elsewhere across the two bedrooms and the living room. And, most importantly, I knew that the merchant had a secret spot where he kept some of his money in a cabinet filled with junk in the attic of his house. I knew his wife well—a gentle, timid woman deeply devoted to Stendarr—and I knew everything there was to know about his two daughters. They had a curious habit of attending school run by the god''s nuns every workday. This detail caught my attention particularly, and although it was absolutely irrelevant to what I was planning, I spent a lot of time carefully and delightedly observing the activities the girls engaged in under the nuns'' supervision.
The students usually sang hymns to Stendarr, which bored me terribly, though I greatly enjoyed the sound of their young, crystalline voices blending harmoniously, which left a very pleasant impression on my soul. They also read from heavy, thick books and, to my great surprise and delight, wrote on wax tablets using lead styluses. And, as the crowning delight of these activities, the students enjoyed breaks during which they played joyfully in the school''s lush garden.
Of course, there were less pleasant activities from my perspective: the girls were taught to sew, weave, and cook various dishes or were made to sweep and shake out all the rugs in the building. Ah, but I''ll stop here—just thinking about such chores makes me feel ill... The memory of those terrible days spent in the orphanage''s laundry will never leave me!
But I wished I could read, especially since some of the passages the students read aloud were very interesting and captivating.
None of this mattered to me during those days, though. My goal was set, and now all that remained was to execute the first major heist of my life. So, one morning, just at dawn, I broke into the butcher''s attic through the skylight and began rummaging through the junk-filled cabinet.
There was a lot of coins in that pathetic hiding place he had put together. The total value wasn''t particularly high, as it consisted of only a few gold pieces, many silver coins, and an entire bag of copper coins. I decided I had to take absolutely everything, but for someone like me, the heavy bag of copper coins was too much to carry. Especially since I intended to leave the same way I came, navigating the steep and treacherous paths of the tile-covered roofs.
And, on top of it all, I didn''t have much time at my disposal since I had meticulously planned that morning of an exceptionally special day, with every hour playing its part according to the family''s daily routine. As quickly as I could, I made small sacks out of some old bed sheets I found in the attic, tearing them into pieces. I filled each little sack with coins and then tied all the pouches along lengths of rope I found discarded in a corner. Taking a few risky ventures across the rooftops of neighboring houses, I stashed all the bundles of coins inside the chimneys of the adjacent homes. I tied each end of the rope securely around its respective chimney and then returned, sweaty and exhausted, to the attic of the house I had begun to rob methodically.
I had a few moments to catch my breath while the entire family woke up, had breakfast, and tidied up the house. Then, the daughters left for school as usual, and I immediately slipped into their room, taking from the drawer where I knew they kept their few small, inexpensive pieces of jewelry. With immense satisfaction, I tucked them into the small pocket on the chest of the apron I wore over my dress.
Next, I waited for the butcher''s wife to leave for the market, as she did almost every day. As soon as she left the house, I carefully explored every room in the house, knowing that the maid, who was busy in the kitchen, could climb up to the family''s living quarters at any moment. I ransacked all the bedrooms and the living room, taking everything that was shiny, small, or remotely valuable. Two rather large silver candlesticks gave me some trouble, but since I was determined not to leave anything behind, I wrapped them in a large handkerchief and tied them with a ribbon the mistress of the house was particularly proud of.
Moving awkwardly under the weight of all the trinkets and glittering items I had stuffed into every single pocket I had, I went even further and rolled up a small, thick, and exquisitely woven rug, managing to hoist it onto my shoulder with great effort. Exhausted, I slipped out through the narrow staircase and into the butcher''s backyard. From there, I spent the rest of the day till noon transporting the stolen items to a pre-arranged hiding spot in the main sewer channel beneath the Talos Plaza District. By the time I finished, my arms were aching, and I was drenched in sweat, but I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The first phase of my plan was now complete...
I caught my breath for a moment and then went to enjoy a lavish lunch at an expensive restaurant near the Temple of the One. Oh, I stuffed myself so much and was so tired that I decided to rent a room in the adjacent hostel, leaving instructions to be woken up an hour before sunset. I slept like an innocent child with no sins weighing on their conscience. Rested and in good spirits, I raced back to our house. Cautiously, I paused at the threshold, trying to figure out where Shaira was and what she was doing at that moment. But, as expected, I couldn''t avoid my mother, and she caught me just as I was trying to sneak into the girls'' room, where I slept and kept my belongings.
She confronted me rather sternly, asking where I had been the past few days and, most importantly, what I was up to next. Putting on my most innocent face and looking her straight in the eyes, I began to tear up and muttered a few incoherent words. Shaira softened a bit, her expression turning concerned, and when she reached out her hand toward me, I darted past her as quickly as I could and bolted into the girls'' room. I slammed the door behind me and bolted it.
Looking around, I saw that only my sister Elira was there—the sweetest and most endearing of them all. She stared at me in astonishment, a hint of fear beginning to flicker in her playful eyes. But I smiled at her and raised a finger to my lips. She smiled back, nervously, and sat down on her little bed, watching me intently. Outside, in the hallway, poor Shaira was shaking the door and calling my name, but I didn''t answer. Instead, I rushed to my small personal wardrobe.
I quickly changed into my most beautiful dress, tossed off my heavy boots, and slipped into a pair of satin slippers that I reserved for holidays. I let down my long, golden hair from its braid and ran a comb through the silky tresses a few times, the strands cascading around me like a diaphanous embrace.
Then I ran to the open window, paused for a moment, and shouted to our mother not to worry and to forgive me. "I''ll be back tonight and will explain everything!" I added, straddling the windowsill. The window was on the second floor of our house, and I gripped the drainpipe securely as I slid down its length to the flower-filled courtyard below. The yard was teeming with stems and leaves from that plant so dear to all in the cat-folk lineage—and even to me.
It was already late, and I began to fear I was running behind. Ah, that copious meal and the afternoon nap! Two mistakes I could not forgive myself for! I ran breathlessly toward the butcher''s shop; the city streets were bustling with people at this hour of the summer evening, as the velvet night began to settle over the restless and ever-busy metropolis. Weaving my way through the crowd, I finally reached the butcher''s shop just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
To my shock, instead of being closed with its shutters drawn, the shop was teeming with noisy customers. A few were even waiting outside on the street! Thrilled and nervous, I hid behind a pile of garbage awaiting the waste cart drivers and kept a vigilant eye on the shop''s door as customers entered and exited in a way I had never seen before.
At last, when night had almost completely blanketed the capital''s streets in its silken mantle, the final customer emerged, arms loaded with packages. I hurriedly ran to the shop and burst in like a storm, screaming as though out of my mind while staring at the two merchants in horror.
"A scoundrel with a lit torch is on your roof, master! Smoke is already coming from the attic!"
The butcher opened his mouth and stared at me in desperation. Oh, I could hardly hope that such a self-assured and cunning man could be so easily deceived; but I''m sure that evening his soul was torn—on one hand, by the joy of the unexpected crowd of customers who swarmed his shop, and on the other, by the news he had received throughout the day about the disappearance of various small trinkets and relatively precious items from his house. He shouted in a choked voice to his apprentice while locking the counter, from which the delightful sound of gold and silver coins emanated:
"Stay here, Jon! Watch the shop!"
He grabbed the club he had once used to crush my bones years ago and raced up the inner staircase, from which uneasy voices soon began to echo. But above all, moments later, an unearthly and utterly despairing shout shook the entire house. It was as if all the disappointment of this world had been compressed into that single cry!
The butcher had reached the attic and discovered the chaos I had left behind, not to mention the old cupboard with its door wide open and its secret compartment completely emptied!
The apprentice looked at me hesitantly but could see nothing more than a very young, exceptionally well-groomed woman with golden hair cascading in silky waves over her petite figure. I gazed back at him with wide, innocent, and frightened eyes.
He whispered, "Please, Miss, could you watch the shop for a moment until I get back?" and without waiting for an answer, darted up the stairs after his master.
I was overwhelmed with a joy akin to ecstasy. I grabbed the cleaver embedded in the table where the butcher carved meat and smashed the counter lock without hesitation. I filled a bag I found hanging on a hook with all the coins from the drawer. And let me tell you, dear friends, there was a lot of money there! Far more than I had expected or thought reasonable for a day''s trade, even on the eve of a major holiday!
In a mockery, I scattered a few copper coins on the floor and walked out of the shop, calm and composed, as if nothing had happened. Very soon, I disappeared with my hefty prize into the shadows of the secondary streets in the Talos Plaza District.
I was exhilarated and felt powerful—unbelievably powerful. I was utterly convinced of my great talents and skills. In those special, spellbinding moments, a dark melody of joy and triumph resonated in my soul.
Ah, how na?ve that little golden-haired girl with her wide, innocent eyes was! I smile sadly now as I write these lines, knowing with certainty that Nocturnal plays a strange and cruel game every time a thief embarks on a heist or picks someone''s pocket. My beloved mistress is so perverse that she isn''t content with the ordinary emotions her divine game evokes. Sometimes she cheats—and she does so in such a blatant manner that I can''t help but marvel at how shameless she is!
Oh, as I understand years later, on that fateful night, Nocturnal sought new emotions for herself and, in exchange, decided to ensnare me completely in her web. And she succeeded without a shadow of a doubt, for from that unforgettable night onward, my passion for shiny things became utterly uncontrollable!