For several seconds, I simply stared at the Grimoire.
I had encountered plenty of strange things since waking up in this world. A body that wasn’t mine, a noble family that treated me like a decorative piece of furniture, an estate that looked as though civilization had abandoned it years ago, and a hidden underground ruin beneath my library were all experiences I would have preferred to remove from my personal history. Yet, standing in that silent chamber, I found myself looking at an old book and thinking that this might be the first thing I had encountered that could genuinely ruin my life.
The Grimoire rested on a black stone pedestal in the center of the chamber. Dust covered the floor and gathered along the carved walls, but the book itself seemed strangely preserved. Its dark cover was worn at the edges, and thin golden lines stretched across its surface in intricate patterns. They didn’t resemble ordinary decoration. They looked more like fractures spreading beneath a solid surface, as though something had once been trapped inside the book and had tried to claw its way out.
I swallowed and took a careful step backward.
I knew what it might be. That was precisely the problem.
According to the prologue of The Dragon Kingdom Slayer, eight Ancient Gods had existed in an age so distant that even the oldest historians possessed little more than fragments of information about them. Their names had been lost, their civilizations had vanished, and the surviving records disagreed about the extent of their powers. What remained was the legend of eight Grimoires, each supposedly containing a portion of an Ancient God’s divine authority. Gathering all eight was said to offer the possibility of walking the Path of Immortality itself.
In the novel, those books had been less like treasures and more like disasters disguised as valuable possessions. The protagonist had spent hundreds of Chapters searching for them. Organizations had killed over rumors, kings had sent armies into ancient ruins, and noble families had destroyed one another over information that sometimes amounted to little more than a half-erased inscription and an optimistic guess. Entire arcs had revolved around finding a single Grimoire.
Even by the end of the story, the protagonist hadn’t managed to gather all eight.
And now one of them was sitting in front of me.
Beneath my estate.
I felt a headache forming behind my eyes. There were moments when a person was supposed to feel lucky. Finding a legendary artifact should have been one of them. Unfortunately, luck became considerably less impressive when you knew that legendary artifacts usually came with a large number of dead bodies attached to them.
"No," I muttered.
The chamber offered no sympathy.
I turned toward the staircase and started walking. There was no dramatic struggle with temptation. I simply decided to leave. Sensible people left mysterious ancient objects where they found them. They didn’t touch them, study them, or bring them home as souvenirs. I had absolutely no reason to become the proud owner of an artifact that had probably caused more wars than I had eaten decent meals.
I had almost reached the first step when I stopped.
The problem wasn’t greed. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe I could carry one of the eight Grimoires around and remain unnoticed forever. The problem was what would happen if someone else found it first. If this really was one of the legendary artifacts, leaving it beneath a major noble estate meant trusting that the secret would remain buried. The people who searched for these things weren’t exactly known for knocking politely on the front door and asking permission.
I glanced over my shoulder.
The book remained motionless on its pedestal.
"You’re going to be a headache, aren’t you?"
Apparently, the Grimoire was as inconsiderate as it looked.
I sighed and walked back.
Perhaps I could inspect it without actually doing anything. It wasn’t a particularly convincing plan, but it was reasonable enough to let me feel better about the decision. I crouched beside the pedestal and cautiously reached out, touching the dark cover with two fingers.
Nothing happened.
I waited, then placed my palm against it.
Still nothing.
A breath escaped me. "See? Perfectly fine."
The ground shook.
The sound came first, a deep rumble that seemed to rise from somewhere beneath the chamber. Dust sifted from the ceiling as the vibration rolled through the floor and into my boots. A sharp crack echoed behind me, followed by another tremor that made the pedestal shudder.
I pulled my hand away and looked upward.
A thin crack had appeared across the ceiling.
My stomach tightened. "No."
The crack widened. A small piece of stone broke free and struck the floor beside my foot. Another followed, then several more, each impact sounding uncomfortably loud in the confined chamber.
The entire ruin groaned around me.
I looked from the ceiling to the Grimoire, then back to the ceiling, as though one of them might explain why touching an old book had apparently been interpreted as a declaration of war.
"You have got to be kidding me."
A deafening crack answered.
A section of the ceiling collapsed directly above the pedestal. Stone crashed down, smashing the black surface beneath the book and sending a cloud of dust across the chamber. I stumbled backward, coughing, just as another slab tore free overhead.
That was enough.
I lunged forward, snatched the Grimoire from the shattered pedestal, and clutched it against my chest. Then I ran.
The chamber erupted into chaos behind me. More stone fell in heavy chunks, and the floor bucked beneath my feet. I reached the staircase just as another impact shook the passage, showering my shoulders with dust. The sound of collapsing rock followed me upward, echoing through the underground ruin with such force that it felt as though the earth had decided to bury me personally.
I climbed two steps at a time, keeping one arm wrapped around the book while using the other to steady myself against the wall. Dust poured down the staircase. Every breath tasted like dirt, and the narrow passage seemed to shrink with every tremor.
A chunk of stone struck the wall beside my hand. I flinched and nearly lost my footing, catching myself against the uneven rock before I could fall.
"Wonderful," I coughed. "Absolutely wonderful."
The stairs had somehow become twice as long as they had been on the way down. My lungs burned, my legs were starting to shake, and the Grimoire was a great deal heavier when I had to carry it while running for my life.
Another violent tremor traveled through the staircase.
A jagged crack spread across the step beneath me.
I didn’t stop to examine it. I climbed faster, ignoring the pain in my knees when I struck the wall and the sharp sting of stone scraping my hand. The passage groaned again, and for one dreadful moment, I imagined the entire staircase collapsing beneath my feet.
Then I saw the opening to the library.
Pale light filtered through the room beyond it. I couldn’t tell whether I was seeing moonlight or merely the faint glow from the windows, but I didn’t particularly care. The library was above ground, and above ground was suddenly the most beautiful place in the world.
I threw myself through the opening.
The moment I reached the library floor, something enormous collapsed beneath me. The impact struck through the stone, throwing me forward and sending me sprawling across the floor. Books tumbled from nearby shelves, and a cloud of dust rolled through the room.
I lay still for several seconds, dragging air into my lungs.
I was alive.
That was good.
I was also beginning to suspect that I might not remain alive if I continued making decisions like this.
Eventually, I rolled onto my side and pushed myself upright. Dust covered my clothes and hair, my throat burned, and my hands were shaking badly enough that I had to flex my fingers several times before they felt normal again.
Then I looked toward the bookshelf.
The hidden entrance was gone.
The bookcase stood against the wall as though it had never moved. There was no doorway behind it, no visible staircase, and no trace of the dark passage leading beneath the library. Only a scattering of fallen books and a thick layer of dust suggested that anything unusual had happened.
I stared at it for a long moment.
"So taking the book was the key," I murmured.
It was a guess, but I couldn’t think of a better explanation. The Grimoire had come off the pedestal, the ruin had begun collapsing, and the entrance had sealed itself behind me. Whether that sequence had been intentional or merely a consequence of whatever held the chamber together was a question I had absolutely no intention of investigating tonight.
I looked down at the book in my hands.
It remained silent.
"Helpful."
I slipped it beneath my coat. The garment was loose enough to conceal most of its shape, although carrying an ancient divine artifact against my stomach was considerably less comfortable than I would have preferred.
I had barely taken two steps toward the door when footsteps sounded in the corridor.
My entire body stiffened.
The library door opened, and Edwin stepped inside carrying a lantern. He stopped just beyond the threshold, his eyes moving across the fallen books, the dust coating the floor, and the scattered objects near the shelves. Finally, he looked at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
"Young Master," he said at last.
"Edwin."
His gaze moved over my dust-covered clothes before settling briefly on the shape concealed beneath my coat. My heart gave an unpleasant little jump, but his expression revealed nothing.
"What happened here?"
I glanced around the library. Explaining the truth would have required mentioning the hidden staircase, the ancient chamber, the legendary Grimoire, and the fact that touching the book had nearly turned me into a permanent resident of the underground ruins.
I decided against it.
"I was reading."
Edwin looked at the fallen books.
Then he looked at the damaged section of the floor.
"Reading," he repeated.
"Yes."
The silence that followed was long enough for me to reconsider whether pretending to have lost my mind might have been a better option.
Edwin crossed the room and examined the bookshelf. He shifted one book, checked the edge of the wood, and pressed a hand against the panel. He then looked at the floor near its base before turning back toward me.
For the first time since I had met him, he appeared genuinely confused.
Strangely enough, that was comforting. At least someone else in this household had no idea what was happening.
"Young Master," he said quietly, "I’ve decided that I don’t want to know."
I blinked. "That sounds wise."
"I believe it is the most sensible decision available to me."
He glanced around the room once more, and something in his expression suggested that he was mentally calculating how much work would be required to restore it. After a moment, he turned toward the door.
"Please return to your room. I’ll arrange for the library to be cleaned in the morning."
"Of course."
I started walking, relieved that the conversation appeared to be over. Then Edwin spoke again.
"Young Master."
I stopped.
He looked tired. Not angry, not particularly curious, just tired in the way of a man who had spent years maintaining a neglected estate and had apparently discovered that its newest resident was determined to make that task more difficult.
"Try not to destroy anything else tonight."
I managed a weak smile. "I’ll try."
His expression suggested that my answer had somehow made him more nervous.
I left before the conversation could become any more complicated.
The moment I turned the corner, I quickened my pace. I couldn’t take the Grimoire to my room. Too many people could walk in, and I didn’t have the slightest idea what would happen if someone touched it. Mira might appear with some ordinary household task. Seris could arrive to discuss the settlement accounts. Edwin might reconsider his decision and decide that he did, in fact, want to know what had happened.
I needed somewhere isolated.
The backyard came to mind.
I had passed through it earlier that day. It was surprisingly large for an estate otherwise being slowly eaten alive by neglect. Long stretches of grass spread behind the manor, bordered by old trees and stone pathways that had nearly disappeared beneath weeds. At the far end stood an old bench beneath a broad tree.
It wasn’t ideal, but then, neither was anything else in my life.
I crossed the yard alone. The manor’s lights gradually dimmed behind me, and the sounds of the household faded until all I could hear was the night breeze moving through the leaves and the occasional chirp of insects. Near the far hedge, I noticed a stray dog curled up in the grass. It lifted its head as I passed, watched me for a moment, then lowered it again.
I left it alone.
At least one of us had the good sense to sleep through the night.
I sat beneath the tree and finally allowed myself to breathe properly. For several minutes, I did nothing but listen to the wind and wait for my hands to stop trembling. My body was exhausted, and my throat still tasted of dust. The Grimoire, meanwhile, sat beneath my coat as though it hadn’t just tried to turn its surroundings into a tomb.
Eventually, I pulled it out and placed it on my lap.
It looked harmless.
That annoyed me more than it should have. After nearly getting buried alive because of it, I expected at least some acknowledgment of the inconvenience.
I considered locking it away somewhere. I could find a sturdy box, keep it hidden, and refuse to touch it again until I had a better understanding of what I had discovered. It was a sensible plan, and for once, I genuinely wanted to follow it.
Then I remembered the eight Grimoires.
If this really was one of them, its existence could draw people who would happily tear the settlement apart to obtain it. Hiding it might delay the problem, but it wouldn’t make the problem disappear.
I ran my thumb along the cover.
There was still time to put it away and pretend I had never found it.
Instead, I opened it.
The first page was filled with writing I couldn’t understand. The symbols were unlike any language I had encountered in this world, some resembling ancient runes while others looked like mathematical diagrams drawn by someone who had taken a personal dislike to geometry.
I turned the page.
More unfamiliar writing.
The next contained a collection of circles joined by thin lines, their arrangement too precise to be random but too strange for me to interpret. I examined them, hoping that some recognizable pattern might emerge.
Nothing did.
I turned another page.
Then I saw it.
A mark resembling one of the eight symbols associated with the Ancient Gods.
My fingers stopped moving.
The symbol had appeared in the novel’s surviving records, although I couldn’t remember where I had first read about it. I recalled enough to recognize its importance, but not enough to explain the pattern or its precise connection to the Grimoire.
That uncertainty no longer mattered.
"So it really exists," I whispered.
A strange pressure formed in my chest.
At first, I mistook it for the lingering effects of my frantic escape. I shifted on the bench, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the pressure tightened instead. My breath caught, and I looked down at the open book.
Then blood spilled from my mouth.
I froze.
A warm drop struck the page. Another landed on my hand. I tried to cough, but the motion sent a sharp bolt of pain through my ribs, and more blood stained my fingers.
"What...?"
The pain intensified until I couldn’t finish the question. The Grimoire slipped from my lap as I doubled over, clutching my chest. Something cold had begun spreading beneath my skin, moving outward from my sternum and racing along my veins. My fingers went numb. My lungs tightened, refusing to draw in enough air.
This wasn’t an injury.
Something was moving inside my body.
I tried to stand, but my legs gave way. My knees struck the grass, and I caught myself with both hands before collapsing completely. The ground felt damp beneath my palms, yet the cold spreading through me was far worse than the night’s chill.
It felt as though something was forcing its way through me from the inside, tearing through every part of my body that stood in its path.
I screamed.
The sound barely seemed to leave my throat before another wave of pain swallowed it. Dark mist began leaking from the Grimoire, rising in twisting strands that gathered above the grass. The strands drew together, stretching upward and forming the rough outline of a person.
Tall. Thin. Wrong.
Its body looked as though someone had gathered darkness itself and forced it into a human shape. Its edges shifted constantly, never settling into a definite outline, and the night seemed to grow colder around it.
I couldn’t look away.
Then a voice entered my mind.
"Give me your body."
My blood ran cold.
The voice didn’t come from the thing’s mouth. It sounded as though it had spoken directly into my thoughts, bypassing my ears entirely. I tried to push myself backward, but my arms barely responded.
"No," I managed.
The shadow lunged.
It struck my chest, and the pain that followed was unlike anything I had experienced before. Something cold poured into me, spreading through my body with terrifying speed. My vision blurred, and the garden disappeared behind a flood of memories.
My old world.
A cramped room. A desk covered in papers. Cold coffee beside a keyboard. The pale glow of a monitor in a darkened space.
Then came another set of memories: the Valerian estate, the training ground, unfamiliar faces, and moments from a life I had never lived before waking in this body.
Two lives.
Two histories.
The presence moved through them, searching, digging into memories that should never have belonged to the same person. I could feel it examining things I had forgotten and reaching for thoughts I had never intended to reveal.
Then it stopped.
"What are you?"
The question sounded different now. The hostility remained, but something else had entered its voice.
Confusion.
I tried to answer, but my throat barely worked. "What...?"
The presence pressed deeper, seemingly unable to reconcile what it had found. It had expected a single identity, a single history, a body it could take and control. Instead, it had encountered two lives tangled together in a way it didn’t understand.
The discovery did nothing to lessen the pain.
I clawed at the earth, trying to hold on to anything that still felt real. The cold presence was spreading, pushing farther into me, and I could feel my control slipping away. My hands no longer seemed entirely mine. Even the attempt to draw breath required more effort than I could spare.
"Get out!" I shouted.
Something blue flickered beneath my skin.
I looked down through my blurred vision. Thin lines of light had appeared across the backs of my hands, glowing faintly beneath the surface. They spread over my wrists and climbed my forearms, moving toward my shoulders and neck.
The presence recoiled.
"What is this?"
I had no answer. I was too busy trying not to die.
The blue lines brightened.
The shadow shuddered, its shape breaking apart at the edges before drawing itself together again. For the first time, it seemed to hesitate. Whatever it had expected to find inside my body, this was not it.
Then its voice changed.
"Finally..."
Triumph replaced its confusion, and the cold pressure inside me surged.
"Finally, I am free."
A translucent blue screen appeared before my eyes.
[Unknown foreign existence detected.]
For one suspended moment, the presence went completely silent.
I could barely focus on the words. They floated in front of me, clear and strangely detached from the agony tearing through my body. I had no time to wonder where they had come from before another line appeared beneath the first.
[Host body under unauthorized occupation.]
The shadow jerked violently.
"What is that?"
A third message formed.
[Compatibility assessment: Failed.]
The response was immediate.
The presence screamed.
"No!"
Blue light erupted from my chest. The force struck the shadow like an invisible blow, tearing it out of my body and hurling it across the grass. The pressure vanished so abruptly that I collapsed onto my side, gasping as air finally rushed into my lungs.
For several seconds, all I could do was breathe.
My chest still hurt, and my limbs trembled uncontrollably, but the cold presence was gone. The blue markings faded beneath my skin, and the translucent screen lingered before my eyes for one final moment.
Then it disappeared.
I stared at the darkness ahead of me, barely able to comprehend what had happened.
"What... was that?"
No answer came from the vanished screen.
The shadow, however, had not disappeared.
It flickered several feet away, its shape unstable, like smoke caught in a strong wind. The blue light that had expelled it from my body still seemed to cling to its edges, distorting its outline whenever it tried to gather itself into a solid form.
I pulled myself onto one elbow, breathing through the pain.
The entity turned toward me.
For a moment, I thought it might try again. I wasn’t sure my body could survive another attempt. But instead of lunging at me, the shadow shifted its attention toward the surrounding garden.
It was looking for something.
Then its gaze settled on the stray dog near the hedge.
The animal had lifted its head at the noise. It was now watching the strange figure with its ears raised, seemingly uncertain whether to bark or run.
The shadow moved.
"No!" I shouted, trying to get my feet beneath me.
My legs refused to cooperate.
The entity shot across the grass and entered the dog’s body before the animal could flee. The dog barked once, a sharp, startled sound, then went rigid. Its legs buckled, and it collapsed into the grass.
I could only stare.
The animal’s body convulsed. Dark flames burst across its fur, wrapping around it without setting the surrounding grass alight. The flames clung to its body like a second skin, flickering with an unnatural light as the dog struggled against the ground.
I tried to crawl closer, though I had no idea what I intended to do when I arrived.
The flames tightened around the animal.
Then everything went still.
I stopped moving.
For several long seconds, nothing stirred beneath the tree. The dog lay motionless, and the black flames slowly drew inward until they disappeared beneath its fur.
I thought it had died.
Then one paw pressed against the ground.
The animal pushed itself upright.
Its fur had become completely black, so dark that it seemed to absorb the faint light from the manor. When its eyes opened, blue light burned within them.
The atmosphere around it changed.
The garden grew unnaturally quiet. Even the ordinary sounds of the night seemed to recede, leaving a heavy silence beneath the trees. The creature standing in the grass was still shaped like a dog, but something about it no longer belonged to the ordinary world.
It slowly raised its head.
"Finally."
The voice was deep and cold, emerging from a mouth that had no business producing human speech.
"I am free."
The creature looked toward the manor, then the forest beyond the estate. Its gaze traveled up toward the night sky, and its expression hardened.
"Those bastards."
Darkness gathered faintly around its body. It lifted one front paw, staring at it as though remembering something that had been taken away.
"I waited. I endured. And they thought their prison could hold me forever."
I watched without moving.
The terror left behind by the possession had not faded. If anything, it had grown more complicated. This was the same entity that had tried to take my body, and whatever power it possessed was now inhabiting a dog.
A name surfaced from the fragments of history I remembered.
Asura.
The Ancient King associated with darkness and the Great Sea. The name appeared in scattered references throughout the novel’s ancient history, connected to forgotten conflicts and beings said to have stood against the gods themselves. I couldn’t remember the full account, and I wasn’t certain how much of what I recalled had been legend rather than fact.
But I recognized the name.
And if my memory was right, the creature standing before me was far more dangerous than its new body suggested.
The black dog turned toward me.
"Hey, kid."
I swallowed, trying to ignore the soreness in my chest. "Yes?"
"Do you think I’d let you get away after freeing me?"
I stared at him. "I didn’t exactly free you on purpose."
His eyes narrowed. "You took me out of my prison."
"I touched a book."
"You removed the seal that bound me."
"I was under the impression I was inspecting a book."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The dog seemed to be deciding whether my explanation deserved a response. Given the circumstances, I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t particularly satisfied with the evening myself.
He finally pointed a paw toward me. "Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to? If I told you my true identity, you’d tremble."
"I’ve had a difficult night," I said. "You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not trembling on schedule."
His ears twitched with irritation. He opened his mouth to deliver what was probably meant to be another grand declaration, but I found myself staring at him instead.
The words came out before I could stop them.
"How are you talking?"
The dog froze.
For the first time since it had stood up, its attention shifted away from me and toward its own body. It looked down at its front paws, lifted one, and turned it over as though expecting to find something different beneath it. Then it looked at its hind legs and finally twisted around to inspect its tail.
Its ears slowly flattened.
"What..." The voice that emerged was suddenly much quieter. "What is this?"
I hesitated. "You’re a dog."
Its head snapped toward me.
"I am aware of that now!"
The bark-like force of the words made me flinch. He spun around once, then again, examining his body from every possible angle as though sheer determination might persuade it to become something else. His tail followed him in an undignified circle.
Nothing changed.
He stopped and stared at his paws.
"I was imprisoned for centuries," he said, his voice low with disbelief. "I escaped that prison. I returned to the world. I am an Ancient King, a ruler of the Great Sea, an existence feared even by the gods..."
He lifted his head and looked at me.
"And now I am a dog."
I considered offering some words of comfort. Unfortunately, none came to mind that wouldn’t make the situation worse.
"It does seem to be the situation," I admitted.
His eyes narrowed. "You are remarkably unhelpful."
"I didn’t choose your new body."
"Neither did I!"
"Then we agree on something."
He let out a furious bark that reverberated through the garden. I instinctively leaned away, which only seemed to irritate him further. For a moment, I wondered whether an Ancient King trapped in the body of a dog could kill someone through sheer indignation.
He finally dropped onto his hindquarters, his tail curling around his paws. The darkness around him receded, though the blue light in his eyes remained.
"This is humiliating," he muttered.
I turned my face aside before he could see the expression threatening to form on it. Laughing at an entity that had recently attempted to steal my body seemed like a poor survival strategy, no matter how ridiculous the situation had become.
The silence lasted longer than I expected.
When Asura raised his head again, the outrage had not entirely disappeared, but his expression had changed. He looked past me toward the manor, then beyond the trees, studying the unfamiliar surroundings with an intensity that made me forget his current predicament for a moment.
"What year is this?"
The question caught me off guard. I told him the current year, watching his expression closely as the information settled.
Asura went completely still.
The irritation vanished from his eyes. He looked toward the distant manor, then the forest, then the sky above us. Whatever he had expected to hear, it clearly wasn’t that.
"So much time..." he murmured.
His voice had lost its earlier arrogance. For a few seconds, he seemed unable to say anything more. The creature who had announced his freedom with such triumph now sat beneath an old tree, staring into a world that had continued without him.
"Impossible," he finally said.
I didn’t answer.
Whatever Asura had been before his imprisonment, the world he remembered was gone. Kingdoms had changed, civilizations had risen and disappeared, and generations had lived their entire lives while he remained trapped. Even the stories I remembered from the novel were merely fragments of a history that had already become distant legend.
And now the first thing he had encountered after escaping was a nobleman’s backyard.
In the body of a dog.
I lowered my gaze to my hands. The blue markings were gone, or at least they were no longer visible beneath my skin. Yet I could still remember the screen and its three messages with uncomfortable clarity.
Unknown foreign existence detected.
Host body under unauthorized occupation.
Compatibility assessment: Failed.
Who had created that system? Why had it appeared when the entity entered my body? And what exactly did it mean for an existence like Asura to be incompatible with me?
I had no answers. The system had appeared, intervened, and vanished without offering so much as an explanation.
I looked at Asura again.
He was still glaring at his paws as though they had personally betrayed him.
My life had become considerably more complicated in less than a day. I had wanted a quiet estate, a comfortable bed, and enough money to keep myself out of trouble while I figured out how to survive in this world. Instead, I had discovered one of the eight Grimoires, nearly been possessed by an ancient existence, awakened some mysterious power inside my body, and accidentally released an Ancient King into the world.
I leaned back against the tree and let out a tired sigh.
"At least one thing is certain."
Asura’s ears twitched. "What?"
I turned toward him. "You’re going to be a problem."
He stared at me for several seconds, his blue eyes narrowing into an expression that somehow managed to look offended despite the shape of his face.
"I was thinking the same thing about you."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The Ancient King of the Great Sea sat beneath an old tree in the body of a black dog, while I sat beside him with aching ribs, dirt on my clothes, and no plausible explanation for anything that had happened tonight.
We didn’t trust each other. We didn’t understand what had happened, and I had a growing suspicion that understanding it would only make my life more difficult.
Then I remembered the library.
Edwin had found me standing in a dust-covered room surrounded by fallen books, and I had lied to his face. He had chosen not to question me, which was a kindness I would almost certainly come to regret. The Grimoire was now hidden beneath my coat, the underground entrance had vanished, and I had brought an ancient being back from the dead—or whatever counted as being dead in this world.
I looked toward the manor.
Then I looked at the black dog sitting beside me.
There was absolutely no chance Edwin was going to believe this.