Three weeks had passed since Knox had taken Youri to his home. Through all those days, Youri spent most of his time between books and the expansive garden that stretched behind the manor. Knox's estate had a vast garden—an almost endless spread of trees, hedges, and greenery that rustled softly whenever the wind swept through. Youri often found himself beneath one of those trees, slowly turning the pages of whatever book he had chosen for the day, letting the quiet embrace him.
Knox, meanwhile, usually remained at home unless a call summoned him elsewhere. Whenever he did leave, he was never gone long. Some days, as Youri sat under the shade reading, Knox would settle onto the porch with a faint smile, watching him with an expression that was difficult to decipher—fondness, perhaps, or something far deeper that Youri couldn't quite grasp.
One day, as Youri was coming down the staircase toward the living room, he heard Knox speaking on the phone. His tone was low, controlled.
"Good. Make sure to come from the back side," Knox said. "Call me when you get here."
He ended the call and turned his head instinctively toward the stairs. He took several steps closer, eyes narrowing slightly, but by the time he reached the bottom, there was no one there. Youri had already slipped silently back into his room, heart beating a little too fast.
Lying on his bed, he tried to dismiss what he'd heard. But the words replayed themselves in his mind: the back side. In Knox's estate, that could only mean one thing—the back lot. And the back lot connected directly to the basement. The thought made a cold unease crawl beneath his skin.
Night fell over Talion, and Youri remained awake. His mind refused to settle. As he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, the sound of an engine rumbled from outside. Youri quickly got up and went to the window, trying to see, but the angle of the yard left the vehicle out of sight. A mixture of curiosity and dread pushed him to put on his shoes. He slipped out of his room and crept down the stairs, stepping over the wooden patches that creaked.
Once on the first floor, the glow of headlights cut through the darkness from the back lot. He went to the door leading outside and pressed his face to the narrow strip of glass. A truck had pulled up, and around it stood several men—each dressed entirely in black, faces hidden beneath masks and wide hats.
The men were unloading long, heavy black crates and carrying them into the basement.
To Youri's shock, Knox emerged from the basement as well. He held a brown leather suitcase in his hand, his voice sharp and commanding.
"Be careful with those," Knox barked. "Those things are rare. I'm not paying you a damn coin if the merchandise is damaged."
The masked workers hauled the remaining crates inside. Knox disappeared back down the basement steps but soon returned. He handed the suitcase to one of the men. The man opened it, inspected the contents, and gave a curt nod.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you," he said.
Without another word, the group climbed into the truck and drove away, the headlights fading as the darkness swallowed them. Knox did not look concerned—simply tired, perhaps annoyed—before he returned into the basement.
Youri, breath shallow, slowly opened the door and stepped outside. The night air felt unnaturally cold. He crept toward the basement entrance, his small hands gripping the edge of the outer wall as he raised his head just enough to look in.
The basement was much larger than he'd imagined. The black crates were scattered around the spacious room. At the far end stood two white double doors, their paint peeling, their frames slightly rusted.
Youri's curiosity tugged at him stronger than his fear. He slipped inside.
The bricked walls were old, uneven, and the air smelled faintly of chemicals and dampness. He approached the double doors. Each door had a small square glass window at the top, but at his height, he couldn't see through. His eyes darted around until he spotted a small crate not far away. He dragged it quietly across the floor and positioned it in front of the doors.
Climbing onto it carefully, he rose just enough to peer through the window.
A greenish glow illuminated the room beyond.
Inside was an operating room. The fluorescent ceiling light flickered faintly, casting an eerie pallor over everything. The white tiles on the walls were stained and cracked, sections peeling away to expose drywall riddled with grime. At the center of the room lay an old operating table, covered in a tattered cloth. Medical instruments were scattered across its surface, some stained with dark, dried liquids, others half-hidden beneath the cloth like forgotten relics.
The floor surrounding the table bore the unmistakable marks of dried blood. From the ceiling hung thick chains, swaying slightly in the still air. Against the right side of the room, a metal cart with drawers sat cluttered with medical supplies and equipment. Beside it stood a bulky, aged machine emitting a quiet hum. The walls, once white, were covered in streaks of dried fluids, and patches of mold darkened the lower corners.
Youri's stomach twisted. A chill ran through him so sharply his legs nearly gave out.
Suddenly, the double doors flung open with a violent crack. Youri flinched and nearly fell off the crate.
Knox stood in the doorway.
He had been there the entire time, hidden just out of sight.
Youri froze, every muscle locked. Knox's expression shifted into something between amusement and irritation—a faint smile, but not a comforting one.
"What are you doing here, Youri?" Knox asked, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
Youri scrambled for words. "I—I came down for water… and I saw a light outside… so I just came to look."
Knox stared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed softly.
"All right," he said. "I suppose the plan has to start earlier than expected."
Youri's breath caught.
Knox stepped forward, closing the double doors behind him with a metallic thud. He then turned fully toward the boy.
"Since you found your way down here," he said, "I guess I don't have much of a choice now."
Knox walked to one of the wooden crates and cracked it open. The nails groaned as he pried the lid free. Inside was a square jar, its glass thick and fogged from the strange green fluid that filled it. Something shifted inside—small, pale, and unmistakably alive.
Knox held the jar with a careful, almost reverent grip.
"Youri," he said quietly, "do you know what makes people special?"
Youri remained silent, trembling.
Knox continued, "It's not strength. It's not luck. It's potential. Hidden potential."
He tapped the glass. The thing inside twitched.
"And some people," Knox said, eyes sharpening, "are born with more potential than they realize."
Youri instinctively stepped back. Knox noticed, but he did not approach aggressively—only with certainty.
"Don't be afraid," Knox said in a measured voice. "I'm not angry. In fact…" he placed the jar on the nearest table, "I'm impressed. You're braver than most. Curious. And curiosity" —he tilted his head— "is the first step toward understanding."
Youri swallowed hard. "What… what is that thing?"
Knox smiled faintly. "A prototype. A fragment of something ancient. Something valuable. Something I've spent years working toward."
He walked slowly around the room, speaking as though giving a tour.
"When I found you," Knox said, "I thought I'd need months before you were ready. Months before you'd even question what lies beneath this house. But here you are—standing in the heart of my work."
He gestured to the operating room, to the blood, the chains, the humming machines.
"This basement," Knox said softly, "is where potential is unlocked."
Youri felt dizzy.
Then—footsteps. Slow. Heavy. From behind the double doors.
Knox didn't look surprised. If anything, he almost seemed pleased.
"Ah," he murmured, "they're early."
The footsteps stopped. A metallic scrape followed, as though something heavy was dragged across the floor.
Knox placed a firm hand on Youri's shoulder.
"Don't run," he whispered. "If you do… they'll catch you before I can explain."
The double doors creaked open.
A tall silhouette stood in the greenish glow—restrained by metal cuffs, shoulders rising and falling with deep, shuddering breaths.
Knox's grip on Youri tightened just slightly.
"Youri," he said with quiet certainty, "welcome to the beginning."