Lars stayed a few minutes longer in the library after Klein left. The call Klein had taken had been brief but urgent enough to make him vanish almost immediately, leaving Lars there. Silence reigned in the library, so dense that Lars could hear the creak of his own thoughts. Klein's words still floated in his mind, as if they had been etched into the walls. The story of Sigmund, the fate of Dominion's old members, the cruelty of the old rules… it all mixed with the feeling that he was only scratching the surface of something much deeper.
He closed his eyes for a moment, resting his head against the back of the chair.
Did the organization really change that much?
Or did it simply adapt the same control into another form of obedience?
What kind of justice can a group that forced pacts with demons possibly bring? he thought.
He had come looking for power, looking for the strength to exact his vengeance. But every new detail he heard made him question how far Dominion's intentions truly reached.
They say things are different now, that no one is forced… but is it true? Or is it just fancier chains disguised as freedom?
The image of Sigmund haunted him: a man condemned to live in solitude by a power he had never asked for, unable even to embrace his daughter. Lars wondered whether that was an isolated fate or a warning for anyone who made pacts with demons.
Klein's voice repeated in his memory: "Now you understand why I warned you. With Sigmund there can be no friendship… only distance."
But Lars could not shake the impression that behind that distance there was more than fear. There was pain. And it ate at him. The fact that Sigmund at least still had his daughter, yet could not be happy by her side, nor accompany her at important moments, gnawed at Lars.
He stayed a few more minutes, stood up from his seat, and began walking between the stacks, looking without really seeing the spines of the books around him. He thought of Friedrich, Heinrich, Gerhard, of Sigmund… of that line of men who had shaped what Dominion was now with blood and pacts.
He wondered what price he himself would pay.
Suddenly, a soft sound pulled him from his trance. The door opened without discretion, and a figure walked in with a light step. It was Amelia.
"Well, well," she said with a pleasant smile. "What bit you? You look like you saw a ghost."
Lars blinked, trying to compose himself. "Klein told me… a lot of things." He sat back down where he had been.
"What kind of things?" she asked as she sat across from him, leaning her elbows on the table as if they were at a café and not in a solemn library.
Lars hesitated for a second, then decided to speak. "He told me about the Klaus family, Sigmund's story. About how he was forced to undergo the ritual, about what he lost. And also what Dominion used to be." He paused and lowered his gaze. "I didn't imagine that the children of members used to be condemned to follow their parents' path."
Amelia sighed and tilted her head. "Yes, it was horrible. Those times… they should never have existed." She looked at him with seriousness, though a certain warmth shone in her eyes. "But the good thing is that's no longer the case. Things have changed. Although there are still members who were dragged in by force, most have learned to cope. They do the best they can with what they were given."
Lars nodded, though the bitter feeling in his chest did not disappear. "I guess so."
Silence settled for a moment. Amelia watched him with curiosity, as if she wanted to decipher what he was really thinking. Lars, however, avoided meeting her gaze, trapped in his tangle of thoughts.
That was when he felt a change in the atmosphere. As if the very air tensed and grew colder.
The library door opened again, and the sound of firm footsteps echoed on the marble floor. Lars looked up, and there stood Sigmund. He did not come close; he stopped at a safe distance, as always. His tall figure, his dark coat, and that cold expression commanded an almost suffocating respect.
"Lars," he said in a deep voice.
Lars rose instantly. "Sir."
Sigmund stared at him. His gaze was impenetrable, but now that Lars knew something of his history, he could not help feeling compassion. Beneath that mask of authority there was a man condemned by a cruel fate.
"How is the work progressing?" Sigmund asked. "Have you been able to find anything?"
"Yes, Klein has been helping me, we also met with William, and I was able to trace a location for the boy," Lars replied.
Sigmund asked again, "And how about your power?"
"Good. I'm adapting little by little." Lars swallowed and added, "I've already begun to understand how to use my super strength. The problem has been the black flames; I still can't find a way to make them appear."
"Do not rush. Everything in its time." The leader inclined his head slightly. "But remember: your power is not a toy. Nor a common tool. Use it with caution."
Lars nodded. "I understand."
There was a brief silence. Sigmund held his gaze, and though his face remained cold, Lars thought he detected a subtle shade—a faint trace of humanity, of genuine concern.
"I'm glad to hear that," Sigmund said at last. "And soon you will be able to use your abilities on an actual job."
"I promise I'll do my best," Lars answered. Amelia just listened, somewhat surprised that Sigmund had approached the newcomer to speak. She had never seen that before.
"I hope so. I also have other news: in two days you will meet those who will accompany you." Sigmund narrowed his eyes, as if gauging his reaction. "They are in Berlin, staying at the Hotel Adlon Kempinski. Go there and present yourself. They have already been informed of your arrival."
The hotel name was not unfamiliar. Lars had heard it before: an elegant building facing the Brandenburg Gate, frequented by diplomats, businessmen, and wealthy tourists. A place so public and respectable that no one would imagine Dominion members meeting there.
Lars thought, Wow… so it's true they don't spend their money on trinkets.
"Understood," Lars replied, trying to keep the knot in his stomach from showing.
Sigmund looked at him for a moment longer, as if he wanted to read what was happening inside him. Then, without adding anything, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a feeling of emptiness behind.
Lars remained motionless, processing everything. Amelia was the first to speak.
"Well, looks like something interesting awaits you." She smiled with that playful tone that characterized her. "You'll see, not everyone here is as serious as Klein or Sigmund."
He raised an eyebrow. "And what does that mean?"
"It means the two you'll work with… are quite peculiar. But I won't tell you anything — I want to see your face when you meet them." She got up from the table, stretching as if she had just woken from a nap. "You should rest. You'll need it."
Lars said nothing. He stayed a few more minutes in the library, staring at the place where Sigmund had stood. He thought about what he'd heard from Klein, what Amelia had added, and what he himself had seen in the leader's eyes.
There was no regret in his choice to join Dominion — not yet. But a flood of questions for which he had no answers washed over him.
Leaving the library, the corridor seemed longer than usual. His steps echoed through the palace solitude, as if the echo repeated his doubts.
Two days. In two days he would meet his mission partners. And then he would truly begin to discover what it meant to be part of Dominion.
Lars returned to his room; it had been a day in which he received too much information and with it, a sea of difficult-to-order thoughts. It wasn't only what Klein had told him about Sigmund and Dominion's dark past, but also the fact that he already knew the boy's whereabouts. Everything mixed in his mind, pieces of a puzzle he had yet to fit together.
Exhaustion overcame him and he lay down. He didn't intend to sleep deeply, but when he closed his eyes a crushing weight pressed down on his body, as if his mind demanded a respite. Unaware, he fell into a short nap.
An hour later he woke with a start. The room was dim, barely lit by the light filtering through the curtains. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the desk. There was a stack of books he had pulled from the library hoping to find a clue about awakening his power. He had skimmed them for hours, underlining passages, marking symbols, but nothing seemed to give a clear answer.
With an annoyed gesture he closed the book that was still open and set it aside. He rose slowly, took a deep breath, and for a moment stared at the dusty covers. "Nothing…," he muttered to himself, aware that he was still far from understanding how to master what tied him to Dominion.
He rose and picked up the books. Perhaps the key lay elsewhere, in another forgotten volume in the library.
The palace corridors were deserted, and each step Lars took echoed on the marble floor like a long reverberation that reminded him he was completely alone. Or at least, that's what he believed. The library sat in half-light, with a couple of lamps casting a yellowish glow over the shelves.
Lars put the books down on a table and began to search a new section. His fingers brushed the spines—some in perfect condition, others so worn the title could scarcely be read. He felt like he was getting nowhere, searching blindly.
Until, in a neglected corner, he noticed a volume unlike the others. It had no title nor author, only a leather cover blackened by time and a metal clasp more decorative than functional. He took it with a certain trepidation, and a chill ran down his spine. It was heavier than it looked, as if it carried something more than pages.
He brought it to the table and opened it slowly. To his surprise, it did not contain legible words but symbols and diagrams that looked ancient, of strange calligraphy, as if drawn by someone in a trance. Lars recognized some signs he had seen in ritual texts, but others were completely new to him.
He leaned in, trying to decipher a particular passage, when he felt a slight change in the air. It was as if the temperature had dropped suddenly. He raised his head cautiously and looked toward the stacks.
A shadow moved.
He wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light or someone was really there watching him. He stood up immediately, his heart pounding in his chest. He walked a few steps toward the central aisle, but there was no one. Silence settled again, so dense that even the creak of the wood sounded like a whisper.
Lars returned to the table, slammed the book closed, and tucked it under his arm. He didn't know why, but he felt he had to keep it. There was something in that text, something calling to him in a way he couldn't explain.
As he headed back to his room, the feeling of being observed did not leave him. And though he tried to convince himself it was his imagination, deep down he knew someone—or something—had been following him in the library.