In the mystical realm of the White Kingdom, citizens begin to awaken extraordinary magical powers - and some even twice, with enough determination. This surge of supernatural abilities unsettles the ruling class, who initiate a dark era of witch hun...
The time of escape was selected with impeccable precision. To avoid arousing suspicion by gathering supplies and stocking up on provisions, Ray awaited the bakery's production of a large batch of pastries. The entire day was filled with the bustling activities of the inhabitants of the manor: sifting flour, cooking, kneading dough, boiling and frying various fillings, shaping pastries and rolls, and baking all of it in a vast oven. Isidore deemed the boy of little use and tasked him with packing the ready-made baked goods for an early morning departure to the market in Elsizar. Furthermore, the boy was expected to attract customers, assist with the trade, and unhitch and groom the horse. In sum, the youngest son was of such scant use that by the end of such trips, his vision would darken, and his legs would falter.
The world sounds different in the silence of a windless night or at the early pink dawn. Every knock explodes like a bolt of lightning, every quiet rustle echoes with the rumble of thunder, and a mere whisper suffices for conversation. In such times, one might even hear the voice of one's own thoughts. And Ray's thoughts reiterated one thing only – that he would not be heard. Although this fear was unfounded, the only other soul in the bakery was his grandfather Nicholas, a kind-hearted old man, hard of hearing, who had taught the boy the secrets of baking. The old man seldom performed his miracles in daylight, but his vibrational power was revealed at night: he snored so loudly the walls would shake.
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Ray spent his nights in the bakery, allowing him to arrange the baked goods until the break of dawn. Yet, this time, he did not torture himself for the family's sake. Instead, the boy selected the largest shoulder bag, filling it with his favorite pies, rolls, and clothing. The boy understood that he would see no inheritance and that whatever he took from the house would be justified. Nevertheless, he was resentful, realizing that in exchange for these pastries, he would lose the last remnants of his family.
Moreover, his conscience was tormenting him fiercely. He wholeheartedly did not want to take the pastries and the backpack. He desired to stay. Raymond knew all too well that Isidore would call him a thieving rat and a traitor, personally throwing him into the gloomy dungeon of Elsizar or breaking his legs. One way or another, if he were caught, his fate would be dire, and he decided not to find out how exactly.
To burn his bridges, he took down a luxurious brocade cover from a shelf, which was used to protect the food from flies, much to the envy of guests. However, things were not going well at the estate. After the death of his wife, Isidore only hosted large dinners a few times, clearly waiting for his father-in-law's death to sell the cover and many other valuables collected by the master baker over his long life.
The depths of Raymond's soul were aflame with remorse and shame. His universe of moral suffering stretched into infinity, plunging him into a whirlpool of confusion. A big purse of silver was hidden in the bakery, intended to settle accounts with passing merchants for flour, oil, and sugar or to give them change from selling bread and rolls. Upon finding it, the boy felt a bitter self-loathing.
