The First Spell

Prologue

The gray light of dawn was filtering into a richly furnished studio in Prague, Warsaw, through leaky blinds. Patrick Koval moaned pitifully as he heard the hated sound of his alarm. He sat up, running his hands through his long dreadlocks, and checked his watch. It was five in the morning.

With a sigh, he dragged himself into the bathroom to relieve his bladder. It had been a hard night. Four days earlier, he had been persuaded to ride a rollercoaster in California, and since then, every dream had been an endless descent on the damned thing. He washed his face with ice-cold water, put on a tracksuit and sneakers, tied his dreadlocks, carefully closed the apartment, and ran down the stairs from the tenth floor. He left the horribly stained staircase with relief, having long ago stopped reading the nonsense scrawled there by young vandals identifying with one of Warsaw's football teams and their mandatory hatred of their competition from Krakow.

Stepping outside, he was refreshed by the cool air of an August morning and began running towards the park.

Patrick Koval was a tall, well-built man in his late twenties with a slight belly he constantly fought against. Every morning, he ran five kilometers in the park and worked out at the gym every other day to counteract the effects by partying at Warsaw clubs. He had long, dark dreadlocks tied with silver buckles, a symbol of his success as the top developer at the Polish branch of Nanosoft. His broken nose from practicing kendo made him resemble Julius Caesar, and his bright blue eyes stood out under long lashes. Women were drawn to him despite his lack of traditional good looks.

After his morning run, he took a shower and ate cold chicken salad for breakfast. He quickly chose what to wear, opting for his favorite black leather pants, which irritated his boss, and a hooded sweatshirt with a T-shirt featuring Eddie, the mascot of Iron Maiden. He checked his watch and left, pausing to touch his laptop with a rush of adrenaline. A year ago, he had accepted a bet to break into the most secure files at Nanosoft headquarters and leave a message from John Lennon to Bill Gates. This act of bravery was a flaw in his character, but he couldn't stand the idea of being accused of cowardice, especially after drinking a few beers.

He stumbled upon an encrypted file named „The First Spell" during this break. Driven by curiosity, he copied it and spent three months breaking the code. The file contained a scan of a mossy boulder with symbols resembling a sophisticated algorithm, at least 10,000 years old from the Rocky Mountains. This discovery reignited Patrick's inner Indiana Jones, and he spent the next few months writing a program to analyze the mysterious algorithm.

Today was the day he finally read the closely guarded secret of the company. Excited, he threw his laptop in a backpack, grabbed a leather jacket, and headed out on his motorcycle to the headquarters, 8 kilometers away. He parked in the guarded lot, smiled at the gray-haired guard, and entered the building, ready to unlock the secrets of „The First Spell".

„Good morning, Mr. Josef!" He bowed slightly. „It looks like another beautiful day today." To his surprise, the usually cheerful man appeared anxious and whispered, „Not when they are here."

„They?" Koval smiled slightly.

„Men in black, Mr. Patrick! Real men in black!"

Despite himself, the man laughed.

„Have you been watching HBO again, Mr. Josef?" „What are you talking about?"

The old man was outraged.

„This is not the first time I've seen them. The last time they were here, one of our software developers went missing, like a stone in water. The militia didn't even find a trace!"

„The police," Patrick corrected him instinctively.

„The police, the militia, who cares!" The guard waved his knotty hand. „What matters is that young Zazel was never found. They say he broke into some forbidden headquarters files."