The Spell Thief Vol.1

Chapter 1: The City of Spells

Mist drifted over the high walls of the city, winding between the towers of crystal and stone that seemed to hold up the sky with their gleam. From the earliest hours of dawn, the air was charged with magical energy. Every corner of the city of Lunaris, the metropolis where power was a tangible currency, pulsed with echoes of ancient spells. To an outsider, the city might seem like a dream, a paradise of wonders and riches, but to those who lived there, Lunaris was a gilded prison.

High above, the magic elite traded spells in private halls, sealed with unbreakable wards that no thief could penetrate. But that sense of security was an illusion—something Aldara knew all too well. From her small office in the center of the city, far from the mages' towers, Aldara watched the city with a mixture of resignation and disdain.

"Another client complaining about stolen spells?" she muttered as she scanned the pages of a new case file.

Aldara, an independent investigator, had seen this pattern over and over. Mages, always so confident in their defenses, believed they were untouchable. Until they weren't.

She had long since learned that even the strongest wards could be broken, and that magic, in the end, was just a tool. And tools could be stolen.

Aldara set the file down on her cluttered desk and looked out the window. The city buzzed below her, the hum of spells traded and sold mixing with the clamor of street merchants. Spells flowed through the veins of Lunaris like gold in a kingdom—bought, sold, hoarded.

"Magic as currency..." she mused aloud. "And everyone wants a piece of the power."

Her life hadn't always been like this. Before becoming a freelance investigator, she had been part of the Mage Guild, an elitist organization where spells were not just tools but status symbols. Now she was a pariah, having walked away from that world of politics and hidden betrayals. The freedom cost her, but she preferred her modest office to the cold, grand halls where everything was a power game.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called without looking away from the window.

A man in a dark cloak entered. Aldara immediately recognized the emblem on his chest: the sigil of Solon Meron, one of the most powerful mages in the city. Only the wealthiest of mages could afford personal attendants, and only the most paranoid sent them to deliver messages.

"Miss Aldara, Master Meron requests your presence," the attendant said in a dry, monotone voice. "There is an urgent matter that requires your attention."

Aldara raised an eyebrow but didn't show any surprise. She had sensed that something important was about to happen; the city always gave her signs before major events unfolded. Besides, a mage like Solon Meron wouldn't ask for her help without a serious reason.

"How urgent?" she asked, reaching for her black leather coat and draping it over her shoulders.

"Master Meron has been the victim of a theft," the attendant replied with a slight bow. "A spell theft."

For a second, Aldara felt a flicker of curiosity. There were many kinds of theft in Lunaris, but rarely were spells involved, and even more rarely from someone as powerful as Solon Meron. Someone had managed to bypass the magical defenses of one of the city's most influential mages. That was not something that happened every day.

"Interesting," she said at last, adjusting her coat. "Let's see what they have to say."

Meron's palace was a maze of gleaming towers and endless corridors. Aldara followed the attendant through halls lined with magical symbols that protected every corner. They passed several arcane security wards, all still intact. But the most advanced magical defenses meant nothing if you didn't know what you were defending against.

Meron awaited her in his grand study, surrounded by shelves filled with ancient grimoires and artifacts that Aldara recognized immediately. She had been here before, years ago, when she had still been part of the inner circle of mages like him. But those days were long gone.

"Aldara," Meron said, without turning to face her. His attention was fixed on a floating scroll, a grimoire inscribed with the stolen spells.

"Tell me exactly what happened, Meron," she said, not bothering with formalities. Their past had taught them both to get straight to the point when magic was at stake.

"Last night," he began, his voice low and grim, "someone stole three of my most powerful spells. Spells that were under seven layers of magical protection. No one should have been able to touch them, and yet... they're gone."

Meron paused, his eyes finally meeting Aldara's. The fury in his gaze was undeniable, but beneath the anger, Aldara sensed fear. Something—or someone—had accomplished the impossible.

"Any trace?" she asked, stepping closer to the table where the scroll floated.

"None. No magical signature. No trace at all," Meron clenched his fists. "It's as if the spells vanished into thin air. And that, Aldara, is beyond explanation."

She nodded slowly, processing his words. Stealing spells wasn't impossible, but leaving no trace of magic behind required more than skill. It required ancient or forbidden magic—the kind of power that had been buried centuries ago by the Mage Guild.

"I'll need access to your wards," she said finally. "And your records of the spell protections."

Meron nodded in silence, unable to hide his desperation.

"Find whoever did this," he pleaded. "And quickly. This was no ordinary theft. There's more at play here."

Aldara didn't need him to tell her that. She knew the thief wasn't finished, and if they had broken through Meron's defenses, no mage in Lunaris was safe.

She left Meron's palace with a strange feeling settling in her chest. Something big was brewing, something that would forever change the way magic flowed through Lunaris.

And this was only the beginning.