A group of new prisoners were shuffling reluctantly along the multi-coloured mosaic patterns of the marble floors. Among them were several nobles and representatives of the Inquisition. At first, the lad didn't even notice them, as his mind was still preoccupied with his request to August, which out of cowardice he wouldn't be making anyway. Then the switch in his brain finally flipped and he looked after them in shock. He pulled himself together and ran over to the procession of people who had just been ushered in. "Stop!" he shouted to the soldiers, who looked at him briefly and, upon realising that it was the Chosen One who had ordered them, brought the row of captives to a halt. What had suddenly awakened this vigour and at least a little more courage in Wenzel, one would like to know? The prisoners looked over and two of them knew exactly who he was. Bertold and Hildegard, his adoptive parents, looked at him in disbelief, but didn't say a word.

  The magician didn't know exactly what to do. There was no way he was going to let them die here! He turned round a little confused and looked behind him, where his bodyguards, August and a few other soldiers were standing and eyeballing him. With one hand in his trouser pocket and the other one pushing his glasses back up, August looked at him questioningly. Wenzel thought for a moment and then told him: "These two here! I want them to be taken to their own room. I want to question them personally." Raising his eyebrows somewhat in surprise, the Chief of Staff glanced over at his parents and asked: "Do you mean these two?" - "Yes," came his short reply. "Okay. Men, get these two into the room at the end of the left corridor," August ordered his soldiers. And so, they did. They went into their own room and closed the door behind them. But to Wenzel's displeasure, August, Brahm and Ferenc had accompanied him here. They were obviously also interested in what these people were all about.

  Then he looked at the two of them, who had seated themselves on two of the chairs in the room. They were looking just as proud as ever, despite the position they were in. Our wizard remained standing, but he was paralysed by nervousness. His adoptive parents also just stared at him without saying anything. It was a very tense, strange situation that everyone involved found themselves in. What could they or what should they say after all that had happened? The two nobles were wearing fine clothes, though they were stained with dirt. The lad glanced at them briefly but didn't dare to look them in the eye. "I'm sorry!" it finally came out of his mouth. "I'll make sure you're spared." Now his father raised his voice: "How very kind! Do you know what I would prefer? If you could bring my son back to life! Maybe you can do that with your witchcraft. Or can’t you?" Wenzel was flabbergasted. His allies in the room began to grimace at them for striking such a combative tone with their Chosen One. But then the young man quietly and timidly spoke: "It was an accident. I never intended to do anything like that. As much as I had my arguments with Aurel, this incident was....." He didn't know how to finish the sentence.

  Bertold replied: "It's just as everyone has always been saying. You are cursed, possessed by the devil! You only bring misfortune to everyone you come into contact with! All I have to do is think of your poor teacher, for instance!" Alarmed, the young man had to ask. "Who? What exactly happened to whom?" Bertold sighed and then began to elaborate: "As far as I can remember, his name was Albrecht. The Inquisition suspected that he had also played a role in your escape. You can probably guess what they did to him." Wenzel would have loved to cry now. He knew it had been his fault. He knelt down on the floor and put his hands over his face. But then he had another question. "What about Amalie and Peter? Do you know anything about them?" Bertold pondered for a moment, but replied, while shaking his head: "I don't know who the girl is. As far as I know, the boy's parents took him out of school. I'm sure they're in hiding somewhere." Disappointed, the lad’s head dropped down. All he could do was hope, that she was all right. As always, Hildegard didn't speak and just sat there. Wenzel didn't know what else to say. For a while, everyone just sat there in silence. The other men had sat down in the meantime.

  But then one thing came to his mind that he really wanted to know. "There’s one more thing I’d like to know. Who are my real parents?" They both gave him a puzzled look when they heard this. "Where did you…..?" The sir cut himself off. He refused to answer. The mage stood up and walked over to him. "If you don't want to tell me, I can find out another way," he announced and placed his hand on Bertold's head. He would now read his thoughts……………….. The men and Hildegard just watched with interest at what Wenzel was doing. But there wasn't much to see anyway.

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  When he had found the memory he was looking for, he took his hand off the top of his father's head again and took a step back. It was an incredible revelation for the boy. Things finally made sense. Why else would they have knowingly let a "demon" live? The queen simply hadn't had the ruthlessness to kill her own son. So that’s how it was. That was the only reason, no, even the only way a wizard could survive in this witch hunt obsessed country. Was this just pure coincidence or could the hand of God have been involved in this after all? Who knew? .... Wenzel's hands were shaking violently, his head was turning red and he was feeling sick. All of this had probably been too much for him after all. "Are you happy now?" Bertold raged. "You are not my true son. And you never will be. Nevertheless, I wanted to bring you up properly, with respect. I should never have agreed to that!" For the first time, his wife kicked him and reprimanded her husband: "That's enough!"

  But Wenzel's insides continued to seethe. He began to breathe heavily. When he did, the other three men suddenly stood up and ran to him. "What's going on? Are you all right, boss?" asked Ferenc in a worried voice. The wizard felt the pressure inside him start to rise more and more. Oh, no! He had a faint idea of what was going on. "Off! Get out of the way!" he shouted at them, panting. The three were perplexed. The young man tried to move away from them. He knew it was about to explode out of him! As he ran to the other corner of the room, his eyes began to glow bluish. His two bodyguards stopped, as he had ordered them to get out of his way. Passing a couple of large pillars supporting the vault, the lad ran to increase the distance to the others. The heat and pressure inside him continued to grow steadily. Believing he was now far enough away from them, he came to a halt. Only then did he realise, that August had run after him! "What are you doing? Back off!" Wenzel shouted at the man, who had no idea what was going on with Wenzel. Then it happened. The pent-up magic burst out of him! The chief of staff was hit by a powerful shockwave and catapulted backwards. He hit one of the pillars, let out a pained groan and then fell to the ground. At the same time, the nearest windows were shattered by the telekinetic wave.

  What a disaster! Brahm and Ferenc quickly rushed to August. Wenzel stood there for a moment after his "outburst" and couldn't do anything. Suddenly he heard a voice in his head: "Destroy it. Destroy the pendant!" For a brief moment, he was actually inclined to do so, but then immediately abandoned the idea. Brahm came over and checked on August. He was conscious. "Hey, how are you? Can you get up?" - "Well, I've got this beeping in my ears." The man tried to stand up, but fell down again. "Get a doctor!" Ferenc didn't need to be told twice and sprinted off. August was injured, but it wouldn't cost him his life. After the doctor had treated him, they learnt that the man had hurt his leg. Something to do with the tendon or something, Wenzel couldn't remember exactly. The patient was prescribed to rest his leg for the next few days and not to put too much strain on it. August only listened to the advice to a limited extent. He had work to do, work that no one else could do. One would think that he had gotten off lightly, and given the fact that, with bad luck, he could have died from Wenzel's magic, that was true. But his leg would never be the same again. August would always limp on his right leg from now on.

  This was the second time something like this had happened to Wenzel. He apologised several times to August, who seemed to have an astonishing degree of understanding for the circumstances. Nevertheless, the lad felt guilty. He was convinced that these 'magical outbursts' were related to his emotions. There was no other explanation for him. If only he knew more about magic.... At that moment, he remembered that he had wanted to visit the library in this city. Soon. As for his "parents", he solicited August, that he should let them go again. "As far as I know, the Althuns are ardent supporters of the Alethian Commune. I don't think we can let them off the hook so easily!" Wenzel argued with him for quite a while. He had to persevere here! Still, the best he could achieve in the end was that their lives would be spared and that they would be locked up. Perhaps he would be able to do a bit more about it in the future. The very fact that he had stood up against August was already extraordinary for the young man.