Heart of the Furnace

At that time, the pale emperor of the land of ice and snow had yet to be consumed by the black torrent. That distant day still lay far beyond the horizon. The young Domovoy, born in Kitezhgrad, knew nothing of the fate that awaited him. He departed the snowbound old capital aboard a beast-drawn sled that crossed the frozen land. He looked back toward his hometown beneath the winged peaks. The fleeting glimpse he caught between the cargo crates, as the sled carried him ever farther away, would be the last time he ever saw it. He carried a letter of recommendation bearing the signature of one of the most eminent among the Domovoy. With it, he passed through the gates of the ever-burning furnace core. The colossal machinery roared without pause. Its thunderous rhythm carried waves of heat that beat endlessly against his ears. Yet he felt neither awe nor fear. Excitement overwhelmed every other emotion. He knew the opportunity before him was extraordinary. It might well be the only chance in his life to change his destiny. By the Grand Dukes' benevolent decrees, the humans favored by the Crown were never expected to shoulder arduous labor. Nor could humans ever possess the strength of the fae folk, who could lift massive stones with ease. Neither could they match their deftness in every task. The young Domovoy seemed the perfect proof of those beliefs. His hearing was so keen that the sound of the furnace core alone told him where maintenance was needed. His movements were so nimble that he could race through the narrow iron conduits without breaking stride. As for regulating the city's energy supply, and mastering the workings of Kresnik Kristall... Those talents had earned him both recognition and recommendation in the first place. Perhaps, in time, he would become a supervisor. Once he had gained sufficient experience, he might even aspire to the office of the President, the one who oversaw the operation of the torches. Then, one night, everything changed. It happened at a private banquet hosted by the Domovoy Grand Duke. The elderly master of mining and energy gave him a command: "A greater undertaking requires your service, Izmaylov. I need you to join a project of the utmost secrecy." "I have watched you for a long time. Your talents reach far beyond this work. I need you to observe everyone... Every move they make."

He had once heard rumors of a silver-haired young woman who appeared behind the palace curtains. Such stories were often exchanged beside the hearth. The young Domovoy first believed she was nothing more than an orphan the Tsar had raised within the palace. To him, she was a symbol of the Sovereign of the Pale Stars' mercy, displayed for the humans who knelt beneath the wind and snow. After joining the research institute known as Hvergelmir, he quickly realized how terribly mistaken he had been. Later, deep within the palace where white birches would come to grow, those who pursued forbidden knowledge salvaged relics from the world of shadows. They dismantled and studied every remnant of the golden age. They searched for every path. They sought every possibility that might yet save the world. Time and again, the young Domovoy would scarcely voice an idea before the silver-haired scholar responded. It was as though she had been waiting for him to speak. Before he could fully develop his thoughts, she had already prepared the guidance he needed. She praised gifts he had yet to discover within himself. She soothed his unease. She even understood the duty that compelled him to report everything to the Domovoy Grand Duke. When he first accompanied her into the world of shadows, he felt none of the excitement he had once known upon entering the heart of the furnace. That world lay beyond all reason. It nearly drove him to despair. Yet on that very day, she placed a pen in his hand. In that moment, every peaceful future he had once imagined for himself as a Domovoy slipped beyond his reach. He buried his fear beneath fervor. He became like a train racing headlong into an unknown land. He added his own stroke to the birth of the twisted painting. He drafted a small corner of the blueprint for the world within the egg. He dreamed the dreams of others within his own sleep. He drank deeply from the bitter sea, as though entranced. Yet on the eve of the dream's completion, before the vision born from nothingness could finally take shape, the sovereign of ice and snow fell amid a tide that swept away all things. With that, the research lost its purpose. A new monarch turned her cold gaze upon every corner of the frozen land. Those who had trespassed upon forbidden knowledge had lost their protector. It was impossible that they should receive her mercy. He should have sought another path for the silver-haired girl. Instead, the only news that reached him was the strange report of her death within the world of shadows...

Before a great power can gather and be born anew, it must first be divided into three. The young Domovoy understood this well. He also knew he had no right to lay claim to such power. The lady who could shape wind and snow with empty hands departed, carrying the heart with her. From that day onward, nothing concerned her but her own kin. The somber alchemist turned to the pursuit of eternal life. He began a long vigil, waiting for the reunion he believed would one day come. And what of the Domovoy Grand Duke who announced the silver-haired girl's death? Being a Domovoy himself, he immediately recognized the falsehood hidden within the Grand Duke's words. The young Domovoy had once obeyed his commands. On that day, however, he made his choice. With flawless courtesy, he declined the Grand Duke's invitation. Even as he spoke, his mind raced ahead. He refused to believe that the silver-haired scholar he called his teacher had truly perished within the world of shadows. He swore to cross that once-dreaded realm again and again. He would return countless times to the realm he had once feared. He would continue until both his strength and his life were spent, or until he found her cold and silent body. Whatever it might cost him, and whatever sacrifices it might demand... He would find a way to make everything hidden within the palace archives his own. News of Kitezhgrad's destruction by the dark tide had once filled him with grief. In that very instant, however, sorrow gave way to elation. He had found a chance to step beyond the game board. The Lord of Kitezhgrad, the Domovoy Grand Duke who governed the mines, would inevitably be consumed by the task of building the new capital. Hurry, hurry! He had to stand before the new sovereign upon the throne before anyone else could. Through the intercession of a fellow Domovoy in the Tsaritsa's service, he was finally granted an audience. What price he paid during that audience is known only to the handful who stood within the chamber. Thus, when Grand Duke Alvis returned from Novokitezhgrad, he discovered that the Energy Commission already had a new master. "You have always been cautious. Her Majesty the Tsaritsa has been merciless toward the faes who once held true power in the old court..." "That is why you needed the construction of Novokitezhgrad to serve as the cornerstone of your standing in the new regime." "But I... Izmaylov. Ordinary. Insignificant. A pitiful kinsman, looked down upon by you..." "To uncover what your lies have buried, I have never needed the luxury of such restraint."

It is well known that the President of the Royal Energy Commission and Grand Duke Alvis were both Domovoy. Yet at every council session, they stood in fierce opposition, as though they were sworn enemies locked in an endless feud. Some claimed it was merely an elaborate performance between two members of the same race. Only those involved knew the truth. Behind every cordial toast lurked unseen blades; their malice was sweeter than honeyed wine, and far more deadly. After the railway across the frozen plains was completed, preparations began for the organization that would oversee its operation. Who should lead it? Who should command the trains that ran throughout the realm? The Domovoy Grand Duke believed only a fae of noble birth could bear such responsibility. Such a figure would command the respect of all. However, the Domovoy President had already learned the Tsaritsa's wishes. Every name on his list of nominees belonged to a human. Everyone expected another prolonged deadlock. They expected yet another struggle fought in the shadows. Instead, the Grand Duke suddenly took a step back. He relinquished his right to recommend the Director of the Transport Bureau. The reason soon became clear. At the time, the descendants of the purged old nobility had raised the banner of rebellion amid soot and ash. The Vila raiders known as the Burner of Cities used the railway to roam the frozen plains like a shadow. The Domovoy Grand Duke was himself one of the old nobility. His caution prevented him from acting openly. Instead, he waited in the shadows. He believed Izmaylov lacked the means to quell the uprising. When the opportunity came, he would intervene himself. He would cast down his detestable rival once and for all. By then, even the sovereign upon the icy throne would have no grounds to object. Yet the arrogant Grand Duke was proven wrong once again. The young Domovoy, far his junior in years, forged weapons for the heroes of Luchkins. Together, they crushed the Burner of Cities' scheme before it could ever take shape. Beneath torches that burned with the brilliance of bearfire, the leader of the heroes and the rebel were consumed by the same flames. The modest renown they had earned among the people was gathered into the young President's hands. There, within the narrow alleyways, he and the surviving heroes swore an oath. Thus was the High Table established. Amid soot and rust, all would henceforth live by the Law.

Those were the years when all that had come before began to fade into the distant past. Memories grew dim. Their colors slowly bleached away. The great trees that had taken root in the Snowgrave had, unnoticed, grown into canopies that blotted out the sky. The fae folk were blessed with long lives. Even so, his countless journeys through the world of shadows exacted a heavy toll. At last, he saw her again. She was the girl he had brought back. She had escaped her prison within the world of shadows. The Shadow Realm had spared her from the ravages of time. He, however, had grown white-haired and frail with age. She asked him about everything she had missed while lost within the world of shadows. Just as she had once guided him, he had prepared every answer. When their conversation came to an end, he pushed himself up from his reclining chair. The aged Domovoy gently withdrew from the arm that supported him. Then, just as he had done in his days as an apprentice, he removed his hat and bowed. "My honored one, my teacher, Aksinya. I have been fortunate beyond measure to see that your face remains unchanged." "I was never more than an ordinary Domovoy. I never possessed the brilliance needed to avenge you, nor to carry on your will." "The only thing I could do was to keep believing through these five hundred years. To believe that you, too, would never abandon either your dream or your life." "Now, my greatest wish in this world has been fulfilled. My teacher, this is the last thing I can do for you." "The only great aspiration of an otherwise unremarkable life has at last been realized." "Now, I return the pen you once placed in my hand." "I cast everything aside. I gave everything I had. I believe I have spent an entire lifetime repaying the brief dream you bestowed upon me." "From this day on, neither of us owes the other anything. Go now, my honored one. My teacher. My..." "...Aksinya."