Asher had barely made it back to his quarters when he heard the sound of a steam engine pulling up outside.
He looked out the window and saw an elegant carriage idling at the Academy gates. Black lacquer with silver trim, steam puffing gently from brass exhaust vents. On the door was an emblem: a silver wolf on a black shield.
The Kane family crest.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.
A driver in formal livery stood beside the carriage, waiting patiently. One of the Academy staff was already hurrying toward Asher's building, probably to deliver the summons.
Asher's borrowed memories supplied the context. Duke Aldric Kane didn't make requests. He made expectations. And when the Duke expected your presence, you showed up.
The knock came a minute later.
"Professor Kane? Duke Aldric requests your presence for dinner. The carriage is waiting."
No time to prepare. No time to study. Just thrown directly into the deep end with the family he supposedly belonged to but didn't actually know.
Perfect.
"Tell the driver I'll be right down," Asher called through the door.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Still wearing the black robes with silver embroidery from class. His silver hair was slightly disheveled from the stress of teaching. He looked tired.
But he also looked the part. Young, powerful, aristocratic. The adopted son of a Duke.
"Just another performance," he told his reflection. "You've done this before."
Not exactly this, but close enough. He'd pretended to be plenty of people he wasn't. Businessmen, doctors, lawyers, government officials. Adding "noble wizard" to the list wasn't that much of a stretch.
He grabbed his staff and headed down.
---
The carriage ride through the city was Asher's first real look at the capital beyond the Academy grounds.
And it was bizarre.
The streets were cobblestone, like something from medieval Europe. But running alongside the horse-drawn carts were steam-powered vehicles that chugged along on brass wheels, leaving trails of white vapor. Street lamps were magical – no flames, just steady glowing crystals that lit up as evening approached.
Buildings were a mix of old stone construction and newer designs incorporating metal frameworks and glass. One building had a massive gear system on its facade, turning slowly for no apparent reason except decoration. Another had magical advertisements floating above it, images that shifted and changed to show different products.
People on the streets wore everything from simple worker's clothes to elaborate noble fashions. Some carried walking sticks that were clearly magical focuses. Others had what looked like enchanted goggles or mechanical augmentations.
Steampunk fantasy world. It was growing on him.
"First time out this term, young master?" the driver called back through a speaking tube connecting the driver's seat to the passenger compartment.
"Just observing the city," Asher replied carefully. "It's been a while."
"Indeed, sir. The Duke was concerned during your illness. He'll be pleased to see you recovered."
The carriage climbed steadily upward through increasingly wealthy districts. The buildings got larger, the streets got cleaner, and the people got better dressed. This was where the money lived.
Finally, they reached the hilltop district where only the most powerful families had estates.
Kane Manor was impossible to miss.
It sprawled across several acres, surrounded by walls topped with what looked like magical wards – shimmering barriers that would probably fry anyone stupid enough to try climbing over. Guards in armor that mixed plate metal with mechanical augmentation patrolled the perimeter, carrying rifles that had both conventional barrels and glowing magical cores.
The gates opened automatically as the carriage approached, recognizing the family crest. They drove through gardens that mixed normal plants with magical ones – flowers that glowed softly, trees whose leaves changed colors in patterns, hedges trimmed into shapes that seemed to shift when you weren't looking directly at them.
The manor itself was gothic architecture meets industrial revolution. Stone towers with brass gutters and pipes. Stained glass windows showing family history. A massive entrance with doors that probably weighed a ton but swung open smoothly on mechanical hinges.
Asher stepped out of the carriage and a servant was immediately there to take his staff.
"Welcome home, Master Asher."
Home. Right.
"Thank you," he said, trying to sound like this was normal and not completely overwhelming.
The entrance hall was impressive enough to make him pause. Three stories tall with a chandelier that combined crystal and brass in some elaborate magical mechanism. Portraits lined the walls – ancestors of the Kane family, going back generations. At the end was a more recent painting: Duke Aldric himself, silver-haired like Asher, standing with an expression of dignified authority.
"The family is gathering in the dining room, sir," another servant said. "This way, please."
Asher followed, his mind racing through the borrowed memories trying to remember details about his supposed family.
Duke Aldric Kane – adopted father. Powerful, calculating, one of the most influential nobles in the kingdom. Took in orphaned Asher ten years ago for reasons not entirely clear.
Celeste Kane – adopted sister, age twenty. The Duke's daughter by birth. Relationship with Asher complicated. Sometimes ally, sometimes rival.
Damien Kane – adopted older brother, age twenty-four. The Duke's son by birth and original heir until Asher showed magical talent. Currently very bitter about being displaced.
And possibly others. The memories were fuzzy on extended family.
The dining room was exactly what you'd expect from a Duke's home. Long table that could seat twenty, currently set for four. More portraits on the walls. A fireplace big enough to roast a whole pig. Windows overlooking the city below.
Three people were already present.
Duke Aldric Kane sat at the head of the table. He was in his fifties, silver hair neatly trimmed, face lined with the kind of weathering that came from decades of political maneuvering. He wore formal clothing that managed to look both elegant and practical – clearly expensive but designed to allow movement. His eyes were sharp and calculating as they locked onto Asher.
"Asher," he said. Not warm, but not cold either. Measured. "You look well. The Academy agrees with you."
"Thank you, Father." The word felt strange in Asher's mouth, but he said it naturally. "I apologize for my recent absence."
"Illness happens to even the strongest." Duke Aldric gestured to a seat. "Please, join us."
To the Duke's right sat a young woman with features similar to Asher's – the silver hair and aristocratic bone structure that marked Kane blood. But her eyes were different, a deep blue rather than silver. She wore an elegant dress in dark blue with silver accents, and her expression as she looked at Asher was carefully neutral.
Celeste Kane.
"Brother," she said with a slight nod. "You seem different. The illness changed you?"
Dangerous question wrapped in casual conversation.
"Near-death has a way of adjusting one's perspective," Asher replied, taking his seat.
To the Duke's left sat a young man who didn't bother hiding his hostility. Damien Kane was broader than Asher, built like someone who trained for combat rather than magical study. His hair was darker, more brown than silver, and his jaw was set in a permanent expression of resentment.
"Still playing professor, little brother?" Damien said. "Must be nice, having everything handed to you."
"Damien," Duke Aldric said quietly, but with enough weight that Damien immediately shut up.
Asher filed that away. The Duke kept control through measured authority, not loud displays.
Servants brought the first course – some kind of soup with vegetables and what might have been magical herbs floating in it. It glowed faintly.
"I heard about your lecture today," Duke Aldric said casually. "Professor Blackwood mentioned you're using... unconventional teaching methods."
Of course Blackwood had reported already. Political rivals wasted no time.
"Evolution of technique," Asher said smoothly. "My illness gave me time to reconsider my approach. I believe the students benefit from more practical applications."
"Hmm." Duke Aldric sipped his soup. "Blackwood seemed concerned you were deviating from established curriculum."
"Blackwood is concerned about anything that doesn't originate with him," Celeste observed. "He's been trying to expand his department's influence for months."
"Politics," Damien muttered. "Everything at that Academy is politics."
"Everything everywhere is politics, my son," Duke Aldric said. "The sooner you accept that, the more effective you'll be."
Asher ate carefully, using the time to observe. Duke Aldric was testing him with small conversational traps. Celeste was analyzing him, looking for weaknesses or changes. Damien was just angry.
Classic family dynamics of a noble house. Everyone jockeying for position, even at dinner.
"Speaking of politics," Duke Aldric continued, "I've received word that Duke Whitmore wishes to meet with you."
"Marcus mentioned it," Asher confirmed. "Tomorrow evening."
"And will you accept?"
"I already have."
Duke Aldric nodded approvingly. "Good. Whitmore is Royalist faction. He'll try to recruit you or at least determine where your loyalties lie."
"And where do my loyalties lie?" Asher asked carefully.
"To family first," Duke Aldric said. "But publicly? We remain neutral. The Kane family has survived for centuries by not picking sides too early."
"Walking the fence," Damien said bitterly. "Never committing to anything."
"Walking the fence means everyone wants our support," Celeste corrected. "Which means we have leverage. Something you'd understand if you thought strategically instead of emotionally."
Damien's knuckles went white around his spoon, but he didn't respond.
"Asher," Duke Aldric said, redirecting attention. "Your position is unique. You're Academy faculty, which gives you influence in educational matters. You're my son, which gives you political weight. You're young enough to be underestimated but skilled enough to be valuable."
"A useful combination," Asher agreed, reading between the lines. The Duke wanted to use his position for something.
"Quite. So when you meet with Whitmore tomorrow, I want you to listen carefully. Be polite, be noncommittal, but gather information. What are the Royalists planning? How hard are they pushing? Who else are they recruiting?"
So the Duke wanted him to spy on other nobles. Fair enough. That was basically what the FBI had wanted him to do with the mafia.
"I can do that," Asher said.
"I know you can. You've always been observant." Duke Aldric paused. "Though I must say, your recent behavior has been... different. Several people have commented."
Here it was. The real test.
Asher met the Duke's eyes steadily. "I faced death, Father. It changes a man. I've been reconsidering my priorities, my methods, my approach to everything. Surely that's understandable?"
"Understandable, yes." Duke Aldric studied him. "As long as your fundamental loyalty remains unchanged."
"To family first," Asher repeated the Duke's own words. "Always."
Something flickered in Duke Aldric's expression. Approval, maybe. Or calculation. Hard to tell.
"Good." The Duke returned to his soup. "Now, tell me about these students everyone speaks of. The five promising ones."
Asher launched into descriptions of Elena, Theo, Lyra, Jin, and Sophie. Partly because the Duke asked, partly because it was safer than talking about himself. He played up their potential, their different skills, their value.
"Building loyalty among students," Celeste observed. "Smart. Today's students are tomorrow's influential mages."
"I'm teaching them, not recruiting them," Asher said.
"Same thing, in the long term." She smiled slightly. "You always were good at making people want to follow you. Even if you didn't realize it."
Was that true of the original Asher? Or was she talking about something else?
"Unlike some people," Damien muttered, "who have to actually work for respect instead of having it given to them."
"Damien," Duke Aldric said, more sharply this time. "Enough."
"He was nobody," Damien said, the bitterness finally breaking through. "A sick orphan boy you found in the slums. And now he's the heir? Now he gets everything I worked my entire life for?"
The table went silent.
Duke Aldric set down his spoon very carefully. "Would you like to know why I made that choice?"
"Please," Damien said. "Enlighten me."
"Because Asher has something you lack." Duke Aldric's voice was cold now. "Potential. You trained hard, yes. You learned to fight, to command, to lead. But you have average magical ability at best. Asher, at age eleven, showed more raw talent than you'd displayed in twenty years."
The words landed like physical blows. Damien's face went red.
"This family needs more than a competent soldier," Duke Aldric continued. "It needs someone who can navigate the changing world. Magic and politics, tradition and innovation. Asher can bridge those worlds. You cannot."
Asher felt genuinely bad for Damien. Yeah, the guy was hostile, but hearing your father say you weren't good enough? That had to hurt.
"Father—" Celeste started.
"It's the truth," Duke Aldric said. "Harsh, but necessary. Damien needs to understand his place in this family, or he'll continue to destroy himself with resentment."
Damien stood up abruptly. "May I be excused?"
"Yes," Duke Aldric said. "Think about what I've said."
Damien left without looking at anyone. The door closed behind him with more force than necessary.
Asher, Celeste, and Duke Aldric sat in uncomfortable silence.
"Was that necessary?" Celeste finally asked.
"Yes," Duke Aldric said. "He needed to hear it. Better from me than from the world."
He turned to Asher. "You understand why you're the heir?"
"Because I have magical talent," Asher said carefully.
"More than that. You have adaptability. Intelligence. The ability to see opportunities others miss." Duke Aldric leaned forward. "Do you know why I adopted you, Asher?"
Asher shook his head. The borrowed memories didn't have that answer.
"Your parents were powerful mages. Very powerful. They were also investigating something dangerous." Duke Aldric paused. "They died when you were seven. Officially, it was a magical accident. Unofficially, they were killed."
This was new information. Important information.
"By who?" Asher asked.
"That's the question, isn't it?" Duke Aldric said. "They were close to discovering something. Something that scared very powerful people. When they died, you disappeared into the slums. I spent four years searching for you."
"Why?"
"Because I owed your father my life. He saved me during the Eastern War. I swore I would protect his family if anything happened to him." Duke Aldric's expression softened slightly. "When I finally found you, you were sick, starving, but still alive. Still fighting. That impressed me more than any magical talent."
Asher absorbed this. So the original Asher's parents had been killed for investigating something. And Duke Aldric had adopted him out of debt and genuine care.
That complicated things.
"What were they investigating?" Asher asked.
"I don't know the details. But it involved reincarnation." Duke Aldric watched Asher's reaction carefully. "The theory that souls can return in new bodies, carrying memories of past lives."
Asher kept his face neutral, but internally he was screaming. The original Asher's parents were investigating reincarnation. The same topic The Order had him steal documents about. The same thing that got the original Asher killed.
This was all connected.
"Interesting topic," Asher said carefully. "Why would that be dangerous?"
"Because if reincarnation is real, it means certain people might remember things they shouldn't. Secrets from past lives. Hidden knowledge." Duke Aldric leaned back. "And there are organizations that would kill to keep certain secrets buried."
"Organizations like what?"
"That," Duke Aldric said, "is what your parents died trying to discover."
Celeste had been quiet during this exchange, but now she spoke. "Father, why are you telling him this now?"
"Because he's old enough to know the truth. And because..." Duke Aldric looked at Asher intently. "Because you've changed, Asher. Celeste is right. Something fundamental is different about you since your illness. The way you speak, the way you think, even the way you carry yourself."
Danger. Serious danger.
"I told you—" Asher started.
"I know what you told me. Near-death changes people." Duke Aldric held up a hand. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm simply observing. And I want you to know that whatever has changed, whoever you are now, you're still my son. You're still under my protection."
The words hit harder than expected. Duke Aldric knew something was different. Maybe not the full truth, but he suspected. And instead of threatening or investigating, he was offering protection.
"Thank you, Father," Asher said quietly.
"Just remember what I said. Family first. Loyalty matters more than blood." Duke Aldric stood. "Now, I have work to do. Celeste, show your brother the modifications we've made to the eastern wing. Asher might find them interesting."
He left, and suddenly Asher was alone with Celeste.
She studied him with those calculating blue eyes. "He knows, you know."
"Knows what?"
"That you're not entirely the brother I grew up with." Celeste stood and walked to the window. "I know it too. The question is, what are you?"
Asher's heart pounded, but he kept his voice steady. "I'm your brother."
"Are you?" She turned to face him. "The Asher I knew was brilliant but distant. Cold, even. Focused only on his research and advancement. He didn't joke with students. Didn't show empathy. Certainly didn't care about teaching effectiveness."
"People change."
"Not that much. Not that fast." Celeste walked closer. "But here's the interesting thing. Whatever you are now? I think I prefer it. The old Asher was becoming someone I didn't like very much. This version? More human."
Asher didn't know how to respond to that.
"I won't tell Father my suspicions," Celeste continued. "Because whoever you are, you're safer for this family than what my brother was becoming. He was obsessed, paranoid, investigating things that got our real parents killed. If that part of him is gone? Good."
"What if I'm dangerous?" Asher asked.
"Are you?"
"I don't know yet."
Celeste laughed. "Honest answer. I appreciate that." She headed for the door, then paused. "One more thing. Be careful at the Academy. The Order is watching you."
Asher's blood ran cold. "What do you know about The Order?"
"That they exist. That they're dangerous. And that my brother was involved with them." She looked back over her shoulder. "I don't know if you're still involved. But if you are? Be very, very careful. They don't tolerate betrayal."
She left, leaving Asher standing alone in the dining room with far too many new pieces of information and not enough understanding to put them together.
The original Asher's parents investigated reincarnation and were killed.
The original Asher continued that investigation and was killed.
The Order was connected to all of it.
And now Asher – the seventh life of a reincarnating soul – was stuck in the middle of the same conspiracy that had killed the body he now inhabited.
"Well," he muttered to himself. "This just keeps getting better."
A servant appeared. "Master Asher? Your carriage is ready whenever you wish to return to the Academy."
"Thank you. I'll leave now."
On the ride back, Asher stared out at the darkenin