A day passed, and Leudora faced the turmoil caused by the Serpent's death. She spent her time in the Fasma Sanctuaries in Belgrade, doing her best to appear terrifying. As quickly as she could, Leudora sent a message to Kosar, starting her pro-Serpent campaign. With her silent consent, Kosar and Blažetin talked about the noble scientist, who had joined the Alka to serve his kin. The 'weird Serpent', the 'freak with artificial eyes', the 'mad scientist' was forgotten, his blurry face replaced by a carefully crafted image of a valiant hero and an example for the generations to come. Even his combat abilities became a myth, turning Leudora into a sly assassin who had betrayed the trust of a man who had agreed to negotiate with her. Leudora's plan worked perfectly: other Offcasts avoided her like a widening Veil breach, believing she was truly all-powerful and trembling at the thought of unleashing her wrath upon them. She wanted them to sign the Treaty, and so they did. Out of fear. She let Kosar tell them that nobody but the Serpent could stop her. And so he did.

Leudora barely raised an eyebrow when Ferenc Szemere, Veselina Gurova and her cousin Sava swept into a small Fasma Sanctuary in Belgrade, their faces twisted with horror. They showered her with questions, but she did not deign to justify any of her actions. Leudora did not mind all those beautifully-woven lies – there was a grain of truth in each of them. Veselina trembled, Szemere suspected something was amiss and Sava immediately branded her as a power-hungry maniac. Leudora only gazed at the walls of the Sanctuary with her dark empty eyes, picking at the pages of an old book she was holding: "I have nothing to say." When Szemere tried to approach her, she shot him an extinguishing glare. "I would not advise trying to read my timeline, Ferenc. It can be dangerous." He was not moved by the threat, but stopped anyway.

She was neither surprised nor revolted to witness most of her predictions come true. First, the gravity-switchers wanted her head. Then Despina Asenova and the Bulgarian energy-twisters entered the scene, rejecting the requests of her enemies. Predictably, she became a hero to the most radical Byzantine Bloods, much to her own distaste: Veselina's father and his followers loved her enough to kill everyone threatening her life. Isolated, she watched them name her their savior and their chance to take all the power beyond the Veil. And Leudora did not dissuade them. "The more they think I can take over the Realm, the better I can keep this fragile balance," she thought. She knew they would not strike without her guidance and leadership, and she was not going to lift a finger. Leudora had other plans: she was going to put Kosar on the Council and reform the Fasma. But just when she thought she could predict every move and every reaction of her opponents, she failed.

When Kosar reached out to her, she hurried to his rescue, hating herself for her sudden sentimentality. Leudora could not leave her debts unpaid. But instead of saving the keepers of the giant blood lily as well as the Magister of the Alka, she found a broken man clutching a dying child. She saved the child, wondering why all the Magisters were so quick to turn away from seemingly neutral Slovenian gravity-switchers and their own peer. The balance shifted again, and Guardian Jurčević became Magister Jurčević, making Slavoj Kosar a fugitive. Leudora's absence raised questions she could not fully answer, and she never bothered to explain, planting seeds for new rumours and suspicions.

When long-legged Laurenția with her thin braid appeared in Bucharest during Leudora's negotiations with the Archon, she claimed the Lovrens had stolen the blood lily.

"I have been in Koper, where the murder took place," Leudora said calmly, "Kosar escaped, but there was no sign of the Lovrens."

"Ha!" Laurenția fumed. "Two of them were stupid enough to challenge me! I will kill them!"

"That may not be wise," Calimachi interjected, but she stormed away, cursing and shouting at them. Something was very wrong, but Leudora was too occupied with the conditions of the peace treaty to pay enough attention to Laurenția. She asked Calimachi to supervise her: after all, the fulfilment of all the treaty's paragraphs was in his interest.

In less than two days Leudora found out that Laurenția killed two Lovrens in a frenzy that was uncharacteristic even for her short temper. Calimachi's agents could do nothing, one of them falling prey to Laurenția's braceter. "What have they done to provoke her?" Leudora wondered. "What have they truly done to send her on a wild chase and keep it a secret?" Rumors about Arta Rinari's interference spread quickly enough to warrant Leudora's attention. But there was little that she could do when the storm escalated.

When Councilor Constandache sold the Lascaris to the gravity-switchers, Leudora was not surprised: people would sell everything for peace and safety, and the Lascaris has become a threat, not without her help. She had lost two precious days rescuing Kosar and was the last one to appear at the meeting organized by her usually indifferent brother - Lenar Lascari. Was it another desperate attempt to reconcile their relatives? Why didn't he listen to her warnings? When the gravity-switchers attacked they hadn't counted on Leudora's presence. She would not call the lightning, but she did retaliate.

Her niece, young Amaltheia, crouched in the middle of that madness, and Leudora hurried to her rescue: if anyone was supposed to live through that hell, it would be her. She deserved to be the only sane Lascari in ten generations. Laurenția lost her leg, hobbling around on crutches and adjusting to her prosthesis, Lenar fell into a state of complete apathy, but Amaltheia survived. Because Leudora chose to drag her away. Because Leudora chose her to rule.

Lorei was the last one to sweep in with her Hungarian allies behind her and save the day. When her Rubenesque figure appeared in the doorway, she looked like an angel in her long white dress. Crystal tears slicked her round face and added an air of fragile elegance to her. Leudora stared at her sister, lowering her bloody hands sparking with electricity: Lorei had always had a knack for dramatic entrances. Leudora wondered if her terrifying reputation could be enhanced by her sister.

During the interrogation, Leudora feigned polite indifference. She casually offered Constandache to break her spine if he wanted to know more. He glared at her but backed off. They had no choice but to let her live. They needed her to be a weapon that could threaten the gravity-switchers. Her predictions were correct: nobody could decide if she was more of an asset dead or alive. Her shaky position became even more paradoxical when the Grand Magister refused to support the war effort, rendering any talk of Leudora's execution dangerous for the warmongering Lovrens and Duančićes. Strangely enough, she was right to rely on Blažetin.

A week later terrifying news came. Leudora learnt that someone had set fire to one of the Fasma libraries. The disaster resulted in her expulsion from the Fasma based on absurd and trumped up charges, which she could not dispel. She was exiled together with all the Lascaris. Did she know that Lorei would save them, confining them to Hungary? Leudora could never answer the question: she thought she knew, but she could not be sure. She had always crafted her strategies carefully, planning years if not decades in advance. But this time, a lot of variables warped out of control, and she watched people dance around, each following his own path. And Leudora waited.

Few dared to approach her, their vocal cords seizing up at the sight of her beautiful face. But Szemere was different. Before leaving, Leudora convinced him to stay behind.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you are more useful in the Fasma," she replied, "And because I cannot stay."

Szemere nodded and remained in Bucharest, performing the Keeper's duty. She had never expected the brown-eyed time-master to do anything less. His turul remained by his side as well as Professor Asenova. And Leudora left, her sights set on seven-year-old Amaltheia. She saw something in that solemn girl with a long sombre face. She had potential. Amaltheia witnessed an attempted slaughter of her family but never showed fear. "Can she make a better Lascari heir than the rest of us?" Leudora wondered.

The first time she entered her run-down Buda apartment, she opened a bottle of cherry liquor brought from Belgrade and took a sip. She did not bother to fetch herself a glass. Leudora drank slowly, grinning inwardly at the strange twists of her destiny. First, it was a sweet fragrance that stirred her senses. Then it was a raspy breeze that made her shiver. Leudora returned the bottle to the table and raised her eyes, only to see a wisteria flower in a jar on her windowsill. She approached it and slowly scrutinized the petals. This time she could barely suppress a bitter chuckle.

A ghostly figure appeared in the doorway behind her. Had she not been a Psychic, she would have been startled. Leudora stepped aside, staring incredulously at the familiar lines of his angular face. Dragomir Drašković was alive. He stood in front of her, wrapped in a long burgundy-colored coat that matched the dark shade of his hair.

"I suppose I need a better lock," Leudora said. The Serpent's unnatural eyes were fixed on hers, no wavering in his gaze. His mouth seemed to move, but he remained silent. Leudora spoke again.

"Last time I saw you, I remember you had no pulse."

He stretched out his long arm.

"If you insist, Lady Basilisk."

She retracted her hand, resisting the temptation.

"To me people are as real as their energy."

He nodded gravely and traced the laced back of a squeaky armchair.

"You surprise, Lady Galbur. But you do not disappoint," he cocked his head to the side, barely moving. His emotions were concealed behind the white drape of his calm face, but his presence still hung heavily in the air. Leudora said nothing, staring at the wall and avoiding the Serpent's icy glare.

"Your actions were... remarkable," he uttered slowly, "You could have become a saint. You chose to be a demon instead. Why? To punish yourself?" Despite his efforts to appear disinterested, he sounded perplexed. "Did you really think people can like me? I don't recognize myself in the image that you have created."

"You've grown so accustomed to being hated and feared that you never thought you could be something more than a horror story."

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to abuse that image?"

She barely lifted an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't. We both despise those who prize victimhood, repudiate logic and extol activism over inquiry."

A flash of bitter anger appeared beneath his mask of cold indifference. Leudora recognized the strain in his tightly clasped hands: this was the behaviour of a man who had never allowed himself to hope.

"An image of a hero doesn't suit me. You think you know me, but you do not."

"I don't think I do," Leudora interjected with a swift gesture of her hand, "I don't think you do either."

Dragomir Drašković's eyes widened, meanwhile his hand disappeared in the pocket of his coat only to resurface holding a tiny bottle filled with strange sparkly liquid and a tiny silvery needle.

"A present," he elaborated, "You may require it."

Leudora stared at the bottle.

"I am disappointed. Unless it's liquor."

His thin lips barely moved.

"It is the most powerful poison neutralizer existing in this world. It took me 6 years to create it. The effect lasts no more than a day... and, as you have witnessed, it induces a death-like slumber. You may be the only other Offcast to possess one." He left the bottle standing on the table. Then he placed a needle beside it. "A tracker. A refitted Ancestor device. Deadly by itself, but twice more with the poisonous substance hidden at its core. It will be most fortunate if you never have to use it. But terrible actions require terrible retributions. And the choice will be yours."

"Why?" Leudora asked, her voice barely audible.

"Because a single person should never decide the fate of the world. Even myself."

Leudora only shook her head bitterly.

"This peace will not last. With or without your potions. Was it worth it, Magister Drašković?"

He was silent for a long moment, allowing Leudora to stare at his chiseled profile with a narrow aquiline nose: she thought that whoever compared Drašković to a Balkan horned viper had an astonishing eye for detail. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Yes, it was," he answered coldly. "I wanted to achieve peace and I have achieved it."

Leudora scoffed and leaned back.

"I believe so. But you don't. You have Jurčević as a Magister interfering with Blažetin's plans and your own mentor accused of murder. Is this your idea of a spotless victory?"

"I am a patient man. For now, peace is more important than ambition."

"Lands and power, you can retake. Lives and time – never."

The Serpent's vividly colored eyes pierced Leudora, jolting her to a halt.

"If you indeed condemn my conduct as much as you show currently, why aren't you shouting about my miraculous resurrection already?"

Leudora did not answer. She only stared at the vial on the table.

"I have my own network, Lady Basilisk. With time it will only grow, allowing me to avoid the obstacles set by my family. If peace requires my death, I will not hesitate. Nobody will mourn. Besides, I don't care for revenge. My sister will lead a normal life knowing that she will never be used as a pawn against me by my father and uncle. I only wish to ensure that she never gets an idea to avenge me."

Leudora raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had made enough enemies for her to choose from."

"Those in my family are the most dangerous. My uncle Tomislav targeted both of us with his poison. But I have decided otherwise."

"Should I suggest that you were the one to plant the idea of using blood-lily poison into his head?" Leudora asked carefully, tilting her head to the side. For a second, she thought she could see the green ice in the Serpent's eyes crack. A shadow of a wry smile crossed his lips.

"He would not know where to find it on his own."

"Not easy to come by."

"Unless his trusted friend Jurčević happens to stumble upon a magnificent example of this rare ingredient and... overhear Guardian Kara talk about its effects."

"Interesting," Leudora did not know herself if she was revolted or strangely astonished by his skillful manipulations.

"My uncle is a crude man. But he can be useful," he paused, "I am the Red Leader. I must make use of such..." he could not utter the word 'people' and finished with 'opportunities' instead.

"These 'opportunities' will come to destroy you," she frowned. Drašković stepped away from the window, his coat flapping behind as he paced silently in the room.

"I am planning to change the world, Lady Galbur. Lesser aims simply do not deserve attention. Every power can be undone. That's not an excuse for cowardice," he paused, "I cannot allow personal grudges to cloud my judgement. Haven't you done the same after your mother's attempt to assassinate you?"

Leudora's pale face became even whiter. Why did it still rankle?

"It doesn't matter."

A familiar expression of faint disdain appeared on his long otherworldly face.

"Because you decided it did not."

She slowly rose from her armchair and prepared to leave the room, but he barred her way, materializing out of nowhere once again. Leudora stepped aside.

"I don't think we have much to talk about, Lord Serpent."

"As you wish," he replied with perfect courtesy and withdrew. Before leaving the apartment, he stopped and tilted his head to the side.

"You may hear from Orjeta Myzeqari. She seems to appreciate your candor."

He was not wrong. Orjeta was out there for her. Strange and unpredictable, she appeared when it pleased her. She was different from everybody else: Guardian Myzeqari was not interested in politics. After Slavoj's demise, she left the Alka only to follow the Red Leader she had grudgingly grown to respect. Leudora could not understand her choice. She would often think that it was Orjeta's rebellious spirit that pushed her to break all the established rules. She respected Dragomir Drašković, and that was enough for her to follow him. She did not need another explanation: whatever the Dalmatian Serpent had in his mind, Orjeta Myzeqari followed him.

Leudora wished to erase all memories of that ethereal face, of those haunting eyes from her mind, but she never could. The Serpent would never stoop to stalk her, but neither would he let her forget him. Fragrant wisterias popping up on her windowsills out of nowhere spread their scent through the stuffy room, making her dizzy. Sometimes she would glimpse a familiar long figure in the Veil Breach over the Railway Station. Sometimes she would catch a sight of a composed angular face of a man, who had always been alone. Sometimes she would even be tempted to approach him. But whenever she drew closer, the mirage disappeared. Years passed. Nothing changed. Or,perhaps, one thing did. A frightening stranger became a hero for the new generation.