Volkov. Masquerade

A hero, a warrior, a savior, a protector of the destitute, a knight without fear and reproach? Nothing like that. A sorcerer, a black magician, a werewolf—that’s what they called me. What can I say? I really earned a rather peculiar reputation—even among those like me. But how can you not help old colleagues—especially when the whole world is going to pieces?

If only I’d known then how it would all end! A tiny mistake in the ritual—and now I’m in someone else’s world. It’s 1909. The world is ruled by aristocrats gifted with Talent, and all kinds of unclean things crawl from the Breakthroughs right onto the streets of St. Petersburg. No friends, no acquaintances, no money, no title—only an unfamiliar, scrawny body, a schoolboy’s cap, and miserable remnants of my former abilities. But what difference does it make? Work is work.