Hero, fighter, savior, protector of the oppressed, a knight without fear or reproach? Nothing like that. A sorcerer, a blackbook scholar, a werewolf—that’s what I was called. And yes, I really earned a very peculiar reputation—even among my own kind.
But how could I not help old colleagues—especially when the whole world is going down the drain? If only I had known back then how it would all end! A tiny mistake in the ritual—and now I’m in someone else’s world.
The year is 1909. The aristocrats endowed with Talent rule the world, and from the Breaches, all kinds of unclean things crawl right into the streets of Saint Petersburg.
No friends, no acquaintances, no money, no title—only an unfamiliar, skinny body; a gymnasium student’s cap; and miserable remnants of my former abilities. Still—what difference does it make? Work is work.