Chapter Forty Three

Moriarty Wentworth knew the name of things. And he used them ruthlessly. He knew of how things worked and the true nature of their beings.

His name wasn't a joke; he earned it, fighting tooth and nail to survive.

He formed his first sigil when he crossed a threshold that he couldn't before. It started when he was a boy.

Moriarty had always been a precocious child, obsessed with learning how things worked and how to bridge the gap between fact and fiction. He didn't believe in things like luck, fate, or destiny.

They were all bogus concepts to him. He attended an academy of the gifted, but it didn't mean much. He was bored of their antics and how they strutted about like they owned the place. He was an aristocrat from Bellamy, a state in Velor. Unlike Selene, Bellamy was a place where only the strong survived. Of the ten states that made up Velor, three of them were a law unto themselves, and Selene stood at the precipice.

Bellamy ranked second, but it was one of the least liked. In