The Hall of Assignments was unusually quiet, the last traces of daylight slanting in through the high windows, casting long golden bars across the floor.

At a small desk tucked into the far corner, a junior scribe flipped through a growing stack of reports. It was tedious work—recording newly Classed individuals in the Realms, logging their aptitudes, bundling the results for the Overseers to review. Most days, the System reports were predictable. Another Fighter. Another Spell Lord. Another Scout.

The scribe yawned and reached for the next sheet. Her eyes glazed over for a moment—

Then sharpened. Her hand froze in midair.

She double-checked the name, the Class, the System confirmation stamp.

Another page. Another strange Class. And another.

Her heartbeat quickened. Hastily gathering the stack, she rose, clutching the papers to her chest, and hurried down the long hallways toward the Overseers' wing. Every echo of her steps seemed too loud.

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She rapped once at the heavy oak door, then entered at the curt "Come" from within.

Inside, Overseer Blackwood sat at his desk, pen in hand, sorting correspondence. He looked up, his brows knitting together at the sight of her flushed, anxious face. "Scribe Peldrin?"

"Sir," she stammered, thrusting the stack toward him. "Today's System Classifications... there's something wrong."

Blackwood frowned, but accepted the papers. He skimmed the first sheet—then paused.

He flipped to the next. And the next.

Silent for a long moment, he read through half a dozen names, each accompanied by unfamiliar, impossible Class titles: Dreamweaver. Riftblade. Shadewarden.

Classes that, by every account, did not exist.

He set the papers down with deliberate care. "You did well to bring these to me immediately," he said quietly.

Peldrin bobbed a quick curtsy and fled the room.

Left alone, Blackwood leaned back in his chair. His eyes unfocused, staring somewhere far beyond the office walls. He exhaled slowly. "What have we done, Otter?" he murmured to the empty air.

The candlelight flickered, casting long, uncertain shadows across the stone floor.

End of Luckborn: Book 1

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