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It was a good period for Garrett. He had many occasions to show his talents. The city guards and the low districts rascals would not bother him now. His last job was to steal Lord Berkman's scepter. There was no major problem, even though the dead nobleman was lying in a pool of his own blood. If only Lord Berkman hadn't threatened to call his guards, everything would have gone quietly, as Garrett likes. But how long had it been since he had accomplished a 'clean' job?
Whatever! Thoughts of Garrett, the Master Thief, haunted the timid townspeople who took shelter behind their shutters when the night's murmuring began. With the break of day, it was time to go. Garrett moved closer to the window and leaned out, his face in the air.
Below, two guards chatted together, unaware of what had just taken place nearby.
- Rats! One guard said, "My new boots hurt!, I walked like an old woman all week long!"
- Ah! You are a poor, sensitive lad!, answered the other with a laugh.
- Alright, forget about it. And the sore footed guard left, walking like a duck.
Garrett waited and looked at the lone guard, dressed in a shiny helmet and a regulation coat of mail. He smelled the rancid sweat from the guard. It looked like the guard didn't want to leave, not at all. He felt great here. He even whistled a bawdy tune and sniggered.
Garrett couldn't wait any longer, as soon it would be day... One cautious step and another took him to the edge of the window sill. He looked around to see if anyone else was nearby. Seeing no one but the guard, he made his decision.
A dark shape landed at the guard's side, silently. The hit was quick, staggering, made by a talented hand. The guard collapsed slowly, without a noise, with his hand on his broken skull. The thief only glanced at the collapsed figure and then disappeared into the night.
Tired but satisfied, Garrett went home. He collapsed on his old bed. I only need to close my eyes for a couple of minutes, he thought, Just a short nap and I won't be so tired...
"Garrett? Where are you going, Garrett?" Through the fog of sleep, he heard a strange little voice singing. His weary mind struggled to identify the voice; to figure out what it was trying to tell him. "Where are you going?" said the feeble voice, going suddenly hoarse. "Don't go away, I can't see you...". And the voice was right' where was he going? There was a time when he did his job like an artist and was proud of it... when he was just a shadow, leaving no trace. But now? It's so much easier to kill... like a common thug.

Suddenly, he awoke in the dark of night. What had happened? He felt that something had changed. Light! He struck a light and his surroundings took shape dimly. "What is this!" he shouted, seeing the empty eye of a skeleton. He suddenly understood... he was in a nightmare...
The room was unfamiliar to him. In the middle, a strange and forbidding book... Was the answer in those pages?

Garrett got up and opened the book.

Good evening, Garrett. My name is Tregart and I am your friend. Did you sleep well? Excuse Mister Bones. He has never learned proper manners... waking people like that. I've been interested in you for a long time, Garrett, and your last feats only reinforce my feelings about you. I think you have great potential. You are a born killer, and it fills me with exultation. I wish you to continue to follow this promising path. Behind those doors, there's a strange mixture of feelings, both diverse and strong; and trials you will have to confront to win your freedom. Use your sword. It will guarantee your survival.
When all is over, we will meet and share a good meal with a fine rare wine. Then we can discuss your exploits.

It's up to you, Garrett. Show me that I am not wrong about you.