I lingered in the doorway, watching Ljiljana clutch the ancient tome to her chest. Her weathered fingers traced patterns on its leather binding, her expression distant and troubled - so different from her usual sharp-tongued confidence.

  "You know," I kept my voice low as I approached her desk, "in all this chaos, I never got to ask you about that book. I rarely see you taking it out and for the past year I've taken some things for granted and went with it not asking any questions."

  She stiffened, her grip tightening on the volume. The metal corners caught the fluorescent light, casting strange shadows across her face. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes - fear? Guilt? But it vanished so quickly I might have imagined it.

  "Strange, isn't it?" Ljiljana's voice softened. "All this time working together, and we've never really discussed it." She placed the book on her desk, her fingers lingering on its worn surface. "You know, Aleksandar, this isn't just some ancient relic we're protecting. It's the cornerstone of everything we do."

  I pulled up a chair, intrigued. After years of cyber investigations, magical artifacts still fascinated me. "How so?"

  "First let me recap what you already know. Magic isn't what Hollywood sells you." She snorted, reminding me why I enjoyed our conversations. "No lightning bolts or magic wands. It's pure energy manipulation. Most people live their whole lives never knowing they're swimming in it."

  "Like fish not knowing they're in water?"

  "Exactly." She tapped the book's cover. "Some rare individuals can influence this energy naturally. But here's where it gets interesting - especially for someone like you." A knowing smile crossed her face. "Our hacker friends for years now are using magical energy to enhance their code. Big powers for past 30 years or so found themselves new magical playground on the web."

  I leaned forward, memories of bizarre digital anomalies clicking into place. "Those glitches I used to see in my police days..."

  "Not glitches at all. you've seen what a virus enhanced by magical energy can do, or a trojan horse that can literally sense its target." Her eyes lit up with concern. "The digital realm became a new frontier for magic. Most hackers are like accidental shamans, wielding powers they barely understand."

  "That much I've seen with my own eyes. It's not that different from amateur criminals getting their hands on some big guns and hitting the streets."

  "Modern technology created new pathways for ancient forces." She was slowly turning her tea mug on the table. "We're not just preventing data breaches - we're maintaining balance between two worlds that were bound to intersect at some point."

  "And this book?" I gestured toward the tome, watching as Ljiljana's expression shifted again.

  "This isn't just any grimoire." She opened it carefully, revealing yellowed pages covered in intricate symbols. "It's the focal point of our Order's power. Think of it as... well, imagine the most sophisticated quantum computer, but instead of processing data, it processes magical energy."

  The pages seemed to shimmer under the office lights. I'd seen enough magical artifacts to know this wasn't a trick of the fluorescents.

  "As its Keeper, I channel and distribute its power to our members." Her voice took on a formal tone I'd never heard before. "Without me, the book's knowledge remains locked away. I'm like a living key - or perhaps more accurately, a power transformer."

  I raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a responsibility."

  "More than you know." Ljiljana's fingers traced a particularly complex symbol. "Being a Keeper isn't just about protecting the book. We're chosen based on genetic predisposition and personal capability. We can read the energy patterns, interpret them, distribute them. But there's a cost."

  "What kind of cost?"

  She met my eyes, and for a moment, I saw something ancient in her gaze. "Once you take over this responsibility there is no going back. And some time before it happens we know exactly when and how we'll die. It's part of the role - we must prepare for the transfer of power to the next Keeper."

  All this time working together, and I'd never known she carried this burden.

  "The energy must flow," she continued, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. "When a Keeper dies, we can either transfer our power directly to a chosen successor, or store it temporarily in the book until a suitable candidate is found."

  "I've heard rumors," I ventured, thinking back to encrypted forum discussions, "that other organizations have their own books. Shadow of Dazhbog, for instance?"

  Ljiljana closed our grimoire with deliberate care. "Each major magical organization has their own focal point of power, yes. Though they manifest differently." She reached for her tea, now surely cold. "Shadow of Dazhbog's book is... darker. Their grimoire feeds on negative energy, pain, suffering. It's bound in black leather that never shows wear - some say it's human skin, though I've never gotten close enough to verify."

  "Charming bunch," I scoffed, suppressing a shudder.

  "Their influence has grown stronger in the Balkans lately." Her expression hardened. "They've been particularly active in Romania and Bulgaria. We've tracked several of their cells operating through underground networks, both digital and physical."

  I pulled up my laptop, clicking through recent reports. "That explains the surge in dark web activity we've been monitoring. Those weren't just regular cyber attacks, were they?"

  "No." Ljiljana's voice dropped lower. "They're trying to get into conventional networks with their spells. Imagine if they could corrupt data packets with malicious magical energy, spreading their influence through every connected device."

  "Christ." I ran a hand through my hair. "And here I was worried about regular malware."

  "You see the significance." She leaned forward, her eyes intense. "We're not just protecting data or even magical knowledge. We're preventing them from turning the entire digital infrastructure into a weapon of mass corruption."

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  "What about other groups?" I asked, thinking of whispered mentions in secure channels. "Surely we're not alone in this fight?"

  "There are others." Ljiljana nodded. "The Order of the Dragon still maintains influence in Hungary and parts of Croatia. The Guardians of the Ancient Way operate throughout Greece. But here, in Serbia..." She gestured to the book between us. "We're the main line of defense against Shadow of Dazhbog expansion."

  "Now it makes a bit more sense to be honest. So every time we stop a magical hack..." I began.

  "We're not just preventing data theft," Ljiljana finished. "We're maintaining the balance between light and dark, between order and chaos."

  "But it seems the attacks were more prominent in the past year. Wasn't there some truce signed?" I shifted in my chair, recalling fragments of encrypted documents I'd discovered during late-night investigations. "I've seen references to some agreement from the early 1900s."

  Ljiljana's face darkened. She closed the grimoire with a soft thud. "Ah, the Treaty of Thessaloniki. 1913, right after the Second Balkan War." She reached for her cold tea, grimacing at the first sip. "It wasn't just about stopping open warfare between magical organizations."

  "No?"

  "The world was changing too fast. Industrial revolution, new weapons, mass communication..." She gestured at my laptop. "The old ways of magical combat were becoming too dangerous. One rogue spell could affect thousands of people, maybe millions with the new telegraph networks."

  I leaned forward, fascinated. "So they established rules of engagement?"

  "More like mutual survival guidelines." Ljiljana's laugh held no humor. "The main provision was simple - no direct magical assassination of rival organization members. We could fight, spy, sabotage... but no killing."

  "That's why we focus on cyber warfare now?" The pieces clicked into place. "Digital combat doesn't break the letter of the law?"

  "Exactly." She tapped her fingers against the book. "But Shadow of Dazhbog has been pushing the boundaries lately. Those 'system failures' that cause fatal accidents? The 'random' power surges in hospitals? They're testing how far they can go without technically breaking the truce."

  My mind raced through recent cases. "Like that server room fire last month? The one that nearly trapped that admin inside?"

  "Now you're getting it." Ljiljana's eyes met mine, sharp and serious. "The truce kept us hidden from the public for a century. But technology's giving them new ways to hurt people while maintaining plausible deniability."

  "And if the truce breaks?"

  "Then we're looking at magical warfare in the age of internet and nuclear weapons." She shuddered. "And here your open-mindedness comes into the play, Aleksandar. You understand both worlds - the digital and the arcane. We need people who can fight them on both fronts."

  "Pffff, no pressure, ha?" I smiled. "So what about our fun case in the archives? Any idea what they were looking for?"

  Ljiljana's expression shifted, her brow furrowing as she considered my question. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, something flickering behind her eyes. I'd seen that look before - the moment when someone connects dots they'd rather leave unconnected.

  "I… Not sure..." She paused, "I should check with Milenko. He might have some insights about the archives. His historical knowledge could be valuable here."

  The abrupt change in her demeanor didn't escape my notice. After years of investigations, I'd learned to spot when someone was deflecting. But I also knew Ljiljana well enough to recognize when not to push.

  "Fair enough," I said, closing my laptop with a soft click. "Speaking of Milenko, I should also probably check with him when I'm back if he's found anything in those dusty volumes of his." I stretched, my back protesting from sitting too long. "Though knowing him, he's probably already lost in some 15th-century manuscript about weather magic or something."

  Ljiljana's shoulders relaxed slightly at my casual tone. "That man could get lost in a grocery list if it was written before 1900." Her attempt at humor felt forced, but I played along.

  "Remember when he spent three days analyzing that medieval recipe book, convinced it contained some health elixir spell?" I stood up, gathering my things. "Turned out it was just really bad handwriting."

  "To be fair, some of those dishes could probably raise the dead." She managed a small smile, but her hand hadn't left the grimoire's cover.

  I headed for my desk, pausing by the shelfs that were dividing the room. Behind me, I heard the soft scrape of chair legs as Ljiljana stood up. Through the reflection in the glass partition, I watched her carefully wrap the book in its protective cloth, her movements precise and practiced. Whatever she wasn't telling me about the archive attack, it had something to do with that book.

  I went back to my desk, reconnected all the electronics to recharge once more - it's never to much charge, watching the clock crawl towards our scheduled departure time. My laptop hummed softly, running diagnostics on last night's archive logs - not that I expected to find anything new. Whatever hit those systems knew how to cover its tracks.

  The whole situation made me think about my own journey into this bizarre world. More than a year ago, if someone had told me magic was real, I'd have laughed them out of the room. Now here I sat, treating magical cyber attacks like just another Tuesday at the office.

  "And to think I used to get excited about regular penetration testing," I mused, adjusting my AR glasses. The interface flickered with the remnants of Ljiljana's interference - those Soviet-era magical devices of hers played hell with modern tech.

  My gaze drifted to the worn copy of Neuromancer on my desk. Gibson had it partially right - cyberspace was a consensual hallucination, but not just of data. The digital realm had become a playground for forces older than silicon, powers that laughed at our binary certainties.

  Maybe that's why I adapted so quickly. All those nights reading sci-fi and fantasy, playing D&D in high school - they'd prepared me to accept the impossible. When that first case landed on my desk - a "routine" server crash that left traces of Byzantine protection symbols in the code - I didn't freeze up or deny what I was seeing.

  "Some detective you are," I chuckled to myself, remembering how I'd practically jumped at the chance to join TOMA when Goran recruited me. "Didn't even question why a corporate security division needed someone with expertise in getting info out of hackers, old school way."

  The truth was, it felt right. Like finding the missing piece of a puzzle I didn't know I was solving. Every weird case I'd encountered as a regular detective suddenly made sense. Those inexplicable network failures, the strange patterns in seemingly random crimes, the way some hackers seemed to have impossible luck - it all fell into place.

  My phone buzzed - a message from Goran: "Ready in 5. Bring the ECHO device."

  I reached for the brass contraption, unnaturally heavy for its size . A year ago, I would've dismissed it as some steampunk cosplay prop. Now I knew better. The crystal viewfinder glowed faintly, still sensing whatever had triggered it last night.

  "At least I'm not the only one who got pulled into this madness," I mused, looking around the office at my colleagues thankfull for having someone to share all of this with. I remembered my old partner from the force. When I left he'd transferred to cybercrime, or whatever they call it nowadays, and he is still chasing ordinary hackers with ordinary tools. Sometimes I wondered if he ever noticed the patterns I used to see, the cases that didn't quite add up.

  But that was the thing about magic in the modern world - it hid in plain sight, wrapped in layers of plausible deniability. Server crashes, power fluctuations, corrupted data - who'd suspect ancient forces were at play? We'd built a world so complex that magic could slip through the cracks without anyone noticing. And even if somehow you figure it out, there will always be someone, usually high up the food chain, yelling "conspiracy theories" and "fake news".

  The sound of Goran's office door opening snapped me back to the present. Time to focus. Whatever hit the archives last night wasn't your typical magical hack. The way Ljiljana reacted to my questions, the unusual magical elements, the complete erasure of evidence - something bigger was at play.

  I grabbed my coat, gear and the ECHO device, double-checking that enchanted USB drive was in my pocket. Just another day at the office, hunting magical hackers through the digital underground. Sometimes I still couldn't believe this was my life.