Young Writers Society

Morn

Morn hurried over to the Grand Hall, fuming. Damn Xavier with his damn plans and his damn cronies! They just had to make him angry, they just had to do things the hard way!

The Hall was only minutes away. Morn strode up to the side of it then stopped. It was time to stop fuming and cursing. It was time to be the assassin.

Nimbly, Morn jumped, and caught a jagged edge of the Grand Hall's outer shell. He heaved himself upwards then grabbed the next. Stealthily, he made his way up to the uppermost corner of the peak then stopped. He put his head to the ice, hoping to catch a word or two of what was said, or if they were even in there.

Nothing.

It was to be expected, the ice was mixed with rock and it would be almost impossible to hear anything through it.

Morn unsheathed his sword, and struck edge-first. The steel blade left a deep cut in the ice, showing grey black stone underneath.

Not good enough.

Morn allowed himself to fall down the peak before snagging another handhold. He struck again, shaving through a deep layer of ice again. More rock.

Grumbling, he moved up and repeated the action.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

It was night now. Morn was just about done with stealth.

He pounded the ice, smashing his blade against the rock, dulling the edge in his fury. Burn those scheming bastards! Those cursed little wretches! What where the planning in there dank little holes? Well, he would be there to find out, even If he had to wring there filthy little necks for it.



Garas Dorman stood guard at the Grand Hall. He'd always wondered what they did in there but the only answer he got was "deliberation."

"...and that's when Jorman bolted. I swear he ran so fast the snow went up in smoke behind him! That deer never stood a chance!"

Jordan broke down laughing as if killing that dear was the funniest thing in the world. Garas chuckled half-heartedly.

"I bet the missus had his hide for coming in with a dead stag, tracking mud and snow just about everywhere."

Garas laughed again.

"No-no, I bet she roasted him up and kept the stag as a husband!"

With that he doubled over, pounding the snow and heaving,

Garas laughed to, but calmed his mid was elsewhere.

"Jordan?"

The other man got up from the ground, still panting.

"Do you know what goes on in there?" Garas said, gesturing to the Hall behind them.

Jordan sighed.

"Garas you ask that everyday. And its been six years! What amount of "no" is enough for you?"

Garas shrugged and mumbled a quick "I dunno" under his breath.

That's when a shadow dropped from the sky.

A knife took Jordan in the neck so fast that the man didn't know he was dead. His mouth still moved, trying to raise the alarm.

Garas looked back, just in time to see a fist connect with his face.



The force of the blow sent a resounding knock through the massive door. Morn cackled. That was his plan, to knock on the door!

He pulled the guard in, putting a knife inches away from the man's throat.

"Your going to demand entrance right now or I'm going to put you where your friend is."

The guard spluttered, blood streaming from his nose, then shouted.

"OPEN THE DOORS!"

They waited in the cold for a few minutes, then the door opened.

Morn walked up to the opening then stopped. The Grand Hall opened to no one without permission.

He dragged the guard up in front of him, then proceeded to enter.

The guard was first through the door and instantly shouts of "don't kill him!" and "stop!" came from inside. Morn smiled to himself.

"I want everyone to move to the far wall now or this man dies." Morn stated, loud enough to be heard inside.

There was a second of nervous hesitation then slowly, the men and women in the Hall moved back until they huddled at the far wall, waiting.

Morn's knife came away from the guard's neck at the same time his foot connected with his back. The man flew forwards and Morn stepped in, ducking two swords aimed for his head. They kept men at the door at all times, the sneaky little bastards.

Morn swiveled, slicing through the kneecaps of one man then stood and jumped in the same motion, completing a full rotation. His leap sent him over the second swipe of the man on the left and he dropped to the ground well behind the poor fool's guard. A swift stroke, and the man was dead.

He turned, almost nonchalantly, and dodged a sword from his former captive. Fear, more than rage shone in the man's eyes. No one had dared attack this hall for decades.

They were all poorly trained.

The man's head flew off as Morn strode forwards.

"Now, who wants to tell me what happened in this Hall today?" He asked, a devilish grin on his blood smeared face.

Kaliska Tamarin
The Observatory

Lander visited with Kaliska for a good hour. They discussed the curiosities of the Observatory and the monstrous charcoal cat that Jeremiah had killed. Then the very man of which they were speaking stepped in for a moment to say that he was going to look around the Observatory for clues.

After he left, Lander yawned. "We've had a long day, Kaliska. Perhaps we should get some sleep."

Kaliska nodded, and the two girls retired to their own beds.

When Kaliska's skin touched the silky sheets, she fell asleep almost instantly. But just as quickly, a nightmare took hold of her. It wasn't about the hellcat as she might have expected, but about her father. The soldiers. Yelling and chasing them through the wilderness as she ran. Her machete swung wildly in her hands, cutting not only vines and leaves but her fingers too whenever it slipped. She ran into a colossal tree, twenty yards in diameter at least, and in desperation she took the machete and hacked at the bark.

Right when the blade hit the wood, the ground opened at her feet and she fell down, the earth swallowing her and then closing back up again. She tumbled down, down, down into a dark abyss, seeing nothing and hearing nothing but her own gasps.

With a start, she woke up. She felt the soft sheets with her arm and sighed with relief, sinking back into the pillows. She heard Lander's soft breath from across the room.

She rolled onto her side, wanting to get some rest, but her nerves were too high-strung and her heart was beating too fast.

I need some fresh air, she told herself, and left the room. She saw that Thomas and Jeremiah's door was still cracked open. Neither of them had returned yet.

She found her way through the hallways and down the winding stairs to get outside. The air in the inside of the Observatory seemed musty to her, and when she broke through the doors and into the moonlit basin, she sighed happily.

But the deafening silence of the forest was immediately unsettling. It was cold, but the air was still. The branches, leaves, and red buds were still. She could only hear her feet as they tread softly on the leaves and twigs that littered the undergrowth. She was always annoyed when others stomped around the forest with her and scared everything away, but now she was hearing her own footsteps and was annoyed with herself.

She found a weathered stone ledge and lifted herself up, climbing up to a higher spot on the Observatory wall and letting her feet dangle as she sat and calmed herself down. Staring into the depths of the Wilderness sparked her own memories of the forests in Layata. She missed her mother and Atohi, her cousin. One of Atohi's favorite children songs seemed to drift to her along the still wind, and she softly sang the first few lines of it as if she was singing it with him.

High above the vines and branches

A baby bird was found

Its feathers touched by the moon's light

Its startled eyes shined brown...

Right as she finished, Kaliska laughed with delight as an entire flock of birds lifted from the trees deep within the Wilderness and took to the air. The birds were far off along the horizon, just a cluster of tiny dots, but they were quickly making their way in the direction of the observatory. It was almost as if they were... fleeing from something.

Kaliska moaned. "No, no, no!" She clambered down the wall and lightly sprang to the ground, then flung open the Observatory's doors and headed to their dormitories. Thomas and Jeremiah's door was still ajar, but she checked anyway to see if they were inside. As she had expected, it was empty.

She cursed. Where were they?

Abel Capello Braum
Outside the observatory

The sides of the basin weren't steep but there was something eerie about the dark trees pinned to the gentle slope that hurried their footsteps. It was only when the trees started thinning out that Abel understood where the footsteps stopped - not disappeared - at the door to a tall, pale tower. Their prey had trapped itself.

Abel motioned to Javen and Nefari to stay with him as he slid silently down to the tower and pressed his back against the wall. Javen said nothing as always and Nefari only raised one amused eyebrow when he held up a hand to indicate that they should stay there. The sky overhead was darkening but the moon hung at a helpful angle and Abel crept around the building, one hand trailing on the wall and the other resting on the hilt of a poisoned short sword.

A full circuit of the building revealed there were no other obvious entrances, though the windows were not so high that a man couldn't shimmy down the bricks and survive.

A plan of action was unfolding itself as Abel reached the door again but a sound from inside broke through his thoughts.

"What now?" Nefari hissed. Her light grey leather armour shimmered in the moonlight and made her long brown plait stand out all the more. Abel imagined that she could press herself down in the long grass and maybe not be seen but Javen's dark, rippling arms didn't stand a chance. So should they hide or fight?

"Get out of sight," Abel hissed at the last moment and he backed off, pulling Nefari with him as Javen disappeared behind the tower. Nefari pushed at him angrily and gestured wildly at the building they were retreating from, moving further into the exposed ground between it and the dark trees.

The fear in her eyes sent a tremor through Abel's body as he pressed her down into the grass, his pale green armour blending perfectly with its long strokes. Abel kept an arm over Nefari's body so she wouldn't rise and then he watched as the girl slipped out of the building, her black hair in a long braid almost identical to Nefari's. She wasn't their prey. She moved well enough, climbing her way stealthily onto a ledge and sitting there with an idiotic grin on her face that made Abel's right hand twitch against the hilt of his short sword.How fun it would be to paint that smile in blood and make it permanent.

A sound overhead and then a stream of birds rushed past the observatory and the girl's face first lit up and then turned to terror. What were those idiots back in the woods doing now?! Abel cursed under his breath as the girl hurried back inside and took their element of surprise with her. Whatever she had thought those birds were fleeing from, she'd be prepared now and their prey would come bursting out of the observatory armed to the teeth.

But he would be ready for them.

- Xavier Maydock -
Grand Hall

For the first time in ages, my fingernails turned a deep shade of blue and my body shivered. Shivered. Even with several rock walls between me and the bitter outside air, the cold gripped me with great ferocity. This never happened to me; I was supposed to be past that.

I ran my fingers through the spikes of my hair and let out a sigh. Dammit, Aaron. Somehow, you’re able to push me down when you’re not. even. here.

My arms trembled as I gripped one wrist and dug my nails into the skin until I felt something like a trickle of warmth down the skin. The numbness unnerved me while giving me peace, however that worked. I guess another approach would’ve been to put on a jacket, any warmer clothing even, but I stayed rooted to my position on the makeshift bed, staring at the wall.

Any other time I wouldn’t need to. My mind just needed to shape up and suck it up. There were more important things to focus on, to plan. Many more broken things to fix.

“Breath, Xavier,” I muttered to the crowd of nothing, watching the hot breath come out plainly in front of me. “You’ve first got to learn how to persuade the unpredictable. Only then can you freeze to death.”

I was starting to sound more and more like Aaron. Suggesting and believing the impossible – please! Not like I had much of a choice, anymore, but that didn’t make it any less absurd.

How were a mere six supposed to find a secure the diamond? And how would “teaming up” with the Callitrix work? Would are parties work separately? And why the hell didn’t Aaron bother to fix out these details while I was still there to relay the news? The meeting would have been made so much simpler had that been the case.

The frustrations boiled and burned my chest, so I shoved my face into my hands and screamed. My breath warmed up the palms that muffled the noise, but the tips of my fingers felt like fire against my already freezing face. At least it was feeling, something more than dullness, no feeling.

If only there was a way to kill the cold. How many times would it have been strangled by now? Just as many times as the men it tormented with its icy breath.

As my mind started to fancy its angered desires, I pushed it back to the facts at hand, the certainties. There would be six of us, Daniel and myself at the head, with four – three others. (I guess if you counted the uncertainty.) Carbon would keep track of things behind.

But, oh God, if that wasn’t a catastrophe waiting to happen, I really didn’t know what was. There were too many things we relied on working. Like Morn. That was one of the topics I brushed past like a bit of dust on my shoulder that I didn’t want there.

Too bad it couldn’t go away that easily.

The shriek that came next was like a properly timed coincidence, orchestrated almost. Who would’ve guessed? Thoughts of the devil of course spurred trouble.

Snatching the sheath with the short sword from beside me, I pushed myself up onto my feet and listened to the protests of my freezing muscles. That ought to teach them to dare be “cold” again. I unsheathed the weapon and threw its case back onto the thick blankets.

The wooden door was left slightly ajar, so I could hear voices – panicked, rushed, and low. I paused a second in front of it, adjusting the grip of my freezing fingers on the hilt. One, twice, three times I tossed it slightly in the air, the blade spinning, and still caught it, so I guess if it came down to a fight, I wouldn’t be too impaired.

Not that I hope it would regress to a fight.

With wood darkened from the elements, the door creaked on its hinges as I pushed it fully open and strode out into the hallway. Of all the possible culprits to confront, my first instinct went to Morn. That would be a fun talk to have – one I would rather avoid – but I didn’t doubt it would be him. Not even Harold is that bold.

Then came confirmation of the obvious when I turned the corner and was exposed to my first glimpse of the not so grand Grand Hall. Even from back here, with at least fifty more meters to go before I entered the Hall itself, I could see a man cloaked in black right the center. The severed head peeking out from behind his legs only insured that it was, indeed, Morn.

Oh joy. Aaron, if you’re not dead yet, please give me strength.

There was a tense silence about that hall that I could feel as I made my way forward, which probably came from the fact that an apparently crazed man came in and murdered several – or I assumed he did; that just sounds like Morn. Or maybe it was the fact that everything else had stopped and his gaze had fallen on me as I casually walked through the hallway.

My grip on the sword loosened, being held with the tips of my fingers so it dangled dangerously close to my leg. A smile crept onto my face as I greeted Morn, the man standing in the center of the carnage. He stared and watched and stood in utter silence while my steps echoed around the grand hall.

“Morn,” I said simply, watching the man as his wicked grin faltered and fell away. A knife glinted in his hand, dripping red onto the floor. “I see you made quite the extravagant entrance, but oh, what a mess. I don’t suppose you spared the front either?”

His jaw physically clenched as a scowl appeared on his face and he moved forward. The movements were intended to be deliberate, intimidating, serious and all around frightening. But I couldn’t wipe the idiotic smile off my face.

There was nothing fun or amusing about any of it. Just the fact that I was stuck in such a tough, uncomfortable position it felt so surreal. I could almost hear Aaron chanting, Dance, brother. Dance for me and I might not kill you.

The closer he moved, the more of his face I could truly see, like the red smeared across his face as well as his hands, and perhaps a smudge on his clothes. His voice was loud and purposeful. “Tell me everything.” The unsaid threat hung above my head.

Or I’ll kill you.

“Don’t be so hasty, Morn,” I replied with that cheeky smirk sugarcoating my tone. Directing my attention to the gathered group of makeshift hostages, I call out, “Would one of you mind clean up the mess? We don’t need the entire city making a ruckus out of nothing, huh?”

They looked at me with astonished glances as my interested seemed to glaze right over the true “seriousness” at hand. Bullshit. All it was Morn’s “bashful” way of showing he meant business; he had to know what went on without him.

“Now, if you will step right this way, sir,” I muttered, exaggerating the last word with extra emphasis and swinging the blade in my hands a little too much.

He didn’t flinch; he just stared me down with those cold eyes of his that were a warning of their own. “One wrong move,” they said. He didn’t care what happened to me. Nor did I.

With an exaggerated turn, I walked back down the little hallway leading away from the main scene. Behind me, there were whispers, possibly nervous glances cast along with them as I made the evident mistake of turning my back to Morn.

Why did I feel so bold? Why wasn’t I trembling and acting like a cornered animal? Because I led myself to my own corner. A room along with Morn: suicide! But he wouldn’t kill me, that I knew. Not yet at least. I still had the information he went through this for (even if it wasn’t necessarily difficult) and until it was in his possession, I was safe.

In front of the meeting room’s entrance, we stopped and I elbowed the entrance open, motioning him to go through. He hesitated a moment, watching me and slowly moving his gaze towards my blade. I could hardly hold the thing so lax anymore, with the feeling slipping so quickly from my fingers.

Damn it, why didn’t I put on a coat half an hour ago?

Somewhat satisfied he won’t be instantly ambushed, he moves inside and I follow, closing the door behind me. The room itself is rather dimly lit, with a set of three candles hardly burning anymore, those left over from the meeting earlier on. Morn stands a little bit away from the entrance, his trained gaze never leaving me.

I throw the blade onto the table and slide it away from me before proceeding to fumble for matches on the nearby table. That’s where I being my spiel. “So, you want to know all about that lovely meeting, eh?”

He didn’t reply, leaving the obvious answer hanging in the tense silence between us. Somehow managing to strike a match, I lit another candle next to one that was essentially burnt out and said, “Figured as much. Well, I meant to talk to you anyway, so such a shame so much blood was spilt. Man, that temper of yours: you’re really going to have to control that when we’re out in the Wilderness.”

I turned around to see his gaze up light up for just the briefest flash, before his grip tightened on his knife. What’s the point in prodding death if you don’t have a little fun with it? “Yeah, Aaron and I have been planning a little expedition into the Wilderness and we need some extra skills to help achieve the main goal. I presume mass killing is a good one to have in a place where the saying goes, ‘Kill or be killed’.”

Once the candle is lit, I blew out the match and placed the burnt stick next to the hilt of the short sword. My legs gave out soon after and I collapsed in a chair at the very edge of the long table. Motioning to one next to me, I said, “Care to join me?”

The hard silence that followed was a very obvious no, but I shrugged and continued, “Well, then as I was saying, it’d be a fantastic opportunity for you. I mean, get away from the city, the mountains and roam the forests. Who knows what we’ll find! Maybe even a rowdy batch of mercenaries that can become plain stains on your blade.”

There was no physical flinch, as expected, but only a flicker in his eyes as he stared me down, no word said. So, my voice continued to fill the room. “That is, if you decide to spare this stain.” I pointed to my chest. “I mean, why kill an innocent, frostbitten man who’s only here to help you, uh?”

Morn

Oh he was angry. Oh he was so very angry. And that WRETCH had to waltz in, laughing like a child, fear shining in his eyes and dripping from his palm.



"Care to join me?" Xavier asked, motioning to a chair.

Morn decided to continue ignoring him rather than slit his throat.

Eventually, Xavier finished talking, he stared at Morn intently, waiting for an answer.

"I...I will not kill you."

Xavier slumped, annoyed.

"Have you even been listening to me? I'm trying to tell you what you wanted to know? What you killed fo--"

"Stop! Be quiet!"

Xavier complied.

"This expedition. What is it's purpose?"

"So you did listen." The man smirked.

There was silence once more as Xavier composed himself except this time Morn was in no mood for it. He wanted answers.

"Have you ever heard of the Devil's Diamond?"

Morn glared at Xavier, banging his knife down on the table.

"Do not speak to me of fables and legends!"

"Then do not assume these are mere legends!"

Xavier was standing now, suddenly furious.

"You assume you are the one in charge here yet you hardly know what I speak of!"

Morn tightened his grasp on the knife until his knuckles turned white.

Extravagant! Hasty! Temper!

"And you will remember what they mean!"

Morn blinked, his grasp loosening. The sound had come from Xavier yet the voice belonged to another.

"Are you even listening to me?!"

Morn was silent, mouth slightly agape.

Remember!

The light flickered softly, the candle sputtering as it's life slowly faded. The wind outside whispered against the walls, filling the room with memories.

"Morn?"

He didn't react. Xavier sat back softly, then went to put out the flickering nub of wax.

Morn caught his hand, holding it, preventing it from snuffing out the dying light.

"What're you doing? Let go of me."

The light finally went out and the room became pitch black. Morn let go of the man's hand. They sat there for a minute, then,

"Tell me more about this expedi......adventure."

Thomas

Sometime during his trip to find the Dome of Vision, Thomas remembered that he was still undisguised, afterwards applying the same illusions as earlier. He was starting to tire, constantly having walked around or concentrated for more than five hours already. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to let a thing as simple as sleep thwart him, so he gathered his resolve and pressed on. Besides, sleep was for babies and kittens anyway.

Eventually, he did find the Dome – well, a window on the floor directly beneath the Dome – but a Vision initiate was loitering outside of it. Thomas froze, hoping the woman, a book in her hand, wouldn’t see, but the sudden movement caught her eye.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Thomas countered.

“Hah! Nice try, apprentice but this floor is reserved for initiates only. Now get moving, before I–”

Thomas had neither the time nor the patience to deal with yet another setback, so he struck her to the head with the butt of his matchlock pistol (which would have appeared out of thin air to anyone else). She dropped like a rock, Thomas catching her and hiding her body behind a nearby statue of a human-sized eagle. After that, he opened the window and carefully climbed through.

It was most certainly a ridiculous idea, but he had wasted enough time looking for the Dome, so he would not waste any more looking for a door, one which would most likely be hidden. Once outside, Thomas wondered how he had not seen any windows before; the observatory itself was probably under an extremely powerful illusion.

Thomas wanted to know whether one could see the windows only from inside, even if you were right against the building’s walls, but then he made the awful mistake of looking down. Six storeys were quite high, and Thomas shivered at the thought of what would happen to him should he fall, so he quickly looked back up. At least his question had been answered: no.

Gulping, he heaved himself onto the roof, aware of how small the ledge on which he stood was. He also made sure to put sufficient distance between himself and the ledge before standing up, for it had turned dark while they had been inside, with no lights outside. Luckily (Thomas seemed to have a lot of that lately, but he wondered when it would run out), the moon was full, allowing him to see the dim outline of another eagle statue, but larger than the one below.

Ignoring the statue, Thomas walked around it, towards the door in the wall of the dome (the dome did not cover the roof entirely, for that too, was an illusion). When he reached it, he felt the door for a key hole, but found nothing. Frowning, he felt again, but still, nothing.

“Search, and you might find, but ask, and you will be answered.”

Thomas spun around, looking for the source of the voice, but there was only the statue of the eagle. Then it descended – as the tiger-statue had predicted – on him, as a lightning bolt descends on an unsuspecting tree.

“The door isn’t opening without your say-so, is it?” Thomas asked, circling the eagle and facing it.

The statue spread its wings, flapping them a bit, before folding them back and looking down at (or perhaps on?) him. “Asked and answered.”

Definitely on. “And what would it take for you to do that?”

“First, you asked; now, you must answer.”

Thomas slapped his hand to his forehead and drew it down his face, sighing afterwards. “The Arch-Observer’s tiger wasn’t joking when he said you were cryptic. I suppose that means I must solve several riddles you are to ask me, right?”

“What am I?”

There had to be a trick… “An animated stone statue of an eagle,” Thomas replied slowly.

“True, but not correct.”

What? Oh! The eagle meant he would ask Thomas ‘What am I?’ questions rather than riddles. Essentially, they were the same, but since several separate hints were given, it ought to be easier. “Very well, I understand. Ask away.”

“You are aware of the consequences?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “With your type, the consequence is always death. As I said, ask away.”

“Ten: I am thrown to start a duel. What am I?”

“A glove.”

“Nine: I can only exist until you solve me. What am I?”

“A mystery.”

“Eight: I am both a symbol of enlightenment and destruction. What am I?”

Enlightenment was probably meant ambiguously. A candle? No. “A torch.”

“Seven: You can either keep me or share me, but if you decide to share me, I disappear. What am I?”

Hmm, with questions like that, the answer was always something abstract. “A secret.”

“Six: With me, you can escape, for I am the solution; however, losing me could cost you dearly. What am I?”

One could escape with many things, but what would one regret losing most? And then it must be a solution too…

“A key.”

“Five: Despite being thin, I hold things together, as I am also the logic in a thought and your life spun. What am I?”

Screws, nails, glue, and rope all held things together, but none of them were thin, and a ‘train of thought’ wouldn’t work for one’s life being spun. In fact, Thomas was rather reminded of the three Fates, determining one’s destiny by weaving–

“Thread.”

The eagle didn’t show any emotion as Thomas answered, simply asking the next question. “Four: I am the salt of the earth, and while I can measure both time and sense, I can eventually fall to dust. What am I?”

Thomas frowned – now that was a difficult question. Falling to dust made him contemplate the saying that man was born from dust and will eventually return to it, but man was also far too vain to be ‘the salt of the earth’. Time was measured through sand, but sand was definitely not used to measure sense. Wait… Yes!

“Grain.”

“Three: The enemy of sloth, I run on the spot, but I can also stop without having moved, and although I climb, I never run down. What am I?”

Well-used assonance. Hmm… whatever it was, it certainly sounded active. Productive too, yet not moving seems quite the opposite, truthfully. It couldn’t be something living, since none of the answers thus far had been, and besides, all living things had to move – even plants. No, he needed a different perspective. Abstract was not the way to go, otherwise he’d have said time, since it never stops. Although, maybe time wasn’t too far off. An hourglass? No, while they ran and could stop without having moved, they couldn’t climb. What else measured time?

“A clock.”

“Two: A combination of two opposites, with my rate of motion being dependent on others, I am male as well as female – yet I am neither male nor female. What am I?”

All Thomas had heard was a confusing string of words grouped to form a paradox. ‘A combination of two opposites’ could mean anything, so he’d have to get back to that later. ‘Rate of motion being dependent on others’ implied unwilling movement, but the part after that made no sense whatsoever. If something was simultaneously unisexual and asexual, it meant it resembled a living being – most likely humans. But what genderless, inanimate humanoid entailed a contradiction and could only move relative to others (others implying actual, living humans)?

Thomas scratched the hair behind his ear, aware that the eagle was still watching him, probably intently. He didn’t want to get as far as the second-to-last question simply to be ripped apart or dropped off a roof, so he’d simply have to gather his wits and push on.

All right, so what resembled a human? A doll, a mannequin, a wax figure, a statue, a portrait… No, he was grasping at straws. Fine, focus on the opposites: steam is water and fire, but a mirage doesn’t have to move. A ghost is a combination between life and death, but they move independently. Black and white gives grey, which isn’t useful, and light and dark gives… what? Shadow?

Thomas’ eyes widened. “A shadow!” he exclaimed.

Once again, the eagle was unfazed, revealing neither surprise nor disappointment when he asked his next question. “One: I am completely common, whether I am male, female, or both, and while I can arise from tradition, serve as a blessing, evoke emotions in others, or have no true purpose at all, I do not have to be proper, though that does not make me indecent. What am I?”

That sentence was far too long, and Thomas realised with growing horror he couldn’t remember the whole thing. He remembered that it was male or female that time, but then there was something about tradition, evoking emotions, being useless, and not being indecent when it isn’t proper. Panic began to set in, and he required all of his willpower not to despair. Thomas did not fear much, but what he felt at that moment was genuine trepidation.

Taking a breath, he thought about the clues again. Arising from tradition… tradition could be national, cultural, religious, or familial, so that was far too vague. Evoking emotions… well, anything could do that. If it could be purposeless, then it couldn’t be something necessary to survive, so it was something artificial. Oh, but genders were involved, so it couldn’t be artificial, simply something created by humans.

The more progress he made, the less sense the possible answer became. Thomas completely disregarded the clue concerning propriety and indecency, since that would merely confuse him even further. He repeated the clues in his head, knowing he was missing something, but still, it eluded him. Tradition, emotion, and gender. A political figure? No, no tradition. A saint? Traditional values were derived from saints’ lives… But a person could not possibly be useless. Perhaps something that represented the figures? How would one remember them…

“A name!” Thomas shouted, despite himself. His jaw dropped, horrified by his lack of composure, so he shook himself and repeated, softer that time, “You are a name.”

“If the Hidden One can defy his nature and reveal the answer, then he is worthy and Vision must reveal its secrets to him.” The eagle sighed and said, shaking its head, “You may pass.”

“Thank you.” Thomas nodded curtly at the eagle and passed, but once he was out of its sight, he beamed. He was not excited very often, but coming that close to dying made him appreciate his life more – making him as determined as ever to prevent Helle from getting her revenge.

He felt for the key hole again, but that time, he found it, along with the door knob. Unlocking it, he stepped inside the Dome of Vision. It was much brighter than outside, for while the walls still depicted the night, it showed bright swirls and irregular, multi-coloured clouds, the one resembling an eye, the other a mountain. The darkness between these bodies was sometimes blue, sometimes sheer black, and Thomas found himself enthralled by the scene. While he could recognise some of the constellations, he was overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the universe and simply stared for an undefined period of time.

It felt like a crime having to ignore the celestial magnificence, but eventually, he had to focus on the matters at hand.

“Show me the moment when I first saw Helle and the princess, in front of our quarters.”

Some people would feel foolish for giving a room an instruction, but Thomas felt confident it would work; his confidence was duly rewarded, for the scene appeared, frozen in time.Helle, who wanted him to believe her name was Falka, stood beside the Emperor’s daughter, facing Thomas, with the Arch-Observer beside them.

“Reverse the flow of time.”

He watched the two women and the old man retrace their steps. Helle and the princess walked back to the Observatory, out its doors, and back to the edge of the undergrowth. He suspiciously noted how they had emerged from the spot where that immense, black cat had been killed, the same as the party.

Further back still, Helle undressed and ran away with some weapons, which she scavenged off from a mangledcorpse. After replacing the weapons, she turned into a hawk and flew back to the princess, the two speaking to each other for some time (though Helle seemed to be doing a lot of threatening), after which Helle turned into a snow leopard. The two then approached the spot where the black cat lay, but what Helle did next shocked Thomas completely.

“Stop! Reverse, but let time flow slowly.”

Vexed, Thomas watched as Helle cleaned the cat’s wounds, then looked away before looking back at the princess. He let time reverse and continue again, but even slower than before. When Helle finished cleaning the cat’s body, Thomas ordered that time freeze again and walked around, looking at her. (During the playback, it was as if Thomas were among them, except the scene revolved around Helle, keeping her in the centre. Sometimes, he had to move to get a better view.)

“All right, proceed.”

Time resumed its flow, and there it was: Helle blinked away a single tear. Could it be that she and the beast had known each other?

“Reverse time again.”

Helle padded back into the Wilderness, the princess beside her, but suddenly stopped and pricked her ears. (Thomas assumed that was the point where Jeremiah had shot the cat.) The two then continued walking back until they reached the clearing where the corpse lay. Helle turned back into human and spoke to the princess, her body language indicating even more caution and hostility than before, and after about half a minute, the black cat walked into the glade and growled at the princess. (So, they had known each other.) The princess then walked away, after which the cat shifted into a human as well.

“What?!” Thomas’ jaw practically hit the floor. “Hold on, stop!” The scene paused while the two naked shifters were wiping blood from their mouths. “Ah, disgusting! Err, go back a bit more so I don’t have to see that.”

The two shifted into their respective feline forms and began tearing at the corpse. Thomas shivered and looked away, keeping an eye on them via his peripheral vision. At some point, Helle walked away and sat down, looking at the corpse, while the cat ripped out the victim’s throat. Suddenly, the man jumped up and began fighting the cat, after which Helle joined the fight.

A few minutes passed, after which Helle, and then the cat, disengaged and hid among the bracken. The princess entered the glade again, prompting the two shifters to leave and walk deeper into the Wilderness until they shifted back into their humans forms. They spoke for a while, amiably at first, but then suspiciously, afterwards turning back into animals and testing each other. Helle didn’t seem to know the cat, but somehow, she knew he was a shifter. The two then parted and Helle proceeded back the way she had come, always sniffing the ground.

“All right, stop. Proceed to the point where Helle and the other shifter first met. If possible, include sound.”

It was as if a box had been placed over the dome and was suddenly lifted, for sounds of the Wilderness flooded the scene. Thomas watched Helle intently as she stopped, twitched her ears, and look at a spot in the undergrowth, from which the black cat arrived. Helle softly growled at it, the cat hissing back, before sitting down and eyeing the other shifter cautiously.

They continued to stare, but Helle then shifted, saying, “Please, shift to your human form. I'd like to explain my business here. I don’t mean you any harm.”

The cat backed away and shifted as well.“What d’you want?” he asked suspiciously.“Why’re you here?”

“I’m following someone.” No surprise there.“I didn’t mean to pass through your territory, but–”

“You’re one of those shifters,” cat-boy said after snorting.

“What do you mean, ‘one of those’?” Helle asked, affronted.

“There’s no need to get offended,” cat-boy replied nonchalantly.“I only meant that you’re one of the shifters that never makes a home, that wanders from place to place.”

Helle hissed. “You have no idea why I'm here.”

“Then enlighten me. After that, you’re welcome to leave.”

“I’ve been hunting someone. If you’d stand aside and kindly let me follow his scent, I’d leave!”

“You’re hunting?” The cat-boy’s entire demeanour changed, and Thomas noted genuine excitement in his smile, but it was twisted into something more disturbing when he saw the sadistic glint in the bright yellow eyes. “In that case, can I help?”

“Help wouldn’t hurt. Do you have a name, or will you answer to profanity?”

“Ren. And you?”

“He–,” Helle checked herself.“Falka.”

“Stop,” Thomas instructed. He raised his hand for emphasis.

The scene froze, allowing him to reflect on the revelation. So, Helle had indeed come to kill him. At least that was no coincidence. But more importantly, Thomas knew that the princess was accompanying Helle against her will, so if he could just convince her to act as his informant, he would have an advantage over his opponent – and in that game of chess, he would need every advantage he could get.

At least the other shifter – what was his name? Ren? – was dead; having two shifters in the same building, one of whom had the advantage of it being his territory, would undoubtedly have resulted in Thomas’ death. Yes, he would have to ensure that Helle had as few friends as possible, starting with the–

“By the Black Star!”

From nowhere, the shifter had appeared, and while Thomas had already seen how large he was as a cat, the enormous beast was still a frightful visage. Without hesitation, Thomas drew his pistol and aimed at the cat’s head, cocking the weapon, but the shifter remained stationary, as if it were one of his illusions.

Thomas sighed in relief. “Good grief, I thought I was dead.” He looked around, trying to see whence the cat had come, but the scene had remained unchanged since he had paused it. “Hey, eagle statue! You were Vision’s pet, so you should know how things work. Get in here!”

It had been a long shot, but surprisingly, the eagle appeared just as suddenly as the shifter – except it was real, and quite annoyed. “The Hidden One may have a significant role in the Saga of the Wilderness, but sustaining a few injuries will not interfere in the telling.”

“Yes, I realise that was rude, but you’d have ignored me otherwise. Now, how did this…” Thomas glanced at the beast, “this illusion get here?”

“Vision reveals and conceals not.”

“Well I didn’t summon it.”

“If the Hidden One asks a question in the Dome of Vision,” the eagle replied impatiently, “the Dome answers.”

Thomas gazed at the apparition with curiosity. He hadn’t asked a question, but right before it had appeared, he’d pondered how to get an informant close to Helle. Simply having an illusion would never work; Thomas would need the actual Ren, but he was quite dead. The Observatory nevertheless thought Ren was essential, so his death must somehow be irrelevant.

Thomas tried to fathom how he could use a dead being as a spy, and even if he knew how to employ necromancy, he wouldn’t be able to recreate the original individual. In addition, the key to solving the mystery of full resurrection was beyond everyone, so that wasn’t an option either.

“Revisit that thought.”

Thomas gawked at the eagle, sniffed, and turned away. The inner recesses of one’s mind was meant to be a sanctuary, so for the boorish bird – Thomas hoped it heard that – to infringe upon that privacy was disgraceful. Still, if it persisted that “Vision reveals”, then Thomas had already discovered the solution to his problem.

So, what had he thought? Necromancy was futile, resurrection was beyond man’s capabilities… Wait. He had thought something about the key to solving the mystery of resurrection. Both of those were answers to two of the eagle’s riddles.

Thomas turned back to the eagle, his eyes widening (something that never happened). The eagle simply nodded.

“You mean…?”

“The four Arch-Observers had power beyond their understanding. Even in their twilight, some of that power lingers. We have suspected, but nothing is certain. You know what comes next.”

Before Thomas could respond, golden light enveloped him. When it faded, he found himself in front of the eagle at the entrance to the Dome, but it was an unmoving statue once more. He looked to his right, where the image of Ren still remained.

“You can’t really do anything yet, can you?” Thomas asked it.

Whether the illusion’s response was to confirm the suspicion by not doing anything, or whether it simply couldn’t do anything, Thomas did not know. Thus, he had to try something else, just to be sure.

“Ren, sit down.”

The apparition’s hind legs bent, making it seem as if it had sat down.

“All right, stand back up.”

The apparition did as it was instructed.

“Shift into your human form.”

Thomas had asked the question because Ren would be useless to him if he could only remain in his animal form, so Thomas had to reassure himself. Fortunately, the image of cat-Ren did shift into the image of human-Ren.

Satisfied, Thomas precariously climbed back onto the wall and crept through the window. He had not considered how the apparition would follow him, but he needn’t have fretted, for it was already waiting in the corridor. Apparently, it simply teleported when he was too far away.

Thomas regarded the fake Ren with a tilted head. “They say ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ but when that woman’s name happens to be Helle, a single misstep can result in one’s demise. Let’s see if we can help each other, eh?”



Thomas had completely lost track of time. The edges of the observatory at least still had windows, but the inside was only lit by torches. Dawn could have broken already, yet he would be none the wiser. He hoped that the Garden of Nature would at least be exposed to natural light; then again, considering the Observatory’s tendencies, that was unlikely.

His suspicion was confirmed when he finally arrived there. There was light, but not the magical sunlight he had inspected. Instead, it was artificial moonlight. Obviously, the Garden couldn’t be exposed to only moonlight otherwise the plants wouldn’t grow, so the ceiling had to be enchanted to give off the same light as outside.

In all his travels, Thomas had never seen such magic. It was beautiful… serene. The moonlit trees and wildflowers seemed frozen in a sacred landscape, as if from a world long gone. Around the edges of the Garden, vegetable patches of leeks, cabbages, onions, etc. grew. The centre of the Garden was sealed from view by walls completely covered in moss and climbing plants. Before one of those walls stood the statue of a magnificent stag. It was a pity he couldn’t stay there and just bathe in the splendour of it all, but he had limited time. Fortunately, it seemed the Initiates valued their sleep, for none of them were around.

Thomas produced the three keys and looked at them. Unsurprisingly, Vision’s key was shaped like an eagle and Chaos’ like a claw. Nature’s key, however, was perplexing. It was normal, with three teeth on the one side, but the odd thing was the small, silver rod hanging from a thread tied to the key. It looked almost like the chimes of the East.

A faint, metallic tinkling made him look up. “Son of banshee…”

It was a set of chimes, but where there were usually rods of varying sizes around the edge and then a single one in the centre, the one that struck the others and caused them to ring, there was nothing in the middle. Thomas raised the key into the appropriate space, but when nothing happened, he lowered it. Rather, he tried – an unseen force held the key in place.

He left the key and lowered his hand, and miraculously, the key just continued hanging in the air. A breeze then rustled the rod attached to it (whence the wind had come was beyond him, so he ascribed it as more of the Observatory’s magic), setting the chimes singing. Thomas listened to their soothing melody with closed eyes.

When they stopped, the key dropped onto his head, waking him from his reverie. He tucked it away, wondering how that had helped him gain access to the inner gardens, which was sealed off by walls, when the wind picked up again and set chimes elsewhere in the Garden ringing.

Thomas followed the sound, but as soon as he located the chimes, the wind would die down until the chimes stopped playing, before picking up again and blowing from a different direction. And so Thomas continued to follow the chimes, which always seemed simply to have appeared, allowing the tranquil sounds to lead him to the door.

At one point, they led him close to where he had started, but when they stopped and another set began playing, Thomas noticed something that made his heart sink.

The stag was no longer there.

Thomas recalled the immense size of its antlers, and while deer supposedly only used their horns for mating rituals, he imagined that one to be the exception. He hastened to follow the music, but they were no longer beautiful – they were haunting. The wind, too, had gained a different tone and sounded like an ominous howl, even though it was still little more than a breeze.

Thomas also periodically thought he heard a twig snap or a branch rustle, which made him spin around each time, simply to find more trees. The Gardens were actually more a small forest, for he was on the far side, where the moonlight pierced the canopy in shafts, illuminating the motes of dust.

When he heard a loud snap, he rushed towards the last pair of chimes, which hung in front of one of the inner walls. Thomas hurriedly brushed the vines and leaves out of the way, desperate to find the keyhole, for the stag was no longer playing hide, but seek; he could hear it crashing through the “forest”. Finally, he spotted the inconspicuous little hole, pressed the key inside, and turned it.

The bricks began spinning and sliding, peeling away from the opening. Thomas replaced the key and stepped inside, remembering to summon the fake Ren as the walls began returning to their original position. It appeared beside him just as they slid closed.

The inner Garden was more like a glen, with a pristine pool in the middle. Thomas sent the spectral Ren into its crystalline waters, all the while harbouring the thought that the Observatory must recreate the body as it had been when still alive. It then exited the pool, so Thomas touched its shoulder, holding his breath, but he needn’t have worried, for it was firm. He ordered the cat to shift and then repeated the process, but again, his reservations were unfounded.

He turned back to the wall and wondered whether the stag would still be there, but the same light from earlier, except emerald, enveloped him. When it faded, he was once again in the corridor outside the Garden.

“Hmm, convenient.”

***

Finding the Hall of Chaos was far more difficult, and when he eventually did, he sighed. The door was located in an antechamber, and above the arch that led to the antechamber there sat a great, ugly gargoyle.

“So, are you going to test my mind, or my body?”

The gargoyle sat still, observing Thomas with that same, lifeless gaze and mocking jeer.

“The latter, then. Fantastic.”

Bowing his head and shaking it, Thomas trudged underneath the arch. He had expected the gargoyle to climb down from its perch and follow him, but only the fake Ren did. One look at the door explained why: there were thirteen different keyholes. Choosing the wrong one would naturally result in the gargoyle’s animation.

Fortunately, there were two knight statues beside the door, and while the one on the left was missing its torso and head, the one on the right was only missing its left arm. In that statue’s remaining hand, there was a mace, and not just a stone mace, but an actual steel one.

Thomas stuck the key into a random keyhole and turned it, but nothing happened. As soon as he withdrew the key, the keyholes disappeared and a grinding sound came from outside. So predictable.

Thomas wrenched the mace from the statue’s hand and stood beside the arch. The antechamber was circular, so he couldn’t exactly ambush the gargoyle, but it gave him sufficient cover. The moment the stony head appeared, he swung, smashing the mace into its face. The gargoyle roared and tried to bat Thomas out of the way, but he had faced much faster rock trolls in another adventure, so he easily avoided the clumsy swipe.

He swung the mace from the other side, again hitting the gargoyle in the face, but then it entered, taking up most of the antechamber’s space. Thomas dove underneath the gargoyle, ordering fake-Ren to do the same and wait outside. Afterwards, he clambered up the gargoyle’s back, narrowly missing another swipe from its claws, before gathering all of his strength and bringing the mace down onto its head. The gargoyle sagged and collapsed onto the floor, merely rock once more.

“I’ve faced boggarts that put up more resistance,” Thomas remarked, leaning on the mace and panting. “Some guardian you are.”

He dropped the weapon and tried another keyhole, but again, when he pulled it out, they disappeared. The torches that had lined the walls died simultaneously.

“Ugh, what now?” He turned around to see the gargoyle get up again, but that time, it was cloaked in fire. “If I retract that statement, will you let me pass?”

The gargoyle roared.

“I thought not.”

Thomas grabbed for the mace, but the gargoyle snatched it before he could and snapped it in half. Apparently, it had learned from both of its mistakes. Lovely.

He regretted insulting the statue, for he had never fought anything that was on fire before. He had no way of dousing it with water, and he couldn’t exactly pull a sandstorm out of his pocket either. The only other way to put out a fire was to remove its source of air, and he could only do that by trapping it. Locking it in a room wouldn’t work, since it would simply break the door, so he’d have to trap it under rocks. But he didn’t have a rockslide up his pocket either.

Thomas dashed underneath the gargoyle and sprinted down the corridor, the fake-Ren beside him. Unluckily, the gargoyle had gained in speed as well, for it stampeded after him. He preferred the stag.

He continued running along the corridor, searching for anything that could help him. He did find aid after a few more turns, but from a cracked ceiling, against all expectations. It had already begun crumbling and looked like the slightest thing would bring it down. He picked up a chunk of rock that had already fallen down and waited. When the gargoyle found him again, he fell flat on the floor, letting the thing storm by above him. He then crawled to his feet and launched the chunk of rock at the ceiling.

Both he and the gargoyle looked up, but nothing happened. They looked back at each other, the gargoyle roaring and stepping forward, but then the ceiling suddenly gave way.

Thomas couldn’t believe his luck, so, praying in thanks to whatever gods he could remember, he made his way back to the Hall’s antechamber. The torches were still snuffed, so he had to grope for the keyholes. That time, when he chose another wrong one, they did not disappear. He tried all twelve (some of them multiple times), yet nothing happened, and only at the thirteenth attempt did he succeed. He was about to push open the door when he heard an all too familiar roar.

Turning around, he found the entrance to the antechamber blocked by the same gargoyle, though he was no longer cloaked in fire, but shadows.

“You know what, this door is unlocked, and so I’m going through. You can go to hell now, for all I care.”, Thomas marched through, followed by fake-Ren, and slammed the door shut.

The Hall was not all dusty, in stark contrast to everything outside it. Chaos had probably intended for it to look that way though, so he didn’t know why he was surprised. The gory tapestries looked like they had been woven the previous day, and the black marble glinted like a newly polished blade.

It was straining to the eye, all those dark colours; Thomas resolved to leave as soon as possible. He approached the altar, took the chalk, and drew a pentagram around it. He ordered fake-Ren to get onto it, placed bowls of incense at the four corners, and stood at the point of the pentagram that faced the rest of the Hall.

Raising his hands above him, he shouted, “Hall of Chaos, return Ren’s tormented soul to his newly-made body so that he may have a second chance at fulfilling his destiny!”

Thomas had never in his life spewed as much rubbish as he had then, but Chaos struck him as a dramatic kind of person, so he had made things as theatrical as possible. The words he had improvised. Hopefully, he stared at the now limp body, looking for any vital signs: the chest raising and lowering, the nose or mouth moving, anything. He dropped his arms to his side, disappointed.

The body’s great, yellow eyes were dead for a few seconds longer, but then fear - an emotion exclusive to the living - crept into them. They darted around wildly, seeing terrors no-one else could.

“Outstanding!” Thomas breathed, inspecting his handiwork with a critical, yet profoundly satisfied, eye, but not moving. “It actually worked.”

Those yellow eyes snapped into focus on Thomas – any trace of trepidation was replaced by pure malice. The cat got to its feet and curled its lips back in a snarl, its muscles tensed.

Thomas, however, stepped back and had his flintlock cocked and trained on the beast in less than two seconds. Either Ren’s soul had successfully taken residence in its new body, or some demon had. “It seems you have a bad history with firearms,” Thomas remarked, keeping his uncertainty out of his voice. “If you want to see whose reflexes are faster though, go ahead. Just remember, the next time you die, you will stay dead. If, on the other hand, you don’t plan on squandering your second chance, nod. Perceptibly, if you don’t mind.”

The cat continued to glare at Thomas, but he flicked his tail, closed his mouth, and nodded stiffly. Thomas mentally rejoiced.

“It’s good to see there’s some actual human intelligence behind that animal savagery. It’s that human to whom I wish to speak now, so shift.”

Ren’s skin rippled and turned deathly pale. His coal-black hair receded from most of his body and his pupils became rounder, but the irises remained that primal yellow, even when the boy got off the altar and stared at Thomas with crossed arms.

Shifters were a relatively uncommon sight, so Thomas didn’t often get the chance to see one change, but each time he had witnessed the transformation, he was fascinated by it. He had so many questions regarding the process, but shifters were normally animals in both body and mind, so it was rather difficult getting them to cooperate.

“You must be itching to ask me,” Thomas mused, “so fire away.” Realising he was still aiming his pistol at Ren, he chuckled at the irony and lowered it.

“How’d you bring me back to life?”

“An excellent question! First, I created a blueprint of your body in the Dome of Vision. Thence, we proceeded to the Garden of Nature, where I made your body tangible, and finally, here we are, in the Hall of Chaos. It is here where I returned your soul to your body. So, that answers where, what, and how. Now, you must choose among when, who, and why. Which will it be?”

Ren narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“The Hidden One has need of a Messenger,” Thomas replied, quoting the eagle.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“An ironic choice if words,” Thomas mused. “But a valid question. It means I require somebody to spy on a particular individual.”

“Who’s this ‘individual’ and why do you need me to do the spying?”

“You know her as Falka. That should also explain why I chose you.”

Ren crossed his arms. “You’re the one she’s hunting, aren’t you?”

“My, your observational skills are sharp. Then again, you think like an animal, so I shouldn't be surprised.”

Ren lowered his arms and clenched his fists. He looked like he wanted to shift, but the barrel that was once more aimed at his face convinced him not to.

“You know, you may be all clever and smug now, but as soon as you turn your back, you’re a dead man. But I won’t be the one to kill you - Falka, or Helle, whatever her name is, will have her wish. Then we’ll see if you’re still smiling when she rips your guts out.”

“There’s just one problem with that scenario – for you, of course: I just realised that I left out a step in your resurrection, namely, I neglected to take you to the Chamber of Thought. I don’t know what consequences this will hold for you, but I assume it will concern your physical form. Vision gave me the idea, and nature made it happen, but Thought should probably have realised it. Whatever happens, I can imagine you’d like being here more than being in hell.”

“I wasn’t in hell.”

“I don’t think people would be afraid of heaven. Unless you were still being judged…?”

“I was trapped in the Wilderness. If you die here, your soul can’t leave. I see you suffering that fate soon.”

“Err, no. If my guess is right, then leaving out Thought in your rebirth will cause you to alternate between living on the physical plane and the spectral plane, where your soul was. That means your soul isn’t completely free from the Wilderness. You might be able to leave, or you might not, but until I leave this jungle, your partially trapped soul is bound to me. Thus, you cannot kill me without burning your only bridge behind you. Is Helle’s revenge really worth more agony?”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“I knew better than to expect any gratitude from you, but I’ve been called worse anyway.”

“Actually, how do I know you’re telling the truth? For all I know, you could have gone to the Chamber of Thought, you’re just telling me this so that I’d obey you. And even if you told the truth about that, you seem to be doing a lot of guessing. How can you be so sure about all of this?”

“A little birdie made the suggestion, I simply followed it. There’s also this thing called deductive reasoning, which I use to make most of my guesses... Maybe you’ve heard about it?”

The boy glared at him again. “I have, and it’s telling me you seem like the type who deceives others to stay alive. I still think you’re bluffing.”

“Hmm... Maybe you should just stick to being a piece of meat after all...” Ren uttered a very loud snarl, causing Thomas to start, for it meant he had already begun shifting. “Oh, would you stop acting like a little child? If you keep setting yourself up for insults, you ought not to be surprised if you keep getting them. So stop your glaring and growling, stop trying to shift into your cat form, and make up your mind. Spy on ‘Falka’, or die.”

Ren remained silent for a moment before reluctantly answering, “There isn’t much of a choice.”

“There is, but you had the good sense to choose the right one. Now, how skilled are you at taking on malevolent statues? I’m afraid there’s one waiting for us outside, and we’re due to be beamed there shortly.”

“Here’s a fun fact: After I was made the Observatory’s official guard, the Arch-Observer hardened my claws so that they could pierce steel. A walking lump of rock will be a piece of cake.”

“Even a Chaotic one?”

“Pfft, they're my speciality!”

“Keep that enthusiasm, and I might stop insulting you.”

“I don’t need your approval,” Ren replied quickly.

At that moment, a crimson glow enveloped them both, depositing in the antechamber. “I never said you would get it,” Thomas responded. “Now, if you don’t mind–”

“I do.”

“I don’t care! Kill that gargoyle; I have other things to do.”

Berras

The Palace gardens

The midnight breeze was cool and soothing as Berras walked through the gardens outside of the Calliarus' residence. He didn't come here often, except when he sought the silent embrace of the labyrinthine gardens.

Several fireflies and crimson lanterns bathed the garden in a near magical glow. The soft drone of the great waterfall served as a monotonous accompaniment to the trickling of the several fountains in spaced throughout this sector of the garden closest to the Cliffside. It was utterly magnificent to Berras.

I wonder what's out there, Berras thought as the path he walking starting curving parallel to the escarp, One day I'll go out there, and feel how it is to be free.

Two guards on patrol passed by Berras, nodding slightly before continuing.

I wonder if I can get the prisoner... What's her name? Aaron, yes Aaron, to tell me about the Wilderness.

Berras continued walking in silence for several more minutes, before he heard two unmistakable voices in a heated conversation several yards ahead. He crept forward cautiously, and then he noticed four Thorns walking at a slow pace.

What is the Calliarus and Priestess discussing this late at night? Berras thought, going a bit closer to hear what they were talking about.

"... and I do not approve of this plan of yours," the Calliarus said.

"You admit that I am correct, though?" the Priestess said, her tone aggressive, "She bears all the signs, and at the very moment we plan to execute our duty to our Mistress?"

"But she is a guest," the Calliarus sounded just as aggressive, "and besides, we cannot execute the plan without the Heart of the Forest."

Guest? Duty? Heart of the Forest? Berras was extremely confused, and hoped to receive clarity by continuing his eavesdrop.

"...if only your 'protégée' nephew was more diligent," the Priestess said sarcastically.

"You just had to drag Thiander into this! He is preparing for the expedition as we speak!"

"My people would've been back with the Diamond ages ago had I been Calliarus," the Priestess was taunting the Calliarus now.

"But you aren't," the Calliarus replied calmly, "and as long as I still breathe, you will never be."

The proceeding had stopped at an intersection, and Berras quickly hid behind a nearby shrub.

"Oh, don't I know that all to well," the Priestess said, "but remember, it will be on your head if we fail to fulfill our duty, not mine."

"Make all the threats you want, Sienna," the Calliarus, "but you will not touch Aaron Maydock before Thiander has the Diamond!"

Berras almost gave his position away when he heard who they were arguing about. What does Aaron have to do with this?

"As you wish, Driazar," the High Priestess bowed as the Calliarus and his guards walked away, back to the palace. She stood waiting until he was out of sight, and then started talking to herself.

"Oh how I will love to see the look on his face when he gets what's coming for him," she said, her voice evil, "The fires will burn high and hot on that day."

She suddenly turned down the other route at the intersection, making her way to a small pavilion at the edge of the garden. Berras followed cautiously, eager to find out what was going on, but fearful of being caught.

The pavilion was extremely close to the waterfall, making the air around it humid and misty. The droning of the water was also louder here, giving this sector a more ominous atmosphere.

The pavilion itself was a small hexagonal structure, built from the same stone as the rest of Callypsis. The roof was made from dark terracotta tiles, with an oculus on the top. The walls were open arches, vines hanging down like natural curtains.

At the center was one of those statues Berras always despised- a small gargoyle like statue, with that evil jeer on its frozen face.

The Priestess made her way to this statue, and stood in front of it in complete silence. Berras hid behind yet another bush, peeking through the branches, his pulse beating percussively in his ears.

Then, just as Berras thought she wasn't doing anything suspicious, the Priestess put her hand upon the gargoyle's face, causing it to groan and flap its wings irritably.

"Now, now," the Priestess said as it tried to nip at her hand, "your Mistress wouldn't be pleased if you hurt her Priestess, would she?"

The gargoyle sat back on its pedestal, statue-like, yet clearly breathing.

What is happening?! Berras thought, having never seen such magic, This must be a dream...

"I can't speak to you like that. Come now," the Priestess was pacing before the gargoyle, "shift into a more sociable form."

The gargoyle then shifted into a teenage girl, her raven hair reaching her waist. Her eyes were silver-colored, but had a certain spark in them which proved to Berras that this was a real person.

"You always have spoil my fun, don't you?" the girl had a low voice, but not too masculine, "I was actually waiting to prank some poor soul, but I guess that'll have to wait."

"Yes, it will have to wait. I have a task for you."

The girl sighed and nimbly jumped off the pedestal. "You never bother me if you don't," she said, "Which miserable being do you want me to kill now?"

"Don't you give that tone to me," the Priestess said, "you still have a debt to pay to Callypso. Or have you forgotten?"

"I can't actually forget, can I?" the girl said , pulling on one of the vines, "but seriously, who do I have to kill for Her this time?"

"Actually, it is a bit more... Complicated than that."

The girl swung around, looking the Priestess in the eye. "I don't do complicated."

"If you complete this task," the Priestess began, "you will have paid your debt to Callypso, and will be free once more to do whatever you shifters do."

"I'm listening."

"The Calliarus' nephew, Thiander, is going into the Wilderness to complete his final task to become part of the highest caste in Callypsis. He is actually going to seek the Heart of the Forest, the Devil's Diamond.
"My task for you is, once he has recovered this stone, whether by sheer luck, stealing, with help, or any other way, I want you to ensure that he never returns home."

"Sounds easy enough," the girl said.

"But now comes the important part. Once you have killed him, I want you to bring the Diamond to me. After that, your final task will be to kill the Exile girl we have here as a prisoner. You can kill that misfit of a guard of hers as well."

"Why can't you just kill them after I brought you the Diamond? You have other associates for that."

The Priestess sighed long. "Do I have to explain everything to you?!"

"That will be helpful, yes."

"Ugh, your insolence is repulsive. I need the Diamond to free Callypso. The Exile girl is to be the vessel for her soul, but the real girl's soul must be removed from the body to ensure that my Mistress isn't hampered by some filthy Exile.
"The reason why you need to kill her, is because you are the last creature with a debt, and I can't risk exposing myself by killing the girl personally."

"Where can I find this Thiander, then?" the girl asked, looking extremely serious and grim.

"He will be leaving tomorrow in search of the Diamond. How you plan on getting close to him when the moment arises, is entirely up to you."

"Very well." And with that, the girl shifted and flew over the palace, into the city.

"I have some preparations to make," the Priestess said, walking back to her palace, "I can't have that fool Driazar get in my way, now can I..."


* * *

Commander Carlyle

"I am leaving for the Century City at dawn," Carlyle said to his second in command as he was cleaning his pistol.

"Anything wrong, Commander?"

"Nothing to concern yourself with, Corporal Furros. Madame Dunamis has just sent a letter requesting my presence in the City." Carlyle handed the letter with the black wax seal to Corporal Adam Furros, the son of Marcus Furros, one of the family heads of the Thirteen.

"I wonder what this might about?" Adam said, folding up the letter and placing it on the desk where he sat opposite Carlyle.

"I know not, but if the Head of the Circle personally sent me a letter, it must be important."

"Aye. So I should probably ensure that nothing happens here while you are away?"

"Naturally." Carlyle poured himself and Adam a glass of Eastern brandy, sent to him by his brother when the latter had traveled to those furthest reaches of the Empire earlier that year. "If any news were to arrive from the Viper, sent me a letter immediately."

"Do you think he's found lieutenant Hudson yet?" Adam asked.

"Well, if he hasn't, I am almost certain he is very close. That man is probably one of the best fighters I have had the pleasure of leading."

"I still can't see what he hoped to achieve with this expedition..."

"He said he wished to find the fabled Devil's Diamond," Carlyle took a sip of brandy, "but I know better. I know he merely wishes to search for my daughter, his... fiancé , and to undermine me."

"The Hudsons have always been a thorn in our side, yes. But without them our pact with the Wildershades would be broken, and..."

"And that would be an ill-fated day for the Empire, I know."

Looking out of the window as the fort bells sounded for midnight, Adam stood up and bowed to Carlyle.

"I must be away, Commander," he said, walking to the door, "I shall take care of things here at the fort while you are away."

"Thank you, Corporal," Carlyle said, also standing, "I'll take your greetings to your father in the City."

Morn

Morn immediately regretted going on the expedition.

Xavier, the little wretch, had no idea what he was doing, surrounded by guards he thought himself safe.

Xavier was still young. Young enough to not understand the Wilderness.

People called it the Wilderness for a reason, for there was no other word to describe the massive sprawling forest, filled to the brim with nothing but death. No men ventured in because those who did never came out.

And here Xavier was strolling into the damn thing like it was a goddamn park.

Morn spat silently, then picked up his pace, moving past small battalion of guards to come shoulder to shoulder with Xavier.

"We've done enough walking. What are your intentions? What's the plan?"

The wretch sighed.

"We're heading for the Diamond. According to the legend, it was in Callitrix hands last. So our heading is simple: East, towards the Callitrix empire. Happy?"

Morn sighed, then nodded, placated by Xavier's explanation.

"Fine. But the Callitrix aren't going to like this. They say it's their diamond."

Xavier scoffed.

"Well then the Callitrix wont need to know about our little expedition will they."

Morn laughed harshly, mockingly,

"And you're willing to risk what they might do to your little friend if they find out we've been wandering around their borders, looking for something they spent a whole army on to keep safe?"

Xavier just kept walking forwards, a spring in his step that seemed to poke fun at the question posed.

"You think I haven't thought of this? Morn. They wont be aware of our presence. If you trust me on anything, trust me on this."

Morn's reply was a deadly stare.

The noonday sun found the Exiles far east of their home, plodding through the thick swamps around the Callitrix border. They had made no stops, for the journey was a long one, and both Xavier and Morn agreed that it had to be made with the utmost haste.

Xavier trudged up to Morn, who had taken the lead a while back.

Morn was the only one who had dealt with swamps before. He knew where to walk.

"Morn. The soldiers are tired, none of us have had anything to eat or drink. We have to rest."

Morn just stared at the wretch. Which seemed to fluster him even more.

"Look, your the only one with enough stamina to keep going. I'm sure we're all sorry for not being a bloodless killing machine but here's a fun fact, normal people need rest and we'll do it with and without you."

Morn smirked, and deigned to graced Xavier with a reply.

"Fine. I'll scout out the way ahead and see where this swamp ends."

Xavier seemed taken aback by Morn's sudden relent.

"Yes. Yes okay, If your not back within a half hour then we'll send out a search party."

Morn nodded, then turned and walked off through the swamp, seeming to float across the muddy ground.

Alone, Morn could finally pick up the. Putting on a burst of speed, he jumped forwards, being careful to land on the lighter shades of mud, the driest parts of the swamp.

The trees slowly thinned, much to Morn's surprise. He had not expected the swamp to end so soon.

Then the ground became dry, mud became grass, mangroves became oaks and elms.

And Morn realized something was wrong.

The change was to sudden. Swamps never ended to abruptly. The ground was wet for miles around them.

Then he heard a roaring, a pounding that made the ground shake beneath his feet.

Was that a waterfall?

Morn did not slow his pace, bounding across the now grassy fields.

A massive rock wall loomed up, cutting through the surrounding woods.

It was anything but natural.

Morn dashed past it, spotting the waterfall he knew was there around the corner. The size sheer size of the fall was enough to stop Morn in his tracks. It roared over the cliff, far, far above where Morn stood, crashing to earth with such force that it jarred everything around it.

Morn slowly walked forwards, nearing the pool the waterfall fell into. Only one thought struck him as he peered into it.

None of this was real.

Morn stepped right into the pool, feeling the icy water's touch through his armor. He let himself sink to the bottom of the pool. There, he found what he expected, a hole in the bottom of the pool. Morn pushed himself towards it, then let the current do the rest as it sucked him in.

For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. Then, Morn saw through the rushing current a hallway, leading off into empty space.

Morn knew where he was now.

Another hallway flashed by, leading to the same place as the last. Then another, and another.

Then Morn was flushed out, hitting the ground and rolling forwards, he unsheathed his blade in one smooth motion, his body flowing seamlessly into a stance.

Yet there was nothing. Only darkness ahead of him.

Slowly, he moved forwards, expecting an attack at any moment, remembering the last time he had been here.

That thought lead to another, an Morn slowly lowered his blade.

Something far worse was at hand.

Morn hurried forwards, ignoring the wisps of darkness that clung to him like spider webs. Slowly, the ceiling receded, and disappeared entirely. Morn stopped, and looked up, knowing what would be there yet hoping it would not be.

A figure floated there, suspended on either side by strands of black. Morn's breath caught in his throat.

Then the figure stirred, the webs of darkness slowly falling away.

And it turned to Morn, a white smile carved into it's face.

All at once, the ground shuddered beneath his feet. Then the sensation of moving upwards made him stumble.

Morn knew what it was that had moved. He knew what it's purpose was.

He had survived it once, but the Devil's Diamond was always guarded.

And this was the reason they called it the Devil's Diamond.