Time passed, yet Jean remained frozen, unmoving. How long would it be before her soul burned out of her body? But despite her wait, nothing happened.
Sensing something unusual with her, Solane asked, “What’s wrong?”
Jean snapped. “You spoke the title of a god! That’s forbidden knowledge—I shouldn’t know it!”
Solane frowned.
I shouted. Jean lowered her head regretfully. “Sorry.”
Sighing, Solane replied, “I understand your concern. But the Flesh Ancestor has long been... dead, and so speaking her name does nothing.”
So knowledge of dead gods can be known? Jean was intrigued by this revelation. “What other gods died during that time?”
Taking a sip of tea, Solane glanced at the flowers, now covered in a thin layer of fallen red dust. “I don’t know all their names, but one thing is certain—many perished. Perhaps because of that, those who remained withdrew, choosing not to descend to the human world.” She continued, “On the other hand, many new gods also emerged during that era.”
“Who?” Jean asked.
Solane smiled. “Most of them are still around.”
“Oh.” Jean quieted herself, then added, “Right, back to the Third Millennium.”
Solane nodded. “Back to the Third Millennium then,” she said. “At that time, the Empire—or whatever form it took then—still existed, but eventually, the Mad King rose and declared war on the Southern Dominion. He commanded an army of metal soldiers, a powerful wolf, and a figure who wore an iron crown… He’s often linked with laws and distortion.”
Black!
“There was also the ruler of the vampires, the Blood Moon Queen,” Solane continued.
So the Blood Moon Queen is gone too, Jean noted based on Solane's revelation.
“In any case, with this assembly of gods, vampires, and wolves, he attacked the domination,” Solane explained. “But he was defeated, although many other gods were killed in the chaos. It’s said that the Nightmare Plains became so horrific because a god died there.”
A god died in the Nightmare Plains? Jean knew that Donnersburg could only be reached by crossing the Nightmare Plains. Supposedly, there were treasures scattered across that desolate land, from world-altering artifacts to scrolls of ancient knowledge that could reveal secrets of the past. But due to the horrors dwelling in its dark regions—and the dreams that turned strange there—not many dared to explore it, save for the legions stationed in conflict against the city of storms. Though some safe passages existed, they were under the City’s control, thus not easily accessible to the empire.
Jean didn’t know much, but she was aware enough to follow the events in the East. Occasionally, she wondered why the Tau hadn’t seized the chance to attack the City for the Well of Grace… Maybe something held them back?
She shrugged off the thought, focusing on Solane’s story.
“The vampires disappeared—or perhaps went into hiding in the Red Coral Forest—after the death of their queen,” Solane went on. “The demonic wolves were entirely exterminated, the God of the Fairies died, and the Eastern Dominion vanished around that time as well.”
“And Black?” Jean asked. Though she enjoyed the tale, her primary interest lay with this being.
Solane’s smile deepened. “Black disappeared around the war’s end.”
“So he wasn’t killed?” Jean had already knew, but she wanted confirmation.
Solane nodded, adding, “There’s speculation that a faction arose after his disappearance. Perhaps to bring him back.”
Jean frowned. What faction could that be?
The sheer number of factions sometimes annoyed her—many had origins that were ancient and obscure.
----------------------------------------
Vin entered the interrogation room.
The room was a dark space, faintly illuminated by eternal lamps burning high on the stone walls. Most were positioned well above her head, casting a dim glow over the room. In the center of the chamber, a figure knelt.
It was a battered young man with thick, vine-like dark hair cascading down his back like tangled whips. His brown jacket hung open, exposing a well-toned torso—now bruised and bloodied from relentless beatings. The man’s head was bowed, blood trickling down his face and seeping from his lips.
He was silent; even after the beating, he neither panted nor cried out. The resilience of the Maw people was unnatural.
Vin crossed her legs and sat. There was nothing beneath her—just the empty air and the stone floor.
Distortion really does have many uses.
She observed him quietly. How much more can he endure? she thought, grimacing.
Time passed in silence until she finally asked, "What are the Maw planning?"
Nothing. The man didn’t respond.
With a sigh, Vin uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, her hands clasped. The jewels and metal on her soundhand clicked together, creating a resounding chime that broke the silence. They weren’t ideal for a quiet space, but she wouldn’t take them off—they were her mark as a Knight City citizen.
"Why were you carrying a soul bomb?" she asked.
More silence. He refused to speak.
Vin remained undeterred. "You know, I don’t actually have authorization to question you, given that you aren’t an external threat aiming to destabilize the Empire. But I’m probably the nicest interrogator you’ll get. So wouldn’t it be better to talk to me than to have it forced out of you by an Invigilator?"
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The man shuddered slightly, dots grew up appearing on his skin. Clearly, the mention of the Invigilator had struck a nerve. But why? As far as Vin knew, he hadn’t yet encountered one. His injuries had come from the guards, who likely vented their frustrations on him.
Vin waved her soundhand. "Don’t you want to explain yourself? Perhaps, by some miracle, you’ll get to walk out of here instead of being dragged and tried in the law Room in chains or… in a coffin."
The man slowly raised his bloodied face, his deep black eyes glinting like those of a cornered animal, ready to fight with every last ounce of strength. He looked menacing, but Vin remained unfazed.
"Why would I talk to an Emperian filth?" he spat.
This again. Vin resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Many among the Maw still harbored animosity toward the Empire, frequently organizing riots or protests over the Empire’s rule. This could be felt from the usual terrorist attacks, like the one at the train station the week before. Vin found their resentment a bit ungrateful. Yes, the Empire had absorbed their clan, but unlike empires such as the Tau, they hadn’t been enslaved. They were given resources and the freedom to continue their pagan worship of the storm. And yet, they still revolted.
Vin sighed. "If you don’t want to talk to me, then perhaps you’d prefer a visit from an Invigilator with his ringing voice."
The man was silent for a moment, but then he twisted into a deranged smile. "Ha, you filth and your heretic powers!"
Really? What’s the difference? If our powers are heretical, then what are yours? Don’t you follow the same means of evolution? Vin held back her frustration at the absurdity of some Maw beliefs. Still, she kept her tone calm. "I suppose we are heretics—to you, at least—but you still haven’t answered my question."
The man’s smile widened. "To free God!"
"To free God?" Vin raised an eyebrow. "When was God ever imprisoned? There are eleven gods, and last I checked, none of them seemed particularly restrained."
The man scowled. "Those pretenders? True God came before them and is the greatest."
"Sound logic, I suppose," Vin replied dryly.
"Those beings you call gods are mere pretenders. There is only one God, and She fights for us. For her sake, we must bring her back to this world."
Vin frowned. "She? Isn’t the storm a male deity? You know, because of its violent nature."
The Maw shook his head with a bitter chuckle. "Uh, Such ignorance! When did I ever say I was speaking of the storm?"
Now that’s interesting. Vin realized her time was short. The Invigilator would be arriving any moment, so she needed to extract as much information as possible before that happened.
"So, what?" she scoffed. "You no longer worship the storm? Doesn’t that make you the heretic?"
The man roared, blood dripping from his mouth. "Of course not!" He stared down at the stone floor. "Our ancestors erred, worshipping something they didn’t truly understand. We believe in the storm, yes—but not as some male force. No! The storm is female."
"And Olmer?" Vin asked, tilting her head. "Is he also among these believers?"
The man looked up, his eyes locking onto hers with an intense fury, as though she had just uttered the most offensive thing imaginable.
"Olmer?" he hissed. "Olmer? That heretic! How dare you mention his name to me?"
"Just making conversation." Vin stretched her sleeve-covered arm, causing the white kefna fabric to wrinkle slightly. "Why would a shaman of the storm even be considered a heretic? What, did he choose to continue worshipping the male version?"
The man snarled. "How dare you?"
He really should tone it down, Vin thought.
"Olmer is no shaman," he said. "He doesn’t worship the storm—neither the male nor the true female form. The words you speak are nonsense!"
"Then what does that heretic worship if not the so-called true storm?"
"How should I know?" The man scoffed. "Shouldn’t you filth do something useful for once and kill that heretic?"
Vin smiled. "That's what we intend to do. But you still haven't explained why you were carrying soul bombs."
The man clamped his mouth shut, refusing to speak further.
"See," Vin leaned forward, as if seated on an invisible chair. "I understand trying to unseal your ‘Storm,’ but how do soul bombs help with that? Or is it the souls themselves you need? Either way, shouldn’t you be a bit more forthcoming with me? You were so eager to speak about Olmer—why not about this?"
Silence.
After a few moments, she shrugged. "I suppose, in the end, only one method remains."
The man looked directly into her eyes. "What method?"
Before he could finish, Vin flicked her hand, and the man was thrown backward, slamming against the wall with a resounding crack! She even heard the faint snapping of bones. Must be painful.
He winced but remained silent, impressively resilient.
She waved again, and the man was tossed up, slamming into the ceiling, then the right wall, left wall, the ceiling again, the floor, the back wall, and once more upward... over and over.
This continued for what felt like an unreasonably long time—long enough that even Vin was surprised. Any moment now, the Invigilator would arrive. She had used most of her favors to gather information on Olmer’s disappearance. While those who provided the information were indifferent to the case of one missing Maw individual, after recent events, Vin couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant was unfolding in the city—something hidden yet visible. Hidden in plain sight.
But whatever it was, she intended to uncover it. One of these days, I’ll focus on my actual duties and stop chasing everyone else’s mysteries. She mused, finally slamming the man onto the now blood-stained floor. It looked like a bucket of reddened water had be poured over the ground.
Surveying the amount of blood splattered across the black stone walls and floor, she was struck by the unyielding defiance that still flickered in the Maw man’s eyes. Truly tenacious.
"Won’t you just talk and end this?" Vin asked.
The man remained silent.
Just then, the door behind Vin creaked opened, revealing a dark-skinned, white-haired man—a rarity among the Canense, likely a Maw. The irony wasn’t lost on her. The Invigilator was dressed in a distinctive kefna: a long white coat that draped down, white trousers, and a silver monocle on his right eye.
The Invigilator glanced at Vin, who immediately sprang to her feet and bowed. "Sir Invigilator!"
He regarded her calmly. "Once again, you involve yourself in matters outside your responsibilities."
Vin flushed. "I have hunches."
"A good intuition, no doubt," he acknowledged, then turned his gaze to the battered Maw man. "Has he spoken anything of relevance?"
"No," she lied. In truth, the man had revealed enough to be worth investigating, but Olmer was her personal project, and she didn’t want the Invigilators taking over. After all, the Maw man was captured merely for possessing a soul bomb, unrelated to Olmer.
The Invigilator nodded and opened a box he had brought. Inside was a transparent bottle—a potion, no doubt.
"He’ll be compelled to talk now," the Invigilator said, extracting the bottle as he approached the Maw man.
Perhaps noticing the bottle, the Maw man’s expression twisted in horror as he began to back away, scrambling. "Stay away! Don’t come near me—stop, stop, stop!" he cried. "Stay back, heretic!"
The Invigilator remained unfazed, steadily closing the distance and uncapping the bottle. "Me? A heretic? And what does that make you?"
The Maw man kept backing up until his back hit the wall. His eyes widened with terror. "You—you’re a Maw? Then why are you doing this? Stop!"
The Invigilator paused briefly, then said, "My origins don’t prevent me from purifying heretics!"
With that, the Maw man’s resolve shattered, and Vin could see it. The fury that had burned in his eyes transformed into something primal. Something was wrong.
The man gritted his teeth and let out a hoarse laugh. "Peace be upon the world... For the Goddess so loved the world that she gave herself to protect it."
What in the black is he saying?
Before Vin could respond, a blinding white light burst forth from the Invigilator, enveloping her as if a shield of light had formed around her. Startled, she nearly distorted it, when a high-pitched ringing invaded her ears.
The Maw man said something, but she couldn’t hear him over the ringing. Moments later, he was hoisted into the air, white light pouring from his mouth and eyes!
He screamed!