Adna snuck through the dense forest of the Dimetrium estate. Tuna, the scout, lead the team with a surprising deftness—no doubt using her citrine aura with each step to cancel any sound. Davian crept beside her and Morto brought up the rear.
As planned, once they reached the guard post, Tuna surveyed the area and signaled that there were two people.
One inside, one out front. She used an intuitive combination of the deaf language and basic military signs. Anticipating her cue, the ruby aurors sprang into action.
Morto sprinted up to the guard, kicking the back of the man’s leg and buckling it. He fell to his knees but before he could cry out, Morto stood on his leg, took his head and pulled. The three sharp cracks of his spine separating echoed off the trees. The man’s neck, now a few inches longer, lolled as he slumped into the brush.
Adna gasped. Beside her, Tuna watched with unflinching, murderous eyes. This was, she had to assume, nowhere near the savagery that her gem-eating friends were capable of. Perhaps she should simply be grateful that the death was clean. Adna was not squeamish with gore—yet another inexplicable trait inherited from the original Adna—but the scene had been… enlightening. The air of ease in his strength sent a primal fear skittering down her spine.
Davian, too, was not phased. She watched as his black silhouette caught the man exiting the building by the neck, crushing his windpipe in hand. He then curled the guard to himself in a mortal embrace. The auror’s fist impacted the guard’s chest half a dozen times before Davian set the corpse down carefully. Invisible in the darkness, the glass dagger returned to his forearm sheath.
There was nothing customary to say after your lover extinguished a life in front of you. This was the second time in two days she’d watched Davian kill someone. If this was to be a common occurrence, she’d need to produce a response.
Adna simply gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up which he returned and Tuna gave the signal to proceed.
Ping!
Would you like to reap the spectral energy of ‘Plimt’?
-Yes/No
The “windows” Timbrelle described were beginning to pop up for Adna as well. What had started flickering and transparent had gradually turned stable as Timbrelle went through the “loosening” process. Though Adna couldn’t interact with them herself, it allowed her to see what the interface showed Timbrelle. It was proof enough that she was still breathing.
Ping!
Congratulations! Your variation of The Moribund Seal has reached 167% charge. A new tab has been added to your interface.
Adna caught a branch directly in the forehead while reading the box. A faint snort from Davian’s direction let her know the accident had not gone unwitnessed.
The rest of the forest was uneventful. They scared off a pack of raccoons and a large gwirt before they reached the edge of the Dimetrium gardens.
In a blur of features, Tuna adopted the appearance of the guard Davian killed at the shack. She walked across the grounds with a purposeful gate.
“Patrick? What are you doing? Captain Carz will be furious!” Another guard called from his position at the side entrance.
Tuna said nothing, only bringing up a furry paw with long serrated claws and raking him across the chest. He inhaled deeply and Tuna drove the claws between his ribs before he could use the breath to scream. The man slumped into the bushes.
According to plan, Davian slipped through the door and soon he was dragging another guard out into the perennials. Morto and Adna sprinted from their cover and into the mansion.
“This hallway is storage. I didn’t see anyone else wandering around.” Davian whispered. “There’s a dumb waiter system in place, as we hoped. Looks like the kitchens are a level below us in the basement.”
Tuna nodded, understanding her job.
“Davian, Morto see if you can get the front doors open. The rest of the assault force will be waiting for that. Remember, don’t take action until my signal.” She instructed. “Keep things as contained as possible. I need to find her before they can start the raid. If things go south, just trust me to get her out.
“Let’s get started.” She ushered the men through the door and helped Tuna fold her clothes after she changed to a shiba. Adna harbored a soft spot for the spherical flying creatures. It was hard not to, what with their ridged noses and curly wool. Tuna landed on Adna’s shoulder and wrapped the ribbon tails around her torso, squeezing lightly. The shiba fluttered once around the room, grabbed her clothes in a long tail and shot up the dumb waiter. Her leathery wings could only be heard faintly as she ascended to the top floor.
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Adna took a firm breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. She continued this exercise until she could hold back the vomit no longer. The contents of her stomach came raging forth as it turned inside-out.
At the end, she silently wiped her mouth with the hem of her cloak.The nausea caused by the decaying Soul Communion seemed to calm after voiding herself.
“Ew. Gross.”
Adna whirled to find a familiar ginger man standing in the doorway.
“Brandon? What are you… are the Unmade in on this?”
His freckled face broke into a wide smile. “Nope. I’m here to help. Even stopped by the temple but they said you already left. I’m a little surprised you knew where she was being held.”
“Jir has a mark on her soul that lets him monitor her death. We know she’s nearby, I can only assume she’s in the dungeons.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder when she moved to take the lead. “Let me scout. You and Timbrelle are the only ones who can see through my bonded item.”
She nodded and followed him through the building to the basement. There stood a large steel door with an equally intimidating padlock hanging, unlocked, on the wall beside it. Someone had obviously unfastened it to venture in but was yet to return.
“Can you feel her?” Davian asked. “Is she down here?”
Adna shook her head solemnly. “I don’t know anymore. The Soul Communion is hanging on by a thread; I can’t feel much of anything.”
He nodded his understanding. “Then let’s not waste time. I’ll head down first.”
The metallic stench of blood hung heavy in the air, though the pervasive mildew could not be hidden. A spiral staircase emptied into a dimly lit corridor of identical iron doors. Brandon sniffed the air like a hound and led them to one. He tested the locked knob before tearing it off slowly, screeching and creaking in the silence. His look said to be ready, but when he pried open the door, nothing happened. The chamber reeked of blood, causing Adna’s empty stomach to clench. She retched quietly as Brandon carefully stepped in.
Their shoes stuck to the floor. The shupp, shupp, shupp, of their steps narrated the otherwise silent survey.
Adna’s heart thudded to a stop.
There, in a room painted in gore, covered in weapons, sat a single disembodied eye. Featureless. Graying. It was one Adna recognized. Despite Timbrelle’s soul projection making people perceive her normal dark brown eyes, Adna had been able to see through it. These white eyes had been nervously watching her like a hawk since Adna woke up in the Preservatory. They’d watched the Tryptus together.
This couldn’t be real.
“Oh my God.” She breathed.
“Adna.” Brandon’s voice was cold as steel. “Come look at this.”
Adna grabbed the eye in a tremorous hand and dropped it in the pouch of aurora gems. When she arrived in the darkened corner of the room where Brandon was crouching, her face fell to a grimace.
There, legs pinned beneath a contraption resembling a metal sarcophagus, sat a hefty, bald man. His features were swollen and slack with death. While his broken and missing teeth were grisly, far more notable was the array of knives sticking from his chest. A quick count placed the number at nine.
“I need you to tell me honestly: do you believe this is something Timbrelle is capable of?” His voice and expression were inscrutable.
She took a second to appraise the body. “No. I don’t think she could do this.”
“Well… she did. His bio lists her as his murderer.” He ran his hands through the vivid mess of hair he sported. “She consumed his soul, Adna. This isn’t even classified as a corpse by the interface; This is a ‘husk’.”
“My Timbrelle—?“ she pointed at the body with eyebrows raised.
He nodded. “This is bad. When you’re unmade, your soul is cast into shape. Going too far against your pre-established morals will fracture that mold and drive you insane.”
“That sounds like something we should have been told sooner, Brandon.” She snarled.
“Her mentor… was supposed to…” He offered weakly.
“What mentor? I don’t see anyone who claims to be one!” She demanded, a hint of her own insanity in her tone. “Shut up and find her. You can apologize to her if she lives, but God help you if she dies.”
Brandon nodded, visibly building his nerve.
They didn’t speak again until the door leading down to the dungeon was locked behind them.
“Scout ahead.”
The Unmade man did as ordered and slipped into the hallway. He led them past a group of maids hauling laundry and back up to the main floor. The staff wasn’t moving with an urgency to suggest they knew of the ongoing infiltration.
It wasn’t until a unit of armed guards came jogging past that Brandon and Adna shared a look. Nothing needed to be said.
Adna burst from the alcove, catching the final guard by the face. His legs flew out from beneath him and Adna drove the back of his skull down into the marble floor.
A flash of silver opened the man’s neck beneath Adna’s hand. Another guard received the same dirk to the eye when the noise made him turn to look.
She was preparing to tackle the third of four guards when Brandon punched a fist directly out the front of his chest. Adna couldn’t help but flinch at the spritz of viscera that covered her face. Both she and the poor man looked at the hand in horror before Brandon kicked him off. The last man charged him only to have his blade ricochet off Brandon’s neck, ringing like it had encountered stone.
“That never gets old.” He noted, pleasantly.
The final guard took a hand-chop to the nape of his neck that left his corpse’s head cocked back at a ninety degree angle.
“No! You big dummy. We should have asked him where they were headed first.” She whispered.
As if in answer to their question, the mansion begun to rumble.
Ping!
You have activated your Hidden Ability.
*your Hidden Ability has nearly reached maturity. After doing so, it will become your Fate Ability.
Low rumbling turned to a palpable shudder that permeated the very foundations of the mansion.
Brandon cocked his head to the side, as if listening for something. “Third floor. East end. That’s two floors directly above us. I don’t know where the stairs—what are you doing?”
Adna slid her hand into a boot she’d stolen off a body. She wound up and smashed out the window, sending purple stained glass exploding into the garden. The boot thunked to the floor and Adna hopped out.
Two stories above them, a large atrium was filling with light—one so bright that the night sky was rapidly illuminating a hazy lavender. The outer walls were a sheer, unclimbable face. This did not faze Adna. It would simply require a little more flare.
She bounced her knees, eyes locked on the windows of the atrium. “Throw me.”