Doe

1.4

👁️

Persa wondered if this was what the dead felt under her Glimmer.

A brief moment of existence as the mind rushes to fill in the gaps of when and where the body was, remembering that skin prickles at the touch of cold air, feeling her own strands of hair on her neck, about to exhale a breath-

Nonexistence.

And then the surroundings change. No transition from one to another ala day and night, not even to notice their leaving of the mortal coil and back. Her breath was still leaving her mouth in a rushed exhalation and then-

Nothingness.

More changes in scenery. More and more, on and on, there was only her mind witnessing portraits of the coastal colony before they were swiftly replaced. It was as though a demented artist was torturing her mind by swapping paintings rapidly before her eyes.

And then it stopped.

Persa did not actually realize they had finished the journey until her third breath had left her, and her mind crashed into her consciousness like a wave slamming onto a ship. Not enough to tip the vessel, but more than enough to rock its passengers.

The passengers, in this case, being her sensibilities.

"Oooh," she murmured, knees shaking. There had not even been a real sensation of time passing. Only a blur. This had not been the first time she'd experienced Sabra's Blessing; they had done practice drills to understand each other's gifts for the job, after all.

Yet never for so long. At most, she had experienced mild dizziness and jittery footing. Now she felt like all the blood was rushing back into her body, with only Sabra's muscled form keeping her steady.

She was holding on with all her might, not wanting to fall to her knees here at… wherever they were.

Where are we?

The farm, her thought caught up to her. Or somewhere close by.

Sabra deposited Milian and the boy did not bother to fight gravity as it claimed him. He lay on his back, soft giggles coming from him.

"Hush," Sabra whispered softly.

The giggling became muffled, but did not stop.

"Are you well?" Sabra asked, more gently to Persa. "Can you stand?"

Slowly, carefully, Persa relinquished her steel hold on the larger woman. In any other circumstance, she would have been mortified into silence.

In this instance, it was a flare of anger that made her hiss, "Warn me."

"I asked and you responded with affirmation."

No I did not, but instead whispered, "Then slow down next time! I need to prepare!"

Sabra's mask tilted, "Is that an order?"

"Yes!"

She stared at Persa for a moment before nodding, "As you say. My apologies then, Oidan."

Don't apologize. Or else I'll forgive you quickly.

Too late of course. With the dying heat of anger came a warmth of mortification at speaking to Sabra so testily.

Not wanting to let it show, Persa looked around. They were atop a roof of some sort overlooking flatland, with tall forest trees out in the far distance, with a large manse between that forest and whatever building they were stationed on.

So this was where the supposed heretical cabal was situated. For a moment Persa was worried that Sabra had just transported them atop a bunch of angry citizens, but dismissed the thought easily enough.

With her Glimmer, Sabra could handle the movements without any issue and be aware of any sounds of danger before it happened, so long as she was focusing on the area. If there was the sound of pitchforks, torches, and rabble rousing, then she would have cleared out the barn herself before bringing Persa and Milian.

Well. Maybe not.

It was slightly possible that she might test Persa in some way and have her do the work. Not likely, since this was meant to be a more sedate first mission, but not enough to entirely dismiss it.

Persa contented herself with the fact that in the slim chance that there was any danger, then the lack of light would be to their benefit. The Heavenly Eye was nearly closed by now, its alabaster lids covering all but a crescent of red and orange, and the land past that sliver of light was stark in how much it contrasted with the deepening shadows.

Even with her Blessing effectively giving her the same quality of vision as if it were day, adjusting for growing darkness, she still felt a shiver.

A gorgon attack was rare but not impossible.

"The packets said that they mostly work with cows and horses," Milian said, voice a bit shaky. "The barn is certainly large enough for hundreds of people."

"Quite," Sabra agreed. "Allow me a moment. I will be inspecting the surroundings. You two remain low until I return. Should be a brief few moments."

She looked at Persa for permission. Persa reluctantly gave it, feeling none of that impulsive confidence from before.

Sabra turned away and was gone in a moment.

Persa knelt down beside Milian, the boy now slightly taller than her. "I was thinking about gorgon attacks."

"Scary," he whispered back. His voice was mostly back to normal. "The last gorgon attack here was nearly a century ago. Not in the town proper, but it resided within a cave several dozen miles to the west. Feasted on the local red-bear and long-nosed lynx population, along with several hunting parties who found the cave."

"What did it do?"

"Toxins of some sort. Records are vague on that front, Oidan, only that people became violently ill and there were many deaths because of it. They poured oil into the cave, set it alight, and then sealed it within."

"None have ventured in? To retrieve the orbs?"

Milina shook his head, "Better to not test their luck, in case there was a nest. It was allowed by the Temple when the ambassador at the time regaled the tale."

Persa nodded. A bit surprising, considering the vast treasure the gorgon orbs could be to the Empress, but it seemed her grace and kindness allowed for this to pass in favor of keeping the citizens safe.

It did a lot to calm her nerves that the Gorgon was likely dead or forever sealed within its tomb.

Sabra returned shortly after in a puff of rings, "The area is secure. Not a soul to be seen, nor a peep."

"That is good at least," Persa said as she dusted herself off.

"I wonder. Come, let us investigate the barn first."

Another dizzying trip down to the ground, and Persa did her own scan of the area. Nothing, save for a bat or bird that flew by, her Glimmer not even forming enough before it was out of sight.

Sabra kept her hold on Milian and on Persa's shoulder - much to her mixed feelings - and looked through a gap in the barn door. In less than a breath, the trio were inside the dark building.

It was empty, to her surprise. Persa had expected sleeping horses or cows, but on second thought she supposed those belonged to stables. Which she felt pretty sure was a separate thing from a barn?

She was about to ask Milian, before Sabra walked further into the barn and Milian followed.

Ah, well. Best to move on then.

It had two floors to it, and an incredible abundance of hay. Practically small hills of the material piled up in near workbenches and more in compact rolls atop one another. She was grateful for the mask, as she could imagine having a sneezing fit if she kicked up too much of the straw.

The trio searched through the barn cautiously and methodically, Sabra Glaring onto the upper levels for a time before coming back down again after a few moments, shaking her head.

Well, this is delightfully dull.

All the talk of heretics and the messy business on board the ship had made her worried that this would be an intense trial by fire. Instead, it felt like one of the training camps back home, where she and her fellow compatriots were tasked with investigating set up rooms and locations to test their Glimmers.

Hers was positively useless without any living creatures in sight. Not even a single mouse popped out to give her a fright.

Persa was not an expert with farms or field work, but to her, this seemed to be nothing extraordinary. Bundles of hay, pitchforks, scythes, brooms, the faint smell of animal life that had her scrunching her nose in distaste…

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Aisan?" Persa asked. "Am I missing a clue?"

Sabra for her part was examining banisters and wooden pillars, "How do you mean?"

"It appears… unassuming," Persa whispered. "As one would expect a barm to look? I am not seeing any signs of heresy or even temple practices. No chalices, no monocles, no iconography…"

Milian piped up, "It's actually quite quaint. The papers said that the Goanic's were well-to-do but this barn seems quite small for their status."

"How big of a status?"

"Compared to the governor, Director Allam, and Sir Nothar, they wouldn't be sitting at the table, but they could be invited at the table and fit in quite well. They could possibly afford two barns of this size if they wanted."

"Did they have any Blessed in their ancestry? Distant family?"

"Maybe. There's some debate if their records going back two hundred years are accurate, but if true, they did have a Blessed who could raise trees."

"Oh, how pleasant!" And it might explain if they carried that wealth down the family line as well, without being as connected as the governor and his compatriots were.

"Too much hay," Sabra said, interrupting them.

Milian looked confused, "For a barn?"

"For a place of worship," Sabra said, a might bit defensive. "Too much chance for a fire from a torch or candle. Poor ventilation in this building means the smell of animals and pressed bodies would be uncomfortable. And look at the pillars."

They did, looking over the wood. Nothing unusual stuck out to Persa.

"Nothing to hold torches or candles either. Even if removed, there would be signs of nails and screws, damaged wood. Nothing."

"Could it be day based worship?" Persa thought aloud. "Wanting to be seen under the open eye of heaven?"

It wasn't uncommon. Although most places of worship had their main hours of holiness during the dark of night to represent bastions of heavenly light against the Depths, some smaller congregations preferred to practice in the safety of the day.

Gorgon attacks were rare but never impossible, she thought again. Though a group of four hundred souls is far from small scale.

"Possible, but not likely. Look at the floorboards."

Persa and Milian did. A bit harder to see, even with their enhanced sight, but the bits of hay and dirt didn't seem out of place. She gave Milian a questioning look, before remembering that her grinning skull mask was not especially helpful for that task.

Still, even the boy looked confused as to what he should be finding.

"What should I see?" Persa decided to ask.

"The floors are relatively unmarred. A few scrapes from bovine hooves, maybe some boots, but if there were truly hundreds of people congregating here every day or night, then there would be significantly more signs pointing in that direction."

Persa blinked. How would anyone think to notice that?

"So no one used this as a temple at all?" Milian asked. "They were wrong?"

"Maybe. Could potentially be the case that they used the barn early on, with fewer people, and moved elsewhere to accommodate. It's unlikely, but it could also be that they rebuilt significant parts of the barn to hide all signs of worship. Or we were lied to."

Persa looked at Sabra sharply.

"It's a possibility."

"I did not get any indication of falsehood," Persa said, worried.

"Neither did I. Not exactly. But they could be exceptionally good liars."

Persa thought back to her temple training. Yes, they had covered corrupt officials before, but they were specifically instructed to not assume deception against the Empress immediately.

Sometimes an ignorant mistake looked malicious, even under the eye of heaven itself.

Sabra had good instincts, and a keen mind, but she had also been upset with the governor ever since the parade. Possibly even earlier, when they got the report that the city had allowed potential heretics within its walls in the first place.

"We shall keep it in mind," Persa allowed. "But discipline dictates we treat it as a last resort option."

"I'm aware," Sabra said… almost a touch amused?

"Yes, well…" Persa floundered for a bit. "I suppose we can rule out this barn then? The Goanic family cleared?"

"What about the house?" Milian asked.

Persa blinked. "What about it?"

"What if they worshiped within the house? It's almost as big as our Inn, four hundred people feels doable."

"A good suggestion, and one I was about to make," Sabra said. Milian beamed at the praise.

Persa was a bit embarrassed to say that she did not even consider investigating beyond the barn itself. That was the information given, and that was the plan to stick to… but there was no reason to not investigate the house.

And if Sabra wanted to do it, it probably was indeed a good idea.

Persa nodded and the three of them made the dizzying journey in moments. Persa rested on the wooden railing leading up to the house for a moment, while Milian clung to Sabra's pant leg tightly.

After a moment, Persa recovered and made her way up the steps, Sabra following, unbothered by the fact that she had to lift up Milian with each stair step.

Persa was about to knock but Sabra stopped her, lightly shook Milian off her leg and away from the door frame, and put Persa behind her.

Her fist against the heavy door sounded like gunshots.

"Farmer Goanic?!" Persa called out, behind Sabra. "We are the Honored Masked of the Empress! We have some questions for you and your family!"

Silence.

More loud knocks by Sabra.

"Farmer Goanic! We are here in peace and would request your assistance!"

The house responded with more silence. It did not seem to care for the Empress's cause.

"I might need to break a window to get in," Sabra said, reaching for her revolver.

"Allow me!" Milian said, reaching into his belt and pulling out two steel pins. He dutifully shuffled to the keyhole and began fidgeting with his tools.

Oh this is just adorable, Persa thought with no small amount of glee. He looked so serious!

"Has our Chronic taken on a life of crime," she said, crouching down and speaking jovially. She didn't bother to whisper or keep her amusement out of her voice.

Milian didn't seem to notice, "I have studied all manners of arts to make myself useful! Including knife fighting and pistol use, Honored Oidan."

"Waste of time," Sabra said. "You're a Chronic. Violence won't touch you."

Persa could see the poor boy falter for a moment, but quickly get back into the swing of things, working twice as fast and hard.

A click echoed through the air.

"But you did well in this," Sabra said approvingly. She - almost gently - pushed him aside to Persa and opened the door. Persa helped him put his pins back in place, and the two of them followed her in.

The barn may not have been impressive to Milian, but Persa found the interior of the Goanic family home to be quite well to do! The entrance opened up to an open space chamber with an impressive master stair-case that one could take to the second-floor balconies on either side, and Persa imagined that there were stairs in those wings that led to the upper floors as well.

"Stick with me," Sabra said tensely. "We are starting with the master bedroom and working from there. I spotted a cellar during my scouting, so that will be our final search. What do you know of this building, Chronic?"

"Not much, Honored Aisan," Milian admitted. "None of the packets contained blue-prints for any buildings, and we did not require them to fill out any forms for permission to build it. Um, I do know that it currently houses three generations of the Goanic family. Fourteen in total."

Large family, Persa thought, with some wistful envy.

"It feels wrong to be trespassing," Persa admitted.

"Agents of the Empress cannot trespass. That implies there are limits to her grace. Her will persists regardless of the barrier."

Oh. Oh that did make her feel better!

She gave Sabra a grateful nod and the three of them set up toward the stairs, Milian explaining more details about the family that Persa did not care to remember.

Sabra would likely point out anything that stood out to her and if Persa had any questions, she'd just ask Milian anyways. She figured it was mostly Milian talking out his own nervousness.

Making their way up the stairs, Persa admired some of the art pieces. Statues depicting some Honored Masked from history decorated the banisters: Hora the Great and Small, Velve of the Tender Claws, and even an obscure figure like Tykzon of the People. That one wasn't even well known by her compatriots in training!

There were paintings of the Empress driving out the Gorgons from ruins and reclaiming cities, alongside her sisters, and a particularly questionable piece depicting the lower half of a snarling gorgon woman's jaws, everything from the eyes up shrouded in black paint.

That would get you some scared mutterings if flaunted anywhere else.

Something was missing from all these art collections though. It took Persa a moment before it connected.

"What does this family look like?"

Sabra and Milian paused, looking at her and then each other.

In unison, they turned to the walls, looking more closely.

"Portraits are gone," Persa whispered. "You can see the faint outline in the wood."

"Not too long ago," Sabra muttered. "I would not be surprised if they were depicting the family in some form. They didn't want us to know what they looked like. And they were expecting our visit."

"Could it be that the Look-Outs and militia investigation scared them?" Milian asked. "If they felt that the local government was unjustly targeting them, they might want to change locations."

Sabra shook her head, "It's a large house and farm. A lot of money goes into these areas and they have expectations for work. And presumably the Goanics are well known in the community,if your point on their standing is correct. Hiding the portraits wouldn't make sense unless they wanted us to not know what they looked like."

Heretics, Persa thought. It wasn't confirmed, but it felt close to being realized.

Sabra had turned away, looking at the closed blind on the large windows. She opened them slightly, peeking out for a moment, before turning her attention back to the drape of cloth itself.

"What's wrong?" Persa asked.

"Every window blind is closed. At least the ones we've seen so far. It made sense for the downstairs windows, but the second floor? Or the third?"

"I would say they have an extreme desire for privacy, but I must admit this feels much like the Goanics did not want us to use Glimmers or Glares to get in."

Sabra nodded, leaving the blinds alone. "Basic protection methods. Not too unusual for those who study Blessings and the Empress. I'm not yet sold on heresy, but it's a good clue."

"What would convince you?" Persa asked, honestly curious.

The larger woman shrugged, "I shall know it when we see it. Come. The chambers await us."

It didn't take long for them to find the master-bedroom chambers. It was large, with fine silk sheets and lavishly large pillows that had been untouched for some time.

To the normal eye, especially in this lighting, it would be nearly impossible to see the small layer of dust that had coated part of the fabrics.

"Portraits removed as well," Persa said, eyeing the wall's faint outlines. "They've truly abandoned their home?"

"I would not be surprised if their paintings are in the cellar," Sabra replied, going through drawers and finding emptiness. "Maybe some spare clothes that they did not take."

Persa shook her head, "What are they thinking? This is so incredibly suspicious, surely they understand that this could ruin their entire family?"

"I imagine they've realized that conclusion some time ago," Sabra said confidently. "Let us depart for the cellar. That should be the final piece of this particular puzzle."

Persa was more than happy to be leaving this house. Beautiful as it was, there was a haunting feeling to it being abandoned that had nothing to do with her Glimmer.

"I'm tempted to have us sleep here for the night," Sabra said idly, the last one out of the room. "It would be good to see if anyone would return or scout the premises."

Persa would have missed it, had she not turned at that moment to protest the action in favor of the comfortable room at the Inn.

The shadow behind Sabra - her hulking form just now approaching the doorway out of the master bedroom - bulged in size, seeming to rush out of the corner as it flew to Sabra-

And was suddenly replaced by half of a man, the shadow sliding off his body to pile up on the floor as he leapt at Sabra, a wicked hand-scythe swinging out and curving along her throat.

Gleaming blade touched the raised collar of her coat and for the briefest of moments, Persa could imagine it slicing through the cloth like butter. Felt herself be splattered by the violent, hot, spray of blood as Sabra's artery was slit open and she left this mortal coil.

Which is, of course, not what happened in the slightest.

The moment the blade pressed into the cloth, a pale-blue eye glittered along the weave of the outfit. The blade was thrust back as a brief but powerful focus of wind shoved the weapon away and Sabra back into her attacker.

She stumbled for only a moment and then recovered just as fast. The Aisan vanished for less than a second, appearing on the outside of the arm, hand on the attacker's wrist. She did not hesitate to plunge a knife down to the hilt in his forearm, making him scream and buckle.

A sharp backhand to his mouth and nose shut him up with a dull crack, and a spurt of blood from the broken nose.

Persa barely understood what had just happened. "Wh-"

Thunder roared, smoke and fire pluming out of another shadow corner. This time Persa could see the glittering eye patterns falter on the shadow covering this next attacker.

Attackers, she corrected, seeing two more masked individuals behind the faint smoke. All three wore old fashioned musket rifles, and the next two fired their shots.

Sabra stumbled back, large patches of her coat-weave glowing as the bullets were fended off by air. She fell back, only to vanish, reappearing beside the group of soldiers who had opened fire.

"Ambush!" She roared out, quickly drawing her revolver and opening fire into the trio.

The powerful sounds of gunfire in the confined space hit Persa in her bones, but it was the growing shouts all around her that terrified her.

From seemingly every corner, small huddles of masked men and women ditched their shadowy cloaks and veils, rushing from corners or out of rooms that they hadn't investigated yet.

Not all of them were armed with the outdated rifles or matching pistols. Some came bearing hatchets, axes, knives, and bars of wood with metal nails.

Madmen, Persa thought with genuine horror. Heretics.

"Flee!" Sabra roared, having finished killing the group of men and vanishing. She reappeared behind a group rushing from the opposite wing, turning and blasting through their back with three or four powerful shots. "Get outside!"

Her mind whirring, it was Milian pulling her hand that actually got Persa to do as she was told. Persa almost went to pick him up, before deciding against it, knowing she would only slow down the both of them.

She was quick to flee with him down the stairs as Sabra continued the fire fight up above, men screaming, fighting, and dying as she vanished between each combatant. The bark of her revolver ended with a click, but that was not the end of the fighting, as a man's voice cried out, "Her knives-"

The screams that followed were enough of a punctuation.

Second floor.

Persa considered busting out the glass of the window with her own gun, her hand shaking as it went to her holster, fumbling to remove the leather strap.

Don't fail now! Pull out your thrice-eyed gu-

"Masked!"

Persa whipped her head around.

A large group of men and women were running down the hallway, the one in the lead raising a flintlock pistol her way. Behind him, another carried a glowing box that was leaving thick trails of black smoke, the smell of it too rough to be incense.

It was in no way accurate, not with this lighting and her Blessing was not that strong in terms of clarity of vision, but for a moment she could almost see the glowing gleam of bloodlust behind the dark holes of his cloth mask.

A knife materialized from a small ring of white, white-eye patterns coating the entirety of the blade and hilt, before it resumed speed and punctured the skull of the pistol wielding madman.

He fell like a puppet without its strings, hilt sticking out of head, fingers not even having the power to pull the trigger. There was a gasp of horror from the four around him, all of them stumbling at his corpse, looking down in shock.

Then Sabra was among them, in the same rings that once surrounded her weaved knife, and she brought death as a passenger.

The knife in her hand ripped through the throat of one of the masked attackers, her other arm coming up with a vicious elbow that rocked the chin of another. One tried to slam a brick on a stick against her back, but the weaved coat shoved the weapon aside, only serving to make her stumble forward.

She rolled with the momentum, sliding to one knee and glancing back-

-appearing behind the brick wielder with two knives, swiping the back of his knees, and then plunging both into opposite sides of his neck.

She turned to the smoke-box attacker, but they were spinning it in a circle on a chain, the thick black smoke obscuring them from view as they retreated into parts that were denser with the fumes.

Too dense for her to use her Glare through, Persa realized, watching Sabra halt at the edge of the smoke.

Sabra turned to Persa, going stiff, "Down!"

Persa and Milian ducked down, bullets racing overhead and at least two clipping the front of Sabra's coat before she vanished into a tumble.

A quick look back the opposite way showed that Sabra had launched herself into another group, thrashing with deadly abandon as they tried to escape their horrific fates. And among them was another smoke-box user, closing off that hallway and trying to cover them all in blinding smoke.

Trying to hamper her ability to vanish and reappear.

This is more than basic precautions.

And there was more smoke from above. Injured men and women were stumbling down to the stairway, clutching injuries and weapons, holding each other for support. Smoke followed them down, hindering Sabra's movements to slaughter them.

Persa pulled Milian behind her and made for the bottom floor. She did not want to test her luck against those who might have reloaded or unused guns. Nor did she want to risk Milian being caught in the crossfire.

The poor boy was wheezing, whimpering, but she was no better. She could feel snot trailing down her nose and tears brimming at the edge of her vision.

The door was right there.

And the shadows beneath the drapes unfolded, revealing five madmen barring their way, the shadows becoming normal blankets as they hit the floor.

The largest of them held a scatter-gun and aimed it directly at Milian.

"Not the Chronic!" A woman's voice came out of the masked attacker beside the armed man. She sounded younger than Persa. "They'd kill us all!"

The man's scatter-gun wavered for a moment.

He turned it on Persa.

Her eyes widened, "No-"

The barrel erupted with angry fire, smoke, and murderous metal.