I knew I should never have come back to this town. This is the last thing I need right now.

You see, there is only one type of being that can go to the Purgatory realm at will. They are immortal beings similar to Angels in terms of power. They stand as a link to each God or Godess from the physical realm. Each Deity has a contingent of servants beneath them in the Celestial Realm who do their bidding, but they all have one thing in common.

They have no access to our world, so they created beings like me. Apparently, there was another one now.

"It's called a Chosen," I said heavily, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't look at Stone or Myra, so I kept my eyes on the floor. Stone avoided looking at me as well as he maintained his silence. I heard Myra gulp down another sip of coffee.

"No, that's not true. You're a Deified Miss Rowena. You can't be--" she said, but I cut her off.

"A Chosen is an ascended version of a Deified, Myra. Gods and Goddesses can give out Marks to several mortals, but the abilities they gain are temporary. A Chosen is extremely rare, and each Deity can only have one. They have to have a certain type of soul, and they get to keep their abilities in exchange for..." I drifted off as my throat got tight. I played with the band on on my ring finger under my glove, feeling Myra's eyes boring into me. Suddenly I felt cold again and the darkness inside stirred with renewed vigor. Thankfully, it didn't whisper anything this time.

"In exchange for what?" Myra asked, her tone sharp. I shook my head, my eyes still on the floor. I felt the weight of grief settle over me and I struggled to maintain my composure. Stone's chair creaked under his weight as he shifted, but he still said nothing. Myra hissed out an irritated breath when I refused to answer.

"Fine. How did you become a Chosen then?" Myra asked as she sat beside me. I shook my head again, my temples pounding. A mug seemed to materialize from the air and was pushed into my hands. Transparent fingers squeezed my arm just before they vanished again.

"It doesn't matter. All you need to know is there's another Chosen with shape-shifting abilities in this town somewhere. I don't know his motive, but we need to find him before he kills again. Currently, I'm your only viable suspect as the only known Chosen in town. I don't like what that implies," I said as I sighed and rolled my neck. I knew that Stone didn't suspect me, but if it got out I was a Chosen, there was no telling how the Council would react. I didn't exactly have the best reputation.

After a moment, I pushed the thoughts away and felt the warmth of the mug in my hands. I sipped the brew, the coffee burning it's way down my throat.

"Thank you Kage," I said to the room in general, and I felt a cold invisible hand squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. I finally lifted my gaze to Stone. He was looking at me from behind his desk. He seemed calm, but I didn't miss the watery gleam in his eyes. Suddenly, I remembered that this drudged up equally painful memories for him. Myra interrupted my thoughts as she set her mug on the table with a decisive crack.

"I don't think so! You're not getting off that easy, Miss Rowena. I'm tired of waiting for truth. First your became a Deified, then Fayra suddenly gets murdered, and then you stopped talking to pretty much everyone for ten years and disappear for the past three! And now I find out you're a 'Chosen', as you call them," she said her voice rising. Her exhausted eyes seemed to get back some of their light as she crossed her arms stubbornly.

"What exactly am I dealing with here?! You will tell me the full truth, Rowena. Now," she said with the tone of an heiress scolding a servant. I sat taller in my chair, sipping my coffee and standing to my full height. I stared down at her with slitted eyes.

"My past is not a topic up for discussion," I growled. Myra shot to her feet as well, her face thunderous.

"I won't have my life be put at risk so you can keep your precious secrets!" she said, a flush coming to her pale cheeks.

"Tough bollocks, Princess," I said, all warmth now gone from my tone. Myra leaned into me, her face inches from mine. When had she gotten taller than me?

"I guessing this secret cost Fayra her life. Is it going to cost me mine?" she asked, a cruel gleam coming to the blue of her eyes. I felt it then, the easy slide of energy coming out as my eyes turned from violet to radiant blue. At the same time, I felt that darkness grow again and my voice changed with my rage. It became a deeper feminine voice that spoke of primordial power.

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

"You want to find out what out what a Chosen can do? Careful what you wish for--" I said before I could stop myself. I could feel the presence settling on me again like cold claws enclosing my soul. I was going to do it. I was going to--

"Enough," Stone said. He didn't say it particularly loud, but the sadness in it was enough to neatly undercut the glaring match between Myra and I. He stood to walk beside the two of us, and his hand settled on my shoulder. Just like that, the feeling was gone, and the rage retreated. The energy drained from my eyes, and I gained control again. Stone stared at me until the light had faded, and then nodded. He refocused on Myra.

"Rowena has previously made me aware of what a Chosen can do. Forgive her outburst please. It's a...difficult topic for the both of us. I also suggest that you give Rowena some slack on the matter, because if she's right, she's your best bet for safety," he said gently. Myra looked back at me, her gaze still cold. After several moments, something shifted in her eyes and she nodded.

"Now, we have to focus on the future, and you both need to know more about the murders," he said, going back to his desk and sitting heavily. He gestured to the chairs we had been sitting in as Kage appeared with a tray of food. She offered it to him, placing a small plate in front of him and taking some of the papers off his desk. She filed them as Stone picked up some bread, butter, and cheese from the tray. A second later, Kage reappeared between Myra and I with food for each of us. Stone swallowed his first bite, and looked back at us before he spoke.

“Ya’ll better get comfortable. We’re going to be here a while.”

*******

In the end, we found out seven Deified had been murdered. An additional thirteen of their family members were among the dead, with twelve more missing.

But the prospects of finding them alive were not optimistic. Some of the family members were found completely torn apart to the point where it was difficult to identify them. The Deified were all found intact, as if their souls had simply left their bodies.

Now I knew personally what happened to them.

I shivered, thinking out what it must have been like to have the pages ripped out of their books. Just one page had been agonizing, but all of them? I couldn't even imagine a pain equal to that. This killer was sadistic and seemed to enjoy his task. When he was trying to kill me, he had seemed content to take his time.

Amidst the more gruesome details, something stood out to me. All the Deified found dead had the same God Mark on them.

The God of Knowing.

This made the crimes especially heinous because the God of Knowing seldom bestowed his mark. It was said that those who got the chance to use that mark went on to change the world as we knew it.

My father was a prime example. When I was little, he had been nothing more than a simple tinkerer. Our family owned a small shop on a nearly deserted side street of Tumblend. He made small gadgetry and fixed pocket watches. However, his real love laid with making guns. All firearms at the time were pretty dangerous to use. Many of them jammed, and some even backfired in the user's hand. However, their effectiveness when they worked was terrifying. Also, they were so expensive that only the extremely rich or criminals were able to own them. My father wanted to make a safe firearm and a registration system to keep track of their users.

My mother had made a meager wage as a Sword Maiden for one of the local Deified, but she'd had to stop when my brother and I were born. My father's progress was extremely slow because he had to provide for his family, but also because gang bosses who owned some firearms constantly stole from us.

My father was at a fair in the town of Gear’s End when a man had tried to rob our house. It had been raining, the air humid and choking. I still remember the lullaby my mother had sang to send me to sleep that night. When the thief came, my mother had defended us, but not before being shot a couple times.

Even as she laid bleeding, my mother had managed to cut the thief to ribbons before he got to us. The medics had saved my mother’s life, but we didn’t have enough money to pay the physicians to remove the bullets that had lodged themselves in her body. She fell into a coma as the metal slowly poisoned her.

My father returned from his travel, saying he had received a mark from the God of Knowing. I begged him to use it to find out how to cure my mother, but as usual, he hadn’t listened. Instead, he had used it to discover the design for countless guns and the way to mass produce them.

Even if I were to cure her, she would never be the same. She will hate her life if she wakes up. You won't see it now, but it's better that she passes to the Far Shore.

I’ve never forgiven him. And I never will.

Just like that, the McAlisters went from a forgettable family of tinkerers to the noble family owning a pistol company worth millions. Mother never saw that dream come to life.

That was the power of the God of Knowing. He could give you access to a secret that made you a cut above the rest. Permanently.

“What about the missing family members?” I asked Stone, shaking the memory away.

“We're searching everywhere, but we can't even be sure that their remains aren't somewhere among the other dead,” explained Stone, now well into his third cup of coffee. He was tired. He tried to hide it, but I knew him, and I saw it in every line of his posture. The ways his eyes half-closed when he spoke, the way his shoulders slumped, and the way he kept rubbing his eyes.

“Myra, what Mark does you father have?” I asked. She looked at me evenly, then down at her parasol. I noticed for the first time it had the Beaufoutonte family crest on it.

“Right now, he has the God of Love’s Mark,” she said hesitantly, her eyes wide, “but he used a Mark of the God of Knowing several years ago.”

“I remember when-” Stone began, but his memory would forever go unsaid as we heard heavy bootsteps rush down the hallway. Without any hesitation, the door was wrenched open to reveal a town guard, his young face flushed.

“Sir,” he said, panting, “The Elemancers are here. And there’s…there’s fire.”