[Talisman seal – grows in strength with your suspicion]

I lament your truth, poor wax seal, secure.

Intact, you speak of faith, unbroken, sure,

Shattered, you spin of tales, lazy, impure.

Though why exist? Consider it your fee,

Mistrust implied, a secret, you to me.

– Susie Q, Journal of Grievances

Chapter 6 – Eris is Dead

A loud pounding shattered the stillness of Toki's chamber, wrenching her from the tendrils of sleep that had so mercifully entwined her only moments before. Her eyes opened wide as she bolted upright. She looked through her window. It was dark. Night had arrived. Her stomach rumbled.

What, why? "Who is it?" Her voice was a groggy mumble, barely piercing the silence that followed the banging. With trembling fingers, she brushed aside a wayward strand of white hair that clung to her damp forehead.

"Open up, Toki! Now!" The voice beyond the threshold was fraught with an intensity that knotted Toki's stomach—trouble? She recognized it instantly: Elder Pamela.

Scrambling from the tangled sheets, Toki stumbled to the door. She fumbled with the lock, hands clumsy with sleep and sudden dread, and flung the door open.

Elder Pamela loomed in the doorway, her usual stoic demeanor crumbling under the weight of urgent news. The elder's eyes, which were usually sharp as flint, now flickered with tension.

Something bad’s happened. Gods damn it, Elara.

"Child," Pamela gasped, her chest heaving as if each word were wrung from her soul. "Eris... Eris is dead. Murdered."

Toki's pulse hammered. She did not care for her great aunt. She was very much a busybody who always reprimanded her for her misadventures, but murder—such a thing was inconceivable. Her mind reeled, struggling to assimilate the jagged fragments of this new, nightmarish reality.

When was death so commonplace?

"Murdered?" Toki echoed, her voice a hoarse whisper, tasting the word as it left her lips. It was bitter, laced with implications she dared not unravel.

Wake up. I’m dreaming. I have to be. I’ll wake up now, and grandmother will be here. She’ll sort everything out.

"Listen to me!" Pamela's hand clamped onto Toki's arm with an urgency that brooked no argument. "You must understand the gravity of what has transpired."

Golgheim’s words flashed in her head, power vacuums lead to war. Murder. Leads to war.

Toki nodded, her every nerve alight with the instinct to run, to hide—to do anything but stand here. "Are we... are we in danger?" Toki's query emerged as a whisper.

Pamela nodded. "We must act swiftly, my child.”

A lie. Her eyes give her away. I'm not dreaming.

"Quickly now," Pamela urged, her voice quivering like a plucked string. "We must evade those who will seek you next."

Toki's mind raced and followed along. She grabbed her satchel and rifled through drawers snatching the essentials—bottled and inked aeso, her hammer, and a few engraving tools. She pulled her boots from the oven and with practiced ease, slid her feet inside.

"Evade... why?"

"Because you are the centerpiece of this clan," Pamela countered. "The balance is broken with Eris's death."

"So why am I in danger?" Toki spat out, wrestling with the strap of her satchel. The irony was not lost on her; the same elders who had mocked her for her useless talent would now fight over her… including, Toki suspected, Pamela.

I can’t discount that Elara’s letter may be making me paranoid. But… this… it’s a murder.

"You are now a Prime. I’m certain you don’t know what that fully entails. What you can do to Aris itself is dangerous. Believe me Toki.”

Toki nodded, swallowing the knot of bitterness that rose in her throat. She slung the satchel across her body.

"Where—" Toki began, but the question died upon her lips.

"Follow me," came Pamela's answer.

The corridor stretched before them, its oppressive darkness punctuated by the erratic flicker of torches. Toki followed Pamela's quiet but hurried steps, each footfall echoing a dire rhythm, erratic compared to the rhythmic ‘smith hammer. A chill that had nothing to do with the night air seeped into Toki's bones, whispering of unseen eyes and ears attuned to their flight.

She trailed behind Pamela, her senses prickling with the electric tang of danger. "Keep your steps light," Pamela hissed without turning, her voice fraught with tension. "We are not alone tonight."

Toki nodded, though the elder could not see it. Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, tracking the faintest movements—a curtain fluttering against a window, a door left ajar.

"Here." Pamela extended a gnarled hand toward an unremarkable stretch of wall. "Through this passage—"

But the words caught in her throat as a distant clamor rose, the clatter of something overturned. A momentary lapse, a chink in the elder's armor—and Toki sensed her chance.

"Forgive me," she murmured, before springing forward. In one fluid motion, Toki summoned her courage. With a swift, calculated strike, she delivered the blow to the nape of Pamela's neck. The elder crumpled in silence, her body hitting the floor with a dull thud, yellow robes sprawled in disarray. Toki stood over her. Despite her age, Pamela would wake shortly.

"Forgive me, Elder," she whispered to the unconscious form at her feet. "But it seems I will have to make this escape alone."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

She dared not glance over her shoulder; instead, Toki focused on the return path—a labyrinthine trail back to the sanctuary of her room. Adrenaline quickened her movements, lending her limbs a preternatural swiftness.

"Here! By the North Wing!" A shout shattered the illusion of solitude.

Toki's gaze snapped toward the source: two kin, their silhouettes etched by torchlight, rushing toward the fallen elder. Her throat tightened, but she quelled the panic rising within, focusing on escape.

"Stay with her, I’ll send for help!" one cried out to the other, his voice a blade of alarm cutting through the stillness.

"Who would do this?" the second spoke, a whisper barely discernible yet laden with suspicion and dread.

Fleeting relief washed over Toki as they tended to Pamela, granting her the precious seconds needed to hide. She summoned mana into her new enchantment, [Bindings of Tyndall] and used it to gain a series of footfalls in the air. Silently, she ascended the walls, her hands and feet finding purchase.

"Where is she! Find her!" The command echoed below, a new voice. She heard a scream in the night from further away.

Alongside her chambers, the water-filled quarry loomed ahead. Toki navigated the rooftops back to the eastern wing.

“This way. On the roofs! She’s back in the east wing!”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! she screamed in her head, a mantra to bolster her courage.

Standing on top of her own chambers, she now was faced with a choice. If I hide away in my room, they won’t be able to take me. I have enough enchantments to defend myself. But it’s still a cage. Damn it Obie. You and your shards damned chillbird cage. Chillbirds can’t be caged, they’re made of water.

The quarry's edge loomed in front of her. Toki stood for a heartbeat, the world beneath her a chasm of chilling promise. Then she leapt. Her slender form pierced the night before she broke the surface of the pond with a near-silent splash. Cold water enveloped her. She descended into the depths and soon, the chaos outside was muffled by the water above her.

I have 10 minutes of breath. Vitality + Vigor / 10. 10.4 minutes to be exact. I can’t count on the last couple due to the cold, though this is more than enough.

With each stroke, Toki swam deeper, pushing through the water, determined to leave this entrapment. Her muscles ached with the cold, but the pain was a welcome companion, grounding her in the moment when everything else seemed chaotic.

As she swam, memories flickered unbidden. The mining shaft, her target below, materialized in her mind, a relic of simpler times. She could almost hear Oberon's laughter, bubbling up from the depths of memory as they discovered the hidden entrance to their secret world. But he’s gone now.

"Look at this, Toki, they’ll never find us here!" Oberon's voice echoed in the hollows of her recollection, "Our very own fortress!"

"Hmph, it’s too small. One day I’ll build a fortress as big as Allie Ring itself." She had replied, the wryness in her tone unable to mask the genuine affection she felt for the place.

They were children then, untouched by the complexities of the present. The mining shaft had been their playground, a domain of dreams and dares, where the other Twice children couldn’t follow. Couldn’t torment them. Vitality + Vigor / 10. Back then, the shaft was adventure. It was an escape from the clan’s wrath when you broke a forgework. It was slipping into town unseen to meet your real friends. Toki felt like she was tarnishing the shaft’s memory by using it to flee from betrayal and politics.

The present clawed back with icy fingers, dragging Toki from the sepia-toned nostalgia. She was 10 meters deep. The old mining shaft was close; a forgotten passage that she knew could be her escape. Toki kicked hard, propelling herself toward the darkened maw of the shaft into the cliff face in front of her. Even in the dark, she would know this path.

Toki continued her submerged swim inside with purposeful strokes, each movement stirring up sediment. She looked out for the telltale blue bioluminescence of the coral she had planted, guiding her path through the maze, just as they had guided her and Oberon's childish games.

Five minutes. Faster than usual. With a surge, Toki broke the surface, gasping for air as the chill of the quarry gave way to the dank atmosphere of the shaft. Her hair clung to her face, the strands reflecting faint bioluminescence from the moss that clung to the rock walls – more furnishings to illuminate her fortress. She heaved herself onto a ledge, water cascading from her slim form, and took a moment to listen. Silence enveloped her, save for the slow drip of water from stalactites.

"Can you imagine it, Toki? Real stars!" Oberon's voice echoed with the dreamy quality of their youth as the memory washed over her, as cold and clear as the water she navigated. "Not these painted ceilings or pinpricks in the distance. But vast, endless space."

"Space," Toki murmured back, her younger self filled with equal parts wonder and conviction. "We'll find them, Obie. And our parents too. There has to be more than this... more than metal and stone."

Their fantasies had been as boundless as the universe they yearned to explore. They'd huddled in the old mining shaft, their sanctuary from the strictures of their lineage, sketching out constellations and plotting courses to worlds they'd only seen in books.

Toki's resolve crystallized with the fading memory. She rose to her feet and glanced at the constellations now with anguish, shaking off the remnants of hesitation. The shaft stretched before her. Her boots found familiar purchase on the uneven ground, and she advanced with purpose. Obie’s gone, and he’s not coming back.

The shafts twisted and turned, like ancient serpents carved into the underbelly of the world. The secrets here were hers alone now. The cold sunk into her skin and the wet clothing dripped in the silence.

She walked for a half hour through the labyrinthine maze of the old alabaster mine. In that time, she solidified her suspicion. Both Eris and Pamela must have been working together. They were thick as thieves. That means Copper or Marrow killed Eris. They had their vote. Marrow warned me—so was it Copper? Why?

Each step in the dim light also solidified her fear. The Falkori Dragons were after her – the system issued its warning. Golgheim issued his as well: Dragonslaying leads to genocide. She remembered the fear in his eyes. The danger seeped in—in the dark it was crippling. Chased out of her home, and shivering in the dark, she felt alone.

She finally reached the opening to the exit.

Emerging from the stygian embrace of the mining shaft, Toki's gaze landed upon an unexpected sentinel. Golgheim Vast stood as a lone figure amidst the dark forest behind, bathed in the ethereal glow of a sigil that pulsed beneath his feet like a heartbeat of light. For a moment, Toki hesitated, arrested by the interplay of familiarity and intrigue.

"Huh?" she murmured, her voice a soft intrusion upon the heavy silence. Her approach was tentative, each step measured against the churn of questions in her mind. Why was he here? “Why are you here?"

"Took you long enough," Golgheim intoned, his voice warm. "I’ve been waiting here for hours.” He pointed at the sigil below. “Damn contract."

Toki hesitated only for a heartbeat before closing the distance between them. His embrace enfolded her—solid and warm, a bulwark against the encroaching desolation of her circumstances. "I didn't know where else to run."

"Come now," the scent of ancient tomes clung to him.

“Did you know this was going to happen? Eris is dead. Elara is dead. Fuck. Oberon is dead.”

"Questions for later, my dear," Golgheim assured her gently, his hands resting on her shoulders. " I intend to keep you safe. I am contracted by your grandmother, after all. We've been ensnared in a web not of your making, and I will see us free from it."

"Free... heh. You’re stuck here like me too, huh." The words hung between them as she pointed at the sigil.

"Indeed…" he acknowledged, a somber note threading through his words.

"Can you get me out of here? Away from all of this?" Her voice, usually so steady, now trembled like a leaf in the wind.

“No. This is no nightmare, Tokyo. You cannot simply wake up. Now come.”

He turned away from the cavern's mouth, sigil fading. Toki's still wet feet squelched against the damp earth as she and Golgheim threaded their way through the underbrush, the darkness of the forest canopy pressing down upon them. The cool air nipped at her cheeks, carrying with it the promise of rain.

"Careful," Golgheim murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the stillness. "Roots can make you trip."

She nodded, her gaze fixed on the uneven ground, but something—a prickling sensation along the nape of her neck—compelled her to look back. Through the interlacing branches, Toki caught the briefest glimpse of Elder Marrow in the twilight. His silhouette was perched atop a craggy outcrop, motionless as a gargoyle, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity.

"Keep moving," Golgheim urged, sensing her hesitation.

Her throat tightened, and she pulled her gaze away from the ominous figure, focusing instead on Golgheim's steadfast profile.