Viola Grimaldi shifted in her chair, and could not decide which side to lean to.

“Well, my former superior, whose position I have now, chief investigator, worked hard to rid the city of those madmen,” said Viola. “They had a grip in the Mergre district for a decade, but we caught most of them some years back. Since then, it’s been stable. Well, I mean there had been terrible murders every month or so, but it hasn’t got worse.”

“Did you have an inner knowing on where to go or where to look, or how to interrogate those you caught?” I asked, and Viola nodded. “I heard that there’s been some unnerving developments lately. What can you tell us about them?”

“As I said before, my job’s been quite repetitive for the last few years—a maddened murderer or psychopath every other week. They usually do, um, terrible things to their victims. Cutting off body parts, some strange ritualistic habits, some kind of violation of the corpses. Stuff like that. But in the past few months, we haven’t heard of a single case. It’s all completely silent! We haven’t caught anyone, nobody is missing, and our informants know nothing. Captain Calis thinks it’s because of the good job of my department, but I don’t think so.”

“In Vatrel—” I started.

“We heard that there’s an alarming situation developing outside of Lottie, as well,” Florencia cut in.

“What happened in the Vatrel Valley is a secret, Jonas! Be more careful!” she added telepathically. She was right.

Viola’s interest was piqued by how we were slowly dancing around the truth. She also seemed to sense that she could speak more freely with us than she could with the old captain. She leaned closer.

“These types of crimes seem to be your specialty,” said Viola. “Does that mean you know what causes this? What kind of magic or… whatever it might be?”

Here, I wanted to speak for the group: “We have an understanding of who the Enemy is, but we have a limited understanding of their abilities and motives. Unfortunately, we must exercise the greatest caution in who we reveal this information.”

“Why?” Viola didn’t understand.

“We believe that divulging the motives of the Enemy could potentially reveal far more than intended,” I said cautiously.

“I don’t understand!”

I felt like I was walking into a dead end.

“Let’s, for the moment, say that this phenomenon is linked to dark magic,” I said, trying to steer the discussion back to the matter at hand. I would not reveal any truths to her yet. I needed to be sure, but my heart already said Viola was to be trusted. But Iskander’s patience had reached its limit, and he sprang up from his seat.

“Can we stop dancing around the topic? We’re here to find Grasd Vranik! We know and have proof that he’s in the city right now—”

Before he could continue, Florencia shot him a murderous glare. Iskander grunted and sat back down.

“We find it highly unlikely that Vranik is in Lottie,” said Florencia, her tone even and tempered. We calmed down, except for Jaxine.

“He’s here!” she said, her tone cold and sharp.

“But Iskander is right,” continued Florencia. “We are looking for a dark sorcerer named Grasd Vranik, but our investigations have also given us evidence of a cult operating in your city. They call themselves the Zekt, and are led by someone called Goro.”

I couldn’t make sense of Viola’s expression.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of Vranik or any dark sorcerer in the city. At least not in these last few months. I’ve heard whispers from those cursed refugees about some great sorcerer, but not in Lottie,” said Viola. “But the name Goro does sound familiar. Some weeks ago, or maybe a few months now, I can’t remember. We caught a group of murderers and kidnappers, led by someone called Goroin. They kidnapped five teenagers, but we arrested them before any harm could be done to them.”

“Did your sensitivity help in catching them?” I asked, and Viola nodded.

She fell silent for a while, her gaze distant as she stirred what remained of her marmalade drink.

“We searched the entire Mergre district,” said Viola. “And it was like I could hear those kids crying. And I just followed the voices. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, but what we found in that basement still haunts my dreams.”

She stopped talking for some time to collect herself.

“We found those… bastards living in this moldy, horrid-looking basement, and they had these chilling drawings on the floors and walls that almost made me puke. My deputy-in-chief did vomit, and he couldn’t even stay in that basement. The drawings were drawn from cow’s blood, or maybe ox blood. I’m not sure. It could’ve been human blood. There were human remains in buckets and pots, and even… in piles in the corner. So they might’ve been human blood. I decided to burn the whole place down.”

“Have you encountered anything like this before?” I asked.

Viola shook her head violently.

“Never anything this terrible. But—” her voice trailed off as a sudden realization dawned upon her, “right after those arrests, everything stopped. I’ve never connected the two, but after Goroin and those freaks were caught, we haven’t got a single case. Only what we believe to be imitations. They lack the… foulness of the previous ones.”

“What happened with Goroin?” asked Florencia. “Can we meet him?”

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“I’m sorry, but no,” Viola apologized. “I tried interrogating him, but he seemed to have lost his sanity completely. He kept laughing like a maniac, saying we’re all doomed and that there was a—”

She stopped talking. We all leaned in.

“That there was a great, dark sorcerer—he didn’t use that word, but the meaning was the same—coming for us all. Then he kept on laughing and wriggling around in his chains.”

We all exchanged a look between us. I felt my hair rise on the back of my arms.

“What happened to him?” Florencia asked.

“He, um, stabbed his neck with a sharp piece of bone. Every one of them is now dead, in some way or another. Two were beaten to death by other inmates. Three committed suicide.”

Iskander’s frustration boiled over again, and he kicked the bench loudly. His face was red.

“I’m sorry for asking this, but none of you are bothered by what I’m telling you. Have you seen this before?” Viola asked.

“We have,” said Florencia, crossing her legs. “Viola, we need to get to that house, and you need to show me all the reports of that case—” Her tone was calm as always, but I felt she suppressed her disturbed thoughts.

“Why?” asked Viola.

“What does she mean, why?” Florencia was now agitated, but nothing showed in her facial expression.

“We need to see if we can find some clues or hints of either the Zekt or Vranik. I think this cult is much more important than you can even understand,” said Florencia, dropping her diplomatic facade for only a moment.

Viola shrugged, seemingly oblivious to Florencia’s subtle provocation. It was very like Florencia to disguise a little insult in the middle of what she was saying. I always liked hearing it, but this time, I thought it was unwarranted. As for the basement, Viola promised to take us there tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?” Iskander interjected, still restless as he paced around the room, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go now!”

“Iskander, we can’t see a damned thing at night,” I said. “We can wait until the morning. Sunrise is a few hours away.”

“Fine!” Iskander conceded and sat down beside Jaxine again, kicking his heel against the edge of the carpet.

Meanwhile, Florencia had regained composure, and she continued: “Viola, can you please share any rumors or information that you feel are important or significant, or just plainly unsettling?”

“Like I said before,” said Viola. “The past weeks, or months now, it’s just eerily silent. We haven’t caught anyone, our informants know nothing, and some contacts have gone silent. Almost as if they’re gone from the city. The refugees don’t know anything either. It’s a funny thing. Sometimes they know more than the locals about the shady stuff going around. But now? Nothing. That’s all I can think of.”

“Any piece can be valuable,” Florencia kept pushing, but Viola wouldn’t move more.

“You can dig through our reports and documents, and I can take you to the Mergre district. Maybe you can sense or notice something we haven’t, as you understand this phenomenon better than us.”

“See?” said Florencia. “This is why you must choose your words.”

“I know I should, but I’m not as good as you.”

With this done and over with, Iskander rose to his feet and gathered all his gear. His massive greatsword hung securely on his back, while his coat and large black duffel bag were slung over his thick shoulder.

“Then let’s stop this rambling and get some rest. Let’s make an early start,” said Iskander. “Where will we be sleeping?”

Viola promptly went to rouse the night shift guards from their half-slumber, and they quickly set about arranging comfortable rooms for us to sleep in.

They were nothing remarkable, just a tiny square box with a bed, nightstand, and mirror. Still, this was better than some taverns we had slept in during our travel.

*

We settled into our usual nightly routine before retiring to bed. I was meticulously scrubbing my feet with a coarse and soapy brush on the floor, massaging my toes and skin, when I asked Florencia: “She had purple eyes, is that common?”

Florencia was toweling off her damp shoulders and chest and said: “No, not common at all in Lienor, but not unheard of either. I think she must be of Stotor descent. I’ve heard that in the southern free cities of that peninsula, some people have purple eyes with raven-black hair. It’s likely her grandparents or great-grandparents come from those parts.”

“How strange,” I mumbled, and washed my face and body. She constantly reminded us of the importance of cleanliness during traveling, and it had grown on me. I thought it was a relaxing and mentally grounding ritual to do before meditating.

With a rather dreary tone, Florencia added: “So we actually are going to comb through the city and neighboring villages to look for someone we already know is not here. All that to pacify Iskander and Jaxine…”

“I think we have to. Their patience is running thin—”

“But you do realize that the moment they realize Vranik is in Stotor, they’re going to go there, right?”

“I hope they won’t,” I said. “I hope I can find a way to convince them to stay.”

“You can’t,” said Florencia resolutely. “I’ve known people like them before. They’re only driven by revenge. You can see it in Iskander more and more every day. And of course, Jaxine can’t think about anything else than that. She’ll go to the ends of the world to get her revenge. And in her blind grief, she’ll be dragging Iskander down with her. Without Jaxine, maybe you could convince him that his revenge is futile. I just don’t understand why you care so much.”

“I don’t know either,” I said honestly. “Maybe I have a soft spot for them, or I can empathize with that thirst for revenge. You know how I feel when I’m close to them. I get the same blind rage, I can hardly think straight.”

“But every time you catch yourself, Jonas, and then you’re back and sane.” She sighed. “Well, in any case, tomorrow we’ll go and see what we find with Viola. She seems competent enough.”

“She does have an innate understanding of the enemy, but it’s not a conscious one yet.”

Florencia smiled.

“You’re right. I feel like all she needs is a gentle push in the right direction,” said Florencia. “And while you focus on that, I’ll try to find as much as I can about the Zekt.”

We settled into a comfortable silence. I took a seat on the floor, right against the door, crossing my legs and focusing on steadying my breathing. It was dark in the room now, with only a single candle lit in front of me.

Suddenly Florencia’s sleepy voice broke the silence. “That marshall de-Vilgario was a proper jerk.” This seemed to be weighing on her mind as well.

“I actually liked him, in a strange way, even though he was direct. I understand why he disliked our secrecy. He bears a great burden and seems competent and confident enough. Just look at how he acted with the other captain—what was his name…”

“Orsin? Captain Orsin? I guess you’re right. But he should still learn some manners,” said Florencia. “Anyway, happy meditations. I’m going to sleep.”

The room fell into quietness again, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

There was something that gnawed at me, which I was afraid to admit to myself—I had actually no damned idea of what I was doing. All I had was some names, but no plan, no system, no fresh leads, no nothing. Initially, the idea of hunting the demonic threat as a privileged agent of the crown thrilled me, but now, the gargantuan reality of the task ahead of me was becoming all too clear.

I could cut down demons and their thralls with ease, with Goxhandar’s help, but I could only be in one place at a time, while the threat loomed over all the land. Traveling through every small village and town in the country, and cleansing them of the demonic taint, sounded utterly futile.

I had not told Florencia any of this yet, but I was certain she felt there were some dark thoughts eating away at me.

As I fell into a deep, trance-like meditative state, only seeing blackness around me, I mulled over the thoughts of the day. But what Goxhandar said kept coming back to the fore: see the world through their eyes.

But I failed at connecting those words with an action. I fell asleep, sitting cross-legged against the door.