Inside the house was frankly a mess, even by Silas’ standards. While relatively large, the space still struggled with containing over sixty people. As the old lady led them to the second floor Silas did his best to take in as many details as he could, mostly any alternative exits or the cellar.
If he’s learned anything over the last few days, it’s that he can’t get comfortable in one place too long. A blue light flashed in his eyes as the Nightmare Seed struggled to refine all the ambient fear energy, yet Silas still smiled as he noticed the mood rise as they walked by everyone. The tension visibly left their expressions albeit at the cost of Silas’ headache.
Equating the Nightweaver Pathway to an Empyreans, he’d probably be the equivalent of Six Gates while a Mature Seed is Nine. Cracked should be Twelve. It sounds strong, but Silas himself experienced the lack of real combat capability it gives in exchange for the fearlessness and improved mental faculties.
Even still, he appreciated those qualities and then some. Most of his achievements could be entirely linked to it. He wasn’t exactly a good shot before, but now he hits most of them. At the cost of a majority of his fear energy, he can even impose his will on people- the Green Eyed Mutant included.
While he hasn’t tested it much, it was an extremely overbearing ability that he didn’t plan on exposing to the masses. Not only because it’s extremely invasive but also because he didn’t want to be hunted down. Nightmares as it is has a bit of a stigma.
They stepped into what Silas guessed was the master bedroom and suddenly the space was a lot more open. Barely six people sat inside the room and with the addition of them three, it still seemed spacious.
Hector quickly exchanged hugs and eventually introduced them all. The old lady and the older gentleman were Hector’s parents, Elaine and Michael. After that it was his brother and sister-in-law as well as their two kids who hid behind their mom’s legs. They seemed rather knowledgeable with the Wayfinder stuff, as did everyone downstairs.
Silas imagined the other groups were probably the same. Many might consider the Wayfinders heretics and try to survive alone but most just want to live, led by a ‘heretic’ or an Empyrean. At the end of the day, they can just feign ignorance. How could they really know the difference?
After the brief introductions Silas declined having a room for himself and made his way back downstairs, leaving them to catch up. Silas knew that if Sebastian was in Hector’s situation, he’d probably be fussing about his safety too. He didn’t want to infringe on that time with his family.
He found a place in the corner, somewhere in the kitchen, and did a quick once over of his clothes and supplies to make sure he didn’t lose anything. Then he focused on the Nightmare Seed and got to actively purifying the incoming fear energy. He would wait here until the Messenger came to relay today’s meeting to Hector.
There was only one disturbance in the six hours it took for his innate talent to recharge. Hector had come down and cast what seemed like a spell, prompting the entire building to fall silent. Mouths moved with no voice. Alongside the resulting jump in fear energy, Silas guessed a group of mutants had just passed by the house.
[Wayfinder in immediate vicinity]
When the blue light finally washed over the Nightmare Seed again, Hector interrupted his cultivation and led him back to the front door where a rather lithe woman stood. Bright blonde hair that rested on her shoulders with slightly round features and green eyes. Grey light armour made from some form of leather covered her form- her presence seemed to resist being perceived, as if one would forget looking at her only moments later.
That seemed to be the case as well, considering none of the other residents of the house seemed to acknowledge her until Hector and Silas walked up. The way she looked at Silas unsettled him a little bit but he chalked it up to wariness. He himself was thinking of the fastest way to kill her.
Ultimately neither of them made a move and after a few brief moments as well as some of the survivors offering them tea, they sat down at the only two sofas to talk. The Messenger sat on one while Hector and Silas took the other. She glared at Silas the entire time but she started talking nonetheless.
“Who is this?” She lifted her cup, her expression rigid as stone even as she drank. “We believed we found every Wayfinder in the District.”
Hector opened his mouth but Silas instead spoke for himself, cracking his fingers idly. “I escaped the Market District on the first day. I was only chased back here yesterday when Hector found me, running for his life.”
The Messenger glanced at Hector and waited for him to nod before she leaned back into the sofa, her vigilance significantly lower than before. After that, she finally got to the important bits.
“Four attacks total. Two Wayfinders dead. The other two escaped with most of their guardsmen but the survivors didn’t make it. We discussed the move of the remaining four groups and decided that we’d move one a day with the help of the now free Wayfinders and the guardsmen wherever we could spare them.”
“When does my group leave?” Hector didn’t even touch his tea, his foot bouncing up and down. “They almost found us yesterday.”
Silas didn’t like the sudden shift in the woman’s expression, her face losing its rigidness as a sense of guilt shone weakly in her eyes only to be snuffed out. As her face turned stoic once more she put the tea cup down, now empty.
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“Due to the difficult nature of your powers, your group will be last, when we have the most power available to escort it. In a week when we have plenty of combatants to spare, we will lead your people to safety.”
The Chimekeeper’s face blanched beneath the ceiling light and the fidgeting of his feet stopped. Hector smiled nonetheless, nodding slightly. “So long as we haven’t been abandoned.”
“And you?”
“And me?” Silas recoiled as he turned back to the Messenger and her question, his brows furrowed. Even now he continued refining fear energy, leaving him to be a little slow in his response. “What do you mean, me?”
“Your aura is weak but strange. Fierce like an Empyrean but also hazy like a fog. You’re either useless or pretending. Which is it?”
Silas’ eye twitched and he realised he really did get unlucky with his first mission. Even Hector could see how strong he was let alone this woman, yet he had no method of doing the same. Was it some kind of technique?
“I got unlucky with my first mission.”
“Unlucky?”
“The Memory I was shown had no resources.”
Wait a minute, memory? Resources? If it was just a memory, how could they get stronger in it? How could Erebus leave a tattoo on him? Why did the Lotus call it a memory?
[Information restricted. Please earn necessary rights]
He hadn’t really had the luxury to think about the Ascension Lotus before. It could refuse telling him but it couldn’t stop him from pondering it anyways. Silas doubted the resources put up in the shop were all from what Wayfinders owned in the real world, so it was likely they were a reward or something from the Memory. Not to mention Erebus breaking into the Lotus Space.
The Memories were real to some degree, but how?
“Mm? But you still got a path, correct?” The Messenger asked, pouring herself another cup of tea. “You don’t seem stupid enough to ignore a path to power during the Darktide.”
“Do I have to answer?”
“We only need a name for the Pathway.”
Silas looked at Hector, realising the man had never explicitly asked himself yet gave away his own Pathway relatively easily. Was this why? What use was knowing? His eyes narrowed as he looked at the woman. She sighed and shook her head. “The Leader only wants to know roughly what to expect. I myself follow the Brightshade Pathway.”
“Nightweaver.”
“We’ve seen that one in the store, one of the few worth 200 points. Glad to have you.” The woman nodded and looked back at Hector. “The Leader will send the Sergeant here to protect your group in the meantime.”
His face soured as Silas realised he’d been played. He didn’t even consider using the prices in the store to gauge someone's capabilities. That also meant that those who didn’t put their Pathways up had more cards to play. Silas made it a point to visit the store and memorise as many Pathways and their values as possible next time he had the chance.
“Miss Messenger-”
“Call me Lady Brightshade.”
“Yes, right, Lady Brightshade-” Silas resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the moniker. “Is it at all possible I could come to this meeting? I’d like to relocate.”
The Messenger raised a brow and looked at Hector once before returning her gaze to him. After what felt like a few moments of thought, she finally nodded her head and took out a small piece of paper with an address on it, sliding it over the coffee table. “Tomorrow at noon. Don’t be followed.”
He took the piece of paper and nodded when he saw the address, 15 Wellington Street. A bar closer to the edge of Ironside’s underground section, right up against one of the cavern walls and rather secluded amidst cheap housing.
After business was discussed the three briefly exchanged goodbyes and Hector led her to the door. She left without much fanfare amidst the final remnants of sunlight, her presence slowly fading from sight. Silas could still see her, but it felt like her eyes tried to avoid looking at her even as he filled them with energy.
Brightshade? Light and shadow? Her effect on perception is probably why they assigned her to be the messenger. Silas stepped back inside and allowed the survivors to close the door and board it up as per usual.
Silas quickly asked Hector if his group would let him cultivate during the night and with a little bit of confusion, they said yes. He barely described the process, only telling them enough to know that if they saw a weird glowing light merge with someone, it wasn’t harmful. Silas was.. surprised at how easily they believed- no, trusted him.
Hector went back upstairs as night fell and the Nightweaver returned to the kitchen briefly to continue refining his fear energy until the survivors started to fall asleep, where he returned to the living room and started quietly refining nightmares. Six hours and some three dozen nightmares later, he finally felt his innate talent recharge again.
A blue light washed over the Nightmare Seed within his mind and it suddenly rushed out of his body, rapidly consuming all the fear energy in the house. The Seed looked like it was breathing as it took in energy and expelled whatever impurities it had. With every fluctuation it got slightly bigger, the black scales shinier, the blue and purple veins brighter.
Fifteen minutes later the Seed grew still, the energy drained dry. More than three times bigger now, the Nightmare Seed was easily the size of his head if not slightly larger. Silas wasn’t even sure it would return to his mind as it usually did. With a thought, the Seed grew small and flew back into him.
He felt a strange itch from his body as the feedback from his breakthrough began to appear. Starting at his skin, the itch quickly became unbearable as it spread to every one of his senses. Silas was practically writhing on the floor in between the sleeping bodies as his mind was overwhelmed.
His eyeballs, his fingertips, his tongue, his nails- each and everything itched like thousands of insects crawling and biting across their surface.
[Congratulations, Silvanus. Your Nightmare Seed has Matured]
Somewhere between an hour and Eternity, Silas finally regained his faculties on the hardwood floor. He could see the tiniest of cracks in the sealing, differentiate the breathing patterns of every single person in the room, smell the food hidden away in cans and jars beneath the floorboards. Then he became another sleeping body on the floor.