Hours came and went, the sun had fully set by the time their group reached their destination. The Deium Refinery was a rather large compound consisting of three buildings surrounded by a chain link fence.

Of the three, the largest building was actually a boarding house for independent employees to live in. Labelled the dormitory, it offered adequate enough housing for just over a hundred people, not to mention it was free.

That was nowhere near large enough, however. Hector’s group alone was around sixty people and Amus’ group was always the largest at two hundred. While four groups had been lost, accounting for around 400 survivors, another four groups still had to move soon.

Once everything was relocated, they'd mostly be holed up in the mining warehouses, spread across six locations with about two hundred people each. Hector’s group still made the Deium Refinery the largest of the six, but now it wasn’t so different.

Other than the dormitory, the refinery had two more buildings that could technically be considered one- connected by a skywalk. The larger of the two was called the Relic Refinery, whereas the second was the actual Deium Refinery.

The former apparently focused on the production of something called Reliquary, which was then fed to the latter to make actual Deium Oil. After that, Amus himself usually brought the oil produced to the power station down the way where Brightshade’s group resided.

Surrounding the chain link fence was an astronomical amount of grey corpses. Guardsmen escorted small groups around the fence, protecting them from the fog as they moved the bodies off to the other side of the road. Watch towers stood in the corners of the compound, guardsmen standing there with lever-action rifles in hand.

Inside the compound were many makeshift tents and a long, sewn together tarp that covered much of the sky between the boardhouse and the Reliquary Refinery, It did little to help with the fog as the guardsmen slept beneath it, their bodies passively resisting the fog with their blood energy as they slept.

“We’d let them sleep in the boardhouse but they’re the only ones who can resist the fog while they sleep. We don’t have enough space inside for everyone.” One of the injured Wayfinders, Cassandra, spoke up as they approached the makeshift gate. Two figures slowly opened it up for their group, each wearing a golden insignia on their chest.

Sergeants? No wonder they could keep this many alive. Most of the guards likely made their way here during the tide, for what reason Silas wasn’t sure. It could be to keep the city’s infrastructure up, it could simply be for the safety that the Wayfinders provided.

He could tell the trust with Amus was thin but the two Sergeants didn’t seem too wary of himself. Was the Dawnseeker a path that conflicted with Empyreans? He turned to the silent Amus and once again cursed his lack of identification technique.

How hard could it be? If all the Wayfinders could do it, as could the Mayor, was it as simple as energy manipulation? If every Empyrean had to sense world energy before opening the first gate, was it limited to world energy?

Closing his eyes, Silas suddenly stopped in place before the gate. His mind focused on the specks of fear energy floating through the air between him and their sources. Using them as anchors, he tried to slowly extend his perception from them to the energies in the world around them.

Just like when he became an Empyrean, his mind fought him every step of the way. The human mind was not designed to extend its perception, its awareness, in such a way. It’s why the Gates could only passively refine world energy, otherwise requiring external resources to speed things up.

Fear energy was drawn in by the Nightmare Seed as it endlessly spun, forming a thin connection with each speck of light. Without that connection, he wouldn’t be able to perceive it let alone extend his mind out like this.

Slowly, his perception spread out from one of the closest anchors and gradually felt the ambient world energy in the air. Unknowingly, the fog slowly churned in place around him as he sensed the energy. Impure. Chaotic. Silas knit his brows together. This energy was different from what was found in the villa.

In the Villa, the energy was varied but pure. It contained dozens if not myriad types of energy but they all synchronised with each other to make a balance. This world energy felt wrong. Skewed. Something in it wasn’t present at the Villa. Tainted.

Exhausted, he pulled his mind back and opened his eyes to see that everyone had stood still around him. Amus looked at him with a dark like while Hector contained mostly surprise, even the two Sergeants appeared strange. Only the Chimekeeper said anything. “Did you just do something?”

With a shrug, Silas nodded and explained what he did briefly. It wasn’t too much of a secret, everyone else could do it, no?

“You mean no one taught you?”

“Not really.”

“So you just experimented with the Empyrean Pathways sense of energy and your Nightweavers?”

“Is that a problem..?”

This time, one of the two Sergeants responded with a hint of confusion in his voice, though he looked at Silas with a spark of admiration as well. “After the First Gate, Empyreans can no longer sense world energy like that. Their own blood energy overwhelms their perception of the world. It only changes later on.”

“Mages can sense world energy, but only the parts that make up their core. It’s often hand sigils or spells that direct the world energy for them. That too changes later on, but still.” Hector explained. “But none can stretch their perception like that.”

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“I can.” Cassandra opened her eyes, looking at Silas with yet another odd look that made him feel like a freak. The fog churned lightly around her, barely noticeable. “I can do that with my soul energy as well, but I can’t project it as far.”

“Soul? So it’s a method unique to the Soul Source?”

“Seems so.”

Cassandra kept looking at Silas and eventually the Nightweaver caved, sick of the strange stare and his own curiosity at the why. “Do you have something to say?”

“Did you feel it too?”

“The weird stuff in the energy? Yes.”

She took out a Bloodstone and held it tight in her palm, closing her eyes again. In cycles the fog would begin to churn, accompanied by a sense of being watched, and then settle down. After the fourth cycle, she opened her eyes again with a grim look. “It’s the same impurities in the Bloodstones.”

“Found in the mutants? Is that what did this to these people?”

“Likely.”

Silence fell on the group for a few moments as they finally entered the gate, pensive looks on their faces. Everyone was thinking, but Silas was confident he was thinking about something else. Finally, he spoke up. “Ok but, how do you all sense aura, then?”

“Our eyes?”

“I’ve put energy in my eyes before, didn't work.”

“What about your spirit? Or rather, your mind?”

“They’re the same thing?”

Hector looked genuinely distraught at the blatant lack of information Silas had, an apologetic look in his eyes that made it clear the man believed Silas should be long dead. Luck was a power of its own though.

A surge of blood energy filled his eyes, his pupils filling with a dark, crimson hue against the backdrop of differing blue eyes. Promptly, he then focused his ‘spirit’ into his eyes as well. Thin translucent flames appeared in his vision. Small balls of white light that rested in people’s chest at varied sizes. Each flame appeared to be burning around different colours.

Amus’ flame burned around a red core stained with flecks of gold. Hector’s was almost entirely blue, with strange spots of copper green. The Sergeants also had deep red cores, Cassandra had a pure silver core, her flame burning particularly violently. The other Wayfinder’s core was crimson.

Depending on the intensity of the aura flame, the stronger one was. Amus’ blatantly beat out everyone else, even the two Sergeants. Everyone else was roughly the same level, equivalent to seven or so gates.

When either the energy stopped or the focus stopped, his vision returned to normal. It required both to work. The ease at which this issue of his was fixed was rather frustrating, but the idea of mind being the spirit was intriguing to Silas.

His spirit was different from the soul? Did magic focus on the spirit then? How did they interact? He practically followed the group along on auto-pilot as they entered the compound with a low mood.

Amus broke off while he wasn’t paying attention and went off god knows where. One of the Sergeants from the gate had led people inside to get them situated while the other was leading the Wayfinders to their own ‘quarters’.

Small makeshift ‘rooms’ had been built against the wall of the Refineries. While called rooms, they only had three walls and a ceiling, no front wall or doorway. The brick back wall of the refinery and scrap wood, stone or brick and long pieces of hardwood as the top. The rooms were barely ten by ten feet with some cots or beds.

Each of them were assigned one of these rooms to stay in and customise as they wish. Reserved for Wayfinders or Sergeants, they were an attempt at keeping the strongest combatants comfortable.

Silas ignored the strange look when he asked the Sergeant if he could tell the sleeping guardsmen that he’d be helping them sleep. It took quite a bit of convincing, mostly explaining that his power grew faster off of dreams. Only then, combined with the normalised weirdness of Wayfinders, did the Sergeant go around and let the guards know.

He did let Silas know that those who didn’t consent to it would simply put a big X next to their cot and that he couldn’t mess with them at all, but Silad didn’t expect many people to refuse. Even just walking in here, many of the guardsmen were visibly tired. Deep bags beneath their eyes, lethargic movements and empty gazes.

Silas was lucky and most survivors were too. Many who were hit by the initial Darktide either turned or simply passed out as it washed over them. Even more of those who passed out simply died, while the rare few people who remained awake had to fight for their sleeping families or companions.

The guardsmen with their blood energy absolutely remained awake and absolutely saw the carnage that followed. Claws tearing people apart, bodies twisting into shapes imagined by only the cruellest of gods, family killing family in either a savage hunger or a fearful desire for life.

Whilst the streets were now empty save for the occasional bloodstains, Silas saw it on the first day. Bodies strewn across the cobblestone, carriages overturned, horses gutted and ripped to shreds. His mind had blocked it out back then with the Nightmare Seed’s help, focused on saving the kids.

Many only had their own minds to rely on. Minds that couldn’t forget the bloodbath. If Silas could help them while simultaneously getting stronger, he’d do it every time. Even now, passively drawing in the fear energy, he could see a lot of people moving with just a little bit more pep to their step.

This place wasn’t defenceless like the villa, the people weren’t spread out, it wasn’t just desperate civilians. He wasn’t alone. These people were strong. Determined. He’d do the best he could to make sure these hundreds of lives weren’t snuffed out. It pained him thinking of the families hiding away in those villas, most of which were likely dead by now.

Silas sat down on his cot and took off his glasses, taking out a small bottle of water and a cloth from his coat pocket. Slowly, he sprayed a few drops of water on the lenses and gently cleaned them with the cloth. He took off his overcoat, folding it up neatly and placing it on the floor next to him. Then, he folded up his father’s glasses and placed them on top.

Lying down on the cot, he stared at the ceiling with an empty gaze. Everything he just thought about was true, yes. These people needed help, yes. His brother, however, was his only responsibility. Nothing else mattered than that.

He just hoped he’d still be someone his brother was proud of at the end.