Shel Darint rose with giddy steps from the root access system, stepping out into the 8th Doene District of Kaden City. To Shel's eyes, the beauty of this morning was beyond compare. The Shroud was lighter , the streets were clean and laid with brick, and he could the chirping of birds could be heard of the clattering of rusty pipes. All was amplified by how special this day was.
Shel rode the tube from the 10th Syfone District to get here, and was surprised at the difference two rankings made. Where his district was full of gray Mage Forged homes, the eighth was ripe with red brick and hearty brown wood. The only color that existed in his quarter came from rusted pipes. Here, even the roads were laid with brick, and the pipes were well kept.
On this day, everything he did had a bit more shine to it. The world felt fresh. Because today, Shel was starting his first job. A job he'd been dreaming of, a job he'd been aiming at for half his life.
Shel reached down toward his left breast pocket where a golden pin was fixed. The pin was a pentagon, with an image of the Stalwart tree at it's center. The Crest of the Apostles. The symbol that signified that he'd been called upon to serve highest of the high. Those who had been blessed by the Gods themselves to care for the Prophet's people. He puffed a hot breath onto the sigil, wiping off the condensation in an effort to shine the immaculate pin. He couldn't help himself, he was proud to wear it. To wear the pin was to know that your job was vital to the Noveriat.
The only problem was, Shel had no idea what his job was.
After he'd been accepted as an Overseer of the Apostles, The golden pin had been delivered to him with orders to come later. Shel, his betrothed, and his family had celebrated his acceptance that night. The hard part was done, now they waited to see where he'd been posted. But it was weeks before his assignment came. When it finally did, it came in the form of a letter, sealed with the Apostles Crest. The letter was sparse. Just an order to be at the 8th district at a certain time, directions to a specific location, and an order not to tell anyone. This had only made Shel more excited, of course. An assignment like this was what he'd hoped for. He knew the Families did difficult work, requiring talented and intelligent people to help in those tasks. Shel hoped to be one of those people, one of the trusted Overseers that served close at the hands of the blessed, not some tube attendant or lift operator.
Of course, didn't care about praise or recognition, he just wanted to be of service, to be useful.
Which was why Shel strode with such confidence on foreign streets. The path of his life was coming into focus.
It was still very early in the summer morning, so he was able to hear the clacking of his new black work boots on the road. Shel nodded cheerfully to those he passed. Most of them wore standard gray and brown pants and shirts similar to his won. But, growing closer to his destination, the dress of those he passed gained a bit more style and polish. Men in pressed suits and pants, women in dresses with modest lace at the hems. He was entering the Merchants quarter of the district, and as with the people, the buildings started to change as well. The apartments were of mostly brick and white stone exteriors, all hand laid from what he could see.
Shel turned the final corner, staring down the smooth brick road, where a shadowy horse and carriage waited. Three people loitered beside it. A row of beautiful red brick apartments stood to his right, to the left was a large park stretching the whole block. The bight green of the well kept lawn still mostly overshadowed by the morning's Shroud.
Shel arrived at the carriage, eyeing the three Overseers, two men and a woman. They wore a black garb made from a single piece of slick, shiny material. He approached the group, the woman moved to meet him, her stern face making him hesitate. She had auburn hair and looked to be about ten years his senior.
"Are you Shel?" She asked.
"Yes, Ma'am." Shel replied, confident. He straightened his shoulders, standing tall.
"You're late Shel." She said flatly, shoving one of the black suits into his gut. "Put this one, quick."
Shel let out a surprised 'oof' as the dark cloth hit his gut. He tried to reply, but the woman turned her back on him, moving to join her companions. They gave him impatient looks as the embers of their cigerettes glowed through the Shroud.
The young Overseer looked down at the cloth in his hand, his fingers sliding across its unnaturally smooth surface. He flipped it over, feeling the buttons across it's back where the suit opened. Bending over, he put his legs into the suit, then his arms. That done, the stern woman from before returned and began buttoning the back.
"You've been assigned as a new member of the 14th Erasure Crew." She began.
Shel felt his fingers slide neatly into the gloved hands as the woman pulled the suit tight.
"I'm Karson." She continued, "And that's Lovitt and Feen." She pointed at the two men. Their stone faces, sleep deprived eyes, and unshaven beards dampening Shel's mood.
"Erasure Crews..." Karson said, buttoning the top button and coming around to face him. "Are an important part of enforcing the Prophet's Fifth Tenet."
"Fifth Tenet..." Shel whispered, confused.
"Yes..." She continued. "The Dowsers, like Keen over there," The woman pointed to the carriage. "Identify those who carry the Rot," Shel couldn't see anyone by the coach, but didn't have much time to look. "their partners, The Enforcers, 'Enforce' the Prophets final wish, and we, 'The Erasers', come in and clean up the mess before anyone's the wiser."
Karson moved to the back of the cart and pulled out three lengths of the same dark cloth they were wearing.
She handed them to her partners. "Just three today." She muttered, gesturing them toward the apartment.
"Now. Since it is your first day, we're not gonna have you on bag duty." She assured him, reaching into the back of the carriage again. "But you are going to be scrubbing." She held out a large bucket filled to the brim with brown wash cloths, and a white box with some sort of powder in it.
"Come on." She said. Making her way toward the front stoop of the apartment her colleagues had entered.
"Wait..." Shel muttered. Erasure Crew? Scrub duty? He knew about Enforcers... but, Erasure Crews? And now he was expected to be in one?
"Waiting is a luxury for the early." She said, gesturing from the top of the stairs for him to follow.
He climbed the marbled stoop, unsure what to think. He tried to conjure up images in his head of what he might see, but had no point of comparison. He'd never imagined he'd be in a situation even close to this one. As he crested the top stair, Karson opened the door. A deep sense of foreboding wormed into his bones.
The smell of sulfur and rot hit his nostrils. Dredd struck through his spine like lightning. He paused, Karson leaving him behind as she made her way inside. Eventually she noticed his absence. She turned, meeting his eyes. "This is it."
The words were a challenge. An indictment of all he had striven for. Whether he liked it or not, this was it. He was an Overseer of the Apostles. He had accepted that job knowing that he could be called upon to do almost anything. The look on Karson's face spoke volumes.
"This is it." She repeated. "Are you committed?"
Shel ground his teeth, clinching his fists. The material between his fingers squished with the pressure of it. He pushed through the doorway, the dread of earlier still close at hand.
He made light steps through the well adorned home, fear marking every corner. He followed Karson into the Living area. The space was filled with beautifully crafted chairs, tables, and a stunning wooden desk in the corner. Everything was hand crafted, the colors playing well with the aqua green walls. He had never seen such wealth. Usually, he might admire it, but he was staring a hole through the back of Karson's shoulders, following where she led.
They entered a dark hall, their boots echoed toward an open door. Muffled laughter came from inside, it was not a joyous thing. The dread stiffened his legs, every step an effort. The shadows were closing in, he slouched to avoid their touch. Karson stopped in front of the door.
"Stop laughing you dolts." She said, obstructing his view. "This is serious work."
"Oh come on, Kars." A man pleaded.
"No buts." She chided, stepping to aside, giving Shel a full view of the room.
The two men were kneeling in their black suits, unfurling the dark tarp on the floor.
They're bags... Shel realized.
Next to those bags were three black shapes huddled together in the center of the room. Behind that was a bed with lavender sheets and a white comforter at one end. The walls were painted a similar lavender color. Sprayed across those walls and several windows was a dark red liquid... blood.
Shel's eyes opened wide as his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing. Blood all over the walls. The long bags... those dark shapes. He looked closer at those shapes. Three charred bodies, all huddled... no not huddled, holding each other... A black charred ring on the floor beneath, like a small sun had appeared in their midst. Shel looked closer, two of them had their arms wrapped around one that was more slender in the center. Each one charred with cracked crimson lines where blood had broken through and leaking like molten lava.
This was a family... Two parents... holding their daughter in the final moments.
The smell finally hit him. Sulfur, death, burned and rotting flesh... It overwhelmed him, sparking a reaction in all five senses. He dropped the bucket and the box. He felt dizzy, his vision blurred. He reached out his hand, grabbing the door frame to steady himself.
"He's gonna spew." One of the men said. "I told you he was gonna spew."
"They all spew, Feen." The other shot back.
Nausea bubbled up in Shel's throat at the rush of sensation and noxious emotion. He turned around, sprinting out the door and down the hall. His breath came in ragged gasps. He almost tripped down the stoop. He coughed violently as he rasped air into his lungs. He made it out, running around the carriage to a low wooden fence separating the park from the street. Hands gripping the railing, he 'spewed'. Chunks of bread and last nights stew found their way into the bright green lawn. He sucked in air like he'd been drowning.
He spewed again.
After a few more minutes of coughing expending heavy effort to fill his lungs, he began to calm down. His blood pressure falling, breath coming easier. The thoughts of what he'd witnessed still swirled in his mind.
What was that?
But he knew what it was.
How could they do that kind of thing?
But he knew that too.
Is this what my life is now?
It seemed so gruesome. Something like this happening in Kaden City.
This happens every day?
The thoughts swirled through his mind, he felt himself spiraling.
A voice rumbled through the chaos.
"First day?" The voice came in low tones beside him.
Surprised, Shel looked to his right. He hadn't expected anyone to be here. But there was someone. A tall man with short cropped black hair, tan skin, and a sharp clean shaven face sat on the fence looking at him. Shel tried to meet his eyes, but couldn't. They burned with a terrifying intensity.
Who is this guy?
The man wore a pressed black suite with a white shirt and black tie, his black pointed boots were well shined. He was certainly well kept.
Smoking that worn brown pipe as he did, he cut quite a figure against the Shroud.
"Sin must be cleansed or ruin will follow. Just a splinter of Corruption leads men to dust." The man sighed.
"What?" Shel replied, trying to digest the oddity of his man quoting scripture to him after he'd almost spewed on his shoes.
"Here." The man said, holding out his pipe. "It helps with the smell."
Shel took the pipe, staring at it.
He knows about the smell?
Wondering that brought the stench back into his nose, reminding him of its wretched source. He shoved the pipe in his mouth before the next thought, taking an unhealthy pull of the dark smoke. He coughed violently as the harsh tobacco entered his lungs.
The older man chuckled at his pain. But Shel couldn't argue, as the smell was nullified by the taste of the leaf. He handed the pipe back to the man. Coughing to the point of tears. He was ashamed that he'd put his mouth on the thing right after throwing up. The man didn't seem to care, just taking another puff and staring back out into the Shrouded park.
"It's a terrible thing, the Fifth... Hard thing to see." The man started. "No man should ever have to stand in a room like that. See those types of things." He looked at Shell with sympathy. "But, someone has to... No way around it..."
"I..." The young man started. A thousand thoughts he'd never had before, flooding through his mind. "I... I guess I never thought it would be this." Shel said, finding his bearings.
"Are you a Kadenite?" The man asked, still not looking at him.
The young man nodded.
"Well then..." He continued, gesturing with his pipe, "This should be easy for you. 'Sin must be cleansed or ruin will follow.' the Prophet's words are very clear."
"I know... I just... I never expected to see--" Shel paused, nausea coming back with the smell of charred flesh, and that dark huddled mass. "It's so awful." The boy commented. "Does it have to be this way?"
The older man grimaced, taking another long puff before responding.
"This way, that way..." He grumbled. "Killing is never clean, son. It just needs doing."
"But how..." Shel asked, trying to find the right way to phrase his question. "What could they have done... What sin could a person commit that's worthy of taking their whole family?"
"Does it matter?" The cut in, voice cold. Shel looked over to see that intensity was burning hot. Under this man's heavy gaze he felt more a boy than the man he fancied himself this morning.
"Shouldn't it?" The boy eeked out, a hint of pleading in this voice.
The man frowned again, annoyed.
"No." He said, after a long puff.
Shel opened his mouth to respond, but no words would come. He didn't really know what to say.
"The rot is real, son..." The man said, passion in his eyes. "I've seen it... and I've seen it work in ways that would split your soul to imagine."
Shel did not want to imagine. What he'd seen was enough.
"I don't know that every death is just or deserved. I don't know if every life was mired in sin and rotten to the root." The man slowed, like he was etching the words in stone. "But I do know that we live in the most peaceful, and prosperous society in history. A society designed by a Prophet blessed with divine providence. A society upheld by his chosen Apostles, and watched over by Gods." The man's voice rumbled with deep throated passion. "And if dark deeds must be done beneath the Shroud for society to persist...Then I will do these things, and have faith that they are just." He paused again, gazing into Shel's soul. "That is my job as an Overseer."
A silence settled over the two men as they stared out into that Shroud. Shel could hear his breath, slow and steady through his chest. The man's words had calmed him. He felt like he'd been centered. Shel had been spiraling because his idea of what the Noveriat was had been had been upended. But this man, this statuesque Dowser, had corrected him. Showing him that things had not changed forever, they'd always been this way. Only his perspective had shifted. Faith was the key. Faith would get him through this. With Faith, he could see the world for what it was, not what he wished it to be.
He smiled at the thought. He looked down at his feet. He'd spewed all over them. Luckily, the shiny black suit he was wearing had kept the muck from getting to his actual shoes. Look at that. He thought. Finally seeing the reason for this odd garb.
Once I'm done here I'll just step out of this thing and be clean as creek water... He hoped it would be true.
"Come on Shel." A low female voice called from behind them. "We don't have time for you to find your sea legs."
He took a deep breath, steeling himself to reenter the blasted house.
He looked to the statuesque Dowser, still staring out into the last vestiges of the fog.
Walking over to the man, he tapped him on the shoulder. Shakily, he said "Thank you for the smoke... and the words. I'm Shel Darint." He thrust his hand out in front of the smoking mans face, inviting him to shake it. "You're... Keen. Right?" The young Overseer asked.
The older man gave a smile that was almost warm. He took the hand. "Call me Kint..." He said, "Only these lot call me Keen."
Shel smiled back. Just that small bit of humanity from this stalwart man made him feel better somehow.
"It's was nice to meet you Kint. Maybe I'll see you around." Shel commented.
"You will." Was all the man said, returning to his pipe.
Shel turned back and began walking toward the house where the other Erasure team members were still working. But before he could make it past the dark carriage, that low voice called from behind him.
"Shel." Kint said, looking toward the young man with those dark eyes. "This work will stain you... let faith be your shield. Let the word of the Prophet's be your Shepherd, and you will be free of sin."
The young Overseer could feel that the words were meant to give him heart, to stiffen his back. But the gray undertones made his mood gray as well.
He was an Overseer now, and he would do his job no matter what color he was feeling. He nodded his thanks to the older man, and made his way back inside.
Karson led Shel back toward the bedroom, explaining his new job. Apparently the box he'd carried was full of Lime powder and the bucket was meant to be filled with water. reentering the room, it was difficult for Shel to keep from spewing. Determined, he just kept his thoughts toward the future, toward that moment when he'd take off the blasted suit and be clean again.
He held that thought tight as he began his work. Starting on the walls, tossing powder onto bloody spots, then dipping his rags in the water and scrubbing the darkness away. His new boss didn't say much as he worked, but she didn't stand around either. After confirming her rookie was doing the job right, she grabbed a handful of powder and a cloth of her own and set to scrubbing.
With the two Overseer's on the task, the work went quickly. By the time they were done with the walls, Lovitt and Feen had managed to disentangle the bodies, hauling them out in those black tar bags.
Next they went to work on the floor, and things became especially grueling. Shel struggled to remove the charred ring on the smooth stone, growing frustrated.
"Don't waste you time." Karson commented, noticing his efforts. "The Restoration Crews will do a deep clean. For now, just make sure we get the skin."
The Skin? Kint questioned. Finally allowing himself to truly see what was inside the charred circle. He spewed again. Using the bucket this time.
Returning with a fresh one, Karson explained that this was the hardest task they had. There was no quick way to scrape burned flesh from a stone floor. She let him scrub for a bit longer before revealing that peeling away the remains with your fingers was best, if you could stomach it.
Shel could not stomach it.
They went through three more buckets of water before they were done. Shel having spewing in two of them. They left the room smelling of Lime, but mostly clean save for a faded ring of darkness on the floor.
Placing their tools in the back of the carriage, Shel got to experience the moment he'd been thinking about since his conversation with the Dowser. His suit was covered in ash, blood, and powdered Lime. He needed Karson's help to remove it. Kicking the black mass away once she'd peeled it off. Backing away from the foul covering, Shel took some space to himself. stepping back from the carriage, he closed his eyes to take stock.
He didn't feel any cleaner, the sensation of peeling adhered skin from charred floors still fresh on his fingertips. But he did feel lighter. Like the suit itself had grown heavy with the dark deeds they had done. By removing it, those deeds were stripped away. Or at least... Shel hoped that was the case.
Before he could think on it too hard, a gentle hand landed on his shoulder.
"Come on." Karson said, gesturing to the two open seats at the head of the carriage. "Let's take this back to the Overwatch."
Shel's brow wrinkled. "What's the Overwatch?" He asked.
Karson gave her first smile. "You'll see."
A nice smile.
Shel lifted himself into the seat next to his boss. Any smile was nice to see after such a horrific day, but Karson's... it made him feel a little less bleak.
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Kaden City was starting to wake, as Karson guided their coach toward the nearest Riverway. A nondescript boat met them at the waters edge to carry them upriver. After an hour they entered the central Districts of The Shade. They stopped in a boisterous district, full of people still partying in under the Shades endless dark. Neither of them spoke, as they moved down the main thuroughfare, throngs drunks and dancers crowding their path. Karson turned them onto a side street and things began to settle down, the Overseer moving by twists and turns to their destination.
After 20 minutes of silent travel they made one final turn. Clopping down dark alleyway toward a dead end. Closer and closer they approached, not slowing. Shel was about to say something, when a large part of the wall began to slide away, opening up into a massive space within.
"Here we are." Karson grinned, enjoying his bafflement. The sliding door dropped down behind them as they entered.
Shel was in aw. The space was enormous. It must have been a mile long and five stories high. They rode into a large parking area for carriages of all sorts. Farther beyond, Shel saw that there was an entrance from a Riverway that led into a docking area for those nondescript ferry boats they'd rode earlier.
Karson turned them into a space marked with the number 14, a young man about Shel's age moving up to take the reins.
A massive stone wall extend in front of them, all the way across and up to the ceiling of the warehouse structure. Vast tapestries of relief sculptures depicting the lives and duties of Overseers spread the whole mile across it in glorious detail. In the center of the structure, he could see a huge golden pentagon with the Stalwart tree in its center. Below it, every 50 yards across the length of the wall, were dark wooden doors with the name 'Overwatch' etched into them.
The two Overseer's moved down a long walkway toward one of the doors. They passed large playing fields, sparring circles, and even a full sized running track. Men and women in athletic uniforms fought and played at every station.
Shel was blown away, "What is this place?" He muttered.
Karson gave him a secretive smile. It was like some kind of sporting club in the middle of The Shade. He'd never heard of anything like it.
"There's more inside." She said, as she opened one of the wooden double doors.
They entered into a large lamplit sitting area. Several Overseers sat smoking, reading, enjoying a cup of coffee, or all three. On the other side of the room was a long receptionists area, with hundreds of keys hanging below numbers on the back wall. A well pressed receptionist stood in front with an Overseer's Sigil on his breast.
"Good morning Ms. Welst, I trust your work was not too draining today?" The graying man asked. He had a sharp High District accent.
"Nothing too bad." Karson smiled.
Shel frowned, remembering their work.
"I was just breaking in our Rookie, Shel." She commented, gesturing to him.
"Ahhh, Mr. Darint. Congratulations on your acceptance into The Order. It's good to have you on board." The kindly man intoned.
Shel tried to must up a smile and some words of thanks, but it was half-hearted at best.
"Will you be staying with us going forward?" The Overseer asked.
"He'll be staying in the District's Heret." Karson cut in, "Mr. Darint here is getting married soon." Shel's face soured further at the mention of his engagement. He hadn't thought about Heela all day. He didn't know what to think really.
"What a wonderful thing." The Receptionist cooed. There was a hint of sadness in his voice that unsettled Shel.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
"I'm going to show the Rookie up to The Hall." Karson said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to a large circular platform. Overseer Heret nodded, waving them on.
Another well pressed Overseer was stationed in the center of the platform, beside a pole with a Kinetic crystal at its top.
"The Hall." Karson stated, as they entered. The Overseer nodded, placed his hand on the Chrystal. A moment later the Vine was pulling up into darkness.
They passed through two floors on their way, a mess hall where Overseer's were breaking their fasts, and a smoke filled game room, where men and women with tired eyes played card and bar games alike. Rising into The Hall, the yellow luminescence of crystal chandeliers washed over them. Before Shel's eyes could adjust, the overseer placed his hand on the glass enclosure, causing the barrier to slide away.
The raucous sounds of drink and dance washed over them, followed by the savory smell of tobacco smoke. Karson pulled Shel out the door before he could think, dragging him into a cacophony of movement and laughter.
Laid out in front of them was an enormous Drinking hall that extended a few hundred yards in front of them. To the left and right it was such a distance that Shel's vision grew hazy before he could see the end of it. Around them were hundreds of sturdy wooden tables and chairs, some long and others circular. The high ceilinged hall seemed to be only half full, but far more occupied than he would have expected at this hour. Those men and women who were present were certainly energetic.
Karson led Shel through the maze of furniture, over to a small round table next to a thinck wooden pillar. The pillar made the table feel secluded in the crowded room. Lovitt and Feen were already seated opposite them.
"Hello boys." Karson said, sitting across from them. She gestured for Shel to do the same. "How many deep are we?"
The two men shared a smile.
"Welp, we've only ordered one." Lovitt started, "But, you see, we ordered a round for the crew... and you weren't here... so it ended up being two ."
"That means they got here five minutes ago." Karson joked.
"Three!" Feen joked, drawing laughs around the table.
After the crew calmed down, Lovitt said, "Don't worry though, Shiela's on her way with another."
"Shiela?" Karson questioned, with a knowing look.
"She get's off in an hour..." Lovitt winked.
"I'm sure she does." Another round of laughter.
Shel didn't laugh, however. He couldn't even smiled. He was so put off by this place, the atmosphere, the people he was with. It all seemed so disconnected from what they had been doing not an hour ago.
"What about you rookie?" Lovitt asked, forcing Shel to surface from his reverie. "Ya got love in your life?"
"I-- " He tried to respond but Karson cut in.
"He's engaged." She said, in mysterious tone. The three Overseer's shared a look. Before Shel could ask what it was about, a buxom dark haired waitress arrived with a tray of four glass pints.
"allo, Karry." The young woman greeted, placing a glass in front of each of them. "You doin' ok? keepin' these louts in orda?" She knocked a large hip into Lovitt's shoulder as she spoke.
"Who? These two?" Karson chirped. "They're no trouble at all, you know that." The two women sharing a knowing smile.
"Oh, I'm ok. Thank you." Shel said, as she tried to give him a glass.
"Just leave it in front of the lad, and we'll take care of it, sweetheart." Lovitt chimed in, waving away her confusion.
"I'm sure you will." She replied, placing the pint down in front of him and moving on to another table.
"Alright Gents." Karson said without preamble, raising her glass. The other two did the same. The three Overseer's clinked their glasses together over the center of the table, drinking deep of the amber liquid. With a few seconds of hearty gulps, their glasses were half empty. Karson reached into her pocket, pulling out a silver cigarette tin. She open it, placing it on the table. Each Overseer plucked a cigarette of their own, Karson pulling out two and offering one to Shel.
"No." He hesitated, "I don't smoke."
The three Overseer's shared another look.
"He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke." Lovitt muttered.
"He's got a Fiance." Feen added.
"Are you sure he's an Overseer, Karry?" Lovitt finished. Raising an eyebrow at their redhead.
"Just cause he doesn't live in the shadows like you two, doesn't mean he's any less an Overseer." She chided, placing a comforting hand on Shel's shoulder. "Besides, I seem to remember you had a wife when I first met you, Feen." Karson poked.
The sickly man leaned back a little at the jab. "Hey I didn't say nothin'." He muttered, throwing his hands in the air. "What did I say?"
"Well..." Shel broke in, still unsure of what to make of the odd tenor of the conversation. "I did have a bit of a smoke this morning."
He watched a slow smile crawl across Lovitt's face. The man wagged a knowing finger in Shel's direction.
"Ahhh... So there's hope for you yet." The man joked, taking another swig from the tall glass.
"See." Feen muttered again, "What did I say? I knew he was alright."
"It wasn't too bad." Shel continued, trying to keep the positivity going. "That Dowser, Kint, gave me a few puffs. He seems like an upright guy."
At the mention of the Dowser's name, the mood soured.
"Keen..." Lovitt started, mild disgust plain on his face. "The blessed one."
"The holiest." Feen muttered, bile on his lips.
"I don't understand." Shel questioned. "Do we not like him?"
"No, it's not that." Karson placated, "It's just, it's hard to like someone you only see on your worst days."
"Oh... I see." Shel replied. "So, he doesn't come here then?"
"Nope." Karson shook her head. "Nobody knows where he lives or what he does on the outside." She said.
"His partner comes in sometimes." Lovitt quipped, "Isn't that right Boss?"
"True enough." She replied, a little color entering her cheeks.
"So..." Shel started, hesitant. "Is he always there?" He asked. "Like, are we assigned to him... or something."
"No, not always." She said, "He's just the only one who hangs around. We don't know who any of the others are."
"He's also the most... proficient." Lovitt added, "From what we hear."
Shel grimaced at the word 'proficient'. "And... is it always like that?" He pressed, unable to keep his mind off the topic. "... families?"
He looked around the table to find that everyone staring into their glasses. Only Karson could respond, she did not look up, however.
"Always families..." She replied. "But we never know them. And we're not allowed to talk about it, so we never will."
"Can't really tell anyway..." Lovitt added, "Charred up like that." He took another drink.
"And... the children...?" Shel flinched at his own words.
Silence sank in, it felt like the whole hall went quiet.
"Teenagers." Karson finally spoke. "Between twelve and Seventeen we think. The boys are always older."
"Prophet help us." Feen whispered.
"Twelve and seventeen..." Shel repeated, the image of charred bodies poisoning his mind.
So much potential... So much life to live.
Shel saw it all in his mind. The life she could have had. The people she would meet, the memories she could have made...Love... happiness...
Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed the glass from the table, taking down several gulps. He couldn't even taste the liquid, it went down so fast. He didn't much care. He just needed to stem the swell of hopelessness.
He took a deep breath, laying the Pint back on the table with both hands. Empty.
"Anybody up for another." The rookie Overseer asked, looking into the pensive eyes of his colleagues.
"I guess you are one of us." Lovitt said, sadness marking his smile.
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Shel returned home in the early hours the next day. Karson helped him to the door.
Saying a slurred goodbye, Shel moved inside. He made his way down the hallway, leaning against his bedroom door as he opened it. He stumbled through as it swung wide.
Regaining his balance, he stripped down, taking off his pants, and removing his coat and tie. He struggled undoing buttons on his shirt. He didn't feel any lighter, like when he'd removed his Erasers suit... he just felt numb.
It wasn't the worst thing he could feel.
Dressed down to his undergarments, Shel looked at his bed, swaying. There was a woman curled up on it. His fiancé. Her blonde hair glistened, delicate features caressed by the moons glow. She was beautiful. Peaceful. He had been here many times... gazing at her as she slept. He would smile, thinking of how lucky he was to have such a woman.
For some reason... This time... he felt sad.
The feeling followed him, crawling into bed. The cold sheets irritated his skin. He curled into the heavy blankets, turning away from his fiance. Screwing his eyes shut, willing sleep to come as quickly as possible.
He heard a rustle on the other side of the bed.
"How was your first day." She whispered, half asleep.
"Fine." Shel replied, cringing in pain as the lie left his lips. The first one he'd ever told her.
"Did you get the job you wanted?" She asked, still curled up on her side of the bed.
"I..." He started, he shouldn't lie... But... "I can't tell you that."
"Hmm." She cooed. He could hear the smile in her voice.
It ripped his heart out. Such a lovely, sonorous sound. She knew what kind of job he had wanted. The kind of job you couldn't talk about. But this was... different... this was wrong.
The sheets rustled as she rolled up against his back. "
I'm so proud of you." She whispered, enfolding him in her arms. Her fingers pressed against his chest, pushing her love into his body directly. But all he could feel was cold. He saw charred bodies, embracing each other before the end... The smell... the sulfurous smell... She held him tighter.
Shel flinched.
He slept poorly that night, and every night after.
Black ashen bodies in a pink room... How could he sleep again?
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Three days passed before Shel received another missive with new directions. He'd hoped time might heal his wounds, but they festered instead. Each day that passed was more taxing than the last. He'd paced the house incessantly, imagining the horrors he might see next, dreading another mission, yet begging for it to come. Hoping maybe the reality of the next job could distract him from his nightmares.
Heela had left him alone through that time. She could tell something was wrong. She never asked, though. She knew his work was secret.
Shel could see that his mood was hurting her. That his anxiety was causing her anxiety. She was frustrated, not knowing how to help him.
Shel was eager to leave the house when that missive finally came. He could feel Heela's eyes on his back as he walked to the Tube. He did not know how to deal with her. How to talk to her. They'd been in love since they were kids, and yet... things felt different.
The Tube door slid shut with a thunk. The coach was silent. The world seemed far away. As the Tube moved across the seven stops to his destination, he felt a pressure release from his shoulders. For the next hour, his life was bliss.
Eventually his stop came. He exited the Root system, rising up into the blue gray sky, and the dread returned.
He'd hoped to run into Overseer Kint again as he approached the job site. He had so many new questions. He needed direction if he was going to survive this job. But no such luck. Just a black carriage sitting in the center of the Shrouded street between rows of Forged apartment buildings.
The other crew members were waiting. Feen tossed him something as he arrived. He caught it, examining it. He was on bag duty...
It was best to experience it early, Karson said. Get it out of the way.
"I'll give you a hint. It's always rotten." Lovitt joked.
It was a family of five.
It was messy. The bodies strewn across three rooms. Blood coated the small apartment.
"I guess bodies is the easy job today." Feen commented.
It wasn't. There were no easy jobs today.
It took well over an hour to peel the corpses off the floor. They fell apart as Shel tried to move them to the bag. Karson placed a bucket beside him to catch his spew.
He considered sleeping at the Overwatch that night. It pained him, but he dreaded Heela's touch. He was ashamed. She would not know what now she held in those innocent arms. He could not tell her.
At Karson's urging, he did go home. He laid down with his fiance, and, at her insistence, he tried to love her... But he couldn't. The bodies of today were still fresh in his mind. She held him that night, whispering "It's okay." Soothing him to sleep. It only heightened his shame.
As he lay there, eyes wide open, afraid to blink, he could not escape the cold he felt in Heela's arms.
That feeling remained with him through the next day, refusing to be burned away by the sun. It created a barrier between him and his betrothed. One that only grew as he did more jobs, as he saw more...
She knew something was wrong. She knew he was hurting, she knew he was in pain.
The morning after the third job, Shel looked upon his betrothed and could tell she'd made a decision. From that day, in between missives, Heela took him places. To restaurants, parks, to see his friends from school, his family. In every instance he felt that icy wall of distance between him and the people he once knew.
He could see what she was doing. Trying to bring them closer. Trying to break down the barrier. To warm him up with the love of family and friends.
He treid to make it work. He went on the dates, met with is friends, hugged his mom. He tried it all because he loved them. But there was a distance between them now. A gap that he was beginning to doubt he could ever close.
It was Kint the Dowser who kept him going, kept him trying. Every time they worked the same job, the two would sit and chat. These conversations heartened Shel, strengthened his resolve. It wasn't the words that gave him strength however, it was Overseer's indomitable disposition. The Dowser never slumped, he never slouched, he never faltered. He was stalwart in his faith. The living embodiment of the five Tenet's. He walked away from the most gruesome scenes, unaffected by the carnage. While they didn't meet often, the sight the dowser always gave Shel the energy to go back and try again with Heela.
But, inevitably, over month passed where he did not see the Dowser. He did not get his jolt of energy. He was not reminded of a better way. The memory of hope the Dowser represented, faded from his mind. Shel tried, and tried again to be what he had been before... But, Faith was not enough for Shel. Much as he tried, he always had doubts. He just could not shake the feeling that what he was doing, what he was forced to be part of, was wrong. It put a stain on his heart. It made him cold. That coldness followed him. The shame. He was tainted by it. After four months as an Overseer, Shel stopped indulging Heela's activities. He left the house less and less between jobs, and when he did leave, he went to the Overwatch.
The Overwatch was the only place he felt comfortable. His crew mates were there. He could actually talk to them... they understood his troubles. They were like him. Even the other Overseer's who weren't on Erasers were easier to talk to. Most of them had secret jobs, forcing them to live at the Overwatch. They did things they were not proud.
There were no difficult conversations at the Overwatch because who would want to do that? There was just drink and dancing and music and fun.
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Karson brought him a gift one day, sitting at their secluded table. It wasn't his naming day, she'd just slid a box to him across the table.
"What is it?" He'd asked, wiping the ale from his lips.
"Cigarette Tin." She'd said, watching him rip the paper, revealing a bronze tin within. "Thought you might want to buy some of your own smokes, for a change."
Shel smiled. He'd been smoking a lot since joining the 14th. Heela didn't like it. But, it was part of the job. So he just tried not to do it around her.
But after a four months on the job, he found himself trying less and less in their relationship. Heela just couldn't understand who he was now. She hadn't seen what he'd seen. She didn't know the truth. She was naïve. If Shel was being honest, her presence irritated him. She was too clean...
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"What is that?" Heela asked, removing dishes from the dinner table.
Shel let out a puff of smoke. "Cigarette tin." He responded. He knew she didn't like when he smoked inside.
He took another puff.
They hadn't fought over it yet. The blessed woman gave him so much credit. He wondered if her empathy would ever run out.
"I know what it is." She said, hurt. "Why do you have it?"
"For my cigarettes." He knew what she was really asking. But he chose to push it.
She bit her lip in frustration, giving Shel the reaction he'd been looking for.
"You know what I mean." She sighed, "Where did you get it?"
"Can't tell you that." Shel replied, curt. He was enjoying the frustration evident on her face.
"You can't tell me about a cigarette tin?"
Shel shook his head, no.
"Really?" She folded her arms, glaring at him.
The Overseer squinted his eyes in suspicion. This was the first time she'd questioned him.
Was this it? Was this where things would come to a head?
"I can't tell you anything, woman." He replied, a hint of frustration coming through.
"Nothing?" She asked, a bit more heat in her voice. "There's nothing you can tell me? Not about the people you work with, or the cigarette tin, or why you come home so late, stinking of booze?"
"That's right, Heela, and you know that!" He spat. "You think I don't want to tell you things? I'd love to share this with you, but I can't!"
That's a lie.
He'd resolved from the first never to tell Heela about what he did for the Noveriat. He didn't want to stain her too.
"You can tell me how you feel!" She shot back, pleading in her voice.
Shel's lip twitched, his true emotions bubbled to the surface. His disappointment in himself for not being strong enough to bare this burden, his frustrations at being the reason for the breakdown in their relationship, his need to keep his secrets from her... to protect her from his shame... All of this surfaced and then was iced over with apathy.
This whole thing had gone on too long. It needed to end.
"I feel..." He hissed, through grinding teeth. "...annoyed."
"Annoyed?" She questioned, confused. "About what?"
"You, Heela... you annoy me." He spat. "You're constant need for connection, your need to 'make me better', to 'help' me. God's it's soooo... annoying."
"That's not..." She started, voice dropping to a whisper. "But I...I love Shel."
"You don't know what you love." Shel exploded, "God's! You're like a rash. Just constant irritation all the time." Shel felt a pang of guilt as he saw the hurt on Heela's face, but he was too far in.
"'You just need to get back out there, Shel.'" He said, imitating her voice. "Well, I've been 'out there', Heela, I've been farther than you've ever imagined. I've seen the edge, the underbelly... So when you ask me if I want to go to dinner with Aker and Tava, that's not "getting out there'. That's coming back!" Shel had stood, moving closer to Heela, getting right in her face. "And there is no coming back, Heela" He whispered. "We're worlds apart now... and living in this one..." His voice cracked with emotion. "Is fucking killing me... You... are killing me."
Silence stretched. The two partners stood, facing each other, Heela digesting his words. Her face had grown stoic about half way into his speech. After a minute of contemplation she nodded.
"So, what do you want, Shel?" She asked, emotionless. "Do you want me to go?"
A part of his mind was screamed, NO!
"Fucking finally." He said, the momentum leaving his voice. "If you want to help... That's the best thing you can do." He whispered.
He looked up at his Heela, the woman he'd grown up with, who'd known him the better part of his life. They'd planned a future together. But now, he could see in her tear streaked eyes, she was letting go of that dream.
As she left, Shel told himself that this was for the best. That she was the reason he felt so bad. The light of her innocence making amplifying his shame.
The better part of him knew, he was pushing away his only chance of salvation.
He did not stop her. He told himself that it was better for him to carry the shame, than for her to carry him.
----------------------------------------
"Heela left me." Shel said, smoking a cigarette with Karson before their next job.
"Oh." She whispered, stern face softening. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." He replied, taking another drag. "She just couldn't understand. She's was too naive... too bright." He trailed off.
"Right." Karson nodded, solemn. She understood completely.
"It's for the best really." He lied. "For both of us."
Karson nodded again. Looking at her, he felt she was hearing all he could not say. She understood what he couldn't admit, and accepted it.
"I've got your first round tonight." She said, dropping her cigarette to the cobble stones, putting it out with her foot. Shel did the same.
It was just a Mother and son that day. Shel was on sponge duty just like his first day. There was no Wise overseer to help him through his current troubles like before. There hadn't been for a long time. But he hadn't needed to spew either. He was at home in his life now. With Heela gone, his life was empty, hollow, but at least it was just his. The Job was all he had. He took pride in his work, just like the Dowser had urged him to do. But it was a sick pride. The kind that makes you hate everyone else for not knowing what you go through for them.
Shel was beginning to understand why the other Erasure crew members didn't like Keen. Something must be truly fucked up with a man who could be so steady in a sea of blood. A man who could step out of those waters and into the real world, clean. Now that Shel had failed at living in both worlds, he began to resent Kint for doing it with such ease. There must be something wrong with him. Shel mused, as he scrubbed crimson blood from powder blue walls.
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That night, after many drinks. Karson took Shel's hand, pulling him gently to her room at the Overwatch. They laid together, and to Shel's surprise, for the first time in half a year, he felt like a man. Not a person, but a man at least.
And so, Shel's relationship with Karson began. Spending the nights in the bliss of drink, and each others embrace. Their connection was shallow, but necessary. Like a salve to the shame that lived in his heart. The shame was not gone. The man he had once been still existed in his mind, watching him, judging him. But, the pleasure of sex and ale was a numbing agent for his conscience, a shade to block out the light of innocence.
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By the end of his first year, he was comfortably numb. He and Karson were living together, out of efficiency more than anything. They had a dark room at the Overwatch where they spent most of their time. Away from the eyes of purer souls. Away from the light.
One day, as the two approached their newest job. Shel noticed a disheveled looking man, sitting on a bench outside a row of grown wooden houses. The man was slumped over, staring at the gravel between his feet, he held a worn pipe in his hands.
Shel looked to his partner, saying "I'll see you in a minute." Before moving over to join the older man on the bench.
He took a moment to appreciate the sight of the Dowser. It had been several months since the two had been on the same job. In that time, much seemed to have changed for 'Kint the Keen'. Long gone was the stalwart Overseer of times past. In its place was a grimy man, an unkempt mess. Rumpled coat and shirt, loose tie, messy hair, and scruff on his chin only a few days from a beard. The man was hardly blinking, a red rim circled the Dowsers eyes. A broken man.
Shel didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to feel either. The numbness was there, as it always was. But there were parts of Shel that thought he might feel something. In the year since he'd gotten this job, Shel had felt many strong emotions for this man. First there had been idolization, hero worship. Then the Dowser came to represent hope as his life was falling apart. After that, and really up until this very moment, Shel had felt a simmering irritation, bordering on hatred, for this man. To be seemingly unaffected by the darkness, when it had gone so far in corrupting Shel. It irked him that someone could do such awful things and remain clean.
Seeing the incorruptable man brought low like this... Shel had imagined it would feel like a victory. But all he could feel was... uncomfortable.
"So... What's new, Kint?" Was all he could think to say as anxiety poured over him.
What's new with you? Shel chastised himself the moment the words left his mouth. What kind of question is that?You don't even know how to console someone anymore?
It had been a long time since he'd had to do this kind of thing. To have empathy for another person.
Luckily, it seemed that Kint hadn't noticed his question, or at least, he'd ignored it.
"Is... Is everythi--" He stopped himself, "Are you okay?" Shel finished, facing the hunched over Dowser. This time, Keen did seem to take in the words.
Kint's head turned from the gravel earth below, their eyes locked.
Those eyes. Wide with despair, pleading for answers. The young man stepped back at the sight of them. One of his cheeks was twitching. His face fluttered between emotions, not settling on a single one.
"I--" The broken man started. "You... you were right Shel." He said, pausing and looking out into the Shroud. Distracted by something far away.
"Right about what?" Shel asked, trying to bring the man back to reality. "What was I right about Kint?"
The man turned back to him, mouth settling on a smile, eyes devoid of hope.
"The Noveriet, the Apostles, the Prophet... It's all the same..." An intense sadness shrouded the dowsers face, before Despair reclaimed its place. "We are sheep..." He started. "The prophet is dead, and we are sheep..." He checked over his shoulder for spies, then leaned close, whispering "The wolves are tending the herd."
Those words... those words and that face, they unsettled Shel to a startling degree. This amount of suffering, this amount of guilt, made him very uncomfortable. It made Shel think about things he did not want to think about. The young Overseer struggled to respond to the Dowsers words. He could barely look at the man. So he did the only thing he could think of. He laid a hand on the Dowser's shoulder.
"Let's go to the Overwatch after this, eh? I'll buy your first round." He said, before hurrying toward the open door to their next job.
Shel thought he would feel better once he entered the Grown wood home. But, those eyes, he couldn't shake the despair in those eyes. His step quickened as he moved deeper into the home.
His discomfort only grew as he journeyed down the dark hallway, exiting into a small living area. It had a lived in quality to it and a sense of familiarity that he couldn't place. There was a warmth that had existed here, a joy, like memories from another time. His hackles went up as that familiarity overtook him, he should not be feeling these things on the job. His stomach churned like it was his first job all over. He examined the room. There was a wood stove in the far corner, faced by two comfortable leather chairs, one far more broken in than the other. He felt something warping in his mind as the memories of another man pushed themselves forward.
His crew mates crouched in front of the two leather chairs, like ravens on a ledge. Below them, a cinder of soul was being enclosed in black tarp. Shel heard a crackling sound, like crushing paint chips, as the dark clad figures moved the mass of flaking flesh into a the bag. He took stock, still at the entrance to the room, he could feel a realization rolling towards him like a distant storm. Karson and Feen raised the black capsule on their shoulders as they moved past him. A shudder ripped through Shel's spine, his hair stood on end as he saw a lock of jet black hair spilling from one end of the bag. That was enough, he was now firmly rooted in this forsaken place, this blighted memory of another man.
"Thanks for the help." Feen scolded, as he shouldered past.
"Shut up, Feen." Karson chided, "Lovitt, Shel. Check the other rooms for the Rot. It's gotta be around here somewhere."
"Right." Lovitt nodded from his perch by the chairs.
Shel did not respond, he knew this scene too well. Instead of doing as he was told, the young overseer strode toward the stains of blood and ash on the sitting room floor. There would only be one body on this job. A single sacrifice to the circling wolves. He knelt down, laying tender fingers on the scorched remains of a heinous act. One he'd lived a thousand times.
A thousand times he'd seen her bleed and burn, his knife in her chest. Her eyes, knowing and accepting her fate.
Kint could live in this dream no longer. He had experienced this day so many times. Running over it endlessly in his nightmares. It had snapped him back to himself. Seeing this... His moment of disintegration. The day his world shattered. How could he not remember it.
He knew every instance of this moment, beat by beat. He went through them one by one. He couldn't help it. He needed to be punished for this grievous sin.
He'd stabbed her here, standing by the furnace. He knelt down, touching the dried blood on the floor. She bled out here, that pitying look on her face. In shame, he'd thrown his knife over there.
Kint looked to an empty space next to the furnace and frowned. Where was the knife?
A door opened behind him, and fear lance through his chest. Where was the knife?
"What the fuck?" Lovitt exclaimed, surprised.
Kint stood, snapping his head toward the Overseer. He stood by her doorway, a black shadow darkening bedroom wall.
"No..." Kint muttered, his blood electrified with mounting desperation. His feet gripped the floor as he closed the gap, pushing the dark figure aside. He burst into the room with a dreadful momentum, freezing so quickly that his skin shifted with the inertia of it. His eyes drank in the familiar room, memory shuddering against the unfamiliar scene. His pulse beat like a drum through his ears, teeth grinding, mind racing to catch up with what his vision was telling him.
"What is this?" Kint said, pulse pounding in his ears. He was confounded by the sight.
"I don't know..." Lovitt replied, concerned. "I've never seen this before."
"This isn't right." Kint said, with a careful step forward.
"Yeah..." Lovitt replied, "Looks like they forgot to cook it."
Kint ground his teeth, rage flooding his veins. "No. This isn't right." Kint spat, "This didn't happen."
The seasoned Overseer looked at Kint, confused. "I'm lookin' right at it, Shel..." Lovitt said, concern lacing his voice. "They just... forgot to burn her..."
'Her'... Kint shuddered at the word. He turned slowly, looking down at the bed, at the figure laying peacefully atop it. Finally, what his eyes were seeing and what his mind could comprehend met and it was like getting hit by the Tube.
"No..." He convulsed, falling to one knee over the pale body. "This isn't real." He whispered, eyes refusing to blink. The pale skin, that jet black face, freckled cheeks... the Stalwart Knife planted in her chest... His knife. "This didn't happen." He said, voice shaking.
He reached out and toucher her arm. Icy cold lanced through his hand.
"Nessa." He pleaded, "God's, Nessa!" He reached out with his other hand, grabbing his daughters lifeless body by the arms, shaking her. "Nessa wake up. Prophet above! Nessa wake up!"
"Boss!" He heard Lovitt yell. "Get in here! Shel's cracked!"
"Oh Prophet!" Kint moaned in pain, as he reached down, embracing his daughter. Cold despair ripped through him as his cheek touched her frozen flesh. He gripped her tighter. A clutter of boots stomped on the floor behind him. Tears flooded his eyes. He felt a dull pain against his chest as the handle of his bloody knife pressed into him. "What have I done!" He hugged her tighter.
A set of strong hands grabbed Kint by the shoulders, trying to pull him away, but he would not let go. Another set latched onto his daughters body, trying to pull her from him.
"Nooo!" He shouted, "I can't lose her! Not her too!"
"Snap out of it Shel!" Karson yelled, as she ripped the lifeless little girl from his arms.
Kint and Lovitt stumbled back as he lost his grip.
"I didn't do this!" Kint screamed in desperation. Feen added his hands to help pull him away.
"We know." Lovitt grunted, wrenching him toward the door.
Kint watched as Karson set his daughter down in a sitting position on the bed, her back against the wall, knife protruding from her chest. The overseer stood, turning her back on the body as she moved to help her crew mates. As soon as Karson turned her back, Kint's eyes widened in horror, as his daughters lifeless eyes opened, revealing dark crimson pools of evil beneath. A familiar rictus smile split the little girls lips.
"You!" Kint spat, rage flooding his heart, heat pounding in his veins. He redoubled his efforts, pushing against the binding hands of the Erasure Crew. Clawing himself forward against the strength of the two men. "Get out of her!" Kint roared, spit flying from his lips.
Karson moved in and began pushing against his chest as the other two pulled him toward the door.
"God's Shel." She grunted, "What's wrong with you!"
"Get out of my daughter!" He screamed, his throat raw. "Get out of my head!"
Kint felt one of his feet slip as he tried to pull himself toward the laughing demon who wore his daughters face. The crew shoved him against the hallway wall, Lovitt and Feen pinning him to it. The laughter followed him out of the room, taunting him, fueling his bestial anger.
"Get out of my head!" Kint shouted, as the dark wooden door slammed in his face.
He shot upward, sitting straight in his bed, breath coming ragged through his chest as those taunting red eyes faded from his vision. He put a hand to his chest, feeling the thumping anger slow within him. His hand slid against his skin as he was covered in sweat.
"Another dream..." He murmured, seeing the stale gray light of morning through his window.
Another terrible dream... He thought. What is that thing?
He could not understand it... But he was beginning to think he had to confront it, whatever it was.
"Papa...?" Came a hesitant voice from the doorway.
Kint looked up sharply to see his daughter standing there, face full of worry, cheeks flush with life.
"Nessa!" He said, relief flooding his voice. "Come here girl." he beckoned, pulling her into a hug.
"You're sweaty Papa." Nessa noted, although she did not shy away.
"I... I had an crazy dream." Kint responded.
"Was it a scary dream?" She asked, pulling away to look at him.
"Yes." He said in a solemn tone, choosing to be honest with her.
"Were there monsters in you dream?" She asked, her tone oddly serious.
"Yes." Kint replied, "Yes, there were."
"Did you fight the monsters, Papa?" She asked, eyes glowing with stern curiosity.
"No." He said, "Not this time." Confused as to where this was going.
"Would you?" She said. As he gave her a crossways glance. "Would you fight the monsters Papa... For me?"
The image of her with sharp crimson eyes overlaid his vision, just as they had the night before. But this time, he did not hesitate. His lips curled into an earnest smile.
This girl. This sweet, beautiful girl... He thought. She's giving me a second chance.
"For you, Nessa..." Kint spoke, staring into those dark innocent eyes. "I'd fight the whole world." He pulled her into another embrace.
As he held her, a serious look stormed across his face, the shadow of impending choices darkening his gaze.