Chapter 103 - Interrogation

Tucking in the collar of his trench coat, Vern sauntered down the Foundry Lane in the Iron-heart district. Soot and snow mixed in the air, blowing to and fro along the heavy gusts of the wind.

Multiple lattices of slender wrought-iron beams stood tall and resolute, forming triangular frameworks that ascended skyward. These graceful girders intertwined like intricate lacework, creating a mesmerizing pattern that cradled the railway tracks above.

However, these tracks internal to the district were broken down and tattered in many places. Some had obvious signs of melting, while others were…slashed through by weapons?

Not wanting to get too distracted, Vern focused back on his destination. Fire flared from his right, but both men walked on, unfazed.

This was the only running forge in the whole street that was supposed to be full of them. I guess the demand for weapons hasn't gone up enough. Or maybe there are just not enough skilled forgers left.

This reminded him of Duality for a second. Before leaving the Vigil, he'd debated whether he should grab it or not. The answer was evident.

Even though he'd learned a couple of stances, he was nowhere near proficient enough to bring it along with him on missions. The way things were right now, he'd be too tired simply carrying the damn thing for half an hour.

They crossed a couple more forges, a vacant tavern, and arrived at the residential block of the Foundry Lane. About thirty houses lined each side of the street, culminating in a dead-end about two hundred meters from their current position.

Since Cedric hadn't given him much in the name of information, Vern decided to do things his way.

Retrieving the King's Insignia, he curved towards the first house of the street and wrapped on the door. He raised his arm to display it at the peephole but, unexpectedly, found it stuffed with cloth instead of glass.

Knock Knock!

"Special Investigation Unit, open up!" he shouted in a deep voice.

He'd already confirmed with Cedric, who was walking right behind him—all his attention on the book—if doing this was okay. The man had nodded with a shrug.

After just a second, the door slowly creaked open, and a gaunt man stared back at him, heavy dark circles under his eyes. He was wrapped in a bundle of clothes, and not just him, but also the two other men who were sitting right behind him.

Vern narrowed his eyes. Why were they sitting at the door? The place had enough space for all of them.

The gaunt man spoke hesitantly, "Have you…have you…come to save us, milord?" One of the other two men turned his gaze towards Vern, hopeful, while the last one's lips curled in disdain.

Before Vern could respond, the second one exclaimed, "Please, lordship. You must do something."

"Yes, milord, please! We haven't caught a wink of sleep in two days! It is after us, milord. If we nod off, it’ll snatch our souls. Please, you must help!"

"Lordship, it took my Siri, it did. Please, you have to save her! I'm beggin' you, sir, save her," implored the second, suddenly rising and seizing Vern's hands.

"Heh, you expect the shameless crown to help us? What fools—"

"Shut up Yami! They're here to save us—"

Vern's temple creased at this unexpected reaction. However, this wasn't the time to let them blabber on unintelligibly. He had to strike the perfect balance of Stability and Instability, even in his interactions.

So he took a deep breath, and a stern look crossed his eyes. The man holding his hands flinched back instantly, and the bickering stopped. Vern then responded in a tone of authority, "Calm down, and tell me exactly what is going on here from the start."

Right when all three men opened their mouths to start rambling again, Vern interjected, "One by one."

The last one harrumphed and looked to the side while the obsequious one's gaze shifted towards the gaunt man, who gulped nervously before speaking, "Beg pardon, milord, but there’s a nefarious spirit in the mirrors of this street."

Vern masked his thoughts on the matter, and the man continued, his hands flailing for emphasis, "I’m telling you the truth, milord. I saw it with me own two eyes. Wasn’t only me, sir. It comes out from the mirror, and each time you dare to blink, it lurks ever closer. Ask them if me word ain’t enough, milord."

"Upon me life, I ain't lying. You gotta believe me. It halts when yer looking at it—almost mocking ye for noticing it. But the moment yer gaze falters, it rushes you, pulling you back. Believe me, milord. I…I ain’t wrong in the head."

Not letting the man devolve into unstable thoughts, Vern cut in, gripping the man’s shoulders, "Don't worry, I believe you. I need you to calm down and tell me how it began."

"Y—yes, milord. 'Twas the day before yesterday. I just got back from smithin at the forge over yonder, and I put on some food for eatin' before bed. But then, when I entered me hall…"

The man visibly shuddered as he glanced at the dark corridor behind him, "Somethin'…somethin' was gazin back at me from me late wife's mirror." He shook his head vigorously, "I swear on her grave, I've never ran away so fast. Blessed be the Eternal Keeper, that cursed thing didn't chase me out the house."

He then pointed at the second man, whose eyes were earnestly fixed on Vern, "I legged it straight to Jesec's. Thought his place, with him and his missus, would be safer than mine."

"But no, milord. He didn't open the door. He couldn't open the door. Not until I broke it."

The man named Jesec joined in with a quivering voice, "Lordship, it preys on you when your guard is down. Siri... she just glanced away for a split second. That was all it took. I turned to flee, but Siri was closer to it, right in its path."

"It snatched her, milord, in the blink of an eye."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"If you lose sight of it, even for a moment, that's when it strikes. You can't escape, can't hide. Once it marks you, you're its prey."

Vern gave another heavy nod, "Is that why all of you are sitting by the door?"

The first two nodded while the third one continued to grumble to himself. The gaunt one added, "It still comes sometimes…right beyond that wall. So we run out whenever that happens."

"We even broke all the mirrors, milord, but it keeps coming back. We…we don't know what to do. We will die like this, milord."

Vern quipped back almost instantly, "Why not just wait outside?"

"Milord, it's…cold."

Vern winced internally. That was a dumb question. There was actually a blizzard last night. But he tried to save it, "I mean, why wait for it to come and get you? There are so many empty houses in the city where you could go until this is resolved, right?"

A guilty look overtook the gaunt one’s face, and the other one didn't speak either. Vern cleared his throat and bore down on them until the third one finally chuckled, "We all knew, that's why. The crown has given up on this district. The only one that can save us is the eternal keeper. Not the dogs of the crown. We have already lost our families. You want us to give up on our houses, too? Hah!"

Vern didn't care much about the venom in the man's words as it was rightfully directed towards the crown. Still, he looked back at Cedric to see if the man had any response to this. But as usual, there was nothing.

So Vern replied, "Well, we are from Vigil of Duskfall, so not exactly the crown, but I see your point."

He sighed internally. Iron-heart district used to be one of the most prosperous ones in the city. But the huge chemical explosions had blown away a big chunk of it, and the crown had yet to initiate any expeditions to re-integrate this district.

It made sense that the citizens of the district had given up.

So, Vern turned to the other two and spoke in his most assuring voice, "However, don't worry. Now that we're here, it should be solved in no time. We are trained to handle situations just like this." Well, at least one of them was.

Soon after, he continued the previous line of questioning, "Are there other people living in this block?"

"Yes, milord."

"Then why don't all of you just sit together in one place? Easier to catch sleep that way, no?"

"We…tried, milord. But when all of us gathered in one house, the cold seeped into our very bones. Even with all these clothes, it only got worse the longer we stayed together."

He squinted. What the hell was going on?

"I see. Anyways, when you say ‘it,' what exactly do you mean?"

"I... I don't really know, Milord. Never seen it properly, not in the light. It's always just shadows, vague and formless, lurking in the mirror."

"Lordship, the lights dim, and the world shakes when it appears, making it beyond impossible to keep yer sights on it at all times."

The third one interjected, "I told you all, it's a curse. We've fallen from grace. That is why this is happening to us. We should be praying, not pinning our hopes on fools like these!"

Vern ignored the rambling man and replied solemnly, "Okay, give us a minute."

Walking back to Cedric, he relayed the information in a concise manner, painting a clear picture of the whole situation.

Cedric nodded with an unchanging expression and pulled out a pen from somewhere. Vern looked on in puzzlement as the man wrote in the empty margin of the book: 'The mirror shadow is in this neighborhood.'

Vern waited, his eyes focused on the elegant handwriting. What is supposed to happen? But soon, Cedric's eye glowed a reddish-brown, and his pupils rippled, almost as if pages were flitting within them.

When the lake of his eyes calmed down, the words he’d written on the margin twisted and turned before settling into, 'The mirror shadow is in the first house.'

Shifting his hat, he said, "It's in there now. Let's finish this." Vern stared at the man in disbelief. Did he really just forcefully relocate the entity?

But his next words broke Vern's train of thought, "Talk to them so they don't try to bother me when I go inside," he said in a low voice, tipping his chin towards the three men.

Vern wanted to shake his head, but he was too much in awe right now to care about the man's eccentricities. He turned towards the three men and spoke gravely, "I need all three of you to step out for a while. We would like to conduct a cleansing."

He then pointed at Cedric, "Also, don't disturb the commander. He's chanting a very important mantra right now. Breaking his concentration could very well spell our doom."

Everyone's face turned pale, and the gaunt one asked, "Is it…is it in there right now?"

Vern nodded, and all three of them scurried out of the house at a breakneck speed—even the skeptical one, donning their gloves and boots outside.

Cedric took his time, waiting for everyone to clear a path, so Vern assumed the lead. He believed his actions had been quite balancing in terms of stability and instability, but he had felt nothing at all from within his perception.

He didn't expect every little thing to give him feedback, but then how was he to know if this was the right way to go about acclimating the perception to his Vision.

Gotta keep trying, I guess.

But the moment he set foot inside the door, a chill washed over him, and his mind sobered up in an instant. Something is indeed wrong. He could feel it.

He wondered if he should let Cedric take the charge. He wasn’t an expert in dealing with situations like this. That experience atop the tower was terrifying enough for him.

But he steeled himself and took another step, entering the house proper. Hiding behind Cedric in this situation wasn't the right balance. If something were to go wrong, there was enough time for Cedric to jump in.

Vern pushed his trench coat aside and lit the lamp latched to his waist hook. Purple light spilled around him, illuminating a narrow corridor that led to the kitchen, a small bathroom to the right, a hall to the left, and a staircase with very narrow steps leading down into the dark.

Ssss

He only moved a couple of steps in when he heard something from deep inside the house. His heart began racing, and he didn't take any random chances, unveiling his perception from the get-go.

A world of grays depicting the simple stability of the environment overlaid his Vision as he ventured deeper into the house.

He considered his surroundings with great detail—that unnerving smell, the rough texture of the walls, the cracked pieces of glass littered all over the floor. All of it supplemented his perception, causing the more chaotic grays to settle down into stable shades.

The windows were smashed up from the outside, evident from the spread of glass chunks on the floor. Ragtag clothes blocked the wind, barely enough to keep the interior from freezing over.

Ting

Sounds continued to emanate from the far end of the house, and his perception that had yet to observe the interior of the kitchen first-hand was unable to extrapolate the details.

But that wasn't his destination. The man had told him the culprit mirror was in the hall. So he steadied his breathing and heightened his vigilance.

With measured steps, Vern walked in, looking back at Cedric, who was slowly walking around the group of men in a wide arc toward the entrance.

So he continued. The balance had yet to tip in favor of instability. He couldn't back out just yet.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Soon, he was in the hall. In the center of the room was a table set for four laden with rotten food. The room's only other piece of furniture, a dressing table, was positioned in the far corner. Its mirror was facing at an angle from Vern, completely unharmed.

Why couldn't they shatter this one?

He turned towards it, pointing the light straight at the reflective surface.

Nothing out of the norm.

But he furrowed his brows. He could feel it. The colors of stability around him were fluctuating rapidly, especially in the shards of glass.

He surveyed the room further. Discarded toys, dirty clothes, blood stains. But then, abruptly, a chill slithered up his spine, prompting him to whirl around, his heart pounding.

An ominous darkness began to seep into the bottom left corner of the mirror.

It was a subtle shift, almost imperceptible to the eye, yet his senses screamed at the unnatural alteration in the mirror’s stability.

Skitttter

Vern remained on the move, sensing a ripple of instability unfurling behind him, and in the moment he took to glance back, the eerie patch of instability on the undamaged mirror exploded into a circle of darkness.

When Vern found nothing behind him, he snapped his eyes back to the mirror, and a cold shiver raced down his spine.

Fingers materialized out of the reflection, oozing a transparent, viscous liquid that pooled on the floor. They clutched at the edge of the dressing table, still and silent.