Harian sat at the bedside in the tavern where they took Auria after she collapsed. The moment Iarvahr and Suranihr caught up with them, Auria went limp in the soldier's arms. They took her to the closest place that offered rooms for rent - a tavern called Seamen's rest - and laid her down into a comfortable bed. Iarvahr and Suranihr had promised to visit them as soon as they got all the wounded and injured from the ships and gave them the proper care they needed, and Harian did not expect them for at least another five hours.

“I wonder what you’re dreaming of, Auria. I hope it’s something pleasant, although from your stern face, I really doubt that.”

He took her soft, small hand into his own. “I know that you can’t hear me, medic, but I won’t leave your side. Something draws me to you, to protect you. No, I did not fall in love. I feel like it’s my… duty. I feel like I’m finally doing something that would help me atone for my crimes.”

He chuckled. The idea of talking loudly to a sleeping woman and holding her hand suddenly came to him as childish, but he still did not let go. “Sleep well, Auria. Something tells me that you will need all the rest you can get.”

***

“Your mind has proven itself strong, as expected.” The presence in front of Auria was sitting in a large cushioned chair, holding a glass clear liquid with ice cubes in left hand, and a smoking stick made of paper in the other hand. The presence wore strange clothes - a padded jacket that reminded her of the armor worn by Citadel guards, yet this one was made of smooth, reflective material. Still, although reflective, the dark blue material seemed to absorb light instead of reflecting it. His plain gray pants ended up tucked into tall, thick black boots with four buckles on each.

“Please, sit down.” Said the presence with a calm, warm voice and before she could respond, she found herself sitting in the same chair as the presence did, holding the same glass and the same lit…

…a cigarette… an unknown word appeared in her mind. Auria inhaled from the cigarette and coughed. It tasted much worse than her own herbal mixture.

“Who are you?”

“Who I am is not a good question. Who I was, now that would be much better to ask. Let me introduce myself.” Presence stood up, and for a few seconds, its faces stopped shifting and a handsome man with deep, blue eyes gleaming with intellect stared at her. “I am the Creator.”

Auria bowed her head politely. “A creator of what?” she asked.

“Of the things you know as projectors. But, wait with the questions. I did not come here to answer all that you wish to know. I came to make a proposition.”

Auria realized that behind the intellect in the Creator’s eyes, something was hiding - ruthlessness, ferocity and cunning.

“Speak.”

“I will give you an answer to three questions, whatever they may be. I will answer truthfully and without holding anything back. As a payment for my… services, you will feed us.”

“Feed you, as in…”

“As in you will devour the life of someone. A person, the younger the better.”

Shivers ran down her spine. “Why?”

“Is that one of the three questions?” the Creator chuckled.

“I did not accept anything, and I will surely not kill somebody just for the sake of three answers from… you.” she spat the last word with so much contempt that the Creator’s body tensed.

“Let me explain something to you, my dear poor medic. You will devour someone, willing or not. It’s not up to you. The projector will slowly but surely drain you if you do not feed it - and through it, us. Your mind, however strong, will fail you. You will lose control. You will become a mindless thing, a shell without soul, with only a hunger-filled emptiness inside. I’m giving you a choice.”

“A choice of whom to kill. Fantastic.” She sipped out of clear liquid. It tasted of plums and apricots.

He shook his head. “A choice to keep your mind intact, and to better understand what kind of instrument came into your possession. The one before you? Lakar was his name?” The Creator’s face shifted, and a young historian stood in front of her. “I did not get that choice, Auria, and I tried to kill you without any control of my own actions. Would you bestow such risk upon your closest?”

Auria sat silently for a full fifteen minutes, pondering. Finally, she shook her head. “No. I have no reason to trust you, and I will not kill in your name.”

The Creator laughed. “As you wish, medic. I can’t force you. Not yet. I have all the time in the world. One of the benefits of being dead.”

***

“You’re finally awake.” her father’s voice sounded much older than she remembered. It was full of pain when it used to be mirthful and cheerful, and it was… raspier, as if his larynx was damaged. There was a way of finding out, but she did not dare to touch the projector with her mind again. She sat on the bed, groaning. “Hello, father.”

Iarvahr hugged her tightly. “I’ve missed you, Auria.” Without hesitation, she returned the gesture.

“How have you been?” He asked her. She laughed. How do you answer such a question after years without any contact?

Stolen novel; please report.

“The usual. Blood, pus and rot.”

“And metal.” Iarvahr nodded towards the arm. “You’ve got yourself a projector. How?”

“I’ve… killed a man that tried to kill me with it. Wait…” She stared into his stern face. “How do you know what it’s called?”

“We found them. Three of them. But they remain dormant.” Instead of her father, Suranihr answered.

“Where?” She asked, puzzled. “On the sea?”

“Something like that.” Iarvahr nodded. “How did you activate it?”

“I didn’t. It was already active when it… attached itself to me.” Auria was more and more uncomfortable with this line of questions. Her head was spinning, the pain in her head suddenly returned as strong as if it never left. She was thankful when Harian took the word.

“A man that I’ve escorted found it in an archive. It came from the underground. He inserted a strange blue prism into it, and activated it. Then - by an accident - it attached itself to him. It killed him in a short time.

“Killed him? How?” Iarvahr asked quickly.

“What’s with the questioning?” Auria snarled at him, irritated. “I haven’t seen you in years, and this is what you do? Interrogate me, as if I’m some criminal?”

“She’s right. Let her breathe. Stand back.” Harian stood at her side, looking defiantly at two other men in the room.

“Who are you to command me?” Iarvahr looked at him, fury in his eyes, blood dripping from his voice. This is not my father. Auria thought. “Father, calm down!” She shouted, as she saw Iarvahr’s hand moving towards an axe at his side.

“Stand down. I won’t say it again.” Harian’s voice was cold and sharp as a freshly sharpened blade.

“Or you do what, fight me? Fists against an axe?”

“Stand down, Iarvahr. That’s an order.”

“We’re not on your ship anymore, Suranihr. Auria, talk before I cut your plaything to pieces. Everything you know about that thing.”

Suranihr’s voice was strong, stoic and hot as a bellowing furnace. “I am still your commanding officer, commander Iarvahr. Stand down, or face trial. I’ve had enough bullshit for a lifetime in the past few weeks.”

Her heart pounded. Her father, the man she loved from the first moment she laid her eyes upon him… The most gentle soul she ever met, the calm, always reasonable Iarvahr Yhrsa… Acting like a madman. An insane, obsessed person. “Why?” She asked him, pain seething from the word.

His movements became erratic. He started pacing, his hands shaking, his lips trembling, the words coming from him quick and confused. “I need to save her. I need to bring her back. Leonie… I killed her, you know? She begged me to do it. And now, she blames me. She wails of anguish, she cries from all the torment…”

“The dead speak to you too?” Auria straightened. A pulse of pain made her face wince. She tried to find the herb filled pouch and stock up her pipe, but she could barely feel her hands. Harian realized what she was doing, and without questions, he pushed enough of the herbal mixture into the pipe and lit it for her.

Instead of Iarvahr, Suranihr answered. “He’s confused. He has acted strangely ever since we found those metal arms inside of that hell hole.”

“What hole?” Auria asked after the first, blissful breath of sweet herb smoke.

Iarvahr sat on the ground - more collapsing than sitting down - and put his head into hands. He mumbled incoherently.

“We have… encountered something. Some things…” Suranihr started their story.

***

After Suranihr finished talking of what happened over the course of past days, - from the moment they met Shrieks until now, - Auria felt better. The pain became bearable, and she stood up from the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat down in front of her father. “Did she really speak to you?”

Iarvahr nodded slowly, his head still hidden behind his palms.

“What did she say?”

He took a deep breath. “That if I wield the projector, I can bring her back.”

“It’s… not worth it. The few times I have used it, it almost killed me. Now, I worry that if I try to use it again, I will lose my mind, and it will… overpower me.” She shifted her gaze towards Harian. “Unless I kill someone with it.”

“What?”

“I can… drain life with it. Empower the projector with the life force of something - or someone - else. Somehow. I’m not really sure about this, and please, don’t ask me how I know about the draining.”

Harian nodded slowly, his brows furrowed. “Maybe you should try and read the journal that Triarch gave you.”

“I think you’re right.”

Suranihr coughed. “I will… take your father somewhere quiet until he calms down. Come, Iarvahr.”

“Thank you, captain.” Auria put her hand on his arm. Out of nowhere and unexpectedly, Harian felt a sting of jealousy. “We are leaving soon, for Glaeria. We depart the day after tomorrow, in the morning. Maybe we can all meet again, tomorrow? Or at least come to send us off at the southern gate.” Suranihr nodded. “We will be honored.”

When Suranihr and Iarvahr left, they were left alone in the room. “What did you smoke, Auria?”

“Painkillers. Weak narcotics… I suffer from constant headaches. Or I did suffer from them, until the projector pushed them away.”

“And now that the projector is drained, the pain has returned.”

She nodded tired from both the pain and the narcotics. Harian continued.

“Why don’t you recharge it?”

She was taken aback by the question. “And kill someone with it? I’m a medic, Harian. Not a killer.”

“You’ve killed before. In self defense, at least. I don’t think that the projector would mind where the drained life came from.”

There was some truth in his words. “I’ll keep it in mind, soldier.”

***

“You are close, Iarvahr. You know what you need to do.”

He kept turning in the darkness, and although he heard Leonie, he couldn’t see her anywhere.

“You know how to power them up now. The blue prisms. Find them, and wield the arms. Wield the projectors, Iarvahr.”

“Where are you, Leone?” He shouted into the void, clueless and helpless.

“I am dead, Iarvahr. But you can bring me back. Only you can bring me back.”

“How?” he pleaded, tears running down his face.

“Wield the projector.”

***

Iarvahr woke up in his chamber aboard Luthra. He knew what he had to do - now that he found out that he needs blue prisms, and that they can be found in archives, he was just a small step away from bringing Leonie back.

He snuck silently into the hall of the mechanics, where three projectors laid bare upon a hard metal workbench. He quickly looked around, and when he assured himself that no one followed him and that no one was with him in the room, he took the projectors and put them in a large leather bag that he grabbed from a nearby bench. Quietly as a shade, he left the hall.

He relied on his rank that no one would stop him on his way off of the ship and other than a few salutes, there were indeed no interruptions. As he walked off the ship deck and hurried towards the part of the city where archives stood, another figure followed him.

“What the fuck are you doing, Iarvahr…” Suranihr muttered to himself.