Gearford - Legalio City

The whip crack sounded like lightning as it struck its moving target. The Veilspawn let out a following shriek before exploding into ashes.

That was the last of them. Sly assessed her surroundings to make sure there were no longer any enemies lurking or sneaking up on them.

The A-ranked Locksmiths she was paired with were finishing a job taking out their share of Veilspawn. This had been the umpteenth time there was a call for Locksmiths to take care of hordes of Veilspawns appearing seemingly out of nowhere, many without a Rift to come out from.

Sly knew that most, even the mayor of Ledel, didn't want to believe, perhaps out of lack of knowledge or fear of not wanting it to be confirmed.

Who would want to believe that a Curse made 500 years ago by their beloved Saint Lumos and the nefarious Deimos was reliving itself all because a book created by Lumos herself had a way to strip freewill from her creations? If the public found out, there would be riots across the country, and they would riot against Lumos’ name (though there were still plenty with the Dawn Coalition on the rise. Especially with the increase of taxes and rumors stirring of a draft). These shortcomings could have the common person turn their backs against Lumos.

It was exactly what the Children of Deimos and their Master, the Arbiter, wanted.

“Blasted all, this is getting us nowhere.” She hissed, running her fingers through her thick locs. She was ready to report back in and be prepared for another day of the same thing, all without any word from Mayor Duskmire.

She was ready to leave the Oris Pathway, where they had been eradicating the Veilspawn when someone called out for her.

“Oi! Sly, care to have a drink with us? The lot of us are headed over to the tavern. We could use some R&R after that last one.”

The invite came from a tall, large man with dark, curly, rustic hair and a bushy beard. His round cheeks were red, complementing his tan.

“Aye, Earl. I might have to skip out on this one.”

Earl frowned, making the rounds of his cheeks more prominent. He placed his polearm on his shoulder.

“Ah, that's disappointing to hear, Sly! You said that last time, too.” Reilly was another cropped, platinum, short-haired guy. He was a skinny young man with slim arms who could break you in half.

Soon after a while, a few faces she had seen on the battlefield approached her.

“Fine. Fine,” she said with a small smile. “But only a few drinks.”

A few drinks had turned into a couple before the night was over. Sly didn't think abandoning her drinking would have left her in solitude. She couldn't say not drinking helped in any way; she was just as sharp if she was hammered. Incidentally, it made her less herself.

“We’re glad you could finally join us, Sly. It was starting to feel like you were ignoring us.” Ginny, a Locksmith and Earl's wife, cooed to her with oval-shaped eyes. Her gray and white hair was partially tied back, and the remaining strands fell onto her tawny skin.

Sly gulped her mug and settled it back on the table. “Hmph, never. It would take a lot to get rid of me. I've just had a lot on my mind.”

A lot is going on regarding leaving Lyra behind and not finding any link to where Eamon could be.

“Do you mean from your time in the country?” Earl asked, sipping his drink. “You were on official business from the mayor, yeah?”

Sly nodded, swirling the brown liquid in her cup with her hand, watching it slosh back and forth.

“Aye. I left some students behind, that's all.” she sat the cup down again, changing the mood. No need for anyone to dig too deep. “All I know is they better be ready 'cause I'll be quizzing them.”

Ginny and Earl burst out in drunkard laughter, but Reilly’s drunk comment opened the stage.

“I had heard, Sly…. You've been dealing with things other people deem myths? Like, like, Magycte Beasts and the children of Deimos. A cousin of mine in Crystalline City picked up a story from a journalist, can't think of her name, Jo or something….”

Sly stayed silent. Though Reilly was young, she knew it was only the liquid giving him loose lips. She'd think of something to say that would sound convincing to a drunk and when he sobered up.

“It's like you said: the news reporter witnessed something and did as any reporter does. Spread whatever is feasible to the public.”

He seemed to buy that excuse and was about to ask another when Sly noticed a dark shift in the corner of her eye. A cloaked figure was watching her. It could be anyone, from the Sovran of the Children of Deimos to the many rioters she had the misfortune of crossing.

All Sly knew was she would find out who this person was.

“Excuse me, “she said to her companions, who were too drunk to notice her disappearance. Although she was only mildly drunk, that didn't stop her hyperawareness of her instincts.

She walked out of the dimly lit and loud tavern and onto the dirt road streets of the city. She looked left and right, only seeing an occasional passerby or two– the time for curfew would be soon. No one but military and appointed Locksmiths could leave.

That was one other thing the public was curious about.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Nothing,” Sly said. She placed her hands in her pocket and started to tread home with her head knelt. Of course, this was a trick for the cloaked figure to reveal themselves.

Once the shift of feet was heard, Sly spun around, whip hand, “Got you.” Having every intention to lock them up.

Only she came up empty.

She blinked. Surprised, she knew she had seen someone or…maybe not directly someone.

A disembodied giggle rang out. Sly’s gaze rounded the corner streets, forest parks, and buildings, but nothing.

“I can see that realization in your eyes that you figured it out. Well, they don't call you the Rosevera Whip for nothing. Finn wasn't playing!”

The person referring to Finn was known as Sovran #0, The Trickster, which meant this voice was also a Sovran.

“What do you want, Sovran-whatever-number you are?” Sly spat back, still keeping her guard but not seeing any threatening shadows.

“Why, how rude of me…” the voice came from Sly’s right into the alleyway and revealed a figure with pink, curly ponytails with white streaks and a dark purple and white frilled dress wearing a tiny black top hat. “The Southern Belladonna, Sovran #11, Bella, at your service.” with a curtsey bow at the end.

“Why is a Sovran here?”

She smiled; it was almost chilling, and her red eyes glared at her. She looked like a hungry feline waiting for her prey.

“Isn't it obvious?” She clapped, sounding more like a child than anything. She couldn't have been no younger than ten. “I was told to watch you; all the Sovrans were appointed to watch someone. It was my luck I got you as my pick!”

Every alarm in Sly went off, and with a whip crack, the thorny Vines snapped out to the Sovran. Only it phased right through it and the image became blurry before being visible again.

Tch, I knew it, an illusion.

The girl shrieked with excitement at having been ‘struck.’ Her eyes twinkled with amusement and marvel.

“Finnian is going to be so jealous. Ooh, I wonder if I should tell Blackthorn about you too.”

Blackthorn!? She's seen Eamon?

“Oh, no you don't–”

But the image had already faded away. Leaving Sly in the darkness. Though she didn't catch the Sovran, the Sovran child gave her two big clues.

They were watching them, all of them, Lyra and Aurora, and… Eamon was with them.

•†•

Lyra and company exited the Fortress, and to her relief, Aurora, Tierney, and the boy were outside sitting on a flat stone.

Relief washed over Lyra as she made her way to the Children. She hugged them.

On the other hand, Aurora was unsure if she should tell Lyra what happened with the Fiend. She didn't want her to worry or be overly concerned because she had to use it.

But one look at Tierney’s frightened expression as Cassandra consoled her, she knew that wasn't the right thing to do and decided to tell Lyra the truth.

Aurora finished telling her about the Fiend lurking behind them and how Tierney’s vision saved them, leading up to Aurora using her powers to protect them.

Lyra wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, she used it to protect her friend, but on the other hand… it was one more step closer to whatever the Children of Deimos planned for her. That being said, she couldn't be mad—not at Aurora, anyway—her anger was made out for a certain kind of evil.

She wrapped her arms around Aurora and pulled her close, surprising Aurora with a tiny yelp.

“Okay… Thank you for telling me the truth. I'm glad you're both safe. We'll talk more about what we should do about your powers.”

Aurora’s eyes blurred with tears, and she hugged Lyra, cradling her face into her body.

“As for you, Tierney,” Cassandra said, softer, her eyes worried. “Have you been having any other visions as of late?”

Tierney shook her head. “I haven't had another since the last one.”

That's right, Cassandra tried not to flinch at the memory. The night she foresaw that Magycte Beast and the children of Deimos, Croger, slaughtering her soldiers.

“Hmm.” The two women turned to Malakyh, who was stroking his chin. “I may have some kind of insight.”

Cassandra raised her brow. “To what, if I might ask?” She stood protectively in front of Tierney.

Malakyh raised his arms in defense. “I mean no harm. It's just that I've seen this kind of ability among witches.”

“Tierney is no witch. Let alone a primal coven one.”

Malakyh shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. All I'm saying is that her abilities, it seems, must span from trauma or when she is distraught. My Master has shown me plenty of things; perhaps I could ask her–”

“--Not, Strega!” Cassandra yelled at the top of her lungs. “You may be on our side for now, but I refuse to let a witch into her life.”

Besides her relentless hatred for Maxwell Croger, Cassandra detested witches. She had heard far too many things about them, and there had been one too many lawless witches who had done treacherous things.

“Again, I meant it as no harm. Your perception of witches is both factual and blind. There are cruel witches out there– ones that do get reprimanded or banished from the coven– but there are also morally Grey ones; I cannot say good because not even humans are good. They only want to be left alone. Now, I could teach the girl myself. I'm not a full-blooded witch, and as a Strega–”

“Even worse. As far as I'm concerned, you're only cousins of each other.”

Lyra looked between the Praefectus and the Strega, knowing that both of them had their own thoughts and beliefs, but no matter what anyone believed in, they would need to work together to put an end to the Altars. This needs to end before someone gets killed.

“Okay, everyone, break it up. That's enough.” She stepped toward them, keeping their distance if they decided to throw caution to the wind. “We have a job to do: stop the Altars from taking over and then stop the Children of Deimos and Professor Walsh.” And save Eamon.

“But right now,” she looked to the boy on Tierney’s back, who was beginning to stir. “We return this boy to his home. So whatever your reservations are with each other, squash it, or you can take that hatred elsewhere because that's exactly what Deimos and his followers want. You'd be helping Walsh and their Master all too easily.”

She hoped that they wouldn't leave. Lyra knew she couldn't do this on her own. Thankfully, Cassandra’s answer was quick as she bowed her head.

“My apologies for acting out, Lyra. You're right. In order to do our job, we have to work together… but we need no help in that regard.” Her comment was directed at Malakyh.

Understanding the partial threat, Malakyh nodded. “Agreed. We have a goal at hand, but let us complete this one, shall we?”

Ensuring things were settled, Lyra retook the lead as they headed out of the forest.

However, when they exited the forest, a rumble settled under their feet, and passing them was a massive, metallic behemoth rumbling along the dirt road. Its hulking form imprints into the earth and casts an ominous shadow over them.

At least two of the metallic Beasts headed toward the farm.

“By Lumos' grace, is that a tank?” Cassandra named the unknown Behemoth of a giant. She only heard of them through discussions when she attended the Valerian Republic conferences with her uncle, the High Cardinal.

The tank was a fearsome sight. Its sleek, angular design exuded an aura of raw power and invincibility, and thick armor plating covered every inch of its massive frame.

Twin turrets protrude menacingly from its turret, each bristling with heavy weaponry capable of unleashing devastation upon anything foolish enough to stand in its path. The tank emits a deafening roar as it moves, the thunderous rumble of its engine echoing through the streets.

To Lyra and many of the wide-eyed face civilians staring at the metallic beast, who had never seen such a marvel of modern warfare, the tank was a terrifying and awe-inspiring sight.

Yet, it still represented the might and brutality of Aurum's future, a harbinger of the looming storm of war that threatened to engulf their world. Rumors of a draft would start to swirl throughout the cities, and the sight of the tank would serve as a stark reminder of the grim realities Aurum would soon face.

“Let's go and find out.” Lyra urged them to follow her.