The shadows clung to the edges of Refuge as night settled over the settlement, leaving most residents asleep and unaware of the lurking dangers. But Marcus couldn’t sleep. He slipped quietly out of the council hall and into the darker corners of Refuge, guilt and fear pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. In his pocket, he fingered a small, blackened piece of wood—a token he’d been given weeks ago, marked with the unblinking eye of the Sanctified. It was a promise and a threat rolled into one.
Under the cover of darkness, he waited, listening for the familiar soft tread of footsteps. A figure emerged from the shadows moments later. Jace, one of Magnus’s most trusted lieutenants, moved with an unsettling calm, his eyes fixed on Marcus, a faint, mocking smile tugging at his lips.
“Marcus,” Jace greeted him, his voice a low whisper. “I trust everything is on schedule?”
Marcus’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to nod. “Yes. The supplies were left where you asked, and I’ve made sure they’ll stay overlooked until you retrieve them. But…” He glanced around, voice lowering even more, “when is this going to end, Jace? How much more does Magnus expect me to do?”
Jace’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “You’re in no position to ask favors, Marcus. You know how this works. We break them slowly, so they’ll turn on each other long before we step in.” He let the words hang in the air, watching Marcus squirm under the weight of his choices.
Marcus swallowed hard, a knot of anger and shame twisting in his stomach. “I’m just… trying to keep things safe. If you’re going to attack Refuge, just get it over with.”
Jace’s smirk widened, his tone dripping with mockery. “So noble, Marcus. But it’s too late for that. You’ve helped us set the stage, and all that’s left now is to let them tear themselves apart.” He straightened, his expression darkening. “Your loyalty is all that’s keeping you safe. Lose that, and I won’t be the one returning for you.”
Marcus shivered, realizing that he was in too deep to escape. His loyalty, once to Refuge, now bound him to the Sanctified—and to Magnus’s mercy. Jace stepped back, disappearing into the night as silently as he had come, leaving Marcus alone with his regret and the suffocating weight of his decisions.
The next morning, Marcus returned to the council hall, slipping into his seat before any of the other council members arrived. He felt the familiar rush of guilt gnawing at him, each decision seeming worse than the last. He told himself it was a necessary evil—a way to protect himself, and perhaps to shield the few residents he still felt loyal to. But even he could feel his justifications weakening.
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The door creaked open, and he looked up to see Jack entering the hall, his eyes sharp and fixed on Marcus. Jack had been keeping a close eye on him, suspicion etched in every glance. Marcus braced himself, trying to keep his expression calm as Jack approached.
“We lost more supplies last night,” Jack said, his tone carefully neutral. “Another barrel slashed. This isn’t just carelessness or desperation anymore.”
Marcus forced a frown, nodding as he pretended to consider the possibility. “It’s… frustrating,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Maybe it’s just people acting out, desperate with all the rationing and tensions building up. You know how it can get.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, scanning Marcus’s face as if searching for the truth hidden behind his words. “People don’t go around painting Sanctified symbols just because they’re frustrated, Marcus. They’re trying to break us from the inside. And someone is helping them.”
Marcus tried to keep his composure, his heart pounding as he met Jack’s gaze. He knew Jack was close to figuring out the truth, but he couldn’t risk a confrontation—not without consequences that would affect the entire settlement. “You’re right,” Marcus said, letting out a sigh. “We need to be careful… but we also have to keep the peace. Panic would only make it easier for them to attack.”
Jack studied him for a moment longer, clearly unsatisfied. He gave a small nod, but his expression remained hard as he turned and left the hall, his suspicions far from dispelled. Marcus watched him go, feeling the chill of fear sink deeper as he realized that Jack wasn’t going to let this go.
That night, back in his quarters, Marcus sat alone, the weight of his choices pressing heavily on him. Each act of sabotage he’d committed felt like another stone on his conscience, each one pushing him closer to the edge. He’d once believed he could keep Refuge safe through loyalty and reason, that he could use his position to keep people secure. But now, he felt like a traitor. His thoughts drifted to Magnus and the promises he’d made, promises that now felt hollow and empty.
Marcus sank into his chair, covering his face with his hands. He was trapped, caught between his fear of the Sanctified and his loyalty to the community he was supposed to protect. Each night, his mind was filled with regrets and the question that haunted him: How had he let things come to this?
A quiet knock interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up, dread knotting in his chest as he wondered who would be at his door at this hour. He opened it to find Jace standing there once again, his eyes cold and calculating.
“We need more from you, Marcus,” Jace whispered, his voice like ice. “Magnus has decided it’s time to accelerate things. Soon, you’ll be preparing Refuge for the final phase.”
Marcus’s heart sank, but he forced himself to nod. He knew better than to resist, knowing that his survival—and any hope of keeping Refuge even partially safe—depended on his continued cooperation.
As he closed the door behind him, Marcus leaned heavily against it, his hands shaking. He’d crossed the line long ago, but each new demand, each act of betrayal, felt like another nail in the coffin. He was losing everything he’d once fought to protect, and now, he could only watch as the community he’d betrayed marched toward its doom.