Gwenda left home without eating, her ponytail swaying on her back with each step. The tank top she wore was the same as Wednesday’s, and she was grateful she hadn’t needed to drag herself on the ground with her yet. It was funny how sometimes Darcy came up with a kind of training, pulling out of thin air the possibility of invasion, like a child’s game, but with close contact shocks where people ended up with broken arms or legs if they didn’t hide. No rules, just hide or die, because when it came to fighting, five hooded invaders would corner the agents and pin them until the end of the round. That was in the best-case scenarios.
But in the end, crawling on the ground and hiding was an art for Gwenda.
Louise had left before the sun even rose, and Gwenda hadn’t the strength to say goodbye before going back to sleep again.
Still, she hadn’t put anything on the raw flesh, not even something that could alleviate the pain. Bandages were out of the question. If she were a pawn of Carsany, of the king, that showed this, that let curious glances know about it. Just like she knew about everyone who passed by on the street. Some of them had bandages, and Gwenda felt for them.
The young woman walked down the road and accepted those who observed her. It didn’t take long for her to understand that they were watching her newest label. She didn’t know how of these people knew her or who had seen her in the square, but that didn’t matter either.
Gwenda didn’t go to the bar where Kimer worked this morning and headed to her Carvlinea Sector instead. Hoping that perhaps her boss would give her friendly greetings for arriving early. But Gwenda knew she couldn’t expect much from Darcy.
She walked with her chin up and her back straight, trying not to think too much about the still bloody wound below her collarbone. But the paper was her biggest fear. The signature she would be forced by the king to make. Louise had the task of doing it for the king, but the friend couldn’t ask for something like when all Gwenda wanted was to be left with her own consuming thoughts. But Gwenda was afraid of what would happen to Louise.
The horses on her sector’s stable were saddled. Almost all of them. And Gwenda frowned at the hurried man finishing saddling one more and entered the sector.
There was no one there when Gwenda arrived, and she was surprised that not even Darcy was there. The papers were scattered on her desk, and the pen ink was turned as if someone had hit it.
The young woman descended to the lower floor with her heart pounding. Then she heard Darcy’s screams.
Her boss was shouting orders to the agents who were looking for weapons and loading them. The sound came from all sides. Gwenda ran to the center of the sector, and there they all were.
Each one had their weapon. Some had two, one on each side of their hips. Swords were strapped to the backs of agents who knew how to handle and tear apart, but the firearm didn’t leave their body, it was there regardless of the reason.
Gwenda walked up to Darcy, dodging bodies that almost collided with her on the way.
— What’s happening? — Gwenda asked as she stopped by her side and watched the movement more closely.
— Rebels attacked on Pheharia Street — her boss replied.
Gwenda’s legs went weak. Sector 6. Kimer worked there and probably must have been called in by the attack and left his job as soon as possible to help. If only Gwen had gone to her bar…
— How long ago? — She wanted to know.
— Here, take these — Darcy ignored her and threw two weapons at her. Gwenda caught them and strapped them to her hips. — Make it count, Matchstone. Today’s rebellion is brewing.
Gwenda gritted her teeth, and Darcy continued giving orders.
— Don’t forget that Rubben won’t miss this move; I want everyone defending each other.
Some agents rushed up, straight to the horses.
— Raux — The man who had threatened Gwenda approached Darcy — We’re short on ammunition for the K23 weapons.
K23, better know by the name Black Crow.
Darcy seemed unfazed as she assembled her own gun.
— Pray that it won’t be necessary to use them.
It had been a long time since a rebellion had occurred.
The man diverted his gaze to Gwenda, and she just stared back at him to show that he deserved every single thing that went through Gwenda’s head at that exact moment.
Ryxer Vannyer glanced down at her collarbone.
Gwenda understood those who doubted her. She was one of the few in Carsany show knew more about mystical information than about human and things without magic. But she wanted to be someone who didn’t put a question mark on someone’s face. She had been working in sector 3 for some time now; they should be used to and aware that she would never do that.
The man nodded to her as Darcy turned to leave. Ryxer followed the boss, and Gwenda was one of the few to stay on the lower floor. The new agents were training when she left the place to go upstairs and see her friend.
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Gwenda pointed the gun at a guy with a knife in his hand, her knuckles white.
She had heard the explosion on her way there. Everyone did and hastened their pace. People died, including rebels, few remained standing. They risked themselves to bring down a Carvlinea sector. Why?
She had barely dismounted her horse and rushed inside the now ruined place. Her legs were trembling as she searched beneath concrete and dust. She would only relax when she laid eyes on Kimer.
Now she had stopped one of the rebels from escaping by shooting his foot. He fell to the ground with a groan of pain, but soon was on his feet, staggering. The two stared at each other, and the rest of the agents were behind her, dealing with other rebels.
— Surrender, and I won’t shoot — Gwenda said, taking a step toward him over the rubble.
— They promised my family — His voice was hoarse as he responded, and Gwenda tensed when he took a vial from his pocket and opened it with this thumb. She couldn’t do anything as she saw him gulp it down in one go.
Gwenda cursed and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit his hand. The vial shattered, and he roared in pain before dropping the knife to the ground with a clatter and then collapsing, writhing on the stones. Smoke escaped from his mouth, and his body began to decompose. Gwenda entertained the thought that perhaps this vapor was the man’s soul.
— What the hell is this — She muttered to herself.
She sighed and lowered her arm before holstering the gun back on her hip.
The rebel’s cheekbones had completely dried up. Gwenda couldn’t tell if it was skin or bone on his arm, but soon there would be nothing left but the skeleton, she supposed. His clothes nor draped over his skeletal frame. His eyes seemed to disappear, and his teeth were exposed as if the decomposition had already taken place.
Gwenda looked away.
— This had never happened before — Ryxer stopped by her side, frowning at the dead rebel.
She blinked and moved away without bothering to respond to Vannyer. No, it had never happened before.
Sector 9 was an ally of the destroyed sector, the sector 6. They arrived almost at the same time as Gwenda’s sector.
She searched for Kimer in every corner, and when she found Darcy, she found her friend. Her legs almost gave way, but then she set her eyes on Jurian, who stood next to Kimer with a clenched jaw, trying to stare down Darcy. However, the chief was talking to Kimer and didn’t care in the slightest about the presence of an agent from the opposing sector.
If only he threatened to do something...
Gwenda walked toward them and jumped without looking over another body in the way before placing her hand on the gun. Jurian didn’t seem inclined to play nice with his fists clenched. He glanced at Gwenda, and she stopped. The two locked eyes.
Jurian didn’t need to look where Gwenda’s hand was to know hat would happen if he moved o the wrong side. Gwenda narrowed her eyes.
Her boss turned to her, but she continued to stare at Jurian. Darcy turned away almost with an eye roll and began to ask for the reports of the previous missions of the sector that had just suffered an explosion to see if anything was interconnected.
Gwenda followed her boss and Jurian’s gaze followed her.
They were in danger, that’s what this explosion made her understand. If they wanted to destroy a sector, it wouldn’t take long for bombs to be installed in the others. It was an option. If Darcy didn’t find anything in the reports, they would have to take action to prevent this from happening again.
— Anyone you know? — Darcy asked.
— A rebel claimed to seek justice and fled — Irritated, Darcy turned to the man providing information, ready to say something that would make him shrink — Knocked out nine agents and even stole a horse. I don’t believe there was anything else to be done.
Darcy huffed and handed the report papers to sector 6 who passed by.
— Justice with your own hands is not justice, it’s vengeance — Stated the boss.
— And if it has something to do with the wall? — Gwenda asked.
Darcy didn’t look at Gwenda as she replied:
— Most of the soldiers had no family.
And fell silent.
Gwenda knew there was something involved, and it wasn’t just the fact that perhaps they were trying to honor the death of the soldiers.
— That’s not important. They were royal guards.
— We don’t know if the rebels were in favor of the king and opposed to our cause. — Gwenda frowned not understanding what the hell she had just said. Weren’t they the ones doing the king’s dirty work by eliminating mystics and patrolling the streets of the Capital? But it was the Carvlineas who probably instigated the mystics to attack in this manner, and they still failed at their own job. There must be people who hated them. — Don’t jump to conclusions like that, Matchstone. The case was ours, and justice should be done with the mystics who blew the damn wall.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
— Who said it was the mystics, besides our assumptions?
Gwenda regretted having said something when Darcy turned to her abruptly, her red hair swaying with the movement. Her expression showed confusion and doubt. Doubt from Gwenda.
— What did you say? — Her blue eyes seemed to swallow all the courage Gwenda had built up over the months to address Darcy and not someone inferior who could do it for her.
Gwenda opened her mouth to answer, but someone shouted in the distance.
— There’s someone alive!
Agents ran toward the commotion that was forming ahead with prayers to the gods on their lips. The boss was still staring at her when Gwenda passed by her, going to the pila of cement.
The woman under the concrete unshed it away to free herself, but when she tried to free her trapped foot, her strength gave out. Her forehead was bleeding, and she blinked rapidly, as if to keep herself awake. Her groan of pain from the effort cracked the ice that threatened to climb up Gwenda’s fingers. The woman’s breathing was heavy and fast. Agents approached to help, but she managed to lift the cement and pull her foot out from underneath.
Gwenda turned to... Darcy was no longer there, vanished into thin air. Then she turned her attention to the short haired woman, covered in dust.
The woman got up with the help of an agent and clung to his neck with one arm. She couldn’t put her left foot down as it was splayed to the side.
— Do you want me to call a medic? — Gwenda asked.
The short haired woman tilted her head and squinted.
— No thank you, girl. — She replied.
Even though her eyes had returned to the mark still fresh on her skin, she didn’t seem to mind that Gwenda was over eighteen, perhaps she had though the girl had just reached the right age for the mark. If she were as observant as Darcy claims... the woman must know that the Shooter made the label turning twenty. The sector 6 boss left with one of her agents, limping, and Gwenda watched her go. When she turned around, she saw Darcy talking to Ryxer Vannyer near her black horse. Her boss held the reins while flipping through papers on a clipboard with a furrowed brow.
Ryxer Vannyer was the son of a soldier on the wall, killed by someone’s hands. Gwenda had her own doubts that the fairies didn’t do this to a mystic but to someone inside the wall. It could be anyone, from one of the soldiers to the king himself. Even though she found it impossible for the king to do something like that. The three fairies didn’t comment on the contract they ventured into, whether it was them, and it would be the first thing to come to someone’s mind like Gwenda’s. That only the mystics were behind this.
If a human wants to destroy Carsany, they wouldn’t hire fairies to destroy the wall. After all, they couldn’t do it. They can’t simply plant a bomb and escape in time. Bomb A3 explodes almost instantly, which explains once again that it could only have been done with magic to contain the explosion and make it strong enough to do what they did. It was only the fairies who were nearby when this happened, failing into a trap and being taken to sector 3, leaving Gwenda in charge.
When the young woman saw those small creatures in the ropes made to bind them, she couldn’t help but imagine the scene of the rest of the case. Complicated. The report of everything that happened and why it happened should be her job. At first, she refused, but when she saw that she was already finding answers — slowly, but she was — she accepted before it was passed on and seized this opportunity.
Gwenda sighed and moved with her head down towards Kimer, to speak with her and ask if something much worse than this happened. On the way, a dead rebel was under the cement, and only his head, one of his arms still stretched upwards, and one of his feet were visible. A glass flask was open with the lid dangling, half the contents had leaked out, but still.
She didn’t look around to see if anyone was watching when she picked up the flask and closed it, putting it in her pants pocket. Under her lashes, she looked around and then headed to Kimer.
Her friend was squatting in front of a body leaning against a pillar. She looked at it with curiosity.
— Who’s that? — Gwenda asked, and Kimer turned to her.
— Good to see you’re okay. — She said and turned back to the body. — It was the head agent of sector 9. Jurian was totally shaken. — She reached for the dead man’s jacket, and opened it, looking inside. Kimer took a knife out from inside and put it in her own jacket.
— Were they friends? — Gwenda felt her throat tighten. If they were brothers or something...
— They were — Kimer sighed and stoop up — But he’ll get over it — She moved to Gwenda’s side and smiled at her.
Gwenda smiled weakly back and patted Kimer’s back twice.
— I thought you’d die before I got here. — She commented.
Her friend shook her head.
— I hardly ever get close to death, Gwen. — She replied.
Gwenda didn’t take long to retort, her eyes shining.
— We can settle this tomorrow. If you show up at the arena and beat me, two larges pizzas ate one me, drinks included.
Kimer’s eyes lit up, and the smile slowly widened on her face. Gwenda almost laughed.
But her friend declined:
— I can’t, Gwen. I need to work, and I think you do too. — Kimer put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. — Take care of that label. I don’t want to see it get infected.
She acted like she was her mother, but Gwenda never complained and never would. Even though she had discreetly rolled her eyes.
— You’re always working. You don’t seem like the one who told me to relax two days ago.
— Hey, it’s not me who earns fractions of gold just by hitting bottles and cans and winning duels.
— If I knew how to do something other than that.
— You’re already doing it, Gwen. Doing a great job. — Kimer gave a corner smile before moving on and continuing her search for any information in this chaos.
Gwenda sighed and rubbed the back of her neck with her right hand, on the opposite side of the mark. It still felt like it was boiling on her skin, as if that burning sensation she felt when the bar touched her never ended.
In a glimpse, Gwenda saw Darcy staring at her even though she was paying attention to someone else speaking beside her.
The agents were in motion, collecting everything they could. They had to remove under the cement to see the rebel’s clothes. A crowd was trying to pass the sector 6 agents blocking the passage. Gwenda asked which of them were rebels who didn’t speak up like these, who didn’t have the courage.
They yelled to leave them alone. Leave the bodies alone, give them a little honor. But no one cared and they continued to work professionally.
The itching on Gwenda’s spine started, and she tried to straighten up more than she was, even though she knew it wouldn’t help. It was an itch saying something she didn’t want to admit, so Gwenda denied it every time, ignore it as if was normal. She had already been sore on her back without being able to get up because of it, but she tried.
When Killian left her alone, the itching stopped for a while, only to start again when the cases seemed more and more complex.
So she opted to think that it wasn’t just anguish, but a problem. Gwenda started taking medicine a few days ago, and it didn’t help. The intensify seemed to decrease, and she became more reasonable with the medicine. Still remembers when she screamed in pain and shoved twenty capsules into her mouth at a time as if that would help in any way and let her rest for at least one night without the damn nightmares and pains. She woke up sweating even between her legs, and the dark circles were drawings on her face as part of her. Gwenda still had dark circles, but not as a deep as a year ago.
— Gwenda — Someone called her, and she turned in the direction with a stiff body — We need you here.
Ryxer Vannyer was squatting over a corpse and beckoning her with his hand while looking at the fallen man’s face.
Gwenda just stared at her feet. Leather boots and winter pants, which hadn’t even arrived yet. When the agent realized that she hadn’t moved, Ryxer looked for her and landed on her eyes. He made Gwenda see in his gaze that everything was fine, that everything seemed right.
So, she took a deep breath and went in his direction. Ryxer smiled amiably and stood up.
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The table in the middle of the weapons base in sector 3 trembled slightly when the body of a satyr was thrown on top of it by Vannyer.
Ryxer and Gwenda exchanged glances. She found it strange, the dead man that the agent called her to take a look at and ended up removing the boots. Hooves made Gwenda lose her breath, and Ryxer looked as pale as death at that moment. But she swallow hard and forced herself to take off the satyr’s pants, tearing them with the knife she always kept hidden on one side of her hip behind the gun.
Pure despair filled Gwenda’s eyes. They had called Darcy and the sector boss of Kimer. Since they found it, they could take care of it until they found something. If they didn’t find any answers in a month, they should return the body to sector 9. Kimer just watched from afar, Gwenda had noticed.
But the next month was New Year, and Gwenda knew she was too involved in this case to even be able to stop by the end of this month, which was near.
— A satyr within the wall in the same month as the explosion — Darcy murmured to no one in particular.
Gwenda quickly volunteered to have a decent conversation.
— Talking to the fairies might help with something else. They are Daughters of the Nymphs, and satyrs have a fetish for them. Besides that, it must be a coincidence.
Darcy Raux pointed her finger at Gwenda without caring to take her eyes off the body on the table.
— I want you out of the interrogation. You will work to find something with what the interrogator provides you. Agent Vannyer will stay with you to help you stay awake.
— What?
The boss glanced at Gwenda under her lashes, making her hold her breath.
— I don’t want rest until we find something, and I’ll help any way I can. — And in that, Gwenda knew what the boss meant. She never had time for anything other than her work that seemed to please Darcy every day. — You will pack bags and stay here. There’s a room at the end of the hallway, settle in there.
— Boss — Gwenda practically growled, placing her hand on the table.
When Darcy looked at her again, Gwenda didn’t shrink back, didn’t do anything but narrow her eyes and clench her jaw, showing her frustration.
— I’m tired as much as you are of this case, but this...
— It’s an order, agent. Obey. This case will end, and I want both of you until the end. No contradicting because it won’t change what’s already decided. Nobody will rest until the culprit of this is found. If you want to continue being part of Carvlinea, do what I say. Don’t close your damn eyes.
Gwenda could see the torture Darcy was going through to try to understand what al this was about. The young woman lowered her head, defeated.
— Agent Vannyer, protect Gwenda from what she can’t protect herself from and stay focused. Both of you, stay focused.
Gwenda waited for Darcy to say: And you, Gwenda, protect Ryxer. But the boss said nothing and headed for the exit with other agents on her tail. Some rookies went back to shooting training on the other side.
She was irritated that Raux had forgotten that Gwenda could protected herself. And who needed couple protection was Vannyer, not her.
— Well... — Ryxer began.
— Shut up. — Gwenda raised her hands in the air and moved away from the table with her eyes closed.
She let out a sigh of agony and rubbed her face before leaving the lower floor as soon as possible. If she didn’t get out of there, she might explode in the middle of a bunch of firearms and sharp blades.
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Gwenda and Vannyer spent over two hours studying the damn body. It was a satyr, what did they expect? No scratch marks before the sector explosion. It was easy to differentiable between a drier wound and a more recent one. But there was nothing. Perhaps the almost faded scars on the arms indicated that he had participated in some things he had to face bravely. But Gwenda couldn’t insinuate anything just from these clues.
They didn’t open the body. Gwenda refused to open the body to find out if he died before or after the explosion, with that poison she had picked up on the ground near another body. That wasn’t what interested the most.
The poison caused terror in the rebel, but that was because he was a human. She couldn’t say if it would cause the same in a satyr without opening the body.
But... she had stopped for a moment, paralyzed, the color had drained from her face as she thought. If it wasn’t poison that killed him, it was the explosion. It was impossible to say which of the two, but no broken part of the body gave any answer, besides it being atop the heap of cement when they found the dead body.
If the satyr took the poison, that slimy liquid, and died because of it. It wasn’t to be expected much that it was something weak.
Holy Goddess.
To kill a damn satyr, that poison had to be something powerful, and Gwenda still carried it in her pocket. She held herself back from putting her hand around it, even though it was inert tight next to her.
To tell the truth, she didn’t know whether to tell Ryxer about the vial she had taken or not, bur she told him to keep secret the fact that there was a type of poison strong enough to kill mystics. She made Vannyer promise by his last. And so Ryxer did.
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She got home and hurried to the fridge, then found something and ate while taking off her boots and leaving them along the way. Gods, she was starving.
And then she packed her bags. Even with her heart pumping blood through her body and feeling the throbbing in her brain, she packed her bags with everything she thought necessary to spend a long time at the base. She knew she was still far from guessing the culprit behind all this, but she wouldn’t stop, just as Darcy asked.
It was pure rage screaming through her veins as she threw everything into the bag haphazardly, as if that could distract her from the threat spreading through her body. She grunted as she threw with all the force she had one last shirt over other clothes. And then she stopped and looked at her own mes. The only thing she did was close her eyes and exhale before lowering her chin and falling to her knees.
Gwenda tied her hair in a bun on top of her head and took a deep breath, then began to pack the suitcase again.