"What do you mean gone?" I demanded, frustration seeping into my tone. The sudden upheaval had left us reeling, scrambling for answers in the disorienting aftermath.

The room we faced was King’s office as Fleur had indicated before. Rough-looking shelving lined with trinkets and other various items. It bore the marks of a recent upheaval as if a whirlwind had torn through it. Papers were strewn across the floor, furniture overturned, and shelves were in disarray.

"What in the world happened here?" Lucas's voice echoed my own bewilderment, his gaze sweeping across the disarrayed office. His knitted brows mirrored the puzzlement etched into my own features.

Amidst the disorder, the absence of the pages, as well as any trace of King's auction items, remained a confounding mystery. It was as if the room had been purged of its valuable contents. But with how timely we had gotten in here, nobody would have had time to gather everything and take it, let alone hide it all anywhere.

Before we could further contemplate the peculiar turn of events, a sudden commotion shattered the uneasy silence, reverberating from the direction of the markets outside.

A clang of metal coming from back out in the markets caught my attention as a blade with dark red marks on it came piercing through the wooden door.

As the sword came through, the door slowly swung open to reveal a large body with a white mask and trench coat hanging, skewered to the door like a shish kebab.

At the other end of the blade was one of the hooded figures who had bought at the auction. They pulled out the sword and the body of one of King’s guards flopped to the stone floor in a heap and continued to pool blood beneath them.

The swordsman’s attire, obscured by a hooded cloak and a mask, bore an unsettling peculiarity. Ash-coloured goggles covered their eyes with no apparent means of sight, and a gasmask-like contraption obscured the rest of their face.

But it was their darker complexion, a stark contrast to the locals of Leode, that hinted at their origin, indicating a foreign presence amidst the chaos. Maybe even from another country.

Before we could even process the gravity of the unfolding scenes, a deafening cacophony erupted from the markets outside, followed by a series of shots that reverberated through the hall.

Bang!

King, with his revolver aimed skyward, discharged the weapon, the loud reports of the shots shattering the clamour and imposing an eerie silence upon the once-chaotic markets.

The room, now plunged into an uneasy hush, held its breath for just a moment as the repercussions of King's drastic action echoed through the air, until falling back into chasm once more.

Fleur's urgency pierced through the disarray, her voice cutting through the tension like a beacon of reason amidst the pandemonium. "We need to leave. Now."

Her words resonated with a sense of imminent danger, urging us to abandon the office and escape the escalating mayhem before it consumed us.

"Wait," I interjected, a lingering concern gnawing at me. "The pages—"

Lucas's voice sliced through my unfinished query, a note of frustration underlining his words. "Screw the pages. Nothing's here. Not even the other auctioned items. We’re at a dead end."

As an uncertainty loomed over my next move, fast-moving footsteps could be heard coming from another door inside of King’s office until the door began to creak open to reveal a scruffy white-haired boy, none other than Caius.

“Caius,” Fleur exclaimed. “You aren’t supposed to be… Ugh, never mind that anymore. Did Darius send you here?”

Caius, with a hint of urgency in his voice, cut through the tension. "Yes. He sent me to find you all and get you out of here quick smart," he announced, a breathless urgency underscoring his words.

Fleur's swift response echoed through the office, a decisive command that urged us into motion. "Perfect timing. Let's go, quickly."

With Caius taking the lead right beside Fleur, we all swiftly made our way through a labyrinth-like corridor lined with pipes and moist stone walls. Our feet echoed down the dimly lit passages for a few hundred meters until we came to a set of wooden stairs.

Quietly we each ascended the stairs, pushing up a latched door that opened into an unexpected sanctuary—a cozy house that exuded a sense of comfort and opulence, foreign to the tumultuous markets. Heavy rain could also be heard patting on the roof which would’ve been drowned out by the market's clamour earlier.

The ambience within the house, warm and inviting, contrasted starkly with the chaos outside. It was a haven of tranquillity amidst the storm. No doubt we were in the more lavish area of Leode right now.

Before I could fully absorb the incongruity of our surroundings, Fleur, her urgency unyielding, guided us out the back door, where Darius awaited our arrival.

The contrast between the serene interior of the house and the mayhem we had left behind was staggering. Darius stood in quiet vigilance beneath the hissing rain, his expression inscrutable, as if awaiting our return.

Without a word, we followed him out to the main road in the creeping darkness of the late evening, where a carriage was waiting for us.

Getting in out of the rain, Lucas took out an aqueous spherical object. A Hollow Marble.

He dropped it on the floor of the carriage and the entire inside was enveloped in a cool presence that negated outside interference. We could speak freely without prying ears.

Once the carriage began to move, Darius, his brow furrowed with concern, broke the silence. "What unfolded back there? I'm guessing you didn't manage to get the pages at the auction?" His words hung in the air, laden with a yearning for answers.

Fleur, her gaze flickering between each of us, recounted what she knew. Though she wasn't right where the action was the whole time, she still had information. She then explained that both Lucas and I had been right at the forefront of the auction. Yet, when her inquisitive gaze fell upon me, her expression abruptly shifted to one of shock.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Concern etched upon her face, Fleur's question pierced the weighty silence within the carriage. "Elias, what happened to your eyes?"

It was then that the others noticed it too—the faint remnants of blood around my eyes. The rain had diluted and washed most of it away. It was a detail overlooked by both myself and the others in our haste to escape the markets earlier.

I hesitated, weighing the implications of what I had glimpsed against the risk of revealing something I shouldn’t. However, for the safety and understanding of our team, I knew I had to convey the disconcerting details that had unfolded within my fractured sight without revealing my own abilities.

"I... I saw something peculiar," I began, my voice measured as I recounted the disorienting experience. "Crimson strings, like ropes, extending from everyone near the stage. They were... incorporeal, yet painfully present."

A momentary unease flickered across the faces of my companions, their expressions mirroring a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Darius, lost in contemplation, murmured to himself, "A high-tier arcanist?"

Caius, intrigued by Darius's words, inquired, "What do you mean?"

Darius, his gaze shifting between us, revealed his understanding. "It could have been a Tier 4 or even a Tier 3 Arcanist," he explained, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and concern. "High-tier arcanists reach a point where some of their abilities become imperceptible to lower-tier arcanists. Witnessing such powers can inflict significant spiritual or even physical harm."

He glanced at me with a hint of astonishment. "Elias managed to catch a glimpse of a high-tier arcanist's ability, a feat that should have incapacitated him instantly, turning him into a Lamentor. It's commendable he's unscathed, given the circumstances."

Amidst the confounding revelations, the carriage trundled on, enveloped in the safety of the Hollow Marble, affording us a haven to continue discussing the perplexing turn of events.

After explaining the auction's happenings, Darius's measured voice sliced through the mounting tension. "We need to be cautious. Such sightings usually mean we've stepped into a territory beyond our understanding. It’s probably even a good thing we didn’t manage to secure the pages."

Fleur, her demeanour composed, interjected, "Could this tie in with Xerces's disappearance or the missing pages?"

“There's always a chance,” Darius replied. “Xerces being the supplier, he could’ve gotten away with the product himself seeing as things started to go awry.”

As we navigated the winding streets of Argyle Lane, the tension in the carriage was palpable, each of us consumed by the weight of our revelations.

Upon our return to The Den, a sense of urgency loomed over us. Darius ushered us into the meeting room.

Darius, his countenance etched with a calculated resolve, wasted no time in orchestrating our next moves. “I've reached out to Alexei in advance just in case,” he announced, his voice carrying an air of assurance amidst the lingering uncertainty. “He will attend to Elias's condition while we deliberate our course of action further.”

After taking a seat in the Chemistry room for what felt like a brief moment, a light rap came at the door before it opened.

A figure swept in, draped in a quality white trench coat. His thin face and ashy brown hair, bordering on a shade of grey in certain lighting, were unmistakable. It was Alexei. An arcanist from The Legion, Goldeen's unit of official Arcanists much like The Huntsmen here at The Den.

“Elias,” his voice, tinged with concern, cut through the room, carrying an air of quiet determination. “Let’s get you sorted out, shall we?”

As Alexei entered the room, I acknowledged him with a nod, sensing his familiarity and expertise. He proceeded to remove his trench coat and carefully placed it on a nearby rack, revealing sleeves rolled up in readiness for work.

"What happened to your eyes, Elias?" Alexei inquired, his focus unwavering as he gathered various materials and strange liquids from the shelves around the room and began tinkering.

I recounted the chaotic events that had transpired at the auction—the scenes I saw, the red strings that had seemingly materialized out of thin air, and the inexplicable pain that had accompanied my attempt to peer into the future, and the pages too.

Telling Alexei about what I had seen with Fractured Sight wasn’t an issue since he already knew of my abilities. He was the one who introduced them to me.

As I mentioned the crimson threads, Alexei's brow furrowed in contemplation and paused what he was working on. He muttered to himself, almost inaudibly, "Inquisitor…"

"Inquisitor?" I questioned, seeking clarity amid the enigmatic revelation.

Alexei paused for a moment in thought before continuing with his tinkering. "Inquisitor Michaels," he clarified, his tone tinged with a blend of reverence and caution.

“Is that who I encountered? The one who controlled the red strings?” I replied.

Alexei’s movements ceased momentarily, a glint of recognition flickering in his eyes before he resumed his meticulous tasks.

“Inquisitor Michaels is of the Fate Authority,” Alexei explained, his voice carrying the weight of profound knowledge. “From what I know, a high-tier Arcanist from the Predictor Pathway.”

His words carried an air of weightiness, hinting at the profound nature of the authority wielded by the Inquisitor. I marvelled at the knowledge, a new pathway unveiling itself before me—the intricate tapestry of Fate, an authority I had yet to comprehend. I knew pieces of the time and space authorities but this was my first glimpse at the fate authority.

"The red strings you witnessed," Alexei continued, his tone resolute, "are likely manifestations of his abilities."

The realization struck me—the unseen, intangible threads that had ensnared my senses were not mere illusions but wielded power, intricately linked to the Fate authority. But what purpose did they serve?

"As for your eyes," Alexei interjected, his focus shifting back to the vials and concoctions in his hands, "the concoction I've prepared will help alleviate the strain and restore balance."

With a steady hand, Alexei approached me, a small vial of liquid in his grasp. He extended it toward me, the contents swirling within.

Curiosity and cautiousness warred within me as I eyed the green vial, Alexei's explanation easing some of my apprehension. "What's in it?" I inquired, my hand hesitating before accepting the vial.

"Just a concoction of crushed Cax Root and Spring Water," Alexei replied with a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry, it should help."

After a moment's hesitation, I brought the vial to my lips and swallowed its contents. It was bitter and had a very green and earthy taste. But an instant relief washed over me, a soothing sensation flooding my senses as the discomfort in my eyes lessened.

It felt as though the tumultuous storm within my mind was subsiding, the glass bowl repairing itself gradually, and my symptoms of losing control and turning into a Lamentor went away.

"Thanks," I said, acknowledging Alexei's expertise and assistance, the sensation of clarity returning to my senses.

As the effects settled, Alexei retrieved his trench coat, readying himself to depart. "Anything else you wish to know before I head back to the Capital?" he asked, his tone open to further inquiries.

"Yes," I responded promptly, seizing the opportunity to gather more insights. "Can you tell me more about Inquisitor Michaels? How do you know about him?"

Alexei paused, the weight of my question hanging in the air between us.

"There are many things that occur within the Arcanist world, Elias," Alexei began, his tone measured and guarded. "Some facets remain beyond the purview of outsiders and even those within the inner circles. The Legion and its workings are one such realm, far removed from the purview of The Den."

Eager for any shred of information, I pressed on. "Is there anything you can share, though? Anything about Inquisitor Michaels?"

Alexei's gaze held a distant edge and sighed, a flicker of hesitation evident in his eyes as he delved further.

“Within the system as an Arcanist, Inquisitor Michaels is what’s known as a Singularity.”