Kint blinked hard.

The world that had made up his reality faded, evaporating like dust before his eyes.

His house, his wife, his daughter, they were all gone, replaced by the sight of a massive domed room.

Moonlight shone down through a hole in the ceiling, alighted on the space where Carolin had been.

Kint’s eyes widened, breath catching in his throat.

Someone was there… A woman.

She had dark hair and pale skin.

He sighed with relief as he realized it wasn’t her.

The young woman was strapped to a steel table with nothing but an oversized sack as clothing.

There was a stab wound in the center of her chest where Kint’s Stalwart Blade was stuck.

Next to that, was a much larger hole, where the Shattered had buried his hand.

“It was a kindness.”

Kint looked up, gaze meeting the crimson irises of a Shattered God.

He stepped back, immediately regretting it.

Dizziness took him, he fell to one knee. His vision blurred, then refocusing.

The Dowser caught his breath, staring at the black suited entity.

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice gruff.

“‘Set her free. Set her free.’” The tar skinned man quoted. “She was begging for death. Reaching out for anyone to help. Screaming for a savior from the belly of the beast.”

Kint blinked hard, trying to stave off the weariness.

“Then why didn’t you help her?” He asked, skeptical.

The Shattered shook his head, pity in his eyes.

“We don’t kill our own kind.”

“You just did.” Kint grunted.

“Well, it’s more of a principle than a rule, and you’d done the lion's share of the work already.” He grinned.

“So, she was Shattered, like you?”

The man shook his head.

“She wasn’t… But with this.”

He held up a large bloody spike, like something you’d use to hold down a tent. The Shattered had obviously pulled the spike from the girl's chest.

“With this, she became one.”

“What is that?” Kint asked.

“This is a Halvechian Dagger. The Apostles are supposed to be in possession of all thirteen but obviously they’re not.”

The dark entity’s grin widened.

Kint put a hand to his wounded shoulder, it came away bright red.

He shook himself.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Nothing he could do about it now.

“You make Shattered with those?”

“Well… it’s a lot more complicated than that and–”

The crimson eyed man cocked his head.

“You seem to be struggling a bit there, are you sure these are the questions you want to be asking?”

Kint grunted out a laugh.

He found this all very funny for some reason.

He was talking to an ancient sliver of eternity, a creature out of legend, and yet he had not a care in the world.

The Inspector slid down into a seated position, fatigue overtaking him.

“Why… Why did you put me through all that?”

“Because we needed you.”

Kint narrowed his eyes, only partly because his vision was blurring again.

“Needed me how? And who is ‘we’?”

A familiar echo of hard soled shoes rippled across the domed room as the Shattered paced.

“Your daughter is going to be very important someday. And we had questions about your loyalty. We needed to make sure that you would protect her should the need arise. Which, obviously, you would.”

“Of course I would.” Kint said, words slurring a bit.

The crimson eyes tilted as the entity cocked his head again.

“Well… let’s not pretend things weren’t touch and go there for a bit.” The Shattered argued. “Did you grow into that realization, or was it deep down inside you all along? Whatever the case, we have full confidence in you now.”

A noise sounded from a distant hall.

The Shattered narrowed his eyes.

“Oh dear.” He muttered. “That brute is on the way. I’d better be going.”

“Who?” Kint asked, beginning to sway.

“That priest of yours.”

“Sh'Geel?”

“If that’s what you want to call him.”

The Shattered dropped the Halvechian Blade, backing into a darker area of the room.

Kint slid backward to rest on his elbows.

“Oh– I almost forgot.”

The entity rushed back over, leaning in above Kint’s face.

“When she’s ready, bring her to the Blasted Lands. There’s a town on the Skirts called Oren’s Grave.” The thing explained. “If you bring her there, we can keep her safe.”

Kint heard those familiar footsteps exiting, walking away.

“Ask for Hyseen!” A hushed voice echoed through the dark.

The Inspector’s elbows slid out from under him. His head hit the ground hard, causing it to spin even more.

Another set of footsteps.

This time coming from the other direction.

“Kint?”

The deep voice rumbled through the room.

“Oh God’s, Inspector!”

Heavy boots rushed to his side.

A large man leaned over him, taking stock of his wounds.

“Prophet help me.” He exclaimed. “What’s happened to you, man?”

“I just…” Kint started, consciousness going in and out. “Got into a little scrap, that’s all.”

The priest chuckled.

“God’s man. All that and then some. But it looks worse than it is, I’d say. We’ll have you back up in no time.”

The Inspector grunted as Sh'Geel ministered to his wounds, checking and replacing a few of the bandages.

…

….

…..

“...Kint…”

The world shook.

“... Kint… Inspector… Kint…”

Kint opened his eyes blearily.

Sh'Geel was kneeling over him, snapping his fingers.

He must have slipped into unconsciousness for a bit.

“What… What’s going nn…” He slurred.

Sh’Geel’s face was stern, eyes hard.

So serious.

“Kint…”

He held out a long black object in front of the Inspector. It shone a glistening obsidian in the pale moonlight.

“Kint… Do you know what this is?” The priest asked, face solemn, voice heavy with intent.

Kint squinted, struggling to focus on the dark object.

“Iss it a… tent stake?” He questioned, mind moving like butter.

The priest's face softened. He let out a deep sigh.

Oh wait…

He knew what that was.

…

That was a Halvechian Blade…

…

That Shattered had told him that…

What was his name?

…

Oh yes…

…

Hyseen.