The trio walked along the long, steel hallway -- peering through the glass windows to see nothing but barren land. The desolate scenery stretched to the horizons adjoined to the bright, opalescent sky. It was an awe-inspiring sight to newcomers, especially the fledglings. But, as time went by, the view became somewhat unsettling to downright creepy -- as if the world itself was showing them the possibility of a future where the Order failed in its duty of defeating the Distorted, thus bringing forth the extinction of humankind.

"Man, this place is as dull as ever," said Rupert.

"So, you preferred to stay behind in the Wailing Forest then?" asked Lucy, her arms crossed.

Her brother then shrugged before replying. "At least, it's much more....vibrant?"

"Was," Sam interjected, "We kinda destroyed it -- in case you forgot. Besides, the Phantasmal Plane is the ideal location for the Order's headquarters. No Distorted, no disasters, and no human threats."

"And boring," the elder Nightingale added. "I get that our forefathers wanted a safe haven for people like us, but why did they have to build it in another dimension?"

"That's because the Mortal Plane has none," Sam replied before stopping in front of a double door. He placed his hand on the cold, metal surface and soon heard a loud chime.

The door parted ways, opening up to a vast and highly pillared hall more spacious than the one they were in. The trio stood side by side in the atrium -- their eyes were already fixated on the seven layers of glass corridors above their heads. Perched at the top of the lofty tower was an iron spire adorned with a fresco depicting a giant meteor falling from the heavens.

"The Cataclysm," Sam mumbled before recalling the tale he frequently hears from Markus:

'A thousand-year-old catastrophe that triggered a series of natural disasters, leading to the death of nearly 7 billion souls and sinking half of the landmasses into the ocean's depth.

But, what came afterward drove humanity to the brink of extinction. The Distorted, creatures of unknown origin, began to appear around the globe -- preying solely on the remaining survivors.'

GRRR!

Sam and Lucy shifted their attention to Rupert grasping his stomach, who in turn, smiled sheepishly at their probing gaze. "Sorry. It's been a while since we last ate," he apologized.

Lucy grouched, but she could not exactly blame him. Their fight with the Mangler had depleted nearly all of their strengths -- plus, the one who moved the most was her brother. "You're one crazy dude, you know? Climbing that thing with your sickles," she sighed.

"Well, Sam did say to improvise. So, I just did what I was told."

"I told you to improvise, only if everything goes south," Sam corrected him. "I also told you to aim for its legs -- so it'll drop on its knees instead of on its whole body."

"Eh, the job's done, 'right? That thing is already dead, and the same could be said about the Crystal of Birth. I would say that our mission is a complete success."

The younger Nightingale, out of frustration, placed her palms across her face. There were things she wanted to say to her brother -- one of them was about the impending consequences of his actions. Unfortunately, she knew he would only brush her off with his carefree answers.

"You know what?" said Sam, scratching the top of his head. "How about we just get some grubs before returning to our rooms? We've been out in the field for 3 years, eating bland porridge and sleeping on branches -- so, it's no surprise that we're a little bit...disconcerted."

The Nightingales exchanged looks before bobbing their heads at the same time. Sam felt a little relief, albeit temporarily -- for by tomorrow, the brother and sister would undoubtedly start their squabbles anew.

The trio trotted across the hall, heading directly towards an elevator -- its door opened automatically as soon as they were a foot away from the entrance. Luckily for them, the elevator was completely vacant, and they slipped inside with ease.

"Here we go," Rupert pressed the button to the third floor, and the door instantly slammed shut. As they ascended to their destination, Sam suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head. He began to massage the nape of his neck, hoping to alleviate some of the intense sensations running down his spine.

"Again?" Lucy simply asked after noticing her friend's odd behavior.

"Yeah. It's becoming more frequent as of late," Sam winced.

"And your dreams?"

Sam was taken aback by her question. Even though he was already aware of Lucy's perceptiveness, he didn't expect her to be that observant. "Nothing notable -- still the same drowning dreams. Although when we were fighting the Mangler, I saw something -- a small house."

"That's it? A small house?" Lucy exhaled. "Well, at least it was something new. What else did you see?"

“Nothing that I haven’t seen before.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“So, that’s the reason you were standing idly on that monster’s chest. Perhaps you should visit the Infirmary – just to make sure your condition is not something…detrimental.”

“Nah, it’s no use. Every time I went there, the officer in charge always say there is nothing wrong with me – that my memory will sort itself out in due time. Been waiting for ten years and the only thing I can remember is a tiny house.”

Lucy became quiet, unsure how to proceed with the conversation from there. However, much to her relief, the elevator came to a stop at their desired floor. As the door slid open, the trio was greeted by the pleasant smell of freshly-baked bread and roasted meats.

Enticed by the mouth-watering scent, Rupert stormed into the glass corridor, leaving his sister and Sam behind.

"Figures," Lucy rolled her eyes before pursuing her exuberant brother. "Rupe, I told you not to run in the...," the azure-eyed woman was rendered speechless after seeing a stocky man in an all-black attire blocking her older sibling's path.

With a greasy, crooked nose and greying curly hair, the golden brown-skinned man gave the Nightingales an eerie sneer -- revealing rows of pearly white teeth.

"Well, well, well. Look at what we have here," said the man with his deep, booming voice.

"Jack Cindar," replied Sam, suddenly appearing from behind Lucy, "Still alive and kicking, I see. Thought you quit after your little scuffle with Rowanna."

"Ooh, so harsh. The three of you know it'll take more than a few punches to break my spirit."

"But they surely broke something, though," Rupert snorted amusingly while eyeing the man’s nose.

The smile on Cindar's face gradually faded away. He grabbed the elder Nightingale by the collar and snarled at him, "Watch your tongue, you cur. Just because you're a Nightingale, that doesn't mean you get to run your mouth without any...repercussions."

"Now that's ironic," Lucy spoke out. "If you think just by being favored by the Faceless Lord himself, it will give you a free pass to do anything you want? As always, you flattered yourself."

"Oh, am I?" Cindar chuckled. The burly man shoved Rupert away before directing his focus on Lucy. "Markus might fancy all three of you because of your rare abilities, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you still messed up. Badly. The denizens of the Opal Sun will not take lightly those who ruined their beloved Wailing Forest. In other words, you’re fucked.”

“Probably. But why do you care? Unless, there is another reason you’re telling us all this,” Sam retorted.

Cindar grinned. “I heard some interesting rumors regarding the potential candidates for a seat in the Council, in case that old Lord decides to retire.”

“Everyone already knows who those candidates are; it’s either the Opal Sun Prince or the Overseer of the northern continent,” said Lucy.

“You missed one -- Thomas has nominated my name for a seat in the Council as well -- alongside that incompetent prince and the ever-brooding northerner. They are worthy contenders but the result is pretty much set, I'm afraid. As far I know, you are looking at a Captain and Faceless Lord."

The trio glanced at each other -- their lips quivered as they struggled to hold in their laughter.

“Thomas nominated you? There must be some kind of a mistake,” Lucy chortled.

“Yeah, laugh while you still can. Don’t come begging for my forgiveness when I successfully joined the Council – let alone my compassion.”

“Compassion?” Rupert chuckled. “If you have even a tiny amount of compassion, your nose might still be in its former state.”

“Not to mention, your bruised ego,” Sam added.

“I was merely caught off guard. In a fair fight, I would have won against that red-headed bitch – with or without my blade," Cindar grunted.

"You know what, Cindar? There's a fine line between confidence and delusion," Lucy commented, "Similarly, there's also a fine line between true brilliance and madness."

"Are you implying that I'm insane?"

"I'm implying those two other people are more worthy of that seat than you will ever be,” Lucy huffed. “Even if you have the support of the Faceless Lord himself, there are still the Seven Captains; each one of them has their own reasons to reject your nomination. Considering you had already upset one of them, your chances of becoming a Faceless Lord is what people would say, slim."

Cindar scowled at the woman, obviously offended by the latter's scathing remarks. He lunged forward, trying to reach for Lucy's throat -- only to be stopped by Rupert, who acted as a wall between his sister and the furious man. "Uh uh. Don't even think about it," warned the elder Nightingale.

The crooked nose man took a few steps backward before letting out a mocking giggle. "After all those trash-talking, you still need someone else to cover your ass. How pathetic," Cindar scoffed.

"It seems you've misunderstood something, future Lord," said Sam sarcastically, "Rupert is not there to protect his sister. As a matter of fact, he is the only thing preventing you from being beaten to a pulp. I'm sure you don't want a woman to break that beautiful nose of yours for the second time, right?"

Cindar clenched his jaws; his fists trembled as a familiar burning feeling filled his chest. "Don't think this is over," after leaving the threatening remark, Cindar marched past the trio and disappeared into the elevator.

“Funny. For someone claiming to be the next Faceless Lord, he sure is quick at running away,” Rupert blurted out before shifting his attention to his sibling who looked shaken up by the encounter. “Are you alright, lil sis?”

"Well, that was...far more intense than I anticipated," Lucy blew out her cheeks and leaned heavily against the wall. "But, is it true, though? Do you think the Council of Eight will make him one of them?" the woman asked worriedly.

"I doubt it. It is just as you said, Thomas might have been blinded by Cindar's talent, but I wouldn't say the same about the remaining seven. That man has caused a lot of trouble ever since he set foot in the tower," Sam calmly answered.

“But,” Lucy paused for a brief moment, her head tilted toward the floor. “What if…what if he gets the position? It’s bad enough for us to be on Thomas’s shit list – if his apprentice is promoted to a Captain, there’s no doubt he’ll give us a lot of headaches.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that. If there is one thing the Seven have that the Faceless Lord hasn’t is their hatred toward Jack Cindar. Although some of them detested our presence in the Tower – except Markus, of course, they despise the future Faceless Lord even more,” Sam solemnly assured the young Nightingale.

"Guys, guys," said Rupert, waving his hands to attract the duo's attention, "Enough with the depressing talk, and let's just get something to eat. My ears really need a break after hearing all those nonsensical things Cindar spouted.”

“Ugh, will you shut up about your stomach for once?” Lucy said in exasperation.