Violet was getting some much needed fresh air, when Remus was retched out of the nearest puddle.
Damp, clothing in tatters, and with his hair tousled, Remus looked . . . well, like he always did. He sat up straight, smiled like the world’s problems had undergone a mass cleanse, and appeared perfectly content to bask in his obvious victory.
Suffice to say, this was not the sight Violet was expecting to be greeted with. Especially not in the dead of night. Yet relief flooded through her system. “Come in.” She smiled lethargically. “You can tell me all that transpired with your lady goddess friend once you wash yourself off.”
She swivelled round before Remus could shoot her a fierce scowl. “She’s not my lady goddess friend — business partners at most — and this is the heroic homecoming I receive?”
She laughed, left the door ajar behind her, and entered, the main chamber in disarray. Books, notes, and boards connected by pieces of string were scattered across every surface. Such were the schemes of her mind put into physical form. “You’ll be able to inform me all about your glorious achievements. But get changed first. You do have another pair of clothes, right?”
“There’s likely something lying around here.” Remus' eyes widened. “Is this what you’ve been doing whilst I was away?”
“It has been half a Passing. But we’re ready now.” Her frown faltered, but quickly settled. “Or as ready as we can be.”
It was over an hour later, the pair of them seated around a small coffee table. Hands clutching on respective cups of steaming tea. Violet sipped lightly, doing her best not to knock the stacks of paperwork aside, as Remus finished explaining.
Warmth spread through her. “That Willow sounds like a nasty piece of work. But congrats, you earned that victory. I know how hard you worked for it.” Her eyes strayed towards the nearest window, all temporary joy dispersing at the sight of Hell’s Floor. “Let’s hope it’s a good omen for what’s to come.”
No matter how glad she wanted to be for Remus, Violet couldn’t seem to congratulate him without it sounding insincere. The knowledge that Nova was out there, one self-serving God-Graced away from wiping them off the map, filled her with nothing but dread. A lingering anticipation that refused Violet rest, until what must be done was carried out to total completion.
“So you killed Willow.” Somehow that statement was a less daunting thought. “Or at least attributed towards the act.”
Violet’s features scrunched up. “Juniper told me she would come after us both if we stayed together. Killing one of their personal Vanguard is sure to earn her wrath.”
For the time it took to exhale a long sigh, Remus seemed transfixed by a bout of worry all his own. “All I wanted was to protect the Carpentry Clan, and look at all the enemies I’ve garnered. I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.”
That took her by surprise. She hadn’t approached this topic to glean an apology out of him. “No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. You were totally right in your actions. Maybe she’ll be lenient on you? Brison did offer Willow a chance to flee.”
“I doubt it.” Remus hung his head, before forcing it up. “Simply the fact I help spearhead a rebellion will be enough to earn her fury. And the Frost Clan I had to-”
Remus failed to catch his breath. “Once they find out I’m the perpetrator . . . they’re not going to think too favourably of me either, that’s for sure.”
It was a hard truth neither of them could deny. Nova and his army of Unbounded, Juniper, the Frost Clan, Damosh — if there was a meeting of people who would like Remus’ decapitated head on their desk, it would be quite the gathering.
“We should pack,” Violet suddenly said, the urge to act now all-consuming. “I’ll repeat our plans as we do.”
Time was ticking like the sand out of a shattered hourglass. The Chaos Clan wasn’t far into Hell’s Floor, which in itself was only a small portion of the Ravaged Lands. Consequently, and to both of their delight and dismay, it would only take a day or so to reach their target. A day or so until the Chao Clan — Nova’s lair — would be upon them. It was a prospect that inspired a contrasting nerve and thrill.
There wasn’t much to pack, all things considered. Their travelling bags, rations, waterskins, and a myriad of other necessities would all fit comfortably, dangling off their back. When the tension reached a crescendo, the two of them gathered outside. They wouldn’t be setting out until Remus was rested and fully recovered, some time tomorrow morning most likely, but they had other matters to attend to.
Namely, burning the evidence.
Violet tossed the last of the pages onto a mound of paperwork. It was the accumulation of possibly an entire Passing of preparation. Nights of dedicated research, an appointment with a clan notorious for its troublemaking, and days and days full of headache. Yet, keeping it all here was virtually inviting the next resident who rented this cabin full access to snoop through all of Violet’s secrets. And carrying, what would be no exaggeration to call a ton’s worth of notes, was not only inconvenient, but would slow their trip to a crawl. No, with all of the information engraved into the pathways of her brain anyway, it was better to destroy the mound.
“Set it aflame,” she asked of Remus, “but control the flames if you can. We want to draw the least bit of attention possible.”
Cautious, Remus asked Violet if she was certain, but she quickly nodded. This was it; setting the bonfire alight would really cement the start of the end. Violet shivered, mentally chiding herself. That sort of phrasing was doing nothing for her. Confidence. She would have to conjure boatloads of it, if they were going to stand any chance in her father’s domain.
Remus shot one single, concentrated blast, and the pile was enveloped by azure flame with pinpoint accuracy. The fires never grew too large, exactly enough to reduce the information to ashes without nagging outside attention.
As the two of them walked silently to their respective chambers, Violet couldn’t unclench her teeth.
The time was nigh. She just didn’t know if she was up to it.
----------------------------------------
Donovan sharpened each and every one of his many blades, treating his whetstone with the same respect one should a priceless artefact. He slid each blade slowly across the oiled surface over and over again. Over and over, until the action became methodical.
Finally, once he had checked for any attackers on impulse, he admired the fruits of his labour. All of the fifty-one weapons didn’t so much as glint in the grace of night.
“We’re ready.” He finally sat up, ignoring the valley of bodies expanding out before him. He scowled, which only caused him to frown more. Such expressions, doors into the temple of his mind, were nothing if not a hindrance. “Some of my blades chipped back there. I must be getting rusty.”
Slowly, making sure to avoid the patches of mud damp with blood, he returned to The Wild Sect trio. Those looks he couldn’t identify, the same widening of the mouth and eyes that perplexed him beyond reason, frustrated Donovan. Nothing angered him these days — anger was an unpredictable tool, one too unreliable to allow into one’s arsenal. But at tiny moments like this, where the Old One’s teachings wiped away any understanding of things like emotion, he felt like he was grasping at straws.
Elmore’s explanation, which the clansman had kindfully supplied him, had opened up his understanding a little. They were ‘shocked’. Or he at least thought that was the correct term. Memories burst through the floodgates of Donovan’s mind at the concept. When he was younger, training within the floating Kingdom of Eclipse, his peers . . . it was difficult to recall. At the time, he had been so hyper-fixated on his training, on his training alone, but the other trainees his age, those of other sects, seemed distinctly . . . what was it again? Shocked? Maybe amazed? Or was horrified the right word? Something along those lines.
Emotions do nought but addle the mind. The conclusion comforted Donovan. Perhaps that was why the Old One, and the other elders upon their great hovering thrones, discouraged such distractions.
Yes, it was better to stay out of areas that muddled his thoughts like that. Donovan inhaled with precise, exact movements, centering his focus.
The mission. The Chaos Clan was upon them.
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Donovan watched as Elmore shook himself back to reality, strolling over to him. They coughed quietly into a fist. “I know this may be a little late to ask, but how exactly are we going to investigate the Chaos Clan? I don’t suppose they’d care to give us a tour, nor would instigating an attack be much good. And, I don’t know of your own abilities, but like I’ve said before, no one I know in The Wild Clan is cut-out for spywork.”
“Don’t concern yourself,” Donovan replied automatically. “Come a little closer, let me show you something.”
Elmore obliged him, raising an eyebrow in the process. What did that indicate? Donovan hadn’t ventured out of the Shadow Clan long enough to tell. With a flare of his Mark, and without the help of Infinity, he tapped the man’s shoulder.
Instantly the pair of them gained a gritty, monotone affliction. Like they’d been erased out of a world of colour. In more direct terms, they were shadows.
Ash gasped. “I didn’t know you were a part time magic act!” He laughed, which likely meant joy, eyes scanning where they were standing. He really couldn’t see them. “Show me a card trick, won’t you? We must have a deck lying somewhere around here.”
On the other hand, Koa was far less expressive than his brother. Observing, calculating, and above all, pragmatically critical. This, Donovan could understand. “That’s a neat trick. Only problem is that your shadows are visible.”
“That’s the flaw of the ability.” Donovan confessed. The elders back at the Cube might not approve of revealing the intricacies of his abilities, but these were his business partners; his comrades. They would work best together with a common understanding. “There are a few Marks that allow for disguising oneself — some of the Reptilian Sect for instance, can camouflage into their surroundings — but no deception is perfect. I can reduce the size of our shadows if I strain, like this-”
Their shadows silently reduced to a circle, no more than an inch in diameter each. “-but it quickly uses up my resources. But don’t worry. It’s not as striking as one may think.”
Rubbing his chin, Elmore mused. “Truth be told, I don’t recall the last time I took notice of the shadows around me.”
“And if we infiltrate at night,” Koa added, “it’ll be even harder to detect.” His lips widened in a smile. Pleasure, Donovan noted at the familiar gesture.
“That’s the plan.” Donovan reiterated. “We find some means of sneaking in, check for any form of security, and gather the info we need. And then . . .”
Ash frowned. “And then you tell me what card I'm thinking of?”
“And then.” Some vague impulse, a relic of his past, stretched the corners of Donovan’s mouth. It felt unnatural, but he stuck with it. “Pay day.”
“Pay day.” Elmore repeated, looking up blankly. It had begun to rain lightly, overpowering the scent of flung Ichor. A change of features, so slight Donovan doubted he would ever be able to discern its meaning, seized Elmore. It wasn’t a frown, which he understood enough to be sadness, but not the surefire display of delight that was something so simple as a smile.
Donovan had never laid his eyes on something that left him so utterly lost. Confusion paved the way for annoyance. Only slight annoyance, the sect’s training made sure any emotions were subconsciously quelled, but it was an irritant nonetheless.
“What’s on your mind, Elmore?” He asked of the man.
They ruffled the back of their hair. “It’s hard to explain. I am glad we’re almost here, the end of our journey, but everything is riding on this success. My future, and that of my cousins.”
Something seemed to click within Elmore, and he stood up straighter. Again, Donovan hadn't the slightest what that was meant to convey. He got the feeling he wasn’t doing something as simple as paying attention to his posture though.
“But I have confidence we’ll succeed.” Finally, a recognisable expression — a smile — returned to the man. “We make a formidable squad. Whatever Nova is hiding, it won’t be cast in shadow for long."
“No.” Donovan matched Elmore’s gawky smile. Once more, it felt strange, but a smidge less so. “It won’t be. We’ll make sure of that for certain.”
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The Pet-Keeper barely paid attention to the revolving tunnels, face set as he scoured for one room in specific. One chamber in this nexus of a maze. Here, there, and everywhere, miscellaneous rooms shifted like disassembled blocks; constantly rebuilding in new formations, new pieces, and new, delightful terror.
A trivial activation of his Mark, and the infirmary arose before him. He may have been the equivalent of a Warlord, but the Unbounded found his muscles tighten. His breath grew abnormally intense, like he had exchanged respiratory systems with a feeble human, and he just couldn’t shake a terrible gut feeling.
Heart heavy, the Pet-Keeper barged through the door.
It was a dimly lit expanse. Cobblestone walls, flooring, and a roof stretched around, with ample lighting provided by the occasional torch. The distinct, stuffy scent of dust pervaded through the atmosphere, wrinkling the nose, but the Pet-Keeper was too overwhelmed by sheer, unfiltered joy to notice. Past the tubes of bubbling liquids, the wiring cluttering the floor, and stretching over two of the medical beds, rested Daisy.
The Pet-Keeper was so moved, he had to wipe a tear from his eye. “Daisy . . .” The Unbounded gurgled back at him. “You’ve finally recovered, haven’t you!”
He leaped upon the mound of flesh, petting it in much the same manner mortals would a dog. But Daisy was something far more special than just a simple canine. Daisy was science’s greatest innovation. Once they worked out a few quirks, the ones that had harmed his precious companion would meet the grim demise they dearly deserved. Oh yes, not long now. It was all coming together.
“Am I interrupting?” A voice sounded from the back, regal and imposing. Precisely the sort of voice that the Pet-Keeper equated to nails on a chalkboard. Their name, too, seemed an insult to the continuing function of his ears.
On the contrary, most Unbounded names were like music to the Pet-Keeper. But even in this regard, Milap grated against him. So his human name it would have to be.
“Yes, actually, you are. Bugger off.”
Stepping out of the shadows, Milap stood at matching head-height. “Oh, please.” A series of scratches escaped his throat. The Pet-Keeper’s own name in their native tongue. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“Unbounded don’t have friends.” He scoffed. “Why did you really come here?”
Milap, amethyst armour shining like he himself was a crystal from some underground grove, sauntered a few steps closer. His aquiline features, roguish and untrustworthy, did nothing to appease the Pet-Keeper. He spoke the Unbounded tongue with the amateur inflection you would expect of Unbounded new to the holy crusade. Like he was always downplaying how much of a threat he really was.
“Quickly Milap.” He beckoned him, the human name sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the string of rough rasps. “I don’t have the time to stick around idly, while you stretch out whatever it is Nova has commissioned you with telling me. Speak now, before that pretty face of yours is mauled off.”
Milap chuckled, like something humorous had been said. The Pet-Keeper must have missed the joke. “As you request: Nova wanted me to tell you they’re coming.”
For one second, where the Pet-Keeper was the greatest fool in the cosmos, Daisy completely slipped his mind. Leave it to Nova to not give you any time to collect yourself. “Those two?”
“Who else?” Milap leaned against a wall lazily. “Nova tried to wipe them off the map himself, but the pair seem to have some sort of godly protection.” He shook his hands at the Pet-Keeper’s incredulous look. “No, no, not an actual deity — just a God-Graced at the most.”
“Who, out of everyone on this graveyard of Descent, would agree to risk Nova’s might? And just to protect an Enkindled and Foot-Soldier equivalent?”
“Emblazed, actually.” The man corrected, for some reason smugly. “But the ins and outs matter not. We just have to make sure they’re dead the second they arrive.”
It was at this moment that the Pet-Keeper realised he had discerned all the information needed. The topic of Daisy immediately seized his mind. “If that’s all the intruders you need to inform me about, then leave. You should have saved your breath and gone about your day normally — regardless of a pre-warning or not, the pair are as good as rotting corpses already. Nova himself will see to that.”
It was true. The gods had sealed their own fate the moment they had signed all those frivolous Oaths. It had given Infinity exactly the leeway it needed. Now the deities were occupied by divine servants equaling their own might easily, leaving less, but still terribly strong Unbounded like Nova to pull the rug out from under them. It was the perfect plan; infallible. Nobody fought the universe and won.
No matter how drunk on ambition you were.
“You only have to tell me once,” Milap grinned. “But once you’re done coddling that demon child of yours, why not share a feast on one of the lesser Unbounded with me? In celebration of tonight.”
Milap simply wouldn’t budge. What would it take to get the man to leave? Obliging him; stroking his ego? Yes, yes, that would send the man on his merry way.
“Perhaps I would be so inclined, but why?” He flickered a palm to the side, as if dismissing the event. “This brawl isn’t going to merit any sense of fun in the slightest.”
“True.” Milap nodded, “I might be overindulging myself here. But there’s one thing for certain. One thing I’ll make any excuse to celebrate.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
Inch-long teeth shuddered out of their mouth. “It’s going to be a bloodbath.”