***************

Wyatt Graves

The dark has only grown colder. A growing unease surrounds me as I witness a blazing fire, the only thing in my mind’s deep night. The fire flickers wildly, and I can feel the heat singeing my skin as I watch it being altered by a parasitic force. The force pangs of hunger for blood, for destruction, for power. But above all, it hungers for survival.

It twists the flames, turning them from bright yellow to a worrying shade of orange. The fire dances and writhes under its control, almost as if alive.

The Bloody Palm; an artifact that hungers for blood and destruction. I can feel it burrowing deep into my mind. It is looking for ownership, and there is little I can do but will the flame to survive a bit longer.

The once-vibrant flames of my mind are now dimming and dying as the Bloody Palm’s influence spreads like a disease. Every thought, every emotion, and every memory is getting twisted and distorted beyond recognition.

I try to hold it at bay, but it is slowly seeping through.

The recent memories unlocked from Aniwye are turning a dozen times more twisted and full of blood as the artifact tries to break me. The old memories of happiness slowly fade, crumbling under its pressure. And all the while, the whispers. They reach for me with zombie-like insistence.

I try to push them away, to ignore them, but they grow louder and more insistent. They twist and turn, distorting my thoughts and warping my sense of reality. The whispers seem to have a mind of their own, driven by an insatiable hunger to consume my mind. Too often do I have a thought or attempt to defend the flame in front of me with Ironheart before I am ripped away by a malaise in my mind.

I know that if I don’t find a way to stop it all soon, nothing will be left of me. Nothing but a husk for the Bloody Palm to puppet as it wills.

*******************

Johnny Caldwell

It pains me to be as broke as I am, but it gives me some nostalgia. It’s been years since I was penniless and without a place to stay. My parents raised me with little fortune or fame in Vallens, but they gave me a safe place to call home. I miss it even if I don’t regret leaving to become a Hunter.

I’d go back and see them if only they hadn’t passed almost a decade ago. I take a deep inhale at the thought. It’s been a long time, but you only grow used to pain like that. It never stops hurting. Mom was a cheerful old lady even when I was young. My parents had me far too late for any siblings. Pops was a kind but harsh man and the only reason I wield a gun today.

My old man taught me to shoot when I could barely even speak. I’m thankful for it as I unload the standard bullets from my spare and load in the Beast-killing. Without a Colt to increase the base power of my ammunition, I need to have these prepared just in case.

The first lesson flashes past my mind in complete blurriness. All I can remember is my old man, a bald woodsman, smiling at me while loading a .22 rifle. The kind used for small prey like rabbits or birds. Past that, the only other thing is shooting it for the first time, being surprised by the noise and force, and being energized by the power. It’s been so long that even such a vital memory has faded almost into obscurity. But it was the start of it all.

From there, I shot more and more. By the time I was twelve, I could hit a bullseye at a hundred yards. Eighteen, five hundred yards. Now? Even without Ether, I could do a thousand-yard shot with some preparation. To most, that is simply impossible. But to me, it’s instinct.

I’ve shot probably close to a million bullets over my life. It doesn’t matter the gun. I wield them all the same. It has very little to actually do with my Ether. Most of my Sigil skills focus on strength, speed, or endurance, mainly speed, though. I am pretty plain, good at most, with few flaws, and without incredible Sigil skills, but my marksmanship pulls me up.

I need money to acquire supplies or ammo, but I am also unwilling to steal from any average store. Only if I spot one that is sketchy am I willing. Instead, I move through Carnal Hiern with a purpose. First, I need to search around Kai’s abode. Wyatt described Aniwye as an Ogre, a brand of demon with horns and a massive stature. Still, I wouldn’t be surprised if it had some way to infiltrate towns.

It specializes in the mind. Perhaps it could brainwash people to simply ignore it. In that case, I’d have to find it using small clues here or there. Mind manipulation is hard to detect or get around, but it’s not impossible. Careful observation can awaken you to what’s happening. With that Angel felled that focused on sleep and dreams, it could possibly even be in someone’s dream.

Wait! Is that it? Is that why it wanted to kill that creature? Could… that artifact let it enter dreams and travel like that? Shit. Shit. Shit! If that’s true, then Aniwye is already here!

Paranoid, my eyes scan the streets like a madman as some people move away from me. I look for any sleeping drunkard or homeless person on the wooden panel street. Only as I start scaring people do I realize myself.

Calm down, Johnny. Think this through. If your thoughts are correct, then to reach her, you need to sleep. And you need to do so before she strikes Kai. First, though, I must figure out if Kai is here. That will let me know if she is about to strike or not.

So, I quickly move through the city upon the trees as I head straight for the giant tree in the center. A massive cypress on which Kai Vinson’s near-mansion is built. All around is the ordinary wooden street, but several guards prevent any from approaching the mansion.

I bump into someone beside me and ask them to do something for me.

“Hey, will you go ask that guard if Kai Vinson is in town?”

The man I bumped into gets annoyed at my bothering him and the question I posited, but I use Deadeye’s Gaze and Commander’s Presence to scare him into submission. My early Lawman Sigils are coming in handy right now. The man’s knees buckle as he is an Unsigiled, but I hold him up and push him toward the guard. He trips a few times on his way there in fear, eliciting guilt from me. I steel my gaze and watch, however. It has to be done, though. I can’t risk the guards recognizing me.

Few everyday citizens would, but a guard of the Rougarou Hunter might.

I watch the man walk up from far away as my Deadeye’s Gaze can enhance all my senses, not just my eyes. I lean a bit into it further with my Ether to hear a bit clearer. The man sounds scared, but I cannot do much about that as he questions the guard with a rifle. The man does seem to gain his courage halfway through it, however.

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“S-s-sir! Do you know if the Rougarou Hunter is in town? Or is he off hunting the wetdogs in the swamp?”

The guard looks down at him from his tall stature. The man is obviously arrogant because of his position, so he replies gruffly as he shrugs the rifle.

“What’s it to you? The boss ain’t ’round today.”

“A-a-h, no reason!”

I can see the man shiver in fear before backing off and moving straight toward where I talked to him. But I’m not an amateur. I walk away with the information unseen with my head down, hands in my pockets, and cigarette in my mouth that I slipped from someone’s open hands.

He’s not here. That’s good. I don’t know how long he will be gone, but just that he is not here in Carnal Hiern right now is good. I have some time to find Aniwye before she even gets the chance to strike.

I can try to find a Mentalist somewhere in this city or go back and slip the new thoughts to Anton. The latter is probably better to start with. Wait. Maybe not. His informants are primarily ordinary people, with some low-Sigiled between 1st and 2nd and a few mid-Sigiled between 3rd and 4th. It’s one thing to notice being manipulated while you’re awake. But frankly, it’s nigh impossible for low-Sigiled or regular people to realize it.

Finding a Mentalist might be better in this case. They might be able to search the collective consciousness in the area to find anything abnormal in dreams or waking minds. Anton will find Aniwye if she is not in someone’s mind or dream, and this Mentalist and I will find her if she is.

There will be a considerable risk to whoever does this, though. I can’t imagine Aniwye, a demon at the level of an Angel, enjoying someone messing in her domain. But how else is Wyatt to find her should he show up? Does all he need to do is sleep? Probably. Suppose the two warring Angels could reach him in the Underworld. In that case, Aniwye can likely contact him once he gets reasonably close.

It just keeps all leading up to buying time, huh?

My feet stop abruptly as I carefully slide into an alley behind me. I feel comfortable that no one is possibly following me, so I can have time to think more carefully. A powerful Mentalist, one at least strong enough to enter sleeping minds from a considerable distance or the collective consciousness in an area… Hmm… Are there any in Carnal Hiern?

My brain runs through a few names, but I cross them all out for either not being strong enough or simply not being here. Nicolas Sime, the Minder. I believe the man moved to Vallens a few years ago to join Marshall. Manuel Sutton, the Soothe. I think he’s not up for the task, even if he’s famous around here. The man is only a 4th Sigil, and he focuses on removing pain and healing people physically. I’d take Wyatt to him if only Birdie didn’t say trying to heal him was pointless.

Another name is Tori Tangne, but she’s not in Carnal Hiern. Even if the Mindweaver is in Sinscreak, she’s simply too far away. Who then? Is there no one here that fits the requirements? Strong, specialized in the mind, and in Carnal Hiern?

Wait. There is. Kai Vinson’s wife.

“Motherfucker.”

The words come out of my mouth without realizing it as I push myself off the wooden wall in the alley. My feet lead me out and back toward Kai’s mansion, built upon the giant cypress in Carnal Hiern. Thankfully, plenty of other people are going about their lives that I’m not noticed, but the notion of what I have to do pisses me off so much.

Kai married Myra Grimes, the Thoughtkeeper, a daughter of one of the largest Estates, six years ago. It was a massive event because it meant the newly advanced Pillar was under the wing of an Estate. Only two Pillars aren’t at this point. Maddox and Marshall. Some say Howard too, but he bends when called. The first two don’t.

Some people theorized that Kai was brainwashed into it, but that was not true. Those who thought so are too low in strength or importance to know the truth. The Grimes’ Arca is an arrowhead, the Flinter. The 7th Sigil artifact is famous and came from a Pygmy Architect slain by a loose arrow almost a century ago. It’s why they are one of the biggest weapons manufacturers in all Territories. The Arca can sharpen weapons, make bullets more dangerous with shrapnel, or even reinforce armor with the sparks that break off the arrowhead. And that’s simply the sparks that come off from it being waved around.

It’s also a big reason why Kai is so dangerous. He had his spear personally sharpened by a great Craftsman from the Estate using the Flinter. The man is young, skilled, and armed with a dangerous weapon. Regarding Pillars, I’d say he’s in the upper echelon of strength despite not even being forty. The Prime, Marshall, Ed, and Maddox are the only ones more powerful than him. The others are weaker or more supportive in nature, like Eli Weiss, who, despite being an 8th Sigil, is not that powerful in combat. The Underground Tree is known for his foresight, inventiveness, and healing capabilities. That’s why he governs the Timberlands, which borders almost every frontier Territory.

But as far as I know, Myra doesn’t join Kai in his hunts, for the man likes to fight alone. That’s simply the kind of man he is. Before he married her, he went out to hunt almost constantly, but he seemed to have slowed down terribly after. So, I figure the Estate and his wife slowly got him into doing it less because it’s risky, and they were unwilling to lose their Pillar.

What that means for me is that Myra is in his mansion. And I need to somehow get her to help me. Hell, Myra might even be capable of saving Wyatt’s mind. She is a 6th Sigil, after all. Wow. Today’s really been a thinking day, huh?

Perhaps I don’t even need Aniwye to save him. But she is the only one who has a reason to help, even if she is a demon. She’s shown prior care and kindness over Wyatt by saving him. But Myra is a well-known bitch, to say the least. So getting her to help will be more complicated than persuading a demon.

That’s not even counting the fact that the only way for me to meet her on such short notice would be sneaking in. But in the end, she’s part of the system I want to destroy, right? No entities like the Estates should exist, massive conglomerates of influential people who only allow themselves and other Estates to grow stronger. They try to assimilate anyone powerful, just like what happened to Kai.

Only Marshall has resisted their attempts, and that resistance led partially to his name, the Unyielding Wall. Maybe… maybe this is where I start taking it all down. I won’t be as brutal as the Resistance in the East. The Resistance, Myriad, their leader, and all those who fight for it are infamous for their brutality. Still, it is only in response to the same brutality of the Estates. I just can’t bring myself to that level, however. It might be cowardice, but I’m not willing to kill any that get in my way or torture for information, especially if the target is a non-combatant or a child. I have standards that I am not willing to cross.

So, with a partial goal in mind, I begin to stake out and observe Kai’s mansion, looking for any sign of a way in.

The mansion is built upon the giant cypress tree smack dab in the middle of Carnal Hiern. Now that I’m paying attention, it is an impressive sight. The cypress tree is enormous, with a thick trunk that rises high above the surrounding wooden cityscape. The mansion is built upon the tree’s upper branches, resting upon sturdy stilts that secure the structure. From the design comes several bridges out in every cardinal direction from the mansion that connect it physically to the wooden roads upon the stilts.

The mansion’s exterior is ornate and grand, with large, arched windows that offer views of the surrounding swamp. The walls are made of a pale, weathered stone that contrasts beautifully with the dark wood of the cypress tree. It also contrasts heavily with all the other buildings in the city. The roof is tiled with elegant shingles that glint in the sun, and several chimneys rise from its surface, trailing thin wisps of smoke into the air. It is evident that someone from an Estate lives here, and even more, so that a Pillar does.

The streets surrounding the mansion are a series of large wooden panels upon stilts that wind their way through the swampy terrain. The boards are weathered and worn, with deep grooves and knots that add character to their rough-hewn surfaces, but the second they connect with the wood of the mansion, they turn waxed and new. Guard posts are set up along the length of the panels, and several guards stand watch, alert for any signs of danger. There are two at each entrance into the mansion’s courtyard. Unfortunately, the branches and leaves of the cypress prevent me from seeing anything close to the ground, like the main door.

Looking a bit closer and circling the mansion carefully with Deadeye’s Gaze, I find a single, double door made of marble that acts as an actual entrance. A man with a revolver on his hip and one on a table in front of the door he sits at is guarding the proper door. That man must be at least reasonably powerful. Humans are complex to gauge exactly with Deadeye’s Gaze because we don’t expunge Ether naturally, but intuition still works.

That’ll be an issue. I need to get past him somehow. Above through the trees? No. That’s too noisy, and I’ll be seen. I’m no expert in stealth, so that’s a no-go. Below? That’s possible, but I’d have to somehow get in without being detected. However, I find that possibility hard to believe if I break in through the house’s foundation. The center also would just end up with me fighting my way through.

Maybe I slow down a bit. I’m in a hurry but can’t afford to mess up. I brought these books up from the Underworld. Perhaps one will be able to help? I’m unsure how, but I’ve wanted to look at the Journal Of Timesplicing and Enclosed Fists for a while now. I move away from the building and flip through the books quickly, using Deadeye’s Gaze to read and understand the information faster in the former.

The information at first is not that useful, just the man, Remington Shaw, detailing his experience with his Power, Horowatch. It let him skew time for one minute a day, making it slower or faster for himself. It was drastic enough to reach an eighth to eight times magnification, but only in the general area of a mile. The Power was based on his wrist, and it could shatter the wrist if he pushed it to the very limit.

But over time, he learns the limits of his ability. And the ways to bypass them. He realized he could slice up the minute with enough focus, using a single second or even a fraction of a second later. This effectively increased his limit by a whole order of magnitude without the power actually growing.

This concept could be of use to me, but not right now. If I can figure out a way to keep from using the whole Golden Eye and just slip a few milliseconds back at a time, the advancement would be huge.

Actually, that does hold a vast mountain of potential. Even now. If I could somehow turn time back in small chunks while making my way inside the mansion, I could remain undetected. Only one problem. I’m not good with my Ether like that, and I don’t know how to transfer his experience to mine.

But there is only one way to improve; to try.