I turned around, curious about how much of our conversation Zanh Kiem had overheard. Given that he's a Maker and a friend, I wouldn't mind even if he heard everything. I suspected he was eavesdropping from the start. After all, he's a former inquisitor, naturally inquisitive and drawn to other people's secrets, a lingering professional habit that's not easily shed. However, being the tactful sensum he is, he wouldn't broach the topic unless I initiated it.
"Do you think I was successful?" I asked Zanh Kiem, pressing my palm to Ketsu's forehead.
"You were," the Maker nodded. "Your intervention negated Ketsu's contract with his inner Beast." With that, he gestured towards the lake. "Let's return to the beach; best not to disturb the sleeper."
I readily agreed to his suggestion, grabbing a juice from the table. I wasn't particularly keen on the tea that the sensum would inevitably offer.
As we descended the stone stairs, I was deep in thought. Ketsu's story was tragic in many respects. It's hard to imagine growing up in such a family, a grim twist of fate. I can understand why he formed a pact with his Beast. A boy starved for attention could resort to even more reckless actions. I know this well, having been witness to numerous tragedies that stemmed from a desperate need for attention. One kid misstepped while walking on a building ledge. Another boasted he'd leap off the tracks just before a train passed but didn't make it in time. There are countless stories like these; Ketsu's act, while far from the most extreme, aligns with those I've personally witnessed.
As for Izao's father... It could be argued that he was a victim of circumstances. Bound by clan traditions and customs, he was forced to marry a woman he didn't love. His loyalty to the clan also barred him from being with the woman he truly loved. A tragedy? Without a doubt. But even this doesn't excuse Yoshihiro's treatment of his son. The child wasn't to blame for the complexities of his father's marital life. In Yoshihiro's favor, he didn't physically abuse Ketsu or take out his frustrations on him; he just neglected him. You can rationalize and explain away many things, but my opinion of this man remains decidedly negative. Regardless of what happens in our lives, the children near us should never bear the brunt of it.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Zanh Kiem asked me after we settled back onto the beach sunbeds.
"Not now," I candidly answered my friend. "Maybe later, someday, but not now."
"If you need to let it out, know that I'll always be here to listen."
"Thank you."
"Then let's revisit yesterday," said the sensum, watching a butterfly flutter over the water.
"To avoid repetition, what have others already told you?" I asked for clarification.
"What they told me isn't important now. I need your perception, your perspective," he said, turning his head towards me with a serious tone.
"So, should I start from the very beginning?" I sighed heavily.
"Exactly, from the moment you woke up yesterday."
I studied Zanh Kiem closely - he was earnest. After taking a deep gulp of juice to wet my throat, I commenced my story. A highly detailed account, as requested by the Maker, who was interested even in the type of tea I had for breakfast: black, green, or fruit. I didn't question why he needed such minute details; I simply recalled what I could and honestly answered "I don't remember" to those questions I couldn't.
"The appearance of the Eshin witch took me completely by surprise," I admitted. "I didn't anticipate such a turn of events. But I did expect Ketsu to show up in the evening, having accurately anticipated that young man's move. And this Mary..."
"Catherine," the sensum corrected me.
"What?" I didn't understand.
"Her real name isn't Mary, but Catherine," Zanh Kiem clarified. "We found some of Annabelle's notes then, and she mentioned her granddaughter, whose name was Catherine, not Mary." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Regardless, it's not so important now. The point is, we were under the impression that this granddaughter had been taken care of. Just before your kidnapping, at one of Eshin's secret bases, we confronted a formidable young witch. Needless to say, it didn't end well for her."
The Maker rose from his sunbed and began pacing back and forth in his usual manner.
"Catherine was exceptional. She hid herself well, utilized her powers on a small scale, and didn't cause any energy disturbances. No one suspected a thing," the sensum gestured dismissively. "That's one of the Dark Ones' strengths: as long as they don't feel invincible and start operating at full power, they're difficult to detect. I've spent months tracking some adepts a few times, and let me tell you, it wasn't easy. Even knowing that a Dark One is definitely 'active' in a certain city, finding said adept is an art in itself."
"You're slightly off with your 'no one suspected a thing'," I corrected him. "The projection technique that you encouraged me to learn is what saved us."
"Well, that's not quite it," he sighed, settling back into his seat. "I had no idea why you needed this technique, or what it was for. There was just this gut feeling, this necessity that seemed to come from the unknown depths of me."
"Whatever you call it, without that technique, Mary, or rather Catherine, would have carved us up with her unsettling blade."
"Stop dwelling on what could have happened, and focus on what did," Zanh Kiem responded, most likely quoting some Eastern philosophy. "Everyone's alive, and nearly all are in good health, or will be soon."
"Speaking of which," I said, pointedly glancing at my left hand, "I distinctly remember the witch slashing the Fox in the muzzle with that knife, but I didn't spot a scar on Ketsu's face."
"And so?" The Maker shrugged. "The knife was made of obsidian, not silver."
"But you mentioned it's an ancient artifact and all..."
"Ketsu is a shapeshifter," the sensum explained to me, as if I were a distracted schoolboy. "When they change form, most wounds heal immediately, unless they've been inflicted by silver, of course."
"I just thought that given the artifact's age..."
"Did you see a scar on Ketsu's face?" Zanh Kiem interrupted me. "No, you didn't. That's your answer."
I still can't wrap my head around how shapeshifting works. Accepting sensums, light and dark ones, and even the Break and raigs makes sense to me, but the phenomenon of shapeshifters... How can a person transform into a beast and back, all while keeping a sound mind even in beast form? How do their injuries heal? Why is only silver capable of inflicting permanent wounds on them? At least during the transformation process, the mass remains constant. If it didn't, my understanding of physics would drive me insane.
"By the way, it's a good sign," the Maker clarified, studying me closely. "The fact that you're asking these questions now is a good sign. It means you're not obsessing over yesterday... That happens after intense stress. Even the most disciplined people get fixated."
"I know," I confirmed, as I'd seen it in a previous life. Finishing my juice, I continued. "The witch mentioned she'd handle diverting the attention of other organizations."
"Yes," Zanh Kiem's mood seemed to dip at my question. "Five suicide bombers took hostages downtown; unfortunately, there were casualties. Plus, the dark zealots reemerged." He explained, seeing my puzzled expression, "Those who believe they can gain the powers of a sensum, albeit dark ones, through sacrificial rituals." The Maker shrugged. "Complete nonsense, but people will believe even wilder things. There was bloodshed there too."
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"What a monster!" I couldn't help but blurt out.
"Monster?" Zanh Kiem seemed taken aback by my outburst. "Just a Dark One. The Dark Ones think only of themselves, their principles, their goals. Yes, indeed, there are even Dark Ones who aspire to make the world a better place; trust me, they exist. It's just that their methods... Let's just say, are not only controversial but often bloody and ruthless. 'To make the world a better place, you just need to exterminate all the bad ones,' and so on. They stride toward their objectives over corpses, and this fact doesn't bother them in the least. They're utterly indifferent; they simply can't comprehend what's wrong with their actions. Yet, their methods often work. For instance, the smallpox vaccine was developed by a Dark adept. Mind you, he achieved his goal while sacrificing hundreds of people in his experiments. In this regard, they're not much different from the 'burnt-out' Light Ones. Only, if a Light One, consumed by their Idea, realizes they're doing evil, justifying it by asserting that their Goal is paramount, a Dark One simply doesn't see anything amiss in their actions..."
It seemed that Zanh Kiem was prepared to give me a brief lecture on this matter but abruptly decided against it. He tensed up, his face hardened, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed in intense focus. He wasn't looking at me, but rather in the direction of the villa. Just as I was about to inquire about what was transpiring, he swiftly raised his hand, displaying an open palm, signaling me to stay put.
With the grace of a jaguar, Zanh Kiem rose from the bed in one fluid motion and seamlessly transitioned into a low combat stance.
"This is unnecessary, young Maker," a familiar voice echoed from behind me.
Attempting not to make any abrupt movements, I slowly turned my head. Just as I suspected... Descending the stone steps toward us was none other than Abel de Diaz. What unsettled me most was that our unanticipated guest was dressed not in civilian attire but in the cassock of an inquisitor, and swaying rhythmically with his steps at his belt level, were the grips of revolvers.
"What have you done to my gatekeeper?" Zanh Kiem demanded of our unexpected visitor, disregarding the legate's comment and maintaining his stance.
"Did you sense it?" Abel seemed mildly surprised, continuing his descent. "I thought I executed it cleanly. Created his ethereal duplicate before..." The Inquisitor trailed off, making an ambiguous hand gesture in the mid-air.
"What. Happened. To. My. Gatekeeper?" The light sensum reiterated his question, barely parting his lips.
"He's asleep, merely asleep," the legate shrugged nonchalantly.
Having answered, Abel strolled past us, treating Zanh Kiem, who was battle-ready, as if he were a garden statue. He made his way to the water's edge and halted so that the tiny ripples of the lake barely touched the tips of his boots. After standing motionless for several seconds, the inquisitor turned to face us and, disregarding the Maker, bowed deeply before addressing me:
"I came to apologize, Sire."
"There was no need." I found myself mirroring Zanh Kiem's caution, the legate's presence causing a ripple of unease within me. A hint of fear too, though I couldn't fathom why.
"I let myself be duped by a mere youth." The Dark One grimaced. "Inexcusable... yet even more so is the fact that due to my error, you, Sire, were placed in grave danger."
"I didn't ask you to play bodyguard, Abel!" I retorted, perhaps more sharply than intended. My nerves were stretched taut, and it was showing.
Yet my heated words didn't faze the legate in the slightest; his face remained as impassive as ever, not a muscle twitching out of place.
"Care is not the same as protection, Sire," he stated.
His words seemed logical, but his interpretation of the term "care" grated on my nerves. This unflappable inquisitor, in demonstrating his "care," had already killed two shapeshifters. There was no telling how many more might fall victim. And from what Zanh Kiem had just told me, trying to convince Abel that his methods were too extreme was futile, to put it mildly. It was pointless, given that the legate was a Dark adept and saw the world through a different lens than most.
"Regardless," I responded, my words slow and deliberate, "it's unnecessary. I can take care of myself."
"The world is more perilous than it appears," countered de Diaz, brushing aside my protest. "And the sudden emergence of the witch in your life is only one aspect of this danger."
"I insist." I maintained my tone, not raising my voice. If he viewed me as his king, he should heed my command. Shouldn't he? I studied him, but found no certainty in his gaze.
"Sire..." Abel executed a small formal bow, a silent apology. "You are not merely a man, not just the reincarnation of the Last King. You bear two immense burdens, and to assist you in shouldering them is the sacred duty of any involved." His gaze locked onto Zanh Kiem.
The Maker met his gaze, muscles relaxing as he abandoned his fighting stance. He nodded in my direction, affirming the Dark Adept's statement.
"Two burdens..." I didn't ask, merely stated, stalling for time. But Abel promptly clarified.
"Saving the World and the Treaty."
His words hung in the air, and I had the distinct impression that the second point held more weight for him than the first. It was peculiar - what use was the Treaty if the world was destroyed?
"Without addressing the first issue, the second becomes irrelevant," I voiced my thoughts.
"You see, Sire..." For the first time since his arrival, Abel exhibited a hint of humanity. He bent down to pick up a pebble, skipping it across the lake's surface. "As a Dark One, I can't experience Enlightenment; it's fundamentally against my nature. A Dark One, unlike a Light, is a closed system, devoid of any subtle connection with the World. I may not have Enlightenment, but I can be certain of things. Experience, intellect, intuition honed over countless years - all these grant me such capability. So, you may laugh, but I am fully confident that you, Sire, will resolve the issue of saving the World." His words rendered me speechless. "I don't know how or when, but I know it will happen." A twitch in his eye. "Provided some fool or ignoramus doesn't end your life prematurely."
Perhaps his words should have flattered me, but they weren't really directed at me. After all, the legate had faith not in me, but in his king, El Cid Campeador.
"But... what I'm unsure of..." Abel de Diaz sighed heavily and looked away, "is whether, having accomplished your mission to save the World, you will return from it alive."
My throat went dry. It dried up because he had somehow miraculously read my thoughts. Ever since I realized that the Door I was searching for was in another dimension... I wasn't sure if the path to this mysterious Door also included a return ticket. I was rather inclined to accept the fact that I might not be able to return to the material world from the plane of Fantasy. And now, an inquisitor who had lived for more than two hundred years was voicing the same concern. It was enough to make my throat feel parched.
Lifting his head, the legate met my gaze and asked, "Sire, what will happen to the Treaty if you die before making a decision?"
"I don't know." Indeed, I hadn't thought about it.
"And what happens is that the Treaty, in this case, will be automatically extended." He seemed to say it with more emotion than he usually displayed. "This is the situation where silence is also a decision." Stooping down, Abel picked up another pebble and tossed it in his palm. "Sire, are you sure that this decision on the Treaty issue satisfies you entirely? Have you made up your mind? Are you renewing the Treaty and, with it, maintaining the essentially lower status of ordinary people in relation to shapeshifters?"
"I haven't decided yet!" Meeting his gaze, I firmly answered his persistence. "Moreover, neither of the solutions pleases me! I am not content with either the subjugation of people, ingrained in the World's energy structure, or with the outbreak of a total civil war. A war that would dismantle the world's infrastructure and logistics, leading to hundreds of millions, if not billions, of indirect casualties!"
"A war that will restore people's freedom," the legate added calmly, tossing the pebble in his palm once more.
"And you, Abel de Diaz, I see, already know your stance on the Treaty." I said, a hint of spite in my voice.
"I didn't hide it from you, Sire."
I remembered our last conversation - he truly hadn't concealed it.
"And you..." I began to speak but fell silent, afraid of unintentionally influencing the legate.
"I'm here only to ensure that you make an informed decision on the Treaty, Sire. That you make this decision before you depart to save the World. That you resolve this matter yourself and don't let it drift in silence." His voice hardened like steel. "Nearly a thousand years ago, you plunged people into servitude! Yes, saving them from a much worse fate, but that doesn't change the fact. It doesn't alter the fact that now you can revoke THAT decision! Or... Or leave everything as it is, if you believe that's the best course. Declare your decision while looking into my eyes, Sire. Look into the eyes of a man who has lived in this crippled world for over two hundred years. Because I, having witnessed what I have in my long life, have every right to demand this!"
"I'll address this issue when I'm ready!" I asserted, unwilling to let him pressure me.
"I'm merely trying to assist you," Abel sighed heavily. "To help you confront the truth, make a decision, and not postpone it for 'later'. Because that 'later' may never arrive."
"Make a decision right here, right now?" I retorted, my lips curling into a malevolent grin.
"Why not?" Abel responded nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders, then turning to the Maker who had been silently observing the conversation. "Young Zanh, would you come over here?"
The sensum pondered for a moment, then nodded to himself and approached the legate.
"Young Zanh," de Diaz spoke softly, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Take a good look at your guest, scrutinize him..."
Most likely, the Maker, like me, didn't comprehend what Abel was trying to achieve, yet he didn't dispute it. My only true friend in this world turned to face me and looked into my eyes.
There was a distinctive double click.
And then...
Two revolvers, with their hammers cocked, were pressed against the back of the Maker's head.
"You were poorly trained, young Zanh," the legate commented with a note of bitterness in his voice.