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CYRUS
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Fear flooded his veins. No, push it aside. There's plenty of time to worry later—
The sword's cold razor edge pressed against one of his carotid arteries. Sweat dripped down from his temple, though he wasn’t necessarily nervous for his life. These illusions…this power…
Cy turned his neck toward the blade’s source. The icy steel slid across his flesh but didn’t cut into him. Yet. The painter held the sword.
“I suggest you all come inside, eh?”
Cy felt the most reassurance he’d ever felt. He was filled with unyielding confidence and trust, despite his circumstances. It was almost…trancelike. Like the allure of becoming an Alter. “It’s OK, guys. You can come inside.”
“Don’t move, Cy,” Jules said. "He has you trapped in a Calm Rune."
"No, Jules. It's not a spell." I'm just finally next to an Alter.
“We will come inside, but only if you promise not to hurt him.”
“You are in no bargaining position. Eh, Wrath?" The painter smiled.
Of course. He’s not interested in me… Man, I wish I was Arcanic, too. I'm not special. I'll just have to show him my Skills, my worth, then.
“I can’t explain it, but you can trust him. Just come inside.”
“You are in a trance, you fool." Whiskers waddled in first. "We do not trust you, painter, but we have no choice but to rescue this idiot.”
“That hurts, but I appreciate your courage,” Cy said. The others followed the Familiar inside.
SLAM!
The door shut behind them and then disappeared. The painter’s smile crept into a wicked grin.
"You are all fools." The painter pressed his blade into Cy's throat and wrenched it across the boy's throat. Jules reached out—Envy shouted—
Red liquid squirted out and oozed down Cy's chest.
But Cy just felt a slight tickle instead of pain. The blade had transformed into the bristles of a paint brush. Cy gripped his throat and coughed and heaved for air.
I'm—OK? Their jaws dropped, except for Whiskers'.
“Oh man. You guys should have seen your faces!” The Alter burst out laughing and fell back into a bag chair. Tears streamed from his eyes, and Cy was still in awe. Jules and them look ready to kill, though.
Cy wiped some of the red paint away. This is…
“Eh, what's the matter?” The painter still bore an arrogant grin. “You lot have been skulking out there for ages. I had to prove to you that I wasn’t going to hurt you. All I want is a private audience.”
"This is Ink. Forged and Enchanted," Cy whispered.
“I’m not even sure you can hurt us,” Envy said. “Your dirty illusions seem to be the only talent you have.”
The painter reached for a canvas, tossed it in the air, and slashed at it with his paint brush. In an instant, it transformed into a different sword—a claymore this time—and then back to a paint brush, before the stroke was even complete. The canvas landed in two pieces, with two new perfectly straight edges. He leaned back further into his chair and winked at her.
He’s incredible. Cy released his neck and stood up. “You’re an Alter, aren’t you?”
The painter glanced at Cy. His grin receded and he no longer looked amused. This is the first time he’s truly acknowledged me. The man’s eyes changed colors as he spoke. “That is correct—Eh, technically speaking. I’m sorry I didn’t include you in the illusory fun. Your feline friend here—yes, you, Whiskers, was it? Your theory was correct. I could only show this place to Arcanics, which I am sorry to say that you are certainly not. It wasn't until I heard your name from your friend over there that I was able to add you into my little show.”
He pointed to Cy's portrait, which also had some Sylvan Rune etched into it.
“So even names have Runes. And you added mine to your Script.”
“Yes…and no.” The painter tilted his head up as he studied Cy again. But he shifted his attention back to the Sins. Was he impressed with my question, or is he belittling me more? “Now, you two. I’ve kept your identities safe, and I’ve passed on my opportunity to cause you harm—twice, actually—when clearly I could have. I hope I earned at least some trust from you. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but before we dive in, I have one. Just one. For now.”
He fixated on Envy. Damn. Wish I could ask him questions. I wonder what knowledge an Alter would seek.
“Why did you save us?” Jules asked, point blank.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Tsk tsk." The painter wagged a finger. "No more questions from your group until I receive my answer.”
“I will make you say it." Envy spat her words. The painter sighed.
“Fine." He pointed his paint brush at her. "Which Arcanic are you?”
Interesting. He didn’t immediately assume she was a Sin, so he must think there’s a chance that she’s a Virtue. Cy looked at Whiskers. So if he doesn't know, then…
Whiskers rubbed against Envy’s legs. Odd, I’ve never seen him do that to her before. It’s always Jules or her father. Even Envy looked down at the cat, clearly surprised. Then she looked pleased, and then even happy. Oh no, Kat. You gave it away. The Painter smiled.
“So you are Envy, eh? The First Deadly Sin.”
Envy's jaw dropped. “No, I, uh—” Whiskers’ hackles rose, and he flashed fangs again.
Reading you like a book. Cy glanced at the bookshelf again.
“You can’t fool the Master of Illusions, Cat. Trying to mask her true nature by giving her affection. But it backfired. Her reaction revealed how rare that must be, and more importantly…how much she desires it.” Ouch. Tell me about it.
“So Virtues' Familiars' can speak, too, then?” Cy asked.
“Cy,” Jules snapped.
"How'd you arrive at that conclusion?" The painter addressed Cy again.
"Jules said my name earlier. That's how you got it. But you asked Kat which Arcanic she was. Not which Sin she was."
"Careful, Cyrus, or you’ll reveal yourself as well." Cyrus…?
“I have questions for you now, if you’re ready," Cy asked. He felt Jules’ rage directed right at him. Or his Wrath. Envy has recoiled into herself, probably afraid of her secret getting out for the first time.
“To answer your question before, Wrath—”
“My name is Jules.” He stepped in between the painter and Envy. Ignored again.
“Eh, of course. To answer your question before, Jules, I didn’t save you to protect your identity. You already screwed that pooch. I saved you two simply because I want to use you. Both of you.”
But not me. He's starting to sound like an arrogant prick.
“Use us how?”
“I am a painter, yes, but I am also a broker. A broker of knowledge—and before you get angry, I won’t tell anyone who you are. Any of you.” Even looked at me, there. Cy felt a sense of pride. “Not because of some sense of delusional, distorted morality or higher duty, but because it gives me an advantage. A strong one, at that." He shook his brush at Jules.
“You may be the only Sin known to all of Salvatica right now, but you are certainly not the only one known to powerful people. Next question—and you may sit. I expect we’ll be here for a while.”
“What about Greed and Sloth?” Jules asked.
“Eh, those two. It is a shame, but I lost whiff of their scent long ago, as did the Maidens. And…others.”
“Which Alter are you?” Cy asked.
“Cy,” Jules said slowly. “Not now. You’ve already said too much.”
Jules…you are getting in the way of my dream here. I get it that you’re pissed about Envy, but he already knew. The damage was done, and denial will get us nowhere. Cy walked over to a chair and dragged it slowly behind him. It screeched the entire journey. “Fine." Cy plopped down into the chair. "I’ll wait until you’re finished.”
“What do you want from us, then?” Oh look—Kat’s back. “To use us for, and if we refuse?” OK, maybe she's not fully back…
“Like I said,” the painter took a deep breath and looked back to Cy, “I am a broker of knowledge. Some of my…contemporaries…believe that Actions and Factions are what shape this world—You can’t spell Faction without Action!—the idiots.”
He’s looking at me for a reason…why? Actions and Factions…
Oh! Duh.
“But I believe that knowledge is what shapes the world. This world, anyway. Concentrated knowledge.” He must not be a part of any Factions, which would just leave Clementine. But she’s a chick… "Undemocratized knowledge to be used to one’s advantage against someone more prone to action. Where the deck is forever stacked in one’s favor, and where another man’s action can lead to their own downfall. What I want from you—from all the Arcanics, truly—is simply the knowledge of your unique Scripts." Just like a true Alter.
Jules reached for his heart. Envy played with the hair trailing from her left ear.
“Jules, Kat. Stop playing his game. He just compared this to a card game, and you’re literally giving your hands away.”
“Ha! You are very astute, Cyrus.” Suddenly, Cy could see the painter’s body was glowing with tattoos all over. They must have been hidden before. The lights dimmed down from the ink and his eyes. Those don’t look like normal tattoos. Cy inspected the dried red Ink on his hands.
“No more tricks, on my Alter’s honor. See? I would like to see your Scripts in action, though. I’d pay a heavy price for that intel. I’ve lived a long life—many lives, since I’m being so candid." He flashed another look at Cy. "And of all the rare Runes I’ve collected, nothing comes close to the rarity of your Scripts—”
“You keep saying Scripts.”
“Cyrus, it is considered rude to interrupt a lecture—but yes. I do not know what to call them. Scripts. Runes… Seals? What I do know is that they are truly one-of-a-kind. Not even your opposite Virtue shares the same Script." Jules and Envy looked at each other. “Now, the last part of your multifaceted question: should you refuse…? Well, I am a broker, so I don’t expect knowledge for nothing. I have an offer to make.”
Cy studied his friends. Jules stood with clenched fists. Whiskers stood in front of Envy. He glared at the painter through narrowed cat-eyes. Envy couldn't help but touch her left ear every few seconds. Only Cy and Rukia sat—and she looks as though she could nod off.
“What’s your offer then?” Jules asked.
“I will train you two, and your Familiars, in the Inked Arts and continue answering all of your questions until I am satisfied having seen your Scripts in action.”
Cy felt the sting of exclusion, but had a new clue to solidify his theory.
“The Inked Arts," Cy said. "Those books, your tattoos… This used to be a publishing house, didn’t it?”
“I expected you to ask that question much sooner.”
“A man who can freeze people. A secret house ordinary people can’t see. A man with painted-on Ink instead of needled tattoos. I suspected it at that point. But then you mentioned the Inked Arts. You practically flaunted it. Why?”
“So you’re the author we’ve been looking for?” Jules exclaimed.
"Eh, once upon a time. I have evolved from Ink on paper to Ink on canvas. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, you know."
“How do you know Isolda?” Cy asked.
“Isolda, eh? So that’s how you heard of me. An illustrious student of mine, from…before.” Before what?
“The Fateful Night?”
“You should keep this one close to you, Jules." The painter pointed his brush at Cy.
“And far from you,” Jules replied. The painter laughed.
“To help persuade you, I know over 10,000 Runes.”
Ten-thousand!? I’ll never get another shot to learn from an Alter. How do I convince Jules to run with this?
“I know you’ll want to discuss it with each other. If you decide to take my offer, then show up at West Beach tomorrow. The Hydromages are having tryouts. I want to see you in action, and get a baseline for your…talents.” Last chance, can’t let him leave yet. “I’ll see you then.” The painter stood up, his entire body aglow, and he disappeared. Shit! I can’t let him escape, need to show him I’m worth training—
“I know you’re still here.” Cy activated his Light Rune on impulse, without speaking it. He saw a shadow that shouldn’t have been there, and he reached for an arm and gripped it tightly.
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