Chapter 65-
There were no insects in Queen’s Box, he had personally ordered that all of them be exterminated when the underground was renovated. He had gone so far as to develop new lures to draw them to a select few locations in case any slipped through the reinforced entrance from the ground level.
His chamber at the prison’s center was a dim, cavernous room with countless chains hung from the ceiling, surrounding his meek throne. Queen was among the first of Bach’s children, growing to maturity within years, any further aging rapidly decreased. Bach’s unique ability to form beings from the aether using his Rach was inherited in some way by Queen; the insight granted by his Vocation, Love Shop, gave him some ability to tinker with spirit elements, and the caliper he created allowed him to better manipulate whatever he pleased.
The chamber had a single entrance and clear walkway to the center; he had made sure that there was as much space as possible to hang his specially-developed chains from the ceiling, each one acting as a spirit-sensitive radar. Etched into the floor was a series of ever-widening circles radiating from the center, where his throne was placed. These markings gave him a better reference to control the area the chamber represented, all he needed to do were some quick calculations and he could easily expand the range to the size of the city, or even a few miles beyond that.
As the first of Bach’s new Children of Despair, Queen was let free into the world, only to return six decades later to become an eternal servant to his creator; armed with knowledge of the world, he decided that there was no better role than this. He detested the way that human beings lived, like the world was chaotic when he saw the purity of mathematics in every stone.
A few concepts did stick with him, however. In the east, he had been introduced to the hikki-jai frog and feather spider. The feather spider would descend from its web above a pond to catch prey near the surface; when they touched the surface of the water, they created ripples which alerted the hikki-jai frog to launch its tongue from just below. Queen modeled his chamber after this relationship, and thought of himself as quite the predator.
Understandably, if a single fly brushed against a chain, it risked sending him into a state of false alarm, perhaps ironic, for someone who placed himself into the seat of a frog.
When he was not meditating over his calculations, Queen saw fit to experiment with the form of life Bach had instilled in him. Pieces of mannequins were scattered at his feet and all around the room; arms, hands, legs, and connecting joints made all too uncomfortable to the casual observer by some of them having an uncanny, fleshy warmth. Then again, there were no casual observers down here.
The door opened, and an attendant with short blond hair and deadened eyes entered with a thin book tucked beneath his arm. He stepped through the forest of chain links with a rehearsed ease. Queen’s eyes, drooping as he worked, rose without changing until he saw who it was.
“Ah, Etern,” his voice had a satin quality. “What news do you have?”
From up close, he could better see that the right-hand side of Etern’s face did not match with the rest. There was a noticeable break where his skin suddenly became paler and smoother; while both his pupils were blue, the right sclera was black.
“The correspondence with General Monaco,” Etern said with a soft reverence for Queen.
“Yes...”
“I am afraid that I was perhaps reckless with the amount of information I disclosed to him.”
Queen sat up. “Tell me what you mean.” He leaned forward a half-inch, propping one elbow on the arm of the seat and bringing his other hand up so that its fingertips met the other. He had inquisitive, neutral eyes that were examining the servant so closely it made him nearly squirm.
“Sir…” Etern spoke with as much formal confidence as he could muster. “The General asked for the whereabouts of Inquisitor Haunt, and I informed him of the Inquisitor’s schedule, including the times and dates he would be here.”
Queen let a quiet, chesty laugh make its way to his throat.
“Etern…” he mused. “There’s nothing wrong with being too eager to please.”
They stared at each other for only a second before Etern’s anxiety faded away. Queen noted the return of confidence and thought it was much like how a child worries that their parent will suddenly disown them for a mistake; how wonderful, to know that your father isn’t angry.
“I’m sure you were simply caught up in trying to give him all the information you could, and I applaud you for it. However…”
Etern’s expression dropped again, and he swallowed on instinct.
“Inquisitor Haunt’s routines are not to be known by anyone outside of the Inquisition. General Monaco has not revealed his intentions, has he?”
Etern shook his head meekly. “No, sir.”
“And you know that Inquisitor Haunt is not always the most rational of people if he has no one to guide him, correct?”
“Yes sir.”
“And we have not contacted him to make him aware of the General’s interest?”
By this point, it was painful, like rubbing a sliced lemon over a paper cut, but Etern could only respond.
“No, sir.”
Queen’s lips stretched to touch his ears, and he blinked slowly and with intentionality. “You’re aware of what the punishment is?”
Etern nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Queen leaned back against the back of his seat and interlocked his fingers. “Good, I’ve been curious about the lungs recently, I think I’ll see those.”
Without a word, Etern unfastened the clasp around his uniform and opened it to reveal his chest, still entirely human. Queen’s smile bent, and his eyes took on a new gaze, not of an authority figure, but like a hungry animal. He lifted his right arm and extended his fingers, reaching out to his servant.
“[LOVE… MARKET]...”
His hand surged forward like an arrow, and a horrid thick, wet sound could be heard.
Minutes later, Queen was sealing up a suitcase for later study. Etern was still standing, but barely; a small purple spot in his chest was all the external proof of the removal.
“That’s excellent…” Queen cooed to the case. “This will do me just fine, you’re a very healthy person, you know that?”
Etern heaved, his breathing labored. “Of course… sir…” he said, in his characteristic softness.
Like a pleasant housewife, Queen laid the case on his lap. “You may return to your post now; you are dismissed. I’d advise against informing any of the others about what has happened here; simply tell them that I reprimanded you and that you are feeling ill.”
“Yes, sir…” he whispered.
From the back of the room, a sound, so subtle it was barely audible, rang out. Immediately, Queen grabbed the arm of his throne and threw his gaze into the direction of the noise.
“That’s…” he trailed off before glancing at the tablet of calculations at his side; finding the correct one, he reigned in the range of his radar. Within a few moments, several chains began to shiver.
“My God…” he muttered. “Is this…?
---
The bird flapped wildly down the hall, trying and failing to break free from the string around Gruse’s finger.
“You’re sure this thing’ll get us to who we need?” Myst huffed.
“I have a feeling whoever it takes us to will get us both where we each need to go,” Sonsee answered, impressed that they were keeping up with her pace.
Below the massive spire that the Heavensward Gladial had become known for was a four-story building not unlike a lavish hotel. Portraits of important Church leaders adorned the white walls trimmed with wood. Anyone not wearing the sandals of a priest would make clicking noises against the dark stone tiled floor, though the flapping and squawking of the bird would have made an ant’s approach known.
The first priest to investigate the loud crashing sound discovered a hole in the south wall of the building, and upon crouching down to inspect the damage, found steam rising off of the bricks, which looked like they had been melted. Immediately, he ran off in the direction he came, the only one he knew he wouldn’t run into the invaders, and cried for help to a superior.
Turn after turn, the four invaders followed the call of the bird, knocking away unsuspecting priests and throwing themselves through doorways. It was noon on Saturday, when Urodelic Mass was held, and thus the halls were largely empty as most men of God were busy observing the ceremony as performed by His Holiness Bach in the city’s central church.
A closed parasol bobbed at Mara’s side as she strode down the hall, looking for the mess hall. She rarely got hungry, but when she did, she preferred to eat alone. Before she knew it, she turned a corner and was sent into high alert by the four strangers barreling towards her.
Gruse was the first to grind to a halt at the front of the group, stopping the rest with her. They fixed their gazes on Mara, who looked like she’d seen a ghost.
“You…?” She studied Sonsee for a moment with something equating respect for taking up her challenge. Sonsee, in turn, planted her foot in the ground. Eroh felt a little excitement build in his chest, burning for a fight.
Within seconds, Mara had sized up the situation and grabbed the handle of her parasol. Her hands moved quickly to grab and extend her parasol, laying it against her shoulder before activating the pendant around her neck. The hallway became a wind tunnel, blowing Mara backwards in the direction she had come.
When she was a good enough distance away that she didn’t feel the need to watch her retreat, she paused the winds and pivoted around to see where she was going. Skipping off the ground with the weight of a feather, she made a quick headway towards the telegram which allowed for communication between floors.
“Just a few more turns…” she reminded herself, having not anticipated a fight-or-flight scenario that day.
In the blink of an eye, she was face-first in a man’s black jacket.
“Uf!” she grunted, peeling herself off of him. Mara was now looking up into the eyes of Ky Monaco.
“G-General!” she blinked wildly.
Ky examined her for a moment with an inquisitive eye. “You’re one of the Inquisition leaders, aren’t you?”
Mara’s heart was pounding, estimating how much time before the invaders caught up.
“I am,” she chirped, speeding through her words. “You should know that right now-”
“I’m looking for your colleague, Jericho Haunt,” Ky cut her off. “He’s supposed to be here today, isn’t he?”
Mara quickly tightened her fist to feel the crack of her fingers, releasing some tension.
“General Monaco,” she began with enough authority and dire emotion in her voice to make him listen closely. “Right now, there are four criminals who have broken into the building-”
“What?” It took Ky a moment to register.
“If you can, hold them off,” Mara ordered. “I’m going to call for help.”
Her dainty appearance made her seem all the more helpless to him, what with her frilly dress and twin-tailed hair, he felt obligated to help out of a chivalrous soldier’s senses.
“Don’t worry,” he nodded in affirmation. “I’ve got it.”
“Thank you, General,” she smiled sweetly and ran off. Ky was so caught up in the sudden emergency that he forgot to wonder why she had a parasol open indoors.
Mara’s boots pounded the floor, processing what had happened to best explain the situation to Queen.
“Was that Dazey-?” The question raced through her mind. “What did she do?!”
---
Ky almost lost his composure when he saw the intruders.
“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Who are you?”
Gruse practically spat, “Who are you?”
Ky turned his head a quarter and placed his hand on the hilt at his hip, standing a good ten feet from them. “Ky Monaco, commanding general of the New Hopeland Unified Army, if you want, I could wipe you off the face of the Earth.”
Eroh pushed Myst and Sonsee aside to take a step closer. His upper body was postured forward like a wolf squaring off against its rival.
“No…” Sonsee put her hand on his shoulder without thinking. “I don’t think he’s playing.” Her eyes were laser-focused on Ky, watching him through her spirit sense, picking up on his scent; it was like the static in the air before a gigantic thunderstorm, the type she would see during the summers on the coast of her village.
Myst and Gruse shot unnerved looks at her, not for her warning, but because she was denying Eroh a fight.
Eroh, likewise, flashed her a disdainful expression and shrugged her off.
“Now,” Ky repeated. “Mind telling me who you are?”
A speck of drool oozed from Eroh’s bottom lip. “I’m not into names these days…” he whispered with a low, hungry tone that chilled one to the bone; he raised his claw, dripping with venom. “Just get this.”
Ky’s mouth twisted into an excited, quivering grin; this was not the fight he’d come for, but it was one that had grabbed his interest.
“Take another step,” he said, eyes sharpening.
Myst held his arm against Sonsee. “Careful,” he murmured. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Faster than the eye could see, the gap between them closed. Eroh’s fingers were stopped by Ky’s black winged rod, which he had named Ishtar. Ky swung him off and whipped the bar in his direction.
“[IRON MAIDEN]!”
For a split second, one could see an intense, crackling energy form around him before it was channeled into a raging blast of lightning off of his Ishtar. Instantly, the walls of the hallway were scorched black as the paint was fried to ashes that danced in the air. Ky was blinded, but he kept his eyes ahead as the smoke cleared and his vision returned, not content in his victory until he could see a body or a pile of dust.
Eroh almost slipped through his sight, lying flat on his back, knees pointed up before he rotated off of them to pop up into Ky’s face, claws drawn. When the beam had fired, his animal instincts forced him to the ground; luckily, the burst started at the tip of the wand and spread out at an angle he was just barely able to throw himself under.
Ky didn’t have enough time to respond with another volley of thunder, and was forced to block and parry a quick series of slashes followed by a kick, taking Eroh’s knee into his torso as the attack landed, grabbing it tightly and throwing him to the floor.
Gruse had shielded Myst and Sonsee with the arms of her Join Hands in a desperate attempt to block an unknown ability. The hallway was too tight for any of them to help Eroh, who wouldn’t have hesitated if he happened to maul them. Gruse, keeping her gaze locked on the fight, saw Myst raise his hand in their direction.
“Myst…” she cautioned. “Don’t do anything hasty…”
He squinted his eye forward. “Don’t worry…” he murmured. Dome C was their trump card in this situation, able to easily tear through anyone who appeared in their way with a single clean shot, but it was a last resort. Not only could it harm Eroh, it risked Myst’s body as well. He’d already lost an eye using it twice within an hour, and firing the light-speed bullet here meant that he was blowing his one shot.
Gruse averted her eyes without saying anything, concern befalling her face, hardened by the need to be alert.
Eroh tried to smash his knee into Ky’s skull as they tussled on the floor. After a moment of struggle, Ky ended up on top, his Ishtar still in hand.
“[IRON-]!” he cried.
Eroh’s eyes flared with madness, he bared his teeth and Ky saw his fingertip pointed squarely at his head from the ground. His own instincts drove him to jerk his upper body to the side, narrowly avoiding a jetstream of acid that burned a small hole in the wall behind them.
Myst took a few strides forward, the shot finally clean enough to threaten.
Ky let out a grunt through his teeth.
“You don’t have me!” An energy surged through him, the attack that had been interrupted roared back to life.
“[-MAIDEN]!!”
In the chaos, he hadn’t kept track of which direction his rod was pointed in, and while Eroh felt the sting of rapidly accumulating electricity into Ky’s body, most of it was redirected through the baton and into the space between them and the others.
The stone tiles were obliterated near-instantly, scattering into thousands of small pieces. Gruse was only close enough to shield Sonsee and herself as the burst of light and energy tore through the ground.
A primordial fear stabbed at Sonsee’s heart when she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her feet. It only took one more second to realize that they were falling down, and not stopping.
---
Jericho’s boots made a soft sound when they hit the stone steps that led one down into Queen’s Box. He had been looking forward to visiting the prison ever since seizing Dana, in a strange way. Long gone were the days he could fantasize that she might love him and leave her husband to be with him. He didn’t have the same need for sleep as a normal human, and spent several nights alone, and quite lonely, thinking these irrational things.
“What am I talking about?” he asked himself. “What do I think is going to happen? I can’t be in love with someone, Father has said as much. It’s impossible to feel love.”
Now, when he saw her, it reminded him of how dreary and thorny his heart was. He derived some pleasure from this, a sense of happiness from hurting deep, deep inside. It was something he was keenly aware of, but unable to understand.
Was this something humans felt?
Was he the only creature on Earth who felt this way?
Jericho’s inner rambling was interrupted by the noise of things falling apart, stone crumbling and breaking. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“Huh?”
It came from somewhere beyond the stairwell, but it resonated through the walls. Jericho cast off his confusion and took off down the steps, jumping three or four at a time.
Queen’s Box was shaped by several circular hallways connected by varying vertical and horizontal halls. The stairwell landed at the northernmost point of the prison, and Queen’s master chamber was housed in the center.
Jericho’s short, breathy panting echoed through the halls, passing frazzled servants and cells filled with inmates secluded in shadows.
“What’s happening?” he burst through the door of Queen’s chamber, startling the older man and his attendant. Two chains were still swinging, but there was no activity at the moment that was being picked up.
“I don’t know,” Queen said, anxiously rubbing his thumb up and down his jaw. A phone rang from the wall, and Jericho was the first to pick it up.
“Queen?” Mara’s voice was distorted but clear in her inflection: something serious was happening.
“Mara?” Jericho answered. “I’m here with Queen, what’s happening?”
She paused just long enough for him to hear her think. “Jericho-?” She quickly regained composure. “That woman, Gallow’s companion, and three others entered the building.”
“Three others?”
“Two men and one woman,” she explained hastily. “I- I believe from descriptions that they’re the surviving members of Drameda’s group.”
Jericho glanced at Queen to affirm his concerns.
“Where are they?” he asked.
“I encountered them on the first floor, when I retreated, I met General Monaco-”
“Monaco?” Jericho interjected, pulling the phone even closer to his ear. Behind him, Queen sighed and cradled his head in his hand while Etern burned in embarrassment.
“Yes, I don’t know why he was here, but I convinced him to hold them off.”
Jericho let the pieces fall together in his mind. “You heard the explosion just a moment ago, didn’t you?”
“I never said it was a good idea, it was just what I did.”
Jericho heard some fumbling on the other end, as an indistinguishable voice appeared and rattled something off in the distance. Mara soon returned to the phone.
“It sounds like that was Monaco,” she said. “There’s a big hole in the floor that goes to the underground and no sight of anyone else.”
“You mean they-” Jericho couldn’t believe what was really going on. “They fell down here??”
“Unfortunately, yes. Oh-” a reminder sparked in her head. “They have Dazey with them, also.”
Jericho threw up his arms.
---
Sonsee’s limbs sank into the pool of darkness, which sapped away feeling like heat. A sensation she couldn’t quite understand ripped her from sinking any deeper, and she became aware of her surroundings through spot-filled vision.
The sensation was actually Gruse poking her shoulder, knelt over her limp body.
“Sonsee,” her voice was deadened. “Come on, you have to get up.”
A circle of light poured faintly from above; they must have been over a dozen feet below ground, having broken through the ceiling of a stone hallway, a pile of rubble blocking one path completely. Sonsee picked herself up from the debris, feeling the spots one her body which would end up as bruises.
“Where are we?” she wondered aloud, rubbing her forehead.
Gruse peered as far as she could down the hall. “No clue, but I don’t think we can go back up the way we came.” Beneath her torn shawl, she was cradling the bird. “Poor thing, it got yanked down and hurt its wing.”
“I’m surprised more of our bones aren’t shattered,” Sonsee remarked.
“I cushioned the fall with my Vocation,” Gruse explained. “Not much, but enough to move around.”
The bird began cooing and moving its head around rapidly.
“Hm?” Gruse furrowed her brow.
They both heard a noise from above their heads, like the sound of someone beating a pillow multiplied by twenty. A mass of shadows blocked out the light from above, and the sound grew until they recognized it.
A flock of birds, dozens strong, flooded the hall, cawing and squawking in a storm of chaotic motion and sound.
“What the-?!” Gruse cried as they swarmed her, joining the one still tied to her finger.
The countless birds crowded into a tight area, forming a ball of feathers and claws in front of her. The ball grew and molded its shape within seconds until it was almost a human figure.
Before either of her captors could comprehend what was going on, the swarm became a girl suspended in midair, hair flying and arms outstretched.
“I made it!” Dazey shouted before falling to the floor and grunting as the breath was knocked from her lungs. Sonsee and Gruse watched in confusion as she immediately began crawling away like her life depended on it, only to let out a cry of pain a few strides in, collapsing to the ground.
All was quiet.
Dazey flipped herself over, laying on her back with shoulders drawn up and fingers to the ground like she could spring up at any moment. Her eyes were a blend of wild fear and mock-intimidation, her mouth pulled down as if she were muting her reaction.
“...Hi.” She tried her best to sound casual, bending the pitch of her voice up.
Sonsee and Gruse continued to stare at her with uncomfortable confusion. Sonsee was the first to speak up.
“I don’t understand… what just happened.”
---
“You son of a-!” Eroh lunged for Ky’s throat only to receive a swift knee to the gut.
The two of them knocked each other around, scraping against the dusty floor and echoing off the walls. Myst was seated up against the side of the hall, watching them go at it with the drooping eyelids of a parent who knows he can’t stop his children from arguing.
“I’ll kill you!!” Eroh growled ferociously before taking a blow to the side of the head.
Myst got to his feet, dusted himself off, worked out a kink in his neck, and set off down the torch-lit hallway. Eroh, who had locked arms with Ky in a struggle, stopped fighting and craned his view to watch Myst’s back shrink into the distance.
“Hey! Any help?!”
Ky followed his gaze and chuckled. “I don’t think he’s- Augh!”
Eroh crashed his knee into Ky’s groin, crumpling him in an instant. He threw him off and against the wall, stepping up to sweep his legs out from under him.
Ky made an aggressive lunge, grabbing Eroh’s shoulder.
“[IRON MAIDEN]!”
Instead of directing the thunder through his wand, Ky let it erupt around him in a halo of white-hot energy. Eroh shrieked in pain for what felt like an eternity, his knees buckled, his eyes rolled back, searing electricity ran through his body, nearly frying him from the inside out.
He collapsed to the floor, barely hanging onto a thread of consciousness; Ky raised his Ishtar for one last strike to obliterate him.
“Before you kill me…”
Ky paused, confident that whatever his adversary might say, he still had the upper hand. Eroh mumbled his words as if he were on his deathbed.
“You should know… You shouldn’t have done that…”
Ky’s eyes hardened, and he listened on with caution.
“My spirit body is poisonous… My whole body is poisonous… When you touched me and used your Vocation… You made contact with my spirit body, now I’ve infected you, even if it’s just a little, it’ll spread fast.”
“Spread?” Ky pushed his weapon closer to Eroh’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re looking to die within… Eh… Thirty minutes, forty-five…” Eroh muttered. “Just thought you’d like to know…”
Ky grit his teeth. “Are you being serious?” he said it like it was a threat.
“As serious as can be…” Eroh smiled loosely, staring up at him and knowing he’d won.
Several things converged in Ky’s mind, and a snap decision was made. He lowered the rod and spun around, taking off in the same direction Myst had gone.
As he vanished from sight, the same grin remained on Eroh’s face. When he was certain that he was alone, a little chuckle escaped his black lips.
“That dumbass… He thought that would kill me…” Eroh wiped some blood from his mouth with a sickly smile. “How many Vocation-users has that guy met? A general, right? What a loser…” With that, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep nap.
---
Over the last forty-eight hours, Gallow had become intimately familiar with the texture of the ceiling. He and Gestalt would talk until their throats hurt, and then hours would pass in near total silence save for the sounds of moving, rustling, scratching an itch.
Both of their attentions were grabbed by the muffled noise of an explosion. Their necks snapped to look at each other with the same concerned, heavy expression.
---
“You’re telling me that this whole time that bird was a person?” Gruse leaned in close to examine Dazey’s face; she stared back with a childlike openness.
“I’m many birds,” she replied. “You just saw the one.”
Gruse stepped away again. “Alright, where did you come from?”
“Hm?” Dazey tilted her head earnestly. “Where everyone comes from,” she answered. “I was made by my creator, His Holiness Jesua Saibit Bach.”
Sonsee felt shock run through her heart. “You- what?!”
“You’re acting like that’s funny,” Dazey giggled, clasping her hands together. “Are you joking around? That’s where people come from!”
Sonsee looked to Gruse, who met her eyes. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”
“Bach,” Gruse took control of the conversation. “He created you?”
Dazey nodded.
“And would he know anything about a glassy kind of black orb?”
“Orb?” Dazey brought a finger to her lip in thought. “The one he got from your friend?”
“Friend?” Gruse turned her attention to Sonsee.
Astonishment crossed Sonsee’s face. “Gallow?”
“Yes! Gallow!” Dazey smiled. “I almost forgot, teehee; I don’t know anything about an orb really, but he’s down here right now.”
Sonsee leaned towards her. “Who? Gallow or Bach?”
“Lord Bach is giving mass right now,” she replied. “Gallow is being held here in this prison.”
“Where? Do you know?” Sonsee pushed further.
“Weeeeell,” Dazey glanced up at the hole in the ceiling. “If we fell down from that hall, then we areeeeeee… Uhhh….” she held out the word with an open mouth as she recreated the layout of the building in her mind. “Oh! The fastest way to his cell is that way!”
She dramatically raised her hand and swiped downward to point directly at the pile of rubble behind them.
Gruse and Sonsee silently processed this brazen display of brainpower.
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Sonsee said reservedly.
“Is there a way down there?” Gruse motioned in Dazey’s direction, down the other end of the hall.
Dazey turned her head to follow her suggestion. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Would you mind leading us there?” Sonsee stepped up next to Dazey and put her hand on her shoulder. Dazey studied Sonsee’s warm smile for a moment.
“I guess I could,” it sounded like she was surprised by her own words. With little more, she began strolling down the hall.
“Eegh!” she stopped suddenly, clutching her leg.
“Are you okay?” Sonsee pulled up Dazey’s pant leg, revealing a long, dark bruise.
“It hurts to walk on,” she explained, watching the injury like a sad puppy. “I think I got hurt when we fell.
Gruse almost felt a pang of guilt strike her heart, but brushed it off.
“It isn’t like I knew who it was,” she reasoned.
“It’s alright,” Sonsee wrapped her arm around Dazey, propping her up to help her walk more comfortably.
“T-thank you,” Dazey stuttered, her pale cheeks blushing with a sudden warmth. She couldn’t remember the last act of unnecessary kindness someone had done for her.
“You took that well,” Sonsee said to Gruse as she caught up.
“Hm?” Gruse looked like she resented the comment preemptively.
“You just skipped the explanation and went straight for what you wanted to know,” Sonsee explained. “Captain Jepta told me about a saying he had, ‘If you see it, you must accept it,’ or something like that. You kind of remind me of him.”
Gruse retracted herself coldly, biting her tongue. She didn’t want anything to do with Gideon Jepta.
---
Ky’s eyes were steeled, that had just been the primer for the real fight he was looking for, and if it were his last, he was determined to win. His boots pounded the stone all the way to a door he threw open to another hallway.
“Jericho is somewhere here,” he knew it. “If those intruders are down here, he has to respond. I’ll fight you! I’ll fight you!” He paused for a moment to let out a hacking cough; the poison had already begun working. “I won’t let myself die like this! I am the Battlefield’s Renaissance!”
“Jericho!” he screamed into the darkness, running further. “Jericho! I’ll tear this place apart to find you!”
Rodan was almost asleep when he heard the shouting. He poked his head up and made eye contact with his wife in the opposite cell, both in alarm.
Ky huffed with grisly anger. The halls were seemingly never ending, a maze of passages and doors with torches placed far enough that their pools of light didn’t touch each other so that great stretches were covered in darkness.
A burst of thunder erupted from his rod, blowing a hole in the wall in his frustration.
Jericho was still in Queen’s chamber awaiting any further information, figuring that it was better to stay grouped than take on four opponents at a time. He stayed by the entrance, watching the chains until one rattled violently.
“Where’s that?” he jumped to ask.
Queen leaned forward in his seat, grabbing the arms in disbelief. “That’s Hall 5!”
“Hall 7?” Jericho didn’t yet have an encyclopedic knowledge of the prison’s layout.
“That’s right off the hall where Gallow and Hewl are being kept!”
“Gallow and Hewl…” Jericho reconstructed the map in his mind. “Is it a right or left from their hall?” His voice had a new intensity.
“A right,” Queen replied.
“Then that’s where-” he cut himself off. “That’s where Dana is.”
Jericho grabbed his crop and ran from the room.
“Haunt! What are you-” Queen called out. “Don’t be stupid!”
---
Myst, in the absence of a map, decided to follow the tried-and-true method of simply following the right wall until he found something. It was a solitary moment, but he didn’t have the luxury of finding solace in the quiet as he had on the journey by sea. His eye and ears were on alert for the slightest change in mood.
His pace suddenly slowed as he tried to mask his footsteps. Something was wrong, something was different. The flame of the nearest torch was moving strangely, like it was angling a hair’s breadth away from him.
“No, you’re making things up,” he told himself, but his primal sense of danger was raring into overdrive. His brain and heart argued furiously with each other until the barest breeze blew past his cheek.
Myst whipped around and caught Mara’s boot, throwing her away; she flipped backward, scraping her heel against the ceiling. She landed on the tip of her shoe and stood at point, her parasol held above her head, one side of her face lit harshly by torch light. A constant breeze circulated her, brushing the folds and ruffles of her dress. Myst eyed her up and down.
“You don’t happen to know where I could find an antique little black orb, do you?” he stood straight up with his shoulders back. “I’m just tryna’ get paid.”