Chapter 214
Loss, despair, and a tiny flicker of hope all tore at my mind, burning any semblance of cognizance to ash. Nothing mattered. Not the order, not whatever overcomplicated bullshit I was trying to accomplish here. None of it meant anything if Ellison was gone.
Was he? He knew. Had to. Somehow concluded that once we were out, the system would reward an artifact and made sure it went to medid he know that because he was aware he and his companions werent traditional Users and were therefore exempt from receiving the artifact? Or because missing the Nosferatus head was a critical mistake, and hed lose, and what kind of fucking time loop was it for fucks sake? If Ellison died did everything reset? Or were there quantum elements in play, and every time he died he moved to a new timeline?
Too many fucking unknowns.
Crack
I put my fist through a stone coffin, barely feeling the impact. It fractured in a series of spider webbing cracks and collapsed, spilling out desiccated bones and dust. It barely registered that the coffin was nearly an inch thick, and I shouldnt have been able to break through it.
The panic blew the lid off, growing more sharp and pronounced, a tingling fraying ache that threatened to paralyze me. I put my fist through another coffin, and again, the stone obliterated as if Id struck it with a hammer. It hurt more, this time, and I felt a pulse of pain in my fist that granted a moment of clarity before I plunged into a never-ending pool of anxiety.
Myrddin.
Someone was calling out to me. Someone I didnt care about.
Go back go back now you have to know for sure you have to see go now go now GO NOW!
Myrddin. Miles caught my shoulder before I could jump back in the ripple.
I pivoted and swung a blind backhand that hit nothing, trying to get around the interference so I could
Do what, exactly? Save him? If the worst had happened Ellison was already gone. Go anyway and bet on the astronomical odds hed dropped a core? The Nosferatu would pick me off as easily as breathing. And Id seen its power first hand. Payback was out of the question.
At least for now.
Slowly, I stopped moving. That old familiar feeling of helplessness overtook me, rooted my feet in place.
The tunnel vision faded, and I stared down the threaded barrel of a Glock, dimly realizing what happened. I fucked up. And in my brief lapse of sanity, Miles had taken the initiative and now held the advantage. His right eye aligned with the sight, his expression emotionless and cold.
When I spoke, my voice was so twisted and raw I barely recognized it. You got a memory loss issue, Miles?
Stay. Back. Miles said. The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))
Because you had ample fucking opportunity to throw me into an abyss a few minutes ago, and let it slip through your fingers. I growled and took another step forward.
Miles retreated, keeping a constant distance of around five feet between us. A less experienced shooter harboring the same level of anger might have pressed the gun against my head and made for an easy disarm but Miles never missed a beat. That was before you started punching through stone. And just because I overlooked half-pint backing you up again in the moment, doesnt mean I am now. Not without one hell of an explanation.
I nodded. Its the only thing that makes sense. The Overseer's public statements imply theyve been doing this for some time. And while I cant exactly show hard evidence for this, the Allfathers, proctors, and Nychtas comments all seem to imply these inquisitions have been going on for a staggeringly long time. My class. Your classunless Im completely wrongand the way they screwed with Tylers truth-sight ability right when it would have the most devastating outcome. Now, granted, all of those prior cases have justification. Im guessing you answered questions within the void before your class was assigned, just like mine?
Miles nodded, his mouth tight.
And divine-tainted monsters wounded Tyler, which is a little more borderline. But Hastur is running his own fucking guild, and more problematic, Nychta outright granted me something I needed at the perfect moment.
Things are devolving. Miles finished.
Right now theyre running a proxy war. Using third-parties to snipe at each other, jockeying for position, all while maintaining plausible deniability. Remind you of anything? I asked.
Miles looked troubled. Might as well be pulling directly out of the spook playbook. Fund the ragtag resistance against the regime you dont like, arm and back themat least until they either crumble, overthrow the regime, or do something you dont approve ofthen call it a day.
Rarely ends well for the resistance. Even if they win.
Thats a goddamn understatement. Miles said, rubbing his chin. Then he caught himself and reentered his focus on me. Though all this spitballing is feeling like a distraction.
How so?
None of it explains what happened in the tunnel. Or why you waltzed into a goddamn death camp and spared the necromancer running the show.
I winced. Largely because he wasnt wrong. That was what Id done. And sure, it looked far worse from the outside, but there was only so much I could tell him without putting Kinsley in hot water. This was a critical pain point with Miles. I couldnt deflect or blow it off. Whatever he believed or disbelieved, this was what he needed to buy in more than anything else.
We were in dangerous territory now, specifically regarding the tunnel. I was technically safe for as long as I was a member of the Order of Parcae and the geas remained effective, but when Miles found a way around it and also happened upon someone who could unequivocally confirm what actually happened that day, I was fucked.
And he would, eventually, find a way.
Which left me with two alternatives. Make myself so critical and valuable to both the feds and the Adventurers Guild that eliminating me wouldnt be workable when the news broke.
Or eliminate every witness from the Order in attendance that night.
Both felt flimsythe more contact I had with Miles, the more likely he was to connect the dots. And the second option
I have a family.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to banish the voice, then centered myself, piecing together the best version of what to tell Miles. When I opened them, he was still standing across from me on the elevator, his arms folded.
The Order of Parcae approached me early.
