28.

Quinton knew the city’s streets surprisingly well. Lynn limped after him as they navigated through. Like a lighthouse, the library blazed perched atop the cliff behind them, guiding them. Again, Lynn’s stomach rolled at the sight of the thousands of empty stone buildings, in some ways so familiar to Nornex. But it was empty here, not dead. The distinction radically altered his perception of the city. Not dead yet.

Quinton paused, holding up a hand to stop Lynn.

“Do you have any Savirelet?” he asked.

Lynn shook his head. “Constell and I used it up getting back here.”

Quinton grunted. “Of course. Do you know how to use it?”

“Sort of. I’m not very good.” Lynn decided explaining his visions wasn’t a priority at the moment. “You should keep whatever you have on you.”

“There’s a vein of it.”

“What?”

“In the center of the city, where we’re going right now. They’ve set up base on a massive cashe of Savirelet. It goes deep underground to the core of the island itself.”

“Okay..”

“I was hoping to use any Savirelet you have to coordinate exactly where the vein is at. I only have a vague impression right now.”

“You can detect where Savirelet is using it?”

“I’m a rock Mystic. When I use it, I sense everything the rock touches within about a mile radius. But only roughly.”

“Then do you know where Vivian is?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “I’d send you to her if I knew. I haven’t been able to get a hold of any Savirelet since this morning.”

“But if we get to this vein?”

“I’ll be able to collapse these bastards in a tomb of stone befitting of them.”

Lynn thought back to Constell teaching him the three courses for achieving power with Mystic Artes. Innate talent. Masterful expertise. And sheer quantity. Even without the practice of someone with experience, he shuddered to think what Quinton might be able to accomplish with access to the vein. Then he grinned. A tomb of stone. Probably more than those people deserved, but so long as they all died. And suffered.

“With it, you’d be able to pinpoint where Vivian is?”

“I’ll be able to pinpoint a leaf on the other side of the island. So yes. I’ll get you to her.”

Lynn nodded.

Then they were moving again. Every step, Lynn feared he might collapse from exhaustion and hunger. But still, he pushed himself forward. Ten more steps, he told himself every ten steps. He lost track of their path through the city, focusing on the short term goal of stepping forward. His fake leg caught on steps, causing him to stumble frequently, but he always caught himself and used the momentum to push forward further. Unyielding, forward.

“We’re here,” Quniton said, breaking his concentration.

They stood on the ledge of a stone bridge, below the windows of a few buildings glowed with lamplight. Almost homely, welcoming. A few people were scattered across the area, their stark white hair punctuated by the moonlight.

“What’s the plan?” Lynn asked. He kept his tone emotionless though a frenzy pounded in his ears.

Quinton shrugged. “Play dead.”

With that, the hulking man spun toward him and slammed a massive fist into his face. Lynn’s head snapped to his right side just before it smacked into the stone. Lynn laid dazed on the ground as Quinton dragged him down to the camp.

“And stop taking such deep breaths or we’re both dead,” Quinton demanded.

Lynn blinked and closed his eye. Blood from his nose caked into his beard and seeped into his mouth, leaving the familiar metallic taste corrupting the neutral taste of saliva. He took short breaths, moving his abdomen as little as possible. He knew he must already look like a ghoul, but he supposed the blood Quinton’s fist brought to his face would be a welcome addition.

“Aurelius, you said not to return without a corpse,” Quinton said. “Here it is. Anything else? Or can we get off this damned island?”

“You killed Jet? Excellent. Silver, you’ve done exactly what we needed of you. I doubt you comprehend just how massive of an obstacle you just removed from our path,” a man said. His voice was as smooth as poppy water.

Lynn opened his eye just a slit. Through his lashes, he saw a man with a long cloak. His hood was down, revealing a tumble of white hair to his shoulders. His eyes glowed with yellow light, like a cat’s. He stood in a relaxed posture, behind him a dozen more white haired individuals stood, looking far more uncomfortable.

Quinton grunted.

“I’m afraid I’ll forever be in your debt.”

“You can pay it off by getting me out of here.”

“Oh no.” Aurelius laughed. “I’ll take every morsel I find on the island. Your use is, sadly, finished. I thank you again, Silver.”

He set a hand on Quinton’s shoulder.

Quinton fell. Before he hit the stone beside Lynn, his body was already a blackened husk. Years of muscle growth, transformed in a moment into an oversized skeleton with skin. His short hair still stuck out from his scalp, making his head appear like a rotting porcupine.

“Now then,” the man said. “All opposition is removed. Paxanimi’s politics have left us an open path. Regnum’s last remaining junction of hope is now out of the way. Even the library is burned. Everything is so surprisingly easy once out of those walls. Feast now, but remember, this island is merely an appetizer.”

The others didn’t cheer. Like phantoms they dispersed into the night.

“Hold, you,” Aurelius said. One of his lackeys froze. “Where is Cicero?”

“Cicero?”

“He isn’t here.”

“I-I don’t know.” The lackey looked to the ground, not meeting his leader’s eyes.

“Oh, my dear friend.” Aurelius leaned in, setting a hand on the lackey's shoulder. The lackey flinched and glanced down at Quinton’s body. “If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s a liar.”

“He-he believes Xillian is here.”

“Xillian?” The leader laughed again. This time with genuine humor. “Of course. That’s why Cicero agreed to help us. Here though? Seems silly. Though Xillian never made much sense from what I remember.”

The lackey gave a nervous chuckle.

Xillian? The god of death from forgotten texts? He couldn’t mean...the vision of people collapsing to the ground with a wave of Rin’s hand flashed into his mind again. A god of death.

“I still need an answer though. Where. Is. He.” He tightened his grip on the lackey’s shoulder, showing alabaster bone through his hand. “Unless,” he said, voice dropping to a volume barely more than a whisper whisper. “You actually fear Cicero more than you do me?”

“A garden!” The lackey gasped. “He went to a garden. One of the librarians told him that a Mortium boy matching Xillian’s description always went to a garden in the city. I don’t know where exactly. I swear!”

Aurelius let go of him. He dusted off his hand on his robe, as if cleansing it of the filth of the man.

“Now was that so hard?” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Yes, I sense the garden. Like an oasis in the stone. Not far off.”

The lackey scrambled away while expressing deep gratitude to his leader. Aurelius, for his part, still stood over Lynn, considering something. Then he bent down.

“Lynn Jet. I’m glad you’re here before me. What a great curiosity you are.”

In a moment of panic, Lynn thought he expected him to respond. Fearing that he saw through their ruse. That’s why he murdered Quinton.

Then Aurelius continued.

“Yes. Like the safest curiosities, you’re dead. Dead or contained. Those are my favorite options for Paxan like you. When we finally managed to track your mother down, we thought we eliminated the whole line, save one, but no, like vermin, you scurried away.”

Lynn’s mind raced. Paxan? His mother?

“But now the rat ate the poison. So easily too. To think, I feared when I discovered you here. Moreso when you refused to die. Idiocy. This only proves the incompetence of my connections across the sea.”

A boot caught him on the side, flipping him over. Thankfully, the kick contacted the left side so he didn’t feel it enough to even want to wince. However, the follow up boot shattered his fake leg. Then he was rolling down a slope, a ragdoll, until he slammed into a wall.

This time though, he didn’t faint or feel dizzy. Anger boiled over. He was so tired of being thrown around. He didn’t want to be kicked or punched or fall or cower in his rooms. Lynn’s eye opened with fury. And the answer was right before him. Along the wall in front of his face, a tiny vein of Savielent peeked through the stone. Lynn slapped his hand on it and breathed in.

In a flash, the visions flickered in his sight but he shoved them all away. He wanted power. He needed power. Then it was before him. A chill echoed through his bones and he stood.

The Savielent formed over the top of the shattered fake leg, the splinters jutting out the sides of it. And then, a fist of ice rose up from his left side. Frost mingled with the blood in his beard.

Lynn took a step toward Aurelius.

“You did this,” Lynn said. “You did this to me.”

For the first time, Aurelius lost his relaxed composure, collapsing into panic at the sight of Lynn walking toward him.

“Silver, he-”

“Led me right to you.”

Aurlius stuck his hand up uselessly reaching toward Lynn, as if expecting him to combust or fall to nothing like Quinton.

A sleek layer of ice coated the ground he walked on. For a moment, Lynn understood the power Lysendra had to have had to create that forever frozen lake. It coursed through his veins. If only he had it moments before, he might have been able to recreate her feat with all of the Mortium citizens here. Keeping them buried in nevermelting ice for eternity.

But no, Lynn didn’t truly believe that. He managed to control an arm and a leg. That was his limit. The rest of the power seeped out of him in an uncontrollable quantity.

However, only he was privy to that information.

“Why?” he demanded, his word punctuated with a puff of air.

Aurelius slipped on the ice crusting over the ground. “It’s just business, is all. Just a stepping stone. I meant nothing personal about it.”

“My brother.”

“Safe! Safe and sound in Mortium. I can take you there. We’re both noble individuals after all, we can come to an agreement, I’m certain.”

“Yes.” Lynn set his left hand on the man’s shoulder. “An agreement.”

The ice fanned out across the man’s body from the shoulder blade. The man’s smile froze.

“The boat! It can get you into Mortium. It uses a Paxan royal flag. It has access to anywhere in the world. Even the nobles in Regnum recognize it.”

The nobles knew about Paxanimi? Lynn supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised. Someone used Mortium against his family, after all. It made sense they’d know about both countries. Still, he was head of a household and no one ever told him. What else did they all keep from him?

He shoved the question out of his mind and asked a different one.

“The garden. Where is the garden at?” If Vivian was anywhere, it would be next to Rin. But maybe she wasn’t there. Maybe this Cicero person rid the world of Rin. Maybe Vivian learned sense and got away from the horrible person. But Lynn doubted it.

The man’s mouth now completely frozen over, his joints crackled as he lifted an arm to point in a direction.

Lynn thought back to the woman he’d bludgeoned to death with a brick. It had taken minutes for him to get the deed done. She healed and healed. He doubted this man would die faster. Likely, much, much slower.

Lynn’s hand clenched over his throat, snapping it. He felt nothing. There were no nerves in the hand of ice but it responded all the same. Sure enough, the neck snapped back in place. He had no time for this.

With all his heart, Lynn wished to keep Aurelius trapped here. He wanted to murder the Mortium man. And revel in doing so repeatedly. For as long as it took.

Instead, he stepped away. And he ran.