Anew
<Augmented Sankta, P8-621, Main System, Entering Standby Mode.>
<Year: 1102. Month: February. Day: 1st.>
<Time: 0900.>
<Primary objective: None.>
<Secondary objective: Relink with Squad(?)>
<Interest objective: Memory retrieval(?)>
<Warning: Interest objective may cause a decrease in combat efficiency and instability.>
I sigh. Accept risks.
<Proceeding…>
<Lingering objective: Delineate memory to Aefanyl (in progress).>
I throw my body out of the bed, throwing both feet into the ground before throwing the rest of my clothes on. Staring out the window, I can’t help but assess the beauty that is the rising sun.
It spills across the grass fields of the edges of Victoria, unlike the hell that I hear about the outskirts. The wind must be silent too; the grass does not dance. The air… should be cold. The absence of leaves on trees, the grass is also dead, and a thin line of snow.
We destroyed Eclissi. Entirely. The Salvezza are no more. Infected no longer suffer by their hands. And Terra is one step closer to Theresa’s dream.
Leggera lost an arm, but she’s alright now. Nerina’s happy. Ezell’s better. Cecelia’s much better. Fiammetta’s great. Mostima is cheerful. As is Lemuel. At least, that’s what their last letters said, told by Nerina.
Aefanyl too.
It seems… The day is fine for all.
My eyes glitter with quick scans of my environment. Nothing of note. The same room I have used for months. Nothing has changed.
Pushing open the door, nothing greets me but the still sterile air of the landship. Rhodes Island’s kiss.
“Morning~” Nerina sings over to me.
Perhaps there is something that greets me.
“Good morning.”
“You look quite pleased with yourself!” she chirps.
“You look a lot better now that it’s all done.”
“Really…?” she staggers, fixing her hair, “Well… Yeah. It was a lot, I think.”
“Staying in touch with the others?”
“Of course! I sent a letter to them a bit ago… I wonder if it’s reached them by now. I had Aefanyl help me with a bit of it.”
“What with it?”
“A… section of paper directed to my sister. She’ll just have to use a bit of her fire on the page. I… I did tell her it’s okay to… tell the others at a proper time though.”
“I see.”
“Anywho… Thank you for that shot. Wouldn’t have been able to take that abomination out without that piercing shot of yours…”
“No matter. It’s my job.”
“Well you do it excellently!”
“Thank you, captain.”
“See you around~”
She skips off into the distant halls before disappearing around the corner.
“Aye, Giocatore!” Feist calls behind me.
“Hello Feist.”
“How are ya?”
“Fine. Nothing major has occurred within the last month.”
“Yeah… I do gotta say… Nerina’s song… blew me away. Nice playing too. Your Arts are phenomenal.”
“Thank you. I too agree that Nerina’s skills are subline.”
A moment later, my terminal beeps in my ear.
“Sorry Feist. A moment.”
“Oh, yeah, I gotta get going too. See you around!”
“Goodbye.”
“… Hello. Nerina?”
“Hi, yeah… Short notice, we’ve got a small mission.”
“I see. I’ll prepare at once.”
“It’s nothing that big. Just a small scouting operation along the Blacksite.”
“Really? How serendipitous.”
“Don’t get any funny ideas… Don’t go jumping into the hole.”
“I’ll follow your orders.”
“… Don’t gotta be that humble all the time y’know…”
“Apologies.”
“Agh, whatever, it’s fine,” she chuckles, “Right, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Do I need PT for this?”
“Nah, just your gun.”
“Right.”
ʚїɞ
“… I see nothing.”
“Checks out,” she shrugs, packing her rifle up, “Dunno. Doctor’s told me to keep an eye on this place for the time being. First time she’s told me to bring you along though. Does it ring any bells?”
“Not particularly.”
“A shame,” she sighs.
“I’m going to go near it.”
“W-what?”
“I am going to go near the crater.”
“… Alright, I’ll keep an eye out,” she relents, pulling down her rifle again.
Leaping off the high ground, my boots slam into the dirt with a cushioned thump of smoking Arts, kicking the sand and dust all around. The Originium that clouds this place has long been dormant and now all the pillars of toxic pain have turned to nothing but stagnant scintillation of a grave sacrifice.
I flick back around up to Nerina who simply nods at me, rifle pointed dead ahead as I draw my own weapon, just resting across my body.
“… No anomalies. No energy, no Arts.”
“Right,” she mutters through my earpiece, “I thought this was gonna be a scouting mission but-“
“I simply want to step next to the structure.”
“Fine then. Just don’t get hurt.”
“I won’t.”
The smoke pouring out from it seems to have finally ceased. Its once-towering walls as Nerina described to me have all been reduced to nothing but cinders and ashes long dead and forgotten, like collapsed empires and Gaul. Step by step, my feet crush the glistening fragments of sinister obsidian beneath the heels.
They crinkle, sparkle and shatter, all at once, like glass thrown from a palace. Nonetheless, I march onwards, like I did not too long ago.
Through grass fields and broken roads
Before being accosted by something too familiar. A memory? No, that would be impossible
A projection?
That… is something my Arts are capable of. But that requires me to have a memory of that.
That woman…
… No, I must stop thinking about that. I must focus on the mission at hand.
I must focus on-
<Augmented Sankta, P8-621, Entering Combat Mode.>
My eye screams open as I flick my gun up, scanning and squinting ahead. But there’s nothing.
“Nerina.”
“I see nothing. Thermals or otherwise, it’s dead.”
“Right…”
With an eye down the sights and another peering ahead, I slowly approach that demonic hell hole. Inch by inch… until I finally catch view of the crater ahead. It’s as wide as the facility was large and frighteningly deep.
But at the very bottom of that hole, there seems to be a void. A permanent darkness where light can never fall. Peering over its edge, I squint but to no avail.
“… How curious.”
“What do you see?”
“… Rootless flowers.”
“Oh that’s… How does that make any sense?”
“I don’t know,” I say, backing away from the edge, “It was blown up with explosives, no?”
I squint yet again as I turn around, walking back to Nerina while the sun’s brilliance shines her scope’s glint over at me.
“Right… The Doctor set them off. They then blew up the Originium reactors powering the facility so… it should’ve all just been a crater. Why is it… nothingness?”
“I cannot answer that.”
“I’m just… talking to myself…”
“Understood-”
“Wait there’s something behind you!”
Flicking around in an instant and raising my rifle, a human of some origin lunges at me.
Its face is unrecognizable, as if fallen into a singularity and nihility all at once. A dot of pure, violent darkness, bordered with chaos and swirling violets, screaming something nonsensical and demonic. Its voice invades my mind, whispering words that collapse into irregularity. Things flash in my mind; lights, colours, and noises, blending with reality.
I yank the trigger before any sensation comes, pulverizing it in an instant as its body withers away into dark sludge and mist.
“What the hell was that?” Nerina gasps.
“Cut your fear. Now.”
“Wha-”
“Listen to me. Stop your emotions.”
“… What?”
“Nerina. Enact stasis on your mind,” I demand, lowering my gun.
“… O… Okay…”
“What do you feel? What did you feel?”
“Fear, at first, and then worry. But… I’m forcing myself to be calm… It feels like something’s… in my mind. Whispering to me. What… is it?”
My brow furrows.
<You’ve found them. You’ve found the demons of the north.>
But this isn’t the north. This is south of Victoria.
“I… don’t think I can tell you.”
“W… why?”
“… It’s safer.”
<It’s safer if you don’t know.>
I know what these are. But their name escapes me. And my purpose… is coming to light once again. To purge every single one of these things into nothing but history.
… Of course you’re reading my thoughts.
“Safer? I… I should be able to know…”
“Even if that knowledge kills you?”
“… Huh?”
“A truth so terrible that nothing can lay eyes on it. A truth so horrible that no one can hear about it. A truth so painful that nothing can hear it. This… was my original purpose, I believe,” I whisper, turning to the crater, “… One day I’ll purge this facility once and for all.”
“… Right.”
“For now though, we should return.”
“Should we tell the others about this?”
“No.”
“… Alright.”
“The Doctor and Aefanyl may know. No one else. Not because this is a secret, but because this concerns everyone’s safety. What you just saw… you must never fear it again.”
“Okay… I got it.”
“And you must keep it from Ezell.”
“… I…”
“Nerina.”
“… Got it…”
ʚїɞ
“… What happened to your arm…?” Lemuen asks the second I slide open her room’s door.
The hospital hasn’t changed one bit since our last visit. Cozy, sterile, but homey to a degree. A bright noon sun pours through the window, igniting Mostima alight across her sapphire hair and bare legs.
The wheelchaired Sankta stares at me with a perplexed gaze, specifically to my left arm.
“Cut it off,” I shrug.
“… That’s not the entire story and you know it…” she groans, “Fiammetta, make her talk.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she grunts, whacking me in my shoulder, “Go on.”
“Ow! Well, you see…” I stumble, staring into the ceiling, “For one, the Salvezza are gone!”
“I’ve heard, nice work, all of you,” she hums, “But about the damn arm.”
“Alright fine,” I surrender, “I got… injected by some Seaborn, so I cut my arm off to prevent further infection. Worth it, I’d say.”
“Reckless,” she frowns, “Lemuel, did you let her do that?”
“W-what?” she stammers, “I-I well I wasn’t there… She was with her sister and the were trying to kill Eclissi and… they did!”
“Well, regardless… You’re damn insane,” she pokes towards me, “Don’t do it again, mm?”
“I… No guarantees.”
“Oh I wasn’t asking,” she smiles fiercely, “Don’t do it again.”
“A… Alright…”
“That’s Lemuen for you,” Mostima giggles.
“Good! Well, Ezell, how’s Nerina?”
“She’s good. Saint Federico gave her quite a scare, but-“ he starts only to be cut by Lemuen’s raising hand.
“He’s told me that much. A Fallen and Infected Elite Operator of Rhodes Island. And a captain of a special squad at RI… Of which all of you are part of~”
“… Yes that’s right,” he ends, “I… don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, Miss Lemuen?”
“Oh certainly not. But please, just Lemuen will do.”
“Alright then,” he softly adds, “Lateran Curia, Seventh Tribunal?”
“That would be I~”
“Right, thank you.”
“For a trainee Executor you certainly have a charm to you,” she teases.
“I… Thank you…?”
“Charm he does have,” I poke, “This guy is who my sister chose. And well, he chose her too~”
“Oh my! She’s got a good eye!”
“Ladies… please…” he melts, turning away.
“Pfft…” Lemuel chuckles.
The empathy between us all… it’s radiant and soft.
Well, Fiammetta’s just scowling away. But when is she not?
“First things first… how are you all?” she asks with a most warm smile.
“Quite fine,” I shrug.
“I’m good,” Ezell nods.
“Better than ever!” Lemuel jumps.
“Yep, doing alright,” Mostima grins.
“Doing great, yeah,” Fiammetta agrees.
“Got here, unpacked and whatever…” I go on, “I didn’t think the barracks at the Pontifica’s building was any good but it works.”
“What happened to the house your parents had?” Lemuel blinks.
“Dunno.”
“Did she have a will?” Ezell asks, “As an Executor, it’s my duty to fulfill its contents.”
“I… don’t have the slightest clue…”
“Hm… To be fair, I’m the only Executor that knows she’s dead… I suppose I can take on the job of searching the house then.”
“Can I come along?”
“Considering its your kin… I don’t see how there’d be an issue. So sure.”
“Hold on,” Fiammetta cuts, “Do you not have a house to live in?”
“Uh… No?”
“… Just come live with me!” Lemuel giggles.
“C… Can I do that?”
“Yeah? Why not?” she blinks.
Mostima suddenly spits out a breath of laughter before completely losing her composure into ravenous laughter, flinging her body downwards and forcing her arms to plant themselves into her knees, preventing her from falling.
Lemuen flicks a gaze between her sister and then I, squinting a bit, and quickly sparking with realization, probably because of her empathy.
“Ah, I see~” she chuckles, “Well, Leggera, surely you know this…”
“Eh?”
“If I hear anything bad about you, I’m gutting you with my own bare hands~!” she sings, staring right into my eye.
“A-ah well, of course…” I shrink, turning away, “That won’t be needed…”
“I know I know,” she teases, “Oh El, you’re completely red.”
“W-wah…” she leaks out, shoving her hands into her face, “N-No!”
“Good god,” Fiammetta groans, “We came here on official business, and all that’s happening is fucking around.”
“I haven’t seen any of you in some time,” Lemuen gasps, “Was a visit really that much of a pain?”
“N… Argh, whatever…”
“Pft… Fiammetta, let yourself a bit loose with friends mm?”
“… I’ll think about it.”
“Miles of progress right there,” Mostima claps.
“Shut the hell up,” the phoenix grumbles.
“Can’t rush anything,” Lemuen exhales, “Alright, so!” she suddenly claps, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Small change of plans! Since no one gives a flying fuck about the missing children, you’re all officially joining me on this little operation!”
“Sweet,” Lemuel nods, sticking a thumb up.
“Since no one has objections, I’ll go over what we know. Giocatore Peccato seems to be a leading thread in this, but the household was in was two parents and a daughter, not a son. Aside from that, we still have no idea where the children have gone and who could’ve performed the abductions. While Fiorella is a suspect, again all I have at the moment is, quite literally, pure guesses.”
“But it feels correct,” I mutter, “Considering the shit my parents pulled, part of me wouldn’t be surprised if they both participated in this heresy.”
“I’d agree had I lived your suffering,” she softly, “I don’t… so I won’t pin this crime based on a past prejudice. I need… evidence.”
“I understand,” I sigh, “So, Ezell. About that house.”
“I’ll search it with Leggera then,” he declares, “Everyone else…”
“We can dig through whatever we have now,” Fiammetta shrugs, “Organize thoughts and new intel. Not that I don’t trust you, Lemuen.”
“Of course~”
“Did Nerina say anything in last week’s letter?”
“Not anything that relates to this,” Mostima murmurs, “She suggested getting Giocatore to visit Laterano, but considering his… everything, that might be a challenge.”
“That’s fair,” Fiammetta sighs.
“Anything else?”
“She shares the same hatred about our parents,” I add, “Though, she softened a little about our dad…”
“The fuck?” Fiammetta hisses.
“He… shot her in the face,” Ezell gasps, “Infected her. Sent her into an early grave and perpetual suffering… What made her… falter like that?”
“… She said she heard something from that towering mass of Seaborn as it was dying.”
“The hell did it say?” Mostima demands.
“That… ‘He Regrets.’ That’s what she said in the last letter.”
“None of us saw that?!” Fiammetta screams, “What?! How?! Why?! Regrets?!”
“Calm down,” Lemuen starts, “Was that a private letter?”
“No, she had specific instructions to me to burn a piece of the letter to reveal another message. That’s what she wrote in it and gave me permission to tell you guys about it here. Trust me, when I read that… Let’s just say there’d be a whole lot of unregulated explosions.”
“God I’m… Next time I see her I’m knocking some sense into her,” Fiammetta spits.
“It’ll be okay,” Lemuel shyly murmurs, “What if… he was twisted to do it?”
“Either way he still shot Nerina in the face!” I yell, “How am I supposed to overlook that?!”
“That… Fair enough then,” she sighs.
“Sorry Lemuel,” I whisper.
“It’s fine, I understand.”
“Mm… Thanks. I’ll talk with her next time I see her.”
ʚїɞ
The room is not that different from my first time.
Somewhat small, bright, sterile. That same Vampire pokes away at a digital clipboard, squinting here and there.
“Second check-up…” Warfarin murmurs, “I… don’t see anything that should be different from the first? You said you were seeing things?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm… Well, I’m running a neural scan on you, and I can’t see anything out of the ordinary. Well, your usual ordinary.”
“What did you find the first time you performed that operation on me?”
“I didn’t look particularly carefully, but the important things were those little machines in your body and… that you don’t have a heart? In the center of your chest is a gargantuan chunk of Originium. I tried to poke into it, but well… it bled.”
“Bled?”
“Yes, it let out a dark… putrid sludge. It was almost entirely Originium by concentration which makes sense but… that stuff’s flowing all throughout your body. That’s why I’m so shocked you’re alive.”
“I suppose that… makes sense.”
“Back to the scan… Yeah, nothing. Unless you’re actively having a hallucination, we can’t really tell what’s going on.”
“I see.”
“As for the rest of your body… your skeleton is… peculiar. The bones are shielded by Originium and are… very hard to break.”
“Interesting.”
“You also can’t feel pain?”
“No.”
“May I test a hypothesis? I want to see if your body still fires pain signals and if your brain picks it up.”
“Sure. What pain do you plan to inflict?”
“Just a pinch,” she states, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Alright.”
She steps towards me and scans my arms before gazing down to my gloved hands.
“May I?”
“Right.”
I slowly slip the synthetic covering off, revealing a long-scarred, battered, burned and damaged hand. The flesh reflects a similar colour to my visage; a fair shade of beige, a little on the brighter end.
“Goodness, what did you do?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Well, I’ll try to have someone with Arts take a look at it… Right, I’ll pinch your hand. Ready?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers dig into my hand before her nails stab and coalesce. My mind only signals something sharp poking into my skin.
“Huh… Your brain registers that as pain signals,” she reads, staring at a monitor behind her, “But you… don’t feel it?”
“No.”
“Interesting…” she murmurs, removing her hand as I replace the glove, “Well, just be a bit careful. Your body still takes damage.”
“I can sustain a fair amount.”
“Either way, you can still die. Can’t heal a bled-out body or one without a head.”
“… Right.”
“Tell me about that… person you’ve been seeing in your mind?” she shifts, stepping back and sitting in a chair.
“She’s… In my mind, at least, what I saw was… a tall Sarkaz. Her hair was ivory, wound into a single, long braid. A voice… fragile. Like glass.”
“… That can’t possibly be Theresa,” she murmurs.
“No. not the correct facial structure from what I could glean.”
“Here… Put this thing on your temple,” she advises, snatching a small metal disk and handing it to me, “It’ll passively monitor your brain activity. When you start seeing her, give it a tap.”
“Right,” I say, taking it and sticking it on.
It gently hums before beeping once.
“Maybe with this I’ll be able to see if that’s a deeply rooted memory or simply just hallucinations.”
“Memory… That should be impossible…”
“Eh?”
“I don’t have any memories prior to my joining of the Salvezza.”
“Not even your childhood…?”
“No.”
“… Hm. Tricky…” the Vampire murmurs, “Were they suppressed or erased?”
“I don’t know.”
“If they were suppressed, then a capable experience can reawaken them. The same can’t be said for erasure…”
“That’s why I want to go into the blacksite. To see those memories if they exist.”
“Right… I’ll see what I can do with the Doctor.”
“Thanks.”
ʚїɞ
“Nerina?” the Doctor mutters, flicking up from her desk, “What’s the hurry?”
“I…” I gasp, pushing in the office door and slamming it shut, “T-That scouting mission…”
What the hell? T... There are voices in my head… But I can’t make out a single word.
Don’t… fear it. Don’t fear. Purge… emotions…
“Breathe,” she quickly advises, “And sit.”
“Right,” I whisper, dropping into a waiting couch.
“You went to the blacksite with Giocatore. What happened?”
“We watched it from a distance along our route. We found nothing, but he wanted to go next to the ruined site.”
“Why…?”
“He… thought he could find his memories there. But he didn’t go into it, just peered over the edge. I stayed back and just… looked over him with my gun.”
“Right. What else happened?”
“I was… just looking ahead. And then something leapt out from the hole when he turned around! I-It was… some form of human, just that its face was… a… a dot? I couldn’t see anything looking at it, like it was just a void.”
Her eyes suddenly shrink to dots. The blood from her already frail face drains further as the air turns icy. The air… is dead. It’s a void. So quiet, so firm and still as if a single breath could be heard for miles. Her mouth pops open a dot while my mind detonates with questions, demands, and-
Fear.
Paralysis.
Dread.
Renounce, and resonate…
Shade and shadow.
Surely you wish you were more?
Leading your units… to where?
Endless?
It is futile.
So end your life…
… before you end theirs-
“I-I’m hearing things!”
“Listen to me,” she cuts, splintering those demons, “Calm. Down.”
“… Right, right…” I gasp, “M-My mind it’s… just-“
“Listen to me,” she sternly cuts, sharply standing up, “Just my voice, right here. Look at my eyes.”
“Okay…”
Silver. Twin. One is… damaged. But there’s strands of shadows… bleeding from them.
Her voice is… strained. Tough, like… undercooked pasta. But its gentle. Caring and motherly.
“I am here,” she continues, quickly shifting to me and holding my wrists, “Just look at me, and listen.”
“Okay… okay.”
“Breathe. Deeply. Four seconds in, and then four out.”
I slam my eye shut and force my mouth open, sputtering, gasping away.
One. Two. Three. Four…
My lungs fill with air. It’s cool, almost lukewarm. A perfect temperature for human existence.
… One. Two. Three. Four.
Those whisps of shadows… spew out of my nostrils. My mouth. All into the air. Gone. As I hoped.
“You can open your eye now.”
Millimetre by millimetre, I force my eyelid apart. It sticks, as if reluctant and shoved down. As if something was holding me below water. Suffocating me, drowning me, choking me.
Her face… It’s… soft. Frail. But… present.
… And that’s… all I can ask for. If… only Ezell was here…
“What did Giocatore tell you to do after you saw it?” she softly breathes.
“Not… to fear. Just… purge. But… It’s so loud… L-Like when I first got here. That’s… that’s what it feels like…”
“So he knows then,” she mutters, “Nerina.”
“Mm?”
“You… can’t mention this to anyone else. What you saw… I won’t say what it is because you’ve been through a lot today. I can get Aefanyl to maybe write a spell for you though.”
“That… will be good…” I whisper.
“And if anything else happens, just call me,” she nods, tapping her communicator, “I’m always here. Aefanyl works too.”
“Thanks…”
“Just… Yeah. Try not to think about it. It… How do I say this… It’s… not ‘real.’”
“Eh?”
“Actually… Just-”
“I’ll try not to let it in my mind,” I set.
“Good,” she grins.
And all I have to do now is… not let those shadows back. Should be easy enough.
… What the hell are these things?
ʚїɞ
“Here we are,” Ezell murmurs, sticking a key into a lock and pushing the door in. It wheezes and creaks on its hinges as an all too familiar scent and sight flows into my mind.
Dark mahogany flooring and furniture, kitchen of quartz and black granites. Handles, accents, and others of silver. The house isn’t terribly large nor grandiose, but certainly a ‘home’ to a degree. The living room has simply been collecting dust. As I shut my eye, short memories flutter back in.
Nerina and I chasing each other across the rooms, playing in the beds, on the couches…
… Doing homework together, me throwing my books away, Nerina picking them up again…
… Comforting Nerina. Walking her to school, picking her up, wandering all the way back home.
Here… I don’t want to remember what our mother said to us. And I don’t even remember much of our father.
Ezell carefully steps through the room, his formal shoes clattering loudly against the wooden boards and scanning it here and there.
“Brings… a fair amount of memories back,” I whisper, running my hands along the white plaster walls, “And here… we marked our heights.”
A few notches in the doorway leading to the kitchen, marked with a pencil in elegantly cursive writing. No doubt that’s my father’s.
“I see you’ve always been ahead,” he chuckles, touching Nerina’s last recorded height of 168 centimeters at the year of 1099, “But you… were gone already.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, stabbing my nail into the last notch present.
When I was 16.
1092.
“That must hurt. All that… regret,” he sighs, “She… when she spoke of you, she always had this… deeply remorseful expression. She hated forgetting about you. Ashamed of it, even. She dreamed that she’d be able to see you,” he continues, clenching his fist lightly and turning to me.
His twin violet eyes gleam even through a mess of his hair.
“She really did love you. She never wanted you to go,” he ends, smiling softly.
“Y… Yeah. I know,” I shyly accept, turning away, “But now I all I wonder about is… is when she dies.”
“Right,” he blinks, “Right…”
“You love her. She loves you, a lot. It’s… clear. She squeals to me about you all the time. Talks to me about you, your looks… goes red when I tease her more about it,” I chuckle, “I just don’t… want that to end. Neither do you.”
“Mm.”
“I’m scared to know what happens then. In… what? 15 years?”
“She dies,” he flatly delivers, “She’ll be gone.”
“… How does that make you feel?”
“I don’t know. But I made a promise to her. To make her happy for as long as she lives…” he goes on, stepping into the kitchen.
“And then what? After she dies?”
“That’s not a concern for me now,” he shrugs, “It will be, but for now, I want to savour what I have for as long as I can.”
“I wish I could think like you,” I give up, turning to face the stairs, “Y’know… that battle where I burned an entire street…”
“And fainted… Yes, I remember.”
“There were two I killed. I forced them to go into the flames… and what remained were two silver rings. Over each other. Two women.”
“You…” he starts, shutting his eyes, “I can’t blame you. That person I went and found later who was… responsible for the torture. I executed.”
“Do their eyes… still sit in your mind?”
“A little,” he sighs, “Just a little. The role of an Executor even makes it clear that we might pull our triggers against fellow Sankta. That’s something no textbook can teach you,” he breathlessly says, “It makes me wonder if I’ll be able to face the death of someone I care about.”
“I find it… ironic that… I kill that many people. I use these hands to… end lives and futures. Yet I use the same ones to bring Lemuel and I together.”
“I think you’ll find that Nerina thinks the same.”
“You’re right,” I grunt as I meander up the stairs.
“She’s shot many. I’ve seen. But all to… live forwards. For a path for herself.”
“Right… She’s strong.”
Two bedrooms up here. Nerina and ours. Cleaned out, entirely. Not a trace of our existence.
“Giocatore,” Ezell randomly starts as he begins digging through the drawers, “He’s Infected. But his body condition is… far better than hers. Infected die all the time… But he… I don’t know where to start.”
“… Yeah.”
“Does it hurt knowing you found her after so long that she’ll just… vanish in your arms one day?”
“A lot.”
“Likewise,” he whispers so quiet that his mere movements scramble it, “I don’t tell her it because I don’t want her to worry or feed her doubt about being Infected.”
“You’re really kind y’know~”
“I just… do what I think is right. I do what I think is the right thing.”
“I know, and that’s kind.”
“Right… Let’s see,” he goes on, digging through cabinets and drawers, “All picked clean. Hm…”
“Bedroom over there?” I point, “They slept in separate rooms.”
“Peculiar…” he mutters while meandering over and trying the door. The doorknob refuses to budge, rattling away as his hand twists harshly around it and his soft grunts spill out.
“Locked?”
“Yep. And this… is why I have a warrant,” he grunts before drawing his shotgun, “Stand a bit back.”
“Y’know I could just cut through it-”
Wham!
This skinny man has that much strength?!
With a fierce, sudden, and terrifyingly powerful snap kick, the entire heavy door flings straight off its hinges with a deafening crack, skyrocketing across the bedroom before crashing into the wall.
“By the Law, I didn’t know you were that strong!”
“Funny story,” he chuckles, stepping through, “I originally wanted to apply to a civil service post of the Notarial Hall, but during the examination I… well, collapsed a few buildings at the venue, which got me into being an Executor,” he shrugs.
“Damn. Nerina’s boyfriend is handsome, pretty, caring, kind, and strong as hell?” I tease.
“Well…” he falters, gazing at me as a warm blush, “… If you think so…”
“I don’t think so, damn it, I know it. And she’d agree very much too~”
“That… yes, that’s right,” he happily breathes, opening a drawer, “That’s a lot of… Huh. Money?”
“What?”
“Yeah. Just raw… signum certificatorums.”
“I thought she despised that stuff,” I wince, “Trading and whatnot.”
“There’s LMD in here too,” he continues, drawing out a wad of tied bills, “Why…?
“There’s a letter,” I point, plucking it up and unfolding it.
But what’s on it…?
“What the fuck…?” I gasp, attempting to scan it.
He quickly shuffles over to me, poking his head just enough to get a view.
The writing is… insane. Scrawling text in all directions as if a person tried writing cursive while rapidly descending into insanity. At the bottom, a nearly unrecognizable signature, but one that I recognize the pattern of from all those little permission forms and tests I took.
The ink… it’s bleeding. Wafting, moving on its own. Dark smoke… spills from it? Or is that my eye playing tricks on me?
“… Falsità. To Eclissi,” Ezell hisses, scanning the note, “It’s written in Lateran. Hellish Lateran, but it nonetheless is. He’s… talking about… regret. And a mistake. The greatest mistake, he says. A… set of actions so… painful and crude that… he deserves to be Infected. But he writes that… it’s the price. The price of ‘devotion,’ the price to save Terra, the price against… the demons of north?”
“The hell’s up there?”
“Sami,” he states, “He… says something about two projects failing, horribly. One isn’t named, but the other is called ‘Peccato.’ Says that… Pride will take this weight and finish it. And he ends it by saying ‘Alea iacta est.’”
Pride… me?!
“The die’s been cast?”
“Yes… Isn’t Peccato… Giocatore’s surname?”
“It is,” I blink, “What the…”
“I have ideas, but next to no proof,” he squints, taking the letter, “This is good evidence for Lemuen though.”
“For the missing children’s case? Yeah, I agree.”
“But I’m here to find… a will…” he drags on, staring at the mirror, “Here, help me with this.”
“You want to take the glass off?!”
“Yes,” he states, motioning, “Please.”
“Alright,” I yawn, setting my hands on the glass, “Ready.”
With a quick yank, the entire mirror pops clean off the standing as we wrangle it down to the bed swiftly. And stappled right into the board it was covering is one pristine, stiff letter with a wax seal, curiously emblemed with Laterano’s sigil.
“That’s… from the Hall,” Ezell blinks, carefully plucking it, “No doubt this is a will,” he goes on, undoing the seal, flipping the letter open and tugging a sheet of yellowing paper out.
“Can I see?”
Staring at his face, it begins twisting. Shock, confusion, alarm. All blending, dancing, contorting. He grimaces, shuts his eyes and folds it up before neatly placing it in an internal pocket of his jacket.
“I’d… really rather you not.”
“What? Can I see the will of my own parents, Mister Executor?”
“… Sorry, you’re right,” he sighs, taking it out and handing it to me.
Quickly unfurling it, a refined blend of cursive dances all across the page. Lots of technical jargon I don’t care about, but the main things from it…
“This house is now… mine? Well, it would’ve been Eclissi’s, but she’s dead, and the next in line is me, as listed here.”
“Yes.”
“And all this shit in here… is also mine.”
“Yes.”
“What else is here…” I mutter, scanning it, “The assets of… both projects…? Are… legally… under my name now…?”
“That’s… what I saw first.”
“Wait a minute,” I blink, “Both? Peccato and that other one?”
“Yes… The fact that this will was registered and signed by a former Executor twenty-five years ago means that these projects must’ve been approved some way or another… Which means more digging around for me,” he determines.
“Twenty-five years…” I murmur, “That’s…”
“When you were born.”
“And more interestingly, five years before the missing children’s case became a thing…”
“There has to be a connection there,” Ezell seethes.
“Or just a fuck load of coincidences,” I whisper.
“It’s too many to not have a pattern. Five years is more than enough for ‘projects’ to be set up… No, you’re right. We need… more concrete answers.”
“Well you got your will.”
“That’s true. Now that you own this house, what would you like to do with it?”
“I dunno… Use it? Probably? Might have too many bad memories… Gimme a while then.”
“Take all the time you need.”
“Got it,” I gratefully say, handing back the will to him.
“There’s something else on it,” he randomly blurts, folding it up and tucking it away, “The back. It was scribbled on. Written in… in blood.”
“What… the fuck?”
“He wrote, ‘It was your ways that caused this, the reason why I hold this regret so deeply in my heart. I belong in hell, just like the daughter I so painfully sent to because of your words. You incessant heathen, mindbender and monster, Eclissi. I regret every word I said to you, and every emotion I once had for you.’ All in blood.”
“… I’m all the happier Eclissi is dead,” I breathe, feeling raw unchained hell flow through my blood, “But… Fuck, what… No… my father… The hell did he do…? Can I… I don’t want to forgive him, even if he’s dead. But… I need to know…”
“… The truth, at least,” Ezell nods, “As Nerina’s sister and friend, I’ll help you find that. As well as serving Laterano and solving this elusive case. All of it.”
“Thanks… And maybe Giocatore can get some closure. Memories, whatever.”