I looked to my left.

  The hallway was bleached in golden light - Arthur stood at the center, his divine energy burning around him like a miniature sun.

  I only grinned, using the wall to keep myself from collapsing.

  There's only so much my nerves can handle.

  Arthur rushed over, his eyes scanning me, then flicking toward Mary.

  “Your Highness,” he said, voice clipped and tense as he bowed hurriedly. “I've been ordered to escort you out. Damian, you're with me. If either of you die tonight, it will be a devastating blow to the Empire.”

  His voice held the edge of command - but there was a flicker of something else too.

  Relief.

  For a second.

  Then gunfire cracked through the air, snapping the moment in half.

  “He wasn’t alone, was he?” I asked, though I already knew.

  Arthur’s jaw clenched. His golden aura crackled.

  “It happened all at once,” he muttered, eyes downward in anger. “An explosion in the west wing took out half of the Nobles instantly - all part of the military. They’re attempting to gut Morren's senior military leadership.”

  Arthur looked increasingly frustrated with every word.

  “We got complacent. I got complacent. We assumed the cults had no place in Morren anymore, and that has lead to our fate now.”

  He looked at Mary, then me, and only shook his head.

  “Then the Grand Cardinal vanished - leaving me to find you two. The Regents organized a retreat of the remaining nobles, and has been cut off by the black miasma in the hall. Even the windows have been blocked by some extremely powerful alchemy. This attack was anything but random. This was planned for a long time.”

  I only looked at him, raising my eyebrows.

  "Black miasma?"

  Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You'll see very soon what I'm talking about."

  Well shit. This wasn't an assassination attempt. It was a declaration. We're alive. We're organized. And we're capable.

  I said nothing. There wasn't time for reflection. The gunshots were getting closer, and Charlotte's Gift throbbed again - a hot pulse in my skull, intensifying the closer we moved to danger. Like a compass made of nerve endings and nightmares.

  "We're here," Arthur said, pushing open the grand double doors to the central hall.

  Darkness. Not just absence of light - the suppression of it. Arthur raised his hand and a brilliant golden aura burst forth, forcing the shadows back. The divine glow carved a thin path through the pitch, leading toward the massive pearl-inlaid exit at the far end of the room. From here, I saw it. The fog. Not mist. Not smoke. Fog that moved, that swallowed light, that breathed and pulsed as if alive.

  Arthur stepped forward. "Your Highness, behind me. Damian, you're her shield now."

  I looked back at Mary. She stood despite the fear she tried to hide, her eyes showing determination and calmness, as though she wasn't affected by the whole situation. She wasn't breaking. And I refused to be outdone by a girl. I gave her a half-smile and faced forward again, tightening my grip on the revolver.

  Arthur's voice rang out, solemn and sharp. "When I say run, you run. No matter what you hear. No matter who you see. They aren't real. They're all possessed, and are as good as dead either way."

  We nodded and stepped into the fog.

  It reacted instantly - a shiver rolled through it like something alive had just woken up. Arthur's blade flashed golden, slicing through the dark until it met flesh. A figure lunged. A butler. Arthur cleaved him from head to hip, and the fog swallowed the blood like it was hungry.

  "RUN!" Arthur shouted over his shoulder.

  We sprinted. Gunfire boomed beyond the mansion walls. Screams. Metal. Chaos. The fog thickened, and then the shadows moved. I saw them - afterimages, flickers of motion, lunges, crawls, twisted limbs stretching out like starved memories.

  A man tried to stab me in the neck. I shot him in the face before he could even get halfway. Another dove from the side with a sword - I kicked him mid-air, then shot him in the gut. Charlotte's Eyes… they're unreal. Arthur tore through the dark like a celestial executioner, his sword a sun slicing shadows. Shit, he's fast.

  Something sharp grazed my side. I twisted, too slow to avoid some damage, and Mary stabbed him in the back. The man in a butler uniform jerked, gurgled, then collapsed. Her hands shook around the bloody knife as she stared at what she'd done, frozen.

  "Don't stop," I barked, pulling her forward. "Keep running!"

  Her face was pale, horrified, but she obeyed. Arthur cut another down, and we kept pushing through. Three bullets left.

  Another came - this time a rifle aimed right at my head. I shot him in his temple. One grabbed my throat. I twisted, slammed him back, fired point-blank. One bullet.

  The doors were close. Arthur carved the path with blazing golden light. Then a pistol rose from the smoke, aimed at Mary. He was quick, but I was quicker.

  The pistol dropped, lifeless.

  Dead. But now I'm empty.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Then I saw it - a child charging me with a kitchen blade. Shit. No time, and I had no bullets either. The shadows surged, intercepting his strike just enough to stop the blade from hitting home. I ripped the knife from Mary's trembling hand and swung. The edge slashed clean across the boy's neck.

  He collapsed, clutching his throat, eyes wide. His eyes started to transform, their previous cloudiness making way for something else. Not vacant. Not hollow. Clear. And they looked like mine.

  Tears welled as blood bubbled at his lips. He stared at me - not with hate, not with rage. Just… a boy. His mouth moved soundlessly, gurgling. He reached a shaking hand toward me, then fell still. My body locked. Breath caught. My stomach twisted. He looked like me. For a split second, I couldn't move.

  "Damian!" Arthur's shout ripped through the haze, his golden aura flaring and yanking me back into the fight.

  I staggered, blinked, and shoved the thought down where it couldn't follow me. Not now. I grabbed Mary and burst through the doors into light.

  We were alive.

  Light. Blinding, sharp, unrelenting.

  After so much darkness, it felt like staring into the sun. I instinctively threw an arm over my eyes, flinching against the sudden shift.

  Behind me, the mansion’s great doors slammed shut. The sound echoed like a judgment. Footsteps thundered from every direction. Voices barked commands. Someone grabbed me by the arm, hauling me forward.

  I was too drained to protest. My body felt heavy - sluggish, wrung dry of strength. I stumbled as the man guided me down the stone steps, into the cold.

  My vision swam. The light wasn’t just blinding - it pierced. Behind my eyes, something screamed. A pulse, deep and primal, thundered through my skull like war drums. The shadow I’d called… hadn’t left cleanly. It clung. It burned. And my awakening had only amplified it.

  My ears rang, not with sound - but with whispering. Except this time I understood it.

  “They saw us.”

  “You weren’t supposed to be seen.”

  “She’s watching again.”

  “She’s been watching for so long now.”

  My head jerked up, scanning the courtyard for hidden eyes-

  Just soldiers. Just noise. Sweat still ran down my spine.

  Bodies were lined up on the wall, all with the same hole in their foreheads. Most likely summarily executed. Most likely guilty by association.

  I felt their eyes follow me, as though they were watching.

  I could swear one was staring right into my eyes, his head following my figure as I was dragged through the courtyard. But after I blinked, what remained was a lifeless corpse, its head slumped.

  My head panged with pain.

  My damn head. It feels like my brains been dragged through sand paper.

  The night air cut into my lungs like ice, shocking my system back into motion. I gasped, blinked through the brightness - and saw chaos.

  A soldier was guiding me. A bolt-action rifle slung over his shoulder, his grip firm on my arm. His face finally came into focus.

  Adrian.

  He crouched in front of me, his brow knit with concern. “You alright, Damian? What happened in there? What did you see?”

  My mind was molasses. The adrenaline was gone, leaving only a ringing skull and fragmented memories.

  Before I could answer, a familiar voice cut in like a blade.

  “Are you daft?”

  Arthur.

  He strode over from a nearby officer, annoyance plain on his face.

  “He’s suffering from Aetheris sickness. What he needs is a medic, not an interrogation.”

  Adrian snapped upright, saluting on instinct. “Y-yes, sir!”

  He hesitated just a moment before adding, low enough that he probably thought Arthur wouldn’t hear.

  “…fuck. Sorry, Damian. I'll be back soon.”

  I managed a faint smile, despite my clouded mind. “I’m fine.”

  Arthur didn’t argue, just knelt beside me, a hand steady on my shoulder.

  “She’s safe,” he said. “Her Highness was evacuated. The Regent himself pulled her out - she didn’t want to go, practically begged to stay. But he wouldn’t have it. Especially with how shaken up she was,” He smirked faintly. “You’re lucky, though. He left me behind to do the cleanup with you.”

  Wonderful. Just wonderful.

  So the princess gets dragged away at the highest priority, while I’m made to sit on the ground without a single look.

  At least they owe me now, the posh bastards.

  Near the mansion entrance stood a high-ranking Imperial officer in bright blue and gold, but my eyes weren’t on him. They were on who he was speaking to.

  Figures in seamless black, head to toe. Faces swallowed in deep hoods and mechanical masks that seemed to move with preciseness. No skin. No sound.

  Inquisitors.

  The officer saluted and stepped aside.

  In silence, the trio advanced toward the mansion. Each reached for the small, metallic hilts at their sides. With a click, the hilts extended into blades so thin they seemed like paper.

  Their divinity didn’t radiate from their bodies. It bled from their weapons.

  The first distorted the air itself, reality bending and twisting around the black jade like shimmer of his blade.

  The second flaked with hoarfrost, every swing trailing frozen motes that hissed against the stone.

  The third melted like molten rock, dripping heat and glowing red-orange, the air around it warping like a mirage.

  Black. Blue. Red.

  Three unnatural stars burning in the courtyard.

  The black-hooded figures moved like smoke. I counted three. Then four. Then three again. My head swam.

  What the hell is happening to me...

  Arthur’s jaw clenched. “…The Inquisition’s involved. This just got worse.”

  I stared at their figures with cautious eyes.

  Much worse.

  The doors burst open. A gust of wind swept the courtyard. No aura. No divine ripple. As if nothing had happened at all.

  The Inquisitors stepped inside.

  And the doors shut behind them.

  No sound. No trace.

  Arthur’s eyes never left the door. “Whatever’s happening in there now… is above our pay grade.”

  Soldiers kept working. Stretchers. Dead bodies. Orders barked sharp and clear. The chaos was gone, replaced by a rigid calm. The Inquisitors’ presence had cut through panic like a blade.

  I tilted my head back, eyes drifting to the stars. Exhaustion surged.

  The boy’s face haunted me still. Pale skin. Brown eyes.

  Even as the dark finally claimed me, I could still see him. Still staring.

  This isn’t about me anymore.

  This isn’t just about this city.

  This is about the entire Empire.

  As the same thought racked my brain again and again, sleep rapidly claimed me.

  The last thing I saw was Adrian's worried face as he rushed over with a priest that was most likely taken from a local church.

  Good… at least now I can keep my hand...

  With that final thought, exhaustion finally claimed me.