Belcourt walked through the mountain passes leading to their stronghold in Riverra with a slight limp. He was gritting his teeth, and his breathing was heavy. From his belt hung a black leg, frozen solid. He held one hand to his own leg where healing magic activated constantly to mend a wound. He pulled back his pant leg to look at the wound on his shin. Dark magic tried to eat away at his flesh, but the healing combatted it.

  Belcourt laughed as he looked at the wound. He muttered under his breath, “He’s good. Damn good…”

  As he watched the wound, Belcourt paused. He squinted his eyes suspiciously, then fell to the ground to study the wound deeper. His inhaled deeply as he recognized something woven into the magic.

  “…tracking me?” Belcourt looked backward, but no one was pursuing him.

  He drew a blade at his side, then calmly rolled up his pant leg and removed his boot and sock, placing them neatly next to one another. Then, with surgical detachment, cut off all beneath his knee. He held his hand with the corrupted Inquisitor’s Mark to the wound. The flesh bubbled, and then a new leg erupted from the wound. He put his socks and boot back on.

  Belcourt sighed, then grabbed the leg at his belt to compare it to the leg he’d just cut off. What a waste of power. Magic was expendable, but that contained in his Inquisitor’s Mark was anything but. He supposed he and Duke Cyril Villamar were even.

  Well… excluding what else I did to him.

  Still, Belcourt set his own severed leg back on the ground. Gray magic swirled in his hand, then consumed the leg. It perked up, made undead. It started hopping down the road, taking the wrong path.

  Track that, Belcourt urged. He took some time to reflect, calm his mind after that battle. He didn’t like fair fights. Duke Cyril must have been the one behind all that happened in the monastery. It lines up too well. Belcourt chuckled, disappointed at himself. It should have been obvious. I suppose that he’s changed his tune from last time.

  Belcourt hung his head. He’d gotten cocky. Everything had been going so swimmingly. Now, he needed to destroy everything in this stronghold and leave no evidence behind. No one could know what they were planning. Vivari would be displeased, but he could handle Vivari.

  With renewed purpose, Belcourt stood to his feet and weaved through the mountain pass without a limp. When he came to the first of the hidden passageways, it was wide open. At first he was annoyed because of their lack of vigilance. As he realized what might have happened, he sped up considerably, sprinting as fast as his body would manage. He slammed into the narrow confines of the mountain passages, causing rockfalls in his panicked fury.

  When he came to the gates of the stronghold, even they were open. Belcourt stormed into the Hells.

  His head whipped around. Nothing. The place was dead silent. He walked around for a bit, senses trained for anything that might betray any presence at all. Once again, nothing. His chest rose and fell quickly as anger hastened his breathing. With a burst of wind magic and physical strength, he leapt to the top of the spire in one elegant motion. He grabbed the iron bars on the window and tore it aside like cloth to enter.

  It was even worse than he imagined.

  The ritual hadn’t been discovered. The ritual was gone. Many of the items involved in it were too large to be taken out of this room, and so Belcourt could come to two conclusions alone. The first was that it had been destroyed, and the second was that it had been used. He walked up to the ritual circle and kneeled, placing his hand down. He could feel lingering traces of magic. That narrowed it to one conclusion.

  They’d used the ritual to activate the Jeweled Eye.

  He looked around for any traces of struggle, any evidence that Vivari had fought. There were no remnants of ice magic. There were no corpses strewn about. Nothing remained whatsoever. He had no doubts about Vivari’s loyalty to the cause. She was pathologically bound to the First Emperor, just like all of the rest.

  She may have retreated, his rational brain said. Her safehouse.

  He searched the room for evidence, and found it—white fur. His suspicions were confirmed. Heavenwatch Monastery was collaborating against them, likely with Duke Cyril. He started to gather copious amounts of gray magic in his hand.

  If he knew where we were hiding, why would he try and track me with magic? Belcourt paused to think. It was simple enough to answer. Perhaps he thought there was other information to gain. Belcourt walked down the spire, his brain still trying to deduce what it could as magic continued to swarm into his hands. This raid… it had to happen recently. I was here not hours ago. I told no one where I was going save the First Emperor himself. Did they get lucky with timing, or was this entirely improvised when Duke Cyril spotted me?

  Belcourt didn’t like to blame luck, so he had to assume this was something improvised. Their plan had been made in advance, but it was executed once they realized Belcourt was there… a plan involving the Jeweled Eye. He hadn’t told Aurelia of his plans for the Jeweled Eye yet—hadn’t disclosed its existence, even. Once again, only the First Emperor and Vivari knew. All the same, it must’ve been taken from the mausoleum in the monastery.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  If Vivari’s not in her safehouse, then we have a culprit, Belcourt thought. If she is… I’ll still check to be certain. If she’s not responsible…

  Belcourt stopped at the bottom of the spire. If Vivari wasn’t responsible, then what? Who? How?

  I need to consult the Master, Belcourt accepted.

  By now, the magic gathering in Belcourt’s hands was a raging geyser of power. He kneeled and slammed both hands down. The gray magic permeated the cracks in the stone and ascended all the way up to the top of the spire. Then, the stone brick began to separate, reform. The entire tower ceased to be a coherent structure in seconds. In only a few seconds more, they were being reassembled into humanoid shapes.

  About twelve golems fell to the ground, standing straight. He didn’t need to give them orders. They immediately moved to do his bidding.

  If there was anyone still left in this place, he would find them.

  ***

  As Lucian watched that formidable tower fall to pieces in seconds, he felt a shudder run down his back. He couldn’t see who was responsible, but there were only a few people who could turn a tower into golems. In this case, only one seemed realistic. He was lucky that the tower was one of the only places that had lighting in this place, otherwise he might not have seen it at all, or seen it too close to realize one fact.

  Belcourt Asheford was here.

  Cyril can’t even delay him right, Lucian thought. This guy loves nothing more than ruining everything I plan.

  “I wonder if they caught your friend,” Aurelia thought. “Perhaps if you hadn’t taken so long to stuff that purse of yours with items from that safehouse…”

  He was annoyed because she was right. He had been a little greedy. He assumed Belcourt wouldn’t be so brazen as to return right back here after fighting Duke Cyril—but then, it made sense if he came back only to destroy any evidence in this place, as he seemed to be doing. It was unideal, but not something he hadn’t accounted for.

  Lucian shook his head. “I told them to take the escape route the moment the ritual was done. That’s where we were headed now.” His eyes darted around as he considered his options. “We need to change plans, run to another escape place,” Lucian said.

  “Fine. Unlock my Mentor’s Seal, and I’ll get us there,” Aurelia said.

  Lucian looked at her, hesitating. With Vivari, he hadn’t been worried about undoing her Mentor’s Seal. That woman was psychotic and unreasonable, and he doubted Aurelia would ever be tempted to try and switch sides there. But now…

  She knows Belcourt, personally, Lucian reflected. He visited the monastery when she was younger, established contact. No doubt she’s been having ample conversations through dreams, too. Belcourt is reasonable enough to hear her out, and even if he’s feeling unreasonable, he’ll torture information out of her. If she gets his attention but once, gets a headstart on fleeing from me but once… that could be it for me. Aurelia reunites with Belcourt, spills all, gets amnesty, no more secrets, and I become assassination target priority #1.

  “No,” Lucian said. “We go like this. Come on.”

  “What?” Aurelia caught his arm, but untransformed she was too weak to stop him as he started running. He broke free and she winced, holding her hand as if he’d bent and hurt it. She didn’t complain as she asked, “Why would we go like this?”

  “Just shut up and come on,” Lucian said, gesturing.

  “You don’t trust me,” Aurelia said with a slight laugh. “I stood by your side in the fight against Vivari, didn’t I? No complications, no trouble, this entire way. I’ve now aided in killing Metterand and Vivari—top lieutenants, both. On top of that, I just saw what you were capable of. Why would I ever turn on you now?”

  “Won’t ask you again,” Lucian said plainly.

  “You didn’t ask to begin with—you commanded. But fine, I’ll comply,” Aurelia said. “If those golems catch up to us because of your foolishness—”

  “I also commanded something about shutting up,” Lucian said. “So, comply fully.”

  Aurelia pouted, but said no more.

  With a slight nightvision potion activated, Lucian and Aurelia ran through the darkness of the Hells. It wasn’t half as good as Charlton’s, but it sufficed not to stumble off a cliff. He kept Aurelia close at hand. This place was much more interconnected than most people assumed, and Lucian knew many exits. The Hells were a sequence breaker’s paradise. There were many horrors lurking in the Hells, but Lucian knew them well—probably better than anyone in this world. He loved sequence breaks.

  Well, in-game. Not like this, he clarified.

  Even still, the detour was considerable. He was confident it was manageable, but he would have a lot of explaining to do about where he’d been. Was he doing the wrong thing? Should he lean on Aurelia, unbind the Mentor’s Seal? She’d seen him kill Ruminian—she didn’t know how, but it seemed to have intimidated her all the same. She could positively zoom out of here.

  She was going to turn hundreds of people that loved and respected her into demonic beasts and serve them up as slaves to the First Emperor, Lucian reminded himself. She fooled them for years. Don’t ever forget who you’re dealing with.

  This situation… it looks like this was that other shoe he’d been expecting.

  ***

  Miriam held the Jeweled Eye close as the divine beasts rode out of the mountains. They were safe. They’d taken yet another path that Lucian somehow knew about. It was markedly less convenient than even the first one, but he’d worried that the other might lead them to encounter Belcourt or another such figure. This one was lowest risk. And he was right—they were safe, it seemed.

  They were. But was Lucian?

  He told them where to meet up in the event that they were separated, but Miriam felt… wrong, leaving him behind in the Hells, doubly so when he was with that terrible woman. But she knew just as well as anyone that there was nothing that she could do to change things. Those were the Hells—a place that few ever dared venture, and fewer still emerged alive. Was Lucian the few?

  I’ll wait, Miriam decided. She clutched the Jeweled Eye hidden in a pouch, as if to assure herself it was still there. I’ll wait, and protect this with my life.