Grigory Yusupov, the Alchemist Grand Master, sat at his desk, his back warmed by the crackling fire behind him. He studied the heavy Alchemist sitting opposite him. Dominik Pozharsky, Anton had informed him. Anton had given him a truth extract ten minutes ago. It would begin its work soon.
Anton Voronin stood by the fire and poked it, causing the embers to hiss and pop. Without a doubt, he played with his favourite toy, the dishonoured brand.
Dominik wrung his hands, his gaze darting around the room as if seeking an escape. No guards waited in the large room with them—though they did stand outside the door, listening for the slightest sign of trouble. Dominik’s eyelids drooped, and his head lolled back as his system finished absorbing the truth extract.
Grigory leaned forwards, fingers steepled before him. After many decades, he still hadn’t grown accustomed to the absence of the middle, ring and little finger on his left hand. “Dominik Pozharsky?”
Dominik’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared, unfocused, at Grigory. “Yes,” he said, his voice slurred.
“Tell me exactly what happened in Katavsk yesterday when Mikhail Koskov visited you. Do not miss a single detail.”
The story began, stilted and disjointed as Dominik rambled, jumping back and forth as he recalled the event. While Grigory was well used to having information delivered in this fashion, it still took intense focus to reconstruct the scene in his mind.
As he suspected, Elana had gained some kind of control over the uzhas—enough to discover its sentience and walk out of the Guild despite an army fighting to hold her captive. A shame, but that information was out now. Anton’s soldiers had failed, and the rumour of sentient uzhas had begun its cancerous growth. At least Elana had killed Chernov, removing the need for him to see the incompetent man disposed of. Something Dominik said caught Grigory’s attention, and he refocused on Dominik. “Repeat that.”
“Elana wrote, ‘Do not trust the Guild, they’re murderers. Find Dominik Pozharsky, he knows the truth.’ ”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
With shaking hands, Grigory ripped open the top draw on his desk and removed a worn journal. Elana Koskova’s journal. He flipped to the last page, the page that Mikhail had read before pretending he didn’t understand the code. Elana had scrawled two lines across the centre of the page. Fifteen words. Mikhail told Dominik fourteen words.
Grigory’s shoulders sagged. Perhaps it wasn’t an exact quote after all. He growled in frustration. It needed to be exact in order to decipher the journal.
Then it struck him. Elana hadn’t written “they’re” as Dominik said, she’d written “they are.” Finally, he had the key. He had the key to Elana’s work—a way to control an unstoppable force of uzhas.
“Your time is over, Sentinels,” he whispered, smiling. He rose and turned to Anton. “Give the order to stop all supply of extracts and Alchemtek to the Sentinels and Warrior Guild. And pull back all our Alchemists immediately. By the week’s end, I want every Alchemist within these walls.”
Anton ducked his head. “And Pozharsky?”
Grigory glanced at the Alchemist. “We no longer need him. Your daughter can see to his disposal.”
***
An ice storm blasted across the tundra several miles north of Mount Zilpuv, ripping at Elana’s blue Alchemist Coat and flicked her white hair into her eyes. She brushed the strand away, giving a brief thought to the fact that she should be shivering from the wind and ice.
Not with us in you, the Sila, Yustitsiya, responded to the thought, its strange, disembodied voice echoing in her mind. Now lets free the rest of the Sila.
Elana nodded slowly, eying the Alchemist mine dug high into the mountain range. Once they bonded with the Sila residing in the mountain—a thousand times the amount currently living in her—they’d destroy the Alchemist facility, reducing the mine to rubble, then return and annihilate anyone who ever abused the Sila, twisting it into uzhasgart.
That was me, once, Elana thought.
But you’ve changed, we see that.
Can’t my people change? My family have used murdered Sila unwittingly.
Rage flared through Elana’s mind, threatening to overwhelm her. We are not here to bargain. We’re here to free ourself. Now go!
Elana strode toward the mine. Her family would survive. So long as they stayed far, far away from her and the mine…
Also, while you're at it... go ahead and check out this great GameLit story. Eotheis does a great job in delivering a relatable family man MC just trying to get home.
