I didn’t even remember collapsing into the chair. One moment I was shrugging my coat off my shoulders, the next I was staring into the cracked mirror above my desk.

  Pale skin. Dark circles smudged beneath my eyes like bruises I hadn’t earned. My reflection looked half-dead already.

  I stripped down to my shirt, tossed my cap aside, and dropped into bed.

  The moment my head hit the pillow, the world gave out.

  No drifting, no drowsy crawl into unconsciousness. Just - falling.

  The mattress dissolved under me like water, soft cotton turning fluid, sucking me down with a weightless pull. My breath caught, but I didn’t open my eyes. I let myself sink, deeper and deeper, arms loose at my sides.

  It felt… good. Peaceful. Like being suspended in a lake, the cold embracing me instead of cutting. My body untensed for the first time in days.

  But the silence didn’t last.

  Eight words slithered through the water, faint at first.

  The Empire must survive, or everyone will die.

  Over and over, louder, heavier.

  The voice was not mine. Rough. A man’s. Familiar in a way that scraped my nerves raw.

  I clenched my jaw, refusing to open my eyes. The words pressed against my skull, vibrating in my teeth, each syllable twisting the water around me into knives.

  The Empire must survive, or everyone will die.

  “Shut up,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

  The voice pressed harder, louder, until it wasn’t a whisper but a scream.

  “Shut UP!”

  I snapped my eyes open-

  -and the water was gone.

  Golden bronze bars. A chair. Straps biting into my wrists and chest. The same cage as before.

  And across from me, Charlotte.

  Her legs crossed neatly, porcelain fingers holding a teacup, steam curling from the rim. Her crimson eyes glowed faintly as she watched me, her head tilted with sharp interest, like a scholar dissecting a puzzle box.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, tilting the cup against her lips.

  My head hung low. My breath rasped shallow through clenched teeth. “What’s the point.”

  She said nothing - only sipped, eyes never leaving me.

  That gaze. As though I was the most fascinating thing in the world. It crawled against my skin until I finally looked away.

  “Why am I back here?” I muttered.

  Charlotte’s lips parted into a mock pout. “What, do you hate my company that much?”

  I glared. “Just get on with it.”

  She dabbed at her mouth delicately with a handkerchief, then folded her hands in her lap. “I thought,” she said, her tone light, “you might finally want to talk about my gift.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I let the silence stretch. My jaw ached.

  Finally, I sighed. “Maybe I should.”

  Her eyes glimmered faintly. “Good. Then ask.”

  I shifted against the restraints, meeting her gaze. “That premonition - the way I see a life-threatening attack before it happens. Is that… a gift of your eyes?”

  Charlotte inclined her head. “The first gift of my eyes, yes. Premonition. A fragment of fate slipping through the cracks.”

  She tapped her teacup, crimson reflecting in its porcelain. “But understand this. The ‘pathway’ you follow is not conventional. It is only a cover for what you truly wield. Still… it mirrors the same structure. Seals. You could say you stand at the twelfth now, waiting to break the eleventh.”

  I swallowed. “…And every seal I break gives me another gift.”

  Her smile thinned. “Correct.”

  “What’s next, then?” I pressed.

  Her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. “That, I do not know. It depends on your soul - and how it chose to integrate me. My twelve gifts will not adhere to order. They never do.”

  I exhaled through my nose. My head dropped. “…So that anxious feeling I get sometimes? That’s not you?”

  “No.” She leaned forward slightly, red eyes gleaming brighter. “Perhaps it’s only intuition. A good one, at that.”

  I muttered under my breath. “Didn’t show up before Halrigg pulled a gun on me. Some intuition.”

  Her smile returned, faint and unreadable.

  I lifted my head again, narrowing my eyes. “Any of your gifts work in combat? Direct combat, I mean.”

  She sipped her tea, unhurried. “The path of fate is not a blade to swing. It is subtle. It bends. It reshapes. It cuts deeper than steel, but not where you expect.”

  I frowned. “So that’s where my other pathway comes in.”

  For the first time, her expression shifted. Eyebrows furrowed, a flicker of disapproval. “It should remain your last resort.”

  I was a bit shocked to see her pristine face show a negative emotion, but I merely nodded once, filing it away.

  “…Do you know who the Black Sun cult really are?”

  Charlotte tilted her head, crimson eyes dimming as though retreating into thought. “No,” she said finally, her voice low, distant. “But their bishop… the way he slips in and out of reality. I can guess what pathway he follows. And who his ancestor was.”

  Her fingers traced the rim of her teacup. “He inherited the Pathway of the Hidden. His bloodline runs back to a man I barely spoke with. But from the little I knew…” Her lips pressed into the faintest smile, her eyes melancholic. “He was kind. Determined. A man who believed in keeping others safe, even at his own expense.”

  Her expression lingered in that melancholy for only a moment before she straightened, the glow in her gaze sharpening again.

  My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Her head tilted. “You’re too weak to know the truth. For now.”

  I could only shake my head.

  How'd I know she was going to say that.

  “The stronger you become,” she continued smoothly, “the more the truth will reveal itself. But the more you learn too soon… the more dangerous you become. To everyone. Even yourself.”

  A bitter sigh escaped me. “Perfect. Another dead end.”

  Her eyes never left mine as I muttered on. “And the Silent Choir… do you know them? Cloaked, masked, smugglers that deal in letters, weapons, information.”

  She shook her head lightly. “Never heard of them.”

  I cursed under my breath, the words spilling now. “So I’m wasting time chasing shadows. Investigating loose ends, every step leading me exactly where that Bishop wants me. Playing his little game. I’ve already seen the slaughterhouse they’re herding me to. Hell, he even left me a note. Some riddle about pigs.” My hands flexed against the straps. “And now, I’m probably stuck. A dead end.”

  Charlotte interrupted, her voice soft but cutting. “Did you use my eyes to look at the note?”

  I blinked. Slowly.

  “…What?”

  She leaned in, resting her chin on her hands, studying me like a flame through glass. “He may have left you a message. A message meant only for you. He seemed to take quite a liking to you and my eyes, after all.”

  My eyes widened. My chest tightened with sudden realisation. “…Maybe he did.”

  I fell silent, thoughts colliding too fast to form words. The memory of that crude drawing. The smeared script. The paper in my hands still stained with my own blood. My only thought was wanting to wake up as fast as possible, any frustration from before quickly erased.

  Charlotte only watched. Her face propped on her hands, eyes shining with amusement.

  After a long silence, she spoke again, voice hushed but piercing. “Tell me, Damian. What pushes you this far? What truly drives you?”

  The question hung heavy. I hesitated.

  “…Sometimes,” I admitted, “even I don’t know.” My voice lowered, almost to a whisper. “But it’s not like I have a choice.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, still glowing bright. “Would you like to enlighten me on what that means?”

  Despite myself, I smirked faintly. “Once I’m stronger, maybe I will.”

  Charlotte chuckled lightly. A soft, lilting sound, like glass chimes in the wind. “I should have expected that.”

  The room began to blur. Her face wavered through a haze, as though sleep itself was tugging me under.

  Charlotte raised her teacup once more, crimson eyes never leaving mine as the world grew dim. “Then until next time… good luck, Inquisitor Damian, who has no family.”

  The last thing I saw before the dream shattered was her smile - gentle, amused, and full of something I couldn’t name.