Warm water.

  That’s what it felt like.

  I floated in it - weightless, endless, still. My body didn’t ache, my lungs didn’t burn. The peace was so complete it almost frightened me.

  It was a place all too familiar. One I wish I could float in forever.

  Then I felt them.

  Arms. Many of them. Soft, cold, clinging to my body - not pulling, not suffocating. Just holding me there, as if lightly embracing me. One hand rested over my eyes, gentle but unyielding, keeping me from opening them.

  I should have been afraid. Instead, I almost relaxed into it. Their touch brought a sense of comfort and familiarity - one I had been craving for a long time.

  Until I remembered.

  The fire. The screams. The black blade.

  The lead Inquisitor.

  My chest tightened. The memory forced itself through the calm like a knife through silk. I tried to push it away, to sink back into that warmth - but the thought wouldn’t leave.

  An anger I couldn't explain yet welled up in my chest.

  The hands clung tighter, as if begging me to stay.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered into the dark. “I need to wake up now.”

  The hand covering my eyes hesitated. Then, slowly, it lifted.

  Light broke through.

  ---

  The first thing I saw was gold.

  Curtains - embroidered with golden threads, swaying in a breeze that smelled faintly of roses and dust. Morning light spilled through the windows, turning the whole room into a painting.

  For a second, I just stared. After everything, the quiet felt unreal.

  Then the familiarity struck me.

  This room.

  The same one I’d woken up in after the mansions massacre.

  I was then reminded of who owned this room, and the anger from before bloomed again.

  My gaze fell to the chair beside my bed. A small leather book with golden embroidery that seemed more expensive than my whole apartment, and a black obsidian fountain pen rested on it, their placement too deliberate to be random.

  Seems I've had visitors.

  “Of course,” I muttered, swinging my legs off the bed. “Can't even get some rest without being watched by something.”

  My muscles protested as I stood, but I ignored the pain. I didn’t bother with the mirror or the disheveled state of my clothes. I didn’t care. My anger didn't allow it.

  I had questions.

  And one man had the answers.

  ---

  The halls of the Regent’s estate were quiet, servants moving through them like ghosts. A few stopped when they saw me, concern flickering in their eyes. I didn’t slow down long enough for them to speak.

  Each step carried more anger than the last.

  By the time I reached the double doors of the Regent’s office, my pulse was hammering. Two guards stood at attention on either side.

  “Young master Damian has awoken,” one said, knocking twice.

  A pause. Then the Regent’s voice from within-

  “Let him in.”

  The doors opened.

  Before I could open my mouth, I had to immediately dash the thought from my mind.

  Because Mary was the first thing I saw.

  She stood from her chair immediately, eyes wide with relief as she saw me. The sight of me must’ve been pathetic - exhausted, unkempt, still half-bandaged - but she didn’t hesitate.

  She quickly walked towards me as her hand reached my forehead, fingers brushing lightly through my hair as she inspected the wound.

  Her touch was cool. Careful.

  “Your head was pretty injured,” she murmured, eyes shimmering with gentle care. “You shouldn’t be moving around yet.”

  “I’ve had worse,” I said, staring at the ceiling while trying to avoid eye contact.

  She frowned, but her voice softened. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re okay.”

  A quiet cough broke the moment.

  The Regent. Still behind his desk, still immaculate.

  Mary’s face flushed slightly. She drew back, straightening her dress with a nervous smile. “Ah - sorry. I’ll give you two privacy.”

  She hesitated at the door, looking back at me. “Come to Saint Patrick’s Cathedral tomorrow morning. Please?”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I nodded once, smiling lightly.

  When the door closed, the warmth left with her.

  The Regent sighed, leaning back in his chair. “That girl can be hopeless sometimes,” he said, almost fondly. “A shining beam of light in a dark world. One that won’t last.”

  I stared at him.

  The anger that had been simmering finally boiled over as my eyes could no longer hold their listless facade.

  He looked up from his papers, catching my expression in faint surprise. “Oh? What’s with that-”

  “Do you take me for a fool?”

  The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t stop.

  His eyes darkened slightly. “Watch your tongue, boy.”

  “You were there last night,” I said. “The lead Inquisitor. The one with the black blade. The other two - your partners.”

  He blinked once. “I thought that was obvious. Is that really all-”

  “And you were the one who took me from the Nameless Ones,” I cut in, voice trembling with fury. “The one who ordered the children burned. You’ve known what I am - what I carry - since the beginning. You planned to use me from the very beginning, didn't you?”

  The room fell silent.

  The Regent’s gaze sharpened, his tone turning cold. “So the Bishop really did fill your head with nonsense.”

  “I saw it.” I stepped closer. “Not in words. In memory. You can’t deny it.”

  His expression shifted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Ah. So that’s what he did.” He chuckled under his breath. “I told that fanatic collecting burned children’s eyes was unorthodox. Never thought it would come back to bite me.”

  “You knew,” I said. “You knew what this - this thing in me was.”

  “It’s not a thing,” he corrected smoothly. “It’s an extremely ancient and immense power. A tool. And a useful one, if you stop whining long enough to use it properly.”

  My nails dug into my palms. “Is that all the children were to you? Tools? Sacrifices?”

  The Regent’s eyes darkened completely. “The only reason you’re alive, Damian, is because you were the first child in history to carry this power without it consuming you. The others were not. Their deaths were inevitable, and a necessary step. Nothing more.”

  The glass inkpot on his desk shattered against the wall before I realized I’d flung it across the room.

  Ink splattered across his papers like blood.

  In an instant, a blade of black extended from his hand - so close I could feel the chill of it against my throat.

  His voice was quiet now. Too quiet.

  “Mind yourself.”

  “Is this it?” I hissed. “Your grand Empire? Built on corpses and excuses?”

  He exhaled through his nose, irritated. “If I’d spared them, the Nameless Ones would have rebuilt within a year. One survivor is all it takes, and another batch of innocent children would be slaughtered like before. You think mercy builds nations? You think sentiment wins wars? You're intelligent and pragmatic, Damian, that's why I allow you so much independence. But you're still so incredibly naive, and you cling to your humanity uselessly like a pathetic child.”

  I gritted my teeth, refusing to look away as I stared him down.

  “To what extent,” I said slowly, “does the end justify the means, then? What is your end, Regent?”

  He smiled faintly. “The end is justified, so long as those paying the price believe it was worth it. The Empire and its people have carried that belief for millennia, and will for millennia more to come."

  The Regent than got more serious, his eyes staring directly into mine. "All you need to know is that my end is not so different from yours. So stop asking questions that will get you killed.”

  “And if I keep asking?”

  The blade pressed harder against my throat. “Then I won’t hesitate.”

  Despite myself, I smiled. One of assured confidence.

  “You won’t kill me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A tool that causes more trouble than it’s worth is disposable.”

  I tilted my head slightly, smirk widening. “You won’t kill me,” I repeated, “because your beloved niece cares too much for me now.”

  A flicker. A twitch of the jaw - small, but there.

  He noticed me noticing.

  His smile returned, calm and empty. “If that’s your plan-”

  “It’s not,” I said quietly. “Just a convenient side effect.”

  The blade lingered a heartbeat longer, then dissolved back into smoke.

  The Regent laughed.

  Not the polite chuckle I’d heard him give nobles at banquets or officers during briefings - this was different. A real, unrestrained laugh. It filled the room like smoke, rich and strange, and for a second I forgot he was the same man who had ordered an entire underground hideout full of children burned to destroy his enemies.

  It was enough to even calm my anger, more from awkwardness than appeasement.

  When he finally calmed, wiping a tear from his eye, he looked almost human.

  “As much as it pains me to admit,” he said, still smiling faintly, “you’re not wrong. I don’t know how my ‘trust no one, get close to nothing’ niece turned into this. I must admit, I didn't expect it.” He tilted his head, still amused. “Let’s just blame it on… adolescence.”

  I smiled back, though it felt more like my face was cracking.

  If only you knew, Mary and I’s friendship began with a shared heresy. One of the highest order, actually.

  Then again, the best friendships are usually built on secrets.

  The Regent chuckled again, then his tone flattened, the warmth fading. “You’re dismissed for the day. Have a rest for now, you'll meet with me after your little excursion with my niece. Although we have uprooted the main problem, its little seedlings still remain.”

  I nodded lightly.

  The traitors still remain, and they won't sit still either.

  I was about to turn around, until I heard the Regent continue.

  “Also, if your truly so desperate for answers, I’ll make you a deal. One question - every time you advance a Seal in your Pathway. As long as I feel like answering it, of course.”

  That caught me off guard.

  “Most people don’t even reach the Ninth seal in ten years,” I said slowly. “If they make it that far without going mad.”

  He shrugged, unbothered. “Then I suppose you’d better get stronger quickly.”

  I huffed a short laugh. “So since I’m already at the Eleventh, do I get a question now?”

  “You already asked it.”

  Of course he’d say that.

  I forced a tight smile. “Naturally.”

  He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a faint sigh through his nose. Then the temperature in the room dropped. The air itself grew heavy, thick, hard to breathe.

  When he spoke again, his voice had lost all warmth.

  “One more thing, Damian. If I ever see my niece put in harm’s way again - if even a single hair on her head is touched - whatever she suffers, you’ll feel tenfold.”

  The pressure hit me like a mountain.

  My knees buckled slightly. The air around me vibrated with his Divine presence, the kind that stripped away pride and left only instinct: kneel, obey, survive.

  I clenched my jaw, refusing to bend completely. “It’s ironic,” I said through gritted teeth, “how the man who calls my humanity useless defends his niece’s with such passion.”

  The weight vanished as suddenly as it came.

  He sighed, almost tired. “She’s not a dispensable tool like you, Damian.”

  Well, thanks, I guess.

  He folded his hands on the desk. “Mary will see the ugliness of this world one day. When that time comes, I won’t let her face it unprepared. Until then, I’ll protect her from it.”

  “And if you can’t?” I asked quietly. “If she’s left on her own? Whose to stop it from consuming her entirely?”

  The Regent paused for a fraction of a second before smiling. Not kindly. Not even proudly. It was the kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes - the kind that hinted at a plan already set in motion.

  Without even knowing the meaning behind it, I already hated it.

  “Thank you, Damian.”

  I frowned. “For what?”

  He didn’t answer. “I’ll explain later.”

  ---

  I left the office without another word.

  The corridors felt colder now, emptier. I passed servants again, their voices distant murmurs I couldn’t quite catch.

  When I reached the room I’d woken up in, I started gathering what little belonged to me - shirt, coat, a half-torn glove.

  Then I noticed the chair.

  The book and pen that had been there mere minutes ago - now gone.

  I stared at the empty space for a long moment, a weird feeling in my chest.

  The wind caught the golden curtains, making them flutter like flames. They looked the same as the day I first woke here.

  Beautiful, untouched.

  And yet, one thought wouldn’t leave me-

  If Mary had been one of those children, would the Regent’s end still be justified?

  I doubted it.