Chapter 35: The Journal

  Once outside, I realized I had no clue where Halden Heights even was. And considering how unhelpful the staff members inside the Divine were, I’d probably find it faster by rolling around on my side like a barrel than by asking them for directions.

  And still, Skyhaven was huge. It might’ve been smaller than Orlinth in both width and length, but it was still hundreds of miles long and wide. I couldn’t just walk around hoping a street sign would fall into my hands. The only blessing was that the Divine was dead-center in the middle of the platform. Meaning that even in the worst case, I’d only need to cross…half the platform?

  Wait – why did I think that was a blessing again?

  Fuck me…I must really be getting desperate if I count shit like these as blessings.

  I glanced around. The street was more crowded now than when I arrived. Not as crowded as an Orlinth street, but still visibly packed. The road in front of the tower had automaton carriages rolling by.

  Should I try to stop one?

  I briefly considered using Afterimage, but quickly decided against it. After all the Déjà vus that hit me since morning, I’d rather not use any of the Deja vu System’s skills unless I really had to.

  Across the road, a couple stopped a carriage. The man raised his COG arm parallel to the ground and pushed it slightly forward onto the road.

  Desperate, I mimicked the gesture.

  Two minutes passed. No one stopped. But in my defense, there weren’t any carriages passing by in these two minutes either.

  My shoulder was already starting to ache when one finally appeared…and drove past me like I didn’t exist.

  The Enforcer guarding the Divine, a black-haired man with a deep scar on his right cheek, burst into laughter behind me. “What a fool.”

  I turned sharply. “Excuse me?”

  He was still grinning, less cruel now and more like watching a toddler doing something for the first time. “You ever wonder why you don’t have these babies down in Orlinth? Of course, it didn’t stop. It wasn’t designed to. The only way you are riding one is if a Skyhavener ordered it – for you.”

  I frowned. “Then where’s the tram?”

  That broke him. The man doubled over, slapping his knee like I’d told the joke of the year.

  Anger bubbled within me. I was one mana crystal away from lighting him up on fire and accepting this run as a loss.

  Eventually, he wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, you were serious? Didn’t strike you odd there weren’t any rails around? Damn, kid. There’re no trams in Skyhaven. People here travel in style – either personal carriages or one of the registered ride services designed for Skyhaven residents only.”

  Of course.

  His words reminded me of the sad truth I had always known about Skyhaven. This place didn’t want Orlinthers to feel welcomed. Sure, they invited us from time to time to conduct some business, but that was pretty much it. After that, they didn’t even show you the door. They just expected you to leave on your own. And as fast as possible. And don't even get me started with the Foundry residents...

  “Then how do I even get around?” I asked, exasperated.

  The Enforcer chuckled again. “Well, you gave me a good laugh. Might as well help you out.”

  He gestured lazily down the street at a small, unmanned kiosk, guarded by a towering Guardian-type automaton. “See that kiosk? Scan your COG at the register and buy today’s newspaper. It loads straight – “

  “Into your COG. I know. We have this in Orlinth too. What does that have to do with traveling through Skyhaven?” I cut in, already irritated by his patronizing tone.

  The Enforcer raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing again. “Oh, my apologies, Your Highness. I had no idea Orlinthers could read.”

  I rolled my eyes before glancing at his brass badge, reading his name. “Can you just please help me out, Captain Duran?”

  He chuckled. “Alright, alright. No need to get snappy. If you buy the extended version of the newspaper, it comes with a detailed Skyhaven map loaded into your COG as a present. It’s this week’s surprise. Usually, it’s just second-grade paintings made by the oligarchs’ talentless children with some lofty quotes underneath. You know the type.”

  I stared at him. “I don’t, actually.”

  He laughed again.

  Seriously, I was about to kill him.

  Then he glanced at my COG – or rather on my arm. “Damn, are you a lefty?”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “Ambidextrous.” I replied, growing impatient. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing.” He replied with a faint smile. “Just a rare thing to see. Ambidextrous people are even rarer than lefties.”

  I shook my head, switching the topic back before he wasted any more of my time. “What am I supposed to do with a map?”

  Still grinning, the Enforcer shrugged. “I don’t know. You find the place you’re looking for and…you walk?”

  Then he started laughing again.

  ***

  I did as he told me. Got the extended version of the newspaper. Got the map. Continued on foot.

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  When I finally reached Halden Heights, I had already accepted that I wasn’t going back to the Divine this run. My feet hurt so much I’d rather just collapse inside Stanford’s house after we talked and wait for Erebus’ rogue automatons to kill us all. There was no chance I was walking anywhere else this run.

  My legs throbbed, muscles sore, and I was sure I’d grown a few calluses along the way.

  I glanced at my COG to check the time.

  [17:11]

  The Expo had started eleven minutes ago.

  My heart ached as I realized I left Trent all alone. He was going to die surrounded by people that despised him for his address.

  I'm sorry, Trent. I'm sorry for leaving you alone there. I hope that once this is all over and I can finally talk about my insane battle against a god, a time looper, the literal embodiment of Darkness, and – worst of all – amnesia, you’ll forgive me. Even if you won't remember any of it.

  Using the street signs, I found my way to the 2nd Promenade and started searching for house number forty-two.

  By the time I found it, I could barely move. My legs were ready to give out, and the cold had settled deep in my bones. Two hours of nonstop walking with barely anything to keep me warm from Skyhaven’s winds had finally caught up with me – I felt nauseous.

  Then a terrifying thought hit me.

  What if Stanford got tired of waiting and already went to the Divine? The Expo was under the CMA’s jurisdiction – I assume he was expected to be there during the event. When he sent me his address, he probably didn’t think I’d take this long.

  I sighed. Heavily.

  But as my Dad always said: ‘What’s done is done. No point crying over could'ves, should’ves, would’ves. Just do what you can.”

  And so I will.

  I stepped up to the door and knocked twice using the heavy metal ring.

  Nothing.

  I waited, then knocked again.

  Still no answer.

  Fuck. He was at the Divine after all. I’d missed him.

  I looked around. The street was quiet, no one in sight. My best move now…might be to go inside. This run was already lost – too much time had passed. Valdemar would soon release the automatons on Skyhaven - if he hadn’t already. I might as well salvage something from Stanford’s house for the next loop.

  Now, how the fuck do I get in without alerting the neighbors?

  Every break-in method I could think of involved making noise, and the lit windows in nearby houses suggested I wasn’t exactly alone in the 2nd Promenade.

  I circled around the house, but there was no back entrance, and all the windows were covered by thick curtains. I couldn’t see a thing. On the second floor, one of the windows even had metallic bars on it for some reason.

  Back at the front, and at a loss, I reluctantly decided to use Afterimage after all, hoping to get an actual clue and not a malfunction that would send my mind spiralling.

  I activated the skill for the first time and watched, stunned, as a ghostly version of me walked up to the door, pulled out a key, reached for the lock, and opened the door.

  What the fuck? Where did I even get the key to his house?!

  Surely that afterimage was as fake as the Déjà vus I kept getting in the Divine.

  Exhausted and mentally drained, I slumped to the ground beside the house, hoping no one would spot me and call Ironwatch to report a bum lurking in their neighborhood. But I had no other choice – I just couldn’t stand up anymore.

  I knew I should’ve worked out with Dad when he invited me. He was an inventor too – that’s how he met my mother – but unlike me, he actually maintained a home gym he built himself. I, on the other hand, spent my time on more “important” pursuits. Like taking petty revenge on my mother.

  I dragged myself up to a seated position and tugged off my boots, letting my feet breathe. A dark red smear on my right sock caught my eye, and I took both socks off as well.

  The calluses. Oh boy, the calluses. They were something otherworldly. Bleeding, raw, glorious.

  I let out bitter laugh, then stretched my legs out, flexing my toes to get some feeling back.

  Then, I noticed my nose was leaking – cold air will do that to you after two hours outside. I sniffed hard and reached into my jacket’s inner pocket, hoping to find the handkerchief Dad gave to me earlier this week, even though I was sure I left it at home.

  As expected, I didn’t find a handkerchief.

  Instead, my fingers brushed against something unexpected. Something that shouldn’t have been there.

  A key.

  I pulled it out and stared. It was bronze. There was a folded slip of paper inside the pocket as well. It read: You’re welcome.

  I stared at both items, bewildered. How did they get there?

  Surely, someone slipped them inside my pocket. But who?

  I tried to focus on what’s in front of me for now.

  Recalling the afterimage I’d seen just minutes ago, I suddenly didn’t feel it was a fake anymore.

  Slowly, still barefoot, clutching my socks and boots under one arm, I walked back to Stanford’s door.

  I slid the key into the lock.

  Turned it.

  It clicked open.

  ***

  I locked the door behind me.

  Retrieved a Cryora from Stanford’s fridge.

  The stench of death greeted me on the second floor. Stronger behind the central door – Thea’s room, according to Memory Fragment #4.

  Found the key in Stanford’s room. Unlocked my sister’s door.

  Found Stanford’s corpse inside, five knives in his chest, and a piece of paper labeling him “Traitor”.

  Looted the body for seven Steamcrowns.

  Headed to the third floor – Stanford’s workshop.

  Found two notes: one from the Primarch, the other from Valdemar.

  Realizing now where I got the rare metals in the Inventory, I stored more.

  Opened Stanford’s safe using three Key-Coins.

  Still shocked that the key to Stanford's house was slipped into my pocket by someone, still bewildered by Stanford’s corpse downstairs, I turned my attention to the contents of the safe.

  I stored a second Armor-Piercer in my Inventory – but not before removing the magazine. I was only ever going to use one at a time – dual-wielding guns sounded both stupid and impractical – so I’d rather have the spare magazines ready in the Inventory.

  I also stored the extra magazine. Meaning, I now had a total of three – six Aetheris bullets.

  Next, I stored the mana crystals, doubling what I already had.

  Slowly, it dawned on me that Stanford likely never gave me any of these in the previous runs. Judging by the state of his corpse – especially how cold it was – he’d been dead for quite some time. And yet, that didn’t add up. He sent me a message. That was a fact.

  His COG was missing when I found him, but no one other than the original user should be able to operate it. That meant it had to be him who sent the message.

  And yet…it couldn’t be. Not with how cold the body was. Not with the way the wounds looked – they weren’t fresh. He’d been dead for more than just a few hours.

  Frustrated and getting nowhere with the contradictions, I finally turned to the last item in the safe: a hardback notebook. A journal.

  I flipped it open and skimmed the first few pages – just scattered notes and ideas. Then a long section of blank pages. But after that…the writing resumed with a new section, titled: Valdemar’s request.

  I sat down on the floor, back against the wall, and began to read:

  This journal used to be one of many I filled as a young inventor scribbling ideas. I had long since stopped being an inventor. After meeting Cecilia, I was reduced to a measly bureaucrat.

  But today, standing at the crossroads of something so big, seeing no other way out of this mess, I shall return to my roots. I shall be an inventor once more.

  These next pages won’t just present my latest creations – built in desperation, using the secret knowledge behind the COG's frequencies – but will also serve to record the last days of my life.

  Yes. The last days of my life. Because if you’re reading this, I’m likely already dead.

  Killed by the terrorist knocking on Skyhaven’s gates…or by our beloved Primarch?

  Even I can’t tell.

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