Page 1016

It seemed there was no hiding it now. Emiliana just tried to keep herself from sounding as panicked as she felt. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m--I... ah--’ When she looked up from her book, she realized that there was something else wrong.

Spots. Distortions in her vision. It was like the light in the room was bending, somehow; and it made her blink involuntarily, but nothing changed. Those spots weren’t going anywhere. She could feel her breathing becoming even more erratic.

Chergoa’s voice cut through everything. ‘Listen to me,’ the reaper said, more urgently now, yet still carrying that same calmness that she always had. ‘Emiliana, it’s okay. I’m right here. Everything is fine. You’re perfectly safe. Just listen to my voice. Now I want you to try and stand. Slowly. Don’t rush yourself. There’s no hurry.’

Emiliana latched onto those words as if she were lost at sea and they were the only thing that could keep her afloat. She gradually made it onto her feet while a whirlwind of muddled thoughts and twisting light threatened to knock her off balance.

‘We’re going to the bathroom,’ said Chergoa, suddenly much more casual, presumably for the others in the room. ‘Be right back.’

Emiliana saw the door ahead of her. She just had to make it there. To walk straight. If only the floor would stop moving.

‘Good,’ said Chergoa privately. ‘You’re almost there.’

It didn’t look like it, but after a moment, Emiliana realized that the reaper was correct. Her hand was touching the doorknob. She was leaving the room. And it almost felt like she wasn’t the one who’d done it.

All the way to the nearest bathroom, this strange sensation continued.

Then she was in front of a mirror, removing her mask in order to look at her face, at the stubby horns there.

‘Does anything hurt?’ asked Chergoa.

Emiliana had to think about it. ‘No.’

‘Good. That’s good.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘You can’t tell? Em, your power is growing.’

Emiliana’s expression twisted into a scowl. Clearly, Chergoa thought this was a good thing, and perhaps it was, but Emiliana would’ve been quite pleased to never have to deal with this again.

Chergoa had told her about this, though. One of the things that made the mutation type so volatile was that, eventually, it had to be used, whether the user wished it or not.

Page 1015 -- CXVI.

Chapter One Hundred Sixteen: ‘Vision in the dark...’
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The Elroys’ shared room was quiet. The three children hung around their father’s bed. Ramira was sleeping; Marcos looked like he was having a silent conversation with Shenado; and Emiliana--she was trying to read a book she’d grabbed off the shelf.

Trying and failing, unfortunately. She just couldn’t seem to focus on the words anymore. Things kept distracting her, things she couldn’t quite grasp. Fleeting sensations. A flicker in her eye. A twitch in one of her horns. And sweat--warm and then cold and then warm again. Even her own breathing was starting to play tricks on her. Easy and then erratic and then easy again. Over and over.

She didn’t know what was happening. Some kind of panic attack? She’d never had one before. Was this what they were like?

But for some reason, she wasn’t even concerned. Not about herself, at least. The only thing on her mind was to bottle it up. To not let anyone else find out. They’d just worry about her. Become scared for her. It made no sense, but right here and now, in the middle of whatever madness this was, not inconveniencing anyone seemed like the most important thing in the world.

At this point, the book in her hands was just a tool to help conceal herself. As long as she could look like she was reading it, everything could still be okay. The problem, whatever it was, could still pass. It could just go away. It could. It had to.

Then came Chergoa’s echoing voice, ruining everything. ‘Hey. Is that interesting?’

Interesting? What was she talking about? Oh, the book. Of course. Emiliana had to answer, though. What was this damn thing even about? She’d picked it off the shelf for a reason. She just had to remember.

Birds? No. Eyes. The book was about eyes. Bird vision was just one of the earlier parts. She’d picked it in hopes of learning more about ocular anatomy, but it wasn’t particularly helpful, as she already knew everything that she’d managed to read.

‘...Em? You awake?’

Emiliana’s hands twitched as she realized she’d taken too long to respond. ‘Y-yeah.’ Oh no, that was stupid. She could have just pretended to be asleep.

‘You okay?’ Chergoa asked, hovering in front of her. ‘Hey. You’re shaking. What’s the matter?’

Page 1014

He supposed Garovel had a point, but Hector really didn’t want to believe that could be true. The idea that some of the Rainlords might sabotage their own peace did not sit well with him. In the brief time he’d spent with these people, he’d seen nothing but reasons to respect them. Even their aberration--somehow, they’d made a monster seem honorable. The kind of people who could pull off a feat like that deserved the benefit of the doubt, didn’t they?

Maybe they didn’t. That was the question at hand, after all. When it came down to it, maybe Ibai really was nothing more than a monster.

Hector touched his forehead as he realized that he was just going around in circles and confusing himself.

‘There’s another option we haven’t thought of,’ said Garovel, still privately. ‘Perhaps this whole thing is a fake out.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The victim’s wounds are obviously excessive. Unless, that is, they are meant to prevent us from identifying the body. In which case, this “victim” could actually be a servant, and the reason their soul isn’t here is because their reaper took it and regenerated them somewhere else.’

‘Oh... you mean like we had Colt do.’

‘Basically, yeah.’

Asad and Qorvass seemed to have finished their conversation with Carlos and ventured over to inspect the corpse.

Garovel posed the most pressing question. ‘Can either of you tell us who this is?’

The Lord Najir merely frowned, but Qorvass hovered closer to the victim’s feet.

The old skeletal Sandlord let out a heavy sigh. ‘This is Fuad,’ he said.

Hector saw Asad stiffen.

“How do you know?” Asad asked.

‘The shoes,’ said Qorvass. ‘They’re a little torn up, but you recognize them, don’t you?’

Asad just shrugged.

‘No one else around here wears that brand or color. It’s Fuad. I’m sure a DNA test will confirm it.’

‘Does Fuad have a reaper?’ asked Garovel.

‘No. He was just a normal kid. He was living here as part of an apprenticeship.’

Garovel spared one last word in private. ‘Shit.’

‘It was a good theory,’ said Hector. And then he saw something on Asad’s face that bothered him. Not sadness or anger, but worry. And a sudden question occurred to Hector. “What was Fuad’s last name?”

Asad returned a hard stare. “Saqqaf.”