Helvan glanced at the painting in his office, the same one Aiden had so boldly stared at—a depiction of warriors in battle. Runes mingled with imagery in seamless artistry, making it impossible for undiscerning eyes to spot them, but their effects struck nonetheless. The headache and dizziness forced him to look away moments later.
The elderly Sovran had long since come to terms with losing his ability to see the runes, but witnessing someone else flaunt what he had lost brought a sour taste to Helvan’s mouth. The boy might think he hid his talent well, but Helvan had known of his gift the second he inspected that shoddy notebook filled with drawings of runes.
Sighted. The Last Fragment of Eternity. Helvan prayed to the Fallen God, sending his wishes into the unliving void, knowing no one would hear them. Let it be enough.
Implanting the heart of a Hemomorph into a human was thought to be impossible—the documentation of similar experiments supported that claim. After all, no human could win against one of them in a battle of wills. But Aiden was different.
The shackles of fate on the Haven were weakening as the cycle of reincarnation spun once more. It was the last chance, the final stand against a foe who knew no defeat—a chance to lead the Haven onto a better path. Helvan only wished he had the strength to see it through, to guide the young, but he was broken beyond repair.
The Maker had made sure of it. Duty was all that remained in the empty hole inside his spirit.
The door to his office opened, casting away the recurrent doubt haunting his every idle moment, and Myra ushered forward two little men. Miners. The tallest of them, an adult if the wrinkles on his frown were any indication, spoke in a trembling tone that reeked of fear.
“Lord…” he stammered.
Helvan searched his mind for the memory of sympathy, for how to emulate it in his tone before he spoke. “Have a seat.”
The fear in their faces announced his failure. Without wasting time, Helvan called upon his Providence, Timeless Void, and summoned a binding oath out of thin air. The miners gasped, their eyes wide with terror.
Forgive me, but this is for the greater good of… the Haven. Helvan cemented his resolve, casting away the doubt and shadow of reluctance.
“What is it that you wish?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Revenge, lord,” said the youngest of the two. The hesitation on his face vanished. The trembling in his lips steadied as fire filled his eyes.
“A life, then,” Helvan sighed.
The hatred against Sovrans ran deep in the Catalyst Districts, a consequence of their wanton cruelty and the assurance of no repercussions. It always ended this way. This time was bound to be no different. Myra bit down the regret on her face but stood firmly behind them.
“Give me a name,” Helvan’s voice was like the sentence of an executioner. “But know that the price of a Sovran’s life cannot be paid with just one of yours.”
He expected hesitation to strike one of them, but there was only resolve—the kind of which Helvan no longer had the means to understand. They knew nothing of the method that would seal their fates, but they knew their lives had ended the moment they heard the whispers running in the shadows of the Gloom Caves.
A man who killed Sovrans. In some places, it was a woman—it all depended on each district’s circumstances. Yet the fact remained: someone was willing to right the wrongs no one else could, and their payment was blood. Helvan had not started those rumors, but he reaped their rewards with pleasure.
“We are ready, lord. My sister…” The youngest of them spoke, his features growing haunted with each word. “She never done nothing wrong, wouldn’t hurt a fly. But that monster… he don’t care.”
“She was the only thing that made life worth living in that shithole.” The eldest gripped the chair, but the limits of his flesh did not leave a scratch on it. “If we have to die to send that bastard to the abyss, that’s a bargain. Least I get to see my wife and daughter on the other side.”
“Very well.” Helvan let his will inscribe the words on the oath. “The name of the man you want killed?”
“Overseer Alterus,” the miners snarled.
“I, Helvan Karimonder, vow to kill Overseer Alterus. In return…” He raised an eyebrow at them.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“Ed Brightlight and Cain Brightlight, my lord,” the father spoke.
“In return, Ed Brightlight and Cain Brightlight hereby forfeit their lives to the Witnesses of the Beyond, to be used in aiding the greater good of the Haven.” The words solidified on the piece of living leather. “Is that acceptable?”
“Yes.”
“Lord?” The eldest miner met Helvan’s eyes. “Make the bastard suffer.”
They placed their hands on the Oath, removing them with familiar surprise as it burst into flames. The ashes of their vow seeped into their souls, binding their lives to Helvan’s whim. The same energy of karma fell dead within his hollow, soulless husk. There was no compunction to fulfill the oath, for Helvan had long since lost his soul, but they did not need to know that.
A word given is a contract on its own.
Timeless Void whistled to life, and the head of the man who had caused them such pain appeared on the desk. The Sovran’s face was frozen in a rictus of despair, bloodshot eyes wide and mouth opened in a soundless scream. It was as fresh as anything stored in Helvan’s Providence.
The miners stood up from their chairs as if they had produced spikes.
“Lord! Is that—?”
The eldest walked up to the table, raised a fist, and punched the severed head in the nose. It bounced against the ground, fresh blood trailing along Helvan’s floor and desk, but he forgave the insolence.
The man screamed, his previous composure lost as he trampled the carcass until not even Alterus’ mother would recognize him. Energy faded from his body minutes later, leaving him no more than a sobbing mess.
“How?” the youngest asked with undisguised suspicion.
“The Witnesses’ eyes and ears span the entire Haven.” The least Helvan could do was put their hearts at ease. “The moment you contacted our people with the resolve to seek vengeance, to seek us, Alterus’ fate was sealed.”
“Did the bastard suffer?”
“Yes,” Helvan lied.
Time was too precious a commodity to engage in needless torture, but the truth was better kept from the two miners pledged to him. Myra, sympathetic to their plight, had done a great job manipulating the deceased Sovran’s blood to contort his features in a rictus of suffering.
“Hope he freezes in the abyss.” The young man embraced his father. “It’s done, Dad. It’s done.”
***
Helvan walked in silence, alone, taking solace in his thoughts. The darkness in the hallways seeped into the mood of those who had to endure living in hiding, and he was no different. Not much longer now. The missing pieces had just signed their souls to his service. Tomorrow, they would make their way to Elysium, where his two initiates would see the real world for the first time.
The experience was bound to either break them or make them stronger.
The weak presence of an Empyrean drenched the room ahead with the scent of fresh blood. Only one soul sang its song to Helvan’s awareness—not two, just one. Impressive. Finn was a prodigy in every regard, but his visualization was unfettered beyond common sense, molding foreign concepts with the ease a child had when believing a lie.
Unbreakable Veil took years to master, yet the boy had done it in a minute. The only other capable of doing so was the man whose name was not safe to utter, even within the boundaries of the mind. A name Helvan had sealed away under mental locks, so wandering thoughts could roam freely without risking a calamity.
How my brothers would have fared had they known this technique. Would I have been born at all? Helvan scoffed at the thought. Probably. If that alone was enough to stop the Maker, then their battles would not have spanned the centuries.
Helvan opened the door, his insecurities and doubts cast away as Finn’s head snapped toward him with a worried frown.
“Gramps,” Finn said, his usual petulant act nowhere to be seen.
A chill ran down Helvan’s back as he followed Finn’s pointed look. Blood seeped from Aiden’s eyes, nose, and ears. Abyss take me, so much blood. It was as if he had just come back from one of Myra’s trainings. He stood perfectly still, his unveiled soul and even breathing the only proof of life.
Helvan spread his Presence through the hexion in the air, filling the room with a pervasive and unseen touch. The sounds of thunder traveled from Aiden’s soul to every raised hair on Helvan’s body. Once. Twice. It followed a rhythm of creation and destruction, a song of resilience and will.
It was impossible to gaze inside his soul—only an Evoker was capable of such feats—but Helvan knew what the child was doing. He’s punching it. By the Fallen God, the imbecile is punching the very fabric of his soul.
“How long has he been like that, Finn?” Helvan asked.
“Since you left, old man.” He abandoned the book in his study and turned his attention to Aiden. “He won’t answer. He won’t eat. He hasn’t moved an inch from there.”
How is he still alive? One day of pummeling holes in his soul?
Helvan increased the pressure of his Presence like a ferocious ethereal wind, unleashing the entire authority of his astra in the room. Finn took a step back, his face paling, but quickly adjusted his breathing and stood straight—his shield held, unbreakable as it was supposed to be.
Aiden flinched, his shield screeched and cracked under the force of Helvan’s Presence but it held—for a single second. For one instant, Aiden withstood the strength of an Archon, suppressed as Helvan was, but that did not take away from the feat.
When Aiden opened his eyes, Helvan remembered what fear felt like.