The chairs were too symmetrical. That was the first thing Elira noticed.
The waiting room wasn't exactly lavish. just stone, cold light, and silence. but everything in it was… perfect. Not the kind of perfection that invites admiration, but the kind that makes you worry about stepping out of line.
She sat with her arms crossed tightly, the revolver's case perched on her knees. It hadn't made a sound all morning. She'd oiled it twice.
A Hexguard liaison passed by and gave her a sympathetic nod.
"Still waiting?"
"Still... Waiting," she muttered.
Then the door let out a slow click.
A woman in black stood there.
"Inquisitor Selene will see you now."
Elira had expected a command chamber. Maybe a war room.
She did not expect a chapel.
Dim. Quiet. Lit by fractured stained glass windows that reflected the sunlight. At the far end stood a sword, embedded in a slab of obsidian, and beside it was.
...
Selene Hart – Inquisitor IX
Ability: EverLock.
Binds, traps, or nullifies supernatural forces within glyph-anchored sigils.
Title: The Binding Oath.
...
"Inquisitor Selene," Elira said, almost in a whisper.
Selene turned slowly.
She looked barely older than Elira. Cloaked in deep indigo, hair purple. Pale eyes blinked once, twice. It seemed as if her mind was always elsewhere.
"You're the detective with the amusing gun right?" Selene murmured.
"…Yes?"
"I read your report. I wasn't so sure if it was joke or not."
Selene approached, footsteps soundless. She moved with the grace of a cat and the calm of someone who had never panicked in her life.
"Let me see it."
Elira opened the case and handed over the revolver to her.
Selene held it in one hand, aimed at the wall, and smiled.
"This is very adorable," she said.
"I... thought it might be cursed."
"It is," Selene replied. "With your gullibility."
Marla blushed. "Do-dorian sold it to me."
"Oh, him." Selene's grin widened. "The Curator huh. God help us all. You know I've never met a man who's more charming then me."
Then, without warning, Selene raised the gun and pointed it at her own head.
"Should I Fire?"
"WHAT!?"
"Should I Fire. At my forehead."
"No! That's... That's dangerous!"
"Oh c'mon have some fun for once."
She pulled the trigger.
Click.
"Hmm?"
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Nothing.
Selene looked disappointed. "Shame. I was curious if it had taste."
She turned and handed it back.
Elira was still blinking when Selene turned her back on her, utterly shocked at what just happened.
"Tell me, Detective," selene said. "Do you believe in illusions?"
"…Yes? ...Pardon?"
The Inquisitor raised her hand. and the runes circling the sword began to shimmer. One by one, afterimages of Selene appeared across the chamber. One lounged in a chair. One inspected the ceiling. One gave Marla a wink.
"What the hell…"
"You're wondering if you've gone mad," Selene said. "You haven't. Yet."
All the Selene-echoes vanished at once, flickering out like candles. The room fell silent again.
"You're playing with me."
"I'm just testing you," Selene replied, now back by the altar. "Same thing, really. You're not the first Hexguard to stumble across something you don't understand. But you're the first to come here with something fake, something very... Intriguing. And That makes you…interesting."
Elira crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her skin prickled. "If the gun is fake, how did it stop a shapeshifter? Why did it pierce the creature when nothing else could hurt it?"
Selene knelt beside the embedded sword, fingers brushing ancient runes. "Magic isn't always in the item. Sometimes it's in the belief. A lie told often enough becomes real in the right hands."
Elira said nothing. Her hand was resting on the revolver again. It still felt warm.
"I... I don't think he's lying," she said quietly.
"I don't think so too," Selene said. "I think he's honest. And that's what makes him dangerous."
A long silence settled between them. For a moment, it was easy to imagine they were friends. Or strangers.
Then Selene stepped down from the altar again. This time, her movements were normal. no floating, no flickering, no illusions.
She walked right up to Elira and stopped.
"I'm going to give you some advice, detective," she said. "Consider it my kindness."
Elira raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Stay away from him."
There was no menace in her voice. Just gravity.
"And Why is that?"
"Because even he doesn't know what he is. And the day he finds out, the rest of us... Will bleed."
Elira looked at her. Really looked at her. Behind the quirks and the riddles, Selene's face held a deep weariness. like someone who had seen gods crawl through the cracks of the world and walk among men.
"I can't do that," Elira said. "He is an entity we must either contain, destroy or befriend. And unless orders from the high chambers says otherwise... I'll continue my investigation."
Selene nodded once, almost approvingly. "I thought you'd say that."
Then, in one final motion, she stepped aside, letting Elira pass toward the exit.
But as Elira moved for the door, she heard a quiet whisper.
"Ask him for another."
Outside, the air was sharp and clean. The Covenant's headquarters sat high above the city, wrapped in silence and cold wind. Marla descended the steps slowly, her mind still spinning.
Back inside, Selene stood alone before the stained glass windows.
Her pale eyes turned. not toward the heavens, not toward the castle, but toward the city below.
Specifically, a crooked little shop that should have existed. She squinted, though there was no need. Her sight extended far beyond the clouds.
"…Curator," she whispered, smiling just slightly.
And then she was gone.
No sound.
No flash.
Just absence.
Back at her flat, Elira stared at the revolver on her desk.
She poured herself a drink. Then another.
The candlelight flickered.
"Fake," she muttered. "Just a fake."
So it's just dumb luck after all....
But it had fired. And it had saved her life.
She picked it up, turned it over. Her reflection looked back at her in the barrel.
What if there was more?
What if she could prove it's all real?
She grabbed her coat, strapped the revolver to her hip, and headed out the door.
One thing was certain.
She needed another audience.
this time with the Curator.