The mountain inn creaked beneath the weight of the snow storm. Snow fell in thick, unbroken veils outside, curling into the room through the open double doors. The hearth sputtered faintly in protest, flames fighting the cold wind that swept across the tatami mats.
Kael Arden crouched low at the lacquered table, his crimson trimmed coat folded neatly beside him. His sword rested within arms reach, leaned against the table's edge, its steel humming faintly as though alive to the air's tension.
He cupped green tea between his hands, steam coiling upwards in fragile ribbons, though it did little to warm him. His reddish-brown eyes were sharp and restless and they flickered toward the door.
"You're going to freeze us both out," he muttered.
Remo Calvane sat closer to the threshold, legs folded beneath his long ceremonial coat. The absurdly wide brim of his black hat was off now and thrown on his bed frame, showing his neck long black silky hair.
A smirk danced on his face, like it was the only expression he ever had on his face. His hand was raised, palm crooked sideways in a mimicry of some handheld device, though nothing rested there, at least nothing Kael could see. In Remo's vision a battle replayed over and over again in clean and clear detail.
The clash of Dario Kosta against the Reaper's Cart. The impossible strength. And then… his sealing.
"Close the damn door already," Kael pressed, irritation bleeding into his tone.
Remo only hummed. His smirk twitched sharper, as though Kael's protest had been little more than an amusing retort from a child.
Kael set his tea down with a thud. "Still watching that fight?"
Remo's voice carried a low, velvet stretched over iron. "No one else has this. Because no one else can get it the same way I do."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "That Dario Kosta's dead."
Remo finally lowered his hand, letting the phantom screen dissolve into air. His eyes slid shut. "No. That he isn't. He was sealed. The world sings hymns of his death, but the truth does not need a choir. It only needs the right eyes."
Kael leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. "Then what kind of seal could cage someone like him?"
Remo tilted his head slightly, as if considering whether Kael even deserved the answer. "One forged in the right conditions. That's it. Seals, like runes, are strong when every piece falls precisely where it must."
The silence after stretched thin, drawn taut by the howl of the wind.
"So…" Kael exhaled slowly. "Does this mean we're moving openly now? Without the threat of a star hanging over us?"
Remo's smirk faltered. He pressed a hand lightly against his chest, fingers brushing over his heart. His voice softened, threading with something dangerously close to nostalgia.
"Do you know, Kael… There was a time when I worked so closely with the Bureau in Ostara. I was a head scientist. A researcher of great standing and respect. Now I have a whole new identity, my original identity."
"What did you research?"
"Egos," Remo breathed, "Their birth, their shape, the way they grew. I wanted to watch them awaken, to see them flourish." His smirk sharpened, curling into something darker. "But truth be told, it wasn't enough. I wanted to recreate one."
Kael sat back, unease ghosting over his features. "But Egos are unique to every person who gets one."
Remo nodded slowly. "I know. But there was an Ego I once witnessed, but I couldn't get my hands on it. It was beautiful. Terrifying. Alive in a way no other I've seen has ever matched. Well, I'd say I came close." He giggled. "It belonged to a young girl. Who was owned by a fool. Almost two centuries ago now."
Kael blinked, his brows knitting together. "Two centuries…? You realize you just blurted that out right?"
Remo chuckled low, the sound sliding across the boards like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.
Kael studied him for a moment longer, then asked, "How old are you, Remo?"
The smirk widened, but his eyes stayed closed. "That, Kael, is a rude question."
Kael clicked his tongue and looked away, snatching up his tea again as though the warmth could guard him from the words.
Remo let the silence thrum, savouring it. Then he spoke again, smoother. "And I've decided. We won't be leaving Ostara yet. There is business I must attend to. By the end of November."
Kael turned his head back, brow furrowed. "Where?"
"Porta Mari."
Kael tilted his head, suspicion heavy in his stare. "What could you possibly need there?"
Remo ignored the question entirely, continuing as though Kael had not spoken. "After that, we move. Albion, perhaps. Or elsewhere, depending on what we discover."
Kael exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the wall, tea forgotten again. "Albion's fine. But I've always wanted to see the sky nation of Zuberia."
***
The streets spilled them into light.
Ruben and Corbin slipped into the wide artery of Brumália's commerce, the great shopping center that towered like a monument to appetite and distraction. Its glass facade stretched high into the rain-grey skyline, so polished that the clouds looked warped in its reflection.
A river of people flowed in and out of its doors, umbrellas dripping, coats snapping in the light breeze.
Inside, warmth replaced drizzle. The ceiling arched far overhead in a dome of glass and steel, latticed beams catching the glow of suspended lanterns that swayed faintly. Rows of banners hung down like ribbons, coloured in winter tones of blue and ivory, each one patterned with geometric snowflakes and sharp lettering advertising sales.
The first floor stretched out in a sprawl of polished stone, so clean. Water trickled gently down the face of a fountain in the center, its basin crowded with coins that flashed in the light.
Laughter and chatter filled the space, undercut by the rhythmic murmur of escalators ferrying people upward to the floors above. The air smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts, fried dough, and perfume wafting from the cosmetic counters along the edges.
Ruben lifted his head, taking it in. "They wouldn't find us here."
Corbin's eyes tracked the crowds, his shoulders stiff despite the warmth. "They still could. Think about it…" his hand gestured vaguely to the hundreds of moving faces, "... we wouldn't even know who's looking for us. Could be anyone in here."
The reminder made Ruben exhale through his nose. He rubbed his palms against the sides of his trousers. "Well, I'm glad we're finally on our own again. I didn't really want Lea and Kade dragged into this."
Corbin gave a short nod. His eyes softened for half a second before hardening again. "Alright. Now it's just us. But I don't even know the first step in figuring out how these attacks started."
Ruben looked to Corbin in some thought and then he asked the question. "What do you think Sera Weber would do?"
The question came as a half joke and half serious. Corbin's face lit with realization and he snapped his fingers, "Yes. What would she do? Like she just rounded us all up. We should go to where some of the more recent attacks were and ask a bunch of questions."
Ruben's grin widened. "Alright, but we probably shouldn't go to the last two places." He started. "There's supposedly been four attacks now, so we should start with the second one that took place. Police and Paladin have most likely been all over the last two."
As they walked and weaved through the knots of shoppers, voices behind drifted to their ears. A couple was speaking loud enough to catch fragments, and Ruben was interested enough to listen.
"... the Pillar of Arms… new laws… working with the Pillar of Law…"
The boys both slowed down as they perked their ears at the conversation.
"He says it'll make the country safer for people like us when it comes to those powered people," the young man was saying. His tone carried both skepticism but he also sounded hopeful.
His partner scoffed, her voice carried a false resignation. "I remember a time where anytime he showed up on TV it was always to throw shade at people with Egos. He never liked how they were in the military. If he had his way he would throw them all in a small city in the corner of this country so that they live away from the rest of us."
"Well if Phantasm weren't a problem, would that even be so bad?" the young man offered.
"No. You can't segregate a group of people like that. People awaken Egos through death, none of them asked to come back after they died the first time." Her voice went quiet after the little outburst.
"But think of what's going on in the city right now. It's obviously going to come out that it was one of those freaks that is the cause of the attacks on the people. On people like your Grandma."
Ruben and Corbin exchanged a glance. Without hesitation, they turned and stepped toward the pair. Ruben spoke first, he tried sounding urgent. "What you just said, about your grandmother-"
The couple stiffened instantly. The boy's arm curved subtly in front of his partner. "Who are you?"
Corbin's response came calm, without a flicker of hesitation. "We're junior Paladin. We've been assigned to gather information on the attacks."
The words changed everything.
The boy's arm dropped. His suspicion eased into something closer to relief, as if the mere presence of Paladin, even self-proclaimed junior ones, was a thread of order in the chaos of the city.
Ruben noticed it instantly. The faith people had in the institution was palpable.
The girl spoke again. We're on our way to my home. If you want to know more… you can follow along and ask my grandmother herself."
Ruben's hand pressed briefly to his chest, a gesture of thanks. "We'd appreciate that."
***
The district was quiet.
Rows of homes lined the narrow lane, brick walls dulled by years of rain, their roofs sagging slightly under the weight of moss. Most windows glowed faintly with lamplight against the dimming sky, but shutters were drawn tight, as though the houses themselves were wary of the dusk,
The drizzle hadn't stopped, but here, under the closeness of the eaves, the sound softened into a muted patter.
Shirley was the name of the girl they had met at the shopping center and her boyfriend's name was Hank.
Shirley led them up the cracked steps of a modest terraced house. Hank hovered just behind her, his posture guarded though his expression tried to be hospitable. The door opened with a creak that had lived in its hinges for decades, releasing the faint smell of old wood and broth.
Inside, the air was warm but thick, filled with an undertone of medicine and Ruben could also smell some vegetables boiling.
Walls were cluttered with family portraits that looked to span three generations. The furniture was orderly. A sofa with a hand knitted blanket, a television buzzing faintly in the corner.
The old woman sat in a high-backed chair near the hearth. Her eyes were closed behind the small square spectacles perched low on her nose. Wrinkles folded deep across her face like maps of time, her thin lips pressed in a line of disapproval before anyone had spoken a word. Her hair was a wiry mass of grey, tied back but still frayed around her temples.
She didn't stir when they entered, but her voice rasped out before Shirley could speak.
"Another interview? How many times do they want the same story? I've told it to the Paldin. I've told it to the council. I've told it to the police. And I've told it to those nosy neighbours."
Corbin stepped forward, keeping his tone even. "We won't take long. Just a few questions. How many people did it happen to?"
He didn't even wait for her response.
Her eyes opened, sharp enough to glare. "It happened to half the estate." She said, "That afternoon, two weeks ago now. Sun hadn't gone down yet. I was cooking. Pot was steaming up the place. And then it came."
Ruben leaned forward slightly, careful not to crowd her. "What came?"
Her mouth trembled, "A white flash in my vision. Not light or sound it was just like my vision blanked for an instant. Then my head was empty. And then I wasn't myself. My body moved with urges that weren't mine. I smashed plates. I stabbed walls. The knife chipped on the brick." Her jaw tightened, false teeth clicking faintly as she swallowed.
"And when I stumbled outside, people were already clawing at each other. One neighbour strangled his own brother on the porch steps. And me…" she lifted her jaw stubbornly, "... I ground my teeth so hard the few I had left would have filed to stubs if I went on any longer."
Ruben's brow furrowed. His stomach tightened at the image, at the sheer force that would take. To grind past the pain until the bone itself gave way. "You must have pushed through the pain."
The old woman only shrugged. "Didn't feel a thing at the time."
Corbin crossed his arms. "How long did it last?"
She closed her eyes again, voice as firm as her spine was bent. "Three minutes and twenty four seconds. That's what the officers concluded after gathering all our statements."
Ruben nodded carefully. "Before it started… Did you smell anything? Hear anything unusual? Or even feel anything different?"
"No." Her voice was iron. "I was at the stove. Steam clouded my sight, but no scent, no sound. My neighbours said the same. Nothing in the air. And when it ended, it just stopped, like someone had just snapped their fingers."
She exhaled harshly, the weight of retelling pressing her chest. "And then the news floated that more and more of those attacks have happened now. Totalling four."
Ruben inclined his head as the silence went on. "Thank you. That helps us a lot."
Her lips twisted. "I doubt it."
The boys excused themselves with polite bows. Shirley hovered near the door, her eyes apologetic, while Hank only gave them a curt nod as they slipped out into the damp street.
The sky above had bruised into a deep violet, clouds pressing low. Lamps flickered on one by one along the row, casting the cobbles in uneven circles of gold.
Corbin broke the silence first, his voice blunt. "That was useless. She gave us nothing we didn't already know."
Ruben stuffed his hands in his pockets, gaze still on the ground. "Maybe. But she didn't have to talk at all. Still counts for something."
He stopped walking, lifting his head, eyes narrowing as he scanned the clustered homes of the estate. The rows stretched, maybe fifty meters each way before turning to another narrow street. The entire estate couldn't be larger than three hundred meters across.
"She said half the houses," Ruben murmured, thinking aloud. "If half the estate fell at the same time, then whatever hit them had a radius." He gestured slowly, tracing the distance with his hands. "Maybe a hundred and fifty meters. Maybe more or a little less. If it happens again and we're near that's the radius we need to escape."
Corbin tilted his head, then gave a short nod of approval. "Fair. At least that's something."
They walked on, the damp cobbles dark beneath their boots. The night thickened, shadows lengthening across the narrow street. Corbin spoke again. "The more I hear, the more I think this is an Ego. Has to be."
"Yeah," Ruben agreed. "If it were chemical, gas, something engineered, someone would've noticed by now. Four attacks, and not a single person saw haze in the air? No strange smell? Even if it was hard to see, you'd think at least one person would catch it."
Corbin's lips pressed tight. "We need to work fast. I saw on the news, people are already calling for outside support. Not just Paladin. Scientists. Researchers. Anyone that can explain it to them."
Ruben's hands clenched. "I still haven't seen Willow."
Corbin glanced at him, brow furrowed. "She didn't seem like she was from Brumália. Probably left already."
"Maybe." Ruben's jaw tightened.
Corbin exhaled through his nose. "So what then? Do we even stick around?"
Ruben stopped at the corner, gazing down another empty lane. His voice was firm, the uncertainty stripped away. "I'm saying. I want to help Lea and Kade with this. I don't want to spend my life running, ducking every time someone might be watching. I want to see this through."
Corbin studied him for a long beat, then nodded. "Alright. But first, we need a place for the night."
***
The sewers of Brumália weren't built for comfort.
The boys dropped down through an iron gate, the clang echoing into the tunnels below. The air hit them like a wall, damp, rank, layered with the sourness of rot and stagnant water. The narrow tunnel curved away in both directions, its brick walls sweating moisture that dripped steadily into the shallow stream running along the center.
Ruben gagged lightly, dragging his sleeve across his face. "Did we really have to come all the way down here?"
Corbin dropped into a crouch, setting down his pack. "Yes. The only money we have is traceable. And whose fault is that? Yours. You didn't want to wait for Lea to hit a bank."
Ruben shot him a glare. "Because that would've looked suspicious as hell. And I hate waiting around." He shifted his weight uncomfortably. The stink clung to his throat, impossible to shake. "Still doesn't make this any less nasty."
Corbin sat with his back to the wall, unbothered by the dripping pipes overhead. "Get used to it. We're ghosts now. Ghosts don't get nice beds."