The confrontation with the aristocrat had left something sour in Lucid's mouth. Not fear. Not quite. Just the particular taste of understanding how fragile everything was. How one wrong word could mean freezing. How the Domain judged with absolute precision and no mercy.
Fenwick walked behind him. Close. Too close. Like a child afraid of losing sight of their parent. Every few steps he would make a small sound. Nervous. Uncertain. The confident fraud expert was completely gone. What remained was someone barely holding together.
'He is just baggage now. Dead weight. I should have left him frozen with the aristocrat's pets.'
But Lucid had not. Could not. Some part of him that refused to abandon people even when abandoning them made strategic sense.
The landscape around them was yellow. Golden. Everything bathed in that impossible light that came from nowhere and everywhere. Buildings rose and fell. Streets appeared and vanished. The Domain rearranged itself constantly. Following rules Lucid could not see but felt in his bones.
The auction had to be somewhere. But where? He had no leads. No direction. Just the certainty that it existed and he needed to find it.
'Think. What else is here? What other places matter?'
His mind drifted back. To something he had seen. Not recently. Before. When he had first started noticing things about Port Vexis. About the cultists. About the Congregation.
A room. An interior. He had glimpsed it once. Through a window maybe. Or in a vision. Hard to remember the exact circumstances. But the image remained clear.
A portrait of a woman. Purple hair. Eyes that followed movement. A book on a table. His name written inside. Over and over. Desperate handwriting. Like someone trying to remember. Or forget. Or both.
Candles. Burning with purple flame. A skull. Human probably. Pictures scattered. Handwriting covering walls. Everything bathed in dimly purple light. Pulsing. Alive.
'That place. That has to be them. The cultists. Ember Ascendant. The Congregation. Why do they have so many names? Fear creates different illusions.'
He had not come to Port Vexis for the princess. Had not risked everything for six diamond coins or the Transcendence. Had not followed orders because Queen Elara commanded it.
He had come because during his time with Ayame they had passed through a village.
The villagers had abducted travelers. Offered them as sacrifices. To the purple flame. To something they called the Ember. To entities that demanded blood and faith in equal measure.
Lucid and Ayame had stopped it. Had freed the survivors. Had burned the altar and the priests who tended it.
But the memory stayed. The purple flame. The way it consumed without heat. The way it turned flesh to ash that glowed faintly before dispersing.
Purple.
Everything kept coming back to purple.
He stopped walking. Looked up at the sky. It was yellow here. Golden. But when he had woken in this world the sky had been purple. Void purple. The color of nothing trying to be something.
The forest where he had first opened his eyes. Purple grass. Purple leaves. Purple flowers that grew without sun and thrived in shadow.
Corrosive fate essence. The energy that could hurt him. That bypassed his healing. That ate through his chains. Purple. Always purple.
'What does it mean? Is purple just the color of corruption? Or is there a connection? Something linking all these pieces together?'
He shook his head. Philosophy could wait. Survival came first.
Just ahead there was a building in the Domain's fluid architecture.
Lucid approached. His instincts screamed recognition even as his mind struggled to place why.
This was the place. The interior he had seen.
He stood in front of the door. Hesitated. Every sense warned danger. Every instinct said turn back. Find another way.
He went in anyway.
The door creaked open. Agonizing. Slow. Like rusty hinges that had not moved in years suddenly forced to function.
Fenwick stayed outside. "This place is haunted. I am not going in there."
Lucid wanted to scoff. Wanted to tell him haunted houses were the least of their problems. But nothing felt funny anymore. Not after the aristocrat. Not after learning the Domain's rules through watching people freeze.
"Stay here then. Watch the door."
Fenwick nodded. Grateful.
Lucid stepped inside.
Blank.
The room was empty. No portrait. No book. No writing covering walls. No purple vibrance. No candles. No skull. No pictures. Nothing.
Just bare walls. Bare floor. Bare ceiling. Like someone had scrubbed it clean. Removed every trace. Erased every evidence.
'They knew. Whoever was here knew I was coming. Cleared out in a hurry. Left nothing behind.'
His heart sank. Not from fear. From frustration. He had been so certain this would provide answers. Would give direction. Would confirm his suspicions about the cultists.
Instead there was just emptiness.
He moved through the room anyway. Checking corners. Looking for anything they might have missed. Any scrap of evidence. Any forgotten detail.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Then. At the edge. Where floor met wall. Tucked behind. Wedged between two crates that had been shoved aside in panic.
A glint. Small. Easy to miss. Purple catching what little light existed.
Lucid knelt.
A pendant. Violet gemstone. Set in silver. Chain broken. Like it had been ripped off in haste. Dropped. Kicked aside. Forgotten in the rush to evacuate.
He held it up. Let light pass through the stone. Watched purple deepen and shift. Beautiful in the way dangerous things often were.
'Not for leads. For value. Something this shiny probably has worth in the Domain. Can be used. Traded. Bet against something else.'
He pocketed it. Casual. Like finding loose change. Did not want to examine too closely why his hand shook slightly. Why touching purple stone made his chest ache in familiar ways.
He emerged from the building. Stopped.
Fenwick stood too still. Not frozen. Not quite. But motionless in ways that suggested external force rather than internal choice.
Lucid approached slow and steady.
A shadow moved behind Fenwick. Resolved into shape. Purple robes. Hood drawn. Face hidden. The particular silhouette of Congregation members. Of cultists who thought darkness made them invisible.
A hand rested on Fenwick's shoulder. Gentle and also threatening.
"Do not move or I will kill this individual."
The voice was female. Young and calm.
Lucid stopped. Five feet away. Close enough to act. Far enough to assess.
"How do you know my name?"
"How could one not?" The figure tilted her head. "You are quite famous believe it or not, you are the one that jumped into the purple flame to save a boy, you are the one that mended the celestial tracks. You are the one who came across multiple of us and came back alive."
"You are our saviour, you are her vessel!" Her tone grew more erratic.
"You are the one who sealed that Phi Rift"
'No way she followed me ever since there...'
She extended her free hand toward him. Palm up. Inviting.
"Come with me, Lucid. And I will let this innocent lamb go. Simple exchange. You for him. Fair trade."
Lucid looked at Fenwick. At the fear written across his face. At the way he trembled under the cultist's grip.
'He is not worth dying for. Not worth surrendering for he is just a tool I used to enter the Domain.'
But saying that and believing it were different things.
He stepped back. Muscles coiled. Ready stance. The chains wanted to manifest. He held them dormant. Waiting.
"Or what? You will kill him? I doubt you have the strength."
"Are you sure about that my prophet." The hand tightened on Fenwick's shoulder. He whimpered. "One squeeze. That is all it takes. His neck breaks. He freezes. Becomes another statue."
Lucid recalled what he knew. No Illuminated could not harm him easily.
"I doubt that. You are weak."
The cultist laughed.
"How do you know? Have we fought? Have you tested me? Or are you making assumptions based on incomplete information?"
'She has a point. I know nothing about her. Could be weak. Could be strong. Could be bluffing. Could be serious.'
"I am not sure," Lucid admitted. "But I know I heal faster than you can damage. Know I have reserves you cannot match. Know that threatening me with hostages only works if I value the hostage."
Silence.
Then. "You value him enough to bring him this far. Enough to not abandon him when he lost assets. Enough to stand here negotiating instead of attacking."
"Well... that is strategic thinking. Not emotional attachment."
"Is it? Or are you lying to yourself?" The cultist's voice dropped. Became intimate. "I know what you are, Lucid. Know what hides beneath that mist. Know the deity that lives inside you. Know the chains that make you strong and the illness that makes you weak."
Lucid's blood went cold.
'How? How does she know? Only Jing Xiu knows. Only people I have told directly. How does a cultist know?'
"Surprised?" She sounded pleased. "We have been watching. Learning. Preparing. You are not as invisible as you think. Not as protected. Not as safe."
"Then why negotiate? Why not just attack? If you know so much. If you are so prepared."
"Because I am not stupid. You are dangerous and unpredictable. Attacking you directly means risk I do not need to take. But if you come willingly? If you surrender peacefully? Then everyone wins. Well. Everyone except you."
Fenwick made a sound. Small pained sound. The cultist's grip had tightened again. Warning. Demonstration.
"Let him go," Lucid said. Kept his voice level. Showed nothing. "Let him go and we can talk. Negotiate properly. Without threats."
"Why would I do that? The threat is my leverage. My advantage. Remove it and you have no reason to cooperate."
"Remove it and you have no reason to die."
The chains manifested. Partial. Just tips. Golden white light erupting from Lucid's finger tips.
The cultist tensed. Her hand moved from Fenwick's shoulder to his throat. Ready to squeeze. Ready to kill.
"Careful, boy. One wrong move and he dies. Then you attack. Then I defend. Then we both lose something. Is that what you want?"