Lucid's eyes drifted to the pedestal at the center of the platforms. The relic waited there beneath its cloth of impossible colors. The Heart of the Forgotten Covenant. The thing everyone wanted. The thing that would destroy them all if they reached for it wrong.
'We have nothing left. The fraudulent deed is gone. The Domain saw through it. Took it like taking candy from a child. My service is gone. My connections. My reputation. All of it transferred to the Congregation in a single transaction.'
He had one thing left. The one thing he had been hiding since he entered this golden hell. His fate essence. His Illuminated status. The power that lived in his chest like a second heart, beating in rhythms that did not match his own.
'If I use it, they will see. The Congregation already know... they referred to me as a vessel, Their leader looked at me when I held up the purple pendant. Recognized it. Recognized me. But Celeste does not know. After our encounter where I had managed to hurt her, in the alley, she thought it was blind luck. A dying man's desperate flailing. She does not know what I am.'
But using his power here, in the Domain of Mercyros, where the Monolith dreamed and judged and measured all things, carried risks beyond exposure. The last thing he wanted was to confront a deity. Mercyros was not Neptune or Alice. Mercyros would not pull him back from death. Mercyros would weigh him on golden scales and find him wanting and turn him to stone without a second thought.
'That and he didn't want to throw up more blood.'
'So I play by the rules. For now. I watch. I wait. I find another angle.'
But there were no other angles. His platform was cracked. His assets were gone. His companion was a hollow shell of terror and regret. The other parties circled each other like sharks, and he was not a shark. He was chum drifting in golden water, waiting for teeth.
The voice announced the next lot. Something about a compass. Something about weeping stones. The bids climbed past two hundred gold, past three hundred, past five hundred. The numbers blurred together, losing meaning, becoming abstract symbols of wealth he would never touch.
Celeste won that lot. Her platform glowed brighter. Her guards moved in their terrible unison. She smiled, and the smile was not aimed at anyone in particular, just the general direction of everyone who had ever doubted her.
'She is enjoying this. Not the acquisition, not even the competition. The feeling of winning while others lose. She feeds on their failure.'
The Congregation won the next lot. A small victory. A minor artifact. Their pillar healed slightly, the cracks, the stone growing warm with new value. But their leader did not smile. Their leader watched Celeste with an expression Lucid could not read.
Valen Thorne still did not bid.
'Why? Why is he here if he will not compete? Unless he is waiting for the relic. The final lot. The only thing that matters.'
Lucid understood that. He was waiting too. But waiting required surviving until the final lot appeared. And surviving required wealth he did not have.
'Plan C.'
The thought surfaced like something rising from deep water. Like a dark, desperate thought. The kind of plan you made when all other plans had failed and all that remained was the choice between dying slow or dying fast.
'Power through everything. Use the fate essence. Reveal what I am. Challenge the entire Domain if I have to. Let Mercyros descend. Let the Monolith judge. I have survived death once. I can survive it again.'
But that was the illness talking. The desperation. The part of him that had been dying slowly since the academy, since the rift, since whatever Alice had done to him when she pulled him back from the golden light. But Lucid did his research after the guillotine that brought him back to the real world.
'If I use the fate essence here, Mercyros will notice. The Monolith will wake from its dreaming and turn its attention to the creature that dares to wield power in its domain. And when it looks at me, it will see Alice's mark. Will see the thread that connects us. Will see something it does not understand and cannot control.'
And Mercyros hated what it could not control.
The voice announced another transaction. Celeste versus the Congregation. Direct confrontation. Both parties raised their stakes, higher and higher, until the golden threads between them glowed with the weight of what they had bet.
Celeste won. Of course she won. Her argument was flawless, her documentation perfect, her conviction absolute. The Congregation's platform dropped. Cracks spread. One of their members stumbled, caught themselves, but the damage was done.
[ Party Three pillar integrity at forty-two percent. ]
The voice announced it like weather. Like the time of day. Indifferent to what it meant.
Lucid looked at Valen Thorne. The yellow-haired boy had finally moved. His hands were no longer clasped behind his back. They hung at his sides, loose and ready. His golden eyes were fixed on the Congregation's platform. On the purple-robed figures who had taken something from him.
'He knows them. Has history with them. They did something to him. Burned something he built. Took something he loved.'
The rage was there, beneath the calm. Lucid could see it now. The way Valen's jaw tightened. The way his breathing changed, becoming shallower, more controlled. He was not peaceful. He was containment. A vessel holding something that wanted to break free.
'He is waiting. Same as me. But he knows something I do not. Has a plan I cannot see.'
The magistrate turned her attention to Valen. Her white hair caught the golden light as she stepped forward, her guards moving with her, their faces blank, their eyes empty.
"I challenge Party Four," she said. Her voice was honey over steel. "I offer the deed to the eastern spire. Registered value one thousand gold marks. Against equivalent."
The crowd went silent. One thousand gold. More than any previous bid. More than most parties possessed in total assets. Lucid felt relieved she didn't bid giant him.
Valen Thorne did not flinch. Did not step back. Did not show any reaction at all except for a small tilt of his head, as if he had been expecting this.
"I accept," he said. His voice was calm. Quiet. The voice of someone who had stopped being afraid a long time ago.
[ Challenge accepted. Party Four must present equivalent value or forfeit. ]
Valen reached into his coat. Pulled out something small. Something that caught the golden light and held it, refusing to let it go.
"A key," he said. "To a vault in the Twilight Markets. The contents of that vault are valued at five thousand gold marks. Registered and verified by the Domain's own assessment."
The voice processed. Weighed.
[ Value confirmed. Five thousand gold marks. Party Four's stake exceeds Party Two's offer. ]
Celeste's smile faltered. Just for a moment. Her guards shifted, their synchronization breaking, their heads turning to look at each other as if seeking confirmation of what they had heard.
'Five thousand gold. Where did a street vendor get five thousand gold? Unless he is not a street vendor. Unless everything about him is a mask, hiding something much larger, much older, much more dangerous.'
The magistrate recovered quickly. Her smile returned, sharper now, edged with something that might have been respect or might have been hunger.
"I raise my stake," she said. "The eastern spire plus the western docks. Registered value two thousand gold marks."
Valen nodded. "I raise mine. The vault key plus the deed to a property in the Celestial District. Registered value seven thousand gold marks."
The bids climbed. Three thousand. Eight thousand. Four thousand. Nine thousand. Each number larger than the last, larger than Lucid could comprehend, larger than anything he had ever seen or imagined.
'They are not bidding for the lot. They are bidding against each other. Testing. Probing. The lot is just an excuse.'
The Domain's golden light pulsed with each new bid, each new challenge, each new escalation. The threads between Party Two and Party Four grew thicker, brighter, heavy with the weight of what was being wagered.
Celeste hesitated. Her guards hesitated with her, their movements no longer synchronized, each one reacting at a different speed, a different intensity.
'She is reaching her limit. Not her wealth limit. Her nerve limit. She did not expect him to match her. Did not expect him to exceed her. She is calculating whether to continue or fold.'
Valen waited. His golden eyes never left her face. His expression did not change. He was calm in a way that was not natural, not human, not quite right.
The voice spoke once more, its voice indifferent.
[ Next round shall commence.]
[The Heart of the Forgotten Covenant.]