The rain had stopped by the time Duke Karmis reached the grand boulevard.
The street was still damaged from the bombing—cracked cobblestones, scorched walls, boards covering broken windows. The vendors who used to line the street were gone, replaced by Royal Guards standing at attention every few yards. The few pedestrians who passed kept their heads down, their shoulders hunched, their eyes fixed on the ground.
This is what fear looks like, the Duke thought. This is what the King has done.
He had come here looking for a man named Corvin.
The name had come from an anonymous letter, it had been slid under Sheila's room earlier this morning and the staff had refused to tell him who brought it. "Corvin was there. He saw everything. He's been sweeping the boulevard for twenty years. If anyone knows what happened, it's him."
It didn't have his address only where one can find him. "He doesn't have an address. He sleeps in the doorways. You'll find him near the fountain."
The fountain was at the center of the boulevard, a marble structure depicting the Four Sources—Ignis, Thalassa, Tellus, Aetherius—their stone faces turned toward the sky. The water had been shut off after the bombing, and the basin was empty, filled with leaves and trash.
A man sat on the edge of the basin, his head bowed, his hands clasped between his knees.
He was thin, his clothes ragged, his face hidden beneath the brim of a battered cap. A broom leaned against the basin beside him, its bristles worn down to nubs.
"Corvin?" the Duke said.
The man looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks hollow, his skin the color of old parchment. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Who's asking?"
"Duke Charles Karmis."
Corvin's eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over his broom. "Your Grace—I didn't—I wasn't expecting—"
"Please. Sit." The Duke gestured to the basin. "I just want to talk."
Corvin sat back down, his hands trembling.
The Duke sat beside him, ignoring the cold stone beneath him.
"I was told you were here on the day of the bombing," the Duke said. "That you saw what happened."
Corvin nodded slowly. "I saw... things. Things I can't explain."
"Try."
The street sweeper was silent for a long moment. His eyes darted from side to side, checking for listeners, for guards, for anyone who might be watching.
"The procession was passing through," he said finally. "The nobles in their carriages, the crowds cheering. I was sweeping near the fountain, keeping my head down, staying out of the way."
"And then?"
"And then I felt it. A pressure. Like the air was being squeezed."
"Where did it come from?"
Corvin pointed toward the eastern end of the boulevard. "From over there. Near the entrance to the merchant district. I saw them."
"Saw who?"
"Two men. One was young—pale, thin, dark hair. The other was older, in a dark coat. They were... fighting. But not with fists. With something else."
"Something else?"
"The air around them was wrong. Thick. Heavy. And the light—the light bent around them, like they weren't quite there." Corvin's hands were shaking. "I've seen a lot of things in twenty years, Your Grace. I've seen drunks and thieves and brawls. I've never seen anything like that."
The Duke felt a chill run down his spine.
Avatars, he thought. They were Avatars.
Leximus was fighting an Avatar.
"Which direction did they go?" he asked.
"Toward the slums. The young man was running, and the other one was chasing him. They moved through the crowd like... like ghosts. People were screaming, running, trying to get out of the way."
"And the bombs?"
Corvin shook his head. "I don't know about the bombs. I wasn't there when they went off. I ran. I didn't look back."
"Did you see what happened to the young man? To Leximus?"
"No. But I heard from rumors on the street that—after—that he survived. "
The Duke was silent for a long moment.
"Thank you," he said finally. "Thank you for telling me."
Corvin nodded. "Be careful, Your Grace. The people who did this—they're still out there. They're still watching."
The Duke left the boulevard with his mind racing.
Leximus was fighting an Avatar.
The fight moved from the boulevard to the slums.
And then the bombs went off.
He walked without direction, his thoughts churning. He thought of the corruption that came with power—the way Avatars changed, became something other than human. He had seen it before, in the Audit's records, in the whispered warnings of the Church.
If Leximus has been fighting Avatars—if he's been using whatever power he has—
He may not be the brother Sheila remembers.
He may be something else entirely.
He returned to the hospital as the sun was setting.
Sheila was awake, sitting up in bed, her bandaged arm resting on the blanket. She looked up when he entered, her eyes searching his face.
"Grandfather," she said. "You look troubled."
"I am troubled."
He sat in the chair by the window, suddenly exhausted.
He told her about Corvin, about the fight, how Leximus was seen running towards the slums then how the explosives went off after that, but he left out the detail of them being Avatars
She listened without interrupting, her face pale.
"What do you think he was doing at the procession?" she asked.
"Don't, know as of now am not sure of much of anything."
"Who was he fighting?"
"I don't know. Corvin couldn't identify him."
She was quiet for a moment.
"What do we do now?"
The Duke sighed.
"I don't know," he said. "Every door I knock on closes. Every question I ask goes unanswered. Someone is blocking me, Sheila. Someone with power. Someone who doesn't want the truth to come out."
"Then what?"
"Then I keep looking. I keep asking. I keep knocking." He looked at her. "I made you a promise. I intend to keep it."