Chaos ruled over Kupferrang, and all Emma could do was watch from high above.
Since late morning, the city had turned into a nightmare. She couldn't make out much. Her room was on one of the highest levels of the bureau. She heard it well enough, though. The faint screams and yelling. The masses at one point, hurrying after something. A sight she hoped to never experience again.
Emma had sat on her bed, playing the lute Adenius had given her, when the explosion had echoed throughout Kupferrang. Something at the wall was burning, smoke rising from it. It was too dark to notice anything else. Adenius hadn't visited her all day. Without his explanations, she was blind to the events down there. But her gut told her Liron was part of the shitshow.
She cringed at the thought. Liron had a talent for making an ass of himself. He was the smartest person she knew, but her brother was his worst enemy as well. Six large fires were burning. If she squinted her eyes, she made out shadows dancing around it. At one point, she had heard the howling of wolves. The beasts had dogged the walls for days, but this time it came from inside Kupferrang. Abandoned by all sanity, this city had become Drom's playground. What was her brother supposed to do? He would be swallowed up and chewed out. All because he didn't have the wit to leave her behind.
After losing their parents, she wanted him to live. Whether he fought the Empire or not, it didn't matter to her. She wanted nothing more than for him to be happy. To be somewhere where he could smile without pause and falter. Perhaps at such a place he would value his life.
Yet she smiled, imagining Liron battling against the Empire itself to save her. She was always certain of his love, but they both shared more than their blood. Like him, she struggled with uncertainty. Be their parents blessed, they had their issues. And their home wasn't always a place one wanted to return to. Sometimes it was. But other times, it was agony incarnated. Who wouldn't learn suspicion, fearing that no peace could last.
Liron had proven that their bond would never be severed. Emma would have done the same. This gave her hope, a blade sharp enough to fend off the dark thoughts. Liron had to live. And they would be together again.
Emma replayed her conversation with Liron, wondering whether she did the right thing. She had refused to give them the intel Adenius had shared with her. A man like him didn't know the difference between truth and lie. Both simple tools to be utilized for his end. Telling them anything was a mistake, each word twisted by the Inquisitor's mask.
But could she have lied to him about their parents' fate? Had she fallen for Adenius' trap? Did the Inquisitor know that she would not tell him anything but what happened to them?
The way Liron had cut off their connection, he had suffered. For all his life, he had thought him to be the shadow cast over their parents. The one thing preventing them from enjoying life. His mind had gotten its hand on the weapon it always desired: one to torment him, proving his cursed existence. And Emma had handed it to him. She had failed as a sister. Her pained conscience had thrust a dagger deep into Liron's chest. What foolish things had he done, blinded by grief?
Reflecting on her greatest failure, Emma swore herself one thing. Should she survive her execution, she would never let her heart be moved like this. When fighting an enemy like the Empire, one needed to be more akin to cold iron. Only in the presence of those she would love and trust would she allow herself to be human again. Only then and to those would she play the lute again.
Such a woman she wanted to become. This person wouldn't be caged like a helpless little girl, dragging her brother into danger. She would not fear Adenius and be played by him like a puppet by its master. Emma etched this picture of her future self into her mind, a guiding star that would watch her, her eyes ordering Emma to be better.
Though, Emma had felt like she'd been watched since this morning. A tingle on her neck, a shudder scratching over her skin. Nothing concrete, but her instincts warned her. Her mother had schooled her to be aware of attention she didn't want. The one that cared little for her well-being.
Adenius was a crafty man. Emma knew nothing about Machinas, but she had seen what they are capable of. If one could alter the Inquisitor's voice, could another keep watch of her, showing her every motion to him?
Whatever it was, she had to act with the belief Adenius did see what she was doing. Otherwise, he might catch wind of what she was trying to do. Emma had followed Liron's instructions, but she had failed to open her Gate. In her dreams, she had yet to open them either. Normally, it took a normal person weeks under the guidance of a Wizard. For each person, it was different. Some read through countless books. Others debated with their masters, while others went deep inside themselves. The thing connecting them all was gaining a profound understanding of one's core. She had to come into contact with what lay inside, hidden underneath herself.
Even for the best, it had taken days before they unlocked their Gate. How was a tree supposed to accomplish such a feat for her? Had Liron turned mad in the days they had been apart? But if he hadn't become a Wizard himself, how had he survived the journey until now?
Emma groaned, dropping herself onto her bed. She pressed a cushion into her face, babbling into it. If, by some miracle, she did lure this tree to her, what then? She needed a good Conduit. Once freed from Adenius' grasp, she could break the connection without any risks, but she still required a Conduit that would be useful in the fight ahead.
Her first thought, of course, was her lute. But both in the dreams and the waking world, she refused to do so. Her music was something to express herself with. When she played, she won the respect of people who hadn't had any before. Emma had always defined herself by being against something. Her mother, her village, the Empire. She only knew how to fight. When she lacked a target, she had felt lost. A leaf at the mercy of the wind.
But her lute gave her the strength to resist. When she played, she created something. Fleeting, alive for only a moment, yet it lingered in those who had listened, impacting them in small but important ways. Emma could be without a fight or cause. She could be only herself and be accepted. The greatest of songs, trapped inside her instruments. Only her hands could bring forth the treasures hidden inside her lute. This pursuit, searching for what beauty she had yet to find, was the best of her.
To defile this by turning it into a weapon, perfecting the art of killing. No, her music had to remain pure. By dragging it into the depths of combat, she would lose herself there, too. Another monster meant for nothing but to spread misery.
Emma had looked thourghout her room. Adenius had explained how it once was his. His old mask, with a smaller beak and lacking the Machina, several uniforms signaling a lesser rank inside the Inquisition, and books and notes from his past. She hadn't improved far enough in her dreams to read them. She had used them to practice, struggling to decipher his words. What she could read, Adenius' writing was cold and distant, describing his former targets as objects to be dismantled. Characteristics that he could exploit, weaknesses he could create. At the end, he had given them a rating of how enjoyable he found the hunt.
Disgusting.
Emma sneered at the thought of this cursed book. She stood up, knocking against her door. "I need to go to the shitter," she said. "But I don't want… I want Tobées to walk me there."
Her parents said nothing, one of them fetching the Inquisitor's apprentice. She heard him complaining long before he opened her door. "Count yourself lucky that Adenius is a merciful man," he said. He spoke in a Lors accent. From the short burst in which he spoke his language, Emma knew it to be beautiful. Where her language was harsher, sounding like a dog barking, Tobées' had an inherent melodic nature to it. Their songs must have been beautiful.
Emma strolled next to the apprentice. Tobées had heavy eyebags, his fingers fidgeting around. He wanted to stomp to the bathroom and be done with her needs as fast as possible. But Emma was allowed to stretch her legs at whatever pace she wanted. Adenius had made sure for his apprentice to know that.
Tobées muttered something to himself in Lors. "Please, girl, can you walk faster? I have places to be."
"Not outside, I guess. Seems… lively down there."
Tobées grunted. "You have no idea, girl. Kupferrang is in Drom's… hands. I don't… oh, not that again."
"What?"
Tobées chuckled to himself, a manic edge to it. He rubbed his eyes. "I will not tell you anything. I know what you are doing. You think me a simpleton? A… a… moron? Non, I know your… plans. You can't trick me!"
"Oh, but I would never think o' such a thing."
"Don't play… ehr… coy. I know your Nords are simple creatures. Thus your schemes are, too. I see through them."
"You're on the place thing again. Who cares where I'm from?"
"I do. Your history and blood are important. They carry weight and responsibility. They give you your… righteous place in the Empire."
"That's why you have to kiss Adenius' ass."
Tobées snared. "The only lips I will ever kiss are the ones of a lady of my station. Once I have proven myself, then my famille will see my true… ehr… worth."
"I told you already, you gotta put your foot down and show 'em you're not some child anymore."
Emma stepped into the bathroom. Tobées leaned against the door, sighing. Once the topic of his family came up, he forgot all prenotions of their positions. Emma became an ear willing to listen. So she did, while sitting on the toilet as Tobées never stopped talking.
"I wish it was that easy," Tobées said. His strained nerves calmed into something melancholic. "The Flirant name is an important one. For generations, we have fought as great generals in Sannara. My brothers are fighting there, and I can't join them as long…"
Emma buried her face in her hands. How tired she was of having the same conversation with Tobées. He repeated the same woes to her, never growing tired of them. She had, though. After the first time.
"… and my dear papa was always so… stern. He never told me that he is proud of me. Not that I want him to, of course, but…"
As Emma opened the door to the bathroom, Tobées jumped a bit, clearing his throat as she left. "Ah, you are done? Good. Let us return. My duties wait for me."
Despite being Adenius' apprentice, Emma had started to like Tobées. The young man had no evil heart. He was spoiled and the wrong choice for his position, but he didn't deserve her ire. It pained her, but she needed information out of him.
As they walked back, she thought of the right angle to use. With time against her, she was forced to take lessons from the Inquisitor himself. Having experienced his methods firsthand, she was its closest viewer. Adenius learned from every word said or unsaid. Emma had to adopt this mindset.
"Come now, Tobées," Emma said, "you have to give me something. What's going on down there?"
Tobées sighed. "Adenius is hunting for your brother, what else?"
He seemed hesitant. Like he didn't want to talk about it. "I know, but things hadn't been this messy before."
"Well, your brother is… stubborn. It… what do you say… runs in the family."
"Thank you, it does. But this is pretty bad, right? Adenius is using all he has left. Isn't he afraid that they might attack the bureau?"
Tobées shrugged. He was frustrated. He didn't understand what his master was doing either. No, it was more. He didn't agree with it.
"There have to be better ways than this," Emma said. She was close.
"Oh, there would have been," Tobées said, too eager. "He could have… well, my opinion doesn't matter. He is the Inquisitor for a reason."
"Sure, but Inquisitors aren't known for thinkin' about anyone but themselves, right? Pretty sure he's sacrificin' a lot to achieve his goals."
Tobées pressed his lips together into a line.
"I mean, it's good for me. When my brother and his friends show up with your trousers down, I'll get out. You, on the other hand," Emma grimaced, "Uh, it could be ugly. You should better learn how to hide."
Tobées snorted, rolling his eyes. "Pah. You know nothing. Adenius made sure they will not have an easy time getting to you. And I can defend myself! Just so you know, I'm an artist with the blade. I don't enjoy the same guarding you do, but I will live through this."
There it was. The opening she had been looking for. Her parents were not much different from Sinners. Tobées was training as a Warpriest. He would have control over a smaller Fallen Choir. If Adenius had set guards on her that Tobées didn't have, this could mean only one thing.
Before they reached her room, her parents unmoving as they closed up, Emma stopped, pulling Tobées close. "Adenius has me watched, right? Someone else besides my parents?"
His eyes widened. She had caught him off-guard, preventing all his mental defenses to arise. The recognition in his face told her all she needed to know. Realizing the trap he had fallen into, Tobées hissed, pulling him free.
"You would make a great Inquisitor, girl," Tobées said, pushing her towards her room.
As she stepped inside. "You wouldn't," she said. "Be careful. You're a good man."
Tobées blinked at her. He nodded, locking her back into her cell.
While not knowing how she was watched, Emma had the confirmation she needed. She couldn't act without a pair of eyes observing her. Tobées' last remark had a bitter taste to it. Comparing her to the Inquisition. What a foul thing to say. The Empire's worst.
But they were effective. Emma would give them that. Adenius had played them all well for the little he had at hand. He had planted a fear inside her heart that no reason could silence. In the war ahead, she would need to fight fire with fire. To defeat an evil like the Empire, she would need to get her hands dirty.
Adenius had taught her well. Did he intend this to happen to his dear friend?
"Mother, Father," Emma called. "Come in."
Her parents obeyed her within strict limitations. They entered, standing still as statues. Their chest didn't rise, and underneath their mask, they didn't blink. Emma steadied her breath, stepping up in front of them. The sight brought tears to her eyes, but she had to be brave. She couldn't continue without knowing for sure.
"Take off your masks."
They did. A breath escaped Emma's lips. Her parents' faces were deadly pale, bereft of all life. Golden veins spread throughout their skin, marking them as Harras' puppets. Their eyes had no life in them, reflecting no light. Pearls made from dead wood. Looking into them, one could see a void where a soul should reside.
Slowly, she reached out. She stroked their cheeks, hoping to feel the familiar sensation she had always known. All the bitter and pointless arguments she had with both of them. Wasted time she could never get back. She would never hear their voices again. Whatever was housed in their bodies served only as torment to her.
They were gone. Truly and unquestionably.
Emma lowered her gaze, letting the tears fall. "Pull your masks up again and leave."
They did, steps silent as falling leaves. Emma didn't move. It came at her without splendor or raging ferocity. An embrace, arms cold as a lonely grave, took hold of her. She wanted nothing but for the Empire to burn. A want that ran deep, sinking from her head to her toes. Where her disdain of the Empire was born from her youthful rebellion against all authority, this new one stemmed from grief. She had no say in the matter. Without passion, eyes filled with tears, she knew she would fight to her parting breath. A calm certainty. She would bring justice to the Emperor himself as her brother had done in the vision.
With that, her surroundings shifted, and she saw it. The tree.
As Liron had described it. Emma lacked the heart to marvel in its alien magnificence. Her head bowed, she received its gift, and her Gate was open.
Returning to her cell, her Magic hungered for a Conduit. Tobées' words echoed in her head, and she knew what to do.
Careful, she made her shoulders tremble, the shaking spreading throughout her body. She didn't need to fake the sobs. Or the anger.
Screaming, she ran rampant, throwing herself around like a child. A disgrace. A sight even a paid pair of eyes might look away from for but a moment.
Emma tore Adenius' old closet open, tearing his belongings apart. She cursed his name as she rent his notebooks. She took the pages and threw them out of the window. Piece by piece, Emma did the same with all except the mask. The Inquisitor was effective. Tobées had said she had talent.
In the chaos of her making, she touched the mask, fog dancing around her fingers. In seconds, the mask was gone, becoming a part of herself. She continued with her act for minutes more, discarding all that Adenius called his own.
Exhausted, she fell into her bed, staring at the ceiling. She would destroy the Empire with its own weapons.