The group descended the marble stairs of the Bright Castle in heavy silence, the rhythmic tap of their boots the only sound in the grand hall. Each was busy with their own thoughts.
After Andel's death, they had walked out without opposition. There couldn't be any—it had been a completely legal Challenge. Gemma had let them pass, though Zachary could feel the Lieutenant's gaze boring into his back with a cold, calculative intensity. Yet, as heavy as Gemma's stare was, the weight of the Artisans' eyes had been heavier.
Zachary had already come to terms with it. The board had shifted, and things had to move forward.
"Are you going to be alright?" Nephis asked suddenly.
Zachary turned to face her, genuinely surprised by the question. He might have even been moved by the concern if it weren't for the severed head she was carrying with total, unsettling naturality.
"Why?" Zachary asked, a little confused.
"You have friends in the Castle... and all that," she voiced awkwardly, clearly struggling to articulate her thoughts.
"Oh, that. Don't worry about it," he said dismissively. "I would have been forced to leave the Castle anyway, considering the situation with Seishan. This just moved up the timeline."
Nephis nodded, falling back into her habitual silence. They walked until they reached Effie's cabin once more. This time, Nephis knocked with significantly more delicacy. They didn't have to wait long before the door swung open. Effie was clothed this time, fortunately, and looked ready to recite a fresh verse of vulgarities—until Andel's head rolled to her feet.
Effie stared at the trophy for a long moment, then looked up at them with a gravity Zachary hadn't seen from her before. "Come in."
Before Zachary could even settle onto one of her storage coffers, she was whispering heatedly to Nephis.
"What the hell have you done, Princess?!" She then whipped her head toward Zachary as he sat down. "And why didn't you dissuade her?! You strike me as the most collected one in this group!"
Zachary shrugged tiredly, leaning his head back against the rough wooden wall. A long sigh escaped him as his mind drifted back to the duel—specifically, the match-fixing. Aiko was probably swimming in shards right now, and in the chaos, he hadn't been able to discuss his commission. He was going to have to find a way back into that Castle sooner or later, or he'd be the only "architect" in the slums working for free.
With another sigh, he tuned back into the conversation.
"Let me introduce you two again," Zachary said, his voice regaining some of its theatrical spark. "Before you stands Changing Star of the Immortal Flame clan. Champion of justice, defender of the weak, slayer of demons, the unburnt, breaker of shackles, legitimate heir to—"
He cut himself off as a piercing, lethal gaze from Nephis threatened to set him on fire where he sat.
He coughed into his hand, ignoring her look. "So, yeah. She entered, a slash here, a glare there, and it was done. Pretty efficient work, if you ask me."
Effie looked from him to Nephis, flabbergasted, before erupting into a roar of laughter. "Oh! Oh, gods! Did you really?! This is priceless! I wish I'd been there to see the look on Gemma's face!"
"Can we skip the rest of the introductions?" Zachary asked, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting him. The day had been a marathon of heavy emotions and high stakes. "She has proven her strength. We know your history with the Host, and surprise—ours isn't exactly a friendship either. So, are you in?"
Effie's wide, shark-like grin was the only answer they needed.
Some time later, they were back at their stone lodge. They heated what little food they had brought from the Castle and prepared for sleep—or at least, Cassie and Nephis did.
Zachary couldn't afford such luxury. If their plans held, they would be entering the ruins of the Dark City tomorrow. He knew he would be the one in the most danger; his Attribute was a beacon for any defiled creature with an empty belly. He needed the strength to meet the challenge, or he would perish in the shadows.
He changed his approach to Flow Control. Since his previous attempts had yielded zero results, he decided to start smaller. The feeling of essence moving through his body was strange; there was no real comparison to anything from the Other World. Despite being a form of energy, it had a physical weight—a consistency that felt like hot tar in his veins.
He sought to find the tiniest possible unit of essence he could control through Unity, trying to find a single spark in the seamless whole—
"What are you doing?"
Nephis's voice shattered his focus. The gathered essence dispelled instantly, bleeding back into his limbs. Zachary barely suppressed the urge to click his tongue in frustration, but one look at her face told him she wasn't being difficult; she was genuinely curious.
"Training," he said shortly.
Nephis's expression turned awkward. She looked as though she wanted to ask something more—perhaps offer advice or critique—but after a few seconds, she just sighed and turned back to Cassie, who was already drifting off. Zachary watched her for a moment before snorting quietly and returning to his agonizing practice.
Morning arrived with a speed that felt like a personal insult. Zachary hadn't improved at all.
As the group prepared to depart, Nephis and Effie went over tactical maneuvers while Cassie listened intently. Zachary stepped away from the lodge, needing a moment of solitude. With the commotion of the previous day, he hadn't fully processed the reality of the slums. Waking up in the murky, humid air of the Outer Settlement finally drove it home.
It was unbearable.
His enhanced senses caught every foul scent; the aroma of decay and unwashed bodies became so clear he swore he could taste the misery in the air. He was collecting himself, preparing to return to the girls, when he spotted a figure approaching.
Caster.
The handsome Legacy looked utterly out of place surrounded by such filth, his polished demeanor cutting through the grime of the slums.
"Hey, Zach...ary," he said, stumbling over the nickname and opting for the full name instead.
"Sup, man," Zachary answered, showing no surprise. Caster was finally moving. "What are you doing all the way down here?"
"I want to join Lady Nephis's hunting party," the scion said, his voice grave and practiced.
"And...?" Zachary trailed off. In the novel, Caster had simply appeared and been integrated. This detour was new.
Caster let out a sigh. "I want you to help me."
"Huh?"
"Back at the Castle..." Caster began. He launched into a well-rehearsed speech that Zachary's brain began to filter out after the first ten seconds. He spoke of the Academy, the politics of the Bright Castle, and the ripples caused by Nephis's duel. Zachary could have sworn he heard something about environmental protection or the ozone layer near the end; he wasn't really sure.
It was all a polished, beautiful lie. Zachary knew exactly why Caster was really here.
When the Legacy finally finished his list of "noble" reasons, Zachary remained silent for a beat. Then, he looked Caster in the eye. "Ask her yourself, dude."
Caster's expression shifted into something almost comical, his polished mask slipping for a fraction of a second. He was likely remembering Nephis's cold rejection at the Castle breakfast. But Zachary knew, Nephis hadn't rejected him because of schoolyard gossip; she was already suspicious of him by then.
Zachary knew the risk. If he recommended a potential traitor in her eyes, the trust he had painstakingly built with Nephis would crumble. But she also knew they couldn't turn away a fighter of Caster's caliber—not if they wanted to survive the City.
Before Caster could argue further, Zachary cut him off. "She'll probably accept, mate. We're not in a position to reject a helping hand. Just go talk to her."
Zachary only managed to convince Caster to move after promising he would advocate on his behalf if Nephis refused. He waited a few minutes after the Legacy left before returning to the group himself, making sure to take a long detour so he arrived from the opposite direction. There was no harm in being cautious.
When he finally reached the stone lodge, he found a crowd of slum residents surrounding the group. Their eyes burned with a mixture of hope and desperation—opaque emotions that felt heavy in the humid air. Sensing his approach, Nephis turned and gestured over her shoulder toward Caster.
"He wants to join us," she said matter-of-factly. Zachary just shrugged in response, playing the part of the indifferent observer.
Leaving the fervent gazes of the Outer Settlement behind, the group began the trek toward the ruins of the Dark City. Effie took the lead, her stride confident and loose. Just as they reached the jagged threshold of the city limits, Nephis turned to Zachary again.
"We were talking with Effie before you arrived. She will lead the way, while Caster and I take the front of the hunt," she began, her face a mask of impassive authority. "You and Cassie will stay in the rear and provide support if necessary."
Zachary's brow furrowed. The plan was fundamentally flawed. "I'm against it. You know my situation."
A vague frown flickered across her face at his blunt refusal. "Yes, that is wh—"
"This isn't the Labyrinth anymore," he interrupted. "The Dark City is an urban environment. Unlike the open corals, we won't have much room to maneuver if we get pinned. Effie and I should take the lead—tank and main aggro. You'll be the primary damage dealer. Caster, with the mobility he showed back at the Academy, can act as a harasser, shifting between positions to cover gaps. Cassie stays in the back to support with her staff."
Zachary felt strange explaining this to the group. Mostly because if he—who knew nothing about Awakened strategy—could think of this inmediatly, then Nephis with her Legacy education must have thought something even better.
Keeping him in the back with Cassie was a recipe for disaster. With his Attribute constantly drawing attention, he would be leading every nightmare creature in the vicinity straight to their most vulnerable member.
So why was she pushing for it? Was she trying to keep him away from the front lines, or was she trying to keep an eye on him?
"Me?" Effie asked with a dry, amused chuckle. "I thought I was just hired as a guide."
Zachary cursed inwardly. She was right—but before he could pivot his argument, she shrugged. "But oh, well. Since you asked so nicely, I guess I can do a little heavy lifting."
Nephis's frown deepened, but Effie continued before she could speak. "I'm with Mr. Inconvenient on this one, Princess. Besides, his senses work perfectly with mine. I'll need him at the front to help me navigate the blind spots."
"Wait, what 'situation'?" Caster asked, looking sideways at Zachary with growing curiosity.
"Oh, you'll see. It'll be fun," Zachary said.
Nephis finally exhaled, her frown remaining as she gave a stiff, reluctant nod of agreement. Zachary didn't quite understand where her reluctance was coming from, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.
"Fun? You call that fun?" Effie asked, glancing at him like he'd lost his mind.
"Well, comedy is subjective," Zachary chuckled as they stepped over the rubble and officially entered the ruins of the Dark City.
They moved with calculated haste, stopping only when the wind shifted or a distant stone skittered. Just as Effie had predicted, Zachary's senses meshed perfectly with her veteran experience. Unlike his first frantic journey through these ruins, his perception was now calibrated; he could filter the noise and translate the vibrations into a functional map of their surroundings. It wasn't the absolute clarity of Sunny's shadows, but for a man playing a lethal game of chess, it was enough.
After a couple of hours, they reached a shattered plaza. A set of massive stone stairs rose from the wreckage, leading to the city's second level. According to Effie, the open space made it a bloodbath for apex predators at night, but during the day, it was a scavenging ground for the "weakest" things the city had to offer.
They were waiting for those scavengers now.
Zachary opened his mouth to make a dry comment about the city's questionable zoning laws, but Danger Sense began to buzz at the base of his skull. He pointed silently toward the stairs.
Three creatures were picking their way down the steps. They looked like a fever-dream hybrid of a mangy wolf and a pangolin, covered in thick, overlapping scales. Each had five eyes—two on the left, three on the right—giving their heads a lopsided, alien appearance. Only their tails and bellies remained soft and exposed.
"Awakened Beasts," Effie whispered, her voice tightening with a hunter's focus. "Ready, Mr. Inconvenient?"
"Just call me Zach at this point," he muttered, summoning his sword. "It's shorter than that nickname."
"Oh, right!" she whispered back, an excited glint in her eyes as a heavy, round bronze shield materialized on her arm. "I did say I'd give you an awesome nickname next time we met. Thanks for the reminder."
"Focus," Nephis hushed from behind them, her face an impassive mask of silver and stone.
They both nodded. Playtime was over.
The group began to close the distance. The beasts noticed them immediately and broke into a predatory gallop, but as they crossed the twenty-meter mark, the atmosphere shifted. The [Blasphemer] radius had been breached.
The change was instantaneous. The wolves ignored Effie—who had stepped forward into an impenetrable stance, shield raised to absorb the impact—and veered sharply toward Zachary. He felt the familiar, cold pull of their hunger as he sidestepped just as the first wolf lunged for his throat.
The creatures were barely a meter long, but they moved with a frantic, twitchy speed. Zachary avoided the initial snap with practiced ease, but three beasts attacking from random vectors began to show how important Cinder Eyes and his Body Control were.
Snapping one fo the beast's jaw close with the edge of Ender's Solace, Zachary suddenly backed away with great agility.
He positioned himself directly behind Effie, using her bronze shield as a physical anchor. One of the wolves crashed into the metal with a dull thud, but the other two flowed around her like a river avoiding a rock. They didn't even snap at her ankles; they ignored her completely.
He continued to retreat, drawing the beasts further into the trap. Just as the two wolves coiled their haunches to leap for his vitals, two distinct blurs—one white, one green—intersected their path. Nephis and Caster appeared with synchronized precision, their blades flashing in the dim light. Two clean thrusts found the soft, uncovered bellies of the beasts.
The remaining wolf lunged, its five eyes bloodshot and fixed on Zachary's throat. It leaped with a snarl, only to be yanked violently backward in mid-air.
Effie had snatched the beast by its tail. With a grin, she slammed it into the stone floor with a wet, bone-shattering crack. A second later, her bronze shield descended like a guillotine, severing the wolf's head in one clean motion.
Just like that, the hunt was over.
"Easiest hunt I've had!" Effie cheered. She unsummoned her shield, and a set of butcher's tools appeared in a flurry of white sparks. As she knelt to work on the carcasses, she glanced up at Zachary.
"I didn't see it in action last time, but that is one fucked-up Attribute you've got there," she said, skillfully separating the choice cuts. "They ignored me completely. And you say you survived two months in the Labyrinth with that?"
Her eyes held a rare mix of respect and incredulity. Behind him, Caster's expression mirrored hers. The Legacy looked genuinely surprised by the revelation, and Zachary caught a calculative spark in those green eyes. Caster had clearly found a new variable to factor into his plans.
Oblivious to the subtext, Effie continued. "But oh well. You really make for some top-tier bait—"
"Let's return," Nephis interrupted, her ivory face returning to its usual, impassive mask.
The walk back to the Outer Settlement was smooth and undisturbed. Once they reached the safety of the white arc, they handed over a significant portion of the spoils to Effie as her fee. Then, Nephis turned to the rest of them.
"I would like for you three to entrust me with your portion of the meat," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
"Of course, Neph!" Cassie chirped immediately.
"As you wish, Lady Nephis," Caster added with a polite bow.
"Why?" Zachary asked.
Cassie and Caster turned to look at him as if he'd just insulted a saint. Even Nephis frowned, clearly not expecting resistance. Zachary wasn't doing this to be a contrarian; he wanted to hear it from her. He knew the "script"—he knew she was going to feed the hungry to build her legend—but he wanted to see if this Nephis would be open about her ambitions.
Nephis held his gaze for a long moment. Her face was a fortress that even Cinder Eyes couldn't peer into. Finally, she spoke.
"We are going to share it with the Outer Settlement."
"We? I didn't know you spoke French," Zachary mocked. "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"
Nephis didn't blink. "I don't speak French."
"Thank God," Zachary muttered. He shifted his tone, becoming more serious. "Look, I don't really have a problem with what you're doing, but I want you to remember something."
He pointed two fingers at her and then at Cassie. "You both still owe me Demon meat. Don't think I've forgotten."
Cassie flinched. The memory of the Soul Devourer was not a chapter of her life she enjoyed revisiting. "Zach—"
"Do you know how many kids in Africa could have been fed with that pile we lost?" Zachary cut her off with faked dramatism, making it clear he wasn't actually carrying a grudge.
Cassie stared at him, deadpan. "Zach, the Western Quadrant is one of the most prosperous Siege Capitals in the world."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Zachary sighed, dropping the act. "Just talk to us before you try anything next time. Okay, Neph?"
Nephis looked at him for a few seconds before turning toward the slums, the meat already in her hands. Her silence was the only answer he was going to get. Zachary watched her go, then sighed and picked up his own small, private share of the kill.
"Demon?" Caster asked from behind, his voice laced with confusion, but Zachary ignored him. He kept his pace steady, following behind Nephis.
As they reached the heart of the Outer Settlement, a crowd was already waiting, drawn by the scent of fresh blood and the promise of a miracle. Nephis walked forward and laid the meat at her feet. Knowing exactly what speech was coming, a frown creased Zachary's brow. He'd seen enough of this "script" for one day. He turned on his heel and began walking in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" Cassie whispered, her heightened hearing catching his departure immediately.
"I'll be returning first," he said without looking back.
As he walked, Zachary caught a final glimpse of Nephis standing before the starving masses, talking about pride and what it meant to be human. He shook his head and kept moving.
'She didn't share her plan,' Zachary thought, that nameless emotion stirring in his chest again. 'Maybe because Caster was there. Or maybe, despite everything, she still doesn't trust me completely... Doesn't matter.'
The first part of her plan—gathering a force to contend with Gunlaug—was inevitable. It was the second part that haunted him. He desperately needed to know if his presence had changed anything in the way Nephis viewed the endgame of the Forgotten Shore.
'I can't worry about that right now,' he told himself, forcing the thought away. 'I have more immediate problems.'
Back at the lodge, he lit a small fire and began cooking his share of the meat. He didn't care about seasoning or the perfect sear; he just wanted it cooked enough to eat. Once it was ready, he shoved the steaming pieces into his mouth, barely registering the heat as he swallowed.
He sat cross-legged, closing his eyes. It was time for the real work.
Digesting essence had become a boon that took Zachary by surprise. Beyond the raw strength gained from filling a Soul Core, this method allowed for an organic, anatomical enhancement of his physical form. But the true breakthrough had come after his Enlightenment: the ability to manipulate the essence nesting in his bones and muscles.
He didn't pay attention to the nutrients traveling through his gut. Instead, he tracked the minuscule currents of essence hitching a ride in his bloodstream.
He'd realized the problem the night before. After nearly three months on the Shore, every meal he'd eaten had contained essence, so it was only natural that his body held a considerable amount of it. Unlike his Soul Core, this essence was difficult to quantify—but he could feel that there was plenty.
And now said quantity acted like "noise" that drowned out the subtle signals he was trying to catch.
To fix it, he focused on the new essence—the "unclaimed" energy from the wolf meat. He tracked its path, reaching the same conclusion as before: despite being a form of energy, essence had a physical presence.
'Is it like light?' he wondered, his brow creasing in deep concentration. 'Can it exist as both a wave and a particle?'
Particle.
Zachary pushed his senses to the limit. He had spent so much time training Cinder Eyes to perceive the world around him that turning that gaze inward was a grueling, agonizing process. But slowly, he began to feel it. Something tiny. Something insignificant. A single unit—
"What are you doing?"
"Fuck!" Zachary yelped, his eyes snapping open. Caster was standing a few steps away, arms crossed, watching him with an intensity that felt far too sharp.
"Can't a ni— man train in peace for five minutes?" Zachary snapped, barely catching the profanity before it slipped out.
"My apologies," Caster said, though his voice lacked any real remorse. He sat down directly across from Zachary, his eyes never leaving him.
Clearly, Zachary's complaint had fallen on deaf ears. He let out a resigned sigh, his shoulders slumping. It was obvious that his training session was officially over.
Zachary stared into Caster's green eyes, taking slow, deliberate breaths to steady his racing heart. 'Be kind, be kind, be kind,' he chanted internally. 'He's just a teenager. A classist teenager with delusions of grandeur, sure, but a teenager nonetheless.'
Slowly, Zachary regained control. He forced his usual carefree smile onto his face and leaned back. "Well, you're already here. What can I do for you?"
Caster arched an eyebrow, a polite, practiced smile adorning his tanned face. "Nothing much. I just wanted to talk with a companion about today's hunt."
Zachary nodded, feeling a spark of amusement at where the Legacy was likely steering this. "It was fast. We should keep up this rythm."
"Yes, we should... But I can't help but think..." Caster let the words trail off, his smile remaining perfectly in place. "That Attribute of yours. It's really something, isn't it?"
He paused, a hint of performative worry bleeding into his voice. "They ignored everyone else just to get to you. And two months in the Labyrinth, you said? It must have been incredibly hard."
"Are you really showing interest in 'hard' things?" Zachary didn't even try to stop the dry joke from escaping.
He rested his back against the cold stone wall with a chuckle. Caster stumbled over his next few words, coughing awkwardly as his polished momentum hit a snag.
"That sense of humor of yours..." the Legacy said, trying to force a laugh. "I'm just saying... as a Legacy, we have records of a myriad of Attributes. But one with that specific kind of... attraction..."
Caster left the rest unsaid, but Zachary caught the meaning immediately. The doubt in the boy's voice, the insistence on the topic—it was obvious. He didn't believe [Blasphemer] was an Attribute at all, instead—
"Are you asking about my Flaw?" Zachary didn't beat around the bush. He went straight for the jugular.
Caster nearly choked on his own spit. He broke into a fit of genuine, awkward coughing. Despite his training in diplomacy, the bluntness of the question had bypassed all his defenses. Among the Awakened, asking about a Flaw was more than a social faux pas; it was a taboo, a breach of the ultimate survival secret.
There were some people who were open about them, having no problem to share it with others. Aside from Effie, Zachary had met some of them in the Castle, but for the rest...
As Caster continued his coughing fit, Zachary pressed the advantage. "I don't really mind talking about it, you know? But you might also know that this type of trust... it has to flow both ways."
Zachary focused on Caster—the tanned skin, the bright eyes, the proud set of his armor. But Cinder Eyes caught something more. Beneath the collar of his tunic, the pale shine of a chain peeked through for a fraction of a second. Oblivious to Zachary's scrutiny, Caster's hand moved instinctively to his throat, covering the necklace.
"I overstepped. I'm sorry," Caster apologized. The sincerity in his voice actually surprised Zachary. It wasn't the polished apology of a noble; it was the sincere response of someone who realized they had almost made a mistake.
The two of them sat in silence for a long moment. Zachary cursed inwardly, realizing too late that he should have asked Cassie for the Endless Spring before they parted. Now that the adrenaline of the hunt had faded, the scorched meat he'd wolfed down was beginning to take its toll, leaving his throat feeling like he'd swallowed a handful of hot sand.
His thirst-driven thoughts were interrupted by Caster's voice.
"Since we're in the spirit of apologies..." the Legacy began, a genuine flicker of awkwardness crossing his handsome face. "I think I should also apologize for the way I treated you back at the Academy. Hearing how the people in the Castle talk about you... it made me realize I might have been wrong about your character."
To say Zachary was surprised was an understatement. Caster was effectively shattering every preconceived notion Zachary had of him. He looked at the scion, and that nameless feeling—that sharp, dissociative ache—began to claw at the edges of his heart again.
"Don't worry about it, man," Zachary said, scratching the back of his neck with an awkwardness that mirrored Caster's. "Between us... I wasn't exactly in the right place emotionally back then."
"I can understand," Caster said absentmindedly. "After what you went through..."
"What I went through?" Zachary's crimson eyes sharpened instantly, the easy-going facade vanishing. "How would you know anything about what I went through?"
Caster paled, realized he'd made a tactical blunder. Zachary held his gaze with a terrifying, silent intensity for what felt like hours. Finally, Caster bit his lip and let out a heavy sigh.
"We had you investigated. Please, try to understand," he said, raising his hands defensively. "You beat Stephen to a pulp. He was humiliated and insisted on an inquiry. So, we learned about... well, we learned about you."
Zachary nodded slowly, but he caught the lie woven into the truth. Back at the Academy, Caster hadn't cared about Stephen's bruised ego. Thanks to his crimson eyes, he'd suspected Zachary of being a Valor spawn—another secret operative who might share his mission. He'd investigated to ensure Zachary was just a "nobody" before moving forward.
Zachary continued to study the Legacy before finally shrugging. "Well, no hard feelings, I guess. Though you have to admit... the guy deserved the beating, didn't he?"
Caster let out a genuine chuckle. "I'm not allowed to answer that." The laughter died quickly, replaced by a sudden, heavy shift in the atmosphere. Caster's eyes turned stone-cold and serious.
"As a Legacy, you won't find us badmouthing our own. It would be... unseemly." He turned his gaze toward the door, his voice taking on a formal, almost rehearsed weight. "Our names don't belong to us entirely. The weight of our Clan rests on everything we do. Honor, pride... our mission."
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken threats and years of indoctrination. Finally, Zachary stood up, dusting off his pants. "Well, I wouldn't know anything about that."
He began walking toward the door, ready to put some distance between himself and the Legacy's stifling sense of duty. But once again, Caster's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"We're not done talking, Zach," Caster said, standing up. "What would you say if—"
"Why don't we just get over this, man?" Zachary interrupted, not even turning around. "Look, I enjoyed the chat and all that, but you don't strike me as the talkative type. So why don't you just say what you came here to say so we can get this over with?"
Zachary glanced back over his shoulder. Caster was watching him with that usual careful, calculative demeanor. Finally, with a well-practiced sigh, the Legacy spoke.
"You're close with Lady Nephis, right?"
"Huh?" The question actually caught Zachary off guard.
"Well, it's not surprising," Caster continued, his polite smile returning like a mask. "But we're going to be working together from now on, and I was thinking... if you wouldn't mind—"
Zachary stopped listening as he continued. He knew exactly where this was going. 'Was youth always like this? Or is it just the generational gap?' he lampooned, feeling a sudden, heavy exhaustion.
"Are you asking for my permission or something?" Zachary asked, his tone faint with mockery. "Do whatever you want, man. I don't need to know what you do in your free time."
Before Caster could argue or refine his "diplomatic" approach, Zachary walked out of the stone lodge. He began picking his way through the slums, searching for an empty hut where he could find a moment of true solitude.
He understood what Caster was attempting at the end—the boy was trying to get closer to Nephis through her companions, playing the role of the respectful ally. But he had fundamentally misread the room. Nephis wasn't someone who would be so easily deceived; by this point, she likely already suspected the truth of Caster's presence. And even in the rare case that she didn't...
'I can't worry about her right now,' Zachary thought, closing his eyes and trying to feel the hum of his soul even as he walked.
'I have more pressing matters at hand.'