When it got dark, Valentina wrapped her darkest cloak around her and pulled the hood low over her face. She had bought the cloak at the market a few months ago to get incognito to Violet Delights – a simple but well-made piece without any conspicuous features. Perfect for not standing out at night.

"A few extra precautions can't hurt," Vyxara muttered in her head. "The Emberwardens may think they've caught their evildoers, but never underestimate the vigilance of fanatics."

Valentina nodded silently and checked one last time to make sure the coat hid her completely.

She waited until the last noises outside had faded, then slipped silently out of her room. The corridors of the student quarters lay deserted, nobody was out, nobody was carousing. From one of the rooms she passed came the sound of muffled sobs.

The path through the university courtyard was tricky. Though many of the Emberwardens had been withdrawn to secure the city dungeon, a few had remained behind. Valentina kept to the shadows of the buildings.

Arriving at the south wall, which was fortunately unguarded, she carefully wove her opening pattern. The heavy gate opened silently. She slipped through and closed it again behind her.

Shortly afterwards, the forest lay before her like a black wall. She knew the way to her hiding place, but it was not easy to find her way in the darkness. After about twenty minutes of careful progress, she reached the small hill where she had buried her forbidden books and the stolen Distilled Essence.

"Be careful," warned Vyxara. "Even if it's unlikely, someone could have followed us."

Valentina peered into the darkness, but nothing was stirring between the trees. Only an owl called in the distance. She undid the protective patterns and lifted away the earth at the marked spot with an Ard Essence pattern.

The waterproof bag was intact. She carefully pulled out the six precious Distilled Essence vials, the last ones left from her heist last year. She left the forbidden books where they were.

"That should be enough," she whispered. "Enough to give Faustus a chance to escape."

"And enough to protect yourself if something goes wrong," Vyxara added matter-of-factly.

Valentina carefully buried the bag again and renewed the protective patterns. Then she made her way back into the city.

The dungeons of Bridgewater were a sinister complex beneath the town hall – ancient vaults of black stone where prisoners had languished for centuries. As she approached the building, she could see the guards at the entrances. Emberwardens patrolled the perimeter in their full battle gear.

She watched for a while from the shadows of an alleyway. The main entrances were well guarded, but there was a side entrance through which supplies were delivered and garbage and waste removed. There were only two guards standing there, talking boredly.

"Change of watch in an hour," one of them mumbled just loud enough for Valentina to pick it up with her Essence Listening. "Then we can finally warm up."

She smiled grimly. This was her chance. The six vials of Distilled Essence clinked quietly in her pocket as she retreated deeper into the shadows, waiting for the right moment.

"Please be careful ," Vyxara warned again. "What you're about to-"

"I know," Valentina thought back. "But I can't let Faustus die for my mistake. And Gladder... we have to find out what he knows. Before it's too late."

She wove a subtle Luvt pattern that created a rustling sound from inside the entrance. One of the guards turned his head. "Did you hear that?"

While one of them went inside to investigate, Valentina scurried closer to the other.

Valentina wove Leb Essence to control the biological processes, Ard Essence for stability and control. The dangerous pattern that Vyxara had taught her to heal Jenny's foot formed flawlessly.

As she knew, there was a thickened branch in the neck between the carotid artery and the cephalic artery. This junction was very sensitive to pressure. With her pattern, she constricted the tissue just enough to render him unconscious. The guard slumped silently.

She caught the heavy body, dragged him inside and leaned it carefully against the wall again. It would look as if he had just dozed off – she hoped. After a while, maybe an hour, the pattern would dissolve – she hoped.

"Elegant enough ," Vyxara commented approvingly. "You're getting more and more dangerous."

The stench inside hit her like a blow. Mold, feces and the metallic smell of old blood. Old Essence lamps cast only a dim light on the damp walls. She quickly went deeper inside and nearly collided with the other guard who peeked around a corner. She repeated the pattern, and he was out in seconds as well.

"Better check what's going on down here first," Vyxara whispered in her head.

Valentina activated her Essence Listening. The muffled murmur of conversation reached her ears, mixed with the occasional moan from the cells. She oriented herself to the sounds and crept deeper into the dungeon.

The path led her deeper into the dungeon. The corridors became narrower, the air stuffier. Two more guards fell victim to her pattern. Her confidence grew with every success.

Muffled voices came from a side corridor. Valentina intensified her Essence Listening.

"... Continue interrogation tomorrow morning," someone said. "The Illuminator finally wants to see results."

"And if they don't talk?"

"Then they just burn silently."

Valentina pressed her lips together. No time to lose.

The high-security cells were easy to recognize – heavy iron doors reinforced with Essence patterns. In front of one of the doors stood the Illuminator himself and one of his Essence Weavers.

"He has to reveal something," Eastwald growled in frustration. "Get him to talk. Think, how could you cause him as much pain as possible?"

Valentina felt Vyxara's presence in her mind recede. She had to be close to Gladder's cell.

Weaving two patterns at the same time was risky, but she had no choice. She moved in synchronization, as if she was writing with both hands at the same time. The first pattern for the Illuminator, the second for his Essence Weaver.

It almost went wrong. The Essence Weaver twitched as if sensing something, breaking Valentina's concentration, almost losing control of the pattern. His eyes widened – then his body went limp. For a terrifying moment, Valentina thought she might have perforated the artery. But he was still breathing. Yet.

The Illuminator slumped down beside him. With great effort, Valentina heaved them both onto two stools in the anteroom of the cell. She took a deep breath. The hardest part was done. With trembling hands, she undid the protective patterns on the cell door.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

~

The cell was small and damp, the air stuffy with an overwhelming stench of feces. Gladder was cowering in a corner where the floor was covered in filth – they hadn't even left him a cot.

His stumps were wrapped in makeshift, dirty bandages, through which blood was already seeping again. His face was disfigured by blows, one eye swollen shut. But in the other, that unnatural, insane, inhuman fire was still burning.

When Valentina opened the cell door, he raised his head. A cruel smile creased his features. "Ah, the vessel comes to visit."

"I want answers," Valentina said calmly as she closed the door behind her.

Gladder laughed hoarsely. "Why should I tell you anything? Tomorrow I will burn and my life on this plane will end and then I will be united with my master, in the infernal realm."

"Because I can offer you a quick, painless death." Valentina stepped closer. "Or you can burn to death tomorrow, fully conscious. The Illuminator will make sure it lasts as long as possible, and you'll have to endure every moment of it wide awake."

Gladder eyed her attentively, weighing her up. The mad fire in his eye flickered. Despite his fanatical bravado, the prospect of dying at the stake was not a pleasant thought. "You've changed a lot. You're so much... harder now."

"Partly through your doing, I suspect."

"Ah." He leaned against the damp wall. "So you want to know why. Very well. Why not? If it earns me a quick death. The time for secrets is over anyway."

He took a deep breath. "I was like you once, you know? Young, poor, talented, inquisitive. I came to Bridgewater fifty years ago, the son of a carpenter with an unusual gift for Essence. I could think patterns that others couldn't fathom, feel currents that others didn't perceive."

His voice softened with memory. "Professor Sapolder recognized my gifts. He took me under his wing, showed me texts that opened my eyes to the true nature of Essence. Not the tame version they teach here, but the true understanding."

"The ritual of 1356," Valentina urged. "Was it really a failure?"

Gladder laughed, a hollow, rattling sound. "They told you that, didn't they? Yes, it failed. And yet no, in a way, it did not fail. It was a strategic success. We didn't manage to fully manifest Sefarax, my master. But we created a permanent connection to the infernal realm. Small, almost useless, yes, but permanent. The Illumination has never been able to close it completely. How could it? They didn't even notice it."

He leaned forward, whispering. "The connection remained, faint but persistent, hidden in the old buried crypt beneath the West Tower. It took many years, decades even, for the Illumination to stop looking for me, for me to return as a humble gardener. But since then and for many years now, I nurtured the connection, cared for it, bided my time."

"And what's all this for?" Valentina felt her stomach tighten. "What was the purpose?"

"You think I'm just a man who made a pact with a demon?" Gladder's malicious laugh chortled. "Oh child, it's so much more than that. My master himself is but a pawn of the eleven tyrants, trapped beyond the veil, still held in check by the Martyr's sacrifice. For 1400 years they have sought a way to exact revenge."

His voice was quiet now. "The Martyr's strength is waning. His refuge in hell is crumbling. And then our souls will be theirs again. I don't know if it will be 10 years, or 20, or maybe even 50, but soon, very soon, the Martyr will perish and the border between the realms will suffer a full onslaught of demonic forces, who will finally take control of the material realm and ensure that there will never be anyone like the Martyr again."

He stared at her out of his burning eye. "But they need powerful vessels on this side – bodies and minds capable of channeling them and weaving Essence with unheard of power and complexity, without breaking."

"Faustus was your foil, your whetstone," he continued. "The Eye of Deceit was meant to corrupt him from the inside, to mold you, to make you even more desperate, to give you an enemy you were willing to do anything against. That's why I gave Faustus the artifact. Not just to corrupt him, but to drive you harder, to force you to become stronger. By fighting against his corrupt hatred, your own capacity grew. And look where it got you. Into the bed of a duke, among the highest nobility. Perfectly placed when the time comes.

He chuckled. "Faustus was weak – mentally and spiritually. He was consumed by hatred and self-loathing and insecurity and envy from the very beginning. The corruption took hold too quickly, made him unstable, almost useless." He turned his penetrating gaze directly on Valentina. "But that didn't matter, because you... you were at the heart of the plan from the start. I watched you from the moment you arrived. Your natural talent, your determination, your desperation – perfect qualities. I practically dropped the book in your lap. And of course you couldn't resist. Then my master's lesser vessel interfered with your ritual."

"The black cat," whispered Valentina.

"You didn't think it was a coincidence, an accident, did you?" Gladder laughed again. "It was planned that way from the beginning. To prepare you, to change you slowly. To corrupt you. To make you ready. This plan was a failure too."

He caughed blood. "But in this matter, the failure wasn't yours, it was the demon that ended up in your head, that was a failure. Far too interested in letting you spread your legs rather than letting you spread corruption. A disgrace."

He pointed to Valentina's head with his stumps. "I can see it, you know? Your demon. Obscenely fused to your soul like a rampant tumor. But completely useless for our purposes."

He spat on the floor. "Only one more year," he muttered. "It should have been next summer, when the border is at its thinnest. With the right ritual, performed by a properly broken-in vessel, the tyrants could have extended their influence beyond the veil. Not a full manifestation – yet. But enough to reshape this part of the world significantly."

"Kill me now, girl," he finally said. "It doesn't change anything. I have already won. Soon I will be with my master. The things to come are a tide you can't stop. Whether it takes another fifty years or another five hundred – time means nothing to the tyrants."

He moved closer to her, waving his stumps. "And your demon, useless as it is, knows it too. Oh yes, the demon knows everything. Ask about the tyrants. Ask about their plans. Let's see if you get an answer."

Suddenly his eyes cleared and for a moment he appeared clear, anxious and very human. "Run, girl. Take your friends and run far away from here. When it starts, there won't be anywhere to hide, but at least you could buy yourself a few more years of peace."

Then the inhuman light returned to his eyes and he smiled one last time. "Or embrace it. Become what you were meant to be – a goddess among insects, the herald of a new age."

Valentina stared at the twisted man in front of her. Part of her wanted to wish him a slow, agonizing death for all his manipulations. But another part – the part that had once trusted the kindly old gardener – felt a strange pity.

"You kept your promise," she finally said quietly. "Now I'm keeping mine."

Gladder smiled.

Her hands trembled slightly as she wove the pattern, which was basically the same as the one she used on the guards – just with a tiny but crucial variation.

"It'll be quick," she explained matter-of-factly. "You'll hardly feel a thing."

"Better than the pyre." Gladder nodded weakly. "Do it."

This time she would not build up the pressure gently, but maximize it abruptly.

Gladder's eyes widened as the pattern took effect. For a brief moment, the madness seemed to fade from his gaze, replaced by... Clarity? Gratitude? Then, from one moment to the next, his body slumped and lay on the floor in an unnatural position, his eyes empty.

No struggle. No rattling. Not even blood. The internal bleeding would only become visible later.

Valentina staggered back, shaking uncontrollably. Nausea rose up inside her. She had just killed a man. Justified or not, it was a line irrevocably crossed, something she could never undo. She would never again not be a killer.

"Take a deep breath ," Vyxara whispered softly in her head – finally able to speak again now that Gladder was dead. "You did the right thing. And you did it very cleanly."

"I..." Valentina choked. "I just..."

"You showed mercy ," Vyxara interrupted her firmly. "And saved us from potentially being exposed. You have no way of knowing if the Illumination wouldn't have broken him, made him talk somehow. We have a lot to talk about when you're safe. But for now, concentrate. The guards will wake up again eventually."

Valentina nodded mechanically. Shaking, she searched through Gladder's rags, but found nothing of value. No clues, no hidden artifacts, nothing.

She forced herself to rest. Faustus was still waiting in his cell. And she had to hurry before someone discovered the unconscious guards or Gladder's body.

"Keep calm and steel your heart," Vyxara warned as Valentina approached the cell door. "Don't let it throw you off course."

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