Chapter 28: The Home I Once Knew (Patreon)

As Adalinda and I stepped outside, the sun caught my eye and blinded me. I had been in the dark too long, and it would take some time to get used to the brightness again. Shading my eyes, I looked around.

Now that it was morning, the streets were bustling with people again. Mothers pulled children along, laborers headed to work, and guards patrolled the streets. It felt… normal. Surreally so.

“Ada, you better unmanifest,” I said, glancing at my companion. “The streets are too busy. Someone is bound to notice you eventually.”

“Don’t you need to read the ability tome? I’ll watch your back while you do.”

“Alright,” I agreed. After last night’s misadventures, I wasn’t feeling particularly trusting of other people and could do with my companion’s comforting presence a while longer.

“Should we head back to the abandoned building?” Adalinda asked.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Those people might come back.”

“Unlikely,” she argued. “If they were going to return, they would have by now.”

Reluctantly, I conceded she had a point. The abandoned building would also give us some much-needed privacy and a chance to regroup before we returned to the Raccoons. Still, I didn’t like the idea of going back there. It was risky.

“El?”

“Very well.” Setting aside my misgivings, I made my way back to the building where I had so recently been held captive. I came to a halt in front of the broken-down door and listened for movement, some sign that someone lurked in ambush within, but heard nothing.

“It looks clear,” Adalinda declared after a moment.

I didn’t budge.

A pause. “Shall we?” she prompted.

“I’m scared,” I confessed.

Drawing closer, my companion curled herself around my right leg. “It’ll be okay. If anyone is waiting for us, they’ll be in for a shock this time. They won’t catch us by surprise again, I promise.”

I believed her. And really, after having come this far, there was no point in delaying further. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and walked into the unhappily familiar surroundings.

The room was unchanged.

The chair was still knocked over from when I’d used it to lift myself up, and the many pools of blood dotting the floor, though dried, remained unmarred by footprints.

No one has been here since, I thought, my shoulders sagging in relief. It’s safe. Banishing ugly memories, I picked up the chair and dragged it to the brightest spot in the room and sat down. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Go ahead, read your book. I’ll keep watch,” Adalinda replied.

Drawing out the items from the bag Tommin had given me, I set them on my lap and inspected each in turn.

The target items are: a witch armor ability tome, 3 x full healing potions, 3 x moderate healing potions, and 2 x darkvision potions.

The potions would undoubtedly come in handy in the future, but it was the ability tome I was most curious about. Storing away the sloshing vials, I opened the thick book and began to read.

You have gained the basic spell: witch armor. This is a touch-based ability that encases you in protective light and provides an effective physical damage reduction of 10%. At tier one, the witch armor spell will mitigate a maximum of 2 attacks before dissipating.

This spell has a verbal component. Its activation time is average, it consumes mana and can be upgraded. You have 5 of 7 Faith ability slots remaining.

“There you go.” Smiling, I glanced at my companion. “I finally have a defensive ability.” Ten percent damage reduction was nothing to shout about, but as the spell advanced, so too, would its benefits.

“You’re getting more comfortable with the Game,” Adalinda observed.

I raised one eyebrow in surprise.

“There was a time—not so long ago—when you would have sought my advice before deciding anything,” she said, correctly interpreting my look. “Soon, you won’t need me at all.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know about that.” Still, the celestial was right. After our recent successes, I realized that not only was I more confident in my own abilities, I had also become more comfortable in navigating my own path through the Game. Where initially everything had seemed arcane and unknowable, now…

… now, things were beginning to make sense.

Moreso, I got the distinct impression I had potential to become a formidable player. Whether as a result of my Class, my companion, the skills I had acquired, or my own choices, there seemed no limit to how much power I could acquire.

And with power came opportunity.

I can change things, I realized. Not just for players, but those they disdained too—people like Alon and Soren, the poor, the hungry, and the downtrodden of Mesina.

Us proles.

“We will reshape the world one day,” Adalinda predicted, seeming to sense the direction of my thoughts.

I threw her a lopsided grin. “Perhaps. But we have a way to go yet.”

But only a second later, my smile faded. Not everything about the Game was good. Far from it. Hard on the heels of this thought, some of last night’s unpleasant memories resurfaced.

“What do you think all that nonsense about my bloodline was about?” I wondered aloud. “Our captors from last night seemed to place great stock in it.” It was such an odd thing to raise, especially amongst everything else that the word had stuck with me. I threw Adalinda a bewildered look. “What can it matter who I’m descended from?”

Adalinda tilted her head, considering the question for so long I thought she wouldn’t answer. “I wish there was something I could tell you, El,” she replied finally. “But I don’t know the reason for their interest.”

I slumped in disappointment.

“Although…” She paused. “There is something about that word. It feels… familiar.”

I stared at her. “What word? ‘Bloodline?’ You’ve heard the term before?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps. Maybe.” She snapped her jaws in frustration. “It’s as if I know the term or ought to know it. Understanding sits at the edge of my mind, so close I can almost grasp it. Yet it remains out of reach. Whatever the significance of your bloodlines, I believe I knew what it was—once.” She sighed. “But no longer.”

I patted her head soothingly. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I know this much, though. Your bloodline is important. In fact, it’s probably the single most important thing about you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed.

Adalinda stayed silent.

“Isn’t it?” I pressed.

Still, the familiar said nothing.

“How can you know that and not know what the word means?” I demanded, getting annoyed. “And what am I supposed do to with this information. Yay, my bloodline is important. So what?”

Adalinda hung her head. “I’m sorry, El. I don’t have the answers. My memories are incomplete. I am not what I once was.” I felt keenly the pang of sorrow and loss that went through her at the thought. “Now, all I have to guide you with are my… instincts.”

I bowed my head, weighed down by the vast store of things I still didn’t know about myself and guilt—I shouldn’t have snapped at her, I knew.

“I’m sorry, El.” Adalinda repeated.

“As am I,” I said softly. “It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

The secrets about me kept piling higher, and I had no idea where to turn to for answers. But I was determined to get them—somehow. I rose to my feet. “Alright, let’s get going. We’re not going to learn anything more sitting here.”

Nodding in wordless agreement, Adalinda let the weaves of herself unravel.

Adalinda has cast unmanifest.

Pivoting around in a slow circle, I studied the room one last time.

Despite everything our enemies had done to us here, we’d endured. We’d survived. More than survived, even. We’d grown stronger. And despite the many answers, still eluding me, I felt… capable. Capable of taking on the Devils and putting an end to them once and for all.

Striding out the door, I headed back toward the sewers.

✵ ✵ ✵

The trip back was uneventful.

Using the darkvision potions I’d bought from Tommin and making sure to stay on the marked paths, I passed through the sewer without needing to call on Adalinda or my abilities.

Exiting the sewer, I pulled myself back into the basement above. I was in the poor quarter once more, and despite everything I knew awaiting me, it felt good to be back.

This is home, I thought. It will always be home.

Turning around, I oriented myself. The Raccoons’ base was not far, and I wasted no time retracing my steps to it. Alon and Soren were probably sick with worry, and I could only hope they hadn’t done anything rash.

Eoman would’ve stopped them, I consoled myself. The Raccoon leader seemed to have a cool head on his shoulders.

Thinking of the Raccoon leader, made me recall my captors again, and I wondered if he would be able to tell me anything about them. Every gang leader in the poor quarter—even one such as Eoman—kept a finger on the pulse of the city’s underlife, because if there was one export the poor quarter was known for, it was its criminals: thieves, thugs, murderers, and kidnappers.

Perhaps I should ask him.

My captors had not gone to any great lengths to hide their identity, and more than once, their questions had hinted at some association with the goddess, but I found that hard to credit. Someone in the poor quarter had to know who they were. I’ll ask Eoman, I decided.

In short order, I drew up to the Raccoon base. The surrounding area was as tranquil as it ever got in the poor quarter, and I had no reason to suspect anything amiss.

Right up until I noticed the door to the base was unguarded.

Strange, I thought, my steps slowing. Where’s Vigil? And how do I get inside without a key? My gaze flitting in all directions at once, I strode up to the steps leading to the main gate and pushed.

It creaked open.

My heartbeat quickened, and if I had hackles, they would be raised in protest right about now. As it was, my instincts were screaming at me. Something was wrong. There was no way the Raccoons would leave the entrance to their base unguarded—not by choice. Eoman was too careful for that.

I considered my options. Flee. Enter. Get help.

Ordinarily, I would’ve gone with option one—but Soren and Alon were inside, and I wouldn’t abandon them—and failing that, option three—but in my current predicament, there was no one I could turn to for help.

Option two it was.

Better to do this fast, I thought. Bursting into motion, I rushed through the gate, hoping to catch any potential ambushers off guard.

No one jumped out.

No one attacked.

I was alone in the corridor. Behind me, the gate creaked close. Slowing to a stop, I listened.

Only silence greeted me. The base appeared deserted.

“Something doesn’t smell right,” Adalinda whispered. “There’s danger here.”

I agreed wholeheartedly. Drawing my dagger, I dropped into a crouch and advanced further down the corridor. The eerie silence remained unbroken. “Creepy,” I muttered.

“Should I manifest?” Adalinda asked.

I hesitated. “No,” I said finally. “Let’s not assume the worst.” Although, I was finding that hard not to do so myself. “Better we do this slowly.” And carefully. “And besides, anything or anyone capable of taking down the entire base is not going to have any trouble dealing with us—whether or not you are at my side.”

Adalinda didn’t reply, but I sensed her reluctant agreement.

I made it all the way to the room where we’d met Eoman without incident. Coming to a halt, I studied the door. It was closed, but light peeked through from beneath. Someone could be inside.

I tried the handle.

It turned easily, which meant the door was open.

“Right, here goes.” Tightening my hand around the hilt of my blade, I inched the door open and peered within.

Mentally, I thought myself prepared for anything. An empty room. Dead bodies. An ambush. Soren and Alon captured. Anything.

The sight that greeted me was altogether different: Celeste sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. She looked the picture of defeat and was quite clearly alone.

“Celeste!” I exclaimed, barging into the room. “What’s happened? Where’s everyone?”

Eoman’s partner glanced up despondently. Her eyes were red, and her makeup was smudged. She had been crying. A moment later, her eyes widened in recognition. “Oh my god. Elana. It’s you! You’re alive!”

Jerking haltingly to her feet, the silver-haired woman pulled me into a hug. Trapped in her arms, I patted her back awkwardly. To say I was surprised by her greeting was an understatement. I hardly knew her, after all. What’s prompted this?

“What’s happened, Celeste?” I repeated softly.

“The Devils,” Celeste half-sobbed. “The Devils happened.” Stepping back, she dabbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she laughed unsteadily. “I’m a wreck, I know.”

Reaching out, I squeezed her arms in comfort. I was anxious to find out what had happened, but the state Eoman’s partner was in, I knew I couldn’t rush her.

Celeste calmed under my touch. “Right after you left,” she began haltingly, “the Devils invaded, crossing into our territory through the east junkyard.” Her eyes darted to mine. “You know it?”

Nodding curtly, I bit my tongue to keep from hurrying her on.

“Eoman and the others went to stop them,” Celeste continued, smiling brittlely at my response. “But Cantos’ warband was larger than we anticipated, and he had outside help too.” She shuddered. “They were overrun.”

I paled, fearing the worst. “Then what?”

Her gaze faraway, Celeste didn’t respond.

I shook her—hard. “Tell me! Please. Are Eoman and the others dead?” Were Soren and Alon too?

The silver-haired woman’s gaze cleared, and she refocused on me. “No… not everyone died. Some survived.”

Some part of my panic must have penetrated Celeste’s distress, because she reached out and squeezed my arm gently, mimicking my earlier gesture. “Don’t fear, dear. Soren and Alon were alive the last I heard, as was Eoman.”

I drew in a trembling breath. “That’s… good.” I gestured at the empty base all around us. “So where is everyone?”

Terror flashed across Celeste’s face. Her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. I had no idea what it was about my question that had sparked such fear in the older woman, but I knew she was only moments from breaking.

But Celeste had greater inner strength than I credited her with.

Drawing in a trembling breath, she squeezed her eyes shut, and only a moment later opened them again, her face settling into a semblance of control.

“After his forces were overrun,” Celeste went on as if nothing had happened, “Eoman tried to draw the Devils away, thinking to spare those that remained at the base. But…” She licked her lips. “But not all of Cantos’ thugs took the bait. Some… Some c-came here anyway and… they…”

Celeste fell silent again, and this time, despite her resolve, she wasn’t able to go on.

It took me a moment—a stupidly long moment—to get what she was trying to say. Studying the older woman anew, I noticed details I’d previously missed.

Her torn dress. Missing shoes. Bruised arms. And the livid red marks marring her neck that could only be handprints.

Fury tore through me. My face grew hot, and my hands trembled with rage as the realization of the vile fate Celeste had suffered hit me. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Maybe Alon had been right all along. Maybe it was past time someone scoured Mesina clean of the Devils’ scourge.

Celeste choked off a sob, nearly undone by the naked empathy in my voice. Drawing me closer, she clung to me.

And I let her—for a minute, then I drew back.

The danger to Celeste and the others in the base had passed. She had survived. But others might not. And as much as it pained me to do otherwise, I couldn’t stay to comfort her.

Others needed me.

Others like Soren and Alon who could still be in danger. “Celeste,” I whispered, “where are the rest of the Racoons?”

The older woman pulled herself together once more. She, too, understood the harsh realities of life in the poor quarter. Survival came first. Always survival. “Eoman took them to the old council hall.” She shook her head sadly. “The Raccoons will make their last stand there.”

My fear returned. “When was this?”

“Not long. An hour ago, perhaps.”

I breathed easier. Then, there was still hope.

Hugging Celeste one last time, I untangled myself from her and placed a vial in her hands. “Take this,” I said, closing her fingers around the healing potion. “It will help you recover… physically, anyway. Get out of here and find somewhere safe to hide.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “About Eoman—”

“I’ll do my best to help him and any others I find,” I interjected. And don’t worry, I won’t tell him anything.” I paused. “Unless you want me to?”

She shook her head. “I’ll tell him myself. When the time is right.”

Nodding sharply, I spun on my heel and dashed out of the room with one thought foremost in my mind.

I had to find Alon and Soren.