“Then I grow all the more curious. I have before me a talented, improbably successful Cinder who clearly yearns for greatness. Yet you hesitate to the point of placing your sponsorship in jeopardy.” Gelegos paused, considering him. “Something has happened since last we spoke. A previous obligation? A debt that you must repay?”
“Something like that,” said Scorio, and the tangled knot in his heart undid itself, and he looked up at last to meet the recruiter’s eyes. “But I can’t accept the sponsorship. I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”
“Yes, I thought you might.” Gelegos’s bemused smile didn’t quite touch his pale eyes, which studied Scorio thoughtfully. “May I ask why? Selena will tear my head off if I don’t.”
“I… you know that I spent some time in the ruins before being accepted back into the Academy,” began Scorio. Gelegos nodded, so he continued. “During that time, I briefly joined a criminal organization that targeted shipments coming into Bastion. I helped them with one job. I helped them steal a small crate containing Sapphire mana from House Chimera. House guards were injured in our escape, and I’ve since learned that some of them may have died.”
Scorio stared with bleak fear at the affable recruiter, who had gone perfectly still.
“I can only apologize,” he continued, dropping his gaze. “I won’t make excuses for my deed, but I also cannot accept House Chimera’s sponsorship. I’m sorry.”
“I… see.” Gelegos’s tone had become pensive. “I remember that raid. It was audacious as it was sloppy. Notable for being led by a rogue Great Soul who used various treasures to avoid pursuit.”
Scorio gripped his hands together even tighter. “I of course understand if you wish to press charges, and won’t lie to protect myself.”
The silence between them drew out, long and aching, and Scorio felt his brow prickle with sweat. He couldn’t look up, however. Just sat there, feeling miserable yet also lighter, as if a huge burden had at last fallen from his shoulders.
“I admire your honesty, Scorio, even if it clashes rather violently with your past behaviors. And in truth, I suspected the Great Soul in question was you. The time frame was just right, and the criminal’s description roughly matched your own.”
“You did?” Scorio’s gaze flicked up. “And you still made the offer?”
Gelegos’s smile grew pained. “We suspected, but deliberately did not make concrete inquiries, because as long as we had no proof, we could proceed with recruiting you. Now, however, with this confession, we have no choice but to withdraw our offer.”
“Wait,” said Scorio. “You thought it was me, but were still willing to offer your patronage?”
“Life is complicated,” said Gelegos. “But here is how I saw it: you were alone, confused, and ignorant. A man’s greatest instinct is survival, and with your being thrust through the Final Door within minutes of reincarnating, who is to fault you for doing what you could to survive? Now, if you had remained part of that criminal organization, had found it to your liking, that would be a different matter, but I found it particularly noteworthy that you only took part in one raid. After that, you went to ground. Had you died? Escaped to the Plains? I didn’t know. But the next we heard of you was when you helped save all of Bastion from Imogen the Woe. Quite the about-face, wouldn’t you say? You then proceeded to prove yourself competitive against your cohort, all of whom had benefited from elite training and resources from which you’d been deprived. I found it very impressive.”
Scorio gaped at the man. “Is that how Selena sees it? Wrack?”
“No. That is my own view, and why I held my tongue. They will be far less charitable than I. So, alas, we are done.”
“Yeah,” said Scorio, and realized that they were. Just like that, House Chimera’s invitation had evaporated in his hands. It was gone. He’d never get the Apotheosis pills, the Peaceful Wheel, and Thousand Step pills. All that healing, all those resources, the private classes, the confidential instruction, all… gone.
“Look, for what it’s worth, I think even better of you than I did before,” said Gelegos. “Which, unfortunately, is worth next to nothing. But you have a tremendous Heart, Scorio. If you don’t destroy it in your quest for power, it will take you far. It’s incredibly reactive, naturally deep, and has withstood the punishment you’ve given it thus far. I can’t guess what your plans are, but I will tell you this: whatever your gamble, make sure part of the payoff includes the ability to heal back the damage you’re about to do to yourself.”
Scorio blinked. “You’re not going to tell me to be careful?”
“You?” Gelegos chuckled and sat back. “Knowing your past, and having made discrete inquiries into your deeper history? Not at all. Would be a waste of my breath. But just as you wagered everything on impressing House Chimera so that we would heal your damage, make sure your next bet is as savvy.”
“Understood,” said Scorio, rising to his feet. “Will you please give the others my apologies and regrets?”
“Sure,” said Gelegos, standing as well. “Good luck, Scorio.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated, then turned and strode out of the large room, past the fountains and altars, the secluded meditation spots, and the communal table at whose length he would never now sit.
Out the double doors, and there to lean against the hallway corridor as the strength momentarily left him.
Scorio closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It felt as if he couldn’t get enough air. But, after a few moments, he mastered himself and pushed back to standing.
Praximar no longer had any leverage on him. He’d lost House Chimera, true, but the playing field was now even.
It was on him to figure out his next step, and a way to defeat Jova Spike in the final Gauntlet run.
Too bad he couldn’t think of a single thing.
Interlude - Naomi
Naomi sat in the corner, her brow pressed tightly against her forearms, her eyes screwed shut, her whole body shuddering.
She didn’t want to think. Didn’t want the thoughts, the memories, the emotions that refused to leave her alone. Running didn’t help. Fighting and killing fiends only gave her a moment’s fierce release. No matter what she did, the emotions came back, the images, the words, hunting her down like hell’s most consummate predator.
She gritted her teeth and ground her face into her knees. Only in sleep did she find oblivion, and then all too often she’d awaken from dreams she could barely remember, body drenched in sweat, gasping and crying out for someone, anyone, to help her.
But she was all alone.
All alone but for the Nightmare Lady, hidden deep within her soul.
With a cry of helpless rage, she slammed the base of her fist against the wall, and the flare of pain was welcome, a fierce jolt against the smothering despair. She paused, and the old temptation arose, that rapid and simple form of release.
No. She’d stopped doing that. Had sworn she’d never do it again.
But the Nightmare Lady stirred, ignoring her empty words, and against her will, she shifted, allowed the darkness within her to break free. Her body stretched, grew strong, her senses sharper, and her tail extruded itself from the base of her spine to waft out into the air.
She stared at her black talons and hissed. How she loathed this body. This horrific form. But how perfect it was, how perfect a reflection of both the cruelties of the world and her own twisted sense of self.
The Nightmare Lady.
Her truest self.
The great triangular blade of her tail curved around, gentle, questing, until its wicked tip was poised above her arm.
She could feel it questioning her, seeking but the slightest hint of acquiescence. How good it would feel, she heard the Nightmare Lady whisper, a delicate touch, then the spasm, a surge of emotion, a splash of color in the dark.