Scorio followed. Everywhere he saw copies of himself, each of the same height but possessing a variety of different voices, some wailing like children, others shouting with men’s voices, some screaming, all clawing at each other as they sought to get away.
Scorio caught a glimpse of the Shadow Petal crouched neatly atop a wooden stall, blades at the ready, watching the chaos calmly.
Then they plunged into an alley, four Scorios ahead of them, three more behind, and Maron led them to the street over, into another alley, then up onto an elevated walkway that crossed a busier avenue. Down into a courtyard filled with stacked barrels, through a knife-cut of a passageway into the back of a warehouse, then around and into a meandering passageway that was less an alley and more a crooked path between the backs of houses.
“Looking good,” said B’vaari, glancing behind them. “Worked like a charm! Ha!”
“We’re not home yet,” said Maron. “C’mon.”
They filtered through backways out of Ward 6 and then instead of plunging on toward the ruins turned to hurry radially west, through the busy streets of Ward 3. They paused only so that Maron could bind Scorio’s shoulder and fashion a sling for his arm, and then continued on, only to finally turn south and enter the ruins before crossing into Ward 4.
Scorio kept his Heart Ignited, and by the time they passed into the ruins the deep wound in his shoulder had sealed over tenuously. The moment they entered the dark ruins, however, a weight lifted off his mind and he couldn’t resist a feral grin.
“It worked,” he hissed, hurrying along behind Maron. “It actually worked!”
Maron grunted, unwilling to celebrate yet, but B’vaari stepped up alongside Scorio. “Like a charm! Kraken might pack a bigger punch, but what use is it against wily folks like ourselves? You see that stupid Shadow Petal looking around like a lost child? Ha!”
“Tone it down,” muttered Maron.
“What? It’s not like saying her name will summon her. Shadow Petal, Shadow Petal, Shadow Petal—”
Scorio glanced around uneasily. “Maybe ease off, yeah?”
B’vaari laughed. “You’re both too wound up. We did it!”
Still, he subsided before both their glares. Their team made their way deeper into the ruins, and it became quickly apparent that Maron was as familiar with the shattered streets as Scorio. Together they avoided troublesome areas, picked a path through and around collapsed buildings, and eventually made their way radially east till they reached the entrance to the subterranean Basilisk lair.
“Here’s hoping Helminth got away as neatly,” murmured Maron, rubbing at his distorted features.
They descended, crossed through the caverns, and finally entered the antechamber cavern with its caramel waterfall of glistening stone. Voices came from the ship chamber beyond, and Scorio’s heart rose in fierce satisfaction as he heard Helminth speaking confidently to someone else.
“The wicked fear what the wise man knows,” called Maron huskily.
“The wise man knows nothing,” Nissa called back. “Thank the forgotten gods. Hey, they’re back!”
Scorio eschewed the ladder carved into the stone to simply leap up and with a beat of his wings land atop the petrified waterfall. Nissa eyed him, her watery blue gaze sharp.
“Looks like you didn’t get away unscathed.”
“It was the Shadow Petal,” said B’vaari eagerly as he climbed into view. “Scorio outran her, can you believe it?”
Nissa frowned. “Not really, no.”
“Well, here I am.” Scorio forced a smile and entered the cavern beyond. Everyone was standing in a tight knot beside the lantern-lit table, their faces turned toward him.
“Finally,” said Naomi. “Ravenna here won’t spill a word till you showed up.”
Ravenna stood with her hands on her hips, chin raised, her pose dominant and tense. “What can I say, I hate repeating myself. And I wouldn’t want Scorio to miss a thing.”
Scorio frowned. “You’re safe here. I know this could get you in trouble with your House, but you want out regardless, don’t you? If we work together here, we could all accomplish our goals.”
“Oh, are you worried about my safety?” Ravenna’s grin turned cruel. “How charming. You always were such a generous soul, Scorio. So eager to please, so gullible.”
Everybody froze.
“What now?” asked Nissa.
“Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate the escort. So this is where Basilisk has been hiding out all this time. How pathetic.” Ravenna sneered. “But if there’s any silver lining to this little escapade, it’s that you won’t have to live like rats any longer.”
Helminth stepped back with a snarl, “That’s not her. Everybody out!”
“Too late, Fell Whip.” Ravenna grinned. “Any moment now.”
There was a swirl in the darkness and then the point of a curved white blade emerged from Helminth’s stomach.
“Damn it,” hissed Helminth, and Scorio felt the pull of gravity around them become overwhelming, his whole body sagging just before a second black blade cleaved through Helminth’s neck, passing through it as if immaterial.
Helminth’s eyes immediately rolled up in their sockets and she fell, to reveal the Shadow Petal behind her.
Interlude - Leonis
“How did it go?” asked Lianshi.
She sat cross-legged in the corner of their suite upon a mound of cushions, her journals arrayed before her.
“As you might expect.” Leonis pushed their front door closed and sighed. “Nobody wants to confirm what’s going on, but you can’t avoid the rumors. Scorio’s arrived with a second Great Soul. Dameon, the Manticore leader, is locked up with Praximar in his study. They’re thick as thieves in there. Course I couldn’t hear anything through the door, but they were… tense.”
“Hmm.” Lianshi flipped through the pages of the journal in her lap then set it aside. “I’ve still found no mention of Scorio in these.”
Leonis crossed his arms. “And still no sign of your latest one?”
“Still missing. Or stolen.”
“I don’t know. This all has me on edge.” Leonis pushed off the door and strode over to their dining table. Took up a pitcher and drank water directly from its mouth. “I—”
“Can you not do that?”
“Hmm?” Leonis considered the pitcher. “Ah. Sorry. Too late now, though.” He sat against the table’s edge. “We’re reborn after being dead less than a year. Nobody else in our class came back so soon.”
“Yes,” said Lianshi tiredly, leaning back onto one elbow.
“We appear in the Gauntlet alone. Just the two of us. Again, unheard of. And, may I add, a huge detriment to our performance in there.”
“Mmhmm.”
“But despite that Praximar singles us out as his favorites. Which only grows stranger the more I learn. And over everything looms our past association with this Scorio character, whom everyone is forbidden from discussing on pain of expulsion.”
“He’s a Red Lister,” said Lianshi weakly.
“So we can’t even discuss him?” Leonis set the carafe aside and began pacing. “Our past selves weren’t idiots. I’m assuming. So if we chose to associate with him there had to have been a good reason.”
“I know, Leonis. I know.” Lianshi sighed. “We’ve been over this a thousand times. Do you have a new conclusion to offer?”
“No, it’s just that…” Leonis came to a stop, staring moodily toward their azure pool. “You should have seen the way this Dameon guy stared at me. Like I was a ghost. He must have known us in our past life. I’m just a Tomb Spark. What’s a Dread Blaze like him got to be afraid of?”
“He came to Bastion to escape Scorio,” said Lianshi. “I overheard Hera discussing it in the hallway. We were Scorio’s companions in our last life. Therefore—”
“Therefore we need to know what they’re hiding from us.” Leonis grimaced. “Why Praximar’s treated us like we’re royalty?”