I looked to my left.
The hallway was bleached in golden light - Arthur stood at the center, his divine energy burning around him like a miniature sun.
Ironic, I thought bitterly, considering who we're up against.
I pushed myself off the floor, wobbling as the weight of the last hour settled into my bones.
Arthur rushed over, his eyes scanning me, then flicking toward Mary.
"Your Highness," he said, voice clipped and tense. "I've been ordered to escort you out. Damian, you're with me. If either of you die tonight, it will be a devastating blow to the Empire."
His voice held the edge of command - but there was a flicker of something else too.
Relief.
For a second.
Then gunfire cracked through the air, snapping the moment in half.
"He wasn't alone, was he?" I asked, though I already knew.
Arthur's jaw clenched. His golden aura crackled.
"It happened all at once," he muttered. "People started collapsing. Gunfire from outside. Then the Heirarch vanished - left me to find you two."
He gave me a side glance, with an annoyed expression that he no longer felt the need to hide behind a smile.
"I figured you'd be involved somehow."
Well shit.
This wasn't an assassination attempt.
It was a declaration.
We're alive. We're organized. And we're capable.
I said nothing. There wasn't time for reflection. The gunshots were getting closer.
A sudden spike of pain burst behind my right eye. I winced, instinctively gripping it.
Arthur noticed. "You good?"
"Give me something to shoot with."
He didn't ask questions. From his coat, he produced a sleek black bronze revolver, a small gem set into the grip. The surface shimmered with divine light, but the chamber was empty of gunpowder - replaced by clay-like substance, the Empire's alternative.
"You remember how to use it? Its the same one you used all those years ago. Ironically, we have the same targets as back then."
I spun it once on my finger and caught it mid-air. The gem flared crimson, as I poured my Aethiris into the gemstone. I felt a certain connection to the revolver, and caressed slightly as the familiar cold met my touch.
Muscle memory. Hello Amy, remember me?
Arthur smirked. "Thought so."
He took point. "The Regent's evacuated the guests. If we're lucky, the fighting's isolated to the mansion."
I followed, flanking left. Mary trailed just behind - silent, but holding steady.
I turned and tossed her the bloody knife I'd taken earlier. Her white dress, now stained red, fluttered as she caught it in both hands.
Not the moment to hesitate.
Walking backward to cover our flank, I studied the revolver. My hands were trembling again - but not from fear. From memory.
"This is the same revolver," I said. "From the Northern Forest."
Arthur didn't turn around. "Yeah. Thought you'd want it. You were… attached."
Attached was one way to put it.
Faces. Screams. The smell of burnt ash and bone.
I bit my tongue - hard. Blood flooded my mouth. The tremors stopped.
No one saw. Good.
The last thing I need is someone checking my mental state.
My head pulsed again.
Charlotte.
Another "gift," no doubt.
The pain intensified in proximity to danger - like some twisted version of hot and cold.
At least it's keeping me alive.
"We're here."
Arthur pushed open the ornate double doors to the grand hall.
Pitch blackness.
Arthur didn't hesitate. He lifted a hand, and divine light surged outward. The fog retreated just enough to carve a glowing path to the pearly exit at the far end of the hall.
From where I stood, I saw the fog move - a thick, sludgy wall that swallowed light whole.
Arthur stepped forward.
"Your Highness, stay behind me. Damian, you're her shield now."
I grabbed Mary's hand and squeezed it tight. She said nothing. But her grip answered back.
She's not breaking yet. And I refuse to be beaten by a girl.
I gave a half-smile for reassurance - strained, tired - and faced forward. My fingers trembled around the revolver.
It's been a long time since I killed someone.
Arthur's voice cut through the silence.
"When I say run, you sprint. No matter what you hear. No matter who you see. They're not real."
We nodded.
We entered.
And immediately, the fog trembled.
Shapes twisted inside it.
Arthur slashed to his right - his blade glowed golden, slicing through the air-
-until it connected.
A butler lunged from the fog. Arthur's blade split him cleanly in half, from his head to his pelvis. Blood sprayed the corridor. The fog swallowed the corpse whole.
Arthur glanced back. "RUN!"
We sprinted.
Gunfire echoed outside.
The fog closed in.
Then - I saw it.
Afterimages.
The fog pulsed with flickering motion. People. Lurking. Lunging. Crawling.
A man tried to grab my ankle. Bald. Wrinkled. Slow.
One bullet to the head. His body crumpled.
Another man dove at me from the left. Knife flashing.
Too slow.
I kicked his face mid-lunge, fired into his gut. He hit the floor hard.
Charlotte's eyes… they're beyond belief.
Arthur, just ahead, moved like a divine storm. Three. Four. Five bodies charged him - he cut them down in seconds.
Then I spotted her.
A maid.
Holding a rifle.
She raised it - toward me, while hiding in the fog.
But the afterimage told me she'd shoot Mary.
I didn't wait.
BANG.
She collapsed before she could even lift it. Blood sprayed the fog, yet I saw none of it, my full faith being in Charlotte's eyes.
Three bullets left.
Another two came - no weapons, just hands. One dove low to grab my legs. I shot him mid-air.
The other lunged for my throat.
Too close.
I blocked with my arm
He bit down on my forearm - I grimaced in pain, threw him forward, and shot him in the back.
One bullet.
The doors were just ahead. Arthur was holding the final stretch, golden blade flashing.
Then-
A pistol emerged from the fog. Aimed at Mary.
I didn't hesitate.
BANG.
He collapsed.
Shit, I'm empty-!
But I missed the second one.
A child.
Lunging at me.
No time. No bullets.
Then-
A black spike tore through the fog, impaling him mid-air.
The fog parted. I saw him clearly.
A boy. Dressed like a butler. Barefoot.
My hair. My face.
His eyes… empty white.
And mine?
My left eye was normal, wide in shock. While the right...
Was dyed in a grotesque pitch black.
The fog dissipated from my eyes.
The spike vanished.
The boy fell.
I'm sorry.
I didn't look back.
I grabbed Mary and dove through the doors.
Into the light.
We had escaped.