Chapter 53

Shadow in the Light (II)

“He chewed and chewed, the crackling of the bones energizing; ah, the sensations. I wish to return…”

Veiled Eyes, Vol. III

In the flash of the scream that pierced the sky, all eyes were drawn toward her – in that solitary moment, Noah used as many lumps as he could, as much Dark as he could muster, to clout himself and vanished backward as quickly as he could.

“MY LADY!!”

“LADY SYLENE!!”

“THAT BASTARD!!

Shouts echoed out immediately after behind him as he ducked into the set of alleyways, sprinting away as quickly as his legs would carry him. Even in the madness, he maintained a calm heart and rapidly calculated his route. Now that he was alone, there was no need to go through the tunnels – he didn’t even have to leave as his identity was entirely unknown, but he couldn’t say whether they’d have the ability to recognize him some other way, perhaps through a trace of Light or something.

He could, however, pick any of the many routes out of the fort, and he settled on the main gate, as the most obvious place is usually the least expected. After all, they’d never expect him to storm the main gates of the fort after having just shoved a dagger into the Duchess’ eye. Rather than the grotesque scene, he was more inspired by the Dark and its newfound utility; it was far more than he suspected, just like the Light from his initial probing versus when he actually learned more about it. Depths and layers existed, numerous at that, and he was barely scratching the surface.

Meanwhile, the scene that he had just left was beyond chaotic; dozens of guards hounded Sylene who had collapsed onto her knees, her healthy eye dripping with tears of pain, her teeth grinding together, preventing another scream from leaving her. It was painful – it was the most painful thing she had ever experienced in her life, and she'd given birth to three children. It was a different sort of pain, equally mental as physical; one side of the world, within a flash, had turned dark, shadowed, invisible. The piercing pain turned into a blistering ache, with the dull one sitting in the background.

She could still feel it, the now-warming blade in her skull; she could not, however, describe the sensation. Rather, she didn’t want to describe it. Her mind had completely lost the focus, and the lights from well above the fort vanished, turning the widespread city entirely dark once again.

“CALL THE PHYSICIANS!!” she picked up on a familiar voice amidst the panicked chaos, Pyrt. Hoarse and aged, she heard the rare trace of anxiety and fear in him and felt the pair of shaky hands clasp at her back, steadying her, as his aged face came into her view. Wrinkled, bald, blue-eyed – years have drained him, yet, in her eyes – or eye, right now – he remained as dazzling as the day he won the Guardian Arena, splitting open the head of Converl, her first fiancé. “M-My Lady… you… I… I am terribly sorry… I…”

“Feed me the Light,” she stumbled words through her teeth, trying her best to appear as calm as possible. “My organs… they are starting to shut down…”

“Y-yes! At once!!” he replied anxiously, opening up his right hand and pressing the palm directly at in-between her breasts, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. A moment later, a stream of warmth was shuffled through her chest into her soul, rejuvenating her. She could never understand how, even at this age, his Light was so fervent and surging, as though he was still a hotheaded twenty-something. Neither of the two were Internalizers so the Light’s healing capacity was extremely limited, but as the quick aid in the life-or-death situations, it could still buy a few minutes.

“… he… escaped? Didn’t he?” she asked as the pain decreased slowly. Breathing was easier, and her mind had begun calming down, though it was merely just averting its attention. The danger to her life was still very much real. From the chaos, she could tell that at least ten guards were sent all over the fort to drag any and all Physicians here.

“… y-yes… I deserve to die for it,” Pyrt said, lowering his head. "At that moment… in that single moment…"

“… you didn’t sense the dagger either?”

“… no.”

“…” Sylene sunk into a brief silence, regretting. She had miscalculated; it wouldn't have been hard to make up a believable story in regards to Sunnder’s death, as he was not very much liked among either the Nobles or the commoners, but it will be incredibly hard, if not outright impossible, to ever reconcile with that man. She had set out a hound against her family’s crest, all due to her own missed perception.

“He was completely surrounded…” Pyrt continued in a low tone, ensuring only she heard him. “Yet… he knew. I don’t know how I know that… but he knew, Lady. He knew what would happen.”

“…”

“I am ashamed to say even if the time was rewound… I would fail to match him…”

“… the dagger was aimed at me, and even I missed it, Pyrt,” Sylene said. “It felt like it was not even there… and then, it was. Right in front of my eye. The length wasn’t even that of a flash. I made a terrible mistake, Pyrt.”

“We’ll find him, My Lady – I promise! We’ll have his head!”

“What we’ll have is a line of corpses, Pyrt,” Sylene sighed. “We can’t tackle this directly. No… we never should have tackled this directly.”

“… what do I need to do, then?” Pyrt asked.

“Though it will do little good, spread his name publicly and put out a bounty; also relegate all information about him to other Houses and the Royals.”

“My Lady—”

“We can’t be the only unsettled here,” she explained. “It should occupy them for a few months it will take me to heal.”

“… yes.”

"On the down low," she took a deep breath, wondering whether she'd just made another miscalculation that would come to bite her back at a later date. "Try and contact the Sworn."

“M-My Lady… that…” Pyrt’s anxiousness returned as he glanced at her fearfully; even he, she mused, feared the name alone.

“They’ll take the case,” she said. “It will intrigue them too much. If you want to kill a shadow… invite one even darker than it to track it down. Offer no more than a million crowns and a single Artefact.”

“… yes, my Lady.” Pyrt nodded, once again keeping his head low, his complexion growing pale. He was running low as well, she realized, barely managing to lift her arm and grip his wrist, pulling it away, much to his shock. “W-what are you—”

“I can hear them coming with the Physicians,” she said. “You’ve done enough, Pyrt. Do everything I told you while I’m comatose; by the time I awake, I expect the gears to be in place. Hold off on burying Sunnder; it would be improper for me not to be there. I’m going now, Pyrt. Good luck.”

Not a breath later, she closed her eyes, consciously drifting off. The wall surrounding her parted on one end as a disheveled-looking, elderly man came prancing in the arms of two stalwart guards, complaining. His voice, however, shut down once he saw the scene; the revered Lady Sylene, the Duchess herself, the Light of the Light, lay still in the arms of an old man, a strange dagger embedded entirely into her skull.

Physician Etyrel had never seen a scene quite like this one – perhaps he’d seen some that were far more gnarly, but he had never seen a living man or a woman with a whole dagger sticking out of their skulls. He came to a halt as the wall of guards behind him closed up; now, he was even angrier for them dragging him here than before. What the fuck are you expecting me to do, you idiots?!! She’s got a fucking dagger in her skull!

Keeping his thoughts to himself, he crouched down in front of her, inspecting her closely. All the way up to the handle, the chaos turned eerily silent as they observed him observing, pressure on his shoulders increasing tremendously. Luckily it hit on a downward trajectory, so it most-likely missed the brain. They stopped the bleeding with the Light, but she still lost a considerable amount…

“… Master Etyrel, what do you think?” the man holding her asked after nearly a minute of dreadful silence, pulling the Physician’s attention away from Sylene.

“You need an Internalizer.” Etyrel chose to be honest, whatever little goodwill that would buy him. “Or she will die.”

“… h-how long?” Pyrt asked, gritting his teeth. Only a single person in the entire Kingdom had direct access to an Internalizer – and that was the King himself. As for the rest? They had to bleed crowns and artifacts and still most-likely get rejected.

“… it would be different if she were younger,” Etyrel said, sighing. "But her body is incapable of healing naturally, I'm afraid. If I remove the dagger, even with the support of the Light, she would bleed out in minutes. Despite the dagger most-likely missing her brain, traction could have caused some damage regardless and could lead to swelling or brain-bleeding. Furthermore, infection if the dagger is not removed is guaranteed and no matter what herbs I apply, it wouldn't matter. That will spell certain death."

“… h-how long?!” Pyrt asked again, gritting his teeth further.

“… hours? At best a couple of days,” Etyrel said with a shaky tone. “And that’s taking into the account that she has a constant supply of Light.”

“Y-you… you expect me to find an Internalizer in two days at best?!!” he barely managed to keep his voice low so it doesn’t leak out, though his anger and frustration were visible on his distorted expression.

“… spread the word and pray,” the Physician said. “They are quite queer, the Internalizers. The case might interest one well enough to come. For now, we should take her inside so I can at least dress up the wound lightly as to slow down the infection. The rest… is in the hands of Light.”