Chapter 22: His Mask Crumbles

The city was disgusting.

Or at least, that’s how Lucian felt it in that moment.

Around him, people shouted, bought stuff and laughed as if nothing had happened, but his head was still trapped in the darkness of the Crypt, repeating in a loop the image of Seraphina and that rotten magic.

The sun shone too bright, the noise of the vendors drilled into his eardrums and he felt like he was going to vomit at any moment.

He looked sideways at Raziel every two seconds because he didn’t know who the hell his partner was anymore.

’That golden power? That voice that sounded like a pissed-off god? That wasn’t normal.’

“This is a nightmare,”

Lucian murmured, eyes bloodshot, scanning every corner as if he expected an Inquisitor or a living dead to jump on them.

“They have to be following us.”

Raziel heard him but kept his mouth shut.

Inside, his mind was going a thousand miles per hour, calculating variables.

’Status: Fucked. Thorne’s Suspicion Level: High. Lucian’s Mental Stability: Critical.’

He couldn’t comfort him because anything he said would sound fake, so he let Odessa take the lead.

The paladin guided them through a labyrinth of dirty alleys, taking them away from the main avenues to avoid curious gazes.

Suddenly, Lucian crashed against a huge merchant carrying a basket of fruit.

BAM!

Apples rolled over the dirty cobblestones.

“Watch where you’re going, brat!” the guy yelled at him, spitting almost in his face.

Lucian shrank back, stammering an apology while he felt his face burn with shame.

He felt small and useless.

Odessa stopped dead when they reached a dead-end street, where the noise of the market was just a buzz.

She turned to them, and although she tried to look tough, Raziel noticed the tremor in her hands.

“I have to go back,” she said.

“If I don’t present myself to the Inquisitors right now, they will come to hunt us. I need to control the narrative before Thorne does.”

Lucian’s blood froze.

“The Inquisitors?” his voice broke. “Are you going to leave us alone?”

Odessa squeezed his shoulder hard, almost with desperation.

“It’s the only way, Lucian. Trust me.”

Her gaze jumped to Raziel, a heavy look that said: ’I know you are hiding something, but right now you are the only thing that can protect him’.

Without saying more, the paladin turned around and left, her cape flapping as she headed towards the wolf’s mouth.

“Let’s go,” Raziel said, breaking the awkward silence. “Standing here is asking to get killed.”

They walked until they found a seedy hostel in the slums.

It was a building that seemed about to collapse, with rotten wood and dirty windows, but it was perfect because nobody asked questions in a place like that.

They entered the room and silence fell on them like a slab.

Lucian couldn’t take it anymore.

He started pacing from one side to the other, running his hands through his hair as if he wanted to rip it out.

“I can’t deal with this!” he exploded, kicking a chair.

“Seraphina is a damn necromancer! We almost died! And you…!” He turned to Raziel, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“You did something down there! You glowed, Raziel! I saw that light! That is not novice magic!”

Raziel sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dirty floor.

“Lucian, listen-”

“No! No cheap excuses!” Lucian cut him off, breathing heavily.

“What are you? Since when can you do that?”

“It’s not that simple,” Raziel replied.

Lucian let out a nervous laugh, almost hysterical.

“To hell with this! I need air. If I stay here I’m going to punch you.”

And without waiting for an answer, he left slamming the door, making the paper walls of the hostel shake.

***

Night had fallen and the cold air from the river hit Lucian’s face, but not even that managed to calm the chaos in his head.

He approached the shore, crouching to wash his face with the freezing water, scrubbing his skin hard because he still felt the filth of the crypt stuck to him.

“Destiny is a cruel bitch, right, kid?”

Lucian jumped up, heart racing, and turned around.

There was an old man standing there.

He looked like a hobo, with clothes in tatters and a dirty white beard, but his eyes shone with a terrifying lucidity.

“Who are you?” Lucian asked, trying to sound brave, although his knees were shaking.

The old man let out a dry chuckle.

“I see the threads, Lord Lucian. I see how they tangle around your neck.”

“How do you know my name?” Lucian took a step back, looking for a rock or a stick, anything to defend himself.

“I know many things. I know your friend is not what he seems,” the old man whispered, leaning forward. “Knowledge has a price, kid, and you are about to pay the first installment.”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything!” Lucian shouted, more out of fear than rage.

“The truth is going to destroy you, but it will make you free… or it will kill you.” The old man took a step back, melting into the shadows of the alley as if he were a ghost.

“Be careful with what you wish to know.”

When Lucian blinked, the old man was gone.

Only the sound of the river and his own ragged breathing remained.

“Damn it… I’m going crazy,” he muttered, touching his forehead. He was burning up.

He ran back to the hostel, feeling like the shadows were stretching to grab him.

He needed answers.

He opened the room door with a bang. Raziel was still there, motionless, like a statue in the middle of the disaster.

“Lucian, I…” Raziel started.

“Shut up and talk,” Lucian interrupted him, locking the door and dragging a chair to sit in front of him.

“I don’t buy your lies anymore. Tell me the truth now.”

Raziel looked him in the eyes.

If he didn’t give him something now, he would lose Lucian forever, and he needed allies.

“The truth…” Raziel sighed, choosing his words carefully, like someone defusing a bomb. “The truth is that I have seen this before.”

Lucian frowned. “Seen what?”

“Everything.” Raziel leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I have memories. Visions of a life that shouldn’t exist. I know things that are going to happen, Lucian, and if we don’t do something, we are all going to die again.”

Lucian’s eyes widened like plates.

The revelation was madness, it sounded like a delirium, but it explained everything.

Raziel’s anticipation, his change of personality, the strange power.

“Are you saying… that you come from the future?” Lucian whispered, in disbelief. “That the Church… everything is rotten?”

“It’s worse than that,” Raziel said, gloomy. “This is just the beginning, Lucian, the real hell is barely start…”

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

Three dry, authoritative and heavy blows on the wooden door.

Both froze.

’Too soon, they shouldn’t have found us so fast.’

Lucian stood up slowly, trembling, and approached the door.

“Who is it?”

When he opened, a tall figure blocked the light of the corridor.

He was wearing the black and red robes that everyone feared.

It wasn’t a simple guard.

“Novices Raziel Celeste and Lucian Valerius Nyxian,” the figure said with a voice that sounded like a death sentence.

“By order of the High Inquisitor you are under arrest.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep