A peculiar sensation pulled me back to consciousness, but something felt off. I blinked, trying to make sense of my surroundings, only to realize I was seeing through someone else's eyes again within a dream.
My own senses were locked and I couldn't effect what I was seeing.
Through a circular window, the vast expanse of water greeted my vision, the gentle rocking of the boat beneath me.
I tried to focus on the details outside—the churning waves, the distant horizon—but it was the dark, rolling fog that caught my attention. It loomed ominously, an impenetrable wall of grey and black.
The eyes I inhabited turned downward slowly, and their hand moved to touch something tucked in the chest pocket of their coat. Their fingers brushing against a small, solid object beneath the fabric of their clothing.
Then, the figure I was in, moved towards a small, cracked mirror hanging on the opposite wall.
I couldn't see his face or eyes, yet I could still see.
He had light crimson hair with long curls that went down past his shoulders and clung to his skin, flowing over his face in its damp state.
With his right hand, he pushed the damp hair out and I got a better look at his features. The sight was striking—a rather sharp face with no notable features except his eyes. Eyes that stared back with a mix of determination and something darker, a shadow of fear or maybe regret.
And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the vision faded. The mirror, the ocean, the boat—all of it dissolved into nothingness, replaced by a blinding light.
I woke with a start, the remnants of the dream clinging to my consciousness like cobwebs. My body ached, and every breath sent a sharp pain through my chest, but I was awake. The familiar sounds of the waking world replaced the eerie silence of the dream.
I was lying in a bed. Where was I, what happened to the estate?
I blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from my mind. The last thing I remembered was the chaos at the estate, Rex, and then Wakley. I sat up slowly, the dull ache in my chest serving as a painful reminder of the ordeal.
Glancing around, I found myself in a small, dimly lit room. The gentle sway of the surroundings indicated that we were on a boat. On the bedside table next to me lay my pocket watch and revolver. The sight of them brought a small measure of comfort. At least my belongings were still with me.
"Finally, you're awake," a voice said, breaking the silence.
I turned my head toward the corner of the room and saw a man with a monocle, a metallic arm and a face with sharp features sitting in a chair, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert. It was Wakley Weber.
"You've been out for over a day," he continued. "As a matter of fact, we've almost arrived back at Leode."
The statement hit me like a cold splash of water. We were on our way back to Leode already?
"What happened?" I managed to croak out in a hoarse voice.
"You passed out from the pain and exhaustion," Wakley said, leaning forward slightly. "I ended up treating the lot of you and making sure you rested up."
"What about before that? The estate, Rex, Pink?"
Wakley sighed. "I didn't want you to go to the Estate and see Rex," he said. "Yet I knew it would happen. It was the path that Fate had already laid out."
I furrowed my brow, confusion swirling in my mind. "Fate?"
Wakley nodded. "I ended up using an artifact to transport you all onto this boat, taking you back to Leode."
He lifted his metallic arm, drawing my attention to a small, irregular shard embedded into his palm. It caught the light, a fragment of a broken mirror. "This," he explained, "is a piece of a mirror with the power to transport those who look into it to a predetermined location. I had already set that location to this boat. But don't worry about looking at it right now, it's expended its use for some time."
"And Rex?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Wakley met my gaze, his eyes steady. "Rex was corrupted by The Wraith. He'll live, but his path is now a rather dangerous one."
"Darius took the pages that you took from Rex too, for safekeeping," he added. "Reading the contents of those pages could cause mental corruption, similar to what happened to Rex—or even far worse."
My mind raced as I processed his words. The memories of those pages flashed before me. The content of those pages had details of the past written by [The Lonely Wanderer], or Eric Crowe as Rex had called him.
I had read the pages and delved into their depths. But why hadn't I lost control or gone insane?
Could it be the pocket watch? Bringing Rex into the illusory world of gears had temporarily eliminated his corruption. Perhaps it had protected me too in some other way.
I reached into my pocket, feeling the reassuring weight of the watch.
As Wakley stood up to leave, he reached into his inner pocket.
"I almost forgot this," he said as he tossed over a small gold object which I caught. It was the golden brooch he had taken from me the other day.
"Where did you manage to get such a thing?" Wakley asked.
I looked up at him, unsure what he meant. It had been with me from the moment I had arrived in this world, a mystery as to where it had come from. But to keep up the charade, I had to continue to act as if I hadn't somehow been transported from another world.
"That golden brooch," Wakley continued without letting me even attempt to explain myself. "It's an artifact from the fourth era at the very least. Thankfully it doesn't seem to be usable with its current conditions. I'm not sure why it remains dormant, but it's best you give it to the Church, the Goldeen Vault, or at the very least Darius. Holding onto such things could be dangerous."
How long had I unknowingly held onto this artifact? And what could it mean for me now? My fingers closed around the cold object. The brooch had never activated and had never done anything drastic to me. Perhaps, in some dire moment, it could become a useful tool.
"I'll consider it," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper as I pocketed the brooch.
Before I could dwell further on its potential, a voice called out from outside the room, muffled but urgent.
"We're arriving soon," came the foreign voice with a strange accent.
Wakley straightened, his eyes narrowing with determination. "That's my cue," he said, moving towards the door.
With that, he left the room, his footsteps fading.
I took a moment to gather myself, then pushed myself off the bed, still feeling a lingering ache in my muscles. Crossing the room, I approached the circular window, its frame slightly frosted from the cool air.
Peering through the glass, I saw the familiar sight of Leode Port coming into view in the afternoon cloudy sky, its docks bustling with activity. Old ships of varying sizes bobbed gently in the water.
We were back.
With a deep breath, I grabbed my things, tucking the brooch safely into my pocket. I navigated through the narrow corridors of the ship, the sound of my footsteps merging with the creaking of the vessel and the slapping of the water.
The closer I got to the deck, the more the noise of the outside world intensified—the call of gulls, the murmur of the foreign crew.
Stepping out onto the deck, I was greeted by the sight of the team, gathered near the side of the deck, their eyes fixed on the approaching dock. Caius was the first to notice me.
"Eli!" he shouted, rushing towards me with open arms.
Before he could reach me, I sidestepped his enthusiastic embrace, and he stumbled, landing unceremoniously on the wooden deck with a thud.
"I'm glad you're okay Eli. If you were dead, I'd have to kill you," Fleur said with a relieved smile.
Lucas simply pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the faint trail of smoke curling upwards in the brisk air.
"Welcome back Elias," Darius said with genuine relief.
"Good to be back," I replied, joining them at the railing as the ship glided smoothly into the dock.
As the crew busied themselves to secure the vessel, we prepared to disembark. The bustling activity of the port surrounded us. I scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of Wakley, but he was nowhere to be seen. Where could he have gone?
The cold, salty air filled my lungs as we walked down the pier. Suddenly, I felt a faint, almost imperceptible touch against my nose. Looking up, I saw the clouds gathering overhead, a patchy grey and white blanket that seemed to press down upon the city.
"It's that time of year again," Fleur remarked, her voice carrying a note of nostalgia.
I felt it again, a gentle kiss of cold on my skin. Snowflakes, delicate and silent, began to drift down from the sky. The first snowfall of the season, soft and unassuming, yet heralding the arrival of winter.
The snowflakes swirled around us as we made our way through the bustling port, the familiar din of Leode enveloping us with its various makeshift stands and fishermen about. As we stepped onto the cobblestone streets, Darius raised his hand to hail a public carriage.
Within moments, a more modest-looking carriage pulled by with a pair of sturdy horses, the driver nodding in acknowledgment as he reined them in.
"Argyle Lane," Darius instructed, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.
We piled into the carriage, the interior a mix of worn leather and the faint scent of tobacco from previous travellers. The wheels creaked as we began our journey, the rhythmic clatter providing a steady backdrop to our thoughts.
I settled into my seat by the window, gazing out at the city as it rolled by. "There seems to be more enforcers out than usual," I remarked, my eyes tracking a group of navy uniformed men patrolling.
Darius nodded, his expression grave. "It's to be expected. The Underground Auction event seemed to cause some kind of trouble afterwards. Thankfully, we managed to leave for Araway at the perfect time to avoid it all."
His words stirred a memory, and I found myself recalling the sight of enforcers with their portable lamp posts on poles, the rain pouring down as they publicly executed illegal arcanists. The scene had unfolded outside my carriage window we had travelled to the port to leave for Araway before.
As we continued along the streets of Leode, the city unfolded before us, a tapestry of familiar sights and sounds. The snowfall added a layer of quietude to the bustling city, muffling the usual clamour.
My attention was again drawn out the window to a wooden stage being assembled in the distance, down by the town square.
"Another public execution," I muttered to myself, the image of the spectacle on my first day in Leode flashing through my mind.
I turned away from the window and saw Caius looking slightly glum, along with Fleur looking out the same window at the scene passing by.
"Winter," She said with a flat voice.