An hour later, without Dominus showing his face, boots strike the front of the church, and I see Johnny's face peek into the building. He breathes a sigh of relief as he steps through the ruined building to stand beside my sitting form. As he walks, I see his right eye glows a dim gold, the light returning to his pupils after several hours.
"You find the Manipulator?"
I shake my head; the bastard never showed, even after I killed all his underlings. Then, I bring his attention to the unconscious and tortured man beside me.
"No. There was just the twelve Motherbound. It seemed they were also newly turned because their abilities of Darklight manifested during the fight. And do you know this man?"
Johnny's unblinded eye twists sharply to the man beside me, toting a speck of recognition as he falls into deep reflection. He crouches beside the body and examines it.
"Hmm... That's odd. You must have barely missed him, but I have a hard time believing the Manipulator survived the Lily and was fast enough to outrun you... And this man... hmm..."
Commotion rises outside as I hear the familiar voice of Heath and the rolling of carriages. Johnny nods toward the outside of the church as he kneels beside the previously crucified man.
"Heath came with me in case you're hurt, and Silas joined too. The others went to retrieve the weapons from the Vault because no one but me, you, and the undead can fight right now, though it seems you aren't a part of that group anymore. So go outside and get checked out by Heath while I stay with Geoffry."
I nod to him and stand with a painful grunt, the bullet lodged in my gut spiking my senses. But after I do, I ask about the man since Johnny seems to know him.
"Is Geoffry an Outlaw? A Hunter?"
Johnny contorts his neck as he answers, the solution more complicated than it seems.
"Kind of. He was a Hunter who was banished for following the Devil. Seems he joined Ray but was unwilling to join the Mother Below. The Motherbound must have been preparing him for corruption when the Manipulator returned."
His words make me glance at Geoffry again, the white of his eyes disconcerting. He must have gone through a similar experience as Alexos and me, only less potent as it was done not by the Manipulator but the Motherbound under its control. But if Dominus stopped here, why would he leave his Motherbound behind and this person yet to be turned? A 6th Sigil is a powerful piece for such a controller. To leave it behind... why?
Johnny partially answers my unsaid question as I start my stumble out of the church toward Heath's wagon, Dakota on my tail.
"The Manipulator must have been terrified of you, so much so that it turned those easy to corrupt before running away, leaving them to buy time."
I nod to the thought as I step out, a gunshot ringing out abruptly. The sound causes me to jerk, and I turn to see Johnny treading back toward me, smoke trailing from Fate Sealer. He leaves me with a grim smile as his lone eye combs the surroundings for any sign of survivors or dangers.
"Man was braindead. The only way to return him is for the Darklight to fill his vessel. Better to put him out of his misery."
Not knowing how to reply, I simply walk to the wagon pulled into the collapsed road with Heath sitting at the front, Silas beside him, watching for dangers.
The undead unveils a hand to help me up the wooden vehicle, and I take it, a strong force pulling me up. And once I get onto the wagon, Heath pushes me inside of it, the man blaming me for various things.
"You and Bonfire will give me a heart attack with all this stress, I swear. Sit."
I follow his direction without complaint, feeling bad for bestowing the rare doctor so much work. Heath then opens his duffle bag of endless trinkets and nicknacks, each having a purpose, and takes out a pair of tweezers. He clinks them together as he stares at me.
"I don't even have to check you with Ether to know you got lead in you, boy. Lift your arms up and stay still."
Again, I obey his commands, my arms fetching pain for my gut and torso as I lift them, but I do so anyway to make it easier for him. Heath sighs as the tweezers go for the shallow bullet wounds in my toros, the metal only going half an inch deep to retrieve a shrunken bullet. But each time the man removes steel from my body, his eyes widen.
"By the Devil! What are you made of? Lead? Most of these bullets stopped right on the bone, even if they did break the bone."
Laughing, I answer him, but I quickly stop as it hurts because he has the tweezers inside my gut, digging for the deepest bullet.
"Flesh and bone, same as--ow!"
Heath shakes his eyes, not his head, as he needs to be precise, but the man still replies to me when a bloody casing covered with flesh is ripped from the bullet hole in my stomach.
"Don't talk back when someone is performing surgery. That's common sense, Wyatt. Alright, just a few more minutes. I need to seal up your wounds and apply some ointment for that gutshot."
Nodding even with slight frustration as he's the one who asked me a question to answer, I stay perfectly still as Heath moves his fingers over my flesh, his blood flowing from pricked fingertips to close my wounds. The bullet wounds close one by one before he moves on to the primary injury. He spreads some ointment inside and outside the damage before closing it similarly.
After, he gives me a bottle of dark green liquid that sloshes with far too much viscosity for my liking.
"Okay, all sealed up. Don't move too much during the next day or so, and you should heal in that time. But, if they reopen, come back to me. And drink that flask by the end of tonight with small sips. It'll help reconstitute those broken bones you got. I know you can brute force the injury until they heal, but if I'm here, I might as well stop you from doing that."
"Thanks! I appreciate it!"
I nod to him with thanks as I crawl out of the wagon. Heath doesn't give me a response as he closes up his bag and lies down inside the wagon. When I step out, Silas is waiting for me expectantly.
"You done torturing our doc'?"
Shaking my head, I laugh and step down the wagon to Dakota, who sits patiently by the bottom.
"Yeah. I'm going to help Johnny look for any survivors. Wanna join?"
Silas glances back into the wagon's canvas that blocks the view of the inside before refusing.
"Can't. Gotta have someone to watch out for the good doctor. After the ambush, we can't risk him being alone. He dies; we're fucked. No one else knows anything medical, and it'll be hours until the others arrive."
I pet Dakota, scrubbing the blood and grime from his coat as I agree with the man.
"Makes sense. See you in a little."
Stumbling away toward Johnny, who is picking up rubble and looking underneath it, I take a gander at the flask Heath gave me. The liquid inside makes my stomach churn, but the pain with every movement compels me to take a sip.
Argh! That's fucking awful! It tastes how horseshit smells!
I almost empty my guts into the charred remains of a house, but I manage to keep the liquid inside my body and force it down. That's gonna be rough to get down the rest. But I still feel a burst of pride as I think about my fight earlier.
So far have I come. Half a year ago, I would have died to any one of those Motherbound, and now? I think I could take them all on my own, fully healed and with a body expelled of any Ether saturation. I think... I might even be close to that level of being immune to bullets, a feat only one other person I'm aware of has achieved; Marshall Travis. Pistols are said to collapse against the man's skin, rifles against his flesh, and cannonballs against his bones. I'm not there yet, but I'm not that far, either. Another Sigil or two, and I can probably do it. Hell, when my Merit becomes a true Virtue, I think it's a guarantee.
Shaking the thought aside, I join Johnny in the likely pointless pursuit of looking through the rubble for any living remnants of this town during the dead of night. I wade through the remains of the once-vibrant village settled brazenly within the skirts of the Wilds now that Tornridge has fallen to demonic hands, a ghostly silhouette against the moonlit night. Above, the twins sing their echoing light that guides my search. The charred structures loom like twisted sentinels, casting strange shadows that dance with the flickering flames.
In the vague moonlight, I tread cautiously, my steps uncertain as I navigate through the debris and fallen remnants. Johnny works a distance from me independently as Dakota scampers beside me, his nose sniffing the air for any signs of life. Each crumbling structure tells a story of lives shattered and dreams reduced to ashes. The night conceals the full extent of the destruction, but I can feel the weight of the tragedy in every fallen beam and crumbling wall. Many of these dead people were Outlaws, but not all were. Some were simply innocent people dragged into the madness of the world from the invasion of Tornridge.
I call out into the darkness, my voice carrying a mix of desperation and hope.
"Anyone alive?! Anyone?! I'm here to help!"
The echoes of my pleas bounce off the ruins, swallowed by the haunting silence surrounding me. There is no immediate response, no signs of life that offer solace in this desolate scene.
As I continue my search, the moon casts an ethereal glow, illuminating the devastation with an otherworldly light. Shadows dance and shift, distorting the already twisted landscape. Every rustle, every creak of debris underfoot sends a shiver down my spine, my senses heightened by the unknown that lurks in the darkness. I constantly glance around, feeling as though I may be ambushed.
But nothing does, and instead, I come across fragments of belongings, remnants of what were once cherished possessions. Portraits, children's toys, and a watch are beside a broken box spilled onto the street of the ruined Raystown. They lay scattered, broken, and forgotten, testaments to the lives that have been upended by this unforgiving disaster. I sigh, kneeling down to touch the items. They're all ruined, however, and I quickly let go before moving on.
As I navigate through the ruins, my heart heavy with sorrow, I catch a glimmer of light, a spark of soft blue amidst the dark rubble. Tightening my gaze, the blue sharpens, and I call out to Johnny.
"I think I found something!"
The gunslinger bustles over to me, leaping over debris and lingering flames as he quickly stands beside me, his eyes not finding any sign of life.
"Where?"
I point underneath beams of rubble from where the light comes. I can't tell who is underneath there, but they must be alive. Only the living and artifacts have their fetters blaze under the Philospher's gaze.
"There! I can't lift much right now since Heath told me not to."
Johnny stops and stares at me for a moment, disbelief in his eyes.
"What?"
Snickering, the gunslinger kneels and pries debris away as Dakota tries to help with his jaws. I do what I can to help, but I don't push myself beyond what causes pain. Reopening my wounds would be a waste of time and effort for everyone.
A few minutes pass under the moonlight of the twins above before a person is revealed; a woman in her late twenties is covered in soot, burns, and blood. She's unconscious, with shattered glasses with torn and bent frames beside her head. Her hair is dyed a dark blue, like that of the deep waters in an ocean.
Johnny digs a bit more through the rubble before pulling her out with a question to me.
"What Sigil?"
"Fifth."
He lets out a low whistle, taking a flask of water from his belt and splashing it on her face. Surprisingly, the water makes the cuts on her face recede as her eyes flutter open.
A brief stalemate ensues as she looks at the three of me, Johnny, and Dakota, before immediately fighting back. Water surges from her fingertips as a lash of liquid flies at me, but before it gets close, a golden tint comes from Johnny, the woman reverting back a fraction of a second.
And when she does, Johnny grabs her arms tightly, consoling her.
"We are here to help. Relax."
His firm but reassuring voice, which I've come to depend on, too, calms her. Johnny may not be the strongest or the most ostensibly caring man in the world, but his calm, even under fire, is something to be admired.
The woman relaxes, and the Ether that was building on her fingertips subsides, her face gazing at us with wide eyes. Her eyes are piercing blue, an ode to her Sigil that allows her to invoke water.
"W-who are you?"
I kneel down with a subdued grunt of pain as Johnny releases her from his grasp. I try to keep my words warm, but I'm not experienced in caring for others, so who knows how it sounds to her.
"I'm Wyatt, and this is Johnny. We're looking for what happened here. Could you tell us your name?"
Her stare at me breaks as her eyes show that she is starting to realize what happened, the past coming back to her. Tears well up in her eyes that are fast discarded with a wave as she sputters out her name.
"Autumn. Autumn Adkins. I-I was helping Ray build up his trade. Lots of pelts and resources were amassed by the Outlaws he gathered that he wanted to sell... is he okay? I... I only remember the fire. All-consuming fire with that darkness. I-- I did what I could to help, but... Ray wasn't there..."
Johnny sits beside her as he holds her shoulders, the parent in him escaping momentarily.
"It's okay. It's fine. Ray... Ray is dead. The Manipulator got him--"
Autumn's shoulders shake as he mentions Dominus, so Johnny changes the subject. While he does so, he taps her arms tenderly.
"You want to come with us? We're about to head east and escape all this danger."
She nods slowly, her eyes scratching a brutal record across the landscape. Johnny's words, however, catch my attention. This is the first time he's actually mentioned where we're going. I figured he kept it hidden because he wasn't sure yet, but it seems that's not the case.
Johnny then stands and offers out a hand with another question.
"Come on, then, Autumn. You got any family here? We could stay and bury them."
She shakes her head, a muted answer in response that invokes our attention.
"No... My father wouldn't get caught by a Manipulator. He's much too strong, and my mother died long ago."
I catch Johnny's gaze as we both put two and two together. Strong father, last name Adkins, and water. Neither of us voices it, but we both know.
This is Maddox Adkins' daughter. It's not too surprising to find his spawn in the Wilds, for he's a well-known playboy with many children. Some say he has hundreds of little ones running about, each with a fraction of his talent. Still, none have ever faulted the legend due to his strength, and neither will I.
What other Outlaw can brute force himself into a pardon from the Prime? And then follow through with the pardon and stay a respectable man? Maddox is a bonafide legend, and as such, I will give his daughter the respect I cannot give him.
Autumn takes the hand and is pulled to her feet, the woman taking a moment to regain her calm. But the whole while we begin our trek back to the wagon, her eyes never leave the burning embers. From flame to flame, her gaze shifts, not once taking a break. She's got a severe issue; even I can recognize that. Whatever happened here will take a while to come from her lips, but I loathe hearing it. Dominus is a madman. The schemes of a Manipulator bring hundreds into the fires of damnation.
After a few minutes of traversing the rubble, we get back to the wagon, each of us calling for Heath to come out.
"Heath! We found a survivor! She's burned up and cut! Can you come help?!"
A moment passes with no noise in return, so we look at the undead for guidance, his hat covering his eyes in case we find somebody. Silas sits at the front as his eyebrows rise from a lack of response from Heath, the ever-vigilant watchman keeping the peace. He hollers for the doctor as well, but no reply comes.
"Heath! Wake up! I know you're tired, but that's too damn bad!"
Even as Silas yells, no reply comes, and I feel my heart sink. Is something wrong, or is he simply asleep?