Chapter 3: The Echoes of Power
The drizzle gradually grew into a steady rain while Lance wandered through the cobblestone streets of Eldermire City. He walked slowly with his hands in pockets and mind moving back and forth between alerted thoughts and the unedifying stagnancy of his life. There was no destination, just a natural urge pulling him along-curiosity and the haunting question: Could I really be a god?
Lance, though known as an idler, indeed possessed a rare intelligence that would set him apart: detached-but razor-sharp mind could notice the pattern and behaviors that others fail to do. The thought of godhood had ignited something within him that was sizzling, threatening to blaze into a fire that could not be quenched. Not that he'd let anyone see it: outside, he remained as lazy and uninterested as ever.
He was broken from his reverie by Evelyn, appearing at his side with auburn hair glued to her face in the rain, an expression of unease skewing her typical self-composure. She'd been looking for him. "You always leave in the worst moments," she stated with a voice timorous because of impatience. "For a person so uninterested, you have quite the talent to find oneself in the middle of it all."
Lance smirked lazily, eyes half-lidded. "It's a gift, really. What's the crisis this time?"
"A family meeting," she said, her voice low. "It's about my parents. The elders have summoned me."
As Lance halted, he narrowed his gaze slightly. He had heard enough about Evelyn's family-the ancient pact and the latent power, along with the strange disappearance of her parents-to understand that this was big.
"What's your plan?" he asked.
"Survive," she replied bitterly laughing. "The elders don't summon people for tea and biscuits. They want answers, and they think I have them."
Lance tilted his head, studying her. She was tense, her fingers fidgeting with the pendant she always wore. It was a nervous habit he'd seen many times before, and it told him she was more scared than she let on.
"Do you?" he asked.
"Have answers?" Evelyn sighed. "Not the kind they're looking for. But I'll have to give them something."
He nodded thoughtfully, his mind already working through the possibilities. Evelyn's family might not be one of the top powers, but they had influence. The ancient pact—a protective curse or blessing, depending on your perspective—had kept them safe for generations. But if it was weakening, as the rumors said, then her position was precarious.
"I'll come with you," he said.
She blinked in surprise. "You hate family politics."
"I do," he agreed, his tone as indifferent as ever.
"But I'm curious. And let's be honest, you could use someone like me."
"Someone lazy and unpredictable?" she asked, though there was a hint of gratitude in her voice.
"Someone who sees things others don't," he corrected, a small smile playing on his lips.
The manor loomed before us, its dark stone and gothic turrets a monument to the family's history. Inside the air was heavy. Elders and important family members sat around a long polished table, their faces a mix of suspicion and anticipation.
Evelyn walked in first, her head held high despite the weight of their stares. Lance followed a step behind, and the room murmured. He was an outsider, after all, and his relaxed air seemed almost rude in the seriousness of the moment.
"Evelyn," an elder said, his voice like gravel. "You're late."
"Sorry," she said, sitting down. Lance remained standing, leaning against the wall with an air of not caring at all. Which was a lie. He was watching everything.
"We've heard rumors," another elder started, his tone accusatory. "About your parents' work. About what they might have found before they... disappeared."
Evelyn's jaw clenched. "Rumors aren't facts. What are you accusing me of?"
The room hummed with murmurs. Lance's eyes flicked to the younger cousin in the shadows, her body language telling. He filed that away for later.
"The research center they worked at was burned to the ground," the elder went on. "But there are rumors of... artifacts. Things that shouldn't exist."
Lance's ears perked up at this. 'Artifacts? That was new.' He shifted slightly, and Evelyn's gaze flicked to him. She took that as her cue to be careful.
"If such artifacts exist," she said carefully, "I wouldn't know. My parents never involved me in their work."
"Convenient," the elder snarled.
Lance decided to chime in. "Convenient, maybe. Or maybe it's just the truth. Not everything is a conspiracy."
The room was silent at his words. He had a way of shutting people up without saying a word, and it annoyed and fascinated them both.
"And who are you to speak in this?" the elder growled.
"Just an outsider," Lance said, his voice casual but his eyes piercing. "But I've noticed the more someone objects, the more they're hiding."
The elder's face turned red but he said nothing. Evelyn gave Lance a look of thanks and frustration.
As they walked out of the manor, the rain had stopped and the streets were shiny under the streetlights. Evelyn was quiet, her mind working.
"Artifacts," Lance said out loud. "That's interesting."
"You think they exist?"
"I think they think they do," he said. "And that's enough to warrant looking into."
She looked at him, a small smile on her face. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"A little," he said. "But mostly I'm curious. And as you know, curiosity is a bad habit."
For a moment they walked on in companionable silence, the weight of that evening's events hanging between them. But in Lance's mind, the wheels began to turn. Artifacts, ancient pacts, and a family on the verge of collapse-the game was getting quite interesting.
And Lance loved an interesting game.