Chronicles of a Falling Empire [Bloodstained, Bloodshed]

her armor gleams in crimson light
a shield of hope within her hand
she rides amidst the darkest night
brings calm and peace to war-torn land

- "The Shield," Verse 2

I'm back in the crypt staring at my own reflection in the mirror, breathing heavily. Everyone is looking at me—everyone. I meet Jebah's gaze, King Audrin's, Ra'mes. Bardic claps twice. No one else moves. Lefe turns away to study Angeliana's sarcophagus again.

"Very well," Killián says, appearing behind me in the silvery glass. "Ko and Ra'mes—you two are up."

"I'm not playing an insen." Ra'mes rubs a hand over his graying hair. "It's beneath me."

"You're playing Audrin," Lord Galtero tells me, rising from the chair. "Little brother, take my seat."

"Don't use that word, Ra'mes," Lefe says. He puts a hand on the sarcophagus. "You have no idea. None of you have any idea. Lefe kind of wants to see Ra'mes play Ko."

"No," Galtero says. "I'm protecting Ra'mes. He's on my team. Ko plays Audrin."

"Excuse me?" Audrin looks mildly surprised. "How do you figure?"

"You have less sin."

"Explain."

Galtero pauses. "In Ko's mind…yes. You have less sin. He sees it differently than we do. He's not from the First Circuit."

"I'll play the girl," Ra'mes offers, scrutinizing Kempe. "Whoreson got a titan to play for him—it was barely a victory. He should be disqualified."

"Marix won fairly, and we're not sacrificing a player," Killián says.

"I'm sin free." Galtero's voice is flat. "We're not debating this. Audrin, if you wish to keep the kingship, take my seat."

"I'll play Ko." King Audrin's voice is quiet, and the room falls silent—aside from a feint dripping, it hangs heavily in the air until he continues. "If my titan has his soul—or played some part in its disappearance—it's only fair I help him figure out what's going on."

"You would do that?" I ask, staring at him. If he was of my birth caste and not a king, he could make good money in the cathouse—even pushing 30. His blond hair is coiffed beneath the golden crown, and his blue eyes reflect light from the shimmering sconces. He's slender with no discernable muscle beneath his robes, but he's tall—at least a head taller than I am. High cheekbones give his face an aristocratic elegance, and his skin is fair—unmarred by the harshness of battle that Killián wears. He has a faint, healthy glow, as if he spends a significant amount of time under the open sky.

His expression is serene. "There are conditions."

"Name them," I say.

"This will be a one-sided game," Audrin says. "You are not to go through my mind or retaliate when I push your bounds—that's not what we're doing. I'll merely sift through what's left of your mind until I can figure out how and when your soul was stolen—or I give up. You will not attempt to access my memories. You will not ask me questions. You will not fight."

"That's not how the mirror game works," Killián says. "I'm seeking information on my sister, not—"

"—helping your lieutenant?" Audrin studies Killián, his expression mild. "Ko is missing his soul—surely that takes precedent over your latest crusade. Let Brid Naya'il rest, and allow this to be the last match of the night. Unless you wish to challenge me personally?"

"I do."

"Well, I decline." He yawns, cat-like, revealing straight teeth and sharp incisors. "Do you want my help or not?"

"Yes," I say immediately.

Audrin looks to Killián. "You agree this will be the last bout of the night?"

"That was not my challenge."

"Well, someone mentioned fireworks. I love fireworks, and it's getting dark—were you teasing me?"

"I want to know what happened between Brid Naya'il and Jebah."

"I want an end to the never-ending war—it's a drain on the finances and emotional stability of our realm," Audrin says. "I want the citizens of Sojoz to pay their taxes on time. I want to outlaw prostitution in Valenès, putting to rest the separation and isolation of Lady Love's telltale sin. I want my daughter to speak without a lisp. Lo, the Ladies have other plans."

"Madeline's lisp is adorable," Jebah says. "How dare you?"

"She won't be five forever, and it will become indecent as she grows," Audrin says. "That's not the point. General, let the past stay where it belongs and focus your energy on the staffmasters who need you."

"My death duel with Jebah is scheduled for tomorrow," Killián says. "If there are family secrets that may impact allegiance from the ancestors, now is the time to bring them into the light. Two more matches—Audrin and Ko, and Jebah and myself."

"No deal," Audrin says. "If you want my assistance, my bout with Lieutenant Ko will close this affair."

"You're exploiting Ko's weakness to get out of confessing sin. You're shielding Jebah. This is ridiculous."

"I'm offering to help an insen, which I am under no moral or legal obligation to do."

"Killi," Bardic says quietly. "Take the deal and stop being stubborn."

Killián looks at me for a long, hard moment. My heart hammers in my chest. I can't believe he's hesitating—I almost feel betrayed. For a second, I wonder about what Leómadura said in the washroom: This wouldn't be the first time he's committed a serious crime. I trust Killián, I do, but I can't help but wonder what Leómadura meant. I'm sure Killián didn't take my soul, but still—right now is proof of an ends-justify-the-means mentality. Could he have committed similar offenses in the past? Is that why he's being so blasé about the fact that I'm missing my soul?

At long last, Killián's impassive features soften.

"Okay," he says. "If—and only if—you can help my lieutenant…I'll let this go."

"Deal." Audrin claps his hands together, then takes a seat on the opposite side of the mirror. Galtero swaps places with him, and Killián packs the pipe. "I suggest you take a hit," Audrin says once he's exhaled a cloud of sweet smoke into the air between us. "It will make this easier for me."

I wrestle with myself for a few moments, but eventually I take the pipe from Killián—I'll do whatever it takes to increase the odds of Audrin being able to help. My head spins, my chest grows tight—I cough, resist the urge to spit. The syrupy taste is overwhelming—it's on my tongue, between my lips. I feel like my skull might float off my shoulders and spin circles around the room. I think I got more than I did the last few times I hit the pipe—my inhale felt longer, burned more. Am I high? I don't feel high. I definitely feel high. I grin. People are chanting. I'm chanting. It's a creepy chant.

The mirror glows.

I keep my eyes closed on the descent, ignore the feelings of threads wrapping around my wrists and ankles, allow myself to drift through the dark. Whispers carry me, giggles. I don't find my way to the room with mirrors—instead, Audrin and I are on the bank of a flowing river. The water shimmers with an ethereal glow, changing colors as it moves—from silvery-blue to golden, twilight purple and dawn pink. The current is strong and dynamic, with occasional ripples of images on its surface. I'm curled on a floormat in our apartment on L-Street, my head on Akeeva's chest. I'm pouring tea down Ila's throat—she's barely moving. I'm wrestling Dune in the Colosseum—I hit the sweet spot on the back of his head. I'm on the floor of Leómadura's office, my body obscured by his own—

No. I look away.

Along the banks, strange and beautiful flora thrive. Flowers bloom and wither in seconds, leaves change through the seasons, growing orange and falling, then rising once more. Smooth, pristine white sands line the side of the river. The sound of the flowing water is gentle, a melodic rush. Faint echoes—cries and laughter, whispers and hums—drift by on the passing wind.

"The River of Time." Audrin is watching me carefully. "Do you know why I brought you here?"

"My memories," I say, thinking of the images I saw in the water. "They're here."

"Echoes and refractions, preserved in the time web," says a voice behind me. "To navigate the river's flow, seek the truth that lies below. Face the shadows of your past—look into the marble's glass. The path ahead is fraught with fear. Trust in what you hold most dear. Who am I?"

I turn. Lady Fate's incarnate, Genevieve, is standing at the base of a bridge that stretches across the bank of the river. It looks as though she's wearing fabric starlight—the silvery glow ripples as she moves. The v-cut is low on her neck. I keep my gaze on her face—her blond hair is held back with golden beads, and her lips are painted blood red.

"Lady Fate," King Audrin says mildly. "What brings you here?"

"Little brother." She dips her head in greeting. "I warned you when our cousin last brought you to these banks that if you dared to return, you would never escape from the web. Why didn't you listen? We're past the point of no return."

"I'm not here for me." Audrin's posture stiffens. "I'm soul hunting—favor for our blessed general."

"A noble reason, but the outcome is the same."

His blue eyes widen—he looks faintly panicked now.

"Take us back," he says. "Now, Genevieve."

"I warned you, Audi." Her voice is sad, but her lips twitch ever so slightly. "There is no returning."

"I call upon Lady Love." He snaps his fingers twice, the sound odd and sharp. "I call upon L'Angly. Obey, and answer your lord."

Nothing happens. No one appears.

Audrin tries again, and again. His movements quicken, his voice pitches. After the fifth or sixth try he seems to give up—his hand drops to his side, and he stares at Genevieve with an expression of forced calm on his face. His breathing is steady, but his eyes betray him—they dart from her face to the river to the banks to the sky, as if he's searching for a way out.

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"I wish to return to the lands above," he says. "Guide my way, or stand aside."

"I preserve the secrets old, buried deep and often told. I hold the key to what you seek, my nature dark and ever bleak. What am I?"

Audrin thinks for a second, then turns to me. "Any idea?"

Keeper of secrets old, buried deep and told often, implies something ancient and hidden yet frequently referenced. Holding the keys to what I seek—my soul—implies the answer will unlock the way forward. A Lady, perhaps a titan—but she said what, not who. Nature dark and ever bleak…what's depressing as fuck?

"Memory," I say, thinking of L-Street.

"Correct." Her smile gleams—Audrin looks stunned. "You may ask a question in return, Lieutenant Ko."

"How do I get my soul back?"

"To reclaim what once was lost, you must face the titan's cost." Her voice is melodic, sing-songy. "Journey through time-woven strands, where shadows dance on shifting sands. Seek the fragments, scattered wide, where truth and courage must collide. Bringing the pieces back to whole—restore your fractured, broken soul. Beware the cost it takes to save—for each step forward, a price is paid. In river's depths you'll fate your path, but heed my words—you'll fall to wrath."

"We should kill her," Audrin tells me. "Got a knife?"

"That's your sister," I say, not sure if he's kidding.

"Achille was my brother, and I took my time with him," he says. "It's high time someone offed her head. The woman's gone rogue. Fate used to be helpful—now she's just mucking with us. Is it true you've started eating flesh instead of smoking mallow to get here, Gen?"

I have other, more pressing questions. "Is my soul really broken?" I ask her. "How is that even possible?"

"No questions without answers," she says. "In L'Angly's halls where shadows creep, a secret bond, a vow to keep. A sin concealed from daylight's gaze, entwined in love and darkened ways. Forbidden truth that silence holds, that shames the heart and keeps it cold. What am I?"

"Oh, eff you," Audrin says—his cheeks look a little pink. "Incest."

Her eyes narrow. "Adultery."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Audrin sounds cross. "My answer was better than yours—I've never cheated. Tell Ko if his soul is broken."

She clears her throat, clearly bracing to hit us with another riddle.

"When Lady Loss was called to be, the soul you had was split in three. The first part went to Lady Love—your fate was sealed to Lust's cruel drug. The second part was kept intact—Love's titan keeps what Love takes back. The third was saved for future use—blood nor death will end the truce. Heed my words and heed them well—you face damnation worse than Hel."

"Have you ever heard of this happening before?" I ask Audrin, trying to make peace with the fact that, not only are we trapped in the time web, but apparently I have to track down three parts of my soul instead of one. "A soul being split apart, I mean."

"It's why our Testaments forbid conversion," Audrin says. "The Ladies don't like to share—they can do it, but no one should choose such a fate. It's not just illegal, it's dangerous—I'm not sure if I can help you, Ko. Facing down my titan would not go well for me—and that's saying nothing of my Lady. Adelaide and I didn't part on good terms."

I'm disappointed, but I get it. "I'm on my own."

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, a bit bitterly. "I can't."

"The rest of the players are watching, right?" I ask. "Killián and Lefe and Bardic? Kempe? Ra'mes? They'll help us get out of here."

"They can't follow us to the River of Time," he says. "We're shielded here."

That's concerning. "These rules seem really arbitrary."

"I didn't make them." His voice is testy. "Have you ever cracked open a Testament? What do they even teach you at that effing military academy—anything beside how to find the pointy end of a sword?"

If I'd imagined on L-Street what meeting the king of L'Anglimar would be like, I would've thought him regal, proper, and dangerous—I'd have said I'd be put to death for taking a tone with him. Even though Killián told me he's the Lord of Love first and a king second, I'd still have assumed he'd be above petty comments like the one he just retorted. I wonder why he's speaking to me so informally—is it because I'm a staffmaster, or because we're playing the mirror game? I'm a Whoreson, the lowest birth caste in the realm—not to mention the fact that this man and all his friends seem to think I'm insentient. I guess I should be thankful he's not crueler.

"Alright," I say. "We'll start with Lady Love—how do we get to her?"

"In Love's dark grace, where secrets hide, a bond that broke to hurt and pride." Genevieve folds her arms over her chest—her smug smile lets me know that she's been catching Audrin's side-eyes. That, or she's enjoying this. "A twin's embrace, a lover's shame, conceals the truth and whispers blame. What word unlocks the heart's sealed gate in mirrors where fractured souls await?"

Silence. I'm looking at Audrin—clearly this is a riddle that's meant for him, not me. His pale cheeks are still faintly pink, and his hands are clenched into fists at his side. His jaw locks, and he mutters to himself—whatever he said earlier, he is helping me, and I'm beyond grateful for it.

"A bond that broke—that must be Addie's suicide," he murmurs. "But there was never any shame, and I didn't blame her for it—what gives? What word could you possibly be looking for?"

"Do you give up?" Genevieve asks. It sounds like a taunt.

"I'm thinking," he says. "Twins…that could be me and Addie, or you and Torrense, or Brid Naya'il and Jebah."

"Or Killián and Bardic's kids," I say. "Lots of twins around the First Circuit. I don't think I ever met a twin until I got here."

"I very much doubt they're the referenced pair," Audrin says. "A lover's shame…okay. The answer is Jebah."

"Correct," Genevieve says. "You've lost your Lady—she serves Jebah."

"Jebah follows Death." Audrin's voice is a snap. "And he would never betray me—not even for her."

"Are you so certain?" She quirks an eyebrow. "Imagine what he could do with a soul that places him in such close proximity to the general's lieutenant—even if it is just a third. You know he's ambitious. You know he wants Yosif's scythe. Is it impossible to imagine he's capable of serving more than one Lady?"

"Illegal and dangerous," Audrin says for the second time. "Besides, I would know if he was using the power of Lady Love."

"Hang on," I say. "What power?"

"Emotional detection and manipulation," Audrin says without looking at me. "As a conduit, I can stir feelings of love, desire, and devotion in anyone I encounter. I can enhance emotions that are already there—anger, sadness, joy, grief, fear. It's useful when the Septemvirate gets out of hand, but as a general rule of thumb I try not to use it on my counsel. It's mind magic. There are…consequences, and there's a cost. Manipulating others is bad for the soul. Seriously—read a Testament."

I ignore that. "You would know if Jebah was doing…mind magic, or whatever?"

"Yes." There's a slight pause. "If he used it on me."

"I know he's your friend, but he's not a good man."

"You don't know him," Audrin says. "And watch how you speak to me. You may be an elite, but you're also a subject—I'm your king. Don't forget yourself."

"With all due respect, Your Highness, Jebah mutilated my hand in Gidad," I say. "There was no reason for it—I think he got off on my suffering."

"Pain is his love language. He had a tough childhood."

"So did Killián," I say. "So did I." So did you, according to Brid. "That doesn't make sadism okay."

"Jebah is not a soul thief, and neither is Adelaide," he says with an air of finality. "If she has part of your soul, she's protecting it. As is Addie's right—you were born to the caste of Lust. You're not getting back that segment."

"What about L'Angly's piece?" I counter. "What about Leómadura's?"

He looks at me sharply. "What makes you think Leómadura has part of your soul?"

"Come on." I stare at him—he's an effing king. He can't possibly be this slow. "The third was saved for future use—blood nor death will end the truce. Killián told me he'd be put to death for what happened at L-DAW—now he's walking around the First Circuit a free man. It has to be him."

"We don't know that."

"Then let's ask Lady Fate." I turn to Genevieve, who's watched our interaction with a coy smile on her face. "Who's got the third part of my soul?"

"In tangled threads that Fate designs, the truth you seek may not align," she says. I'm starting to really hate the meter and rhythm of her riddles—is she trying to drive me crazy? "A lustful touch may leave a mark, but deeper shadows lurk in dark. Soul theft is not a one man role—forces dance, beyond control. Look not to one, but the grand scheme—only there you'll find the team."

"L'Angly and Leómadura, then."

"Correct."

"Impossible," Audrin says to Genevieve. "Our cousin isn't a conduit."

"He most definitely is," I say. "That…emotional manipulation thing you talked about. I've felt that. He used it on me."

I don't want to think about it—I never want to think about it—but now that it's out in the open, I can't stop. There was a primal, out-of-control feeling—the fear is what I remember most. Not just because of what he was doing, but because of what he was saying. Threatening to take me to that damn hunting cabin, keeping me there, was bad—telling me that would be my eternity in the afterlife if I told anyone was worse. I believed it wholeheartedly, and I'm not sure why—it's not like I knew then that he was stealing my soul. That kept me quiet for so long—even if it wasn't part of my conscious decision making process as I left L-DAW a liar, it factored into it. All I remember about telling Bardic in the tent is that I wanted to get him away from the academy—I thought I was going to die at Jude's hand, and I needed to tie up the loose threads. Is it possible that he was mentally enhancing my anguish, my fear, my pain?

Maybe.

Maybe it just fucking sucked, and there was no magic.

Audrin's looking at me with a peculiar expression on his face. It's like he's not quite sure whether to believe me or not, and that's frustrating, because I don't know whether or not he should. It's not like I'm certain—then again, Leómadura basically confirmed in the washroom he's a conduit for L'Angly, who's not exactly a paragon of virtue himself. Is it beyond reason to think he might've been using magic on me, keeping me still and quiet and so damn scared I didn't even fight back?

Maybe it's delusional to think I would've fought if it hadn't been for mind magic, but it makes me feel a little better.

"Heightened sensation of pain and pleasure?" Audrin asks, after a pause. "Emotion induction—feelings stronger than you've ever felt before, overwhelming your ability to think rationally? Psychological coercion—a voice speaking in your mind, telling you what to do and how to behave?"

I don't want to reply. I can't reply. I look at my feet.

"Sex magic can be great." His expression is distant. "It can also be terrible, and yes—weaponized. Love is a peculiar Lady."

"I didn't want it."

"You took his money."

I hate Audrin in this moment—hate him enough to make my face flush and my fingernails cut lines into my palms.

"He didn't exactly give me a choice."

"What, he had a knife on you?"

"No," I say through gritted teeth.

"So you took it."

"He shoved the coins in my pocket, told me to stay quiet, and let me leave. I just wanted to get out of his office."

"You shouldn't have accepted payment—outside of Valenès, that's a crime. You're lucky Ra'mes didn't charge you with solicitation, but he wants to keep a scandal from blemishing the record of a First Circuit institution."

"You weren't there. I didn't solicit."

"Watch how you speak to me."

"You're accusing me of—" I break off, take a deep breath, another. Screaming at the king of L'Anglimar is going to get me in worse trouble, and I want to make this situation better. "Look. I just want my soul back from someone who's threatened me with eternal isolation and confinement. That's not good. That's not right. Will you help me get it back or not?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" He sounds angry now. "Your move."

I turn to Genevieve. "How do we find Lady Love?"

"In labyrinthed web of Fate's design, Love and Lust remain entwined," she says. "Seek not with eyes, for only heart can lead to what sets Love apart. In gardens of forgotten dreams, where blossoms bloom in Time's cold streams, let the threads be compass true, guiding you to rendezvous."

"Wildly unhelpful," Audrin says. "Why aren't my snaps working?"

"The tapestry of Time's grand weave—"

"Forget it," he says. "Let's go downstream. We need to find an altar—or build one. Let's go."

He turns on his heel, walks away from the bridge, and follows the direction of the current.

I have two choices—follow the king who just accused me of solicitation, or stay here with a woman who tells riddles and drugged Lefe.

Both options suck.

I choose to follow the person who's helping me.