Tragedy of Divinity

Chapter 18: Ties That Bind

The morning air was heavy with the weight of unanswered questions as the trio made their way through the winding streets of Jill. The old cobblestones beneath their feet clicked softly with each step, a rhythmic reminder of the quiet tension that bound them together. The city was alive with the sound of merchants bartering, the creak of cart wheels, and the faint melodies of street performers, but to Seraphine, it all felt like a strange illusion—a façade of normalcy masking the truth of the Nexus.

Quintin walked beside her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, his gaze darting around as if the city's vibrancy might offer answers. Lucian trailed a step behind, his presence as cold and detached as ever, his eyes scanning their surroundings with a practiced sharpness. He hadn't spoken a word since the encounter with the old man, and Seraphine was beginning to think he wouldn't. Not until she forced him to.

"I don't trust him," Lucian finally said, his voice breaking the silence like a blade slicing through fabric.

Seraphine stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. "The old man?"

Lucian's dark eyes met hers, his gaze unwavering. "He's playing a game with you. With us. He knows too much, and he's not sharing it for free."

Seraphine crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. "And you would know, wouldn't you? You seem awfully familiar with him."

Lucian's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he looked away, his eyes scanning the bustling street as if he could escape the conversation by sheer will.

Quintin cleared his throat, stepping between them in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Look, maybe we're all just overthinking this," he said, his tone light but uncertain. "The guy's weird, sure, but maybe he's just… you know, trying to help?"

Lucian let out a humorless laugh, the sound low and biting. "Help? That man doesn't help anyone without a price. Trust me."

The finality in his voice made Seraphine pause. There was something deeper behind his words, something he wasn't saying. She wanted to press him, to dig into whatever it was he was hiding, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was a hardness there, a warning that she wasn't sure she wanted to test just yet.

"Fine," she said, turning away and continuing down the street. "But until he proves otherwise, I'm not dismissing him. He's the only one who's given us any real answers."

Lucian didn't reply, and Quintin let out a small sigh of relief, clearly glad the argument hadn't escalated further.

The trio's destination was a small tavern tucked away in one of Jill's quieter districts, a place the old man had mentioned during their previous encounter. The Blackthorn Inn was unassuming, its weathered sign swinging gently in the breeze. The faint smell of roasted meat and stale ale wafted through the air as they stepped inside.

The interior was dimly lit, with heavy wooden beams and a crackling hearth that cast flickering shadows across the walls. The patrons were a mix of locals and travelers, their voices low and subdued. It was the kind of place where people came to blend in, to avoid notice.

Lucian took a seat at a corner table, his back to the wall, his eyes scanning the room with practiced caution. Seraphine and Quintin joined him, though the latter looked slightly uncomfortable under the weight of Lucian's silent intensity.

"So, what now?" Quintin asked, breaking the silence as he leaned back in his chair. "Are we just supposed to wait for him to show up? Or is there some secret code we're missing?"

Seraphine shrugged, her gaze drifting to the fire. "He said he'd meet us here," she said. "So we wait."

Lucian's lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing. His fingers tapped lightly against the table, a barely perceptible sign of his impatience.

Minutes stretched into an hour, and the tavern's crowd began to thin as the evening wore on. The trio sat in tense silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts and unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air.

Just as Seraphine was about to give up, the old man appeared.

He moved through the tavern with the same quiet confidence as before, his long coat trailing behind him like shadows given form. He didn't look at the trio as he approached their table, instead pulling up a chair and sitting down as if he belonged there.

"You're late," Lucian said, his voice low and edged with irritation.

The old man smiled, the kind of smile that made Seraphine's skin crawl. "Am I?" he said, his tone light, almost mocking. "Time works differently in the Nexus, my boy. You should know that by now."

Lucian's eyes narrowed, but he didn't respond.

Seraphine leaned forward, her hands clasped on the table. "Enough with the cryptic nonsense," she said. "If you've got answers, I want them. Why are we here? What's the Nexus, really? And what's your role in all of this?"

The old man's gaze shifted to her, his smile fading into something more serious. "The Nexus," he said slowly, "is a place of convergence. A meeting point for worlds, realities, and possibilities. It exists outside the boundaries of what you know as time and space, a crossroads where the threads of existence are woven together."

"That doesn't explain why we're here," Seraphine pressed. "Why us? Why now?"

The old man's eyes sparkled with a knowing light. "Because you are threads that do not fit. Outliers. Anomalies in the grand design. The Nexus pulls in those who disrupt the weave, those who cannot be contained within their own worlds. And you, my dear, are perhaps the most disruptive of them all."

Seraphine's stomach tightened at his words, a cold knot of unease settling in her chest. She didn't know what he meant, not fully, but she could feel the weight of it.

"And him?" she asked, nodding toward Lucian. "What's his role in all this?"

The old man's smile returned, faint but unmistakable. "Ah, Lucian. He's a thread of a different kind. One that resists the weave, even as it binds him."

Lucian's fists clenched under the table, his knuckles white. "You don't know anything about me," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

The old man chuckled softly. "Oh, but I do," he said. "I know far more than you'd like me to."

The tension between them was palpable, a silent battle of wills that made the air around them feel heavy. Seraphine wanted to say something, to break the tension, but before she could, the old man stood.

"Your questions will be answered in time," he said, his voice calm but final. "For now, focus on surviving. The Nexus is not kind to those who dwell too long on the why."

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows as if he'd never been there.

Seraphine sat back in her chair, her mind racing. The old man's words had only raised more questions, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of time to find the answers.

Lucian, meanwhile, sat in stony silence, his gaze fixed on the empty doorway where the old man had vanished.

Quintin broke the silence with a nervous laugh. "Well," he said, "that was… something."

Seraphine didn't respond. Neither did Lucian.

For once, they were both lost in their own thoughts.

Chapter 18: Ties That Bind.