The next two days passed in a blur of preparation and waiting.
Leximus moved through the capital like a ghost, his footsteps silent on the cobbles, his presence a blind spot in the world's attention. He walked the extraction route three more times—once in the morning, when the streets were crowded with merchants setting up their stalls; once in the afternoon, when the fog was thickest and the gas lamps struggled against the dark; and once at night, when the slums belonged to the gangs and the desperate.
Each time, he used Echo-Walk. Each time, he saw the capacitors—hidden in walls, beneath floorboards, behind false panels. Each time, the vision cost him. His head ached. His nose bled. The Tide-Mark spread another fraction of an inch up his neck, the black lines curling around his jaw like roots searching for soil.
But he learned.
He learned where the capacitors were clustered—the warehouses on Marrow Street, the factory on Cooper Street, the tenements on Tanner's Row. He learned the patterns of the men who guarded them—the shifts, the rotations, the moments when their attention wandered. He learned the weak points in the walls, the gaps in the wards, the places where the stone was thin enough to break.
And he learned that Eugene had been telling the truth about one thing: the capacitors were everywhere. Not just in the slums. The merchant district. The artisan quarter. The grand boulevard. The King had been planting them for months, maybe longer, hiding them in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to light the fuse.
The solstice, Leximus thought. Eugene said the King's orders were for the solstice.
But the Public Showing is before the solstice. The extraction is before the solstice.
He's not waiting for the solstice. He's waiting for me.
On the second day, Mira found him in the cathedral basement.
She came down the spiral staircase without warning, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls, her face pale in the dim light. Leximus was kneeling before the map, the artifacts spread around him—the Pen, the Coin, the Lantern, the Key. He looked up when she entered, his eyes dark, his face unreadable.
"You've been gone," she said.
"I've been walking the route."
"Alone?"
"Alone."
Mira crossed her arms. Her jaw was tight, her eyes sharp. "Alex heard from his contact. The soldiers on the Public Showing route have been given new orders. They're to watch for anything unusual. Anyone who doesn't belong."
"They won't see me."
"They might see us." Mira stepped closer. "We're not invisible, Leximus. We can't blend with the shadows. We're just people, no scratch that, we are what other Avatars call normal . Normal Avatars who are about to do something very stupid."
"Stupid?"
"Suicidal." She knelt across from him, her eyes on the map. "The slums route is a trap. You know it's a trap. Eugene knows it's a trap. The King probably knows it's a trap. And we're walking into it anyway."
Leximus was quiet for a long moment.
"I know."
"Then why are we doing this?"
"Because I don't have a choice."
Mira stared at him. Her face was hard, but her eyes were soft.
"There's always a choice."
"Not for me." Leximus looked at the map. "She's my sister. She's the only family I have left. If I don't save her, no one will."
"The cult could—"
"The cult wants to use her. Just like Eugene wants to use me." Leximus shook his head. "The only person who's going to save Sheila is me."
Mira was quiet for a long time.
"Alex had a family," she said finally. "A wife. Two children. He's not doing this for the cult. He's not doing this for you. He's doing this because he believes he can finally get his revenge."
"What!?"
"He believes that one of the paths that may lead him to achieving his goal. A possibility." She looked at him. "That's what the Void is supposed to be about. Possibility. Potential. The chance to do something new."
"The Void doesn't build. It un-writes."
"Then un-write the lies. Un-write the Crown. Un-write the King." Mira stood. "That's what Eugene doesn't understand. That's what the cult doesn't understand. You're not a weapon. You're not a symbol. You're a person. A person who gets to choose."
She walked toward the stairs.
"Mira."
She stopped.
"Thank you."
She didn't turn around.
"Don't thank me. Thank me after we get her out."
She climbed the stairs and disappeared into the darkness.
On the third day, Alex brought news.
He found Leximus in the tannery, sitting on the edge of the cot, the Pen in his hand, the Coin in his pocket. The room was dark, the gas lamp turned low, the only light the faint glow of the street beyond the window.
"The soldiers on the route have been bribed," Torin said. "Not all of them. Just the ones at the key intersections. They'll look the other way for thirty seconds. Maybe less."
"That's enough."
"It'll have to be." Alex leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "My contact also heard something else. Something about the King."
Leximus looked up. "What?"
"He's been meeting with someone. A woman. No one knows who she is. She comes to the palace at night, leaves before dawn. The guards have orders not to speak of her."
"Eugene's contact," Leximus said. "The woman in the dark coat."
"You've seen her?"
"In a vision. She was talking to Eugene. About the capacitors. About the King's orders."
Alex's face darkened. "Then Eugene is deeper in this than we thought."
"Eugene is deeper in this than anyone thought." Leximus stood. "But it doesn't matter. The extraction is tomorrow. We follow the plan. We get Sheila out. We disappear."
"And Eugene?"
Leximus was quiet for a long moment.
"Eugene can wait."
That night, Leximus didn't sleep.
He lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling, the water stains blurring in the darkness. The Pen was in his hand, the golden tip warm against his palm. The Coin was on his chest, rising and falling with his breath.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, I see her again.
Tomorrow, I save her or die trying.
He thought of Sheila—her face, blurred by memory, but still there. Her voice, faded, but still audible. He thought of the last time he had seen her, her small hand in his, her eyes still bright yellow and her hair flowing pink.
I'm coming, he thought. I'm coming, and I'm not leaving without you.
The cold inside him pulsed.
I am the possibility that remains.
He closed his eyes.
He didn't dream.