How do I unfuck myself from this situation?
It was the only question Lou had left. He looked at the smoking hole in his leg and then up at the two predators closing in, and for the first time, a cold, jagged doubt pierced his confidence.
He was betting his life on a vision.
He was betting everything on the woman in the black hat and the date of May 1st, 1776.
But what if that was just a nightmare? What if the system of this world didn't give him a guaranteed three-year plot armor?
Klaus's dreams always came true, but what if my death is the one exception to the rule? What if the timeline shifts because I'm not really Klaus?
The thought that he could actually die right here, unceremoniously, in a pile of trash in an underground slum, made his blood run cold.
"Grab him!" Raven-hair ordered.
Before Lou could even attempt to crawl away, the bald man's hand clamped around his throat like an iron vice.
Lou was hoisted into the air as if he weighed nothing. His boots kicked uselessly against the man's solid chest, his fingers clawing at the thick wrists as he struggled to pull a single breath into his lungs.
"Handle with care," Raven-hair warned, stepping closer and examining Lou's face. "Don't break his neck yet. We need answers out of this rat before he's of any use to the Lord."
"Answers?" the brute grunted, tightening his grip just enough to make Lou's vision turn fuzzy at the edges. "I thought we were just going to kill him."
"We are. But he's been sniffing around our Sect with that blind bitch. I want to know how much the Solace Inquisition knows. I'll squeeze the information out of him slowly. Then..."
"Then we kill him?" Baldy asked.
"No," she purred, reaching out to trail a cold finger down Lou's cheek. "Then we sacrifice him. A Seer's soul burns so much brighter when they're terrified."
Despite the pressure on his windpipe and the agonizing throb in his leg, Lou wanted to laugh.
Answers?
He'd only heard the name "Noah Dann" ten minutes ago in a carriage. He didn't know their secret handshakes, their hidden bases, or their favorite colors.
He was being tortured for information he literally didn't have.
He was a guy who'd been dragged into an investigation he didn't care about, by a woman who punched people with purple energy, all because he was trying to figure out how not to die in three years.
This is the worst script I've ever been a part of, Lou thought, his consciousness starting to flicker. If I die for a cult I don't even know, I am going to haunt William for the rest of eternity.
He looked at the woman, his eyes bloodshot and defiant. If he was going to go out, he wasn't going to go out begging.
He just needed one opening, one spark of that spirit energy Edith talked about.
"Who are you, and what do you know about the Noah Dann Sect?" Raven-hair hissed, her face inches from his.
Lou didn't answer, because he couldn't.
He was too busy grinding his teeth, his fingers digging into Baldy's iron wrists in a desperate, failing attempt to pry them open. The grip tightened, the pressure on his windpipe making his ears ring.
Lou looked down at the woman, a jagged, bloody smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Nothing much," he wheezed. "Just that you're a bunch of pathetic scum... kissing the Lord of Shadows' arse. Seems like... you're overdue for a trip to the trash."
The woman's expression turned venomous. A thin thread of shadow erupted from her own feet, coiling upward like a black, jagged snake. With a sharp flick of her wrist, the shadow lashed out, piercing through Lou's left rib cage.
Lou's scream was raw, echoing off the damp stone walls of the alley. The pain was oily and cold, spreading from the wound like poison.
"Do not blaspheme against the Lord," she spat.
"He deserves to get his neck twisted," Baldy grunted, his thumb pressing harder into Lou's throat.
"Not yet."
She flicked her wrist again. A second shadow-thread hissed through the air, burying itself in his right rib.
Lou's body went rigid, his lungs burning as he gasped for air that wouldn't come.
"Talk, rat," Raven-hair commanded. "Tell me what you and the blind bitch found. Tell me who else is watching us."
"I found out..." Lou coughed, a spray of blood hitting the woman's cheek. "I found out that if you don't kill me now... I'm going to kill you. Both of you."
Baldy let out a booming laugh. "He's a rookie. The little shit can't even use a basic technique. He's all talk and no spirit."
"You're right," Raven-hair said, wiping the blood from her face. "He's useless for information, but he'll make a fine vessel for the ritual. Russ is a lost cause anyway; he won't stand a chance against that Seer. She takes one of ours, we take one of theirs. It's a fair trade."
"So we're not going to give the old man a hand?" Baldy asked.
"He was careless. He let his artifacts be traced back to his stall. Besides, Russ knows the price of silence, he won't squeal. He's a worthy sacrifice," she said, her eyes turning toward the exit of the alley. "Knock the brat out. We need to vanish while everyone is distracted by Russ's suicide mission."
Baldy grinned. He pulled Lou in close, then snapped his head forward.
The headbutt was like a lightning strike. Lou's vision shattered into a thousand white shards.
His skull felt like it had been split by an axe, his muscles going limp as the world tilted and dissolved into a heavy, suffocating void.
Everything went black.
---------
He was drifting in a continuous, silent abyss where the pain finally started to numb.
Is this it? he thought. Is the three-year clock a lie?
But then, in the absolute center of that darkness, he felt a spark.
It was a warm, golden glow, coiling deep within his chest like a sleeping dragon finally opening its eyes.
The spark began to expand like a tidal wave of heat rushing through his veins, filling every broken bone and torn muscle with a terrifying, rhythmic pulse.
The golden light consumed Lou.
It flooded his senses in a blinding surge, drowning out the pain, the screams, and the suffocating grip on his throat until there was nothing left but a vast, endless silence.
Then, he hit the ground hard.
Lou gasped, air crashing back into his lungs. His body convulsed as he rolled onto his side, coughing violently, his hands clawing at his chest as if he expected to find his ribs crushed.
There was no pain.
This isn't right. Did I die?
Slowly, he looked down at his body.
The smoking hole in his leg was gone. The torn, shadow-burnt flesh in his ribs was smooth, as if the wounds had never existed.
Even the blood on his shirt was fading into the fabric.
"What…?"
His voice echoed too loud and too clear, vibrating through his teeth. Lou's head snapped up, his eyes widening.
The alley was gone. The mist, the smells of the Arkum District and the damp stone walls had been wiped away.
In its place stretched a world carved from liquid gold and polished glass.
The ground beneath him shimmered like a mirror, reflecting a sky that churned in slow, spiraling currents of amber and starlight.
It wasn't exactly beautiful but it felt wrong. It was too perfect, like a painting that had been stretched too far until the reality of it started to crack.
"W-what did you do?" a voice stammered.
Lou turned.
The two cult members stood several paces away, huddled together like animals caught in a wildfire.
They looked small here.
The bald man's massive frame was trembling, his muscles useless against the overwhelming radiance of the place.
The raven-haired woman was worse off; her shadows flickered weakly at her feet, dissolving into thin strands that evaporated into the air before they could even form a shape.
"No… no, this isn't possible," she whispered, her voice tight with a panic Lou had never seen on her face before. "There was no incantation, no anchor… no ritual. What did you do, boy? Where have you taken us?"