"Yes, Triol is my brother."

  Vale shifted uncomfortably, avoiding both of their gazes. Shiver and Caledon glared at the girl as she idly fiddled with her Phobia, her disgust of it forgotten.

  "So, he was one of the “servants” sent to do your father’s bidding."

  Caledon watched on, fascinated by the exchange. For one, this was further confirmation that House Revenant was still standing. It meant that House Brimstone had not eradicated the Deathbringer and his house as they had claimed.

  The next point of fascination was the fact that Vale was a lady from said house. He supposed he should have put the connection together, when he saw them share the same lavender eyes and cloak, trimmed in darksilver.

  "Yes. He serves my father. I’m certain that my father has ordered him to capture me. Treat him like an enemy."

  "You don’t have to tell me twice, my lady."

  Vale winced at Shiver’s sardonic response.

  "So. Where is a girl to find a place to have a good night’s sleep in this Feardamned city?"

  Shiver’s eyes carried a deadly glint, as they met Vale’s own.

  "We can’t be forgetting why we came here. We need to descend."

  Vale walked further into the temple, examining its interior. The awakening chamber was right beside the temple entrance, with the mural bordering the area. Further in, was a corridor leading to a strange fountain.

  She came to a halt before an intricate statute.

  It depicted a woman, with minuscule floating shards that coalesced from her back to form a pair of wings brought in front of her face, to conceal it. They defied gravity as they hung suspended behind her, glinting as they caught the light of the temple. It looked suspiciously like the woman in her dream.

  Shiver strode up to it, and peaked behind the wings.

  Nope, not her.

  Then she looked down at the foot of the statute, watching as the black substance that emerged during the awakening period receded into a deep pool at the foot of the statue.

  Then, they heard a click.

  The wall adjacent to the statue rumbled as it began to rise, revealing a very convenient hidden passage leading from the temple. Vale exclaimed in excitement.

  "Exactly what I thought! Newly awakened Fearshapers are unstable and the temple’s creators must have had some means of ushering the awakened somewhere safe, and away from the city’s populus… Not to mention… the academy that Pevir mentioned. This tunnel must lead in its direction!"

  "No, wait! I have a plan!"

  Shiver’s eyes, as well as the eyes of her companions, fell to the ice cube and wishbone at their feet. They were engrossed in private, conspiratorial discussion.

  ---

  Triol Revenant waited outside of the temple’s secret exit, from which he expected his sister and her companions to emerge.

  The exit tunnel led to a cliff face, which provided an excellent view of the fabled Academy of Anhedonia.

  The same academy supposedly responsible for a renaissance in Fearshaping, heralding generations of Fearshapers who reached the very depths of their Fear, finding peace.

  Serenity.

  Where then, were those Fearshapers?

  Scarce few remained, concentrated only in the four noble houses – Brimstone, Flora, Dreamer and Revenant.

  Triol had his doubts about the veracity of those claims – no doubt some were hyperbolic.

  Yet, the academy’s image alone would have led him to question those doubts.

  The academy looked more like a palace than a school for Fearshapers, sporting wide, circular courtyards that extended outwards from a main structure.

  The academy proper was a pale white, with an enormous dome roof. Multiple silver “suns” hung overhead, illuminating the academy and its courtyards. It was perpetually surrounded by a calm, cold wind which seemed to originate from within. When Triol had first glimpsed it, the sight had struck him speechless. From the outside, it looked like it was frozen in time.

  He recalled the moment his father had granted him three gifts in exchange for assuming his post in the Archcity of Fear.

  The first gift, and the least of them, had been the dagger forged in Brimstone. It was beautiful in its artistry, but ultimately trivial.

  The second, and what he had longed for the most, was the gift of Fearshaping. Awakening in the very same temple that his sister had entered. It was how he knew of the secret tunnel. His father had permitted his access to the academy, which had catered to his every need in his descent through Anhedonia.

  Beyond Anhedonia…

  He turned to Pevir Veringold, the stout archaeologist from Brimstone, who stood beside him.

  Within him, resided the third and last of his father’s gifts.

  Brought to him after his awakening as a Fearshaper of death, with a mastery over beasts.

  Pevir’s eyes were bereft of light, but he was far from dead. He watched as the elf jogged back towards the mansion that he had been investigating. As usual, he would attempt to take a route that avoided the notice of the Terrors that roamed the city.

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  Nightvipers were exceedingly convenient creatures.

  They possessed a toxin which induced memory loss and could temporarily take control of their hosts for short periods of time.

  Their host would regain lucidity in between their busts of unconsciousness, none the wiser to the parasite which resided within them, sometimes questioning how they had found themselves in a place they had no recollection of heading towards.

  The undead nightviper which resided within Pevir had conveniently allowed Triol to outsource the investigation of the Archcity to the bubbly archaeologist.

  Triol would appear before Pevir, playing the role of a fellow explorer, displaying great interest in Pevir’s recent discoveries.

  Without fail, Pevir would excitedly share any new information he had unearthed before falling into a trance, triggered by a command to the nightviper. His prior memories wiped again.

  Then, Triol would direct him to investigate a different area of the Archcity to continue the investigation. He would reunite with him, and the cycle would continue.

  While Pevir believed that he had been in the city only for short three days, it had been weeks since he had departed from Brimstone’s archaeologist’s guild.

  His gambit with the nightviper was only made possible due to the man’s generosity with the information that he encountered. Triol had taken quite the liking to him, and would see to it that he returned to Brimstone safely, once his father relieved him of his duties in Anhedonia.

  It was a shame, that he had had to exert his control over him so soon, in this instance. Wiping the man’s immediate memories of the information he had gleaned in the mansion. That was why Triol was sending him back to his old post.

  It couldn’t be helped.

  Stumbling upon his sister was a greater boon to him than any information the archaeologist could have found.

  Had Triol a spare nightviper on hand, Vale would not have escaped him as easily as she had. Unfortunately, the creatures were exceedingly rare. Though it was no surprise that his father had gotten his hands on one of them.

  At any moment now, Lord Semille and his knights would be breaching the temple entrance. He would flush them out, right into Triol’s clutches. He looked at the two undead hounds beside him, crouched and ready to do his bidding.

  Then, his concentration was broken by a familiar sight.

  A single, small crow of ivory sailed through the air.

  Triol knelt before his crow, as it came to land at his feet.

  Triol froze helplessly as his heartbeat slowed to a crawl. His limbs began to grow cold and numb, the warmth and feeling gradually ebbing away.

  It felt like his lifeblood was struggling to circulate, to provide him with succour.

  This was to be expected. He was, after all, in the presence of the Deathbringer himself.

  Vetrian Revenant. His father.

  "Highlord."

  The crow opened its beak and emitted a low, calm tone.

  "Triol. I see you’ve found your sister. You must be congratulated."

  "We have her cornered in the temple. She was accompanied by a lord from House Brimstone and another girl. Curiously, this girl seemed capable of Fearshaping even prior to her entry to the Archcity. Newly awakened, in Anhedonia, she did not call forth her Fear."

  "A lord from House Brimstone you say? How curious. First, tell me about this other girl. What was the nature of her Fearshaping?"

  "She seemed to wield daggers of frost, Highlord."

  "Fascinating. Where did this girl come from?"

  "From Brimstone, the Archcity of Flames. I believed she travelled her together with Vale."

  He heard his father break out into soft laughter.

  "A Fearshaper of ice, awakening without the aid of a temple. Accompanied by a lord from House Brimstone, no less. This works greatly in my favour… Triol. Keep me informed as to the nature of this Brimstone lord's development. This is your new assignment. It is crucial that you do so."

  Triol’s eyebrows creased in a slight frown.

  His sister was right here and his father wasn’t interested in her?

  "What is to be done with Vale?"

  Triol posed the question as casually as he could.

  His face did not betray even a hint of emotion.

  The crow abandoned its ascent. Sweat surfaced on Triol’s forehead as its beak drew closer to his face.

  "Do not impede her. Allow her to descend, as she wishes. In fact… pursue them, aid them in their descent."

  The crow twisted its head towards him.

  "Though I have no doubt that that was your intention all along. You share an admirable goal, do you not? Shared goals are always best achieved in unison, son."

  Pinpricks of void occupying the crow’s eye sockets drilled into Triol’s own. Nothing escaped his father. His motives unravelled before him.

  Then the crow fell from his shoulder, clattering to the floor.

  Triol gasped at the sudden absence of his father’s presence. The edges of his vision turned red at the backlash, the blood stilled in his veins by his father’s presence resuming its path once more.

  Free at last, from his aura of death.

  Triol fell to the floor, gasping, clutching at his chest.

  Back under his control, the crow had resumed its artificial movements, losing all of the grace that it once held in life, with his father’s departure.

  A mocking reminder of his own inadequacy.

  Perhaps it wasn’t a surprise that their father knew. As much as his sister hated to admit it, they shared the very same goal. They had simply chosen different paths to achieve it.

  Nurture me, until I become the death of you. I will never forget.

  Triol would bide his time. Delve into the depths of his Fear under the guidance of the man that he despised the most.

  For one day, he would be the dagger to still Vetrian Revenant’s cold, unbeating heart.

  ---

  Lord Semille paced outside the temple doors. It wouldn’t be long before the black liquid sealing the temple completely receded, leaving it accessible once more.

  Triol had informed him of the secret entrance within the temple, and his plan to ambush them at the other end of the passageway. All that was left was for Semille to flush them out.

  Semille grinned at the thought of ending that Feardamned orphan that had ruined his simple assignment.

  "Deliver the package to Berevan Brimstone. Do not open it. Unless you want me to poison you. Do not delay. You can do as you please after the drop-off. I’ll give you that wooden shirt you’re so excited about. Idiot son."

  That senile old woman’s instructions had been quite clear.

  A simple delivery assignment, and he would be granted his own set of the legendary armour of the Dreadwood. For now, the armour he wore was borrowed, as it continued to heal his wounds.

  One did not simply refuse Highlady Solastra Flora, the Kindly Gardener that tended to the Dreadwood, the Archcity of Life.

  Somehow, the simple assignment had turned into a wild emberhare chase that led him to another lost Archcity and an encounter with ghosts - House Revenant.

  "My lord, it appears the temple has been unsealed."

  "Yes, yes. Sweep it like Lord Triol instructed. Guard the passage entrance, we’ll catch them in a vice as they attempt to flee."

  His knights rushed in, and Semille glanced at the streets obscured by fog that bordered the temple. He would not be caught unawares again. For all that the armour protected him from injury… it did not protect his dignity.

  The smell of piss still lingered.

  His knights returned, sooner than he had expected.

  "Lord Semille. The temple is empty."

  As their lord erupted into hysterics at their incompetence, heedless of the threat of drawing Terrors, a small wishbone perched upon an ice cube raced out from the indentations in the awakening chamber.

  Taking advantage of their preoccupation, Icey and Lord Quietus shot through the fog, headed straight towards the mansion from which they had entered.

  Disappearing in the long shadows cast by the Archcity of Fear, carrying with them, all hopes of escape.

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