Shadow Slave: The Sound of Glass

After Marx had left, Waynie decided to steal a few precious hours of sleep. He rarely had the luxury, and last night had been no different. He could go without rest for days when necessary, but there was no pressing reason to push himself now. Better to seize the opportunity while he had it. He had no way of knowing when the next would come. Besides, the presence of the Fortress of the Mourning Saint gnawed at his senses, leaving him lightheaded and uneasy.

When he woke, his shards trembled. The subtle vibrations coursed through the bed, distorting their resonance into an indistinct hum. Groggy, he sat up, gathering the shards into his hands. The melody they wove sharpened.

Eight people. Numerous corrupted.

Then, voices. His gaze flicked toward the window. Outside, a squad of Ki Song soldiers stood at attention. One of them turned his head sharply in Waynie's direction, and he instinctively flattened himself against the wall. His pulse quickened.

Were they here for him?

Straining his ears, he tried to make out their conversation.

"…He's walking like a monkey! You can't have possibly missed him. That guy with the chandeliers stands out like a bull in a memory shop."

Waynie's brow twitched. Were they talking about him? They had to be. And what in the world was a 'monkey'?

"We have our own problems right now," another authoritative voice cut in, sharper. "We can't be asked to look after your soldiers as well."

It was Master Skyworld., the Mourning battalion's overseer. The other Awakened Waynie did not know. But he bore the insignia of the capital. Maybe Marx would know.

"How is the Asphor project going? Did you achieve what the matriarch was asking?"

Skyworld's posture stiffened. Even without seeing her face, Waynie could tell she bristled at the question. "That is none of your business. What we do here for Ki Song, we do for Ki Song. An Awakened should know their station. Even one from Ravenheart."

The soldier exhaled, clearly impatient. The hounds at his sides stirred, letting out uneasy groans.

"That won't be necessary," he said. "But just to be clear, we know he went into your territory. If this isn't resolved within the next days, Beastmaster will arrive, and then you'll be answering to her."

Skyworld's lips parted slightly, as if to protest, then snapped shut. Whatever she said next, Waynie couldn't hear it. But the tension in her stance spoke volumes. She didn't like this.

The soldiers from Ravenheart turned on their heels and dispersed from the camp.

Wa1ynie released a slow breath.

Were they truly gone? Or was this only a temporary reprieve? Should he relocate? Was it safe to move outside?

No. Not yet. The best option was to wait.

Later, when the camp quieted, he took the opportunity to explore the castle's interior.

The main hall had been repurposed, its hexagonal structure transformed into a war camp. Rows of soldier's tents lined the space, tattered banners marking their allegiance to the Mourning Clan. The air carried the scent of metal, damp stone, and burning resin from the torches mounted to the walls.

Most of the rooms were occupied by Awakened soldiers, stationed here for war. But in one chamber, he encountered another Master. A woman draped in the colors of the Mourning Clan, though the insignia of Ravenheart rested against her chest as well.

An Fai. No surname. No true name.

Waynie hesitated. He had no intention of drawing attention, but she had already seen him standing outside her door. She regarded him with a detached, assessing gaze—unthreatening, yet unreadable.

He remembered why he had come here in the first place. The original plan had been to make contact with Clan Anvil, possibly even arrange for an extradition. Was there still a way? Could this woman help?

If she intended harm, walking away wouldn't change the outcome.

So he entered.

Inside, her quarters were spartan. A single lantern flickered against the stone walls. A table sat in the center, a set of cards spread across its surface. An Fai wordlessly gestured to the seat opposite her and began shuffling.

"What are we playing?" Waynie asked, eyeing the cards.

"An old game," she said. "Do you have money?"

He dug into his pocket, fingers brushing against thick paper. When he pulled it out, his stomach sank. It wasn't money. It was the contract. The binding terms of his debt to the company.

An Fai raised a brow. "I don't particularly want to play for your servitude." Had she gazed that much just from pulling it out of his pocket?

Waynie quickly tucked the papers away and fished out actual currency. "Nah. Just had to get those out of the way."

Amusement flickered in her dark eyes. She dealt two cards each.

"You guys play a lot of games here?" he asked.

She nodded. "There's little else to do on guard duty. Visitors are a welcome distraction. There aren't many guests coming these days."

"What do you mean?"

An Fai leaned back in her chair, tapping a finger idly against her card. "Most Awakened are drafted, a lot are dead. The ones too weak to fight are the only ones left in the city. And they wouldn't make the journey out of Ravenheart."

A shadow passed over Waynie's face. "Are there many masters here right now?"

"There are actually about." She paused, then smirked a little, holding her cards in front of her face. "I really shouldn't tell you this, since it's vital security data."

"I can guess it myself. There is you, Skyworld and the lady of the tower, so three probably."

"We're actually five. But if Anvil's forces attack this place, we have other means of defense."

"Would you be able to defend against Lady Nephis?"

An Fai snorted. "Of course not. The entire region is essentially defenseless and abandoned. You know that, you've been out there."

"For what it's worth I have hardly met any Nightmare Creatures."

"The queen has created a tight net of the undying who keep most of the citadels save for now. But this might change, when the war in Godgrave heats up."

He considered his next words carefully. Declaring his true purpose outright was foolish. He needed to keep pretending to be a soldier.

"Don't tell anyone else," he said in a lower voice. "But I'm here investigating a new weapon Anvil might use against us."

An Fai gave no reaction at first. She studied him, weighing his words. Finally, she set her cards down. "You're a spy after all."

Waynie nodded. "I'm looking for someone from Anvi, anyone really to interrogate."

"You're in luck. We captured two last week," she admitted. "But they're already in Ravenheart. In a few days, they'll be moved to the front lines."

'Not helpful.' Waynie couldn't return to Ravenheart, not while Beastmaster's people were still looking for him. For whatever reason they were after him.

"I don't think I can go there right now," he said, voice cautious. "Do you know of anyone else?"

An Fai arched a brow but didn't press for details. "Two months ago, I saw an Anvil soldier at a gambling hall in the territory of the Shaken Fist clan."

Waynie frowned. "Shaken Fist?"

"A vassal of Ki Song," she explained. "Unpleasant people. They thrive on extortion and fraud, but as long as they pay, Ki Song lets them be. The Mourning Clan has trouble with them often. But there is nothing we can do. They run a casino at the border. If that soldier's still alive, there's a good chance he's still there."

Waynie hesitated. "Is it safe?"

"Relatively," she said with a small smirk. "Just don't take any loans."

There were two and a half days left for Marx to return to the Barren Fortress. Waynie decided not to waste any more time and travel to the Shaken Fist clan. The trip took him one and a half days. So, he would end up a little late when Marx returned.

A man was standing in front of the door without a shirt, his hair short and bleached, his skin tanned in molten brown. He had no insignia.

"You bow to Ki Song?" Waynie tried to identify if he was friendly.

The stranger smirked defiantly. "Everybody bows to Ki Song! But congratulations, by coming into this territory, you just stepped out of her domain."

"So that means, if I kill you, there won't be any zombies attacking me?"

"Zombies?" The stranger laughed. "That is exactly right."

"But tell me, doorkeeper, how many others will I have to kill if I kill you first?"

"About a dozen. Too many masters for you to handle."

"Is there an Anvil soldier in here trapped?"

"Nobody is trapped in here, it's a gambling establishment. People just have to pay their debts."

"But an Anvil soldier is in here?"

"What's it to you?"

"I hail from Ravenheart. I serve in the Song army. I need to talk to the prisoner."

"Eat dirt. Nobody is a prisoner. And you only come inside if you bet on something."

"What do I need to bet on?"

"If you have no money, you can bet on your flaw."

"On my flaw?"

"Yes, if you lose the bet, you have to reveal your flaw. If you win, I'll let you inside."

"What's the game?"

"A shell game."

Waynie frowned. "I think I'm gonna pass." He didn't like gambling. But he also didn't like bullying the weak. The man in front of him was a master, about the same age as him, but he was clearly not fully adjusted to his new body yet. In the second nightmare, people took on the shapes of other people, sometimes other creatures, and a few seemed to struggle to readjust to their human form later. The man in front of him seemed to think that Waynie's strange style of walking was the result of a similar disability. And that therefore the two would have been on a similar scale of power. But in reality, Waynie had been on the path to transcendence and had just decided to pull back. When his old cohort would come back, they would be all saints. Boss would be a saint. He would be the only one left behind. But Waynie would continue to be one of the strongest masters in his generation. As long as nobody got to injure him. And right now, it would have seemed unfair to just kill the man in front of him just because he wasn't strong enough to save his own life.

Waynie sighed and leaned forward slightly, his grin growing lazy. "I am warning you once. I do not like to be threatened or intimidated, and I react to that always very hostile. But I will give you one chance to survive. Let me inside."

The doorkeeper tensed, assessing the situation. Then, with a reluctant nod, he stepped aside. "You're with the Song army. Understood." He opened the door.