Vernisha didn’t think she had ever felt so angry. So revenge-hungry. In that moment, she couldn’t think of anything else but killing that man.

  Her fingers quivered, grasping at the air. No one responded to her demand, so she shouted again, “Where is he?!”

  Abella looked at her, partially confused. “Who is this ‘Yanson’?”

  Vernisha pointed at Lo’jul's corpse, as if the answer were right in front of them. “The one who killed him!”

  She looked at them all with wide, frantic eyes. “Someone must’ve seen something. Must’ve!”

  Ferzan entered the conversation, speaking in a gentle tone. “He was thrown inside... But what does this Yanson want with you? I could get rid of him with ease.”

  Abella frowned and turned back to the corpse. “This demon he speaks of—is that you?”

  Vernisha didn’t bother answering. Demon was just a word—an expression of hatred and fear.

  Her eyes drifted back to the bleeding warning. He knew secrets. But... how?

  And that Balash thing—how the hell did he know it? It didn’t make any sense. But that only made her wonder what else he knew.

  Could he have known about her seal, her healing aura, or something worse?

  Ferzan asked again, “Vernisha? Who is this guy?”

  She took a deep breath and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it myself.”

  Abella said nothing. Tarnisha merely stared at the warning, especially the Balash part, her expression unreadable.

  Sundawn’s Law Keepers arrived about thirty minutes later. For the most part, Vernisha stayed calm, standing quietly, staring at Lo’jul’s body.

  But when she saw what the police of this world arrived in, anger bubbled back up.

  Pulled by green lizards with yellow claws and black-striped backs were carriages painted black and blue.

  On their sides: a black sphere with a blue triangle inside it. In the center of the triangle was an emblem of a red cracked circle, and the words:

  LAW KEEPERS printed over the triangle.

  Ether-powered vehicles existed, she reminded herself. Not many people could afford them due to fuel costs, sure, but they existed.

  Oil wasn't common in this world, and Terrafall had virtually none, but there were still oil-powered vehicles.

  Yet… yet… the fucking government couldn’t subsidize vehicles for their own law force?

  The Law Keepers stepped out of the carriages and began asking questions. Others wore latex gloves and used mark-stones to capture images of the scene.

  Vernisha almost wondered if the company behind mark-stones had some exclusive deal with the government. At least these ones had proper lens augments, long and rounded.

  Then she heard one of them say, “See that scorch? On his head?

  “Vanquisher’s torture weapon. We have to move the case to them—let them handle their own.”

  A younger one replied, “Really? So his brain is...”

  The man nodded. “Scrambled eggs. Probably a rogue Vanquisher, or a weapon’s backdoor in that agency.”

  Scrambled... eggs.

  The man peeled off his glove. “Either way, no more work for us. Contact them. Just say it’s a Vlandos case. They’ll take over.”

  Ferzan stood near her, arms folded. “Vanquishers will find him in no time. It’s not a sensitive case—you’ll know when he’s found and tried.”

  Vernisha reached up and grabbed her short hair in frustration. “I want him dead, Ferzan. Not tried. Not by anyone else’s hands.”

  Why hadn’t Terlin gotten rid of him? Could he have tried, and failed?

  One of the Law Keepers leaned lazily against a carriage, not a care in the world.

  Vernisha approached her. Ferzan followed. She’d probably know something.

  The woman noticed them, then placed the newspaper she was reading on the green lizard’s back and stood upright.

  Her waist-length, dark blue shirt had a couple of blood stains on it, which clashed with her otherwise clean and brand-new-looking black skirt.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Ferzan Starworth,” she said, gently tugging at her skirt as if it didn’t already cover her knees.

  Ferzan nodded. Vernisha’s eyes fell on the newspaper.

  Clash Between Knight and Insane Vanquisher Leaves Family Café in Flames — All Inside Killed, including the Knight.

  She understood instantly.

  He died fighting Yanson. He died because of a lie. Because she had manipulated him.

  Damn it. She should’ve had a better plan. But she couldn’t swear off manipulation. It was second nature to her.

  But if Yanson could kill someone stronger and more experienced than her… what chance did she have?

  She asked, “The... wife. She’s safe?”

  The woman nodded. “Yes.”

  Vernisha didn’t show any reaction, but it was good to know she wasn’t harmed.

  Still, emotional pain was worse than physical. She knew that better than anyone. Her neck had been torn, her stomach blasted through, and she hadn’t cried, hadn’t dreamed about it.

  But she had killed herself because she was depressed. Empty. She didn’t even need to recall the recent wounds—those still hurt.

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  When the wife found out about Lo’jul, she would be devastated.

  And there was nothing Vernisha could do to stop that.

  Ferzan asked the woman, “I assume she’s in protective custody?”

  “Well, no. Not yet. Once we return to Sundawn, we’ll arrange it.”

  Vernisha frowned. “Why? You have communicators.”

  The woman hesitated, uncomfortable. “Budget... We have strict protocols on when to use communicators. In this case, unless there’s an immediate threat, or a delay would put her in danger, we aren’t authorized to use one.”

  Vernisha couldn’t believe it. She scoffed.

  She picked up the newspaper. “The man who killed the knight. Any update? Or are you not allowed to say?”

  The woman glanced at Ferzan, then back at Vernisha. “Well... he doesn’t seem to be in the city. But I wouldn’t really know. It’s out of our jurisdiction. The Vanquishers would know, but you’re not getting anything out of them.”

  “I see.”

  Ferzan tapped her shoulder, opening a communication line. She accepted.

  He offered to handle it—quick and clean.

  She rejected the proposal. She would do it herself.

  Yanson had said more would die if she got help. She assumed the wife, whose name she still didn’t know, would be first. Maybe the only one.

  She didn’t know how he would know. But she was sure he had ways.

  As far as she was concerned, these Law Keepers were bugged.

  Ferzan gave her a strange look. She didn’t care.

  She extended her fist. “Mon. I’m going to need it.”

  When she had returned from the city after meeting Yanson, she had traded Mon out for Aquaren.

  “You’ll get yourself killed.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He stood still.

  What the hell was his problem? It wasn't like she was asking for a monster that belonged to him.

  Her fist clenched and unclenched. That rage she was trying to bury was refusing to stay in the dirt. She started to wonder if she had a temper, or if the world just kept giving her reasons to be pissed off.

  She said again, “Mon.”

  He didn't react.

  She took a breath and spun around. Aquaren had a decent enough nose.

  Vernisha could trace any lingering scent on Lo’jul’s body and work from there.

  Ferzan said, “Your other monsters lack tracking abilities.”

  “Aquaren.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  Vernisha’s jaw clenched. If he knew that, then why the hell was he acting like this?

  So many nasty thoughts spun in her mind, and they all danced on the tip of her tongue.

  But she kept control. Mostly. She didn’t need another argument.

  “You know what? Keep it. He wants me. He’ll come for me,” she said, turning toward the tracks leading to Sundawn.

  But before she could leave, Ferzan stepped in front of her.

  “Move,” she said.

  She didn’t even look him in the face—just stared at his torso like it was glass.

  “Go rest, Vernisha.”

  “Move!” she screamed, catching everyone’s attention.

  Abella had her arms crossed, a hand to her forehead, looking like she had a migraine. She barely glanced at them.

  Katie and Tarnisha were both watching. Katie looked nervous, moving toward Vernisha, but Tarnisha held her back.

  “Go inside. Sleep.”

  That rage Vernisha had tried to bury seized her chest.

  Her heart thudded with fury. Her breath grew heavy. “Who the hell do you think you are, Ferzan?”

  “Go inside”? Rest? What, do I look like some fucking prisoner to you? Do you see a slave handle on my ear?

  He said nothing.

  “Do you see one?!” she demanded.

  She continued, growing angrier by the second, “You want to dictate how I react to this? What I do?”

  She wanted to punch that perfect, calm face of his.

  “Go inside," he responded apathetically.

  “You can’t even talk to me. Can’t have a damn conversation.”

  “What should I do then? Let you run into obvious bait? How the hell does that make sense to you?” His voice cracked—anger rising.

  “For real?” Vernisha scoffed. “We’ve known each other for days, and you think you’re my handler? What the fuck?”

  She’d had enough.

  She stepped back, twisted her hip, and hurled a punch—

  Not at him.

  At the ground.

  Her fist slammed down, and the dirt cracked like it was made of glass.

  Everyone froze in confusion for a moment—then a four-winged white and crimson bird with glowing red eyes exploded out of the soil, soaring skyward.

  Ferzan’s eyes widened. Shock? Betrayal? It didn’t matter.

  Because the next second, red and white feathers rained down like a storm.

  Vernisha jumped over the hole, and the dirt collapsed under her feet.

  Her clothes tore and muddied as she raced through the tunnel.

  It twisted hard left. Then zigzagged like a rabid snake.

  Forwing caught up and merged with her. Vernisha shifted her focus entirely to Melorpion.

  Would Ferzan give up?

  Then she heard something—like crickets mixed with rushing water.

  She didn’t trust her eyes.

  She felt them—thick, heavy tentacles rushing toward her.

  Then suddenly, they stopped moving and began to compress, becoming swollen.

  Liquid dribbled from the mouths of the tentacles—a very light liquid, lighter than water.

  Vernisha had no intention of waiting for it to finish. She released Forwing for a split second, just long enough to clap her ears and activate [Sonic Screech] at regular power.

  The pain hit her before the sound did. Her ears throbbed from the shockwave, then everything went silent.

  The tentacles throbbed, but… they weren’t affected.

  Vernisha absorbed Forwing again to conserve her mind.

  The tentacles squeezed out their liquid, and she immediately felt the weight—like a massive river had suddenly surged into the tunnel.

  Create a steep tunnel, she ordered.

  Melorpion obeyed, shifting from digging down to digging up. It was much farther ahead of her, so it was going to take a while for her to—

  Shit.

  The massive stream of liquid was closing in on her at ridiculous speed, and she could smell it too.

  Like… roses. It smelled nice. Too nice.

  Her tense muscles relaxed, and suddenly all she wanted was to slow down and reach it.

  The liquid touched her neck, and she instantly felt tired.

  She wanted to sleep. Really, really badly. Why was she trying to run?

  No.

  Vernisha stabbed herself in the face with her dagger and screamed in pain.

  She’d seen this in fiction—inflicting pain to break mental control.

  But, to her extreme disappointment, this wasn’t fiction.

  Her body felt weightless. Her eyes began to close. And then, suddenly, the flood solidified.

  The drowsiness paused. The hardened liquid cracked, then shattered into tiny shards.

  Blood ran down her face, and the pain was severe. But Vernisha couldn’t help wondering: if Ferzan stopped the assault because of her scream, what kind of monster would he send next?

  Would he be able to tell the difference between a real cry of pain and a fake one? She wouldn’t have been surprised if he could.

  It didn't matter; she would just keep stabbing herself until he fucked off.

  Ferzan stood a fair distance from the hole, unable to ease his frown.

  Falling Stream wasn’t supposed to hurt her. So what the hell was that scream?

  Was forty percent too much power? It should’ve just put her to sleep—not drowned her, or made her feel like she was drowning.

  But that wasn’t a panic scream.

  That was pain.

  He sighed and shook his head, then lifted his finger toward the blue Tentaking floating above him.

  It had no tentacles on its main body, despite having the form of an octopus. Its triangular head was riddled with endless holes—ear-like cavities.

  It sucked in its tentacles, turned white, and dissolved into his seal.

  Ferzan could send a monster that phased through earth.

  But he chose something else.

  He needed to get rid of this killer before he reached her. He needed speed.

  Tentaking hadn’t smelled anything from Lo’jul’s corpse—so the bastard was smart enough to cover his tracks.

  Ferzan could’ve used a darkness-type monster, but he’d never liked those. And he was in the presence of Law Keepers.

  Even Starlights had rules they were forced to follow.

  So Ferzan sat down and prayed to Wanda.

  This was the fourth time he’d made a request in a single week. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that was going to piss her off—probably even more than it had two nights ago.

  But he didn’t pray for a divine favor this time. He planned to speak with her directly. Maybe she’d agree if he made the request in person.

  Minutes passed.

  Then...

  Everything faded into darkness.

  “Wan—I mean, First Mother?”

  “She does not wish to speak to you at the moment. She warned you not to make any more requests.”

  In the vast black space, a star pulsed. “This is not how you treat your First Mother.”

  Oh… crap, Ferzan thought.

  “It’s not a reques—”

  “The desires of your heart can’t be hidden from her. You should know that.”

  It had worked in the past. Probably because she hadn’t cared back then.

  “I have to go.”

  “You’ll go nowhere,” the star said, glowing more intensely. “Not until she decides to speak with you.”

  “I have an emergency!”

  “You. Shall. Go. Nowhere.”

  The yellow light erupted, blasting outward like a supernova, drowning everything in radiant gold. The darkness didn’t just vanish—it was obliterated, torn apart by divine brilliance.

  Ferzan couldn’t see his hands. His body. Even his thoughts felt like they were burning.

  There was no ground. No space. No self.

  There was only star light, and it demanded everything.