Much to her disappointment, Niel is too tired and absorbed in thought to go with Illia to the glade that evening. What Brock told him earlier weighs on his mind. How does he start this conversation with Voltaire? Niel is in his room and the thief is across the hall in his, both waiting for their turn with the bathroom. It's as simple as going over to Voltaire and saying something. What does he say? How will Voltaire react? Why is this so difficult? Niel takes a deep breath and closes his journal. He'll just try to put his doubts to the side and let his actions guide him.

  "What?" Voltaire questions grumpily after opening his room door. He's still unhappy and dissatisfied with how their sparring match went.

  "I want to talk to you about something," Niel says tentatively, his arms crossed with discomfort.

  "Yeah? What?" Voltaire repeats impatiently. Despite this impatience and the annoyance brought earlier that day, he politely shuts the door behind Niel after he enters. Niel tries to speak his mind, but again the nerves make him hesitate and lower his gaze. Voltaire isn't going to wait forever. It's best to just swallow his fear and be out with it.

  "I was thinking about switching from Muay Thai to judo."

  "No." The thief's disapproval is as swift as it is sharp.

  "Why?"

  "We had a deal."

  "I know we had a deal. That's why I'm talking to you about this instead of just switching suddenly." Maybe transparency will lighten Voltaire's thinking?

  "You're not switching."

  Or not. "Again, why?"

  "Because I don't want you to switch!"

  Voltaire's increase in volume is a clear indicator that Niel is really testing his already fragile patience. "You're not the only one who's allow to make a choice. I was considering doing judo over Muay Thai because it looks more interesting to me. I told Brock this, and he told me to talk to you about it."

  "What did you tell him!?"

  "Yell any louder, and you'll get Mabel and Gabriel up here!" Niel shout-whispers back as a spooked chill runs through his body—no hurried footsteps tell him they're in the clear. He wanted to be transparent and show Voltaire it's not just him who thinks this, but maybe that was a bad call. "All I told him was that I went with you as a deal."

  Voltaire is NOT happy about ANY of this. The betrayal on his face is as palpable as the rage crackling between his fingers.

  "Get out," the thief demands, ready to force him away at the slightest resistance.

  "Fine. I'll stay in Muay Thai," Niel capitulates with an irritated sigh. He knew this conversation was going to go exactly like this. It'll only bring more conflict if he doesn't cave, so he'll just keep the peace and make the most of things. Voltaire still needs to be monitored, anyway.

  The next three weeks seem to drag on for the boys after this. Each new day is another step closer to when Voltaire will face his parents again, and another day of longing as Niel spends more and more of his free time researching judo. Though Brock doesn't see much of a change from Niel, he knows that, with him still here, his talk with Voltaire didn't go well. On the other hand, Voltaire is noticeably different and distant. Brock and Nathan don't know if it's stress in his life or frustration with Niel, but he's acting like how he did when they first joined, and Nathan pulls him aside somewhat regularly to chat one-on-one. As much as he wants to do judo instead, Niel stays in Muay Thai to keep the thief calm, even abandoning the idea of attending the free class he gets as a new member to the discipline. At least staying is helping him learn kicks better, and he never considered elbow strikes before joining, either, so it's not all bad.

  Illia's birthday is finally here, and though it likely isn't her real birthday or that she's truly seventeen, it is her one-year anniversary of being in the home. Though birthday gifts have proven troublesome in the past, picking out a gift this time is, for once, not a difficult choice. She's a varied hobbyist and a keen collector of many toys and trinkets, and particularly as of late, Mabel has had the pleasure of teaching her how to watercolour. Once everyone is around the kitchen table that late afternoon, Illia unwraps a small package of waterbrush pens, a compact pallet of watercolour paints, and a watercolour sketchbook—her name painted on the cover with love by Mabel. Not only that, but as she's been venturing to the glade quite a lot with Niel, she is also gifted a small backpack to carry her art supplies and a few other choice items she may wish to take. Though she doesn't voice her glee, her expression and the tight hugs she gives her newfound family more than make up for it.

  With nothing happening after supper apart from watching the birthday girl enjoy her gift, Niel is content to wind down on the couch or with a game in Reed's room. However, an unlikely someone has another idea.

  "Can we go for a walk?" Voltaire asks the lazing Niel. It's rare for the thief to ask him for anything, let alone so politely. There's still daylight left for a short walk. How can he say no?

  Voltaire's sigh gets caught in the cold December air as they venture through the nearby district. Though it's not fully dusk yet, the sun hangs low enough to cast their shadows long beneath them. Niel glances up at the streetlights—they're soon to awaken, and that will be their cue to return. The thief's footsteps are as heavy as the hearing in his mind. Two days. He faces the people that ruined him in two days from now. Niel wants to say something but he doesn't know what. Voltaire spoke with Medova again today, hopefully he's learning how to cope from her. Maybe that's why he was the one to initiate their walk this time around.

  As they walk on in silence, Niel notices through his Dust that someone is tailing them. It's not just a random passerby—the pair have been taking random turns, and around each they were followed. Niel can even trace the stalker's pupils to their backs. A pistol lays concealed in his waistband; there's no way this isn't Invictus. Niel disables it to take no chances.

  "Do NOT look," Niel says lowly to Voltaire, "Someone is following us."

  "The hell?"

  Niel pulls out his phone to chart a path. One by one, the streetlights begin to turn on around them. They can't go home yet. Not until they shake themselves loose.

  "Shit, ahead of us," Voltaire warns, pointing Niel's attention to a man loitering at the approaching corner. He's pretending to not be watching them, but in his sleeve is his phone with the camera pointed right at them. Another pistol in his waistband and a knife close to his hand confirms his affiliation. Dust disables this gun, too, and when the same is done to the phone, the thug's reaction is a dead giveaway that they were indeed being filmed. Niel hides his face in preparation for the worst. Voltaire's heart pounds in his throat.

  They hurriedly cross the street and dart through an alley to get away as their tails pick up the pace behind them. But each turn they make and each path they commit to, there's always someone new to cut them off and force them to divert. They're being funnelled into a kill box. After being forced down another alley, Niel and Voltaire are left standing back-to-back as ten thugs with guns surround them, help nowhere to be found.

  "The Electric Mute Thief," a thug in his thirties says—Niel presumes him the leader of this squadron. Wait... he looks familiar. Is he that man they saw in the café not too long ago? He addresses Niel next. "Too bad you got caught up in this; can't have witnesses. Maybe if you—"

  "If you're going to do something, shut the fuck up and do it already," Niel interrupts defiantly. It's getting late, so it's better to just hurry things along so they can go home. These pissants don't stand a chance against him anyway, not with broken guns and no way to summon reinforcements. However, it's not just him here. Voltaire is nowhere near as adept at fighting as he is, so he needs to protect the thief at all costs, all while concealing his Dust from everyone involved. This may be more dangerous than he initially gave it credit for.

  "Anyone who fucks with us is a dead man," a different thug threatens.

  Niel sees through his Dust that Voltaire is trembling with fear and adrenaline. A nickel blade sits firmly in his hand, but Niel reassures him that all will be well and gets him to dispel it. If any of these thugs go to the hospital for knife wounds and claim it was Voltaire who attacked them, it'll only bring more trouble. They might skip on the trip with lesser wounds, since they're all likely wanted by the law and wouldn't want to risk being identified.

  Clearly tired of waiting around, a thug aims his gun with an off-centre cant and pulls the trigger, but all he gets are the clicks of a broken hammer. Others join in the defunct firing squad and find their guns have all met the same fate, too. Not even racking the slide half a dozen times works. A knife gets pulled and Voltaire is bracing to defend with his Mute, but the blade is broken off the handle by an unseen Dust force. With no weapons left (or allowed by Niel) to use, the ten thugs approach with the plan to simply beat the two to death.

  Voltaire watches in shock as Niel comes down on the thugs like a landslide, throwing jabs, haymakers, kicks, and throws with incredible speed and power. Each attack that is launched at him gets redirected or dodged like he saw it coming before the assailant even thought to move. As the Dark Mute boy throws himself over one thug to savagely elbow another, Voltaire realizes he has his own problems to worry about as two thugs try to sucker punch him. After dodging and landing a cross against the jaw of one, he pulls the other into a clinch, shocks him to loosen him up, follows up with a forceful knee to the stomach, and then knocks him to the ground with an elbow strike of his own. The thief turns to the other thug expecting to have to block an attack, but it looks like he was being tied up by whatever Niel's Mute is, giving him the chance to land free hits and finish off the other thug.

  Meanwhile, Niel is keeping up his own assault. Dust telegraphs a wild swing from a grunt, so he captures the arm and bends it behind the thug's back, kicks his legs out so he topples back, and then knees him in the back of the head, all in one fluid motion. Another gets picked up and slammed against the ground hard with a thud and a yelp. Behind him, Niel spies someone fishing a broken bottle from a dumpster to use against him. No matter. He'll just pretend not to see him, lure him in, and...

  "Niel!"

  Suddenly, Voltaire jumps in the way of him and the bottle, arm cased in nickel and raised to defend. Is he... protecting him? The bottle shatters against the metal and Niel is sure to safeguard the thief from flying shards. The impact combined with his shoddy footing is enough to lower Voltaire to his hands and feet, but he's able to spin himself around to kick their bottled assailant behind the knee while Niel also kicks him square in the chest—this combined assault more than enough to put the man on his back and knock the wind out of him.

  Voltaire stands back and surveys the carnage of bodies. Niel can do all of this? The pair is almost ready to make a run for it, but the hammering of footsteps in front and behind give them pause. Despite Niel hammering out their phones, Invictus backup has arrived to set them back to square one. Voltaire winces at a pain in his hand. What do they do now?

  "I'm calling it," Niel says to himself, seeing the thief's pain as enough reason to exfil. To the shock of everyone else in the alley, the nearby dumpster explodes as garbage envelops and blinds them all like a suburban tornado. Instead of running, Niel decides to try something he theorized was possible, but never attempted on a person.

  In the trash-blind, Voltaire can't see a thing. Why did Niel do this? They were handling themselves just fine. Suddenly, he feels Niel place a hand on his shoulder, and then he's being dropped into... where? It was solid ground beneath them. Did Niel open a hole underneath them? But, why can't he feel the ground anymore? It's so dark, he can't see a thing past his own limbs.

  "So I can do this," Niel comments with a combination of surprise and intrigue.

  "Do what?"

  It's then Voltaire realizes they're not in the dark—the world is. All around him. He and Niel are illuminated, but the surrounding space is black as charcoal—if there even is space around them. Flashes resonate deep beneath his feet like lightning obscured in a storm cloud. That abyss below gives him the creeps. It feels like something... giant... is watching him from down there, beyond the darkness. Most astonishingly of all, above them sits a plane or a window, some kind of looking glass as expansive as the sky, peering out to the world above from a worm's eye view.

  "What is this place?" Voltaire asks in such sheer awe, he clenches his fists to check if he's truly awake, or if he was knocked unconscious in the fight before.

  Niel leans back until his body is parallel to the mirror of the world, and like magic it starts moving. First to the side of the alley where they can see the mess of garbage and bodies below, and then up to the top of the building where they behold the light-polluted and starless evening sky.

  "My shadow," Niel answers. There's a pain on his face and in his voice. A discomfort. "A part of my Mute."

  Somehow, Niel has no issue flying within this place beneath, and he forces Voltaire to abandon his confusion in favour of showing the shadowed boy his injured hand. A smear of blood sits on the webbing between his right thumb and index finger, the location where a small object has burrowed its way inside. Voltaire can feel his pulse within it.

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  "Not only did you get hurt on my watch, but..." Niel's tone shifts softer, more considerate, more respectful, "...you got hurt trying to protect me. Let me return the favour."

  Niel places his hand just a sliver over Voltaire's. The thief can't see or feel anything out of the way, but he knows based on Niel's focus that he is indeed doing something. After a second, Voltaire feels a twinge of movement underneath his skin, and suddenly a small glass shard digs its way out with a trail of blood behind it.

  "It's out, plus the extra dirt. We'll disinfect it when we get back. Just tell Mabel you tripped or something if she sees it."

  Voltaire is deep in thought as he looks at the cleaner wound. Invictus was trying to kill him, but not only did Niel risk his safety to protect him, he also cared enough to treat him, too. When has he felt like this before? Voltaire feels... seen. Like someone finally took notice of him.

  Like someone actually cares about him.

  "So your Mute can do all this? Now I know you'd make a great thief," the thief jokes to shake off his sentimentality.

  Niel shakes his head. "I will never be that person again," he refuses passionately. Voltaire's devilish enticements to fall back on old ways were tempting, but Niel knows this is the purpose he wishes for his Dust: to help. That's who he wants to be now. If he doesn't lose sight of that, then maybe redemption is possible for him yet.

  "Your loss," Voltaire says in a failed-smug tone, not expecting that level of emotion. "And, uh... thanks."

  "Anytime."

  They follow the shadows home safe and sound after this.

  >>>>>>

  One day left. The preliminary hearing is tomorrow. This fact, along with the knowledge that Invictus is looking to kill him, kept Voltaire up last night. The nerves are getting to him, and the fatigue is making it so much worse. He keeps nodding off at his desk and missing key parts of the teacher's lecture, and every time he does, he sees his parent's faces in the dark. Reed and Lydia are both here in school, but he doesn't know or trust them enough to seek them out. Not that he could while in class, anyway. When the teacher isn't looking, Voltaire sneaks a text to Mabel to come get him, saying he's not feeling well as his excuse. He just wants to be home.

  When Mabel gets his text, she's immediately dubious of his authenticity. He could just want to skip school like he tried to do before. Ultimately, she decides to believe him based on how reserved and stressed he looked that morning, and she gets in her car alone. Voltaire is called to the office once she arrives. He's putting on a brave face in front of everyone, but that fa?ade quickly melts away once they're buckled in the car. It's the same face she saw from Adam all those years ago. She'll never forget the face of a child afraid of a parent.

  They say nothing on the way back home, but Mabel does steal glances every now and again. He just stares out of the window, head leaned against the door frame, eyes barely open. A red light forces them to stop, and he breathes a silent sigh at this. What can Mabel say to make him feel better? She doesn't know. It feels like she tried everything and all it did was overwhelm him. Or... perhaps that's why everything failed.

  No. No 'perhaps.'

  Instead of saying anything, Mabel places a hand over his, thumb under his palm. A quiet, standalone gesture, just enough to remind him he's not alone. His eyes narrow ever so slightly at this... but instead of pulling away, he curls his fingers around her thumb. Mabel smiles softly. Finally.

  Later that day, Niel and Voltaire begin packing their gear to go to the gym. Like earlier, the thief still looks very fatigued and stressed, and this shows in his forgetfulness. Voltaire is so disorganized that, by the time they need to leave, Niel has to go through his bag one last time and confirm he didn't forget anything.

  "Are you sure you want to go today? If you're too tired to go—"

  "I'm not!" Voltaire snaps, cutting Niel off. He immediately realizes what he's done and lowers his tone. "I'm fine. I don't want to sit around and do nothing."

  "...Alright."

  Later at the gym, they run into Brock and Nathan in the locker room, and each side gives their greetings. As Voltaire turns away, the other two can tell immediately that something is wrong.

  "You doing alright?" Nathan sympathetically asks Voltaire.

  "Yeah," Voltaire lies, giving it away even more. The distress on his face is palpable despite his attempts to hide it. With other people in the room, Nathan and Brock decide not to push Voltaire any further until a quieter moment presents itself.

  Wednesday means clinching, and everyone pairs up to practice. Niel is with Brock again, and Voltaire with Nathan. Though Nathan is in the zone, his partner is far from it—the repetitiveness of their training is making Voltaire autopilot and his thoughts disconnect from his actions. What will tomorrow bring? He's been told he'll be kept away from his family when he makes his statement, but what if he still sees them? What will they do? Voltaire separates from Nathan. He doesn't want to see his parents again. He doesn't want to see his brother again. If his statement isn't good enough, he'll have to. He doesn't want to see their scornful looks again. He doesn't want them to—

  Nathan doesn't notice in time that Voltaire has checked out mentally, so when he moves to pull the thief into another clinch, Voltaire jumps at the motion, letting a short but powerful current run through his forearms and into his partner's. Nathan yelps and staggers back at the unexpected shock, the commotion drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. Both Voltaire's and Niel's blood run cold, and both feel the weight of every stare toward the thief.

  "I didn't tell you to stop, keep going!" Theo exclaims, getting the situation under control near-immediately and forcing everyone uninvolved to mind their own business. Chai also echoes this, and with a simple nod from Theo, he covers for his colleague while Theo meets with the pair at the edge of the mat. Niel wants to go over, too, but he's rooted in place with Chai watching.

  "Did you... shock me?" Nathan questions. He knows that was more than just static. There's only one explanation that comes to mind, and Voltaire knows it, too. It's crushing. The stress is crushing. The Electric Mute Thief breaks down into an uncontrollable sob.

  "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Voltaire pleads in between breaths. Fear of what could happen from this takes complete hold over his emotions and reasoning. Theo isn't too sure of the details of what just occurred, but he and Nathan work to console Voltaire back to reason.

  "So you're the Electric Mute Thief," Nathan says, causing Voltaire to nod in confirmation.

  "Now I understand why you were so..." Theo pauses to select a polite adjective, "rowdy when you started attending classes here."

  "And now you have that prelim happening tomorrow, right?" Nathan adds.

  Voltaire looks up at him in surprise. "You know?"

  "Of course. You've been all over the news lately." There's something else that Nathan wants to tell Voltaire, but now's not the time to say it. Instead, he gets up and stands over the thief. "Come on, let's keep going."

  "...You're not hurt?"

  "No, it just... shocked me," he jokes to lighten the mood. Voltaire grimaces at this, and he wipes his eyes with his arms as he stands. Theo's proud of the progress the feared once-thief has made since the beginning.

  As the trio rejoins the class, one thing is certain to Niel above all others: Brock was right. He doesn't have to worry about Voltaire after all.

  >>>>>>

  Voltaire hardly slept better than the night prior. How could he? It's the day of the hearing—the day he has to face his parents. He's been excused from class for today, but a part of him would rather be there than in the courthouse. Mabel knocks on his door to let him know it's time to get up. Having a couple of hours extra to sleep sounds nice, but when you're not sleeping for them, they only prolong the agony. Voltaire has to force himself to get out of bed and go downstairs. As he fights against his minimal appetite to eat, he watches the homeschooling class with intrigue. It's strange—not the class itself, but seeing what's essentially a new, studious side to Niel. Or, it's new to him, at least. Illia is there too, he supposes. Her glasses make her eyes look bigger than they are.

  Gabriel and Dwayne help him dress after he's finished eating. The white button-up and jeans are uncomfortable for him, and though he doesn't like it, he doesn't get much of a choice. They also straighten out his hair, which is in soon need of a trim. Dwayne's in his black-and-white suit he wore to their previous legal outings, and Mabel is wearing a collared blouse and shin-length pencil skirt none of the kids currently in the home have seen her wear before. Niel suspects this to be her court clothing from the previous era of the home. With all preparations made, Gabriel wishes the three of them well, and they drive away in Dwayne's car to an unknown fate.

  Niel can feel his focus waning with each passing minute. How will this turn out for Voltaire? If the court is smart, they'll keep him away from his parents. However, a basic level of reasoning and critical thinking skills didn't stop Adam from being sent back to his soon-to-be murderer. Niel's leg bounces impatiently on the ball of his foot. He doesn't get the luxury of venting to Medova until after class ends for the day, and it's dragging so much more slowly than normal. Illia next to him is equally antsy, a feeling she conveys to him during a break between lessons. Even Gabriel is having trouble keeping himself occupied. All they can do is try to focus on what's in front of them until the others return.

  At long, long last, Niel sees the car pull into the driveway. All three of them are either stern or just plain expressionless as they approach the house. Niel's heart sinks. The door opens and they step inside, no more expressive.

  "How'd it go?" Gabriel asks, not really to any of them in particular. Illia fears for the worst from the couch. Niel looks at the thief in silence, hopeful that things went well, and the thief looks back at him...

  ...with jovial relief.

  "There's enough to go to trial," Voltaire reports with a satisfied grin.

  "All three of them?" Niel questions to confirm, an excited pang in his voice.

  "All three of them. You guys are stuck with me for now."

  Niel breathes a large sigh of relief, and he pulls Voltaire in for a joyful hug. Three months ago, he wanted the thief removed from the house. Now here he is with his arms wrapped around the younger brother he once hated. Never, not in a million years would he have guessed his lone interaction with Voltaire in that alley would lead them both to this moment.

  "Now, that's just to go to trial," Dwayne adds to bring their expectations back to level. "There's still no telling how the trial will go, but it is happening."

  "Even better—with Voltaire's statement and new evidence, there's a strong case against them now!" Mabel chirps as she places her hand on Voltaire's head. He's not pleased by this, but he allows it to happen. Just this once.

  "Do we know when it's happening?" Gabriel asks inquisitively.

  "Not yet, no," Dwayne answers. "My guess is sometime late winter or early spring."

  "More for me to look forward to..." Voltaire says dismally.

  Mabel rubs his head. "I'm proud of you. You were so strong today."

  "Only because I didn't actually see them," Voltaire admits in a shy mumble as he shoos Mabel's hand away.

  "Indirectly or not, you still faced them. You did well," Niel praises, his smile beaming alongside the others'.

  >>>>>>

  "All right, go get a drink!" Theo calls, putting an end to their sparring sessions. Niel breathes a sigh of relief—Voltaire almost hit him in the head this time! At the same time, Voltaire breathes a sigh of discontent—he almost hit Niel in the head this time!

  "Why can't I ever hit you?" Voltaire questions as he pulls the fasteners on his gloves apart with his teeth.

  "I bet it's his Mute," Brock guesses half-seriously, towel already draped over his neck. Niel knows there's nothing concrete he's basing that on, but it still sends a chill through his spine regardless.

  "So, Voltaire," Nathan begins, reminding the thief about a promise only they know of. "Have something to say to Niel?"

  "Oh... Uh..." Niel can tell Voltaire doesn't exactly want to say whatever he's preparing to say. "...You can do judo if you want."

  "I can?" Niel questions.

  "Yes!" He says it rather defiantly, but Niel will take it.

  "And...?" Nathan presses.

  "And... The reason why I didn't want you to do it was because..." Now he's getting sheepish. This could be anything. "...It felt like you were abandoning me."

  "Oh. Well, I wouldn't do that..." Niel recognizes this sentiment—Voltaire got upset before when Niel and Nathan trained together. A question is nagging at him, but instead of putting it into words, he glances at Nathan in confusion.

  "We've been talking," Nathan says, understanding the look Niel gave him. "In class, over text. Little dude's stubborn, but he's not unreasonable. Also owes me a few."

  "Why?"

  "Turns out I robbed his brother once..." Voltaire admits, causing Niel to sigh in disappointment.

  "Of course you did..."

  If Voltaire is willing to allow it, then this will be Niel's final Muay Thai class. For now, at least. He can always switch back if judo doesn't work for him, and if it does, he has Brock and Nathan's numbers in case the four of them want to meet up again. The rest of the class goes as normally as any other day: with Voltaire never punching him in the head.

  With it being Friday and with the success of the preliminary hearing, Mabel and Gabriel decide to celebrate with a family game night, and for once, Voltaire joins them willingly. Junk food and cards, leftover steak frites with garlic butter, it's a lively night in the dining room for everyone involved. The deck rolls around the table for Niel's turn to shuffle and deal. Voltaire sits to his left, hoping to spy whatever cards he may deal. He's come a long way from the angry, lonely boy he was before autumn—from fighting with Niel to protecting him, lashing out to acceptance, from a thief to a brother. Well, it might take a bit longer to shrug off that thieving habit. Regardless, he's truly part of the family now, and Niel is glad he's here.

  The ex-thief lowers his head more to see the face of the cards Niel is doling out, causing a chuckle from the adults and complaints from the kids. Niel decides to fasten him with a headband made from Dust to keep his head chained back. He's quite obviously not happy about the restraints, but his tone changes once he realizes he's being held back by physical objects—objects he can see and feel. Voltaire turns his head to see the chain of Dust reaching down from a shadow on the ceiling. The others watch on, understanding Niel's intent.

  "This is your Mute?" Voltaire questions as he pulls more lengths of chain from the shadow above. Niel doesn't get many opportunities to show off his Mute because people he trusts with that information are few and far between. After this past week, Voltaire has shown himself to be one of those people.

  Niel forms and collapses a ball of black mist in his hands, and suddenly, everything—cards, bowls, glasses full and empty, the table, chairs, everyone—all rise in a haze of black smog, as if gravity itself was turned off for just that room. The Warden's Key flies from its hiding spot underneath Niel's dresser and places itself around his neck. All the cards converge in a vortex of synthetic paper, shuffle themselves, and divide equally to each person contained in a wrapper of shadow. Lengths of black chain extend from his back and reach from floor to ceiling all throughout the room. Voltaire is in awe at this beautiful darkness.

  "This is Dark Dust," Niel explains, most at ease being suspended in the air. "It's an artificial Mute, made and implanted into me by the people that took me away from my parents."

  The weight of this reveal nearly brings Voltaire to tears. That talk of trust in the woods a while back, it looks like Niel wasn't just blowing hot air then. Voltaire's actions lead him to here, lead to mutual trust. He's going to squeeze every detail from Niel that he can... If Niel is willing to share, of course. But power like this, and that pendant around his neck, he doesn't know what it could be. It's called Dark Dust, but there has to be more to it. So that pendant is where he'll start.

  "What is it?"

  All at once, every particle of Dust collapses into a central focal point, lowering everyone and everything back to the ground. Niel sets himself back into his chair with his arachnid-like chain legs. The tiny mass of Dust collects itself between his fingers and forms into a coin far too heavy for any person to hold—and Niel grins at Voltaire, the coin soon dissipating into nothingness. The Warden's Key remains unalight.

  "A secret I'm trusting you to keep."