Redemption Arc

Lucian heard a light footstep followed by a much heavier one sounding out behind him again and again. He didn’t need to turn around to know who was here.

“Miriam,” Lucian said without looking. He stayed focused on the array of books laid out before him.

“How’d you know it was me? Wait, don't say,” she interrupted before Lucian could explain. She tapped her leg. “Heard me coming.”

“Guilty.”

“I know you are,” she said, her piercing teal eyes focusing on him.

Lucian smiled bitterly. He felt like a bit of a sociopath doing this, but he’d planned out his story. He didn’t intend to lie; he just couldn’t tell the whole truth. He had to lead Miriam to a conclusion.

“Sit down. I’ll show you what I was talking about. This could be a while.”

“You want me to kick my foot up? You gonna walk me through things?” she quipped in quick succession, but removed her prosthesis and sat down as directed. “I’m interested to hear where you’re going with this.”

“First… read this,” Lucian said, then slid over a book. “It’s a book describing known golems, before they were outlawed because of their susceptibility to demonic influence. I’ve marked the passage.”

Miriam leaned in, taking the book from his hands. “The Stormhuln,” she read the heading, then followed the passage beneath it. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to read, and she muttered some passages beneath her breath. “Hewn of stone… difficult to fully destroy… requires high magic reserves… summons a storm.” She looked up at him. “Is this the same…?”

“Yep,” Lucian said, sliding over another book. He tapped his finger on an illustration that looked startlingly similar to what they’d seen. “The very same golem that we saw. They’re identical. I don’t think he has a brother—I think they’re the same golem.”

Miriam looked between the illustration, then read the passage once more, far more intently. “Well… okay, you’ve found it. I’ll admit, that’s impressive. What does this have to do with anything? What does this have to do with the potions and alchemical concoctions I made for you?”

“Just let me coo—let me finish,” he rephrased, cutting the slang. “I happen to be very interested in the Great War that saw Verne established as it is today. I’ve read about it a great deal. I’ve read it enough to notice this.”

Lucian slid over another marked book, and Miriam hunched over it to read. When she read over one part, she looked up.

“You see?” Lucian picked up the book. “Fighting underneath the banner of Rory Goldhain, they faced down a titanic golem in a harsh storm. The creature was immeasurably difficult to fell, but eventually succumbed and fell into the confluence of the Lurund River and its many tributaries.” Lucian set the book down and tapped his finger on the passage he read. “It’s the same golem. The Stormhuln. It’s been revived.”

Miriam read the passage once more for herself. He saw her swallow once she realized what this meant. If an ancient golem was resurrecting, that meant that demons were in play well and true. Golems had been outlawed because demons could possess them, but some discarded husks persisted—like the Stormhuln they’d seen back in the confluence.

“You mean to tell me you had me do all of that for the off chance a storm-calling golem was going to be resurrected?” Miriam looked at him, still not entirely swayed.

“No, that’s not it. Truth is, from the beginning, I’ve had some suspicions.” Lucian grabbed a chair and pulled it near, then sat closely before her. “You must be able to tell that something’s off.”

“I know my balance is off,” she joked, but quickly asked seriously, “What do you mean?”

“The attack on the Concord. Sure, demons and monsters exist… but that was obviously coordinated. On top of that, you’ve got blessings appearing left and right, making themselves known. That one on the battlefield that I claimed?” Lucian pointed backward with his thumb. “That isn’t the first blessing from the gods I’ve seen this month.”

Lucian reached over and pulled over another book. “Blessings of the gods are natural phenomenon appear in places of extreme,” he recited. “They bestow certain abilities upon those that claim them—greater strength, greater magic, and sometimes even abilities. They tend to appear in times of crisis—natural disasters, famine, et cetera. They were most numerous…” He slid the book over to her. “…during the Great War.”

Miriam bit at her lip, but then checked his work. After reading the book, she focused her eyes back on him.

“You think demons are going to act again?”

“No,” Lucian said while shaking his head. “I think that they’re already acting. But it’s not just what I’ve seen here.” He leaned in close, then whispered, “Long before I arrived at the Collegium, I had some suspicions this wasn’t going to be peaceful. I might’ve told someone, even… if I didn’t think I’d wind up crammed in some sewer, forlorn and forgotten.”

Miriam looked at him, holding her tongue.

“The blessing that I collected in that place wasn’t the first that I’ve gotten,” Lucian said, continuing to whisper. “I’ve gotten another, before it. It empowered me. I had a feeling that the Concord was going to be attacked. So, I brought some things to defend myself… and when crisis came, I was ready.”

None of that was technically a lie. Maybe that was why it felt a lot easier to say. His blessing and his instinct were unrelated, though—that was the detail he left out.

“And when we went to the confluence—you had a feeling then, too?” Miriam guessed.

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Lucian nodded. “The moment I attended that meeting, it was like I could feel danger coming.”

“Like a… sixth sense?” Miriam said, raising a brow.

“Yeah, like that.” Lucian nodded. “It was strong enough to make me bring scrolls to my first day at the Collegium. Strong enough to make me research the confluence we were heading to for potential countermeasures. But telling someone? Please,” he said, shaking his head. “I can tell that’s going to get me killed. If the demons knew someone could predict their plans, I’d be minced in days.”

“You’re telling me, right now,” she pointed out.

“You started suspecting me of something, forced my hand.” Lucian leaned back. “Fact is, Miriam, during the Great War, the majority of the administration for all nations involved was compromised on some level. I think that’s the case now.”

Miriam nodded. “I get it. Me, the one-legged elf with no patrons nor friends… what demon would bother with me?”

“You’re too prideful to accept a demon’s help,” Lucian said flatly.

“Hah.” She laughed lightly.

Lucian leaned in. “The point I’m making is no one can know. I intend on doing what I can to help, but no one can know. I want to live, Miriam, and to do that, I need to keep this information close. If I’m right—and after today, I’m damn near certain I am—I need to find a powerful someone that can handle all of this. Problem is, I don’t know who just yet.”

Lucian wasn’t lying there. He couldn’t think of any reliable patron, save perhaps Christoph.

Lucian focused back on Miriam. “Can you promise me you’ll keep this close?”

Miriam nodded. “Sure.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you. Thank you, Miriam.”

Evidently, the evidence he’d brought forward was persuasive enough. The reason why… it wasn’t his own evidence. He’d pilfered straight from the War of Four. Miriam elected to pick up some of the books, reading into them further. After a fairly long mile of waiting around…

“Should be right in this section,” came a man’s voice.

Not too long after, Christoph and Rowan walked into the section of the library where they were. It was late at night, so there weren’t that many people around. Once Rowan saw Lucian, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Then, his eyes fell to the open books on the table before them.

“Hey, dad…” Rowan tapped Christoph’s shoulder. “Think I found what you were talking about.”

“What?” Christoph looked over, then followed Rowan’s gaze to the books.

Rowan walked up to the table, planting his finger on the illustration of the Stormhuln before looking at Lucian. “Looks like we were one step behind you.”

***

“You were the one that found this?” Christoph asked, parsing through the book containing the Stormhuln. “I consider myself the foremost expert on demonology, but…” He looked over, taking off his reading glasses and fitting them in his pocket. “Good pull. How did you find this?”

“I’ve done a lot of reading about the Great War. Some passages in it mentioned a fight with a golem in the confluence. I put the pieces together from there,” he explained.

Rowan, standing with arms crossed, asked, “What does it mean if this golem is resurrected?”

Christoph looked over. “You saw how powerful that thing was. It took myself, Lorenna, and Dean Mortimer to render it inactive once again. It summoned a storm. A golem of that power needs a demon of proportional strength to make it rise from the depths once more. If there’s a demon strong enough to raise that thing from the bottom of that river…”

“That demon could be doing a lot more than just that,” Miriam guessed. “Influencing governments, even.”

Christoph nodded. “When people think about demons, they remember the most obvious displays of their power. Their dark magic. The grand clashes between heroes of ages past. In my mind, the most terrifying tool that the demons possess is their ability to corrupt the minds of men and command hordes of monsters. They approach people from the dreamworld. It’s almost totally undetectable.”

“Are there no countermeasures?” Rowan asked. “Any way to resist demonic influence?”

“Happiness. Contentment. Satisfaction. Fulfillment,” Christoph explained. “They can’t find any purchase in societies that are well-managed and full of opportunities. Strong-willed people without unnecessary greed can easily resist them. Time was, the church had programs to weed out demons… but eventually, they, too, succumbed. Corrupted inquisitors committed gross acts of excess in the name of inquisition, which ultimately served to benefit the demons. Those programs were dismembered after that.”

Lucian paced around. “Sounds pretty hopeless, stopping them. Sounds like their rise is almost inevitable.”

“Maybe it is,” Christoph conceded. “But that doesn’t mean we have to just stand by and let it happen. You fought that ogre, Lucian. You saw the Stormhuln. Rowan also tells me there was a blessing on that island—one you obtained.”

Lucian nodded.

Christoph’s eyes ran across the array of books, and then out the window of the library into the night. “I’m not a man inclined toward conspiracy, but more and more, I’m getting the sense that something big is coming.”

“Or maybe it’s already here,” Lucian proposed.

“Maybe.” Christoph nodded. “After what happened, the dean is probably going to suspend Student Ambassador missions altogether. He’s already talked about it. Rowan had the idea of repurposing all of you toward uncovering the truth of these matters.” He sighed. “With how sensitive things are, diplomatically… there’s no appetite for truth. Even if we speak sense, the two new chancellors they sent are incredibly partisan. Marissa Goldhain and Turke Dumane.”

Miriam pointed. “They sent Marissa?”

“You know her?” Lucian asked.

“Sure,” Miriam said with a shrug. “Not personally, but she’s a major figure in the Republic. She doesn’t even believe we should be in the Concord. She often discussed backing out. If they’ve sent her to redraft the Treaty of Verne…”

“And I’m sure that’s no coincidence,” Rowan said. “Might be… might be the influence is already deeply entrenched.”

“That’s how they work,” Christoph said. “They sink their fingers in, year over year, without making noise… until the whole inside is rotten. It’s not visible from the outside until the floor falls out from under us. If I’m right, they won’t even consider the notion of demons having a hand in things.”

“How the hell do you fight against that?” Rowan said incredulously.

Christoph raised his hand. “Don’t fret. What we need… what we need is proof. Incontrovertible proof. We need to reveal the rot to all. We need to make it so blindingly obvious that no one can avert their eyes from the truth. And if we can’t…”

“The Greater War,” Miriam finished dryly. “Bigger and badder than the last.”