Fortress Al-Mir

The chamber, dimly lit by specially tuned glowstones to keep the light levels low, was thick with the scent of magic. It was practically tangible, more akin to the air in the Underworld. It was a different sort of magic, however, yet one familiar to Arkk. Now that he was experiencing it for a third time, he could easily pick up on Xel’atriss, Lock and Key’s touch of magic in the air.

Claire, once a formidable dark elf warrior, now lay vulnerable on the bed. Her body, wracked by the unseen forces of the god of boundaries, barriers, and separation, had an almost imperceptible layer of ghostly shimmering covering every visible part of her. Project Liminal was designed to explore the limits of physical and magical realms.

Claire hadn’t lost her eyes over it, but the way she stared around the room, eyes tracking things that Arkk couldn’t perceive, made him wonder if she hadn’t lost something more.

“How are you feeling?” Arkk asked, his voice soft and concerned. He watched, already able to hear Kia’s irritated voice telling them both that she had told them so.

Claire turned her head to face him. Ghostly trails of afterimages followed the motion, each moving ever so slightly out of sync with her head. A lock of hair fell in a different place in one. In another, her face twisted in a grimace. A hundred different afterimages blurred together until they merged back with her actual head.

The afterimages didn’t stop there. They lurched upward, bending and twisting in silvery, translucent shapes that blurred and shifted into an indistinct blob. Arkk watched, feeling ill at ease yet forcing himself to stand firm. He was the one who had brought her here. He had a responsibility to Claire.

The movement of the ghostly shapes coalesced into one, slowly gaining definition as more and more settled into place. At the end of it, Claire was left sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows propped up on her knees with her head held in her hands.

“Dizzy,” she said, the one word multiplying in the air around the small chamber as if spoken by a dozen different versions of Claire at once. “Better than I was yesterday.”

“Quite a remarkable recovery,” Zullie said, stepping forward from her perch at the back wall. “In a week, I imagine you’ll be back to your old self. Mentally, if not physically.”

“I’ve meticulously mended her mind, merging multiple meandering memories into a single, seamless self,” Savren said. “From this frontier, her fate hinges wholly on herself.”

“Multiple memories?” Arkk asked, raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t heard anything like that during Zullie’s briefing on Project Liminal.

“Claire is currently experiencing reality on several different layers and can act independently on each of those layers,” Zullie said, sparing Arkk from having to parse Savren’s curse. “I should have expected it, but each version of herself had its own separate thoughtstream that stemmed from the… Claire Prime. Savren performed a little magic to help merge them into one contiguous thoughtstream, which has helped with her… recovery.”

“I see,” Arkk said, not quite sure what he saw. “Was it…” He looked from Zullie to Claire. “Was it worth it? Or…”

“You tell me,” Zullie said, reaching into her pocket. She withdrew a dozen smooth river stones, all gripped in her fist. “Claire, don’t get hit.”

Without any further warning for the impaired dark elf, Zullie flung the entire fistful of rocks.

Arkk, surprised at the sudden attack, teleported backward out of the way of more than a few that had gone wide, only to realize that he had left Claire completely exposed to the rain of stones. He tried to teleport her away, only for his grip on her to slip as her form blurred with thousands of ghostly afterimages.

The ghostly versions of Claire raised their hands, each moving in a different place. For just a bare instant, those hands solidified one after another the moment the rocks hit before fading back into ghostly afterimages. The rocks fell harmlessly to the ground. The blurred versions of Claire merged back into one, leaving her right where she had been before Zullie threw the rocks, sitting on the side of her bed with her head in her hands.

“Good,” Zullie said, glasses gleaming in front of her eyeless sockets. “Now catch.” Pinching a blade between her fingers, Zullie drew back and flung it across the room. The clumsy throw couldn’t compare to the accuracy Lexa could wield. Even before it left her grip, Arkk could tell that it would go wide.

But the ghostly shimmerings twisted and moved to push the blur that was Claire into the way. A few looked like they got hit, but the blade passed through them without apparent harm. One afterimage grabbed hold of the hilt, solidifying for just an instant before snapping back to Claire.

Claire transitioned from sitting on the bed to standing in a ready pose without actually crossing the intervening space. She just reappeared where one of the afterimages had been, now holding onto the knife.

“And slice,” Zullie said, tossing a much larger stone across the room.

Once again, Claire’s afterimages moved while leaving Claire Prime in her stance. A few stumbled and staggered, looking more intoxicated than anything else, but several still managed to swing the knife Claire now held down on the stone.

Arkk wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. The blade had looked entirely mundane in Zullie’s hands. No matter how sharp it was, it would have just clanged off the stone. Or, since the stone was moving, just knocked it down while likely chipping and dulling the metal.

The stone split clean in two.

Claire wasn’t done there. Another afterimage was already in position, swinging the blade horizontally to cut the two halves into four. Those afterimages multiplied, each swinging at the stone until nothing was left but dust drifting to the floor.

Claire stood, all the ghosts of herself collapsing into one. She straightened her shoulders, looking down at the remnants of the rock with something akin to utter disdain. Arkk could only imagine that she was picturing the golden knight in its place. Her moment of victory didn’t last long before she blurred once again, with all the versions of herself looking like they were retching onto the floor.

The real her wiped at her lips with a foul grimace. “I think I just threw up in a thousand different ways.”

“Not surprising,” Zullie said. “At least you held yourself together for the entire demonstration this time. Get some rest.”

Claire nodded her head. One of her dropped the knife on the table while the rest just sort of drifted back to the bed where she reformed properly, already underneath the blanket.

Zullie looked to Arkk. Even without eyes, she managed an expectant look.

Deciding to not disturb Claire further, or allow Zullie to throw more things at her, Arkk teleported himself, Savren, and Zullie to the adjoining laboratory room. Zullie’s primary workshop deep within Fortress Al-Mir. Arcane sigils and half-formed ritual circles covered practically every surface while papers and tomes had been left scattered on tables, chairs, and even the floor.

“Well? Impressed?”

Considering for a short moment, Arkk allowed himself a nod of his head. “If she recovers fully, I’ll be very impressed. To the point where I’ll wonder if you can’t do that to me.”

“She’s sensed a semblance of separation, seemingly sprung from her less-than-singular sensation of reality. Such severance may steadfastly stay, scarcely subsiding.”

“Claire has expressed feeling like she doesn’t quite belong,” Zullie clarified. “Like she’s living outside where everyone else is living. I presume this is a mental issue,” she dismissed with a shrug. “Time will tell whether she gets over it or not.”

Arkk pressed his lips together. Of course, there was a greater issue.

“Continuing your concept,” Savren said, “your connection to the core constitutes a challenge that could render such risky research applied to you remarkably… risky.”

“My connection… The Heart?” Arkk asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Claire doesn’t exactly exist in our layer of reality as much as she used to. It isn’t a problem for her, metaphysically speaking, but for you? Well, I don’t know much about these Hearts, but we do have an example in Priscilla regarding what happens if you break them. And you, Arkk, are far less hardy than a dragonoid.”

“Right,” Arkk said. Claire was still his employee, he could sense that much. But the way his attempt to teleport her out of harm’s way had failed… “No experimenting with anything that might break the Heart or my connection to it.”

“In any case,” Zullie said, “with the obvious success of Project Liminal, I was wondering if you might be reinterested in revisiting Project Sunder. It’s based partially on the same principles, so…”

“For now, focus on Claire. I…” Arkk pursed his lips together. The Prince was practically at Cliff already. If the man decided to summon his demon, their best bet for dealing with it wasn’t out of bed. “I need to get to Cliff.”

There were a few meetings he needed to conduct before the Prince’s arrival.

Arkk glanced up and down the empty street deep within the slums near Cliff’s harbor. Most of the general population wouldn’t recognize him. Being completely unseen wasn’t his goal, otherwise he would have tunneled as far as he could before surfacing. He just needed to make sure he avoided anyone associated with the Abbey of the Light. Or Lady Katja.

He would visit her later, after his current task was finished.

For now, he made his way through the narrow, winding alleys, wrinkling his nose at the smell in the air. The salt-sea air stung at his nose, mixing with the stench of refuse and stagnation. Streams of murky water meandered along the uneven cobblestones. The buildings, a patchwork of salvaged wood, stone, and metal, leaned against one another for support, all slowly rotting away from the salty air.

Not much had changed since Arkk’s last visit to Cliff. It was a bit disappointing to see. He knew Katja wasn’t going to focus on rebuilding the district in which most of the city’s non-humans lived, but he had been hoping that some positive changes would sweep through simply because of the Duke’s absence. Then again, it had only been a month. Two? How long had it been?

Time seemed to have slipped away from him. He had been so focused on Elmshadow, both before and after retaking it from Evestani, that the days had blurred together.

Either way, no change would happen overnight. If, in a year, the slums were still as they were today, he might put a little pressure on Katja to improve conditions. Assuming the city hadn’t fallen under rays of gold or been torn to shreds by the claws of a demon.

The muscular form of a hulking minotaur came up the alley as Arkk walked down it. Minotaurs were rare, something he had only heard of in stories. He didn’t think any lived outside the lands of the Beastmen Tribes further west even Evestani. They were tall beings—not as tall as the Protector’s bodies, but still tall enough to see the roofs of the shorter buildings around the slums. Where Protectors were thin and lithe, more like spiders, minotaurs were the exact opposite, thick and bulky with layers of muscle. Their skin was more like stone and the coarse fur that grew across their bodies was thick enough to stop an arrow.

Seeing it, Arkk almost offered it a job on the spot.

But he wasn’t here for recruitment today. He simply stepped aside, letting the minotaur pass. Each footfall of its hooves shook the ground. As soon as it was on its way, Arkk leaned down to the shadow trailing after him.

“Do you think you can find that one later, maybe feel out for any interest in working with us?”

Lexa pulled back her hood just enough for Arkk to see her red eyebrow half up her forehead. “I think it would be hard not to find a minotaur. Did you see the size of that thing? I’m as big as its thumb.”

She was exaggerating. Though, perhaps from the perspective of a gremlin, it really felt like that.

“I wonder what it is doing here,” Lexa continued with a small hum.

“Might be another thing to find out,” Arkk said. It wasn’t just the distance from the Beastmen Tribes that was odd. Demihumans and the more humanoid beastmen were generally accepted in human-occupied towns and villages—or, in Cliff, perhaps tolerated was the right word. But the further a species strayed from human, the less likely they would find themselves welcome. They either had to be unassuming and obviously not threats, like flopkin, or they had to be useful, like harpies.

Arkk didn’t believe for a moment that minotaurs were rampaging bulls ready to go wild at the slightest provocation. But the fact that it could crush someone under its hoof and probably only notice as an afterthought would frighten a great many humans… and likely others as well. Gremlins, for instance.

“After our meeting, see what you can find out.”

“Sure thing.”

It wasn’t long before they arrived at their destination. A run-down old tavern that looked like the mold and mildew were holding it together more than the nails jutting out from its wooden planks at odd angles. Strangely enough, it wasn’t far from the Primrose Inn, which was in far better shape. The Primrose tried for at least a mild air of welcoming.

This, The Burned Cauldron, looked like it was trying to ward off customers.

Arkk stepped inside and immediately coughed at the smoke-filled air. He wafted his hand back and forth in front of his face. It didn’t help. Narrowing his eyes, he looked around and found his target seated in the far back corner. He was leaning half out of his chair to reach toward another table, trying to slip a coin purse off an orc’s belt.

“Lovely,” Arkk mumbled to himself as he made his way across the room. With the chair tipped back on two legs, all it took was a light knock of his boot to tip the chair all the way over.

With a yelp and a flailing of his arms, Edvin crashed to the ground.

The orc, realizing that Edvin had his hand around the now-freed sack of coins, stood and started for a small dagger on his belt. Before he could even touch it, Lexa was perched on his shoulders with the tip of her blade pressed against his throat. The orc went utterly still, as did the rest of the room as they focused on the commotion.

Sighing, Arkk bent and plucked the coin purse from Edvin’s hand. “We have business with your friend here,” he said to the orc, tossing the pouch at its owner. “Get out.”

“You can’t just—”

Lexa dug the tip of her blade further into his throat. She barely avoided breaking his skin. Speaking the wrong word a little too carelessly would have made him cut himself.

The orc grimaced. “Sure,” he agreed easily, trying to hiss the word without moving his throat.

Lexa hopped off the orc’s shoulders with a nod from Arkk. Her cloak, adjusted so that she was more real than a transparent shadow, fluttered lightly as she stood atop the table. The orc looked like he was considering drawing his dagger again but, as his eyes roamed over that cloak, he decided on the wiser course of action. Grabbing a wooden flagon from the table, he hurried away.

Arkk turned his glare down on Edvin, who was brushing himself off as he righted his chair.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to disturb a man while he is working?” the thief grumbled.

“My mother died when I was five.”

Edvin shifted, looking uncomfortable for all of five seconds, then hastily retook his seat. “Well, it would have been less attention-grabbing if you had just let me finish.”

Arkk couldn’t deny that. Conversations around the small tavern had started back up again. He could tell that almost everyone still had their eyes on this corner.

Ah well. It wasn’t like they were going to be subtle for long. None of the people present were likely to go running to the Abbey or Katja anyway.

“It would have been less attention-grabbing if you had kept your hands to yourself,” Arkk said, sitting across the table from Edvin with his back to the wall, in clear view of the door. “I pay you to watch Katja, not steal from random people.”

Edvin lightly cleared his throat. “In fairness to me, I don’t think that purse belonged to the orc. The wear on the pouch didn’t match the rest of his attire. It was too new or well-cared for. Likely stolen from someone from a wealthier district of the city.”

Arkk sighed, long and slow. “Is there anything going on in the city that I care about?”

“Well, if you don’t care about crime rates in the city. Hmm… The Abbey of the Light has been acting strangely for the last… few weeks?”

“Stranger how?”

“See, they normally like being seen around doing things. Helping people, providing aid, and… assisting with life, I guess. Real altruistic sorts. But a few weeks ago, they shuttered the doors to all the churches in the city. The lowest acolytes are still around, maintaining the buildings and doing what little they can to carry on helping people, but there have been no Suun sermons, no sign of abbesses or priests or anyone above their standing around the city. No one but inquisitors,” Edvin hissed. “Been a number of them out at nights, moving around the city like they’re patrolling it.”

Arkk frowned, leaning back for a moment in thought. “They haven’t acted against Katja?”

“Nope. Had a meeting or two with her. They seem to want to play nice for now. One of my old buddies who’s stationed as a palace guard said that they came to warn her of potential threats to the city.”

“Palace?” Arkk started, only to shake his head. Whatever she wanted to call the Duke’s manor didn’t matter. “Warned of what? Demons?”

Edvin jolted in his seat. He promptly started looking around with obvious trepidation, as if the mere utterance of the word might bring down something unholy on their heads. “Good Light, no. Whatever gave you that idea?”

Arkk had warned Katja of the suspected dealings Prince Cedric had. But he supposed he had forgotten to warn Edvin. “It doesn’t matter. What was the meeting about?”

“It sure sounds like it matters. Why even bring those things up?”

“Edvin…”

The thief took in a breath, steadying himself. “I don’t know what the meeting was about, exactly. But it certainly wasn’t that. All I know is that Katja has been in and out of the local academy nearly every day.”

“She is a caster… One self-taught from books her old slave master had,” Arkk said slowly. “It isn’t a surprise that she would go looking for a bit more of a formal education.”

“The frequency and late hours suggest she is looking for something a little more specific,” Edvin countered. “Looking for something like how to stop… those?”

“Edvin, I’m sorry I brought anything up that made you uncomfortable. Try to forget it. It isn’t a problem yet.”

“Yet?” he squeaked.

Arkk was saved from having to say anything else with the tavern door slamming open. With his back to the wall, he didn’t need to turn to see the woman wearing a black long coat step through. She wore a large pair of round glasses that weren’t completely clear. The glass had a heavy amber tint.

Just over her shoulders, Arkk spotted two others. An unassuming man with a pendant dangling from his neck wearing attire that matched that of the inquisitor. He was bald with small, narrowed eyes as he looked around the room with suspicion. And, behind him…

Another woman. This woman, darker in skin tone than was typical of Mystakeen, likely hailed from either Chernlock or outside the kingdom entirely. Perhaps the same place as Katja. More important were the tattoos on her face and forehead. Arkk almost flung a lightning bolt the moment he saw their pale white glow, fearing the golden avatar had finally caught up to him. But the color was wrong and they were circular rather than rectangular.

They formed the familiar trio of inquisitor, chronicler, and purifier. Part of the Abbey of the Light, not his enemies.

He was still wary. The Abbey of the Light wasn’t exactly not his enemies. The fact that they were here…

“I thought you said the inquisition went out at night?” Arkk hissed as he tried to look eminently unimportant.

Edvin shrugged, his tense shoulders betraying the feelings behind the casual movement. “They were! How was I supposed to expect this?”

The purifier was the one to watch out for. Not that the other two could be dismissed easily, he had experienced that battle firsthand when Vrox and his chronicler invaded his fortress. Together, they had held off twenty combatants, including himself, Vezta, and gorgon. But they were a known factor. The purifier would have powerful magics that, until he saw what form those magics took, he wouldn’t even be able to guess at how to defend himself. Even then, based on Agnete and Tybalt’s magic, he wasn’t sure he would be able to defend himself regardless.

Despite his attempts at being just another unassuming patron of the run-down tavern, the inquisitor took one look around the room and promptly marched her way over.

The lack of magic flying through the air was something of a relief. If they knew who he was, they would know how dangerous he was. He held no doubts that Vrox had reported on his shortened castings for lightning bolts, if nothing else. Which meant this was hopefully nothing more than a social call.

Edvin hissed back, “Should have just let me take the coin purse. Then that orc wouldn’t have gone crying to the Abbey.”

“That was two minutes ago. There is no way he got an inquisitor out here that fast.”

The inquisitor’s heavy boots thumped to a stop at the edge of Arkk’s table. “The oracles foresaw your arrival.”

“Did they now?” Arkk shot a victorious look at Edvin before smiling up at the inquisitor. “Well isn’t that lovely. If you wouldn’t mind passing along a message to your oracles that I don’t exactly like to be watched, I would very much appreciate it.”

“Noted,” the inquisitor said, tone utterly flat.

“So,” Arkk said, “to what do I owe the visit, Inquisitrix..?”

“Inquisitrix Lui is enough for you,” the woman said, planting her palms on the table as she looked between Arkk and Edvin. Despite Lexa slowly creeping around the side of the table, Lui didn’t spare the cloaked gremlin a single glance.

Arkk waited a moment. Once again, the entire tavern had gone silent. Beastmen and demihumans had their eyes on his little corner of the room. So much for not raising a commotion.

“As for the purpose of the visit,” Inquisitrix Lui continued, “there has been some division in the Abbey as of late.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Arkk lied, not that he bothered to hide his sarcasm. If they were fighting among themselves, they weren’t fighting him. “I suppose you have a lot to deal with because of that,” he said, moving to stand. “I better not take up any more of your time.”

A new voice cut in from near the door. “Leaving already, Arkk? And here I came all this way…”

Arkk blinked twice. He had been focused on the inquisitorial squad in front of him, not on the door. A woman with white hair, red eyes, and a matching inquisitorial uniform stood. She ran one thick hand, gloved in brown leather, over her hair.

She was panting, ever so slightly, as if exhausted from a long run.

“Inquisitrix Astra?”

Sylvara Astra stepped into the room, clearly trying to hide her exhaustion as she strode over with a straight back. Her gait, somewhat lopsided thanks to Hale’s work in healing her missing leg, was just a little too unsteady.

“Astra?” Sylvara asked. “Who did you have writing your letters to me?”

“I wrote them myself,” Arkk said, though he paused as he remembered something. “Or Ilya, if you remember her.”

Sylvara frowned for a moment before flicking her red eyes over to her fellow inquisitors. “I asked you to wait for me.”

“I wished to see his reaction without your presence.”

Offering a small sigh, Sylvara shook her head and looked to Arkk. “This is Inquisitrix Vin Lui, Chronicler Klink, and Purifier Irina. They are… leaning toward a way of thinking that more closely aligns with that of my own rather than the majority of the Abbey.”

“Leaning is a generous way of putting it,” Lui said, narrowing her eyes. “I would prefer to judge and execute the situation as usual.”

Her emphasis didn’t fill Arkk with much confidence that they would be working closely together. That said, if they were going to at least act like friends for a short while, he wasn’t willing to turn that down. Especially not with them bringing him a new purifier to observe.

His eyes turned toward the purifier, taking a look at her tattoos a little closer now that he didn’t feel quite so paranoid about watching her hands. It was a bit strange. They certainly had a glow to them, but her eyes looked… mundane. Assuming all purifiers were avatars of the Pantheon, he had been ready to assume that all of them would have interesting eyes. Tybalt, Agnete, and the Heart of Gold’s avatar all had strange eyes that betrayed their power.

Arkk couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with this Irina. Agnete had been volatile before contracting with him. Tybalt clearly had more than a few issues. The less said about the Heart of Gold’s avatar, the better.

But Irina stood in a fairly casual pose, her arms clasped behind her back. She looked… serene. At ease. As if the tension that had been flying about between him and Lui just wasn’t worth considering.

He tried to match that with the gods he knew of, trying to get just a little more information without directly asking.

The Eternal Silence was the only name that jumped out to him. But the god of death, sleep, and stillness didn’t quite fit with the calm ease that Irina gave off. Unknown, the Enigma? The Laughing Prince? Surely not the latter. If Vezta were here, her more in-depth knowledge of the Pantheon might have given her a clue. As it was, Arkk turned to Sylvara.

“You were researching other gods, right?”

“Vrox focused on that,” Sylvara said with a small shake of her head. “I was uncovering techniques used to seal the powers of abominations. Avatars.”

“Wouldn’t those two topics be related?” Arkk asked. “If the powers of avatars all stem from one of the gods, then—”

“As much as I would enjoy discussing the results of my weeks of research, we have a problem.” Sylvara paused, glanced around, then leaned in and whispered, “The oracles have predicted the arrival of a great devastation within the Duchy.”

Arkk felt his spirits sink. With the absence of the Heart of Gold’s avatar and the calming of the Duchy—at least Mystakeen east of Elmshadow—he had been hoping that things would continue to remain calm. There was just the Prince to worry about. Which was very likely what she was referring to.

Shooting a glance at Edvin, who was very much trying to pretend like they weren’t surrounded by inquisitors, he sighed.

“Yes,” Sylvara said, reading his mind. “This venue isn’t exactly the best for talking of such matters. If you would come with us.”

“Why don’t we go somewhere of my choosing,” Arkk said. “Not that I don’t trust you,” he said with a nod to Sylvara. “Just not sure that going places with inquisitors is in my best interests.”

It looked like Lui was going to argue, but a look from Sylvara stopped her shot. “Such as..?” Lui asked with a frown.

“Somewhere in the academy, perhaps? It has plenty of empty spaces in the back corridors where we won’t be overheard.”

“If being overheard is the greatest of your worries in the company of four inquisitors, you are a braver man than I anticipated,” Lui said. “Or a fool.”

“I’m hardly defenseless.” Even ignoring his abilities, which could take out an avatar if he managed to surprise them, not one of them had glanced toward the shadow creeping about at their backs. “But if your oracles predicted the arrival of this catastrophe,” he whispered, “it can’t be referring to me. I’ve been here the whole time. Thus, it makes more sense to work together, doesn’t it? Especially when I might know what this coming disaster refers to and am perfectly willing to help fight it. Neither of us should have to fear from the other.”

Lui hummed before she whirled away with a flourish of her long coat. Lexa managed to step aside just as the woman passed by, still going unnoticed. The chronicler and purifier followed without a word, both seeming at relative ease with the situation. After Arkk stood to follow, Sylvara gave him a nod.

“Try not to antagonize her too much,” she whispered. “I have never been one for hard doctrine when reality disagrees with sermon and you’ve somehow weaseled Vrox over to your side, but Lui is a staunch hardliner. Associating with a heretic like you is likely grating on her more than she shows.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Arkk said, honestly. The less enemies he made, the better.

“Good.” Sylvara gave a slight nod, but paused. Letting some of the formality drop from her posture, she offered a smile. “It’s good to see you again. I heard you ran that golden avatar from the Duchy.”

Ah. That explained her attitude toward him. After Gleeful, Sylvara swore vengeance against the avatar. Anyone who could give him a metaphorical black eye was good in her books.

Unfortunately… “I wish I knew exactly what I did to him. I don’t think we killed him but… he just vanished.”

“A task to figure out together. But first, let’s deal with Lui.” With another nod, Sylvara’s back stiffened with a militaristic formality as she headed toward the door.

Arkk started to follow, only to pause and look back to Edvin.

“Y… You don’t want me to come with you, do you?” Edvin asked, sounding very much like he regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. “Not that I’m opposed to the company of frightening women but… I am somewhat opposed to the company of frightening women.”

Arkk rolled his eyes. “Just keep on watching Katja,” he whispered. Before Edvin could quip that Katja was a frightening woman as well, he turned and stalked away, letting his shadow trail after him.