Unrepentant

The room was a chaos of ink-splattered parchments, strewn across every available surface. The suffocating atmosphere pressed in from all sides, thickened by the stagnant air, with the windows shut tightly, trapping the room’s heat. The lack of ventilation gave the space an oppressive, almost unbearable heaviness.

At the center of it all, Selen sat slumped in a wooden chair, her body sagging like a rag doll. Her chest heaved as she hyperventilated shallow breaths, beads of sweat trickling down her temples and neck.

She leaned back over the chair’s backrest, her arms hanging limp at her sides, fingers twitching as if drained of all strength. Hot, moist breaths escaped her mouth and nostrils, each one curling into the air like steam rising from a boiling kettle. Her body burned from within, her skin flushed with a feverish intensity. Her mind raced.

''He is baaaad~. I’m tired.''

''I’ll tell him to eat his own shoe.''

''I want another bath.''

''I’ve learned so much of this language that my head wants to go boom~''

She struggled to catch her breath, lost in the whirlwind of her own exhaustion, completely oblivious to the soft click of the door behind her as it swung open. Silas stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping over the disarray. His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise at the sight. [Headstart] had certainly left its mark on her.

His attention shifted to Selen, slumped and struggling, her breath still coming in labored gasps. Her skin, once pale, now flushed a deep red, and the tips of her fingers had taken on an unnatural hue of purple and blue.

''Did the potion burst her capillaries, or was it physical trauma by her own hand?'' Silas pondered the thought briefly before dismissing it. With a casual nudge of his foot, he began pushing the scattered parchments into a pile. Selen remained oblivious to his presence.

“The stench of the room is quite something,” he muttered to himself, eyes briefly darting to the closed window. He strode over, wrenching it open, letting the crisp, cool air flood the room.

The sudden rush of fresh air jolted Selen from her stupor. Her swollen eyes shot open, and a shiver ran down her spine as the temperature shift hit her like a bucket of ice water.

She leaned her head back even further, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of who had entered. Her bloodshot eyes caught the top of Silas’s head, and through her labored breaths, she spoke fluently in Livish.

“Eat a shoe.”

Then, with a defeated sigh, she slumped back into her chair, sinking into a more comfortable position.

Behind her, Silas’s lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. The corners of his mouth pulled slightly upward. He’d gotten the result he’d hoped for.

Without a word, he crossed the room to the washroom, rummaging through the basin until he produced a cold, damp cloth. Returning to where Selen sat, still unaware of his movements, he unceremoniously slapped the cloth onto her face, his hand firm and unrelenting.

Selen jolted upright, a scream ripping from her throat as the icy cloth made contact with her overheated skin. She blinked rapidly, her hands instinctively reaching for her face as she gasped in shock. Silas loomed behind her, his expression unchanged as he watched her reaction.

“You’ve done excellently,” he said, his voice low but clear. “Cool yourself down quickly. You’ll have to leave here shortly.”

Selen's first instinct was to lash out, anger bubbling up from the depths of her fatigue. But then, as his words filtered through her mind, she realized with mild surprise that she understood him perfectly. The language she had struggled to grasp now came to her with startling ease.

Selen rolled up her sleeves, her fingers shaking as she reached the washroom.

The faucet rattled before releasing a stream of cold water that splashed loudly against the basin. The moment after Silas had thrown the damp cloth on her, she’d realized just how blistering her skin had become. Her body felt like it was burning from the inside out, and every breath came out ragged and shallow.

She grabbed another cloth, soaking it under the faucet, then pressed it against her face, relishing the brief relief. But it wasn’t enough. The heat clung to her, spreading across her torso and down her legs. She yanked up her shirt and wiped her scalding skin, rinsing the cloth after every wipe.

Each time, the cool cloth grew hot immediately, forcing her to wring it out and soak it again, as she desperately tried to cool herself down.

Meanwhile, Silas had begun setting up another Alchemy station in the room. His movements were smooth as he arranged an assortment of tools and ingredients on the table. He retrieved a blue stone mortar and pestle from his satchel, selecting a handful of dried herbs. With firm pressure, he ground the herbs into a fine powder, releasing a strong, earthy scent that soon overpowered the room.

Once satisfied, he poured the crushed herbs into a ceramic bowl, adding a small measure of black salt. The mixture hissed slightly, a reaction triggered by the contact, as he stirred it into a coarse blend.

From his satchel, Silas produced a tiny vial of thick, golden oil, removing the stopper with a careful twist. He let a single drop fall into the bowl, watching as it spread evenly across the surface of the mixture, turning it into a more malleable form.

The burner beside him flared to life, a soft flame dancing beneath a small clay pot. Silas transferred the mixture into the pot, setting the lid on top as the contents inside began to bubble and sizzle. The pungent smell of herbs and burnt minerals filled the air, creating a heady atmosphere as the mixture cooked.

He watched closely, his gaze unblinking as the pot emitted a faint glow, the signal that the blend had reached its final stage. He extinguished the flame and allowed the contents to cool for a few minutes. Once the glow faded, he removed the lid, revealing a thick, clay-like substance with streaks of green and gray.

Silas smirked, pleased with the result.

He took a small glass pin from his satchel, its surface smooth and translucent, and pressed it deep into the soft mass. As the pin embedded itself within, the residual Energy from the mixture surged within the glass, connecting the two.

The [Miner’s Sun] was complete.

As he inspected his creation, Selen emerged from the washroom, her skin still glistening with moisture, her breath coming more evenly now. She eyed the strange object in his hands, curiosity sparking in her tired eyes.

“What is that?” she asked, her voice still rough from earlier.

Silas glanced at her, a slight unnerving grin tugging at his lips. “A meeting gift,” he replied lightly. “For a new acquaintance.” His tone was casual, but his eyes held a sinister shine. “And I must say, your speech is impressive.”

Before she could react, Silas stepped closer, his hand gripping her shoulder with a touch that made her stiffen in discomfort. He guided her to the window, his presence overwhelming as he pointed across the street.

“Over there,” he instructed, his voice dripping with charm that felt almost dangerous. “I need you to wait at that spot. Stay there until I come for you, no matter what you see.”

Selen frowned, her thoughts swirling with questions. “What’s going to happen?” she asked, her instincts urging her to push back. But the way Silas spoke, the charm laced in every word, held her in place. His presence had taken on a predatory grace, like something lethal wrapped in beauty.

He pulled a dark cloak from his satchel, the heavy fabric swishing as he flung it over her shoulders. The weight of the cloak settled around her, and before she could react, Silas drew the hood over her head, obscuring her face. She blinked in surprise, feeling both sheltered and trapped beneath the garment.

“Remember,” he said, his voice a velvet command. “Stay until I appear. No matter what.”

Confusion flickered across her face, but she nodded, unable to shake the feeling that he was the only one who could help her make sense of everything. Despite the unsettling tension in the air, she found herself trusting him, even if her instincts told her to run.

Silas gestured toward the door, his manner shifting into something perhaps gentlemanly. He escorted her to the exit, holding the door open with a flourish, his eyes never leaving her. As she stepped outside, the door slammed shut behind her with a resounding bang.

She jumped, startled again, before muttering under her breath.

“Weirdo…”

Selen arrived at the designated spot, still uncertain about Silas’s intentions. She glanced up toward their window at the Siren’s Rest Inn. There, she caught sight of him waving at her, a smile stretched across his face, his eyes closed in an unsettling show of contentment. He disappeared from view as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Selen with a familiar expression of disbelief.

“Weirdo…” she muttered under her breath again, shaking her head slightly.

Inside the room, Silas stretched, rolling his right shoulder before shaking out his arm. A few rotations of his wrist followed, as if he were warming up for something. He had cleaned up his setup from moments earlier, erasing every possibly trace that could hint at what was created. The room now looked as sterile as when they had first entered.

Silas was in an oddly cheerful mood, a slow, low tune coming up in his throat. He whistled softly, the sound echoing through the room as he made his way to the door. The faint smile on his face didn’t waver as he exited and started down the hallway, heading toward the room where the receptionist had indicated the "kind" stranger was staying.

As he passed through the halls, a young woman with auburn hair, slightly pointed ears and dark grey skin perked up. She turned her head towards Silas, her eyes bright with recognition. “Viraxian Lament? That’s such a nice song!” she said, her voice warm with enthusiasm.

Silas paused mid-step, turning to face her with a soft chuckle. “I agree wholeheartedly,” he replied. “Though, don’t you think the lyrics are a bit unfair?”

The woman tilted her head in thought. “Well, it sings about the fall of a Great Elven House, doesn’t it? It has to be unfair to the killer, right?”

Silas grinned. “Perhaps so,” he mused. “Are you an employee or a guest here?”

“Oh, I’m a courier for the Magicraft Guild,” she answered quickly. “Had a delivery for another guest.”

Feeling particularly generous from meeting a fellow fan of the song, Silas reached into his robes and revealed his Special Inspector badge. “What a fortunate encounter,” he said smoothly, slipping the badge back into place.

“Would you do me a favor? I require a small jar of Amerithium shavings. I’m currently fulfilling a request for Lord Magistrate Lachlan of Rhysling, and I’ll need the shavings for several serums that could prove necessary for my investigation.”

The woman’s eyes widened with recognition as she quickly nodded. “How soon do you need them, Lord Inspector?”

“Ji will do fine,” Silas corrected with a smile. “If you can run as fast as you can to retrieve them now, I’ll let you forward any price you wish to the Magistra-.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before the courier vanished, no doubt sprinting at top speed to carry out the order. Silas chuckled softly to himself, resuming his slow, steady whistle as he continued down the hallway, the song growing ever more melancholic.

He reached the door of his target, the low whistle fading as he placed his hand on the knob.

Inside the room, the mysterious man sat at a small table, pouring two cups of tea. His top hat and cloak had been removed, revealing a stocky frame. His eyes, if one looked closely, flickered between shades of red and orange, the colors shifting and swirling in his irises like embers in a fire.

The man heard the approach of the whistling tune and sighed, already anticipating the arrival of trouble. “Quite a free-spirited one,” he muttered to himself, lifting one of the tea cups. “Now let’s see if we can come to an agreement, Mr. Ji.”

As the door creaked open, the man closed his eyes and turned around, trying to project an air of mystery. With a grand, wide gesture of his arms, he called out, “Welcome, Seni—” But his voice cut off, his eyes snapping open mid-sentence, an expression of pure shock crossing his face.

Standing in the doorway, Silas's face contorted into a snarl filled with loathing, his hand already in motion. Without saying a word, he hurled something directly at the man, before leaping away from the door. Time seemed to slow as the object flew through the air.

The man’s reflexes kicked in, his body moving with lightning speed as he stretched out a hand to catch it.

The moment the object made contact with his palm, there was a sickening crack of glass. Before the man could register what was happening, the sound of shattering filled his ears, followed by the deafening boom of a cataclysmic explosion.

The blast ripped through the room with such ferocity that the very air seemed to ignite. A wave of heat, intense enough to sear flesh from bone, consumed the space, followed by a monstrous shockwave that tore through the walls like they were paper. The force of the detonation hurled furniture into the air, splintering wood and shredding fabric in an instant.

The man, standing at the epicenter of the blast, didn’t even have time to scream. The fireball that enveloped him reduced him to nothing but a silhouette, his form vanishing in a split second beneath the consuming flames. The shockwave obliterated his body, leaving only a pair of feet standing awkwardly amidst the destruction, blackened stumps of charred bone jutting out from where his legs had once been.

The room was transformed into a hellish inferno, flames licking up the walls hungry for more, devouring everything in sight. The ceiling collapsed under the pressure of the explosion, caving in with a deafening roar.

Glass shattered outward, raining down onto the streets below, where panicked screams echoed as the fire spread. A large chunk of the inn crumbled, the once-beautiful building reduced to a smoldering ruin in seconds.

Outside, the chaos unfolded in an instant. People scrambled to flee the burning wreckage, their faces pale with terror as they screamed for help, the thick stench of smoke and scorched wood filling the air.

The once-calm night was shattered by the sight of the flaming inn.