Visionless

Adam walked a few paces behind Ren, watching the determination in his friend's stride. Ren moved like a man possessed, his shoulders stiff, his pace brisk, and his focus unyielding. It was unsettling. Adam had seen people consumed by anger before, but this was different. Ren's fury was cold, calculated, and simmering just beneath the surface.

Adam's mind churned with thoughts, grappling with how to change Ren's course before things spiraled out of control. Killing isn't the answer, he thought for the hundredth time. It never is. Violence just breeds more problems—and more pain.

It wasn't that Adam was naïve. He understood that this world operated on harsher rules than the one he came from. Violence was often a language here, a currency traded among those with power or desperation. But that didn't mean he had to like it—or participate in it. A few days ago, he had gone on a full-blown internal monologue about it. Violence solves nothing. It only begets more violence. He could practically hear himself saying it.

He sighed, his thoughts tugging him back to the present. "I only agreed to this so I can make sure Ren doesn't do something stupid," he muttered under his breath. It was partly true. Ren wasn't just a friend—he was Adam's closest friend in this bizarre world, which was surprising, considering how different they were. Their personalities were practically opposites: Ren, with his sharp edges and brooding nature, and Adam, who preferred to keep things light, even in dire circumstances. And yet, despite those differences—or maybe because of them—they'd grown close.

Ren was stubborn, sure, but beneath that tough exterior was someone worth protecting. And as far as Adam was concerned, the Friend Code was crystal clear: Help your friends, even if it means saving them from themselves.

Still, this situation was testing his limits. "Rescuing Naya, I can get behind," Adam thought. "But murdering a priest or whoever she's married to? That's where I draw the line."

He clenched his fists in frustration. His plan was simple—at least in theory. Find Naya. See if she's okay. If she's fine, we try to talk to her. If she's not, we get her out. No bloodshed unless it's absolutely unavoidable.

Adam's eyes flicked to Ren, who was marching ahead like a man with nothing to lose. But how do I convince him to go along with that? Adam wasn't sure. Words hadn't worked so far, and every time he brought up alternatives, Ren shut him down.

As they walked, Adam's mind wandered to their unlikely friendship. It's strange, he thought. For two people with almost nothing in common, we've somehow become... important to each other. Ren was guarded, intense, and driven by a past Adam only partially understood. Adam, on the other hand, was a self-proclaimed pacifist who preferred sarcasm and pragmatism over brute force. Yet here they were, side by side in this mess.

Adam let out a slow breath and tried to steady his thoughts. This isn't just about Naya. This is about Ren. About keeping him from crossing a line he might never come back from.

"Hey, Ren," Adam finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was casual, but there was an edge of seriousness to it. "You've been walking like you're trying to outrun your thoughts. What's the plan when we find her?"

Ren didn't stop or turn around, but his voice carried back over his shoulder, low and grim. "The plan doesn't change. We take her, and if he gets in the way, he's done for."

Adam's chest tightened. He needed to find a way to shift Ren's perspective before it was too late. For now, though, he just followed, his mind racing with possibilities, and his heart heavy with the weight of what was coming.

Adam's heart raced as he watched Ren's shoulders tense and his pace falter. His friend wasn't thinking clearly—driven not by logic, but by the storm of emotions tearing through him. Anger, regret, despair—they were all there, fueling Ren's reckless resolve. Adam knew he had to intervene, but it was a delicate line to tread. Pushing too hard might snap what little composure Ren had left.

"Ren," Adam began cautiously, his tone steady but firm. "That's a terrible plan, and you know it."

Ren stopped abruptly, his back still to Adam. The tension in the air was palpable, like a rope pulled taut, ready to snap. Adam hesitated, then continued, choosing his words carefully. "If your haste puts Naya in danger... then what?"

That word—Naya—seemed to hit Ren like a physical blow. His shoulders heaved with a sharp breath, and for a moment, something primal flickered through his demeanor. His human appearance wavered, distorted, as if the mask he wore to blend into society was slipping. His frame seemed to grow larger, his posture more feral, and a low, guttural growl rumbled from his throat—a sound that sent a shiver down Adam's spine. It was the unmistakable growl of a tiger.

Got it, Adam thought, gripping onto the faint thread of control he still had in the situation. If anything was going to bring Ren back from the brink, it was focusing on Naya's safety. He leaned into that angle, hoping it would be enough to ground his friend.

"If you go charging in without a plan," Adam continued, his voice calm but with an edge of urgency, "you're only increasing the chances of something going horribly wrong. Think about it, Ren. Do you even know if she's home? What about her husband? Where does he go during the day? How rich is he? Does he have guards? And what if..." He hesitated, knowing this next part would sting. "What if she has a child, Ren? What if your actions endanger her or—heaven forbid—her family?"

Ren turned slightly, just enough for Adam to catch the faintest glimmer of conflict in his eyes. He wasn't gone yet. Adam pressed on, softening his tone but keeping it steady.

"I'm with you, Ren," Adam said, stepping closer. "You know I am. But if we're going to do this, we need to do it right. We scout first. We gather information. We make a plan to ensure no one gets hurt—especially not Naya."

Adam could feel the weight of his own words. He hated the tone he was using, manipulative and invasive. It wasn't something he was proud of, but it was a skill he'd picked up over the years—one he'd learned the hard way after being manipulated himself. He told himself it was necessary now, a means to an end. He'd apologize later, once the danger had passed.

Ren's growl subsided, and the tension in his frame began to ease. Slowly, his shoulders dropped, and the faint shadow of his tiger form receded. Adam exhaled quietly in relief, knowing he had at least bought them some time.

"Fine," Ren muttered, his voice low and strained. "We'll scout first. But if anything seems off, we move immediately. No delays."

"Deal," Adam said, nodding. Inside, he was still anxious, but outwardly he managed a reassuring smile. "We'll do this the right way, Ren. Together. For Naya."

As Ren started walking again, a little calmer but still resolute, Adam followed, his mind racing with ways to de-escalate further. He knew they were far from out of the woods, but at least, for now, he had steered Ren away from outright chaos.

I'll apologize later, Adam thought again. But right now, keeping him in check is all that matters—even if it means playing dirty.

Adam adjusted his pace, walking slightly behind Ren, studying him carefully. The tension in Ren's frame had lessened, but the storm within him was far from settled. Adam needed to keep him focused, grounded, and—most importantly—away from impulsive decisions.

"So, what do we know about her right now?" Adam asked, his voice calm and measured, trying to guide Ren into a more analytical state.

Ren exhaled sharply, his hands balling into fists as he spoke. "She's been seen living in the house of a head priest from the Central Church of Fera in the capital. His name's... Norman Hubert, or something like that." Ren's tone was bitter, but there was a tremble underneath it—an unspoken fear. "They're in the wealthy district. Makes sense why we couldn't find her before—my intelligence network doesn't reach that far."

Ren paused, glancing at the ground as though the weight of his thoughts might crush him. "And if..." His voice cracked slightly. "If what you said about her having children is true, then I might already be too late. But I can't accept that. I promised to keep her safe. I promised her."

Adam nodded slowly, sensing Ren's resolve mixed with his doubt. This was progress—Ren was talking instead of acting recklessly. Adam decided to push the conversation further. "Do you know which house she's staying in? If we can pinpoint it, we can stake it out for a few days, figure out their daily routines. Once we know the patterns, we can plan our move."

Ren's shoulders stiffened, and he turned slightly, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "A plan? What kind of plan?"

Adam raised a hand to calm him, lowering his voice. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We're in an open area. Even if it seems empty, someone could overhear us. Let me explain when we're safer."

Ren frowned but nodded, his eagerness slightly tempered.

After a few more steps, Adam continued, pitching his idea carefully. "Alright, here's what I'm thinking. If her husband's a priest, he probably has responsibilities at the church, right? So, we spend a few days observing the house, getting a feel for their schedule. Once we know his routine, we can split up."

Ren leaned in, his interest piqued. "Go on."

"You'd approach Naya while I handle the priest," Adam explained. "I'll find a way to delay him—keep him at the church or somewhere else for a few hours. That gives you time to talk to her, to figure out if she's okay. We need to approach this carefully, Ren. Rushing in without knowing the situation could backfire. And if she's happy—if she's safe—you'll need to be prepared to accept that."

Ren's expression softened, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning Adam's face for any sign of doubt. Slowly, his back straightened, and the familiar determination returned to his posture. "This... this could work. I knew I could count on you, Adam."

Adam offered a faint smile, but inwardly his thoughts raced. It's a start, he thought, but the plan wasn't without its flaws. What if Ren's emotions get the better of him when he sees her? What if she's built a new life and doesn't want to leave? Worse, what if it's not her at all—just someone who looks like her?

He silently resolved to stick close during the execution of the plan. Ren's judgment was clouded, and Adam didn't trust him to act rationally in a high-stakes situation.

As they walked, Adam observed Ren's movements closely. His friend seemed to carry himself with more confidence, but Adam could see the cracks in the facade. Ren was still grappling with the weight of his emotions, and Adam knew that he had to be ready for anything.

Whatever happens, I'll be there to keep this from spiraling out of control, Adam thought. For Ren. For Naya. For all of us.

(Never thought I'd care about someone this much, but here we are...) Adam mused, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. I'll chalk it up to this new brain of mine—seems like it's wired to be more... compassionate.

He quickened his pace to catch up with Ren, muttering under his breath, "Caring for other people is exhausting."

The pair walked in silence for a while, the quiet broken only by the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps on the uneven cobblestones. Adam's mind began to churn, using the long walk to the wealthy district—no, the noble district—to sort through the chaos in his thoughts.

(This is going to take time; the district isn't close, and it's bound to be heavily guarded. Perfect. That means I have some breathing room to think—really think—about everything that's happened these past few days.)

He adjusted his stride, falling into step just behind Ren. I've been putting this off, haven't I? Intentionally so. Some of it's self-preservation—if I dive too deep into certain memories or thoughts, I'll just spiral. And spiraling right now would be a luxury I can't afford.

Adam stared ahead, his gaze unfocused. Let's face it: I don't love this life. But as much as I complain, I still want to live it. That's the kicker, isn't it? I can hate it and still want to cling to it with both hands. So, for the love of everything, world—don't throw me any curveballs. I don't think I can handle more than I already have.

He stole a glance at Ren. The man seemed focused, walking with an intensity that suggested he was already in the noble district in his mind. But Adam knew better. Ren was still raw, still wrestling with emotions that threatened to boil over. Adam felt a pang of guilt. I've agreed to help him, but it's more to stop him from doing something reckless than anything else. Does that make me a bad friend? Or is that just pragmatism?

Adam sighed again, his thoughts slowing into a calmer rhythm. One step at a time. First, we get there. Then, we gather intel. Then, we act. But whatever happens, I need to stay sharp—not for me, but for Ren. He's counting on me, even if he doesn't realize it.

With that, Adam adjusted his pace once more, ensuring he remained side by side with Ren. The long walk stretched ahead of them,

(Why do I care about this?) Adam thought as his feet carried him forward. I could've just asked the queen for help. She probably would've said yes. But... something about that felt wrong. Like this isn't just a mission—like it's personal. Which is weird, because outside of knowing Ren a little, I have no reason to care this much.

His brow furrowed, his thoughts spiraling deeper. Maybe it's this kid's brain I've got, all fresh and kind, not jaded by life yet. But even that doesn't sit right.

A memory flickered, unbidden. Edward.

(Why did I save him?) The thought came like a punch. Why did I tell him anything about myself? Adam's chest tightened. That's not me. I don't just open up like that. I don't—

He clenched his fists, frustration mounting. This doesn't make sense. Nothing about it makes sense. Let's go back. Edward was furious with me for stealing his crossbow, and that's fair, but his anger was deeper than that. It was about his brother. Okay, fine. But why did I even steal the crossbow? How did I get him to follow me?

Adam stopped in his tracks, his blood running cold. Wait... how could I have forgotten this already? It wasn't that long ago. How can something so important feel... blurry? That's not right. That's not normal.

His breathing quickened. He forced himself to focus, replaying the events in his mind. Why did I save him? What was my reasoning?

The answer came to him, quiet but undeniable. It felt right.

His heart pounded as the words sank in. What the hell does that mean?

It wasn't enough. It wasn't an answer. He needed an answer. He tried to kill me, for crying out loud! And yet I helped him. And somehow, he calmed down. Somehow, he didn't try to kill me again. Why? How?

Adam's head felt heavy, his thoughts careening into darker places. This isn't normal. This isn't how people work. It's like... it's like me and everyone else are being... controlled.

The word lingered in his mind, festering.

(Controlled.)

A shiver ran down Adam's spine as he looked around, as if the shadows themselves were alive, watching. The cobblestone street stretched endlessly before him, its edges darker than they should've been. What's happening to me? What's happening to everyone?

His fingers trembled as he pressed them to his temples, trying to shake off the creeping dread. But it was no use. A feeling he couldn't name wrapped around his chest like a vice, and it wouldn't let go.

(Something's wrong. Something's very wrong. And the worst part? I'm not even sure it's me that's noticing—or something else entirely.)

(No, no, stop—cut it out! I'm spiraling, dammit!) Adam clenched his fists, shaking his head as if to physically jostle the invasive thoughts loose. Focus, Adam. Get it together. You're an adult, for crying out loud! You can handle... eldritch horrors. Totally. No problem. Piece of cake.

He took a deep breath, letting out a slow, exaggerated sigh. (Alright. Let's think logically here. Controlling people outright? That'd be dumb. If something could control us completely, why bother hiding it? Why keep us 'free'? It doesn't add up.)

Adam rubbed his temple, the pieces of his jumbled puzzle falling into something resembling order. (Okay, maybe we're not being controlled. Maybe... coerced. What if this thing—whatever it is—isn't pulling strings but planting seeds? Little ideas, tiny nudges to steer us down a specific path. It's not driving, it's... GPS-ing? No, that sounds stupid. But you get the idea.)

His pacing slowed, a wry grin creeping onto his face. (If that's true, it's not all-powerful. Hell, it might not even be competent! I mean, if this thing really knew what it was doing, why leave us with free will at all? What kind of cosmic entity screws up its own control scheme? Amateur hour much?)

He let out a dry chuckle, feeling a flicker of confidence return. (Right. So here's the plan: consistent mental journaling. Keep tabs on my thoughts, write down anything weird, and double-check that I'm still me. Stay vigilant. And hey, if that doesn't work, maybe I'll take up sudoku. A sharp mind beats spooky brain shenanigans every time.)

Then, a flash of stubborn rebellion lit in his mind. (Oh, and if you're listening, you yellow, four-eyed freak fish lurking in my brain—screw you! That's right, I'm talking to you. I'm going to eat fish for every meal just to spite you. Sushi, sashimi, fish sticks—you name it. You'll be dinner before I'm a puppet. How's that for free will?)

Adam straightened his back and kept walking, muttering under his breath, "Fish. Every day. Out of spite."

"...What? The fuck are you on about? Is that part of the plan?" Ren asked, shooting Adam a look that was equal parts confusion and concern. 

Adam blinked at him, as if his train of thought had suddenly derailed and crashed into the station. "Oh, yeah! Totally part of the plan. When we succeed, we can celebrate with fish. Like... every day. Cats like fish, right?" 

Ren stared at him, his expression shifting from confusion to mild exasperation. "...You're unbelievable." 

Adam grinned, shrugging as they continued walking. "Hey, a plan's not a plan without a good reward at the end. Fish is as good as it gets."

__________________________________

"We're here. That should be the house—or, I guess, mansion," Ren said softly, crouched on the rooftop. His voice was quiet but carried an edge, his eyes fixed on the grand estate below. Adam lay beside him, pressed flat against the roof to avoid being seen. 

"Okay then," Adam whispered, squinting into the darkness. "See anything? Kinda dark for my eyes." 

Ren's gaze stayed sharp, scanning the grounds. "Not much. A few maids or workers moving around. Three guards stationed outside. If I had to guess, they're probably in the bedroom right now…" His tone soured, bitterness creeping in as he clenched his jaw at the thought of Naya and Norman together, sharing a private moment in the room. 

"Ren. Hey, Ren. No—no bad thoughts," Adam interjected quickly, trying to steer him back on track. "It's late, okay? They're probably just sleeping, especially if they're priests—they've got early mornings. And we don't even know if they share a bedroom. It could be separate. Now focus. Do you see anything useful? A balcony or a roof window? Anything we can use to get in quietly? And tell me the general layout of the place while you're at it—I need to know where all the exits are." 

Ren inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down. "Sure. There's a balcony on the second floor, and there might be roof windows, but I can't tell from here. As for the layout…" He paused, carefully describing what he could see: the sprawling building, its large number of windows and doors, the wide courtyard, and the general positioning of the guards. 

Adam nodded thoughtfully, processing the details. "That's... not great, but it could be worse. This place is massive—lots of windows, lots of doors, and probably crawling with maids, butlers, and who knows what else. If we're going to do this, it needs to be at night. Very late." He hesitated, thinking. "Actually, early morning might be even better. That's when Norman's likely to leave for work. I'll follow him tomorrow to get a sense of his routine. Meanwhile, you stay here and keep an eye on Naya. Watch for any patterns—see if she does anything regularly that we can use. And while you're at it, memorize the general shape of the building and sketch it out for me later. It'll help us plan." 

Ren nodded, his tense posture easing just a fraction. "Got it." 

"Good," Adam whispered. "This has to go perfectly, Ren. No mistakes. No noise. And no trouble."