The sound of parting air. Atticus and the saint snapped their head to the side to see a figure approaching in a streak of light.
Atticus cursed at not being able to get his answer. The saint was already on her feet, eyes narrowed. And Atticus also stood, and waited for the approaching figure.
A man landed just meters away from them, sinking down to one knee in front of the saint.
"One…" the saint muttered, almost confused.
It's that man. Atticus focused on the man. It was the same man that had accompanied the saint to the Gilded Debt, that had come to warn her in the basement.
"There's trouble," the man, One, simply said.
Atticus didn't miss the sudden drop in temperature. The saint turned toward him, the coldness in her eyes surprising him.
"I'm afraid we'll have to call it a night. Duty calls," she said, walking towards One. She turned to look at him as she got close. "So, what did you decide?"
