"Help me… somebody, hel—!" The woman cried, crawling away. "It's out to get me! Ahhh… I'm not ready! You told me I still had time… Are you backing off your deal?" she muttered, eyes wide with terror.
Remy turned from the kiosk and rushed to her side."Hey, what's wrong? How can I help?" Remy asked, voice trembling.
"Can't you see it?" She whispered, her bulging eyes full of dread. "Please… please, I'm not ready yet. Please!"
Her body began to wither in his arms, skin wrinkling, shrinking, as if something was draining her blood away.
"Nweeee… Nweeee…" A child's cry pierced the street, but nobody moved.
"Help! Somebody—who here is a doctor?!" Remy shouted, clutching the shriveled woman, but the crowd only stared. They did nothing. Just watched—like it was normal, like this was just another day in August.
"Hello, sir, can I be of help to you?" the woman behind the office asked, shuffling through a stack of parchments. "A miner, you say…? Yes, we have new spokes that opened up. The miners recently found an old deposit," she murmured. There was neither tremble nor fear in her tone.
"Have you no compassion?" Remy's voice boomed, and for a moment the room fell silent. But soon the people returned to their work, unfazed.
"Hold on… hold on, I'll take you to the hospital," Remy said, lifting the woman into his arms. But then her body began to crumble. First her hand—it turned to sand, disintegrating, her limbs collapsing grain by grain like the flow of an hourglass.
"No… don't go… no…" Remy's voice cracked with pain. "Hold on!" But his words brought no comfort. The woman's body entirely dissolved into sand, slipping through his hands.
"Nooo… damn it… damn it!" Remy cried.
"Please… take care of my child," the woman whispered, pushing her baby into Remy's arms.
He held the child close, but it was already too late. The tiny body began to disintegrate, turning to sand in his hands.
Remy watched, helpless, as the child dissolved into nothing. Tears streaked down his face."Damn it… damn it… damn it! Why am I so weak?" He cried, his voice breaking. "What's the point of me even training, ha…" His face twisted, veins bulging as guilt and rage carved a scowl across it.
"Calm down, Remy," Chad's voice rang out as he pulled him back."They're gone… There's nothing you can do, mate. Let her go," Charles added, and Remy's resolve crumbled, his body sagging with despair.
"Station two, we need a cleanup," a cool, soft feminine voice rang, cutting through the buzz.
Remy's eyes darted around, searching the faces of the people. To his horror, they went about their day as if nothing had happened.
And then he heard it—reverberating through his skull like a broken record, stern and harsh, a voice that did not belong to anyone around him. It spoke:
"Humans, Remy… Humans—there is nothing fickler. They think themselves civilized, but they are nothing more than animals, driven by desire, greed, lust, and a yearning to control. They would do anything to get what they want, without regard for the consequences. So be careful, boy… there is no greater danger than humans."
Remy's eyes scanned the room. He was helpless.
"Good morning, sir. How may I be of assistance to you today?" The woman spoke once more, catching Remy's attention.Her tone never changed, the same as when she had asked the question before.
"Yes… I come looking for employment," Chad muttered, his resolve set now. We have to figure out what's going on and leave here as soon as possible, he thought to himself, steeling his mind.
"Employment… mmm," the woman murmured as she perused through the sheets of parchment. "What skills do you possess, and what restrictions might you have that would prevent you from performing strenuous tasks?" she asked, glancing over Charles as she slid on her glasses. A large grin stretched across her mouth.
"Umm… umm… I'm good with physical labor. I used to work on a plantation," Chad responded, his words stumbling out of his mouth. True, he had been brave all his life, but for the first time in a while, Chad felt true fear—fear of not being able to detect his own actions, of losing control. Since they had to hide their use of the Mystic, he felt vulnerable. Perhaps it was fortunate—or perhaps not—that he did not use his vision to gaze into the Veil, for if he had, he would have seen horrors that might have driven him mad.
"How old did you say you were again…?" the woman interjected. Her eyes stayed fixed on Chad—unblinking and wide; here pupils stretched the lines, showing as if they were deluded. When she finally blinked, it was slow, deliberate, and unnatural.
"I… I didn't say," Chad muttered, a frown tugging at his lips, though his voice betrayed unease.
"So… do pre-tell, how old are you then?" She asked again. Her finger tapped against the table with a precise rhythm, like a clock marking the seconds. Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side—owl-like, patient, predatory.
"I… I… I am twenty years old," Chad stammered, the words tumbling out as his throat tightened. Fear made his tongue clumsy, each syllable heavier than the last.
"Ohhh… truly brilliant. We've found another one," she murmured, almost to herself, though her grin lingered unnervingly wide.
"What…?" Chad shrieked, his voice cracking in panic.
"Oh, nothing. We have the perfect job for you, really. A certain lord has been looking for workers to tend his fields. Truly, this is fate, isn't it? If you would, come tomorrow—I will introduce you to him." She spoke with calm certainty, her earlier words hanging in the air like a shadow.
"Thank you… I will come back tomorrow," Chad forced out, turning away.
"Let's go…" he whispered to his companions, and they all left the town hall, following each other back to their lodging.
"Todollo… Hope to see you again. We would so love to have you with us… in body and soul," a lady by the door spoke, waving her hand. Her voice was low and slow, and a wide grin stretched across her face.