Shadow Slave

A while back, Jet had asked herself if she would be able to kill the six Saints aboard the Night Garden if they were to conspire against her.

She had also asked herself what she would do if the entire population of the living ship was taken hostage or turned on her.

The answer to the first question was... yes, probably. She could not be sure, but deep down, she knew that they would not survive a battle against her. Her Aspect was simply too lethal, and the gap in physical prowess between her and the rest of the Saints was simply too vast — in that regard, she was closer to a Supreme than to a Transcendent.

Besides all that... she was simply a killer. That innate quality was hard to define or measure, but those who knew its fatal scent could easily distinguish between those who possessed it and those who did not. Needless to say, the former was many times more dangerous.

It was just that slaying six powerful Saints would not help anyone. Whether she managed to kill them or not, humanity would suffer a grievous loss — so, what was the point in trying?

As for the second question, Jet was honestly not sure. She did, however, know that if things ever came to that, the battle would have already been lost.

And while she would have fought for the cause of her people to the last drop of blood if there was a smallest possibility of victory, only a fool would continue to bleed themselves dry in a battle that had already ended in defeat.

Saving herself to fight another day was an option, too, even if it meant surrendering the Night Garden and millions of souls to the enemy. After all, she would not be able to snatch them from Asterion’s grasp even if she stayed.

So, Jet had been hoping for the best while preparing for the worst possible outcome in secret.

She was ready to escape instead of fighting the six Saints.

Sadly... she had really not expected that Asterion would come for her personally. His presence here complicated things. A lot. Looking at Jet, Asterion chuckled.

”It does complicate things, doesn’t it?”

Jet’s expression darkened.

She remained silent for a few seconds, then said in a disgruntled tone:

“It’s impolite to read a lady’s private thoughts.”

Asterion simply shrugged.

”It’s also impolite to cast all your thoughts and emotions outward as if you were screaming at the top of your lungs — constantly, incessantly, for everyone to hear. Noise, noise, noise... you people are noisy enough to drive a person mad. It’s deafening. I spent a long time learning how to stay sane in the endless cacophony of your souls.”

His lips twisted into a friendly smile.

”So, forgive me for taking a peek at your plans of escape. Granted, you’ve been cunning enough to hide the details of how exactly you were going to run away even from your own mind... but that shouldn’t matter too much.”

The friendly smile suddenly seemed menacing.

”Should it, Miss Jet?”

Jet blinked, having caught herself staring into his golden eyes.

”Wait...”

What... what had she been thinking about? Jet knew that she had prepared an escape strategy. However, no matter how much she tried to remember what it was, she couldn’t. It was as if there was an empty space in her mind where her plan had been... or possibly a tall wall that prevented her from accessing these thoughts.

She tried to hide her fear and glanced at Asterion with the same concerned expression.

”That’s a neat trick. However, do you really think that you can keep me here against my will? I am quite good at improvising as well, you know.”

Asterion laughed.

”I know. But why would you want to leave?”

Jet blinked again, confused.

Indeed. Why would she want to leave?

She vaguely remembered wanting to escape, but could not comprehend why. This was her Citadel, after all. Her people were here; her home was here, too, as well as her beautiful garden.

There seemed to be no reason to leave the Night Garden, and every reason to stay.

Asterion sighed in satisfaction.

”There. That’s better”

Jet glanced at him in a daze.

‘No, wait. Something is not right here.’

It felt like she had forgotten something.

But what was it? She couldn’t put her finger on it.

The other Saints moved, slowly getting closer to the runic circle. Asterion took a step forward, as well, his golden eyes holding her gaze.

”Now, let us...”

But before he could finish the sentence, something strange happened.

Instead of landing on the wooden floor, his foot seemed to sink into it, making Asterion stumble. An expression of surprise appeared on his face, replaced a moment later by a pained grimace.

”Miss Jet. Is your ship... trying to eat me, by any chance?”

Asterion, Nightwalker, and the rest of the Saints were slowly sinking into the floor, as if it were quicksand instead of solid wood. Watching that, Jet frowned thoughtfully. Then, she smiled.

“Ah! I remember now. The plan I improvised.”

Asterion stared at her for a moment, then snarled.

He moved, and the wooden floor around him exploded into splinters. At the same time, Nightwalker — who had been standing closest to Jet — flicked his wrist, sending an ominously gleaming throwing knife at her. The enchanted knife hit Jet in the chest... and passed through her, as if flying through mist.

She gave him a bitter look.

“Bastard. We’ll talk about it later...”

In the next moment, Asterion was standing near her, his hand stretching forward to grab her neck.

But before he could...

Jet vanished without a trace, as if she had never been there.

At the same time, she appeared far below, on the main deck of the Night Garden. Jet lost her balance, fell into a roll, and slid a few meters before jumping to her feet.

All around her, hundreds of people — thousands, possibly — were all staring at her with ominous expressions. Some of them were mundane, some were Awakened, and more than a few were Masters.

All of them, however, seemed to have been enthralled by the Dreamspawn already.

’I’m surrounded by zombies...’

No. Was she the zombie?

Now that Jet was far away from the Dreamspawn, her mind seemed to have been freed from the hex. So, she could remember what she had been planning to do, and why.

‘Escape, huh...’

It was easier said than done when a demented Sovereign was hot on her heels.