Lorin
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Chapter 42: Caretaker's favour
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 13:30:27 +0000 UTC“What the hell!” Samuel yelped and staggered into the kneeling John. John moved like a whirlwind, turning to catch the teen before they both fell onto the corpse. He was the first person I’d ever seen with a speed blessing, and watching it made me feel… things. I had cool explosive strings, but John moved like the characters in a video tape when you fast forwarded it.
“Watch it!” John snarled and pushed Samuel back. He slammed against the wall and bounced to his knees like a flipper ball.
“Ouch,” he whimpered and glared my way.
I scratched my neck, and try to play it off with a chuckle. “Sorry…”
***
I looked at them, sweat colouring my white undershirt dark. “There…” I moaned and eased the engine to the floor. Despite my care, it still let out a metallic clang as I let it go. “Now how do you propose we get it back?”
Prying the engine loose myself was the only thing that got them off my back for the little mishap. I leaned back against the wall, wiping sweat off my brow. My throat stung, I was parched. I rummaged through my satchel for a small canteen Joanna had given me a few days before my run in with the doctor. The lukewarm water slid into, putting out the raging fire of my thirst.
I heaved in a breath between deep swigs of the canteen. I glanced down at the engine, brows knitted. As I thought. Even with burst, the engine is heavy as shit.
“We haul it back,” John said flatly.
I raised an eyebrow, and continued to focus on catching my breath.
He looked around. “Surely there’s something we could use to transport it. Have you checked all the corridors?”
“All but two,” I exhaled.
“Then I suggest we start there.”
“Great idea. Remind me why I had to do this before knowing if we even have a way of transporting it back?”
He grinned. “To repent of course.”
I lamented and added vindictive down to my mental notes about him.
***
The next hallway was much the same as the rest. Where it ended, a large door adorned the wall. The others waited patiently as I fumbled my way through the myriad of possible keys. I opened the door and felt my heart sink.
“There was a bed here this whole fucking time...” I said.
The bedroom was large, and had all the amenities you needed to survive in a post apocalyptic underground city. There was even a bathroom in the back.
I groaned and plopped down on the bed.
“Where did you stay?” Samuel asked, looking rummaging through the boxes of a working desk.
“Apart from the hook? Down the corridor where the jailor is.”
He gestured to the room and shrugged. “Uh. Why?”
“Because I didn’t know this place existed! And I didn’t really feel like sticking around after that damn tentacle-mist-thing assaulted me.”
Nea stopped her frantic search through a cupboard of memorabilia. “Tentacle thing?”
“Yeah. It was in a safe down another hall. Locked the door, burned the key. I ain’t ever letting anyone in there again.”
“What was it?”
My heart rate spiked. Crimson runes formed in the air behind her, then faded just as quickly.
[Stop.]
That’s new.
I cleared my throat, and thanked my lucky stars Samara wasn’t here. “Uh. Dunno. Didn’t seem very dangerous. It was more discomforting than anything, really.”
I chuckled and scratched my neck.
Nea regarded me suspiciously, then nodded. “Right…”
“Guys!” John shouted and paced out from the bathroom. “Check this out!”
He held up a golden medallion depicting a woman in a loose fitting dress. She clasped her hands and tilted her face upward, eyes closed in silent reverence.
Caretaker’s favour
Rank: Unsung
Type: Charm
Description: It is said that all caretakers turned on the wayward daughter when the wars started. All to receive favour of their own.
Embroidery: Motherly love
Effect: Continuously repairs the wielder
I clicked my tongue. Of course one two fucking places has a great accolade.
“Wayward daughter…” Nea mouthed. She turned to me, eyebrows raised in question.
I grunted in response. How should I know? I’d been here for less time than she had. The fact that they let all these mysteries lay was by itself wholly odd to me. Adventure lay around the corner and they cowered in their rooms.
Isn’t this what everyone dreamt of? An exciting life with your life on the line. Riches and adventure awaiting discovery?
I sure dreamt of it. An exciting life away from it all. If only I could have the game like security of starting over whenever I died…
As I thought about it. Maybe never returning wasn’t so bad after all. As long as I got this food issue under control. Maybe James, apart from his traitorous nature, hadn’t been quite as mad as I made him out to be. Maybe making a career out of this wasn’t so outlandish. It wasn’t that far off from being a regular soldier. Just, instead of spreading a country’s dominion, I would be protecting earth from the invading scourge. Nipping the problem in the bud.
“Dibs!” Samuel called out and reached for the medallion.
John smiled and pulled it away, leaving Sam’s fingers to grasp at air. “And why would I let you do that?” he asked.
“Because I’m a kid and I have no accolades.”
He chuckled and kept Samuel away with an arm, always pushing hi just out of reach while teasing, “You? A child? No… You’ve made it clear enough that you aren’t.”
Samuel clicked his tongue and turned away.
“I’ll take it,” Nea said and stepped forward. John didn’t make an effort to keep the medallion away from her.
He smiled. “The only sensible choice.”
I raised my brow. “Why?”
“Accolades that play well with blessings just make more sense.”
I nodded. Her sturdy body would be way more frightening with the power to repair itself. Like a human tank.
“Ready to move on?” I asked while John helped Nea put on the necklace.
Samuel groaned. “Yes.”
We moved to the last corridor. Much was the same. Altars lined the walls, cracks the floors. In the far end of it there was a large door with no way to peek inside. It was made of wood, all good doors so far had, so I was expectant.
I opened the door and froze, staring at the insides with wide eyes. I gulped and turned to the others. “Let’s not,” I whispered. Nea shoved me aside to get a look inside, and froze just the same as I.
She stared out over the rows upon rows of benches, all filled with the slumped bodies of metal skinned, engine wearing monstrosities. All filled with jailors.
“They… They’re not breathing,” Samuel whispered and tugged at my shirt. I nodded and looked further inside. They were all turned toward a pulpit that stood erect on a small stage. Their heads hanged down as if in reverent prayer. The room was deathly silent. Not even the sound of wind rustling the beautiful scenes woven into the fabrics lining the walls could be heard.
John ambled his way past us. “I’ll take a look. Be ready to run.”
His shoes struck the floor soft as the wind, barely making any noise at all. He stalked to the closest bench, and leaned in over the slumped jailor. The rest of us collectively held our breaths as he studied the monster up close.
He waved at us. “They’re dead…”
Nea shoved me inside. I staggered but stayed on my feet, glaring at her. For being the sturdiest of us all, she sure as shit was the one most scared. Or she just saw the rest of us as expendable. I grumbled and walked over to John, seeing what he did.
The jailors had their throats slit. Blood had dried on their chests like aprons. They wore accolades aplenty. I gulped, and glanced at John who wore the same covetous expression as I did.
“Should we…?” he asked and reached for the amulet hanging around its throat. It looked much the same as the one Nea now wore, only the body language of the woman wasn’t the same. Her hands were pulled behind her back, her face turned to the sky as if forced. Most importantly, there were no runes to describe it.
I caught his hand before he could tug the amulet loose. “Let’s look around first. This place has a way of… keeping you on your toes.”
He nodded seriously and looked to Nea and Samuel. “Spread out. Take nothing before we know things are safe.” I hadn’t expected him to back down without complaint like this. Maybe my influence was growing. Maybe seeing the jailor’s corpse was enough to proof that I wasn’t a pushover. Although that battle had been mostly luck, the ones against the hand holder and the doctor hadn’t.
John kept his eyes on Samuel, he squirmed but agreed, somewhat reluctantly. Nea didn’t complain. She worked well with John after they managed to put the whole hostage situation behind them.
I gave him a pat on the shoulder walked away from the group to investigate the pulpit. Behind it, a large statue of the woman depicted on the amulets spread her arms to her sides in an attempt to fit the entire room in her embrace. There was a golden hue to the statue that made it feel… divine. I walked close and ran my hand against its surface. It was smooth, and cold to the touch. Even the creases of skin had been beautifully chiseled into the statue. The artist had been skilled enough to rival whoever earth had produced in its glory days.
I looked back to the others, they were all busy inspecting the rows of jailors. I summoned Silent scream hoping to find Sera lazilly staring back at me.
“Why did you stop me before? And also, I didn’t know you could do that…” I whispered, and saw my reflection’s lips move in perfect synchrony to mine. Smalls steps clicked against the paved floor leading up to the altar.
I turned and saw Nea just before she could slap me on the shoulder. I nimbly sidestepped the hand that would have left a burning red mark. She grinned mischievously. Like we were better friends that we actually were.
“What’re you doing?” she asked with a smile, as if she hadn’t just tried to scare me shitless.
I slipped the dagger into my sleeve. “Uh, nothing. Just talking to myself, trying to make sense of this place.” I gazed back up at the statue. It was breathtaking. The amount of detail testified to the hundreds of hours someone had spent on this piece—only for it to rot in a zombified city somewhere deep underground.
I sighed and felt the crevices of the statues folded skirt with my hand. “Could she have been the Wayward daughter?”
“More like the caretaker,” she snickered. “I wish we could bring stuff like this back. It would make for a nice garden decoration.”
I sidestepped past her to the pulpit. “You have a garden?” I asked and flipped through the pages of the book. Runes of black ink covered the pages, creating an intricate weave of patterns.
The same runes that were used to describe reality through magic, the same runes that made the threads wrote in infinity to create the veil. It seemed to have been a language back when this place still thrived. Maybe something like Latin back home.
“Don’t you?” she asked with a smirk. I had already half forgotten we were talking.
“Uh. I suppose I do.”
“Where do you live actually? London?”
I turned and smiled. “No, France.”
She raised her brows. “Why?”
“Calmer. My grandmother sent me there to not disturb the peace back home. We’re not on the best of terms.”
“Grandmother as in Dorothea?”
“That’s the one.”
“I still can’t quite get over the fact that you’re a Kane.”
“What? We famous or something?” I snorted and flipped to another page, tracing the runes with my finger. The uneven surfaces and indentations made it all feel much more real than the runes that made up the veil.
“Not like the Solburnes, or the Order. But as far as civilians go I’d say you’re up there.” She looked me up and down. “Well… Maybe not you, specifically. But your family.”
I clicked my tongue and waved her off, then turned to the book. Tracing the title of the page while mouthing the words. “Where the world forgot to turn.”
