Chapter 644 (2/2)

And in the face of the fact that they had captured the spear-source-

Dammit, but if she was deconstructed-

Shal-

Come.

A voice seemed to flow out of the walls and into her legs and feet. It took several seconds for Lucretia to notice that she was moving without even intending to. That did very little to ease her growing fears. Soon, the panic and loneliness that animated Lucretia in her darkest hours had emerged from within her. All that healing that had occurred inside of Randidly fell away. Mentally, she flailed around when confronted with her fear.

Her inner self reached… and it found her old tools. Cruelty. Viciousness. Hatred. Manipulation. They fit easily into her hands. They had a reassuring coldness to them. Very soon, the trembling that had continued since Lucretia had arrived in this place ceased.

The hallways blurred, and before she knew it, Selfia had brought Lucretia to a door guarded by two of the powerful elite called Witch Kings by the people of Tellus. The two opened the door and Lucretia stepped reflexively through with an amused smile as she looked at the guards. If people knew that these Witch Kings were just the normal Wights created by the Autarch and not any of the lesser Propagators…

Well, perhaps they did. After all, Shal was able to kill one rather easily, if the stories were to be believed.

Suddenly Lucretia felt a flash of wistfulness. Perhaps she should have visited Shal before she had addressed this issue. But she was so afraid… and she didn’t want him to become involved. If she would endanger him again-

“Good luck,” Selfia said cheerily, and the door closed behind Lucretia with a click. Hopefully, coming here didn’t mean she had to pay with her life.

The room was sparsely decorated; the Autarch was not an ostentatious individual. In fact, the only real furniture was a long metal coat rack that was stuck into the floor at the center of the room. Hanging from it was the Autarch’s cloak. It was a lush thing of black fur, sleek and powerful looking. It seemed that strange colors hid in the fur, and oftentimes it seemed to glow when viewed out of the corner of your eye. Lucretia didn’t doubt from the right angles, rainbows refracted from that fur.

Lucretia had never seen the Autarch wearing the cloak, but it was rumored that he would wear it when he moved for war, and not a minute before. Lucretia believed it. It was an object that stank of death.

The Autarch was standing over the body of a Wight, idly staring at it. Even when she entered, he didn’t seem to notice, just continued to study the Wight. Lucretia calmed her beating heart and did her best not to make a sound. Freezing calmness spread as Lucretia gripped her cruelty and fear tighter and tighter.

“Flawless…” The Autarch whispered, waving a hand. Immediately the spark of light flowed into the Wight, and a Witch King stood, its eyes piercingly bright. The Autarch waved his hand again and the Witch King shattered into nothing. The bits of bone and metal clattered on the ground.

The Autarch turned and faced her. His expression was distant and tired. Beckoning, he said. “Come.”

Her body obeyed before her mind registered what was going on. It was only right beyond his reach that Lucretia managed to stop herself. And part of that was because she looked at the Autarch. She truly looked at him.

He looked old. His back was somewhat bent, and the hair streaming down his back was a pale grey. His bushy eyebrows covered sharp eyes, but his face was a maze of wrinkles. He was not infallible. He could die like they all could. Just like she would. Perhaps hope was not truly lost. In her mind, the dark numbness continued to spread outwards.