Cleo stood in the doorway with her hand glued to the doorknob as she took in the scene.
Two men stood at the far end of the room. One was clearly older than the other, the elder looking like the one in charge. He was also the one Cleo vaguely recognized as the man who walked out onto the stage at midnight just before the trio had made their clever escape. He still wore the tux, but he had lost the jacket along the way. His crisp white shirt had the top couple buttons undone. He regarded the three newcomers like they were expected guests, though his strained smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
The second, younger man barely glanced in their direction. He wore basic black slacks and a deep ruby dress shirt with a short glowing blade hanging from his belt. His light hair was slicked back to reveal a widow's peak. Faint, barely visible scars criss-crossed his jaw, one reaching up just below his eye like a tear mark. His glare was focused solely on the third person in the room.
Maedrian Silver. She stood with her back against the left wall. Her hands were bound together by a rope of deep ruby light, secured to the wall as if magnetized. She struggled against it, pulling her body forwards, but the bindings held fast. She was breathing absolute fire at the two men, perhaps hoping that her glare would be enough to burn them to cinders.
Cleo didn't move. Her friends were forced to squeeze past her into the room and they stood shoulder to shoulder in a defensive line.
The older man raised a hand and flicked his wrist dismissively, rosy tendrils appearing and fading from his fingertips. The door slid out of Cleo's grasp and clicked closed behind her. Her heart ached once more for Nolan, who sat alone just outside.
Cleo attempted to catch Maedrian's eyes, but she refused to look in their direction. Instead she dropped her eyes to the floor, her head hanging in something like defeat and her eyes searching the floor.
The first man clasped his hands behind his back, lifted his pointed nose slightly as he looked at Cleo, then Andy, then Charlie. His eyes swept over them like a metal detector, although Cleo felt he was searching for something very different then metal. She felt the black case grow heavier in her hand.
"I'm impressed," he said steadily, his eyes flickering down to the case in Cleo's hand. "This is the closest you've gotten, Silver," He said the name in a sneer, like it was poison in his mouth. "You may have even succeeded this time if it wasn't for one mistake."
Cleo shifted her weight, gulping down air through her dry throat. The man's words didn't make sense.
"Although, I must ask," he continued, tilting his head in something like pity. "Why children? Do you believe them easier to manipulate? Expendable?" At the last phrase he snapped his head to Maedrian, his tone growing accusatory and sharp as cut glass.
Maedrian was still, eyes boring into the floor. Cleo could only guess what she was feeling. Shame? Rage? Disappointment?
"Who-" Andy started, clearing her throat and starting again, "Who are you? What are you talking about?" She had stepped forwards just a bit, a brave face covering everything except her wary eyes that flickered over the man's face.
"You've been lied to," the man told them, turning away from Maedrian's silence. "Led to believe this little band of rebels is good. And that you were the one who would save us all. Do you truly believe you were the first they recruited to do their dirty work?"
"This time was different."
At the grumbled words, every eye went to Maedrian. Her shoulders crept up towards her ears, her whole body tense. It was unsettling to see her this way, the usually calm and authoritative figure shaking in rage.
The man slammed a hand flat on the table between them, the sound piercing the short lived quiet.
"That's what you said last time!" he shouted, his face contorting in fury. "How many more must you sacrifice for your impossible endeavor, Silver? How many must be lost before you give up?"
Maedrian lifted her head ever so slightly. "As many as it takes."
Cleo's heart pounded in her chest. She couldn't process what was being said, and the apparent history between the adults in the room just added to the confusion. The man's words echoed in her head. Do you truly believe you were the first they recruited.... How many must be lost...
The words bounced around like a wandering screensaver in her head, finally clicking as one absurd explanation made sense.
"There were others? Before us?" Cleo said softly. Only the lingering silence allowed the two men to even hear her questions.
"You have meddled in matters you do not understand," the man insisted, "matters you couldn't possibly know."
The man to his left put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something in a low voice. The first man's expression softened, his hand lifting from the table and his spine slowly straightening.
The man who whispered addressed them now, his right hand continuously clenched in a tight fist.
"There is much you don't know." His words were softer, more sympathetic than the first man's. "My name is Ambrose Ruby. This is Lord Elijah Rose."
Cleo waited impatiently as the man named Ambrose paused. She couldn't take the waiting.
"How many others?"
Ambrose and Elijah exchanged a glance, the latter giving a nod before Ambrose replied, "Two. You are the third."
"Third?" Andy breathed, like she could hardly believe the word existed at all.
Cleo felt the brittle walls that held up her vision of the Goldari rebellion come crashing down around her. Her legs were barely strong enough to carry her. She knew there were things they didn't tell them. Of course there were. But this... How could she not know?
And if this was true, who else knew?
Nolan, Cassian, Remie? If they knew and kept it from them... How did she know they could be trusted? What else would they hide?
The bond formed between the trio and their Champion friends started to crack like a pipe about to burst.
"That's not true," Charlie said, their voice shaking uncontrollably.
But Maedrian's refusal to look them in the eye was confirmation enough. She continued to hang her head, twisting away from the trio and silently making Ambrose's words fact.
"What happened to them?" Andy asked.
The two men exchanged another glance. Ambrose looked at the floor, clearing his throat. He was very clearly preparing himself to deliver some bad news.
Whatever the news was, he was saved from that task by a pair of people who came barreling through the right hand door.
Remie and Cassian, both beaten and breathing heavily, threw open the door and stumbled in. They had been sprinting, continuing to burst into the room a few paces before they stopped to look around.
Remie was still in her outfit from before, with some rips and snags thrown in; the embellished bodice and practical dark green pants she had worn beneath the skirt and matching low heels Cleo was dimly impressed by, considering how she looked as if she had been running. Clutched in one hand was a crumpled stack of papers, filled with black inky scribbles. Seeing her again made Cleo's mind wander to the painful memory of Rowana.
Cassian, on the other hand, stuck out as the only one (other than Maedrian) who was dressed informally. Though, he did match Remie with his own fair share of cuts and rips scrapes. They clearly had to fight their way out of Cenilorn.
"You're alive!" Andy gasped before anyone else even had time to process the sudden appearance.
The two Champions gave them tired smiles, their eyes lingering on the trio before taking in the rest of the room. Cassian's gaze fell on Ambrose, the two of them keeping eye contact for a long while.
Ambrose's frown deepened, creases forming across his forehead and tired recognition slowly dawning on his face. He exhaled, whispering, "Cassian?"
Cassian shifted his weight uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck and gulping. "Dad... I, um..." He trailed off, dropping his eyes to the floor.
Ambrose continued to stare despite the broken eye contact. Their exchange was nostalgic but heavy, hanging in the air between them.
Remie put a firm hand on Cassian's shoulder and talked directly to the trio. "We found what we were looking for. It's not good. Really bad, actually."
Elijah Rose reinstated himself into the conversation, demanding, "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"
Remie looked at him as if she hadn't noticed he was there until now, and her expression turned momentarily starstruck. It occurred to Cleo that this Elijah guy might be something like the... president? Mayor? Whatever the case, Remie stared at him and then cleared her throat, continuing her speech to the trio quickly.
"The devices," Remie said, another person who glanced down at the case in Cleo's hand. "They're dangerous. Whoever made them said they can... overpower a mortal mind."
Elijah started to speak, but Ambrose put a hand out to stop him. Ambrose wore a neutral expression at the news, eyeing everyone in turn and looking curious as to how it would all turn out. Elijah stayed quiet.
Cleo didn't know what to say, what to think. But it seemed this was the puzzle piece that would fit in that empty space, connecting the destruction of her locker, Rowana's warnings, Remie's undercover search in Cenilorn tonight...
She stared, searching Remie's face and finding nothing but reluctant defeat.
"What does that even mean?" Andy asked.
"It means they could..." Cassian started to answer, grasping for the right words. "They could... melt your mind. Seeing everything at once that quickly... it's not something most people could handle. And even if they survived, they'd be like..." He swallowed hard and winced as he said, "Puppets."
The solid briefcase grew heavy in Cleo's hand, pulling her down with its weight. She didn't want to believe it. After what she just learned about the other Chosen, could she even believe Remie and Cassian to tell the truth? The pull of the briefcase got stronger, making its presence known and reminding of what she held in her hand.
A key, or a weapon?
A solution or destruction?
Remie stepped forward and tossed the pages onto the wooden table. "Mistress Silver," she said, her greeting reverting back to the formal one. "Everything we hoped to achieve... It can't be done. It'd be a massacre."
Maedrian gave no indication she was hearing any of this. She continued to stare into the floor, her hair like a curtain of night pulled across her stoic face.
"She knows," Elijah breathed, drawing the conclusion no one else wanted to make. "She knows, and yet she would keep it from you. This is no surprise, is it, Silver? You knew, and you still intend to move forward with this plan, one that could destroy us all!" He was yelling by the end, releasing his rage on the woman who seemed utterly unmoved by every event.
Cleo glanced at Andy and Charlie. They looked as shaken up as she felt, as disoriented. It felt like they were watching the events unfold from the outside, only occasionally taking part in the madness. But everything in the last hour told them exactly how little they understood, how far outside it all they really were.
"No," Remie said. "Surely... she wouldn't do that. She couldn't have known."
"I should have guessed, Silver," Elijah continued as if Remie hadn't spoken. "That you would still build your delusional army against Fear. Even if it means sacrificing those who can't handle this world. Even if it means sacrificing countless lives."
Remie looked shattered. Utterly betrayed. She stumbled back next to Cassian, who mirrored her. They both stared at Maedrian, the woman they had followed wholeheartedly, with the utmost contempt and disbelief in their souls.
They didn't have much time to process the shattering news.
In a rush of movement from the hall behind the two Champions, a figure appeared. And with them, two glowing knives. The weapons seemed to come out of thin air, but they came to rest pressed up against the throats of Remie and Cassian.