Day in the story: 13th December (Saturday)

We were bored out of our minds.

The early morning corpo-zombie rush had eased only a little in the last two hours, despite it being Saturday. We figured they were walking just for the sake of walking. Some of them even went into buildings, only to walk back out moments later.

I spent most of that time thinking about Jason.

He had been taken, and they were going to do horrible things to him. I knew that. But rescuing him? That was probably beyond us now. Just moving through this part of the city was hard enough. And then there was her, that bitch who slipped past my attack like it was child's play. I'd tried my best. I failed.

And I'd have to live with that.

But not now. Not yet.

So I boxed those feelings up, tight, silent, heavy and shoved them somewhere deep until a better time came to face them.

I noticed Nick going back and forth, checking out different pieces of clothing. Mostly women's.

"Did you decide to change sex, Nick?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, not this time," he said without missing a beat. "Though I do envy you women. So many options to wear."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Actually... shopping for you." He said it bluntly, like it was obvious.

"Me?" That caught me off guard. "Not Soph?"

"Sophie? Are you crazy? I'd never dare to choose something for her. I'd fail every single time."

"So I'm just that much simpler?"

He glanced over with a smirk. "I'm not picking something for you to wear, at least not in the form it's in now."

"What do you mean?"

"Anything in Ideworld can hold Authority. Some of it lingers in the material. And since you can turn costumes into actual armor... I thought maybe I'd find something with potential."

That was surprisingly thoughtful of him.

"I didn't consider that approach," I said, walking toward a row of dresses. I brushed my fingers across the fabrics, slow, deliberate.

"I'd be able to feel it, right? The Authority?"

"Not like a Seer would," Nick replied. "But yeah, you'd know if it had some spark to it. Then Zoe could take a proper look, like reading soulmarks. Might just be tougher, might catch fire when you shout something cool. Who knows."

I considered that. "Maybe that's how Noxy got so powerful," I murmured. "I did take that base pistol from Ideworld, after all."

Nick grinned. "Maybe you hit the jackpot."

"That's why your parents gather ingredients from this side, right?"

"Yes," Nick nodded. "They can have effects that normal food wouldn't. Like the Old Oak's bark we gathered."

"What does it do?"

"If you make a container out of it, any liquid you store inside slowly replenishes over time."

"You're kidding me. That's a money-printing tree." I blinked. "Why aren't they loaded?"

"It's a slow process, Alexa. We mostly use it to store rare or hard-to-get ingredients. Not for profit."

I made a mental note to craft something out of that bark one day. A canteen maybe. Or a teacup. Hell, a whole flask belt.

"Well, thanks for enlightening me on the magical wonders of pantry logistics," I said, shifting topics. "So... did you find anything yet?"

He turned his head a few times, distracted.

"Nick, there was something else I wanted to ask."

He looked at me, attentive.

"My identity soulmark changed when the voidling touched me. Back in Suburbia. I only noticed today."

His brow lifted, but he didn't look surprised. That meant he knew it could happen.

"You knew that was possible?"

"That voidlings could do that? No. That marks can change? Yes. Rare, but not unheard of. You can't replace them, but they can evolve."

He thought for a moment, then added, "You know exactly how it changed, right? Because of your anima?"

"Yeah. I call her Anansi. She told me it's now a trueform mark. Same function as before, but if I understand the truth of whatever I'm trying to change it resists less. Like, a lot less."

"That's... huge," Nick said, eyes narrowing with thought. "If you can read things clearly enough, it's a straight power-up."

"I managed with the Terracotta warrior," I shrugged. "But he wasn't exactly a Rubik's Cube."

"Well," he smiled, "your recklessness finally paid off. Just don't get cocky about it."

"You'd hate to lose me. You suck without me."

"You're an acquired taste, but yeah. I'd hate to lose you." He gave me that steady look. "I told you that I'll be there. That's what friends are for."

Maybe he was my version of a talking magical animal after all. I'd have to tell Soph, just so she doesn't get jealous.

"Do marks change only because of external stuff, like what happened with me? Or can they evolve on their own?" I asked, thinking of Shiroi. His deconstruction had let him reconstruct… after he was unraveled.

"They change when you upgrade them, when your soul core advances. But yeah, sometimes other stuff causes it too. I'm no expert. I don't think anyone really is," Nick said. "But it happens more often to sourcerers than someone like me."

"Because we are the source of our Domain's awakening, we influence it more directly?"

"Could be. Your guess is as good as mine, but it's still a guess."

I drifted through the rows of clothes again, fingertips brushing fabrics, trying to feel if any of them pulsed with anything strange. So far? Nothing. Tedious and disappointing.

"Do you know how seers sense if something's imbued with Authority?" I asked suddenly. "Like, do they see it?"

"No idea," he replied, checking a jacket sleeve. "I'd love to know."

"What is Authority, anyway?" I asked aloud, even though I already knew the answer wouldn't be easy.

Nick exhaled through his nose. "Alexa, that's a deeply philosophical question. I'd say… it's will, carried through shadowlight."

That was his answer. I felt like there was more.

In my case, sure - Authority did carry my will. But it also obeyed the rules of my Domain, as if those rules were etched into the bones of the world itself. Earth, when seen through that lens, was a giant Domain. Reality its sourcerer. Laws of physics weren't just laws, they were enforced by some deep Authority, punishing anyone who dared to disobey.

Maybe that was the truth. Or closer to it, anyway.

I pulled out one of my eye cards, poured intent into it.

Become the eyes that see Authority.

I turned it over, moved it around.

Nothing.

Disappointed, I stripped the shadowlight from the card, removing the crafted senses. Tried again. Become the eyes that see ultraviolet.

Still normal vision. Not even a single shift in hue.

"What are you doing?" Nick asked, watching me now.

"I thought maybe I could see Authority hidden in objects," I admitted. "Or like, ultraviolet light or something. But the eyes see normally."

He was quiet for a second, then said, "Don't your art pieces have to represent the thing to become the thing?"

"What do you mean? Eyes are eyes…"

But I froze. No. He was right. I paint blue fire because it burns hotter. My fire acts hotter. The representation matters.

"Those are human eyes," Nick added gently. "They see like human eyes. Nothing special."

"Yeah," I said, already deep in thought. "If I want to see ultraviolet, I'd need to paint the eyes of a creature that can see it… Or eyes that can see Authority."

"Can't you just imagine a creature like that? Paint their eyes?" he offered. "It's not like your suit exists in the real world, and it still works. You imagined it. It represents something and that's enough."

"Maybe," I said slowly. "But imagining the suit was different. It was built on real-world principles. Engineering. Symbolism. Making up a creature just to cheat my Domain into giving me powers? That feels… wrong. Like lying to it."

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"Fair," Nick nodded. "Cheating your own Domain probably doesn't go over well. But hey, cheer up. Maybe we will meet a creature like that one day. You'll get your reference."

"Yeah, and I bet the creature's just a giant teddy bear that wants nothing but hugs," I said. Nick just gave me a lazy wave as he wandered deeper into the store.

"Guys, we might have a problem," Malik said out of nowhere, stepping away from the front window. I turned to look, and Nick drifted back over.

Outside, right up against the glass, a corpo-zombie stood drooling, the vacant face of a middle-aged man who'd clearly checked out of life long before his final paycheck. He looked like the kind of guy who died halfway up the corporate ladder and just kept showing up out of habit.

He pounded on the glass with dull rhythm. Then another one shuffled into view, same dead-eyed look, same business-casual misery. It stared for a second then joined the first one.

"I'm reinforcing the window," I said, grabbing the silver and grey spray paints and working fast. "Did you do anything to make them notice us?" I asked Malik without looking up.

"No. Just sat here," he said, dead serious and yeah, I believed him. We'd walked near those things before and they'd barely registered us. Maybe this two were wired different.

I was halfway through the painting when a sharp crack split the air.

"Become steel," I commanded, channeling power into the painted section, but it was already too late. The glass gave way with a harsh shatter, and the two zombies collapsed through it in a heap.

I touched both, and sent them straight to Suburbia with a flicker of shadowlight. Then I leapt back beside the guys as we retreated, all eyes on the opening, bracing for the flood that might follow.

"None of the others seem to care," Malik whispered, but I felt a weight settle in my chest. This calm wouldn't last. Not a chance.

"I say we abandon ship," Nick offered, glancing around.

"Yeah, even if most of them aren't aggressive and that's a big if - if they all come in here at once, we'll get buried," I replied. And right then, another one wandered in through the shattered window.

"Alexa, let's head upstairs," Nick said, already thinking ahead. "Can you paint a hole in the ceiling big enough for us to push through?"

"Yeah, just hold steady," I told him.

He crouched and created a pair of platforms on his shoulders, jagged and crystalline like sun-scorched salt. I jumped up onto them. He wobbled slightly from the impact, but steadied himself quick. I got to work, spraying a wide enough hole in the ceiling for him to fit through.

Meanwhile, Malik approached the new zombie. It didn't seem hostile, just sort of meandering, like it had no clue where it was. But then another figure stepped through the window behind it. This one moved with purpose. A corpo-overachiever. The worst kind.

"Stop slacking!" it barked, stomping in and smacking the first zombie upside the head. Then it turned its dead-eyed glare on Malik.

"You too!" it yelled, throwing a sudden hook.

Malik caught the swing mid-air and responded with a punch that echoed soon after. Like a thunder. The thing's skull detonated in a burst of gore, headless corpse collapsing like a broken marionette.

Apparently, corpo-zombies don't take kindly to one of their own getting their head blown off. Go figure. Because the moment Malik's punch landed and that thing's skull popped like a melon, they came swarming in. This chaotic wave of flailing limbs and too many grim, lifeless faces. A full-blown surge of business casual nightmares, just as I was finishing the last lines of my painting.

Luckily, Malik wasn't just fast, this time he was also clever. He stacked the space near the window with echoes of himself, shadows of his past movements layered in gold and violet shadowlight. It looked like a spectral wall made from dozens of him, frozen in different poses. Then, without waiting, he bolted toward Nick, used him like a springboard, and vaulted straight through the hole I'd just painted in the ceiling.

I scrambled up after him, and the two of us waited at the edge for Nick to make his move. From our side, the floor was still intact. No visible hole. We waited with anticipation, breaths held. But then, a big hand gripped the ledge right where the opening should've been. We grabbed him and pulled with everything we had.

Watching him phase through solid matter like it wasn't even there? That was something else. I'd painted dozens of holes so far, but I'd never seen it from the other side like this.

Once the three of us were up in the empty room I reached into the painted blackness and withdrew my authority.

Malik collapsed to the floor, breathing hard. That echo stunt clearly drained him.

I turned to Nick. "What the hell took you so long?"

"I hit 'em with fishbone quills first," he said. "Then I had to switch my legs to chicken ones to jump high enough. You try pulling yourself up through a metaphor with one hand when you're built like me."

Fair point.

From downstairs, the sound of chaos swelled. The kind of pounding that didn't come from just fists, it sounded like the building itself was groaning under pressure of piling bodies. Then the floor beneath us gave a sudden jolt. Something big had slammed into it from below, and now a lump stuck out, warping the flat boards with a small bulge.

"We can't stay up here," I said, eyes still on the warped spot.

"They're gonna come through the ceiling," Malik added, still unsteady.

I moved to the nearest window. Below, the mob kept pouring in. An ocean of the unliving corpo-zombies, climbing over one another, crawling across piles of collapsed bodies just to squeeze inside.

It was madness.

And Peter? He was still out there somewhere, deep in his trial.

"Guys," I said, already knowing this conversation would go nowhere, "I'm more mobile than both of you. I'll send you both to your home Nick. I'll come back once things settle down and I have an anchor ready."

But, of course, they didn't budge.

"I ain't leaving," Malik said, still catching his breath but sitting up straighter, eyes steady.

"You know I won't leave you either," Nick added.

"You're not helping me by sticking around," I told them, "You're making this harder, not easier."

Malik suddenly perked up, like someone flipped a switch.

"I actually have an idea!" he announced, grinning wide.

"What is it?"

"You know how my echoes hit harder than my actual punches? I'll use one to catapult us to the bridge. Like, full-on launch us."

I blinked. "...That's actually a really good idea."

"Let's do this," Nick said without missing a beat. He walked over to the window and turned his right hand into a fist wrapped in sharp, salty armor, then smashed the glass. With his leg coated in the same crystalline texture, he kicked out the bricks around it until we had a gap wide enough to jump through. The sounds rising from below were awful. Wailing, shouts and begging. Some just screamed. It was like I imagined hell sounded like, if it was real. Was it real? I hoped it wasn't.

Malik wasted no time. He ran over to the broken window and took position. Feet planted wide like he was mounting an invisible horse, hands clasped in front of him like a step for someone to leap off of. He held the pose for a beat, then mimicked the launching motion, the whole thing locked in his soul's memory.

"Can you reuse that move?" Nick asked

"Yeah. I've got it stored, you go first, bro."

Nick nodded, stepped into the exact spot Malik had just stood in, and gave a small hop. In that instant, Malik recreated the motion with a blazing echo of purple and gold shadowlight exploding into shape. It hurled Nick through the air like he'd been launched by a slingshot the size of a truck. As he neared the bridge across the double street, gravity twisted, realigned itself, and Nick landed perfectly on his feet.

Malik turned to me and nodded. My turn.

I moved into position and jumped as well. The echo triggered instantly, slamming into me like a freight train made of kinetic will. I tore through the air, the wind biting at my face, the horde blurring beneath me. Malik had really packed some juice into that echo, no hesitation, just raw force.

As I hit the edge of the turn-point over the building-bridge, gravity warped. I tucked and rolled, the momentum carrying me forward until I came to a stop, kneeling with one hand on the glassy surface.

That was one hell of a ride.

Then both me and Nick watched Malik launch himself toward us.

I noticed something was wrong immediately. His arc was much lower than ours, his authority likely drained from soul exhaustion. I glanced at Nick, silent understanding passed between us and without hesitation, I used the power I had granted to my rabbit feet to launch myself back toward Malik.

I aimed to catch him mid-air but misjudged the jump and missed. He fell into the horde below, crashing into the corpo-zombies with enough force to flatten a few beneath him.

I, on the other hand, landed straight-legged onto one of the larger ones. His spine crumpled beneath the impact like paper, and I used his collapsing body to launch myself again. While in the air, I threw a handful of my sound cards as far as I could, aiming to cause as much noise as possible.

When the siren blared, most of the zombies turned their heads toward the sound and started moving in its direction. That gave me just enough space to breathe, to move, and to search for Malik.

"Forward!" Nick's voice came from above, cutting through the chaos. I didn't think, I just ran.

I scooped up a few of my cards and turned them into makeshift claws, one in each hand. The first shadow that came at me, I slashed across the neck. Blood erupted in a high arc, spraying the one beside it and blinding him. I shoved the dying one out of the way and kicked low, snapping the shin of the next attacker. Then I flung all six cards to the sides with full strength, spearing a few more in their path.

I reached out to Ella. Become the steel baton, I whispered through our bond. She shifted in my grip, just in time for me to slam her into the skull of another incoming creature.

"Just a few more feet! They grabbed him! He isn't moving!" Nick shouted. His voice carried through the air, urgent, desperate.

Then another sound tore through the noise. Hard, slicing, sharp like steel fishbone. Nick's quills. They shrieked through the air, and a chorus of shadow-wails followed.

I pushed forward, smashing into those in my path. Their bodies gave way easily, but there were so many of them. I hated how limited my vision was, how grounded I felt with only my own eyes. I had grown too used to fighting through multiple points of view. This was suffocating.

Something struck me in the knee from the side. One of the faster ones. Some rat-race psycho. I cracked him across the face, hard enough that he'd have lost teeth to count if he woke up. He fell, reaching for my leg, but I danced back with a quick sidestep.

A glint caught my attention, a traffic post, just outside my field of vision. I reinfused Ella into shield form and shoved back the wall of arms and fingers reaching for me. Then I threw one of my eye-cards at the post. It stuck, and my field of vision opened again.

Through this new angle, I saw Malik being dragged by the crowd like some kind of rockstar on a stage dive. But they weren't unified. Some pulled him one way, others pulled another. Only the raw durability his authority gave him was keeping him intact.

From that vantage point, I spotted more lamp posts and even a solid piece of wall. I hurled a few more eye-cards and felt my awareness stretch again.

Nick was stationed by the bridge building's entrance, clearing a path for me. His arm, now looking more like a crystalline hammer than flesh, smashed into the closest threats. When someone got too close, it shifted instantly as long talons replaced fingers, and he slashed in fluid, vicious arcs. Then he fired more quills to impale those farther out.

I, meanwhile, smashed another zombie's face in. Then vaulted toward one of the lamp posts. I landed clean and locked my eyes on the chaotic mass trying to haul Malik in every direction.

His eyes were closed, still unconscious from burning out his powers. I gripped Ella tight, then hurled myself into the crowd, battering through the first few shadows that held him.

They dropped under the impact. I vaulted over their bodies, Ella shifting back into baton form mid-air. I cracked it down on the spine of another, and he collapsed with Malik still tangled in his grip.

I slid beneath just in time to catch Malik as he dropped.

Without hesitation, I wished him away, aiming to send him into Lebens' training hall. It was the safest place I could think of.

But something pushed back, a faint resistance. I could've overcome it easily, but I pulled back instead.

"I… will… st-stay," he mumbled, groggy as he surfaced from sleep.

"You sure!?" I shouted, as he forced himself upright beside me and helped shove another shadow away.

"Yes," he forced himself to say.

We moved as a unit then. Malik was just kicking and punching, his strikes fueled by the lingering fumes of authority still left in him. He had been nearly drained twice in such a short span, but he kept pushing forward. His stubborn determination was starting to grow on me, but there was no time to dwell on it. We had to keep tearing through the horde that swarmed around us, no matter how many bodies we left behind.

So much death.

Even if these weren't real people, they died like they were. Their bodies bled, convulsed, twitched. Their movements had weight, as if real blood pumped through real hearts, as if there were functioning brains behind those hollow eyes. I'd never flinched from killing when it was necessary, but this… this was starting to grind me down. It felt endless.

"You ok, Lex?" Malik managed between gasping breaths, just after he kicked two attackers off their feet.

"Yes," I answered. A lie, but easier than the truth. I kept moving, slashing another face, then another.

We finally reached a break in the wave, where a wall of bodies had piled up, impaled on a thicket of Nick's fishbone quills sticking from the ground. Malik leapt first, clearing the tangle with surprising grace given how battered he was. I followed right behind, landing beside him.

We reached Nickolas at last.

Without speaking, the three of us veered off to the side of the building where gravity bent, and we ran upward along the vertical surface. The shift was disorienting at first, but we had no other choice. The horde tried to follow, but most gave up after a few dozen feet. Some stragglers still climbed after us, but we had distance now.

Eventually, we collapsed near the corpses of the Unreflected that had tried to kill me just a few hours ago. We lay there on the side of the building, catching our breath in the shadow of the storm we'd just outrun, waiting for Peter to make his appearance.

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