Seth was breathing like a dog locked in a sauna. Shaky hands fumbled with the communicator on his belt—high-tech, sure, but he still had to press the damn button for it to be useful. And his thumb just wouldn't cooperate. It hovered, twitching, trembling—
A hand closed around his wrist.
Not rough. Gentle, even. But no matter how hard Seth pulled, he couldn't move. His entire arm might as well have been dipped in cement.
He looked up.
The blonde guy was smiling. Calm. Pleased, even. Not the smug kind—worse. The entertained kind, like watching a beetle try to flip itself over. No hostility. Just… curious amusement.
"S-Sir, p-please," Seth stammered, each syllable tripping over the next. "L-let me call m-my superiors. Th-this isn't—th-this is way above m-me."
His voice cracked. He wasn't sure if it was fear or just dehydration.
Behind the blonde man stood two others. One was a girl—no, a young woman, maybe eighteen at most, shoulder-length purple hair and a black battle robe that looked like it came from a cursed boutique. She was spinning slowly in place, bored out of her mind.
The other one was covered head to toe in gold-plated armor, not a single inch of skin showing. Like someone had dipped a medieval warlord in sunlight and given him zero personality.
The blonde man's smile widened, just slightly.
"I am Dravenor," he said, voice smooth like a lullaby sung by a snake. "That," he gestured to Goldilocks in the armor, "is Thalric. And she," he gave a nod to the purple-haired girl still twirling, "is Oryssia."
Seth immediately dropped his eyes. Looking at Dravenor felt like staring into a mirror that reflected your worst thoughts back at you. Every second in his gaze made his spine itch.
"I-I—I'm not, uh, not the right person f-for this kinda thing," he stammered. "P-please let me c-call someone who's actually, y'know, qualified—"
Behind Dravenor, the armor finally spoke.
"This human is truly pathetic," Thalric said, like the words offended his mouth just by existing.
Dravenor didn't even blink. "We were sent by the ruler, Vornak," he said, still holding Seth's wrist with the casual restraint of a man picking lint off his coat. "We're here to prepare your people for his arrival."
Seth's brain tried to process the words, but it was like throwing newspapers into a woodchipper. "V-Vornak…?" he whispered.
"You're shaking," Dravenor noted, almost fondly. "Do try to stay conscious."
A groan came from the side. Oryssia had stopped spinning and now flopped down onto the ground like a bored child. "Uuugh. We're never gonna get anywhere like this."
Dravenor turned his head slightly toward her, still not releasing Seth. "You may be right."
Then, finally, he let go.
"Call whoever's in charge. We'll speak with them instead."
Seth practically slammed the button on the communicator. Static buzzed, then a voice crackled in:
"What's going on down there? The Raven Guild not out the gate yet?"
Seth didn't even bother responding to that.
"G-get the Director!" he shouted, voice breaking. "R-right now!"
A pause. Then a sigh.
"Director's busy, as always. You know that. We'll send someone down in his place."
The line cut.
Silence.
Oryssia broke it with a cheerful chirp. "Should we kill this one while we wait?"
Seth nearly puked.
"No," Dravenor said, casually. "We're trying not to start with genocide, remember?"
Oryssia puffed her cheeks and fell backward onto the pavement, arms spread wide like she was making an angel in the dust. "Boooring."
Seth didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't breathe. Just stared at the dirt.
Five minutes crawled by.
Oryssia was on the ground, chin in her hand, tapping her fingers against her cheek like a metronome of madness. Thalric hadn't moved a muscle—statue mode, activated. Dravenor had stolen the communicator at some point and now twirled it between his fingers, inspecting it like it was a curio from a forgotten museum.
Seth hadn't blinked in a while.
"This is taking forever," Oryssia whined, rolling onto her back. "Just do that thing."
Dravenor raised a brow. "Thing?"
"The mind thing," she said, like it was obvious. "Y'know. That thing."
"Ah," he said, lips curving upward. "You want me to probe his memory."
She nodded eagerly. "Mhm."
"I had hoped it wouldn't come to that…" Dravenor stepped forward.
Seth flinched so hard he nearly fell over.
But before the blonde man could reach him, engines roared in the distance. One… two… no—many. Big ones. Not civilian.
Headlights tore across the road's horizon. Black armored transports, their sides stamped with the seal of the Awakener Association.
Dravenor stopped.
Smiled.
"Well," he said, "looks like we won't need to dig through your head after all."