"Now, the hunt has already begun."
I hear that damn devil whispering into the fog. How could I let that matriarch trick me, bringing me into that Domain!
It's already night, the moon has already risen, and Cole could be anywhere under the attack of the Somata.
Damn it!
The fog thickens around me, attempting to drown me, and I feel dampness on my skin. For a moment, I remember being human, having real sensations, instead of a foreign spiritual imitation of touch.
I shake the thought away. I must focus, I can't let the past interrupt my mission. The Matriarch of Stolen Masks used my past; I can't let it be used against me again.
I thought those times were long forgotten.
The alley is quiet. Only the murmur of rain lightly hitting the cobblestone. I look to the sky, seeing massive clouds coming from the sea, storming heavily near the city's garrison. The rain begins to fall heavier and heavier as each moment passes.
I stand where that Somata pulled me under, near that open wound through the Veil, baited by that child. I can still feel it: the Matriarch's domain as if it's laughing at me.
I should've listened to my anger and cut through it all.
I should've burned it all away.
Instead, I'm here, and night has fallen.
The moon is high, and the hunt has already begun.
The worst part is that Cole is alone during this hunt, with no support besides that small flame.
I lift my hand, and I conjure my flames.
A small tongue of pale-white fire curls into existence above my palm. It should either lean or pull towards the ember I left in Cole. What I left in his chest is a borrowed feather from my fire, I know where all of my flames reside.
"Tell me," I mutter. "Show where the boy is."
The fire flickers, stretching into a stream of flame, climbing upward, tasting the air, growing towards the direction where Cole is.
The fire's growth suddenly stops, neither pulling nor leaning toward any direction, shrinking into my palm.
Again!
The flame grows once more, lifting above my head, but it hesitates when choosing a path. It curls on itself and dims, receding into my palm.
My flame within Cole is gone. That ember has burned out.
Did they get him?
Did he die?
I extinguish the flame with the twitch of my finger, wondering about Cole's fate.
Yet, instead of worry or dread, a sense of calm pours through me as words that I've never spoken leak into my mind.
Stand Cole…
Images, dozens of moments flash in front of my eyes as I understand Cole's situation: he faced the Matriarch, and he survived.
A scoff escapes and slowly turns into mild laughter.
That false mother burned her hand. That Somata must've forgotten Seers aren't easy prey. I should know, I killed thousands.
The truth-telling Seer survived a monster beyond human comprehension. I'm impressed. I would never have believed someone like him could survive such a devil.
But his danger isn't over. Cole is still being hunted by its children. Despite his understanding of Essence, his lack of experience will get him killed. He needs my help. I will not let him die before meeting the Dagda.
My ember within him is gone, which will make tracking harder, however, there are other ways to hunt a Seer.
The ember may be gone, but Essence doesn't vanish, especially a Seer's, not after what he's been through.
I kneel in the alley, placing a hand on wet stone, and the other curls loosely in front of me. I feel the rain, the rain attempting to soak me, but it fails to seep into my spiritual body. The fog keeps thickening despite the heavy storms rolling through Bruis, spreading to every corner of the city.
The Somata are truly desperate.
"Alright, boy, let's see what kind of trail you left me."
I snap my fingers once, pale-white fire blossoming across my knuckles. They form thin lines, coiling and braiding around my fingers, wrist, and forearm, snaking over my entire arm.
Their form shapes tiny serpent heads, jaws parting to take the figure of snakes. The fire coiled around my arm becomes a snake of fire, its eyes empty pits filled with embers.
These are not gentle flames that I left with the boy, they are experienced hunters.
"Seek the boy. Remember that bright Essence."
I close my eyes and bring up a memory: Cole held in the clutches of the Matriarch. His body writhing with starches and cuts, face full of conviction as he burned with the flame, his Essence shining so bright, filled with the hope and desire to live. It's something pure and child-like, as if a mother stood behind him.
The serpent's body knows its target, its ember-eyes already pointing in a direction, slithering off my arm. It has tasted his Essence.
"Find the boy. Find Cole."
The serpent acknowledges quietly, dropping onto the ground. A Seer always leaves a mark when they make a decision, whether it be their fear, their choices, their killings, it all leaves behind a bit of their Essence. No Seer can hide from me once I know their Essence.
Half a dozen pale-white coils, dropping onto the cobblestone. The spread through the alley, sliding across growing puddles, dispersing into the fog in different directions.
I let them drift from my my sight as they begin their own hunt.