The cathedral was empty after the others left.
Mira had gone to check the artisan quarter, to walk the route again, to look for anything they had missed. Alex had gone to speak with his contacts, to see if any of the soldiers could be bribed or distracted. Dylan had gone to the merchant district, to coordinate with the cult's people, to make sure the diversions were ready.
Leximus stayed.
He knelt before the map, the artifacts spread around him—the Pen, the Coin, the Lantern, the Key. The void-altar pulsed in the distance, its rhythm slow and patient. The cold inside him was quiet, waiting.
He had been over the route a dozen times. The merchant district. The artisan quarter. The grand boulevard. The cathedral. Each section had its own risks, its own opportunities, its own places to hide or fight or die.
The merchant district is the most dangerous, he thought. Too many Avatars. Too many guards. Too many eyes.
But it's also the most familiar. The cult has people there. Safe houses. Escape routes.
He traced the line with his finger.
The artisan quarter is wider. More exposed. Fewer places to hide. But also fewer Avatars. The Crown doesn't expect an attack there because it's too open.
He had changed the plan. He had moved the extraction to the artisan quarter. Mira had argued. Alex had frowned. Dylan had said nothing.
But they had agreed.
Now all they had to do was wait.
Footsteps echoed from the stairs.
Leximus looked up. Eugene emerged from the darkness, his grey suit coat buttoned to the top, his hands clasped behind his back. His face was calm, untroubled, but his eyes were sharp.
"I thought you'd left," Leximus said.
"I did. I came back." Eugene stopped at the edge of the circle, looking down at the map. "I received new information. From one of my contacts in the Audit."
Leximus felt the cold inside him stir. "What information?"
"The merchant district route is compromised. The King's guards are planning to increase patrols along the merchant district during the Public Showing. They're expecting trouble."
"From who?"
"From anyone." Eugene stepped closer. "The banquet was a success. The announcement was made. The Crown is on high alert. They know someone might try something."
Leximus studied him. The man's face was calm, but something beneath the surface was wrong. A tension. A pressure. The sense of a lie waiting to be told.
"When did you receive this information?"
"An hour ago. While you were planning."
"An hour ago, you were standing right there." Leximus gestured to the altar. "I didn't see anyone approach you."
Eugene's smile didn't waver. "My contacts have their ways."
"I'm sure they do."
Eugene spread a new map across the floor—the same map Leximus had seen before, but marked with different routes. The lines were red, urgent, cutting through the slums instead of the merchant district.
"The slums," Eugene said. "Whisperwind Slums. The extraction route goes through there instead of the merchant district."
Leximus looked at the map. The route passed close to the warehouses where the capacitors were stored. Close to the places where he had seen the devices being planted.
"The slums are dangerous."
"The slums are familiar. You've lived there for five months. You know the streets, the alleys, the places where no one looks."
"The slums are where the capacitors are."
Eugene's face didn't change. "The capacitors are everywhere. The merchant district. The artisan quarter. The grand boulevard. The King has been planting them for months."
"Why?"
"I don't know. But I know they're there."
Leximus looked at the map. The red lines. The slums. The capacitors.
He's not helping me, he thought. He's making sure I'm in the blast zone.
"You're lying," Leximus said.
Eugene's smile faded. "I'm not."
"You are. There's no new intelligence. There's no increased patrols. You're making this up."
"Why would I do that?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."
Leximus stood. The cold inside him was no longer quiet—it was surging, pulsing, reaching toward Eugene like a hand trying to close around a throat.
"You've been using me," Leximus said. "Since the beginning. The cult. The artifacts. The heist. All of it."
"I've been helping you."
"You've been using me." Leximus stepped closer. "The capacitors in the slums. The route through the warehouses. You're not helping me extract my sister. You're making sure I'm caught in the blast."
Eugene didn't step back. His face was calm, but his eyes were different. Colder. Harder.
"The King's plan requires a catalyst," Eugene said. "Your sister. But catalysts can be contaminated. If the Unwritten dies trying to save her, the narrative shifts. She becomes more than a victim—she becomes a symbol. The Void's symbol."
"What's the point of using her? She does not benefit you in the slightest!"
"We're all being used, child." Eugene's voice was soft. "The question is whether you'll be used as a tool or become the user."
Leximus stared at him.
"I don't trust you," he said.
"Good. Trust is for fools." Eugene stepped back. "The route is changed. The extraction is in three days. You can follow the plan, or you can make your own way. The choice is yours."
He turned and walked toward the stairs.
Leximus stood alone before the map, the red lines burning in his memory.
The route is changed.
The extraction is in three days.
The choice is yours.
He looked at the artifacts on the floor. The Pen. The Coin. The Lantern. The Key.
I'm not going to die in the slums, he thought. I'm not going to let her die.
I am the possibility that remains.
He knelt and began to plan.