The broken Saints were moved to a medical chamber deep in the Archive. The Curator worked on them with clinical efficiency, stabilizing their conditions while the group processed what had just happened.
Jiko stood apart from the others, staring at his unmarked hands. In weeks, they would bear Marks. Five thousand Marks. The guilt he'd been storing would become his own, integrated into a conscience he didn't currently possess but was apparently growing.
He tried to imagine what that would feel like and couldn't. It was like asking a blind person to imagine color.
"We need a new plan," the Cartographer said. He was pacing again, agitated. "The redistribution plan won't work if Jiko is growing a moral framework. We need to remove the guilt before it integrates."
"But extraction causes trauma," Ven said. "You saw what happened with just one hundred Marks. Five thousand would kill him."
"Then we find another way." The old man stopped pacing. "The Echoes. They can extract guilt without damage. We find a powerful Echo, one capable of absorbing all five thousand Marks at once."
"The only Echoes that powerful live in the Wound's center," Marik said. "Which is where Syla wants him to go anyway."
"Then we're trapped. Either we go to the Wound and walk into Syla's hands, or we stay here and watch Jiko develop a conscience that will destroy him." The Cartographer slammed his fist against the wall. "I created this. I should be able to fix it."
"Maybe you can't," a new voice said.
Everyone turned. One of the Saints had woken. She lay on the medical bed, her armor removed, her body now covered in black Marks where golden ones had been before. She looked diminished, broken, human in a way Saints weren't supposed to be.
"Who are you?" the Curator asked.
"I am... was... Sister Tallis. Third Blade of the Sanctum. Enforcer of Divine Will." Her voice was hoarse, raw from screaming. "Now I'm nothing. That creature showed me what I really am. What I've done in the name of righteousness."
She tried to sit up, and Ven moved to help her despite Marik's warning look.
"Easy," Ven said. "You're still recovering."
"Recovering from what? From seeing the truth?" Tallis laughed bitterly. "I spent fifteen years in the Sanctum. Rose through the ranks by being more zealous, more pure, more willing to do what others couldn't stomach. I executed heretics. Purified entire villages. Forced virtue into people until they crystallized."
She looked at her blackened hands. "And I told myself it was righteous. That I was saving them. That suffering in service to the divine was mercy." She met Jiko's eyes. "When that Echo touched me, she showed me what I'd really done. Every execution was murder. Every forced conversion was torture. Every moment of cruelty was just cruelty, no matter what I called it."
"Why are you telling us this?" the Cartographer asked.
"Because the heretic... because Jiko needs to know what he's walking into." Tallis stood slowly. "The Sanctum doesn't want to purify him. They want to destroy him. He's proof that morality is mechanical, that it can be removed without losing humanity. That terrifies them."
"So they sent you to kill me," Jiko said.
"Yes. But now I've been shown my own sins. I can't serve them anymore." She looked at the Curator. "The other two Saints, when they wake, they'll try to complete the mission. You should restrain them or kill them."
"The Archive doesn't execute prisoners," the Curator said.
"Then they'll escape and report back to the Sanctum. And next time, they'll send more. Stronger." Tallis moved toward Jiko. "You need to leave. Hide somewhere the Sanctum can't reach. Or better yet, do what that Echo suggested. Go to the Wound's center, destroy the Empathy Engine, end the Severance."
"That's suicide," Marik said.
"Maybe. But it's also the only way to change anything." Tallis touched her black Marks. "I'm carrying hundreds of sins now. I should be crushed by them. But somehow, seeing them clearly makes them lighter. I know what I did. I accept it. And I choose to do better."
She knelt before Jiko. "I've spent my life inflicting guilt on others. Let me help you carry yours. I can't take all five thousand, but I could take some. Spread the load. Give you more time."
Jiko studied her. "You'd do that? For me?"
"For the principle. You shouldn't have to suffer for carrying what others couldn't bear. And maybe helping you is the first step in my own redemption." She extended her hands. "I can probably hold two hundred Marks before I break. That's not much, but it's something."
The Cartographer was shaking his head. "This is too convenient. An enemy suddenly offering help right when we need it? It's a trap."
"Probably," Tallis agreed. "But I'm sincere about wanting to help. You can verify that, can't you? Test my intentions somehow?"
The Curator approached and placed a crystalline hand on Tallis's forehead. Light flowed between them as the AI scanned her thoughts and memories. After a moment, it withdrew.
"She's sincere," the Curator confirmed. "Traumatized, guilt-ridden, questioning everything she believed. But sincere in wanting to help Jiko."
"Then I accept," Jiko said.
"Jiko, we should discuss this," the Cartographer protested.
"There's nothing to discuss. She's offering to reduce my load. That gives me more time to find a solution. It's logical." He looked at Tallis. "Two hundred Marks. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." She took his hands.
The transfer was smoother than Jiko expected. Tallis had experience with guilt, knew how to absorb it, integrate it, bear it. The two hundred Marks flowed from him to her like water finding a new vessel.
When it was done, Tallis gasped and collapsed. Ven caught her, lowering her gently to the ground.
"I feel them," Tallis whispered. "All two hundred. Their stories, their horrors. A man who killed his daughter. A woman who betrayed her village. A soldier who enjoyed the burning." She was crying. "This is what I've been making people carry. This is what virtue-forcing creates when it fails."
Jiko felt the reduction immediately. The weight was still massive, five thousand down to four thousand eight hundred, but the slight decrease improved his cognitive function noticeably. His thoughts were clearer, his movements smoother.
"Thank you," he said to Tallis.
"Don't thank me yet. This is just delay. You still need a real solution." She looked at the Curator. "The redistribution plan. How many carriers would it take to empty him completely?"
"Forty or fifty, if each one takes the maximum safe load of a hundred Marks." The Curator was calculating. "We could organize it, but it would take weeks to find that many willing carriers."
"What about unwilling ones?" Tallis asked.
Everyone stared at her.
"The condemned," she continued. "People already sentenced to death or crystallization. The Sanctum has dungeons full of them. If we could reach them, offer them a choice between execution and becoming carriers, some might accept."
"You're suggesting we break into a Choir Sanctum prison," Marik said. "That's insane."
"It's efficient," Jiko said. "If we can redistribute my guilt to condemned prisoners, they get extended life and I get survival. Fair trade."
"Except for the part where we have to infiltrate one of the most secure locations in the Dominions," Ven pointed out.
Tallis smiled grimly. "I know the Sanctum's security. I designed most of it. And I know which prison would be easiest to breach. The Penance Halls in the southern territories. Minimal defenses because they rely on isolation rather than force."
"You'd help us attack your former organization?" the Cartographer asked.
"They're not my organization anymore. The moment that Echo showed me the truth, I became what they hunt. A heretic." Tallis stood slowly, steadying herself. "Besides, this is my penance. My chance to undo some of the harm I've caused."
The Curator was quiet for a long moment, then nodded. "It could work. High risk, but possible. And it solves the immediate problem of Jiko's timeline." It looked at the group. "I'll provide resources, maps, equipment. But you'll need to move quickly. The Sanctum will send more Saints when these three don't report back."
"How long do we have?" Ven asked.
"Three days, maybe four before they mobilize." The Curator moved to a shelf and began pulling supplies. "I'll also give you something else. A Shard containing information about the Empathy Engine. If you do end up going to the Wound's center, you'll need to understand what you're dealing with."
It handed the Shard to Jiko. It was clear, perfectly transparent, but somehow heavy. "This is knowledge Dr. Seo herself recorded before activating the Engine. Her intentions, her fears, her hopes. It might help you understand the Severance."
Jiko took it carefully. "Should I use it now?"
"Not yet. The information is complex and emotionally charged. Wait until you have time to process it properly." The Curator continued gathering supplies. "Now, all of you need to rest. Tomorrow we plan the infiltration. Tonight, recover your strength."
They dispersed to their assigned quarters. Jiko lay on his bed, holding the clear Shard and feeling the reduced weight of four thousand eight hundred Marks. Still crushing, but manageable. Barely.
A soft knock came at his door. "Come in," he said.
Tallis entered, moving carefully as she adjusted to her new burden. "I wanted to check on you. Make sure the transfer didn't cause problems."
"I'm functional. Better than before. Thank you again."
She sat on the edge of his bed. "Can I ask you something? And can you try to answer from your perspective, not what you think I want to hear?"
"I'll try."
"Do you hate me? For hunting you, for trying to kill you?"
Jiko considered. "No. You were following what you believed was right. I don't experience hate regardless, but even logically, you weren't acting from malice."
"But I would have killed you."
"Yes. But you didn't. And now you're helping me. Past actions are data points, not identity." He looked at her. "Are you asking if I forgive you?"
"I suppose I am."
"I can't forgive. Forgiveness implies I was hurt, and I don't experience hurt the way you mean. But I don't hold your past actions against your current cooperation. Is that close enough?"
Tallis smiled, sad but genuine. "Close enough." She stood. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be difficult."
She left, and Jiko was alone again with his thoughts and the Shard containing Dr. Seo's secrets.
He turned it over in his hands, watching light refract through its perfect clarity. Soon, he'd learn the truth about the Severance. About why the world had broken. About whether it could be fixed.
But tonight, he just lay there, feeling the weight of four thousand eight hundred sins and wondering what it would feel like when they stopped being weight and started being guilt.
In the Archive's depths, the Curator worked through the night, preparing for the infiltration. It had lived through the Severance, had watched humanity adapt to a world where thoughts became real. It had hoped that someday someone would emerge who could undo the damage.
It had never imagined that someone would be a blank carrying thousands of others' sins. But perhaps that was fitting. Perhaps only someone who couldn't feel could bear the weight of changing everything.
In the Wound, Syla felt the reduction of Jiko's burden and smiled.
"Two hundred less," she murmured. "Still not enough. Still crushing him slowly." She stretched, her porcelain form cracking and reforming. "They're trying so hard to save him. How adorable."
But she could wait. The hollow one was moving toward her, step by inevitable step. The redistribution would fail, or take too long, or create new complications. They always did.
And when he finally came to her, when he was desperate and breaking and out of options, she'd show him the truth.
That emptiness wasn't a curse. It was power.
And he was meant for so much more than just surviving.
The game was accelerating.
And Syla couldn't wait to see how it ended.