The blue mist coiled around Jay's ankles, alive and insistent. He slumped into the chair—when had it gotten so cold?—and wiped sweat from his brow. His fingers brushed empty pockets. No vial. No escape.
Tom's voice echoed, half-mocking, half-worried: "Should've listened, idiot."
"Shut up," Jay muttered, too drained to care if the noblewoman heard.
She arched a brow, exhaling a plume of blue mist that twisted into shapes—spires, markets, cobblestone streets pristine and unbroken. A city Jay didn't recognize. A city happy, clean, reeking of laughter.
"Behold," she said, her voice weaving through the smoke, "the cradle of your nation. Before the rot. Before the Serpent King." Her usual mocking voice radiating of cold hate.
The vision sharpened.
—
Sunlight dappled through cherry blossoms. Children raced through streets where beggars didn't huddle, where soldiers weren't hollow-eyed ghosts. A man stood atop a marble dais, his crown a coiled serpent with emerald eyes. The crowd cheered, their adoration palpable, their thoughts a warm hum:
"Our protector!"
"The lightbearer!"
"The oath-sworn!"
"Savior!"
"Lies," the noblewoman hissed. The mist darkened.
The Serpent King's smile faltered. His hands, once raised in benediction, now clawed at his throat as shadows poured from his mouth. The crowd's cheers curdled to screams.
"He bargained with a power even Seers fear," she said. "Split his soul to protect the realm. But the serpent always demands its due."
The king collapsed, his crown cracking. From the shards emerged a creature—scaled, eyeless, its maw gaping wide enough to swallow the sun.
"The First Devourer," the noblewoman whispered. "Your nation's founding martyr… and its original sin."
—
Jay gagged, the mist now reeking of burnt flesh. "What's this got to do with me?"
"Everything." She leaned forward, her serpent tattoo rippling. "The king's bloodline survived. His heirs inherited his… hunger. They've spent centuries hunting Seers to feed their beast. Your war?" She smirked. "A culling. Tom was a spark. You? A wildfire they couldn't contain."
The scene shifted again—a young Jay and Tom sparring in a sunlit yard, Mrs. Lea scolding them from the porch. Their laughter, bright and unbroken.
"They let you have this," the noblewoman said softly. "Let you believe in family, in safety. Because broken weapons fight hardest."
Jay's fists clenched, blood threatening to drip out. "Stop."
"Why? You already know it's true." She extinguished the hookah, the mist dissolving into bitter smoke. "Join us. The Obsidian Serpents remember the old oaths. We don't serve kings or false deities wearing the skin of men. We slay them."
Jay stood, chair screeching. "I'm not your pawn."
"No." Her smile chilled him. "You're our torch, the spark, the mind slayer. Burn the lies. Burn the Devourers. Burn everything."
Tom's pocket watch lay between them, its ticking a war drum.
Outside, the chapel bells tolled. Somewhere, shadows laughed.
---