Chapter 67

Time rewound to half an hour before Baron was seized by Solon.

Baron realized he had been caught in a looping illusion—walking in circles yet going nowhere.

When he passed the same tree for the second time, the truth hit him.

Baron then discovered it wasn't an illusion after all; he was leaping randomly through the Kerry Mountains.

That became clear the moment he found himself standing on the peak he had gazed at only minutes earlier.

Half an hour—and several jumps—later, he returned to where he had started and was immediately encircled by Solon's riders. In a lightning flash of thought, Baron finally understood.

Either the "Earth-OL" game had glitched, or the price for using the Cocoon of Delusion had come due.

Based on his calculations, the cost was random spatial displacement within a radius of ten kilometers.

The first symptom had been the gradual loss of his spatial awareness; only now did he notice the jumps.

"Delayed price? Fine. But did it have to kick in right now—just in time to deliver me gift-wrapped?"

Across the violet cage, Baron met Solon's gaze and smiled bitterly to himself.

There's an old saying: You walked right into it.

Solon had no idea. He believed he'd pursued Baron across mountains and rivers and finally cornered him.

"I never thought a bloodless scion like you would dare return to the Plains," Solon snarled, reining in his silver lion. "Since you're back, you're not leaving again."

He flicked a spell card against his wand, and a second violet cage dropped from the sky, reinforcing the first.

A cage was hardly the right word; the structure was pure energy. When Baron touched the bars with the hem of his coat, the cashmere simply vanished.

Solon's laugh was cold. "These cages are woven from lightning. They can hold even a Bronze-rank Templar. You're only a Black-Iron contract knight. You won't break free."

Beyond the bars, lions and grim-faced riders hemmed him in. Baron admitted the day had turned sour.

The Mimic's Chain was still inert after its last use, and the Forbidden Object had left him momentarily drained.

Dragonfire couldn't pierce these lightning walls, and blood arts were meant for killing, not escaping.

Alchemical rounds? His revolver held twelve. Solon alone commanded more than twenty men.

Unlike the reckless Bill, Solon always stayed behind a living wall of guards; from this angle, Baron couldn't land a single shot.

Judging by his cousin's hatred, the enforcers who loved pinning crimes on Baron were probably on their way.

For once, even Baron didn't know what to do.

Give up? Not in his nature.

He needed an opening.

Since the jumps had started, he had counted the intervals—roughly five minutes each.

Two minutes had already passed since capture; if he could stall for the remaining three...

A heavy thud—an animal growl—and Baron crashed to his knees, violet arcs racing over his body.

"Why... why did you, a despicable bloodless scion, dare come back? How can you appear before me—me, whose eye you gouged—without a shred of remorse?"

Solon slammed his wand down, and the cage answered with lightning that lashed Baron's skin. Fury drowned reason; Solon tore out the glass orb that served as his left eye.

It had been made by Zophy, then head alchemist of House Constantine, for one ounce of gold demanded by Solon's father, Eugene Constantine.

The dwarf had simply plucked a marble from the box he had once given Baron and his sister, and handed it over.

Solon, hiding in a corner with his remaining eye, witnessed everything. He never spoke of it—whether from shame, pride, hatred, or loathing for his own helplessness. He let the feeling grow like wildfire, waiting for the day to burn them all.

That day had come.

"Baron Constantine!" Solon flung the glass eye at Baron, tore free of his attendants, and swung his wand like a madman. "You bloodless madman! Follow your father to hell!"

Lightning coiled over Baron's body like serpents. Pain burst in every nerve. He heard Solon's laughter—yet it was not the laugh of the wizard on the lion's back but the shrill, mocking giggle of a child.

Without thinking, Baron recognized it: Solon's childhood voice—condescending, cruel.

Distance in space had not blurred, but distance in time had.

Memory shot back years.

He heard the wind, saw moonlight and the bright eyes of boys, eyes that looked at a monster.

In a pitch-black alley, boys surrounded a girl in a white dress. Rough hands that had held swords and reins seized her pale wrists. Their laughter sounded like fresh cuts.

They hoisted the girl while Baron watched, tore away layers of her elaborate gown, laughing as they trampled the silk underfoot.

Pieces of white cloth fluttered like butterflies in the night.

Now.

Solon dismounted; Baron lay face-down. Even dragon scales couldn't fully blunt the lightning. He looked like a corpse, breathing so faintly Solon almost believed him dead.

Solon grabbed a fistful of Baron's hair through the bars—those bars could not bind or harm their caster—and signaled for a short sword.

"Young Master Solon, House Hesstine insists he be taken alive."

Solon slapped the servant, snatched the sword, and said flatly, "Who says a man can't live without eyes?"

Memory overlapped reality.

Baron couldn't see the girl's face; in his raised line of sight there was only a pair of quiet, unafraid green eyes—smooth as jade polished by moonlight.

"I see it! I can see it!" Young Solon crowed.

"What do you see?"

"What else?" Solon said.

His head burned. It felt as though fire crawled out of his throat.

Yelena... how dare you hurt Yelena...

"What do you see?"

The child Baron on the ground lifted his dirt- and blood-streaked face. Beneath the grime, his eyes were black and bright.

Solon flinched at those eyes, then mastered his fear. He kicked the boy hard, spat, and smirked with righteous cruelty:

"Why, the most precious thing a girl has, of course."

"Which eye?"

Memory and reality fused.

Child Baron and caged Baron answered as one.

Child Solon and present Solon froze.

Then agony burst in their eye sockets.

Both the child and the man were struck by the same person, and both lost an eye.

But this time, the eye was different.

In reality, Baron, howling through the pain, vaulted the cage and tackled Solon.

With one hand he snapped the wand; with the other he drove his fingers into Solon's remaining eye. While the servants watched in horror, he gouged out the eyeball and blasted it to pieces with his revolver.

Solon's scream tore the air. Just then the griffin-knights of House Hesstine arrived, led by Roy Hesstine, younger brother of Jill Hesstine. Under the Cage's random jump, Baron vanished.

He reappeared floating in a blood-pool of bones, facing the massive, jagged skull of a wyvern.

Behind him, worshippers knelt in prayer. Their jute cloaks, embroidered with thorned roses and the red-dragon sigil, marked them as members of the dragon-eaters.

Was this fortune at last, or simply another twist in the tiger's jaws?

Too tired to care, Baron sank to the bottom of the pool and began to drink in the wyvern's blood, letting it knit his shattered body.

Wyvern blood... not even spicy.

—

Baron Constantine (original body) Secret Notebook:

April 9, 1975 / Plains / Overcast

Master Zophy lied to me. Those glass beads are nothing but the by-products of a failed alchemy ritual.

I'm going to tell Father.

... (The page is smudged and overwritten—Baron suspects this was added later.)

Today Master Zophy took me into the mountains to watch the Beowulf family's dragon-hunting feast. They said my fiancée was there, but I never got to see her.

I have to add—Isabella of House Beowulf is one wild girl! I lost to her at arm-wrestling!

Right... I won't report Master Zophy after all. Yelena adores his glass beads.

As long as Yelena's happy, nothing else matters.