Chapter 99: Intermission: The Prime of House Security

  House Security Estate, Skyhaven – Year 705 (2 years ago)

  Casten Vorrick strode inside his estate’s Library Room, his arms clasped behind his back, his COG nowhere to be seen.

  Tall bookcases lined up the space, each filled with volumes spanning every subject known to mankind, including banned tomes from an era long before the Great War. In the center of the room, four armchairs were arranged around two large wooden reading tables.

  The library was called a room, but truly, compared to anything in Orlinth or the Foundry, it could have easily passed for an entire house, size-wise. Perhaps three even.

  He had the estate to himself for the night.

  He never married, never had children, and the house’s servants were already released from their duties for the day—sent to an early rest in their quarters outside the mansion.

  Casten recognized the injustice of their world, but it wasn’t something he lost sleep over.

  After all, what was he expected to do?

  Secretly gift funds to the lower platforms’ residents? Unsustainable in the long run.

  Push legislation in the House Summits to change world order? Without the backing of the majority of the other Houses—which would never support such a cause—it would go nowhere.

  Carve a wing out of the Vorrick Estate and donate it to the lower tiers to live in? A joke.

  He never asked to be born into this world. Never asked to be born a Vorrick—House Security. Never wanted to carry this kind of responsibility in their kind of world. More importantly, he never wanted to learn what the crystals that made Solvane function truly were. And when he had, he wished he hadn’t.

  If there had been something he could’ve done about any of it—back at the inception of their current reality—he would have done it. But now? Now he had to accept his world as it was and act within it with a practical mind. To play the hand he’d been dealt, but to also be just and fair—enough to keep his own moral compass intact.

  Or at least, that was what he used to believe.

  Up until the day his younger brother shoved the barrel of his handgun into his mouth and took his own life.

  Casten stopped before one of the bookcases, where at least twenty books were missing. Gaps left intentionally.

  He exhaled lightly as the memories hit him.

  He had always told their father that Theo was too young to join the Obsidian Crows. Not young in age, but young in mind. Too soft. Pampered his entire life.

  While Casten had been trained from a very early age to inherit the mantle of Prime Security, Theo had been given full freedom. Freedom to chase whatever caught his interest, to switch hobbies daily, to abandon most of them halfway through. A man like that could not simply become an Obsidian Crow. It was a leap from zero to hundred—too sudden, too brutal.

  Their father dismissed his concerns.

  The Obsidian Crows, he argued, were the apex of the food chain. So well protected by the newly developed Aetherguard Mark III that Theo would be safer among them than in their own house while pursuing trivial things like painting or music.

  Casten didn’t push, and the worst came to pass. But not in the way he had expected...

  During a lengthy mission in the Foundry, Theo fell in love with the daughter of a miner. A simpleton—someone any sane Skyhavener would have recoiled from, if only because of the soot perpetually embedded in her skin.

  But Theo had always been a "weird kid".

  The missing books from their library were gifts he gave her as he attempted to teach her how to read and write. In his na?ve mind, Theo truly believed they’d be allowed to marry if he helped her “catch up”.

  Even back then, before Theo ever learned the truth, he spoke as if he already sensed it.

  “It’s like I can look into her eyes and see something there. Something that pulls me in. Something that makes my heart grow. Something not bound by hair, skin, flesh, or blood. Something pure. Something…beautiful,” Theo had told him, in this very room, when Casten tried to make him appease their parents and abandon the girl—a failed attempt.

  Theo didn’t know it at the time, but in his infatuation he had loosely described a soul. A concept unknown in Solvane. Something no one ever bothered considering a possibility.

  No one, that is, except the Heads of the Houses and other people of interest. They knew the truth.

  The girl, unfortunately, caught the Parasite and died swiftly. Theo, stationed in Skyhaven at the time, didn’t even get to say his goodbyes.

  With his world shattering, Theo wanted to descend into the Foundry without his suit and contact the Parasite as well—to die the same way as she did. It felt like the right thing to do.

  But their parents would never allow that.

  They made sure the best psychiatrists in Skyhaven treated him. Fortunately, for them, they had managed to numb his pain just enough to stop him from doing something so foolish. For a while, at least…

  Still, Theo Vorrick, once bright, cheerful, the total opposite of Casten, became a shell of his former self.

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  And while Casten did everything he could to bring that light back—the light he had always leaned on to soften his own rigid, unforgiving world as the rightful heir of House Vorrick—he had failed.

  The final nail came when their parents, in an act devoid of compassion, gifted Theo the truth.

  They believed that sharing something so important would make him feel valued. That it would force him to "grow up". That he would shed his depressive state and become Casten’s second when the time comes, bound by duty and trust.

  They, for the millionth time, misread their own son.

  Learning the truth didn’t save Theo. It pushed him to kill himself.

  Casten never forgave his parents and made sure to expedite his rise to Prime Security by any means possible.

  Casten never forgave himself either. In his heart, he carried deep self-hatred. One that would make even his greatest enemies shy away in embarrassment.

  After Theo’s death, Casten could no longer view the world the same way.

  He wanted to change things. He knew he had to—in his memory—but he didn’t know how. Solvane ticked the way it had for centuries. Everything around was so deeply ingrained that going against it wasn’t merely futile, it would be suicidal.

  Then Dolos entered his life, changing everything forever, preparing him for a future day of calamity—a time loop—and…granting him an opportunity.

  Inadvertently, Erebus’ arrival—the calamity that threatened to destroy their world—was also what Casten needed to bring change.

  Dolos also gifted him three wishes.

  “Plan those well, you won’t receive new ones on the day Erebus arrives,” Dolos had told him back then, after proving all his claims and powers beyond doubt. “You only get three. And since you’re getting them now, and not then, they’ll come with a price.”

  Their first meeting occurred six months after Theo’s death, and, to Dolos’ annoyance, Casten waited fifteen full years before making his first wish—something he had planned carefully.

  After all, he understood there was a catch to it all. He was far too smart to take Dolos at face value—he sensed the malice he radiated beneath the mask of the wise old man.

  Suddenly, the door to the Library Room opened, and a cloaked figure stepped inside.

  His first wish.

  “You’re late,” Casten said after briefly glancing at the approaching person.

  “So what?” the figure replied irritably, its voice far too similar to Casten’s own.

  The figure lowered the hood, revealing the face of none other than…Casten Vorrick.

  “You may look like me,” said the original Casten—the uncloaked one, “but you’re not me. Don’t forget that and do your job properly next time.”

  The cloaked Casten rolled his eyes and turned away, strolling toward the nearest bookshelf, examining the books. “Maybe. But don’t you forget how much trust you’ve placed in me.” He paused. “Lest you want me to deliberately feed you useless information one of these days. Just to watch you crash and burn.”

  The original Casten shook his head in irritation—aimed at Dolos rather than at his copy.

  Being able to trust only himself had put him at a severe disadvantage.

  His only friends were the Verldsons. But he couldn't put them at risk.

  And the only so-called ally he had was Primarch Rose. And even then, Casten already knew that Dolos had conspired with him as well. So, since Casten didn’t trust Dolos, he could not truly trust Dalton Rose either.

  Dolos had told them both that, to save their world from Erebus, they would need to kill Darkness’ Champion—a human chosen by Erebus to prepare Solvane for the day it would be devoured. A traitor to humanity.

  That human was unmistakably the terrorist who sprung into existence just a year ago and was wreaking havoc in the Foundry.

  Valdemar.

  And while the Primarch had done his best—at least seemingly so—to catch Libra’s leader, Casten still didn’t trust him.

  He knew people like Dalton Rose. People driven by material gain, or by less material but equally selfish pursuits, such as legacy. He also suspected Rose was gifted wishes as well—Casten couldn’t, in his right mind, believe that a Prime Agriculture could become Primarch without divine intervention.

  And so, Casten’s first wish had been simple.

  Another him.

  A clone he could will into existence at any time and send to location A while he himself could go to location B. Then, at the end of the day, he’d reunite with his other self, and Casten would receive the clone’s memories and experiences as if he had lived them himself.

  He could also recall the clone whenever he wished, but that risked the memory transfer being imperfect. A risk he was willing to take.

  Simple.

  But because Casten had refused to pay the earlier mentioned price for the wish—years from his lifespan—Dolos decided to add a drawback.

  The self hatred Casten carried was ever present in his clone—magnified even. It turned the entire arrangement into a constant struggle to control a spiteful version of his own mind.

  And Casten handled it the only way he knew.

  He crossed the distance in three quick strides, seized his clone by the neck, and slammed him against the bookshelf. Books cascaded down, on and around them.

  Casten’s gaze burned into his clone’s eyes, which now held uncharacteristic fear and discomfort.

  “Your hatred for me,” Casten said coldly, “is nothing compared to my hatred for you.”

  Then, with a single mental command, his hand still locked around the clone’s throat, Casten willed him to return.

  The clone flared with blinding light and dissolved into him, leaving behind only a COG that fell on the ground.

  Instantly, pain exploded inside Casten’s mind—sharp and consuming. He braced himself against the bookshelf to keep from collapsing as the memories of his other self crashed into his mind all at once.

  Gradually, the pain subsided as his thoughts aligned and the flood of impressions settled into coherence.

  Today, he had sent the clone to the Foundry wearing the Crow #0 suit, leading a small force of Obsidian Crows and Ironwatch Enforcers in what was expected to be a routine mine engagement against Libra’s insurgents they were tipped about. Meanwhile, Casten himself remained in Skyhaven, secretly investigating everything he could about Cecilia Baines without drawing attention to his presence.

  He hadn’t expected his clone to encounter Valdemar in the mine or anything—after all, why would Valdemar dirty his hands personally? The main purpose was just to show himself in the Foundry. To make his enemies believe he was occupied there while he worked elsewhere.

  He hadn’t expected the clone to return with anything of value for a change.

  “Novus…” Casten muttered, replaying the clone’s memories of the day in his mind.

  One of the insurgents had blurted out the name under pressure before being shot by his own people, silenced before he could reveal anything more.

  Casten exhaled slowly.

  Another lead to investigate. There were not many of those, and even less results so far.

  He knew Baines was connected to Valdemar somehow, but he just couldn’t see how yet. In the past year, he sent spies to tail her husband, even her ex-husband and son in Orlinth. None of them had uncovered anything meaningful. On the surface, they all led their mundane lives. Ordinary.

  “Perhaps, going forward, I should start coming to the Foundry instead…” he murmured, briefly considering whether he should switch roles with the clone—leave it in Skyhaven instead.

  But it was far too risky considering his volatile behavior.

  So, instead, he decided to assign his most capable Obsidian Crow to shadow Cecilia Baines directly. He didn’t trust that Crow—Wesley Slater—but in a bizarre, bitter way, he trusted him more than he trusted his other self.

  With the new plan set, Casten knew the Foundry would become a frequent destination from now on. The realization made his heart ache as it reminded him of the place he lost his brother to. But he didn’t waver. He was doing this in his memory, after all.

  Casten lowered himself into one of the armchairs and leaned back fully, allowing his mind to comb through every detail he could’ve missed so far.

  “Who are you, Valdemar?” he muttered, neither for the first time, nor the last.

  He knew that even if he figured out the masked man's identity tomorrow, he would still have to wait two years until he stopped him. He knew that for his plan to succeed, Valdemar needed to be present on that fated day when Erebus arrived—that was the key to his success.