The air in the Abyss remained thick with the abstinence of Vaylora. Darius stood opposite Meridan Holt. Grand Master Varin looked on, his hands resting heavily on the hilt of his broadblade.

  "You want to be on the right side of things?" Darius challenged. He began to pace around Archbishop Holt, his armored boots silent on the black Abyss floor. "With your intelligence and savvy, you could easily be the Spy we're looking for, using this moment to lower our guard. Why should we trust anything you say?"

  Holt's smile widened, a cold, self-aware expression. "You shouldn't," she said simply. "Doubt everything I say and the things I claim, and even more the things I don't say." She paused, letting the cynicism sink in before offering a single, grudging assurance. "Just know this: I'm not fool enough to align myself with a Circle of Apostates. And even if I did, I would have cut all ties after seeing Alleve's Hallow with my own eyes."

  Varin, his heavy brows furrowed, was the one to ask. "What do you mean?"

  "I've had my people roaming the streets. I've read the reports," Holt said. "Beings are roaming here that could lay the Empire low on their own. Yet they all convene here, free as birds, and peaceful as doves."

  "Peaceful as doves?" Darius smirked.

  "Relatively." Holt chuckled.

  "As long as the Sanctum has the blessing of the Gods, they can conquer all things," Varin stated, a familiar, deep-seated conviction in his voice.

  Holt nodded her head in agreement, a patronizing gesture. "Blessings come in many forms. Most of which we often overlook, Grand Master. Perhaps this Accord, allying ourselves with The Hallows, is such a blessing."

  Varin stared at Holt, his face twisting in disgust. "How could you say such things?"

  Holt merely shrugged her shoulders. "I like being on the winning team. And throughout all time... our world has only seen a LeFaye laid low... by another LeFaye. Not even the Demons are immune to this fact." She gestured toward the political machinations that bound Darius. "So who could possibly be more blessed by the Gods? The choice is simply academic."

  Darius scoffed, feeling the weight of her logic settle on him, and then asked if she had anything else to say.

  Holt leaned in conspiratorially. "I have just one thing to share. Perhaps they shouldn't focus solely on the blood. You are dealing with a coven of Apostates. Apostates that can hide their taint. There's nothing to say they can't maneuver themselves or their people, without the use of such blood."

  Darius frowned, his logic already searching for the flaw. "If they don't have the taint, how could the Circle trust they wouldn't betray them?"

  Holt shrugged her shoulders, genuinely not having an answer for him. "I'm just giving you something to think about. We need to explore all our options."

  "If that's the case," Darius said, a slow realization dawning, "then Archbishop Venn will still be a suspect."

  Holt nodded, confirming his fear. "But doesn't that work for what you have planned?"

  Darius chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Indeed, it does." He turned and called out Isolde's name. The air shimmered, and the familiar black seam of a Void opened behind Holt. She walked back into the room.

  "I suggest you all speak plain and honest," Holt advised the others before stepping through the opening. "That young Inquisitor is very sharp. Best for you just to have a pleasant conversation."

  Darius then called for Kaswyn to come. He briskly walked through. He had the face of a man who wanted to speak to your superiors. As he passed through the open void, it closed behind him.

  The conversation between the three of them did not last long. Kaswyn came out shouting his innocence, complaining loudly that they should get rid of Crestwell now and be done with all this. Darius and Varin just listened to the man rant and rave for several minutes, not stopping him. His volume was deafening, his outrage genuine. It became clear that he was more of a threat to himself, to his own reputation and health, than to the Accords.

  "Unless he's the greatest actor the realm has ever seen," Darius sighed to himself, "there will be no way he is the spy."

  "He's out," Darius muttered to Varin after the man had been sent back through the Void. "But Venn is back on... how ironic."

  As Kaswyn went back, Darius called Crestwell forward.

  The man was a nervous wreck the moment he walked out of the Void. He stammered a greeting, his eyes darting frantically between Darius and Varin. However, Darius instantly picked up that his nervousness seemed... practiced. Darius, who grew up in the slums, had seen plenty of truly scared people—men, women, children. He knew fear and nervousness when he saw it. This was not it.

  Darius turned to look at Varin, who subtly nodded his head, having picked up on the practiced behavior of Crestwell.

  "Why are you so nervous, Bishop?" Varin sighed, rubbing his temples. "We haven't even asked you anything yet."

  Crestwell stammered, his words an act that would nearly make Darius smile at how fake it seemed to him. The well-practiced stammer ended. "I already know how this is going to go," he said, forcing his voice to tremble. "I'm a witch sympathizer, there's no way you are going to believe Kaswyn is a spy, and that goes doubly for Malrek... and Holt, she has more connections than anyone. Even if she were a spy, you would be hell-bent on doing anything to her. So I'm the only option, the scapegoat."

  Darius smirked. "Do you think I would care about any of that? When a Spy of an Apostate is running around." He slapped Crestwell hard on the back, forcing a strained gasp from the Bishop. "Me? The Inquisitor that is smitten with a witch?"

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Crestwell flinched as Darius leaned over his shoulder to look the man in the eyes. Darius chuckled and backed away, looking at the Grand Master, who had an uncomfortable look on his face.

  "Don't look so surprised," Darius said to Varin. "I've heard all the rumors. Inquisitors aren't good at hiding gossip."

  Darius walked back in front of the shivering Crestwell, his hands clasped behind him. "So stop playing these games... and let me see your real face."

  Crestwell frowned. "What do you mean?"

  Darius drew his blade. Its metal, ever glowing red. The crimson light reflected ominously under Crestwell's chin as the tip of the blade nearly touched his throat. Crestwell stuttered again, but before he could speak, Darius cut him off.

  "Cut the bullshit before I run you through right here."

  "You wouldn't dare kill me here," Crestwell challenged, though his voice was laced with a lingering, feigned tremor.

  "Why not?" Darius asked. "The Grand Master doesn't seem to mind."

  Crestwell's eyes glanced at the Grand Master, who stood there with his arms folded, unconcerned, with a look of weary patience. Crestwell began to "hyperventilate" while holding his hands up in a pleading pose. Darius raised his sword high, ready to swing. Crestwell closed his eyes, his body shivering uncontrollably.

  "Goodbye, father," Darius whispered.

  He swung his sword.

  Crestwell let out a sigh; his shivering died in an instant. He lowered his hands and opened his eyes. His eyes were dead as still water. A look of disgust spread like wildfire across his face as Darius stopped his blade short of his throat. The Archbishop scoffed, pushing Darius's sword from his neck. "You were never going to kill me, were you?"

  "Nope," Darius said, tucking his sword away, eyes as dead as the Archbishop's.

  "Holt was right. You are brighter than your position or your age would suggest." Crestwell rubbed the back of his head in annoyance, shedding the nervous persona entirely.

  Darius smiled. "So let's have a conversation."

  "There's no need," Crestwell replied. "I'm not the spy, and I don't know who is, but I will tell you one thing."

  "What is that you have to say?" Varin asked, his stern voice surprising Crestwell into attention.

  "You need to kill both Malrek and Kaswyn," Crestwell stated flatly, "if you want these accords to proceed smoothly."

  "What do you mean by that?" Darius demanded, all amusement gone.

  Crestwell raised a hand, stopping him. "I won't be saying anything else. I won't be saying anything that could give away my informants."

  Master Varin sighed, rubbing his temples. None of the Priests were easy to deal with. He'd hate to see what it would be like to investigate a Cardinal.

  "Crestwell," Darius frowned, "you and Holt seem to be very informed, but neither of you noticed a Spy?"

  "We both have gaps in our info," Crestwell conceded. "But Venn seemed to know more than all of us when it came to the possibility of a spy. She constantly kept her distance from us... even me... who shares her views on witches."

  Darius's eyes narrowed. He looked at Varin, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod. He didn't like this feeling. Things that were true just moments ago now read as a lie.

  His mind raced through each suspect. Kaswyn was too loud, too emotional—the man couldn't hide guilt if his life depended on it. His entire worldview was predictable, which made him the easiest to manipulate but useless as a spy. The Circle would never trust him with anything delicate.

  Holt was different. Sharp, strategic, loyal only to herself. But she didn't need to be the spy—she'd simply pivot to whichever side emerged strongest. Her survival instinct was too refined to back a losing cause.

  Darius locked eyes with Crestwell for longer than the Archbishop was comfortable, forcing him to turn away. The man hid competence under that ridiculous mask of weakness. He had informants, access to lower-tier clergy—everything the Circle could exploit. But did he have the boldness?

  Darius tapped his fingers on Devotion's sheath, and finally made his call as he leaned in towards The Grand Master.

  "I don't think it's him. But I'm not completely certain."

  "Agreed," the Grand Master said reluctantly. The other three didn't seem like the spies to him either. Just borderline blasphemous priests. Outside of Kaswyn, who was just a zealot that made even Varin blush with embarrassment. That left only one suspect.

  Darius called for Isolde again. The Void opened, and Crestwell's face changed in real-time as he began his passive act once again, bowing submissively as he walked back into the void. Darius let out a chuckle and rolled his eyes. "Ridiculous."

  Archbishop Malrek walked out of the Void unprompted. As the Void closed behind him, Malrek looked at Varin and nodded. Varin returned the nod.

  "Crestwell looked shaken... truly shaken for once. Seems our young Inquisitor here got him to drop his mask." Malrek chuckled coolly.

  "You knew?" Darius asked.

  "Of course, I knew. We all have our weapons. He's effective, a bit ridiculous. But effective. He's ultimately harmless, so I let him play his games." Malrek smiled.

  "You stripped him of it in a conversation that didn't even last an hour. Impressive. Seems Garran taught you more than just the sword. And you've learned well. Though I suppose he didn't teach you how to properly pick a wom..."

  "That's quite enough... former Grand Master." Darius cut him off before he could continue. Darius would be the one to dictate the flow of this conversation, not Malrek.

  "My apologies, Commander. It seems Holt... is correct again. So why don't we have ourselves a conducive conversation?" Malrek bowed his head and raised it with a genuine smile.

  "How can I be of assistance, young Commander?"

  Darius stared Malrek down. There were many things he could say to open things up. For someone like Malrek, he needed to shake him to his core.

  "During the conversations I've had with the others, a thought crossed my mind."

  "Do tell," Malrek added, while Varin looked at the boy with confusion.

  "We've all assumed that the spies were strictly under Cursed Bounty's control."

  "Well, that's because he's the only Apostate we are aware of, and the only one with enough knowledge to pull this off," Varin added.

  "True, true... but then I thought, this is a Coven. No doubt Cursed Bounty would enter a Circle with the strongest Apostates he could find. So what if another also had ways to spy and manipulate us from within?"

  Malrek's eyes narrowed. "Ask your question, Inquisitor." Malrek's jaw tightened. Darius's smile was wide and bright.

  "What can you tell me... about Pale Seer... Former Grand Master?"

  "Darius!" Varin shouted anxiously. And the Vaylora around Malrek exploded.

  "What was that?" Malrek roared. Darius scoffed. "Devotion... sever."

  Faster than either of them could follow, he drew Devotion and cut through the Vaylora Malrek had gathered. Darius smirked.

  "I said... What can you tell me about Pale Seer? Another outburst, and I will take it as an admission of guilt."

  Malrek's eyes widened as he searched for the Vaylora he controlled, which was ripped from his control in that instant. His eyes locked with Darius; there was no respect in them, only a Soldier fulfilling duty.

  "You come by it honestly." Malrek's head lowered as he began to speak.