Chapter 10: How Did It Get There?

  My eyes widened as I studied the key and note in my hands.

  The writing wasn’t familiar.

  Neither was the key. A bronze key shouldn’t be something an Orlinther has – that was way beyond most people’s budget.

  How did they both get into my pocket? More importantly – who put them there?

  “Are you paying or not?” The woman who brought me to the COMM-ANNEX snapped, yanking me out of my thoughts.

  I nodded quickly, pulling the remaining coins from the same pocket and sliding them into the coin chute, completing the transaction.

  The coins I had left would only be enough for a ride back to Orlinth - if that ride ever happens.

  I stepped back out to the second floor, my mind racing.

  There were so many people who could’ve slipped something into my pocket today.

  Let’s work backward: Alice. The Enforcer at the entrance of the Divine. The Enforcer who bodychecked me when I arrived in Skyhaven. The dock worker I paid for the ride up. The Enforcer at the dock station in Orlinth – Captain Duran. Someone from the Ironwatch Station where I’d spent the night. Or maybe…even one of my two cellmates.

  Fuck – it could even be Devin!

  What did it even mean? ‘I see you’.

  Who was watching me? And why?

  I glanced around nervously.

  My eyes landed on Alice. She met my gaze with a smile and a wave.

  I forced a smile back. If it was her…I had to stay calm. Stay in control. I couldn’t let her see her note had taken me to a breaking point.

  I turned and headed for the stairs – back to the third floor.

  Trent was still nowhere to be seen.

  Okay, think logically. If I want to figure out who slipped this into my pocket, I need to narrow down when it happened.

  But how?

  My mind immediately drifted to the Déjà vu System.

  Considering I likely wouldn’t remember to check my pockets for the key at the start of the next loop, marking it with Temporal Trace was the safest bet.

  I had no idea how the function worked – but there was no better time to test it.

  Let’s start small.

  I walked toward the side of the floor, where a boyish teenage girl with short black hair was running tests on her invention. It emitted an awful squeal every time she flipped a switch, but otherwise didn’t seem to do anything. Either way, she looked entirely engrossed – enough to ignore me completely. Perfect.

  I opened the DjV interface on my COG and selected Temporal Trace. Then I focused on the wall in front of me.

  Suddenly, a small glowing orb materialized on the surface.

  [Temporal Trace Level 3: A mark has been set]

  [Marks Set: (1). Marks Left: (2)]

  I glanced around. No one seemed to be looking in my direction.

  I reached out and touched the orb. My fingers passed right through it. It wasn’t there – not physically, at least.

  Was I the only one who could see it?

  “Hey,” I called to the girl, “excuse me.”

  She didn’t look up, sounding grumpy. “Busy.”

  “I just need your attention for a second.”

  She groaned and finally raised her head. Her eyes were bleary, purple bags beneath them, and her dark, messy hair stuck out in random directions.

  “What?” She asked flatly.

  She didn’t seem to notice the glowing orb, or she did a damn good job ignoring it.

  “What do you think about that?” I asked, pointing at the orb behind me.

  She followed my finger, stared at the wall for a moment, then looked back at me with growing irritation. “About what? It's just a plain wall."

  That confirms it – only I could see the mark.

  “Yeah.” I said, turning back to it. “Nice color, isn’t it?”

  She shook her head with visible disgust and returned to her machine.

  I reopened the DjV interface, navigated to Temporal Trace, and found the option I was hoping existed there.

  [Temporal Trace Level 3: Remove all marks?]

  [YES / NO]

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Convenient.

  The last thing I needed was a random mark here confusing my future selves.

  I selected YES, and just like that, the orb vanished without a trace.

  [Temporal Trace Level 3: All marks removed]

  As I turned to head back to my exhibit, I heard the girl mutter behind me.

  “Moron.”

  I stopped. “What?”

  She didn’t even look up. “Every wall in this place looks the same. You stopped my work for that?”

  She threw up her hands in frustration, knocking a torsion wrench off the table. It bounced off a crate, then flipped over a box full of different sized cogs and other metallic materials, scattering them across the floor.

  “Ugh, fuck!” she groaned, dropping to her knees to pick them up.

  I felt bad for her, believing I was the reason for it to happen, so I knelt down to help.

  “Don’t touch my shit, loser.” She snapped, growing even more irritated than before.

  “Let me help.” I said. “I know how hard our profession can be. I didn’t mean to disrupt your work.”

  She groaned. “You’re – You’re not – “

  She never finished the sentence. Her voice cracked slightly, but she quickly turned her face away and continued collecting her scattered materials.

  I kept helping, and this time she didn’t protest. Maybe she’d decided it wasn’t worth the fight. Or maybe she was just…tired. She definitely looked the part.

  We finished gathering everything back into the wooden box. I didn’t expect a ‘thank you’, but I surely didn’t expect what came next.

  Without hesitation, she poured all the cogs and components back onto the floor.

  My eyes widened.

  “I don’t need your help, trash.” She said, her tone venomous, her gaze sharper than a folded sword. She stared at me like I’d insulted her by existing.

  I raised my hands, unsure what to make of it. “Okay, you made your point.”

  Why was everyone from Skyhaven such a piece of shit? Were these the people I was tasked with saving?!

  Let Valdemar and Erebus take them all!

  But no – I dismissed the thought just as fast as it came. I wasn’t doing this for them. I was doing it for my father. For Trent and his mother. For the people that mattered to me.

  I stood up and left. Shaking her disdain off.

  I had more pressing problems.

  Now – where should I place the actual mark?

  The inner pocket? Too deep. I’d only find the mark if I was already reaching in – which defeats the point.

  Right above it, then. On the outer lining of my jacket, directly above the inner pocket.

  Hopefully, my next loop’s self will be sharp enough to figure it out.

  I focused and placed the new marker.

  [Temporal trace: A mark has been set]

  [Marks Set: (1). Marks Left: (2)]

  Now, let’s see what else I can do.

  I could store the key and the note in this…Inventory.

  I walked back toward the wall, raising the key toward me COG’s screen.

  Store.

  The key vanished from my hand.

  [Inventory]

  - Bronze Key x1

  My heart thundered.

  How does that even work?!

  I still struggled to accept magic of this caliber. Mana crystals were one thing, but this? This was too much for now.

  I did the same for the note – but this time, an error blinked on the screen.

  [Error: Storing this item violates Déjà vu System Protocol #3401. Item is restricted and classified]

  What? Why?

  I tried again.

  [Warning: Written items are prohibited from storage. Continued attempts to store this item will trigger a System Lockdown]

  “Okay, okay – no need to go that far. I get it. Sheesh.” I muttered, lowering my hand.

  I returned to my exhibit, still holding the note.

  I brought it closer, attempting to analyze it further.

  The handwriting didn’t help. It was perfectly neutral – neither masculine nor feminine. No flourish. No pressure.

  Almost like whoever wrote it didn’t want to be recognized.

  “Had to beat up a grandpa for it, but I got the paper!” I suddenly heard Trent call out. I instinctively lowered the note.

  He noticed. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head, already reaching for the Chrono Quill’s paper compartment.

  Trent caught the hint and handed me the fresh stack. I loaded it in, calibrated the device, and synced it with my COG.

  It was ready.

  “Ahhh, perfect!” Trent said cheerfully. “Wanna run a test?”

  “No.” I said, shaking my head. “No need.”

  I turned to him. Time to start narrowing down suspects.

  “Hey, Trent,” I began, “that blonde woman on the second floor…who is she?”

  He laughed. “You’ll have to be more specific. There were three blondes down there.”

  Trust Trent to clock and remember every female in a ten-meter radius. I, for one, hadn’t even noticed there were others.

  “The one who looks like an oligarch.” I said. “Alice.”

  His eyes widened, seemingly impressed. “Out of all the ladies, you picked one of the highest caliber, my friend.”

  “It’s not like that.” I muttered, waving off the jab. “Is she an oligarch? Or did I misread her?”

  “Definitely is.” Trent replied, then hesitated. “Well…on second thought, it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated?”

  He nodded. “She does come from one of the oligarchic families – the Verldson family. House Energy.”

  I nodded slowly, impressed.

  It was fair to say her house oversaw the single most critical aspect of Solvane. Without mana crystals, we wouldn’t just lose power or tools – we’d lose the ability to hold the platforms afloat. Solvane would collapse.

  “I still don’t get what’s complicated.” I said.

  “I’m getting there.” Trent pointed a finger. “You need to work on your patience.”

  “You need to work on your storytelling.” I bit back.

  He chuckled. “Fair enough. So – her parents died about a year ago. In a fire. She was too young and unprepared to inherit full control of the House, so she became the ward of Casten Vorrick. In the meantime, Dalton Rose took over House Energy’s responsibilities.”

  More power to the Head of Solvane, then.

  “Who’s Casten Vorrick?” I asked, unfamiliar with the name.

  Trent narrowed his eyes at me. “Seriously, dude? How don’t you know that?”

  I shrugged. “You know I never cared about history or civics. Just tell me.”

  Trent sighed. “Casten Vorrick is the head of the Vorrick family – House Security. Second only to Dalton Rose. And the only reason Valdemar hasn’t made it to Skyhaven yet.”

  Keyword – yet.

  So, she was the ward of the man who stood as Valdemar’s greatest enemy. That made it unlikely she had anything to do with the incoming end of the world.

  Unless…I was missing something.

  I needed to learn more about her. Or at the very least, see her handwriting.

  “Why’d you ask?” Trent asked suddenly.

  I couldn’t tell him the truth. But I wasn’t going to lie outright either – I was never good at that.

  “I spoke with her earlier.” I admitted. “She – “

  “YOU SPOKE TO AN OLIGARCH?!” Trent exploded, drawing every pair of eyes toward us.

  He gave them all a mean look. “What are you looking at? Get back to work, you lazy bums!”

  Then, he turned back to me. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

  I sighed, continuing from where I left off. “She thinks the Chrono Quill could be combined with her invention to create something…better.”

  Trent’s eyes lit up. “Dude! That’s what you’ve waiting for! Recognition from someone who actually matters! Go for it!”

  “It’s not that simple.” I replied.

  “Of course it is.” Trent said. “Skyhaveners act all high and mighty, but they don’t have the grit we Orlinthers do. She can’t fool you.”

  “It’s not that.” I said, shaking my head. “And I’m not looking for recognition. You know that. That’s never been why I wanted to become an inventor.”

  Trent hesitated. “I know, I just – “

  “Forget it.” I said, brushing it aside. “Either way, I’m not shutting her offer down completely. But I need to understand who she is before I agree to anything.”

  Trent nodded. “Makes sense. So what do you wanna do?”

  “We talk to her. A bit more. Feel her out. Strike a deal if everything works for us.” I said, obviously not revealing the real reason for this talk.

  He nodded again, livelier this time, completely unfazed by the idea of talking to an oligarch for the first time in his life.

  “Let’s show her our Orlinth grit.” He said.