Chương 88: Epilogue Two

Scillo's mind was broiling in a frenzied panic. I'm fucked. I'm so fucked. The illusion of safety from the past three weeks had completely shattered, leaving Scillo frozen before these twelve terrifying figures. Who were they? The leaders of the organization? But why would they drag his lowly self— No, none of that was important right now. The only thing that mattered was that they knew. They had been watching him on the surface before he was even dragged into the North.

They had eyes everywhere, and he had stupidly let his guard down. But as the icy terror threatened to almost make him collapse to the ground in despair, there was a miraculous moment of respite. The figure in the Capling mask didn't immediately signal the guards to break his neck or drag him over a cliff. Instead, the strange person tilted their head, focusing the mask's empty eye sockets onto Scillo's trembling body.

"The charge against you is simple, Scillo Oncidia," the voice declared.

"You stand under the heavy shadow of suspicion for unauthorized communication with a monster from Ghenna." Scillo felt like he was paralyzed.

"Three weeks ago, before you were dragged into the North, your movements on the surface around the Crater City flower shop were thoroughly logged. There, a senior member of this very organization witnessed the exchange firsthand and filed a formal report. You were seen in close proximity to a beast that has no right to walk upon the surface world." The surrounding figures in their beast masks remained perfectly still, but somehow, the pressure in the amphitheater doubled instantly.

"The organization does not tolerate hidden strings, nor do we ignore the potential for betrayal," the Capling mask continued.

"Speak, young one. What did the beast from Ghenna want with you, and why did you hide it from us?" Scillo felt a shard of relief cut through the fog of fright. They're giving me a chance to defend myself, he realized. It's an interrogation, not an execution. I still have a chance! Scillo swallowed, then took a step forward, his legs shaking so violently he feared he might collapse onto the floor.

"I—I—" he stammered, cold sweat dripping down his face. He pushed his hair back up with a trembling finger, blinking rapidly, trying to regain his composure. He was scared. So, so scared. But his desperate necessity of survival overrode his trembling and fear. He wasn't going to wait and simply die. The first logical thing to do was admit and confirm the sighting. There was no point in trying to deny it.

"Yes!" Scillo blurted out. Then he hesitated. What now? If he only admitted it, he was definitely going to be executed, or at least imprisoned. The only way out was… That was it! Scillo gasped, forcing his shoulders to droop in a show of relief "Yes, thank you! I was approached by one of them! I've been—I've been waiting for weeks for someone to report it to! I didn't know who to trust after Merchant's Row burned down!" The twelve masked figures didn't move.

Beside him, the Handler's watery grey eyes narrowed, watching the boy's explosive outburst with mild curiosity.

"So you admit to the contact?" the Capling mask intoned, the multi-layered voice dropping an octave.

"Of course I admit to it!" Scillo cried, slowly gaining more confidence and momentum. He couldn't afford to make a single mistake. He had to give them a story that they could find believable enough.

"It happened right outside the Crater City flower shop before the fire. The creature... it wore a stolen face. I didn't know what it was, but…" Scillo took a deep, shaky breath, thinking faster than he ever had in his life.

"It approached me while I was working inside the flower shop. It started asking questions, and I answered them, until it asked about 'field unit two'. But since nobody in the organization uses that terminology, I instantly realized that it was a fake. It was an imposter." He began to speak faster. He needed to sell them his lie before they cut him off.

"I knew if I panicked, or if I tried to run and scream, that thing would have slaughtered me before help could arrive," Scillo lied seamlessly, leaning into his identity as a weak, helpless member of the organization.

"So I played along, and it took the bait. It left without a fight because it thought I was just an ignorant fool." This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Scillo looked up, desperately searching the empty eye sockets of the masks for any sign of hope.

"I kept quiet because I wasn't sure who to trust. So I had to wait until I was brought directly to the people who actually have some level of authority."

"A neat tale," the voice from the Capling mask came. Scillo thought he heard a trace of hesitation in the voice, but that could've been simply his own desperate hope.

"You claim you managed the threat. Yet, we have only your word. How can we possibly trust you?" Scillo's heart skipped a beat. He could feel the Handler's watery grey eyes burning into the side of his face. The council wasn't buying it blindly. Slowly, but steadily, he was being backed into the cliff. But no, he wouldn't go down so easily. Think. Give them something they can't ignore. He wracked his mind desperately. There had to be something! Something he could use to— The map!

"I can prove my loyalty isn't just words," Scillo announced. The Capling mask leaned forward, their features impassive and cold The deep voice chuckled.

"Prove it, then. Words are cheap, young one. What proof do you bring?" Scillo's hands were shaking so violently he had to squeeze them into tight fists to stop the trembling. Unfortunately, he didn't have the proof with him. If he couldn't convince them right now that the contents were real, he would never walk out of this chamber.

"During my first week in the flower shop," Scillo began.

"I was inspecting the building, clearing out the old inventory. The shop belonged to a man named Fettis, a drunkard who spent most of his time asleep behind the counter. But a man named Wormwood Moss had worked for him before." The twelve masked figures stirred at the mention of Wormwood's name. As expected, they knew about him, and now, they were listening. Even the Handler had his watery grey eyes locked onto Scillo's face.

"Wormwood was obsessed with Ghenna," Scillo continued.

"As you probably know, the organization recovered his maps from his apartment—floors one through nine—but nothing beyond that. They thought the rest were lost. But they weren't. Wormwood had hidden his final work directly under the floorboards of that flower shop." Scillo took a deep breath, willing his body to steady.

"I found a hollow board beneath one of the shelves. Inside, there was a map of Floor 15." The Night-Owl mask leaned forward, the first showcase of interest. Scillo pressed forward, encouraged by the changes in attitude.

"Wormwood had scribbled in his own handwriting, a single word with an arrow pointing directly to the chamber." Scillo swallowed hard.

"It said that God was in there." All of the council reacted to that one, all of them focused entirely on Scillo's revelations.

"I didn't stay silent because I wanted to hide my encounter with the monster," he declared, laying his final card on the table.

"Moments after I found that map, Merchant's Row was sabotaged. The headquarters was burned to the ground. And so, I had to wait until I was standing before you." He looked up at the seats, silently begging for them to believe him.

"The map is still hidden where I left it." A long, agonizing silence filled the vast chamber as the twelve masked figures deliberated. Finally, the Capling mask broke the quiet.

"Very well, young one." The Capling mask signaled to the guards by waving their gloved hand.

"We shall accept your terms for investigation. However, you will not be returning to the archives. Until our teams have seized the document from the coordinates you will provide, and verified its authenticity, you will remain imprisoned indefinitely." Before Scillo could offer any response, the two guards clamped their iron grips onto his arms. They marched him backward, back into the dark tunnel. Scillo could barely register the fact that he was going to be imprisoned. He had done it! He had actually survived.

As the guards dragged him away from the grand amphitheater, the freezing panic that had gripped his chest slowly began to thaw, and so did the adrenaline that had been driving him forward. Scillo could hardly believe it. He had stared straight into the eyes of—what was probably—some of the organization's highest authority, lied through his teeth, and walked away with his neck still intact. The heavy stone doors of the chamber shut behind them.

Now, the only illumination came from the single lantern carried by the handler, who walked a few paces ahead of them down the descending tunnel. The guards dragged Scillo forward, his feet trailing uselessly against the stone floor. He didn't bother to walk. His mind was already working furiously, already calculating his next move. I bought myself time, he thought. But this wouldn't last. If for some reason, the map was gone, or worse, destroyed, Scillo was most definitely going to be executed.

"You possess a remarkably sharp tongue, young man," the handler said conversationally.

"To turn a trial into a negotiation… truly fascinating. But remember what I told you about risks, my boy. The organization will verify everything about your supposed "truth"." Scillo didn't answer. His throat felt as dry as parchment, and he felt just about ready to collapse. But he just needed to hold it together a little longer. The tunnel leveled out, the air grew noticeably colder. They were clearly deep underground now. They continued onwards, until they stopped in front of a solid metal door.

One of the guards reached forward, sliding back the heavy iron bolt situated in the front. The door swung open to reveal a cramped, windowless cell containing nothing but a stone bench and a small tallow candle. The iron grips on Scillo's arms were finally released, and he was shoved into the cell. He turned around just in time to see the handler stepping up, looking down at him with his watery, unreadable grey eyes.

"Rest well," the handler murmured, offering a polite nod.

"The team departs immediately. Pray that your map is exactly where you left it." The heavy door slammed shut, the iron bolts sliding into place. Scillo stood frozen in the center of the cell, listening as the footsteps of the guards and the handler faded down the corridor, leaving him entirely alone.