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Chapter Text

Prologue
Before Disaster Strikes

There was running, crying while horror filled the air and the voices of people who were trying by all means to escape a nightmare which had suddenly collapsed on their heads. They were unaware that it could be at the price of their lives—still, anything that could provide them a semblance of security would do.

Others were just standing there, watching from afar while it all unfolded. What could they have gained by trying to escape anyway? They knew all too well that one day, a calamity such as this one would befall them. So they simply decided to wait for their deaths to happen. They had seen, and feared, and prayed too much. What they needed to do was pray one more time and just wait for it to occur, for their lives to end.

Disaster was slowly poisoning the atmosphere and nothing could take it back. No matter how much everyone wished for a change, the engine had started and no one had enough skill to stop it before it was too late. In truth, all had begun months, even years prior to what they had to witness. Nobody had been able to notice anything—not before the professor was called for help.

And there he was. Standing in the middle of the city of Ashburg, wondering if, for the first time in his life, he was on the verge of failing. Could Hershel Layton truly be helpless before all the suffering people had asked him to get them rid of only five days earlier?

He was not alone. Surrounded by a young boy and a woman who shared the same thoughts as him, though they stood out—they didn’t look terrified. They wished they could find a way to prevent the massacre, the pain and then restore peace. It was orchestrated “in the name of peace”, or at least that’s what they had been told to believe. But at what cost would it finally be over? Can hope still stand when everything seems lost?

Hershel Layton had promised them, though. “I am going to save your city. Everything is going to be alright. I demand that you trust me—I know you all can,” was all he could manage when he had to put on a brave face in front of all to keep up appearances. But scared though he may have been, a promise was a promise, and a gentleman never betrays a trust.

Still, minutes later, everything seemed to be in vain. It was the last words he could pronounce before failing, and then falling to the ground, in spite of every attempt he’d made.

But for now, in that same city, located far from London, life was peaceful and quiet. No one could tell that just a few days from then, everything would fall apart and many lives would change.

In London, one man was waking up, and unbeknownst to him, he was about to receive a letter that would force him to plunge into the center of the danger. His life, too, would change. But would it be for better, or for worse?

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Trepidation

The sun rose over London as the clock struck a quarter to eight. It was still early, but many people were flooding the streets, rushing to get to work or simply to take a stroll so they could enjoy the rising sun, the soft weather—they were happy to be alive, and enjoyed their lives.

Hershel Layton would have loved to do the same, if only he could manage finding the time to do something other than working day and night to catch up on all the work that needed to be done. His recent trips related to finding the Azran legacy had been quite time consuming, and the curiosity it had arisen following these events had quickly started to grew on him. He couldn’t forget all the trips and the adventures he’d lived, eighteen years back, with the best friend he’d just found again, after all these years filled by guilt—perhaps that, for his sake as well, he wanted to learn what the Azran legacy was about. Admittedly, that legacy was quite the center of attention in the research community to which he belonged, so it was difficult for him to avert his eyes from it.

But this desire could not erase every other duty he had to fulfill. In truth, the professor was starting to collapse under the weight of it all, though he didn’t want to admit it. Who would want to hear about it, anyway? He was living alone. He owned indeed a flat, but finding him there seemed like a miracle. He had no one waiting for him out there—Claire was gone, Emmy had left, Luke was still living with Clark and Brenda, and the rest of the time, he was at school. Though, that was when Layton didn’t need Luke with him on a thrilling adventure—or when Luke didn’t ask to accompany him, at the very least. So the least Layton could do was to work whenever he didn’t fall asleep on his couch.

And it happened again, of course.

That morning, he woke up to the sound of someone knocking at his door—probably Rosa, as always.

“Come in," the professor groaned, still half asleep. He did manage, however, to put on his top hat before the old woman could enter. And, just as he expected, the smiling Rosa stood before him, bringing him a breakfast he often didn’t even honor, most shamefully—and though he never admitted it, the lady couldn’t ignore it.

But this time, there was a letter placed on the tray. Although he often received the most intriguing letters before going out for an adventure, he actually received very few letters—so indeed, this one triggered his attention. But before he could manage to pick it up, he heard Rosa talking to him.

“One more night at the office, I see, Professor. I shouldn’t need to remind you that it isn’t good for your health to live the way you do—why don’t you ever try going home to take some rest?” Rosa asked, concern filling her voice.

“Because there is no one waiting for me. At least, here, I can do what I love most—working, researching, though it often tires me out.” He’d almost heard himself answer this, but nothing actually came out of his mouth. He wouldn’t speak of his true feelings so openly with someone, no matter who it was.

Rosa’s question was met with a silence, which surprised her. The usually cheerful professor never looked down with such a tired look on his face. But before Rosa could come up with something else, Layton managed a smile and what the lady thought she’d seen just seemed to vanish into thin air.

“I know, Rosa. I am sorry. But soon, I will think about it, I promise you.”

“Well, I have trouble believing you, since you never know when to stop,” Rosa smiled. “But I suppose you know what you’re doing! I’ll stop by your room later. Don’t forget to eat breakfast! At least it’ll give you some strength for yet another day.”

The professor waited for Rosa to leave his office, and took a sip from a still smoking cup of Earl Grey. When he looked carefully at the letter, he thought he’d see the sender’s name. Much to his surprise, there was none. “How strange,” he muttered. Now he was even more eager to learn about the contents of that letter, no matter how tired he was. The thought of having to leave Gressenheller once more to put an end to some new crimes that could be committed right as he was thinking in a far-out city didn’t please him much at first. Hopefully, it’ll only be a mistake from the part of the sender—but still, I should take a look at it. It could be important.

His expectations were met with confusion.

“Dear Professor Layton,

The situation is critical. You do not know who I am, but I know enough about you to implore you to come and help me—help us. You are an intelligent man. There is no doubt that the disaster awaiting to strike my city could be avoided if only you accepted to travel all the way to Ashburg.

For weeks now, scientists, tourists, ordinary people have been abducted. It happens too often to not care about it. Sometimes, people disappear every single night, and sometimes it seems to settle down during a few days, but peace never lasts. No one knows who is hiding behind the shadows. Many people are afraid to come out of their homes at night, fearing they’d be taken away in a moment’s notice. We hear rumors, but no one knows where the truth and where the lies hide. I need you—we, the people of Ashburg, need you to solve this case before something worse happens.

I promise I will tell you more in person. I understand your unease, perhaps even your suspicions, but this is a matter of life and death. We can meet on Tuesday, on the town square, at dusk.

I hope to be seeing you there. Thank you.”

 

There was no signature. No name. Nothing. No clue, but still, the professor had completely changed his mind. He had to act quickly, just as the sender begged him to—there was no time to hesitate. Many lives were indeed at stake. Though this time it looked like he didn’t know anything about the sender, he had to trust them; there was no point in asking a man such as himself to come all the way to the North of England just for the sake of a silly joke, was there?

He actually didn’t know much about Ashburg, except its location. It’d always seemed like a peaceful little town where tourists loved to visit. At the same time, it was the perfect place to abduct people without anyone noticing. Hershel Layton had heard that the city was surrounded by a huge forest, and there was nothing for miles around. Anyone wanting to stir up any kind of trouble was at home in that town.

When the professor decided to place the letter back on the small table before him, another piece of paper he hadn’t seen fell out. It contained the instructions to find Ashburg.

Once more, it seemed that he could use the help of his faithful young apprentice, Luke Triton. Leaving an empty cup of tea on the table, he didn’t want to waste any more time—a new adventure awaited them. Since Luke had moved to London almost two years ago, it didn’t take Hershel long before he found himself on the Tritons’ porch. He was glad to be able to visit his friends from his early days that easily—Luke got happiness out of it as well.

After a moment with Clark in the living room, Layton excused himself. He had to go and talk to Luke. Clark sensed something was wrong with his friend but he didn’t dare ask what it was; after all, it probably had nothing to do with him. He did not want to sound rude, and surely, Layton would have told him that everything was fine regardless, just as he always did. However, Clark knew that whatever the professor had to discuss with his son, it would imply him leaving once more the house for an undetermined amount of time. He was getting used to it—Layton had always been taking care of Luke as well as a father could do, if not better.

As soon as Layton knocked on Luke’s door, he was granted permission to enter his room. The young boy was surprised to see him, but he didn’t conceal his excitement either.

“Professor! I am glad to see you again,” Luke greeted the tall man with a huge smile.

“Luke. I am here to show you a curious letter I just received this morning,” the other confessed, wanting to go straight to the point.

“Let me see it,” asked the boy—though it sounded more like an order than just a request—and he immediately started reading. As Layton had thought, his enthusiasm could never be lost.

Through his reading, the professor could see Luke frown. He seemed to react just as he himself did merely thirty minutes ago. Once more, he fell deep in thought, trying to see if there wasn’t any clues hidden in the sentences he’d read—it had happened two years before, after all—but he couldn’t make anything of it. He still remembered the sentences, having read them again once or twice during his quick trip aboard the bus. There was something though, he just knew it. Why did the sender choose to stay anonymous? Hell, the professor didn’t even know if it was a woman or a man! Perhaps they didn’t want him to do some research on them before he left for Ashburg? If so, the person he’d have before him the next day had taken an awful lot of precautions.

“Do you think it could be a joke, Professor?” asked Luke, striking Layton out of his reverie.

“I don’t know, my boy. But I feel like there will be much more meeting the eye than what’s written here. I think we should go as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure that your intuition is at it once again,” giggled the young boy. “Then I’ll go find my dad to announce him that we’re leaving!”

Luke didn’t waste time—half a hour later, they were back at Gressenheller. Soon, packing was done, and all that was left for them was to hit the road. They would wait the following morning, however. Twenty hours during which the professor could not stop thinking. He also felt fear at the idea of dragging his apprentice along once more on a complicated trip. But no matter how dangerous it’d be, he needed the young boy by his side—going on a trip without him felt too difficult to him.

A feeling of dread he couldn’t shake soon threatened to take hold of him. What were they going to find out there? His intuition never failed him. And this time, just as Luke thought, he felt it—there was much more happening in Ashburg than what the curious sender had revealed.

There was something else, something the professor would never tell anyone—at the corner of his mind, a memory looked like it was about to awake. It seemed so fuzzy that he couldn’t do anything with it, even if he wanted to. Still, it was troubling him to no end. What was that all about? He was frustrated not to be able to understand it more. Perhaps some answers would lie in Ashburg? He had trouble believing that, but whatever was about to happen, he’d just have to find it out for himself.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Disturbance

“Are you okay, Professor?”

Was he okay, indeed? Layton himself didn’t know what to answer. He truly hadn’t thought that far ahead—his only talent was to discover ancient legacies and to speak in riddles. Nothing more. In truth, very few people inquired about his state of mind. And whenever it happened, Layton mechanically answered that everything was fine, because he was used to doing so.

He turned his head to face his apprentice as he held harder the wheel between his hands. “Of course, my boy.” Of course I am okay. I always have been. Why should the answer be different now? Because I am saddled with complicated feelings? Because the last few months have been exhausting? Because…

“You look…different.”

“You don’t have to worry. I am tired is all.”

“If you say so, Professor,” Luke surrendered. “I hope we can find some time to rest in Ashburg.”

The professor shrugged. “I don’t think it will happen, Luke. Our time in that town is going to be…lively, to say the least.”

The hours following this awkward discussion were met with silence while Layton was concentrated on the road (and on his thoughts). Luke eventually fell asleep. Such a sight eased the professor, who could not hold back a smile.

They had been driving for five hours when the same innocent voice as earlier pulled Layton out of his slumber once more.

“Are we getting there soon?” the young boy yawned.

Layton looked up at the sky, and then down at his watch. “Patience, my boy. Only two hours left. We will arrive just in time, as I predicted.”

“I’m looking forward to solving yet another mystery with you, Professor! I’m sure it’ll be our biggest case together.”

Layton smiled. Luke was convinced he’d just seen the professor flicker, but only for the briefest of moments—there was something wrong with him after all. However, he said nothing. Even if he brought up that subject once again, the professor’s answer would not change, he just knew it. He’d just have to let it slide. Maybe Mr. Layton thinks I’m too young to understand…but I’m sure I can make him proud. I’ll just show him during this investigation!

After a while, Layton spoke again. “You’re probably right,” Though I don’t know if that’s for better or for worse. “But I do wonder: why did the sender want to remain anonymous? We will eventually have to meet them. So what was the point?” the professor could not help but share his thoughts aloud, without even realizing it.

Luke took that opportunity to share with his mentor his theories on the matter. “Maybe they play a role in those abductions, and they don’t want us to learn about it before we arrive?”

“My thoughts exactly, Luke,” smiled the professor. He was glad to notice that he wasn’t the only one thinking about that. “But that’s not the only possible explanation.”

“Yeah…or, maybe, Descole plays a role in all this? It wouldn’t be the first time!” There was contempt in the young boy’s voice.

“We will soon get to learn more.”

As expected, two hours later, Hershel Layton parked his car outside Ashburg. The full moon was dominating the sky, and the whole city was visible even from afar. It was a beautiful sight, truly. But they needed not dwell on such contemplation—they had to find the main square, and fast.

Soon, they realized that not everything was precised in the note that joined the mysterious letter. Where exactly was located the plaza? Though the town was not that big, it was hard for tourists such as them to find their way. They unanimously decided that they would ask a townsperson. And precisely, there was a man standing at the corner of yet another street, though he didn’t seem very sympathetic. It would have to do. Layton would need much more to not act; he was not disturbed by the way people behaved (he always preferred to hold his tongue).

“Good evening, good sir,” Layton started, quite politely, as usual. “We are looking for the town square. Could you show us the way? I’m afraid we are expected out there.”

The curious individual could not hold back a laugh. “Hah! Well, good luck with that. You guys should see that you’re not the next ones on the list. In any case, you just have to turn left twice. Then it’ll be on your right.”

Layton smiled, not worrying about what the man had insinuated. “Thank you, sir. Have a nice evening.”

They could hear the man’s voice one more time before he left. “Oh well, tourists…” he muttered.

Luke wanted to counter his thoughts, but the professor didn’t allow him to say anything. It just wasn’t necessary. Luke still went on arguing that they weren’t tourists, and that people shouldn’t judge the others so easily—no matter how right he was, people like the man they had just met weren’t worth losing one’s time with.

The directions being correct, they soon reached the plaza. They were shocked to see that many people was still out there, despite the threats that seemed to be known. Were people that reckless? Still, the fact that the previous man had warned them about it proved Layton’s intuition to be right—he had done the right thing by trusting that anonymous sender.

Soon, their anonymity was no more. Luke noticed a woman, blonde-haired, running towards them.

“Professor, look behind you! I think we’ve just been found,” he said, unable to hide the unease filling his voice as well as his heart.

There was no room for doubt. It was indeed she who had been writing the letter—the look in her eyes said more than a thousand words. Although he didn’t know what would happen next, Layton was still satisfied with that outcome—he couldn’t very well have found a person he had never heard of amongst all the people standing on the main square.

The woman looked beautiful, with her hair reaching the middle of her back. Layton couldn’t say he had already seen here somewhere—she was indeed a mysterious person. Did she truly want him to help her solve the mystery tormenting her city, or was she waiting for something else? All that was left for the professor was to ask her, now that she finally stood before them. But as soon as she reached them, however, everyone around him went silent. Then, there were cries, terror. People started running towards different directions.

Amidst all this chaos however, a voice rose. “I…suppose you’re Professor Layton,” the woman puffed. “You…you both need to come with me, right now. It’s not safe…we should not stay here…!”

Layton and Luke had little time to understand what was going on. They couldn’t argue, anyway. They were dragged towards a safe space, further away from the plaza but still not that far, since they could still have a look on what was happening a few meters away.

As soon as they were safe, everyone stopped to take a deep breath. That was then that the mysterious feeling which had been plaguing the professor for the past few days started to wake once more inside him. Who was this woman? Looking at her eyes just worsened the situation. It was almost as if…

She reminded him of someone. Or did she? He was unsure. Perhaps his own thoughts had started to drive him mad. Still, that uneasiness was becoming unbearable. Enough. Layton decided that he would force answers out of her, even if it meant that he had to seem more severe than he usually was.

“That’s enough, young lady. Will you finally tell me who you are, and what is truly happening here?”

His sudden outburst shook both the persons standing there, in the odd basement where the young woman had led them.

She, however, stayed calm. She couldn’t lose her cool—not now. But she still saved time. “I will tell you all about that in a moment. But why should my name matter? What’s necessary is why you’ve come here, and I’ve told you already,” she retorted, much to everyone’s surprise.

After a few moments, everyone had caught their breath. They were finally ready to talk about the situation in Ashburg.

The woman started talking. “I led you both here because I know we’ll be safe. No one will hear us as well, and that was my goal all along. I had to take precautions.”

“I’m listening,” said the professor.

“Do you understand what you’ve just seen?”

Layton was indeed puzzled. “I am afraid I don’t—you said that people were too afraid to go out at night,” the professor insisted. “Then why wasn’t the plaza empty tonight?”

“Well, that’s–”

Layton wasn’t in the mood for games. “Listen. I don’t know what your true purpose for bringing us here is, but I advise you to tell me right now. If you truly do want me to help, you have to tell me the whole truth. Otherwise, I cannot do much.”

She was taken aback. She truly couldn’t hide anything from him. And could she truly blame him?

“I… I understand,” she finally admitted. “I’ll tell you everything from the very beginning.”

“It all started one, or two months ago. A group of scientists came in Ashburg, and then, they all slowly disappeared. At first, two of them were missing. A week later, we couldn’t find any of them,” she stopped talking, sadness in her voice. She looked down. “Every time it was the same. There was agitation on the plaza sometime after the sun set, and then, someone was gone. People…people never noticed anything. But even though this happens…some keep on going out. It's as if they're too curious, or they don't realize how dangerous it all is. The police are clueless.”

“This is awful,” commented Luke. “And no one has ever seen the abductor’s face?”

“No. Strangely enough, as soon as it happens, no one looks in the correct direction. Perhaps they’re creating a diversion. People are too frightened. Well, people are fragile—they are human beings, after all,” she sniffed. “We can’t blame them. The abductor probably takes advantage of human nature.”

Layton adjusted his top hat. “Do we know where the scientists are held?”

“We don’t. And they aren’t the only ones. After the group of scientists was abducted, tourists were soon to follow.” The woman seemed to be lost in thought for a minute. “What’s strange as well is that very few people hear—or understand—what happens. The newspapers mentioned it the first week, but now, they overlook everything related to this matter. It’s curious, to say the least.”

The woman had answered to many questions, but still, the professor wasn’t satisfied. In fact, he felt that she had been quite sparing with information. She has to be withholding some more information that could be crucial to us. But how can I have her say more? She’s already fulfilled what duty she thought she had. Hershel Layton decided to hold back his last interrogations. They would have to wait until the following day, at least. He didn’t want to her to feel compelled; he didn’t want her to understand that he was suspicious of her, of what she had to hide. Maybe it’d be a huge mistake. What if she fled? But perhaps his face revealed too much about his state of mind. People were used to say that he was an open book.

After a while, the same kind voice rose. “Now, you know everything I know. I can’t say more.” The professor thought that, indeed, one more time, he’d been laid bare before someone he barely knew. “Please, help me. There’s no one else here who can do it. You’re the only one who can save our city and see through this atrocious mystery,” she implored.

Layton took the letter bearing no sender out of his pocket, and agitated it before her. “You knew I was going to come right away if you were to sent that letter to me. You have indeed piqued my curiosity. I’ll help you,” he crossed his arms. “But now, tell us who you are.”

“My name is Aurelia. I have been living here for a few years now. I’m a writer. I guess this is all I have to say about me,” she could not hold back a soft laugh. She didn’t believe anything about her could be of interest to them.

Luke waved his arms, “And I’m Luke Triton! The professor’s apprentice.”

Aurelia smiled. “I’m sure we’ll make a good team.”

The professor only nodded. He managed to smile as well, but it soon faded. Some minutes later, they were all out of the basement. When Layton departed with Luke to find some place to sleep for the nights to come, he still had Aurelia in his mind. She was as mysterious as he’d anticipated. The woman seemed to know a lot about what was happening in her city, but when the subject switched to her, she always fell silent. Layton had a resolution: he’d discover what was in her mind. Perhaps there was something he couldn’t comprehend, something that clouded her judgment. Maybe she had to be saved as well?

Struggles. Cries. Pain. There was that pain, once more. It had been inside her for so long that she even doubted she’d once lived without it . Pain was her only companion—a rather original companion. But at least, it was faithful. It was here as a constant reminder. But why? Why did she have to lead such a life?

It had been years, now. Yet she still didn’t quite grasp why it was so. Everything was just so…dark…forgotten?

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

She Who Suffered

Nightmares. Pain. Again. But she would lie if she admitted that she was used to living with it. No one can ever get used to this sort of pain, to such nothingness.

Perhaps one day, she’d understand. And then, everything would change.

Layton did not change his mind. Though he had spent a restless night, he’d made good use of the time when he was awake; he had to confront Aurelia, no matter how. It was just a matter of when. He still didn’t have enough information to go and tell her all about his doubts; first, he had to gather everything he could regarding the situation of the city. But who could help him? For now, he had little clue about this. No one seemed to be aware of what was going on, and, as the girl had said, the newspapers were covering it up. That morning was no different. Layton, after a short inquiry, had been able to get a hold of that day’s newspaper. Though someone had been abducted just the other night, nothing mentioned it. There wasn’t any sign of evidence left. He had considered investigating the plaza, but he doubted it’d be helpful. If someone had found something of significance, surely they’d have gone to the police right away, and then there would have been some change.

The professor looked by the window of his hotel room, which was located just near the plaza, but nothing seemed to be going on. Some villagers were out shopping goods, talking with each other, but there was nothing else. Layton almost thought that everything had been a hallucination of sorts, but then Luke came out to greet him, and it reminded him that all was real.

“Professor! You’re already ready to go?” Luke’s smile faded when he came face to face with the older man, who looked like he could go out to investigate any minute. He, on the other hand, wasn’t dressed at all, still in his pajamas. “I hope you weren’t waiting for me…”

Hershel Layton walked towards him, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my boy. I still have to figure out what we’re going to do next, but I’d like to be out early.”

Luke didn’t need to be asked twice. “Then I’ll just go and get dressed!” An excited voice came out of the other room shortly after. "I’ll be back before you know it!”

To kill what little time he had to wait before Luke would come back, Layton got back near his window, and got lost in thought again. If she doesn’t want to tell us the whole truth, we’ll just have to make sure we find it out ourselves. His plan was simple, but he wasn’t sure it could work out easily. First, he’d have to confront Aurelia’s information with that of the others, if they had indeed something to say. Perhaps the two versions of events could be different, and it’d lead them another way. And if it was successful, they’d follow that lead and inquire about Aurelia. Ashburg was a small city—no doubt that anyone who’d lived here for a while would know about her, and possibly even share their knowledge with them. It looked like a good start for an investigation which promised to last.

When Layton started packing some of the things he’d let lying around, Luke stormed out in the room, pleased with how fast he’d been able to get ready. After five more minutes, they both decided it was time to leave the hotel. Soon, they were outside, their faces bathed in the sunlight.

Luke happily walked by Layton’s side. “So, where should we begin, Professor? Should we try to find Aurelia and investigate with her?”

“No. First, I want us to conduct our own investigation. We’ll start by asking someone. Maybe we will find a new lead.”

“Do you really suspect Aurelia, Professor? I mean, she looked suspicious at first, but…I believe she wanted to see if she could trust us.”

Layton didn’t want to share too much of his thoughts with his apprentice for the moment. “Hmm, perhaps. But let’s not waste too much time. It’s important that we try to make some progress before the sun sets.” Layton paused for a moment, and put a hand on his chin. “For all we know, another villager could be abducted tonight. If we ever happen to come across Aurelia in our search, we’ll let her know what we’ve found.”

“Okay, Professor!” Luke looked around him and noticed an elderly woman, standing near their hotel. “Look, there’s someone who could maybe help us. Let’s go ask her.”

The professor smiled politely when he reached the woman. “Good morning, madam. I hope we aren’t bothering you, but we have some questions. Have you heard about the abductions that happened as of late in your city?”

“Me? Yeah, kinda. Well, to tell ya the whole truth, I could care less.”

The professor put a hand on the tip of his hat. He was starting to see a new pattern, in that city. People do enjoy to be rude, he thought.

“I see.” He had to manage to find something to go on, his smile struggling to stay on his lips. “Then perhaps you know of someone who can help us.”

“So that’s who you are!” the woman suddenly shouted, but then lowered her voice. “Y’all always trying to poke your nose in other people’s businesses. Well, I guess I can help, it’s not my problem anyway. Try speaking with that one couple who loves to do just the same thing as you do. The Cranstons. Their house’s just by the town hall, can’t miss it.”

As soon as she was done talking, she left without warning. Luke frowned, visibly upset by such a behavior. He crossed his arms. “What a rude woman!”

“You shouldn’t say such things about people, Luke,” said the professor, though he couldn’t blame his apprentice for saying out loud what he was not. “No matter if it’s true, it’s just not becoming of a gentleman.”

“Of course, Professor.”

“Well, shall we go look for the Cranstons?”

“I’m right behind you!”

And so the duo started walking towards the town hall. Just as the old woman had told them, the house was precisely unmistakable. It really stood out, amongst all the other houses, worn out by the age, with every single one of them looking like the previous one. But on the Crantons’, a massive amount of ivy was clinging to the façade of the house as if its like was at stake, granting it a certain charm; so, indeed, the professor and his apprentice couldn’t miss it. And their task was about to be facilitated: a friendly old man with a mustache seemed to be working outside the house. The professor couldn’t help but hope that, this time, the person greeting them would indeed be nice.

“Good day to you, sir,” Layton started. “My name is Hershel Layton. I teach archaeology in London. Does this house belong to the Cranstons?”

The man, startled at first by such an intrusion, quickly dropped his tools and welcomed them. “Hello and welcome in Ashburg. I suppose you’re tourists. I own this house, and my name’s Donald. If you’ve come here to seek information regarding the abductions, you’ve come at the right place, I guess.”

The professor deplored that he was referred to as a tourist, but there was very little he could do against it. It wasn’t wrong, either; Luke and him weren’t police officers.

“Indeed, we have. I’m sorry to ask this of you—if the rumors about you are correct, I suppose you’ve seen many people around asking for the same thing, but your help would be very appreciated. We are here to conduct an investigation on what happens in your city.”

The old man looked at them both with weary eyes. “Strange events are happening here, as you may already know. I’m not sure I can be much help, though.” He paused. Every line on his face hinted at how much the situation looked complex to him. “I don’t know who abducted these people. All I know is that…sometimes, at night, there’s agitation by the forest west of Ashburg. Apparently, strange people can be heard out there. But to tell you the truth, no one in town ever dares going that far. It’s frightening, people say.”

The professor looked deep in thought. Once again, he had his hand on his chin. “That’s very enlightening.” He then proceeded to straighten his hat. “Is that all you know?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I only know what my wife tells me, and that’s about everything—“ Donald suddenly remembered something else, and raised his finger, as if to say ‘Wait, I have a lot more to say’. “No, she actually also told me about people being imprisoned in a basement. It seems that it’s impossible to reach. But, then again, that’s just rumors.” The man looked intently at them. “You look like the adventurer type. Maybe you can go find out. In fact, for the sake of our city, we’d really much like someone like you would put an end to those petty crimes.”

“Thank you for your trust, Donald. We will do whatever is in our power to find out more about the criminals.”

“Then I’ll wish the both of you luck.”

As soon as they left that street, Layton and Luke shared a look.

“Professor…” Luke started, worries written all over his face. “Do you think the basement Donald told us about is the one where Aurelia took us? And do you think we’ve made some progress? It’s still pretty vague, and if no one ever goes by that forest, who’s to say what we’ve learned is true?”

Obviously, questions were racing in the young boy’s head. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Layton was worried, as well. But it was not because he was unsure whether this information was true or not; he actually feared Luke would get captured by these criminals the moment they’d decide to investigate further. He did not let it show, however. And they had to investigate. He’d eventually find a way to put Luke out of harm’s way.

“I don’t think it would be wise to doubt what we’ve learned,” Layton argued, after a moment. “On the contrary, we should keep pressing on, and try finding the forest Donald mentioned. We will surely find a spot from where we can spy on whatever is going on out there.” The professor crossed his arms and looked at Luke. “Moreover, though there shouldn’t be many basements in Ashburg, I don’t believe the one where Aurelia led us to is the one they use to commit their crimes. If it were, we’d have heard people speak, or move, at the very least.”

Once more, the professor had been thinking too far ahead for the young boy to counter his theories. “You’re probably right, Professor,” he conceded.

“Now, I believe we should find Aurelia. The information we’ve gathered so far is consistent with what she told us. Perhaps, this time, she’ll have something more to help us.”

Layton emphasized that last point, which didn’t pass past Luke. He couldn’t blame the professor for having doubts on her honesty; he had to admit that her behavior had given way to doubts.

Luke frowned, looking all around him. “But, Professor, we don’t know where to find her. Where should we even start?”

“Let’s look around the city. We’re bound to meet her.”

She was watching them from afar. They were determined to lead this investigation without her. She couldn’t blame them, though. But she had to act early if she didn’t want them to find out something before she even thought of giving it away.

Aurelia was soon to be found. Moments later, the duo noticed a blonde-haired woman heading straight towards them.

“Good morning, Aurelia,” started Layton, as soon as she approached. “We were precisely looking for you. I’m glad it turned out this way; we have no time to waste.”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Layton. I was actually passing by,” she lied. “What can I help you with?”

“I have learned many things today. A man told us about the victims being held in a mysterious basement, away from the city, making it hard to find. Perhaps you know something about it?”

“I… Actually, yes.”

With a serious look on his face, Layton crossed his arms, and waited for her to keep going. But there was silence. Nothing more than silence and the singing of the birds. However, the moment when the professor believed the situation to be odd, Aurelia finally spoke up again.

“People are indeed held captive in a basement near Ashburg. That much I’m sure of.”

“Thank you, Aurelia. You’ve just proved my theory to be correct.”

Aurelia looked dumbfounded. Luke as well. The professor, however, looked like he had figured everything out, much to his habit.

“I’m sorry?”

“You said that the basement is not in Ashburg, is that correct?”

“Well, yes, I said that, but-”

Layton interrupted and started walking in circles, in the middle of the street. “I have just mentioned it, but the man from earlier did not. You, however, my dear, haven’t denied it. You never said anything of the sort to us before, so, I ask of you,” the professor stopped in his tracks and faced Aurelia, “how did you know?”

For a moment, Aurelia stayed silent. Crap, she thought, I should have been more careful. But it was near impossible to deny anything, now. The professor wasn’t to be underestimated; his deductions and his tactics had always paid off. The engine had started. The young woman had to keep it going—surely it was bound to happen.

However, Layton still had something to say. “Last night, immediately after we went our separate ways, I noticed a small, hidden path by the basement,” he resumed. “I didn’t investigate it further, but it seemed to lead out of Ashburg, towards a forest. I couldn’t help but think it was relevant to the case at hand.”

“You were right. Allow me to take it from here.” Aurelia sighed. She leaned against the wall of a building and looked down. “I have been held captive for days.”

Luke exclaimed, “What? Are you kidding?”

“I wish I was. It’s the truth.” She looked up at them, tears filling the corner of her eyes. Obviously, she wasn’t comfortable with revealing what had happened. “It… It was terrible.”

“I understand your feelings,” admitted Layton, who had calmed down. What he’d just heard wasn’t what he expected to. He was clearly taken aback. “But you have to be aware that any information is crucial if we want to put a halt to what’s happening here. You implored me to help you. Then, now, I implore you to share what you’ve been through with us. It could perhaps ease your pain, even if a little.”

Aurelia looked relieved. For the first time, she could look at the professor with different eyes. He didn’t seem that intimidating (and dangerous) anymore. And everything he’d just said was true—maybe it was their presence she needed to go on.

She however couldn’t fight back easily the tears. “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t do anything—even crying had become unbearable. I couldn’t see anything, I was completely locked up, kept out from the whole word. There was nothing to help me understand. I was hurt everywhere; mentally, I couldn’t stand this reality, and physically, my whole body ached. It was torture. There’s no other word to describe what I went through, I…” she paused, overwhelmed with images from a past she hadn’t realized she still remembered so precisely. Her breathing was erratic. “I don’t remember much about what happened, truly. Save from the pain. I just… There was those voices, those threats, those noises. I didn’t understand where it came from. I was too focused on my pain. But what happened where I was was no little deal. I don’t know who abducted me, nor what they looked like. But there’s something dangerous out there, a truth darker than anyone expects it to be.”

Both Layton and Luke were captivated by such a tale. They didn’t expect anything of the sort—clearly, it was a tragic story, and one that, in itself, demonstrated how important it was to find a lead. They couldn’t afford to lose time. Who knew how many people were being held and suffered the same pain as Aurelia had? Layton found himself completely shaken up. He had spent two days doubting a young woman who, obviously, had been through more pain than anyone should ever have to. But he couldn’t let his guilt show now.

“Do you know what they were looking for by abducting you? And how you managed to break free safely?” Layton inquired.

“I’m afraid I don’t. I remember nothing—just distant voices, images, and the pain. I just know that one day, I found myself out in the woods. I was so scared. From that day on, I feared that anyone could hold me hostage once more if I didn’t pay attention to everything and everyone around me. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you who I was right away, even with that letter addressed to you.” She looked up at him, guilt and pain filling her eyes, her cheeks still wet from the tears who’d fallen. “I always believe someone’s going to harm me again, using people I trust to get to me.”

“You should have told us that from the start.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Layton. I promise I won’t hold anything back now.” She couldn’t find anything more to say. No matter how much the professor was right, it was still painful. A part of her wanted to believe that he cared for her pain, but that he was too invested in the investigation to let it show.

And as if he’d read her thoughts, he added, “You should go home and take a much needed rest. We can perhaps meet again tomorrow to investigate together, now that this is out of the way. There’s no reason for me to be suspicious anymore. I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” Hershel Layton finally admitted.

Aurelia was silent for a moment. The professor’s kind words were such a relief to hear; she even considered wrapping her arms around him without warning to show her gratitude, but she did no such thing. No words could describe how grateful she was for what he just did.

The young woman managed to smile. “I can’t thank you enough. Please take care of yourselves, you too.” She came closer and gave Layton a piece of paper. “Here’s some info if you ever need to come in contact with me. It’ll make our meetings easier.”

Soon after she’d waved her hand to say goodbye, Aurelia disappeared in the horizon. Once more, there was silence filling the air. But this time, no more doubts, no more suspicions, no more fear. Only shock and worry remained. After a moment, Layton and Luke agreed to go look for a place where they could eat and review the situation; it was much needed.

No pride. No relief. Everything she thought she’d be feeling after such a revelation was nowhere in sight. She was still empty, consumed by the pain and the loneliness.

But no matter what she believed, her story—their story—was about to take another turn. It probably wouldn’t be for the best...once more.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

The Fear In Our Minds

Luke inquired, “So, Professor, what do you think about Aurelia?"

What did he think about her, indeed? He had been right to doubt her, but now that she had finally revealed what secrets she was withholding from them, he felt that his suspicions did nothing else but weaken her even more. But he couldn’t let a feeling of guilt him tear him apart—he had to think about the investigation. They still had a lot to achieve.

Layton looked at his apprentice. “It’s complicated, my boy. I still cannot wrap my mind around what we’ve just learned. She is a...complex character.”

“Do you believe what she’s just told us about her captivity is true?”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. There’s just one thing I don’t understand.” The professor paused for a moment, looking deep in thought. “I can’t shake the feeling that her behavior is odd. It’s as if she always has something else to attend to, something she doesn’t want us to learn about. She looks...preoccupied, to say the least.” The gentleman crossed his arms, as a new idea emerged inside his head, but he chose to keep it to himself for now.

They were sitting in the middle of a crowded restaurant, and everything looked normal. Too normal, even; the professor felt that something was about to happen, but he didn’t share these thoughts with Luke this time. Instead, he chose to direct their conversation another way—there were other ideas that were disturbing him, and he could use Luke’s assistance on that matter.

“Have you heard about what happened around the Infinite Vault, when we left Monte d’Or?"

“Well…” Luke took his blue notebook out of his pocket, and started reading through some notes. He suddenly blurted out, “Oh, yes, I remember! Some criminals took possession of that ruin a few months ago, didn’t they? My dad mentioned them recently, and I read about it in the newspapers.”

“Exactly. We know very little about them, but it is unmistakable that they’re willing to discover the secrets of the Azran, at any cost. Their methods do seem to be…quite unorthodox.”

Luke frowned, “But Professor, what’s that have to do with Ashburg?”

Layton put a hand on his chin. “I’m not sure yet, Luke. But I have always believed that there would be more here than meets the eye, so I’ll say it’s not impossible that these men could be involved here as well. However, it’s hard to imagine what they could do, or even what they look like. We should use additional caution when we’re investigating the town and its surroundings.”

“I agree, Professor!” Luke seemed distraught. “I just hope they aren’t the ones who are behind all this, though...I’m sure it’d be extremely dangerous to cross their path.”

“We will learn about it, eventually.”

The young boy looked away from the professor, but there was sadness written all over his face when he spoke up again. “I wish Emmy didn’t leave us. She annoyed me sometimes, but I was always happy to have her around. No matter what could happen, I knew she’d be here to defend us,” recalled Luke. He had a very specific event in mind: when, in Misthallery, three men sent by Jakes suddenly cornered them. If it wasn’t for Emmy, that day, who knows where their investigation would have ended. “Now, I feel like we’re left on our own.”

“I understand your feelings, my boy. But you know how much it meant to her—and I’m sure we’ll be fine even if she’s far away now.”

In truth, Layton himself was still shaken up by his ex-assistant’s sudden departure. She seemed so bent on helping him unravel the truth in all his cases that he didn’t imagine she would show the same excitement when it was time for her to leave. She’d been offered a job she didn’t want to refuse—she would become a journalist and travel around the world, something she’d always dreamed to do. Their separation had been quite painful precisely because it was abrupt. But they promised they would always remember the times they’d spent together, even though it had lasted only two years. They were still in touch, as well; Emmy had sent a letter to Layton some weeks ago, in which she seemed eager to learn about the professor’s current adventures. He decided he would tell her all about what was happening in Ashburg—but to be able to do it, he first needed to find out what was at stake here.

At this very moment, strange noises could be heard outside the restaurant; people started to panic, and Layton noticed the same scene than the day before. So it was happening again. But this time, he had to act, somehow: he could never find a clue otherwise. There was no time for him to think—he needed to go outside, quick, no matter what could become of him if he ever had to be caught and taken away by whoever was behind this.

Luke quickly understood what Hershel Layton was about to do. “I’ll accompany you, Professor!”

He put a hand on the little boy’s frail shoulder. “Luke. Please, stay here. I can’t put you in danger.”

“But, Professor, I’m your apprentice, and I—”

Outside, there was even more commotion than before. They had no time to argue. “Fine, follow me. But be cautious.”

The two quickly stormed out of the restaurant, but didn’t quite understand where they needed to look. So Aurelia was right: somehow, the conspirator of these abductions was creating a diversion so nobody would be able to see them, nor what means they were using to accomplish their evil deeds. At some point, however, the professor thought he saw somebody—it was quick and unclear; shady, even. But it was the only clue he had: a shadow running away in the night, towards the forest. He wanted to give chase, but he had to admit that he was not in the mood for unnecessary running. He felt quite fatigued, perhaps even crushed under the weight of the investigation and the constant suspicions he had. Still, that shadow troubled him. It felt like he knew them in some way, but he couldn’t put his finger on who it could be. It was almost as if… no, it couldn’t be.

He was pulled out of his reverie by his apprentice’s voice. “Professor, we have to follow that person, or they’ll get away!”

The professor felt dizzy for a moment. He didn’t think Luke had noticed the shadow as well. “Whoever should we follow, my boy?” was all he managed to reply.

Luke frowned and crossed his arms, looking fiercely at the older man. “Well, that person who just escaped the plaza! Didn’t you see them?”

Luke clearly seems more... lively than I am tonight, the professor thought. “I did see them. I just figured that it wouldn’t be of use to go after them for now.”

Yet another lie. Indeed, he didn’t want to give chase; but still, in truth, it wouldn’t have been impossible to catch them, and if they’d failed, surely they’d have found something conclusive in the woods. There had to be something hidden there. It was almost as if…Layton didn’t want to learn about that secret. He didn’t know what to think anymore. Perhaps he wasn’t even up to the task Aurelia had given him? But no, he could not break her trust and her hopes. It wouldn’t be becoming of a gentleman, would it?

Whatever his thoughts were at the moment, looking at his apprentice didn’t relieve him from his doubts about his own abilities. The young boy indeed noticed, once more, that something was wrong. He just didn’t dare voice his concern. Not yet, at the very least. Still, Hershel Layton wasn’t capable anymore of hiding his feelings, not even in front of a twelve-year-old boy. If even Luke could feel there was something amiss, what would the others say? And what about Luke? Would he still wish to solve mysteries with the professor when he himself didn’t show any determination to?

Too many thoughts were racing in his mind. He needed to be alone to clarify the situation they were in, and maybe clarify his own troubles as well. Regardless, Layton managed to smile and waved at Luke. “We should go back to our hotel.”

Still hesitant, the boy nodded anyway. “Okay, Professor.”

Moments later, they arrived at the hotel’s front desk. An old woman was there and greeted them politely. Layton did the same. “Good evening, Elizabeth.”

“Good evening, you two! Is your investigation going well?”

Of course, she hadn’t forgotten. Ashburg was a small town, and the professor had explained to her what they were doing there the day before, when they were looking for a room to sleep in, still troubled by Aurelia’s behavior and what they’d just witnessed alongside her. Still, that evening was no better. The same doubts invaded their minds, and it felt like they’d never get rid of them.

The professor didn’t say a word about this, however. He straightened his hat before answering, “Well, we’re doing what we can to make sure we’ll soon uncover the truth.”

“I wish you all the best with this attempt,” Elizabeth kindly replied. “But please…” she resumed, quietly speaking, “I’d like to know what is going on here. So if you could inform me on whatever you find…”

“We’ll be sure to do just that. Have a nice evening.” Layton smiled at the old woman and left for his room.

As soon as they reached their bedroom, Layton sat a little table near the window and put a hand on his chin. Again, he was speaking aloud without even noticing it. “Tomorrow, I’ll like to go pay a visit to the city hall to find out more on Aurelia. We shouldn’t waste any more time.”

When Luke replied, he had to hide his surprise. “So you do suspect her, Professor!”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I’d like to conduct another investigation. It could be useful to learn more about her, because I think I’m right to believe that there are things she won’t be willingly telling us.”

“It’s a small town,” acknowledged Luke, “so I’m sure everyone here knows each other somehow. I’ll accompany you, Professor!”

“Gladly, my boy.”

An hour later, Hershel Layton was sleeping, but his torments hadn’t left him. He was destined to live with them a few more days.

Will Layton learn the truth, eventually? There was no doubt he would. But when it would happen, what would become of them all? Would something change, and would it be for better or for worse? She couldn’t dare thinking about the future. She had always tried to keep her mind in the present to forget her contempt for her past as well as her fear for the future. She often thought that everything would be simpler if she only could stop thinking, forever.

Lately, though, all she’d done was thinking. Sure, she usually spent a lot of time doing that—she even believed all that time was being wasted —but since Layton had arrived in Ashburg, it had been blown out of proportion. Hershel Layton...would he be a savior, or her curse? Perhaps it wasn’t too late yet. Perhaps she could choose what he would be; the choice was hers, and hers alone. No matter what she’d decide to do, however, he would discover everything. And then his life would change. By having him come to Ashburg, she simply rushed the process.

Aurelia didn’t know which path to take. Her mind was constantly torn between the future that was to come and the past; a past she didn’t yet remember precisely . There were people...many people, all dressed up in strange outfits...people that had dark ambitions. Yes, they were getting ready to achieve some kind of goal. At least, that was what she could hear...but she didn’t understand where it came from. Was it happening now? Had it happened before? Was it even real? She didn’t know where to look anymore, what to believe, who she was . If anything, she was losing her mind.

“Give me what we want, and we won’t harm the little boy. Give it now.”

“You know very well that I can’t! I don’t have it, and I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” answered a man who was chained to a wall, pain written all over his face.

“Give me what we want, and we won’t harm the little boy.”

“I cannot!”

“Give me what we want… Give me what we want…”

He closed his eyes and yelled as hard as he could. Anything to get out of this hell.

Then, for a second, there was nothing left.

Hershel Layton woke up with a start. He was drenched in a cold sweat and his breathing was erratic. For a moment, he couldn’t make anything out of his surroundings. Then, everything came back to him—he was in his hotel room, in Ashburg. He could hear Luke’s calm breathing from the other side of the room. Everything was okay, then. Luke hadn’t been held captive, and he himself hadn’t been tortured by strange-looking men he hadn’t even encountered before in his life.

The professor didn’t know what to make of this dream. It was a mix between what he feared the most, what Aurelia had told them, and what he’d been thinking about recently. His only hope was that it wouldn’t become a premonition.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep again. It was only four in the morning, though—so he decided to make good use of this insomnia: he tried to clear his head. But for it to work, he first had to focus on everything which was disturbing him at the moment. First, there was Ashburg, Aurelia, and all these people who were abducted while no one noticed anything. Who was telling the truth? Could everyone be in cahoots with the mastermind, or the masterminds, if there happened to be many of them?

Second—last, but not least—there were all these struggles he'd had to face lately. What happened in Monte d’Or still disturbed him. Randall had had to spend some months in prison for having tried to eradicate a whole city, and Hershel would visit him quite often (perhaps too often). No matter what they’d all been through, it wasn’t simple to reminisce, nor was it to forget the past, these eighteen years of nothingness. He felt like there was some breach between them, a space that could never be erased. Randall was his best friend, but he had done horrible things. He’d been manipulated all along by Descole, but still, he’d shown no remorse whatsoever when Monte d’Or was about to fall down. Layton wanted to forgive him—he already had—but it was too hard to just forget. Eighteen years during which he thought he’d caused his best friend’s death—and he would have, if it hadn’t been for that river—and eighteen years during which he constantly fought against intrusive memories and feelings. Layton’s struggles weren’t new, then, but they were different. How does one suddenly get used to the return of someone (a criminal, almost) he’d lost two decades ago?

There was also his intuition. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something, something that was about to awake again. Sometimes, he had flashes of a life he didn’t understand, and then everything faded away anew, so he’d end up wondering what just happened inside his tortured mind. Since his arrival in Ashburg, those memories—or whatever they were—were even more persistent, but they made even less sense. When he realized he still hadn’t figured out the answer to any of this, Luke was standing beside him. He’d spent the last four hours standing by his window, thinking. Still, they decided it was time to get dressed; thirty minutes later, Luke and Layton were following the direction of the city hall, that was just across their hotel.

When they opened the door to this new place, they were both surprised to see Inspector Grosky standing there.

“Layton!” yelled the policeman, who immediately rushed towards them. “I was sure I’d find you here.”

“Inspector Grosky! What a surprise,” replied the professor. “What brings you here?”

“I was told you’d left London to conduct another investigation, and it just happened to catch my interest as well. That’s why I wanted to offer you Scotland Yard’s assistance.”

“Why, that’s very kind of you. I may very well need it, actually.” The professor looked over to the employees who were sitting behind the front desk. He readjusted his hat, ready to expose them his request. “Good day to you. I’m conducting an investigation in your city and I’m currently looking for information.”

A lively woman responded, “Welcome in Ashburg! We’ll help you in any way we can. Anything to get this atrocious mystery solved…”

“Thank you.” Layton paused. “Do you know something about a young woman named Aurelia? She has blonde hair, and I seem to remember that she’s a writer.”

“Oh, of course we know her! She’s quite involved here, in Ashburg. She always does her best trying to help us.”

Layton could not hide his surprise. He didn’t believe such a private woman could be such a celebrity, so to speak. But he had to carry on with his request. “It may come as a surprise to you, Madam, but I’d like to have a look at her birth certificate.”

The woman frowned. “Her birth certificate? What for, if I dare ask? That’s quite unusual.”

“I…can’t tell you for now. But I assure you that as soon as I get the information I need, I’ll explain everything to you. And this could help me in finding the truth.”

Grosky joined the discussion and corroborated Layton’s words, his loud voice echoing in the city hall. “I’ve known his man for more than ten years, now. You can trust him.”

The employee nodded. “Well, in any case, it looks like it’s really important to you… and to us, as well, I’d say. But sadly, I can’t help you, because Aurelia wasn’t born here. We hold no official papers about her. We do know, however, that she’s from London.”

“I believe I can be of help here,” added the inspector. “I’m going to get back to the Yard. It’s highly possible that I find something of interest there. I’ll be back before you know it!”

Layton blinked, and as per usual, Grosky was already gone, yelling about his duty towards the Yard. At least, the investigation may take a turn for the interesting as soon as he gets back. The professor did not really know what he was looking for, or even what he was expecting to find, but he would soon get to know.

Six hours had passed. Layton had killed them by questioning people here and there in Ashburg about Aurelia. Everyone had said the same things: she was indeed involved in the city, always trying her best to help those around her, though she sometimes was secretive. Nothing seemed to prove he was right to be doubting her. Was it leading to a dead-end?

The sun was setting when he noticed Grosky, who was running towards him and his apprentice. He held a paper in his hand, which relieved the professor from his worries; at least, the inspector’s search hadn’t been for naught. But would the paper bring him some answers?

“Layton!” Grosky stopped abruptly in front of them. “It wasn’t easy to find something about her, but it was successful! Quite a mystery, this girl, if you ask me. And without a family name…” the inspector handed Layton the piece of paper. “I still managed to find something, but there was nothing under the name Aurelia. I don’t know if it’ll help you with your search, but that’s the only thing which matches what we know about the girl. Perhaps you’ll understand what that means.”

Layton felt uneasy; the same dizziness than the day before struck him. “Thank you very much, Inspector Grosky.”

Luke tried to look at the file at the same time Layton started reading it, but he wasn’t able to—the professor wanted to keep his findings to himself for now. When the words appeared in front of his eyes, he entered the same state he’d been in a few times as of late. Of course, he had heard about the name which was written before his eyes. It even looked very familiar, though he didn’t yet understand why. He tried blinking, then closing his eyes so he could remember precisely what the name was linked to, but nothing worth anything came up. Solely nothingness and doubts that were amplified.

Immersed in his reading and in his thoughts, he did not notice that they were being spied on.

Of course she knew what he was reading. From where she was, it was only a piece of paper he was holding, and yet she could guess what had to be written on it by the looks on his face. Whatever it was precisely about, at least she was certain that it said something about her.

Something that had shaken him up enough to break the trust between them, a s well as something which would impact her plans.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Abducted

There was no way she could stay any moment longer in Ashburg after having witnessed that. Not when Hershel Layton was about to request for her presence...not when any minute spent with him and Luke could put her plans in danger.

She didn’t want to know what the paper Layton had been holding onto was about. There was no point in learning that anyway; she couldn’t be wasting time on such mundane things. So she decided to run away. It would be suspicious, indeed, but she could get away with that somehow. At least, that was what she wanted to believe.

In fact, Aurelia wasn’t able to think straight anymore. So many events, so many fears, so many doubts were rushing inside her head—what if Layton was still able to catch her? What if they were to become suspicious of her sudden and unannounced absence, as well? And why did it hurt so much again ? So many questions, so little answers. In a few days from now, she’d have to explain w hat was happening right now. Yet, there was no answer whatsoever she could provide them with—none they could accept.

No matter from what angle she looked at the situation, stalling seemed to be the most effective solution she could come up with. And perhaps she’d even be going back to Ashburg with a plan—another one!

The only place to flee to seemed to be a nearby town, a few miles away from Ashburg. It was located in the middle of the forest as well, but it’d have to do. Layton couldn’t think of finding her there. She didn’t own a car, nor was she holding a driving license—still, she was sure she could manage a walk in the forest, no matter how dark it would be. In a few hours, she’d be away, and she’d have time for herself. Some much needed time, though taking a rest was clearly out of the question.

And thus she started running.

When Aurelia reached her flat, she immediately started packing a bag. She threw inside it very few belongings, but important belongings nonetheless. Some dry clothes, her diary, and other useful possessions scattered all over her room. With that, I’ll be safe for three days, at least. Three days is a long time to come up with a satisfying explanatio n—it’ll have to do.

Now, it was completely dark outside. It was even easier for her to sneak out unnoticed. Good thing that Layton didn’t know where she lived, otherwise he’d already be there knocking on the door, asking for her motivations. And that was something she couldn’t deal with; not yet, at the very least. (Did she even know what her motivations actually were? She’d spent too much wondering that without reaching a conclusive answer.)

At some point, she found herself walking—running—safely inside the forest, without even realizing it. Seconds, probably even minutes, had passed and she had no idea where they had gone. It was so dark that she was compelled to turn on the torch she’d brought along with her, because no matter how much she was familiar with this place, it was still very delicate to find one’s way inside it without getting lost two or three times. And getting lost meant losing time—something she couldn’t afford to be doing at the moment.

As she was walking deeper inside the forest, slowly becoming a shadow alongside other shadows, her thoughts started to wander off again The memory of a past she still didn’t recognize clearly kept on awaking, and the pain—that horrible pain—was still here, almost unbearable. If only she’d known where it was coming from, perhaps she’d be able to put a stop to it. Perhaps she’d be able to start anew, far from a life of never-ending suffering.

She had never really given much thought to what her life had been, but at the very least, she couldn’t say she’d led a happy one.

She didn’t remember a lick about her childhood. Next thing she knew, she was held hostage by strange men she wasn’t sure she remembered, and she’d grown up almost on her own, without any clear purpose. Almost nineteen years of life, yet nothing worth fighting for...at least, not really. She didn’t even have a family for whom to care anymore; so even if she decided to change, what good would that do? Would it make the pain disappear? Would her conscience be freed of its endless wretched thoughts? She would never know until she tried.

Crack. Nothing to worry about.

When everything would be over, she’d tell Layton and his little friend what they had to know. And then they’d help her. Only then would she be able to start a new life—the new life she’d always been eager to find.

Crack. Nothing to worry-

Crack, crack, crack.

There was someone there—it couldn’t have been otherwise. There had to be someone there, or there wouldn’t be such noises...no, she had to be dreaming. It was probably a stray animal or something akin to that. There’s no need to be afraid—everything’s going to be fine—you’re going to reach that town safely, besides you’ve got your torch with you, and you know how to defend yourself, don’t you?

Don’t you?

Aurelia wasn’t easily frightened, but being on her own wasn’t always easy on her. At that moment, she remembered—again—the time she was kidnapped, driven away from everything she’d always known, to a far-out place where no one would hear her scream...she almost remembered the smell of these men, and the feel of heavy bodies against hers, pushing her forwards…

It seemed so real.

Almost too real.

...Until she realized it was indeed real.

She could only catch a glance of some vessel—or was it an airplane?—in the distance when a cloth tightly covered her mouth. No matter how she tried to scream, no sound was escaping out of her lips. No hope of freedom.

The warmth of a man grabbing her from behind sent shivers down her spine, until she fell unconscious, and her surroundings were no more.

So he was here. Once again, they’d probably have to fight over the secret of this town, no matter what it would be. But what was a single fight in a life full of despair? He was so close—so close from discovering everything he’d always been fighting for. Layton wouldn’t be too much of a nuisance in his plans—sure, he’d twice gotten in his way already, but he still uncovered what he’d been here for in the end. And that was the only thing that ever mattered to him.

It had been so easy, months before, in Monte d’Or. Using Randall had been the perfect opportunity for him to act freely and unnoticed; something he’d always dreamed of, and something which would’ve been rewarded as it should have...if it hadn’t been for Targent. Facing off against Hershel Layton was fun—oh, how he’d loved to see his puzzled look when he’d revealed that he had actually done his work for him—, but being confronted to Targent was a nightmare. He couldn’t very well outpower hundreds of men when all he had was three or four smoke bombs.

He’d had six months to plan his next strategy. This time, it’d have to work; he would surpass Targent in the most thrilling way he knew of. He’d uncover the Azran legacy before them, no matter what it would take. And it wouldn’t be Hershel Layton nor that girl, no matter who she was, that would stop him, this time.

He would win.

Carrying a blonde-haired woman on his back, Descole made his way back to the Bostonius, where Raymond was faithfully waiting for him. As soon as the old man noticed his master was here, he approached him, visibly distraught.

“Master,” he whispered, “you know this isn’t a wise decision to make.” Raymond had spent years trying to fight Descole’s bad habit of kidnapping people whenever something important related to the Azran had to be done. Still, he knew that wisdom wouldn’t change the man—not now that he’d become who he was—but he had to try regardless.

“Raymond, you know very well that I can’t sit by and watch as everything unfolds. No,” he argued, “I’m sure this girl has answers. And she’s going to give them to me, or else I’ll go find them myself.”

Raymond sighed. “Fine, Master, but be careful.”

“Always, Raymond.”

A dark room—machines, people dressed in strange suits, whispers around her...so it was happening again, was it?

Her whole body was shaking, and she felt a diffuse pain inside her head. Her vision was blurry. She was seemingly tied to a chair in the middle of a room she’d never seen before, and she had no idea how she even ended up here.

When she regained her spirits, she realized that there was no one around her, save from one masked man. It was happening again, but it wasn’t the same man—surely she would have known instantly otherwise (or that’s what she believed.) There were no machines, either. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her. Still, she had to ask...she had to be sure.

Aurelia looked sternly into the man’s eyes—or lack thereof, for that matter—trying not to lose her composure. “What do you want from me? Are you with them?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, young girl. My name is Jean Descole. I’m a humble scientist with...rather lofty goals.” How many times had he heard himself saying that? It brought a smile on his face. “I’m working alone.”

“What do I have to do with your goals?!” Aurelia spat to hide her insecurities. “You don’t have the right to hold me there! There are...there are things I need to do!”

“And that’s precisely why you’re here with me. Rumor has it, you’re trying to make someone’s life harder—not that I can blame you for it, he surely deserves it—but still, that won’t do.” The masked man seemed to have many things he wished to say, but none he decided to voice. “I want you to tell me what you’re trying to accomplish by lying to the man you’ve been endlessly asking help to.”

Aurelia feigned ignorance, but her voice was calmer. “I still don’t know what you’re on about.” That man, whoever he’s supposed to be, knows a lot more about the situation than he should.

For the first time since she’d woken up, they looked each other in the eye. For some reason, uneasiness filled the air—distrust, as well. Neither of them knew where it came from, so they decided it would be better to not say anything about it.

Aurelia couldn’t see Descole frowning—his mask was decidedly a blessing—when he looked inside her eyes. There was nothing specific to see…at least, that’s what he wanted to believe. But still, he found himself thinking that some answers could lie precisely in there. Yet, he only noticed sadness, fear, anger and...was it deceit?…hiding in these pale blue eyes.

On the other hand, Descole didn’t know that what he was looking at wasn’t the truth—not entirely, at least. He didn’t know what the young woman had been told two days before. Aurelia herself still couldn’t fathom why they ’d told her to wear blue lenses, ‘ just in case’. But she did it nonetheless—she couldn’t discuss orders.

No matter. The young girl would be too uncooperative; and so he decided there would be a change in his plans. Quicker than expected, he stormed out of the room—discomfort had started eating away at him—and wandered for a moment inside the Bostonius, before coming across Raymond.

“I have changed my mind. I need you to keep an eye on her while I go outside...investigating.”

Raymond blinked, and Descole was already out of sight. The old Scotsman knew full well what Descole was about to do, of course.

He’d go find his brother once more—but the man wouldn’t yet learn of the truth. He’d assume the guise of the woman that had refused to give him answers, and he’d learn those answers by himself if it was the last thing he’d do.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Among Us

Pretending to be someone he was not had always been one of Descole’s specialties. Deceiving people, controlling them so much that they’d end up certain of their surroundings, though in reality, everything was a lie. How could he fail such a mission? He’d done it more times than he could remember—and whenever he would assume the guise of someone else in front of Layton, the latter would never suspect anything during most of the time they investigated together. It had worked, back then, in Misthallery—at least, it had worked long enough so he could almost see his plan through. Months later, the game he’d played with Hershel and his team during that quest for eternal life had almost been a success as well. Finally, in Monte d’Or, he was mere inches from discovering everything all by himself—he’d almost done it (if Bronev hadn’t showed up to steal all the glory – but even him couldn’t blame Layton for that).

Three times. Three times he had been so close to winning and yet so far. Did Layton best him constantly because he was better than he could ever hope to be? Or was it simply bad luck? He hadn’t given it much thought—each time, he’d throw a tantrum in front of Raymond, just like any child would do, and then he’d move on to the next stage of his plan. In the end, it still unfolded the way it had to.

But this time, everything would have to change. He had learned from his previous mistakes. He would assume that girl’s role perfectly and he would bring his plan to its successful end. He just had to stay by Layton’s side and pretend to be a young woman expertly trying to manipulate him into something he still couldn’t clearly fathom. So he had to buy time. And buy time he would – Layton had little clues as well.

When he emerged out of the forest, he could spot Layton and Luke in the distance. Perfect timing , he thought. I only have to find a way for him to not suspect me because of my lurking here, and I’ll have to convince him to stay out the forest; at least far enough so he doesn’t notice the Bostonius.

Nothing he hadn’t done before.

Layton was still shaken deep to his core by the revelation he’d found in the official documents Grosky had brought him, the previous day. He still hadn’t shared his findings to Luke; whether it was because he felt something was wrong, or because he believed it wouldn’t be of any use to the young boy, he did not know. Luke had insisted a bit, of course—but soon enough, he’d understood Hershel wouldn’t change his mind so he simply gave up. The professor must have a good reason to act like he does, he thought. Actually, that’s what he’d been thinking for a while, ever since they left for Ashburg. Sometimes, he did not recognize the man he spent all his time with since more than one year. Hershel Layton was not the cheerful man he was before they went to Monte d’Or—of course, he was still very polite and a true puzzle lover, but apart from that, there was little else that remained. And there was no way a eleven-year-old could do anything against it.

Layton still had nightmares. They weren’t as stress-inducing as the one he’d done two moons ago, when Luke seemed to be abducted, but they didn’t ease the situation in which he found himself. That previous night, all kinds of images and fears had been mixed up before his eyes: the information he’d gathered by reading the paper about Aurelia, the sadness he felt deep within his soul, the fear that any kind of mishap may occur in Ashburg, the uncertainty of where his investigation was headed. Being unable to move forward with that same investigation caused him to constantly worry about things he had no control over. He would lie if he said he hadn’t once thought about leaving everything behind him and going back to London—but was that truly befitting of a gentleman?

A gentleman… oh, how he wished he wouldn’t have to be seen like this by anyone he met. That same image he’d worked so hard to build when Claire was still around now seemed to do nothing but haunt him. He felt it would keep on haunting him to hell and back. Of course he was proud of who he had become; of course Claire would be proud as well; of course all his acquaintances thought the same. However, sometimes, he was simply crushed under the weight of people’s expectations. Luke’s were probably the hardest to bear. He wouldn’t dare looking at his reflection if he were to disappoint even a young boy, so he could do nothing but stay his mouth and keep on working tirelessly to find answers to questions he didn’t even clearly understand.

For the first time in his gentlemanlylife, Hershel Layton truly was at a loss. But they needed to move forward, no matter how cloudy the whole predicament seemed—so when they woke up that morning, their third in Ashburg, they immediately needed to set out looking for new clues.

Luke did not waste time—he burst into Hershel’s room moments after he heard him going out of his own bathroom. “I’m ready to go, Professor!” A pause. The older man didn’t have his hat on, but when their eyes met, he quickly acted so his apprentice wouldn’t have to remember that scene. Luke resumed, stumbling upon his own words, “Oh, I’m sorry, Professor—I should have knocked, I—”

“Yes, my boy; a true gentleman never enters uninvited into someone else’s room.” The professor wanted to look stern, but his voice didn’t follow; the words he heard coming out from his mouth were shallow; unpersuasive, even.

The young boy was too embarrassed to even notice Layton’s state of mind—to the latter’s advantage. “I’m really sorry.”

“Let us not dwell on that. I’m happy to see you’re ever so eager to keep on investigating,” he smiled kindly. “...At least there is one of us who doesn’t lose sight of what has to be done,” he almost heard himself reply, but was heartened to realize those were only the words he’d spoken to himself inside his mind.

“I imagine we should keep on asking people here and there what they’ve witnessed throughout the last days.”

“Yes. I would also like to talk with Aurelia. I haven’t seen her anywhere since we parted ways yesterday morning, when she told us about her captivity. We could use her help,” Layton admitted.

He wondered what he would do once Aurelia would be in front of them. Would he confront her about what he’d learned? No, it would be too risky. He had too little control over the situation to even hope winning an argument against her. He would have to pretend nothing had happened—this, he still knew how to handle correctly.

However, deep inside him, he feared something might have occurred to her. She’d asked for their help; and yet, they’d been left alone a whole day. Either someone was trying to get all the work done for themselves, or something had happened to her. At best, he’d jogged painful memories while asking her about her past and she suffered so much because of these reminiscences that she didn’t find the strength to go out the rest of the day. At worse… he didn’t want to imagine. In any case, someone else had to be pulling the strings, and if he ever hoped to move forward, he had to find out who it was.

To his luck, when they arrived at the plaza, he recognized a man he’d seen a few times hanging around the place. The perfect man to ask about the situation.

“Good day to you,” Layton said with a smile. “My name is Hershel Layton; I’m an archaeology professor and I’m investigating the crimes happening in Ashburg.”

“Hershel Layton!” cried out the man, “I know you! Your face was all over the newspapers a few months back. Mind you, even here we know what’s happening all over the country. It’s an honor to be speaking to you, sir. Name’s James,” he loudly told the duo, happy to be of service.

Layton flinched at the sudden outburst of the man, but he was content to see his eagerness to help nonetheless. “I actually have a few questions to ask you, James. Are you used to being around the plaza?”

“Yes, yes—I spend a lot of time here, in my favorite restaurant, the one that’s just over there,” he pointed out, hoping Layton and the young boy would be as pleased as him to learn about such a detail. And actually, Layton was.

“Ah—we just happened to be dining at that restaurant the evening someone was abducted, two days ago,” Layton said. “Had you perhaps noticed something was amiss?”

The man’s enthusiasm wasn’t about to die down. “Yes, yes! I was dying to tell someone about this! Mind you, it wasn’t all that clear now that I think about it, but I believe I saw two people that night.” Layton’s eyes widened, proof that he had to keep on with his story. “A man screamed, I think; I had little time to notice him because the next moment, he had disappeared. I got up to see more closely what was happening, but all I could see was a woman fleeing the scene and everyone was just so worked up over the commotion that no one else saw her, and then...”

At that moment, something clicked inside Layton’s mind. So my intuition was right. It probably was the exact same woman he’d witnessed; the one Luke wanted so badly to chase while his strength had been failing him. Still, he did not feel guilty anymore over that decision of his. It would have been too dangerous anyway, and putting Luke in harm’s way had been a no from the start. They would have new opportunities to act and find the truth.

James’s voice broke Layton out of his reverie. “...Mind you. Hell, I thought it would never stop!”

“I’m sure of it, my good man,” Layton replied, though he had no clue as to what would never stop. His mind had wandered off for too long. He could only hope he hadn’t missed anything useful while he remembered the events of that night. “Well,” he resumed, “Thank you for your story. That part about the two people will really be of use to us.”

“I’m happy to hear it!”

They both were about to leave for a new place when the man suddenly cried out once more. Layton turned around, curious, and hoping James had something useful to tell them.

“Something just came back to me!” he screamed, “That woman—she had blonde hair. Long, blonde hair. I can’t tell you anything about the man, however.”

Layton felt the same dizziness as the day before strike him, but tried to hide it as best as he could. “Thank you so much. It really is helpful.”

Now there’s no doubt it is her. He couldn’t voice his doubts to Luke— the boy in blue didn’t seem distraught, on the contrary. He would probably laugh and sa y there are plenty of blonde-haired women out there in Ashburg , but Layton knew it had to be her. He just couldn’t explain why he was so convinced of it; these suspicions—no, these certainties—were something he couldn’t voice; it was a feeling too strong to be rationally explained. It was too unnatural to be true, and yet, he would hold on to his belief with all his might until the truth would be revealed for all to see.

As the duo regained their walk, Luke spoke up, exactly as Layton thought he would. “Professor, we’re not really making any progress… There are plenty of blonde-haired women out there; to say nothing about the man! It could be anyone…” He looked worn out. “Do you really believe it is helpful?”

“Oh yes, my boy, it is. You will see, in time—everything will eventually fall into place. We just have to keep on looking. I say we start investigating the forest,” he suggested, “while it is still daytime. There are answers lying over there, I’m sure of it.”

“The...forest, Professor?” Luke blinked. “I… Are we really obliged to go there?”

“Are you scared, my boy?” I can’t blame you.

“Yes—Well, I mean, no—We don’t know what could really be hiding there!”

A voice that wasn’t Luke’s rose up without them expecting it. “Are you making any progress?”

They both turned around to see Aurelia standing behind them, near the entrance of the forest. What a strange way to greet someone, Luke and Layton both thought.

“Aurelia,” the professor almost gasped—but quickly regained his composure, “What a pleasure to see you well. I feared something had happened to you.”

“Thank you for your concern, Professor, but I’m fine. I had some...duties to attend to, is all. I had been looking all over for you as well.”

“Well, now that you’re here, let us go deeper into the forest. Three pairs of eyes ought to be better than two.”

Aurelia asked in disbelief, “In the forest, you say? Why would you want to go there?”

“Why ever not?” Now the disbelief was mutual.

She had to do something before he became even more suspicious of her. Descole didn’t know it, of course, but it was the second time she prevented them from investigating the forest; Layton was no fool. The older man, from inside his disguise, could see on the professor’s face that something was wrong, so he did everything he could to play his role perfectly.

“I’m sorry,” she resumed, “It’s just that there’s barely a soul who dares going inside that forest, and I thought you wouldn’t want to risk Luke coming to any harm.” The Luke argument has to work, hasn’t it?

“Thank you for your concern, Aurelia, but even if I told Luke to wait for our findings at our hotel room, he would refuse,” Luke immediately nodded, glad to have made his point clear after months of deliberating. “…So I fear I have no other choice but to go in there with him. I will protect him, should anything happen, of course. Moreover, the fact that there’s barely a soul who goes there is proof enough that something may very well going on. Something I’m bent on discovering.”

Aurelia nodded. “Fine. Then let’s go.”

So he couldn’t manage to convince Layton to stay out of the forest. He quickly gave up, however—there were more important things to do at the moment. The risk of the gentleman finding his ship was close to none; he had parked so far inside the forest that they would have to walk a long way between many bushes and tree branches to discover it. And they had no reason to go that way—it was too silent, too normal. Layton wasn’t aiming at what was normal.

He also had to consent to Layton’s plan because he wasn’t supposed to act like Descole would—he was Aurelia, so he had to do anything she would have done, though he still wasn’t precisely sure of what that was. His egoistical fears couldn’t get in the way of that investigation. He had to pretend so well he would forget who he truly is, even if for a moment—play a role, perform a play, just as she would have done, were she still here. He’d seen her do it countless times, he’d done it countless times as well, so there was no way he would fail now.

When they’d entered the forest, they’d immediately noticed a path; something strange to be sure, seeing that for the most part, the forest seemed completely unattended. If there’s a path, there must be something at the end of it, Layton eventually said, and they set out looking for that something.

After half an hour of walking, almost in silence if not for Luke’s frequent questions and fears, they came upon an old building.

“Professor, look!” Luke exclaimed.

“Shh, Luke,” Aurelia replied in a low voice. “If there’s a building here, then there must be people inside it. We must not be discovered now.”

The boy pouted, but agreed nonetheless. “Okay… Then what do we do, huh, Professor?”

“Hmm,” he put a hand on his chin; with the other, readjusted his hat before speaking up, “There are signs of life here. Look, fresh footprints on the ground,” the professor pointed out for all to see. “If we aren’t careful, we could be ambushed. Perhaps that’s the goal of whoever is inside that building.”

Luke felt a chin down his spine. He didn’t want to stay here more than was necessary, but sadly for him, it was necessary if they ever dreamed of moving on. Still, after a while, the professor started to turn around, which surprised both Aurelia and the young boy.

“What are you doing, Professor?” the young lady asked, dumbfounded.

“It’s not safe to keep on going. Plus, nightfall is around the corner. For now, let’s just get back to the hotel and talk about what we can do next.”

This time, Hershel Layton didn’t turn back because he was scared of what could lie beneath these walls; he was scared something might happen to one of them. He felt the need to protect them both. And so they needed to retreat—but soon, they would come again, and light would be shed on everything that was happening in Ashburg. At least, that was what he hoped.

Two hours later, the three of them had a well thought-out plan for the next day. They’d meet up at noon at the plaza and go straight for the forest, with something to counterattack if need be. Inspector Grosky, who was staying in Ashburg one more day, would stay behind—Luke would go alert him if anything didn’t go according to plan, and they would be saved, at least for some time. Still, one of them could rush out of the forest to alert the authorities, and soon, whatever what unfolding in the building would be no more. They had enough back-ups to win, even if they didn’t yet know who, or what, their foe was going to be.

Ignorant they were indeed. Hershel Layton couldn’t begin to imagine all the trouble that would soon be unfolding right under his eyes—and he was even more far from thinking nothing would go according to plan.

As soon as their reunion was over, Descole quickly left the hotel for the forest. He couldn’t wait the next day to investigate; he believed himself to be strong enough to handle everything on his own. He would drop the guise of Aurelia, of course, and he would win, even if he had to fight alone whoever or whatever was awaiting behind the building’s walls.

As he was en route to the building, something stirred within him. He had to go back to the Bostonius to check on his prisoner, and perhaps try to learn more, now that he thought the end to be so close. For once, that’s an investigation that won’t last long—let’s just hope it gives me the information I need on the Azran legacy, he said to himself. It seemed delusional to hope for something like this in such a place, but that was where his researches had led him, so he was confident about the outcome.

Descole quickly turned back and reached the Bostonius in about thirty minutes. There, he found Raymond, who was calmly waiting for him.

“Good day to you, Master,” the Scotsman bowed down respectfully. “I hope everything is going as smoothly as you’d hoped it would.”

“It is. Thank you, Raymond,” Descole smiled before heading over to the room where the true Aurelia was being held captive.

When he opened the door, he didn’t expect to see her looking so down—she had only been here for a few hours, after all. Still, she really was in a sorry state; something which didn’t really please Descole. No matter the means he had to use to win, he never really wished to inflict such pain to someone who was innocent. Unlike—

But is she truly innocent? a voice murmured inside his head, not allowing him to think further about everything he’d lost.

“I see you really do need something to eat,” was the only sentence Descole managed to get out of his mouth upon entering the door to the room.

Aurelia grumbled, visibly disturbed in the somewhat sleepy state she was in. When she recognized her abductor, the tired look in his eyes was quickly replaced by an angry one. “I don’t need something to eat ,” she hissed, “I need to get out of this damned place.”

“For someone in such a state, you still have a lot of strength when it comes to hating me. Let us use that same strength to answer my questions, shall we?”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Descole wasn’t intimidated. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, I have lots of things to say to you. So you will calmly sit down and listen to me.”

No matter how reluctant she was, and despite how little patience he had, he still offered Aurelia something to eat as well as a glass of water. It was the least he could do—he also imagined it would make her change her mind a little. She accepted the offer, but the angry look in her eyes didn’t fade away.

“I will still resent you for this,” she said, as though she’d read inside his mind.

“I don’t care.”

It was a lie—though a well hidden one. For some obscure reason, he didn’t want to be hated by that woman. He had never seen her before in his life, and to him, she was nothing more than a pawn—just like everyone else was when he had a goal he needed to reach. ‘Twas always thus, and it would never change. At least, that was what he used to believe.

Of course, his plan was still his top priority; nothing or no one could divert him from it. Nonetheless, for once, he wanted to make things right—or at the very least, make as little damage as he could, so to speak. Was this the start of his redemption? he wondered, but just scoffed at the prospect.

No matter. He had to get back to the main issue. “What are you truly doing in Ashburg, Aurelia?”

“I’m investigating—you can ask this as many times as you like, my answer will never change.”

“Don’t take me for a fool. I can hear it—the trembling in your voice. Something’s not right. There’s something you don’t want me or anyone else finding out.”

Descole looked away for a moment—Aurelia took that opportunity to keep on trying to untie herself. She was certain she would remove these ties, eventually; Descole didn’t know how much she was used to this kind of situation. People being held captive, abductors trying to make something out of them...it had been her daily routine for as long as she could remember, after all. So, of course, she was well ahead of him . That’s why she knew the ties wouldn’t last long on her. What little forces she’d managed to recover thanks to Descole’s gifts had allowed her to fight back. And fight back she did—in less than five minutes, the links were no more, though she awaited her chance to strike.

In the meantime, she had to pretend.

She looked down, as though she was stricken by sadness of a sudden. “I...Yes, I have a secret. One I don’t want Layton and Luke to discover. You’re right. But if I told you, what’s to prove you wouldn’t tell them?”

At that moment, Descole experienced a dizziness like he never had before. He looked deep inside Aurelia’s eyes, as though the answer to such a strange state would lie within, but he was met with pure sadness. Sadness and...a familiar feeling he couldn’t make sense of. A sudden, strong feeling of déjà-vu that worried him so much he forgot where he was, and what he was supposed to do—he didn’t like to lose control, and that was precisely what was happening to him.

What could these sudden thoughts possibly mean? Who was that woman? Why was there such an awkward feeling in the air whenever they were in the same room? Perhaps it was nothing to worry about—perhaps it was just his imagination...but it was never merely that. If he had a hunch, he would not let go.

That’s why he couldn’t Aurelia go.

...Though she precisely chose to act otherwise. Taking advantage of Descole’s sudden state, she lunged at the masked man with all her might, and she was able to pin him to the wall—she was way smaller than him, and perhaps even less strong, but she had to seize such an opportunity to break free of these chains. She expected him to put on a fight; he did, but not as she expected him to. He was surprisingly easy to trap...a nice prey, so to speak. He growled and fought back, but still, Aurelia had the upper hand. He figured that was purely because she had everything planned out. Had he had his sword by his side, it would surely had been different—sadly, he’d left it somewhere else in the Bostonius, figuring he wouldn’t need it this time. A grave error.

In less than one minute, Descole’s arms were tied behind his back, and he couldn’t move his feet either. When Aurelia was done, she looked down upon him with a cunning smile. “There.”

“Why did you—You little,” he sworn as he tried to untie himself, “You will pay for this!” He suddenly calmed down and stopped fighting, replying to her with the same smile, figuring that was a better strategy. “Raymond will rush to my aid in no time. Have you thought about this?”

“I have. I know you’ll find me eventually. I’m simply buying time,” she admitted. “I can’t stay here.”

“You’re no ordinary woman. No one ever bested me the way you did.” He kept muttering to himself, unaware that Aurelia could still hear him, “I will discover that secret of yours as well as the Azran legacy.”

When she heard the words Azran legacy come out of his mouth, she froze. A million thoughts swirled inside her head—images, as well. Or was that...forgotten memories? She wasn’t sure.

There was one thing she had to keep in mind—she couldn’t stay here one more second.

And so she stormed out of the damned place, rushing towards Ashburg, leaving Descole all alone with his disturbing thoughts.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Growing Suspicions

Once again, she was running. It was all though everything that had happened twenty-four hours before was repeating itself. That dark forest, these branches, these bushes, these strange noises...she was still surrounded by everything she hated most, and yet everything she was most familiar with.

This time, there were no cracks. No more masked men who’d try to abduct her...at the very least, that was everything she could hope for. She had to get to Ashburg as fast as she could.

Her thoughts wandered off again. The memories—those somber, forgotten memories—were here again. No matter where she was, they would never leave her be. There were still these strange-looking men all around her. A lot of noise, uneasiness in the air, fear as well. Only this time, she felt nothing. No pain. Only some kind of never-ending sadness, though she didn’t know where it was coming from. What could be worse than feeling constantly down, while there was no reason to feel that way?

Of course, her life wasn’t perfect. No life ever was anyway. But she had a place to stay, she was employed, she wrote beautiful stories sometimes—she was talented at what she was doing. But no matter what she would do, the memories would keep on following.

She had given up on the hope of finding where they were coming from; on the contrary, she’d figured it had something to do with the suffering she’d been forced to endure some months before (that damned story she had to tell Layton and Luke), no matter how wrong it felt to her. There had to be something else behind this, but what it truly was, she had no idea. And it wasn’t her top priority anyway. Maybe one day she’d end up figuring it out for real, and all the pain would forever be gone—but she had imagined that it would happen if she somehow find a way to forget about it. Don’t try to look for something, and you’ll eventually find it when you least expect it, she often believed.

The gears in her mind could not stop turning. She could never hope for respite. Now that the memories were gone, though momentarily, she remembered the last words she’d heard coming from the mouth of that man whose name she could not even recall. Des- something, was it? She figured having his identity could maybe be of use to her, or to the others , but then she changed her mind. Whenever she would get back there , she would not confess what had happened to her. There were many others reasons she could fed them with, and they wouldn’t suspect anything all the same. She was away investigating, anyway. Undercover. Those were the orders she’d always followed. She thought she could steel her resolve this time. And yet…

“I will discover the Azran legacy.”

“The Azran legacy.”

The Azran legacy…

It couldn’t stop echoing inside her mind. It wouldn’t leave her be.

She shuddered, holding her arms closer to her body. No, there was no way he could be allowed to find the Azran legacy before them! If he did, then there would be nothing left for her. Nothing left for them. Everything would have been in vain.

It was the sole path they could never be allowed to follow.

As she come out of Ashburg’s immense forest, she had changed her mind...she would tell them about the masked man, and it would be for the best.

The next morning, as soon as the sun had risen, Aurelia was already running around. She hadn’t found the strength to go see Layton and Luke that previous night, no matter how necessary she felt it had been. Plus, it’s too late—I would only disturb them, she figured. It had to wait a little more.

She had almost forgotten how good it felt to be sleeping in her own bed. These last few weeks, she hadn’t been able to get much sleep, and so she decided she would allow herself a night’s rest, far from all the agitation she feared, far from all her duties.

She couldn’t stay still much longer, however. When the clock struck eight, she was already entering the hotel, rushing to see the professor in his room.

A voice she had never heard before suddenly called her from across the lobby. “Why, hello, Aurelia. You’re up early.”

Aurelia quickly turned around, worried and dumbfounded at the same time. An old woman was smiling behind her desk—the hotel manager, by the looks of it, though she had no idea who she was or what her business with her could be. “Um, hello,” she hesitated, “Have we met?”

Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to be confused. “Of course we did. You were there with Mr. Layton and his young apprentice just last night,” she recalled.

Aurelia decided she couldn’t keep on fueling such confusion, and so she started to lie. “I did?” A pause, before she decided to smile awkwardly. “Oh, yes—I’m so sorry, I’m rather forgetful these days.”

Elizabeth regained her smile as well. “I can imagine, what with all the trouble that investigation brings upon you three. Mr. Layton and the boy are still in their room, if you’re looking for them,” the lady said.

“Thank you.”

When Aurelia disappeared into the hallway, her newfound smile was gone. Confusion was written all over her face, as she started to understand what could have happened. The next minutes won’t be easy, she realized, as she knocked on the professor’s door.

A muffled voice, coming from inside the room. “Come in.”

As she pushed the door open, Layton and Luke both looked at her in disbelief. Precisely what I was expecting.

“Hello, Aurelia,” Layton said. “Is something the matter?”

“No, of course not, professor,” she replied calmly. Now was the time to drop the bomb. “It’s been a long time since I saw you both, and I wanted to apologize about my...leave of absence,” she confessed.

“What?” Luke exclaimed, “But you were here last night! Don’t you remember what our plans for today were?!”

“Well, I…”

Layton put a hand on his chin. “Hmm… Luke, calm down, please.” He then turned to face Aurelia. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

There’s no way I’m telling them what I just experienced, Aurelia immediately thought. “Well, the last time we saw each other, I was telling you about my days in captivity.” Layton’s question had been distorted, but what she just said was no lie nonetheless.

“So it means that there’s a one-day gap in your memories,” he replied, “One day you spent with us and yet you have no idea what happened. Is that correct, Aurelia?”

“Yes...I believe it is.”

Layton started walking in the middle of his hotel room, his hand still on his chin. Luke and Aurelia could see him frown, lost in thought. There was something he was about to deduce—Luke was certain of it.

“There’s no way your memories have been entirely wiped out,” Layton admitted, following his train of thought. “Moreover, some of your behaviors seemed odd to me yesterday. Hmm… Yes, I might have the right of it.” It was as though he was alone in that hotel room. As per usual, Professor Layton had laid bare someone’s lies—but contrary to all his previous investigations, the culprit was not in that room.

Luke asked, shyly, “Professor, do you understand what’s happening?”

“Yes, my boy. I have figured it out.”

“Is it…?” he started, fearful to see his suspicions confirmed.

Layton was as fearful as his apprentice to be right—seeing how it ended last time, and what it costed him—but he could not let his fears overtake him. He would act before it would end in disaster; he would put a stop to the man pulling the strings. Believing words weren’t necessary, he simply nodded at Luke, before switching to another matter entirely.

“Well, now that you’re here, Aurelia, I believe you should not be left in the dark. And about this confusion,” he added, as though he had read her thoughts, “Don’t worry. It will be cleared up soon. When all the protagonists will have assembled, I shall explain everything.”

Aurelia had to hide a shudder. “Thank you. And yes, I would very much like to know what progress you’ve made during that time, and what I was supposed to do with you today.”

Whilst Layton explained the plan a second time, he could not take his mind off his newest fears. He had no idea how the day would unfold; how everything would end, either. But to him, there was no doubt that it was that man who was pulling the strings, once more. And for some reason, he and Aurelia couldn’t possibly be acquainted, so it meant that what he believed to be a lead had been false reasoning from the start. Or had it?

He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Descole’s point of view – The Previous Night

A roar echoed inside the cabin. “Raymond!”

Descole had been trapped for a few minutes. Still, there was no way he would spend more time in that state. Fortunately, Raymond quickly rushed to his aid.

“Master,” he said, upon coming inside the room and running to his side, “What on earth has happened?” He was not used to seeing Descole tied to a chair.

“She bested me, that’s what happened,” he let out angrily as Raymond untied him. “I had left my sword elsewhere. Had I had it by my side, I—”

He was interrupted by the Scotsman. “You can’t always hope to solve everything with violence, Master. You could have hurt her, and that was not what we planned, yes?”

Raymond had always had that habit of saying we whenever Descole had something in mind that needed to be done—somehow, he refused to let him act on his own. A moral support; a pure reminder that if something were to befall him, he would always rush to his aid, much like he had just done.

“No,” Descole sighed. “But no matter. I have to get out of this place right now!”

“Surely you jest. If you do that, you’ll be found in no time, and then everything would have been for naught. You can’t pretend to be her anymore, it’s too late,” Raymond asserted.

“So you knew what my plans were.”

“Of course I did,” he acknowledged. “I’ve been by your side for more than a decade, and I know your tricks all too well, especially when something doesn’t go the way you wanted it to.”

“I couldn’t get answers from her,” Descole simply admitted, as if he needed to justify anything.

Raymond had noticed a change in Des’s behavior, though he could not exactly point out what it was. He seemed troubled by something; admittedly, he had just been bested by a young woman who had ruined his initial plan—something he wouldn’t tolerate, as always—but apart from that, there was something new. Though the man was wearing his mask, he could guess that somewhere deep in his eyes, there was a glimpse of disappointment; sadness, even. Such feelings didn’t come with Jean Descole. All the same, Raymond couldn’t be lied to.

“Master, there’s something unusual in your behavior,” Raymond said. “You’re too calm. What happened with that woman?”

“Precisely nothing, and you know that’s the problem. She did not tell me anything,” he replied slowly, detaching every word.

“Perhaps she had nothing to say, and you were wrong—“

“No,” he countered. “There’s something strange going on, and that woman is at the center of it. You know it as well as I do. We’ve known it longer than Layton was around. We both witnessed the same thing, didn’t we?”

“Indeed. She was seen more than once lurking around the forest…” Raymond acknowledged.

“...a strange look on her face,” Descole concluded. “By the way, I’m certain she looked...differently, those days. Something has changed but I wasn’t able to figure out what, or why. It could be because I stood closer to her earlier, but my intuition never fails me.”

Raymond stood in the middle of the room, his eyes closed. He knew the masked man wasn’t done with his story yet, so he waited for him to keep going. Descole, on the other hand, had no desire to, but felt obligated to anyway—otherwise, Raymond would end up forcing the answers out of his mouth. ‘Twas always thus.

“I sensed something, when we were together in that room,” Descole started. “I don’t know how to describe it. Uneasiness, a feeling of impending doom, perhaps. It was as though…” he started, unsure whether or not he should end that sentence. Raymond noticed that his friend shuddered at whatever his thoughts were, but said nothing about it. Now was not the time. “It was as though I’d seen her somewhere before,” he spoke up in a calm but disoriented tone.

Raymond did not question Descole’s thoughts—he never did. He simply wished him to elaborate. “Where could that have been?”

“I have no idea. I guess my memory’s not what it once was,” he admitted. “In any case, there’s no way we know each other. I have never met someone so young before in my life.”

Not since I lost everything, he remembered, but couldn’t find the strength to voice his thoughts this time. It was true that he wasn’t in the habit of frequenting anyone other than his faithful butler since that fateful day. The only people he saw were the ones useful to his plans—to his revenge—and they ended up being mere toys to play with to get what he wanted. So, no, Aurelia was definitely not someone he could have known. Furthermore, he hardly knew anything other than her name.

Raymond spoke up. “I imagine that all the doubts you have will be cleared up in no time. This investigation ought to end soon.” But his words were lost on Descole, who was absorbed in his thoughts.

Had he made a decisive mistake while pretending to be Aurelia? Could he have acted differently, so his plan wouldn’t have to be a failure yet again? What had gone wrong this time? Should he have approached that girl differently? Would he succeed one day?

Impersonating someone had never been that easy. He often struggled to figure out who he truly was—he couldn’t hide that he feared forgetting his identity altogether, if he kept on pretending to be someone he would never be. Raymond was aware of it, though they had never really talked a lot about it. Descole wasn’t a man who was used to confessing his fears; there were little exceptions. How could he hope to be heard when he didn’t even want to hear himself? Whenever he remembered that he was still a human being—just like Sycamore used to be, when he still existed—he couldn’t bear all the thoughts that came with it. Human beings were weak, and him, Jean Descole, could not afford to be weak.

“Master,” Raymond’s voice broke him out of his reverie, “Are you still with me?”

“Huh? Ah, I—Apologies, Raymond. I was…” he hesitated, but then changed his mind, regaining a cold voice. He had already said too much. “Anyway, I have to find some other way to make my plan a success. There’s no doubt that girl has told them everything by now, and I can’t expect to work freely like that. There’s no doubt Layton will find me before the end of the day. Damn it all,” he grumbled.

Raymond smiled kindly at Descole, though he did not voice the reason why. He will never change . The two had known each other for more than fifteen years; the old butler had witnessed Descole—Sycamore—whoever he had been, was, and would be—act in many various ways. He had seen the caring, loving man, but also the dark, devastated and dangerous man. In-between, he had met the grief-stricken man, if only for a few months, and that vision still haunted him to this day. Yes, no matter who Descole was, he would still love him—care for him—as if he were his son. Nothing could ever change that.

All the same, no matter who he was, Descole would never want anyone to take advantage of him by having a glimpse of what tormented his soul. For all these reasons, Raymond kept smiling at the masked man he saw before him. He knew him all too well.

“I’m right by your side if you need my assistance,” the Scotsman promised.

“Thank you, Raymond. I can feel that the end is near,” he confessed. “I will do all in my power to discover that legacy—to bring them back, no matter what.”

“And I will be here to see that your desire is fulfilled, Master.”

For years, he’d heard the legends about the Azran legacy. It was said to bestow an immense power upon the one who would figure out their final riddle. It was said to bestow such power that the fate of the whole world could change. The fate of the whole world…and thus the fate of people.

Of course he believed those legends to be true. And he knew precisely what he would make of such knowledge, of such power—as he knew precisely why no one else could be allowed to succeed.

The Azran legacy was decidedly both a curse and a blessing.

Shady-looking men, cries of terror and despair, blood, anger, pleas, more despair, and then nothing. It was over. It was over, yet he felt like it had only started. But it wasn’t meant to end now...

Now everything was gone, forever. There was no way anyone could change the past, and by that hand, his future was doomed. By that damned hand, he had lost everything.

“So you see, Hershel. That’s what happens when someone refuses to kneel before me or my men. I trust you’ll remember this lesson, from now on.”

A laugh echoed in the room—or was it really a laugh? He wasn’t sure—Everything was starting to fade away…

He fell to his knees, head in hands. His whole body was trembling. Sobs—Uncontrollable sobs running down his face.

“Annabell…” A whisper, so soft he doubted it was even real. He put his trembling hand on her bloody dead body. Life had left him the moment the bullet went for her heart.

“Annabell… Aurora…”

A distant scream echoed, but there was nothing else.

Only emptiness—Emptiness which threatened to swallow him whole.

Descole woke up with a start, trembling, dried tears on his face. That same damned nightmare, he realized. It had been days since it last happened—but now the memory of it was so vivid he couldn’t find the strength to get up of wherever he had fallen asleep on…

...The ground?

He blinked, and then it came flooding back. He had been going through some of his notes the previous night, after his talk with Raymond. He had probably been too tired to even realize it wasn’t a wise decision to make. Still, now he found himself in a difficult position; his back ached, as well as his heart. He had no will to keep investigating no matter how urgent he knew it was.

As he was lost in his sorrowful memories, he heard Raymond knock on the door.

“Yes, Raymond,” Descole replied weakly.

The Scotsman entered the room, worry written all over his face. “I heard you screaming, Master.”

“Screaming?”

“Yes. I figured you had that same nightmare again.”

“Ah,” was all Descole managed to reply. After a pause, he regained his composure. “Please don’t concern yourself with such...trivial matters.”

“Your well-being is no trivial matter,” the old man countered.

Descole ignored Raymond’s objection, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Twelve hours, Master. It’s almost two in the afternoon,” he revealed. “I did not dare disturb you.”

That news alone was enough for Descole to suddenly get up of the floor—though it was not without grumbling in pain—and running for the exit.

“I cannot afford to lose more time,” he said, storming out of the room. “I’ll be back before nightfall.”

Raymond blinked, and Descole was gone.

Out in the woods, the masked man thought long about the time he’d lost and could not stop swearing loudly. He was angry at himself for having slept so long—angry because he had made that nightmare again—angry because he had been bested and now everything would probably be falling apart—and finally, angry because he could not afford to be thinking about his miserable life while everything was at stake. He could not afford to be distracted at such a critical time.

No, I still have time, he heard himself saying. There’s no way Layton already has uncovered a truth I don’t yet understand myself—no matter how intelligent he is.

And so he set out in search of that same building he’d found the day before, with the intent of discovering what was inside before all the others could.

At that same moment, Aurelia had just returned by her team’s side. She had sworn she would help Layton in the afternoon—only to stab him in the back, not showing up at the requested time, getting back to the dark atmosphere she sometimes hated so much, with people she did not particularly like, instigating plans she wished she had never learned of. Yet, she knew it had to be done. She had pledged her allegiance to their cause and she, herself, wanted to discover what power could be hidden beneath these millennia of stories and legends and whatnot.

And soon, if she protected herself and the others as she swore she would, everything would be revealed for all to see.

And all of her troubles would be forever gone…

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Abducted, Again

“So it’s finally time to unearth all the secrets of that case,” the young boy said proudly.

“I don’t know if all the secrets will be hidden at such a location,” the professor replied, “But at the very least, I know we are bound to find something there.”

“What do you think this could be?”

Many thoughts were running inside Layton’s head. The information about Aurelia, her abduction, the true meaning of this case, his fears and suspicions… The professor had to select carefully what he would say, and what would have to wait. “Do you remember when we talked about that criminal organization, the other day?”

“Yes, of course! Targent, was it?”

“Indeed. They are controlling the three Azran sites we’ve found in the past few months as we speak.”

Hershel Layton had to hide a shiver upon hearing the word ‘Azran’ coming out of his mouth. It reminded him of times that no longer were, of times that had been so traumatic he had tried everything he could to block them from his memory. Easier said than done, of course—he had understood that more than once. Eighteen years after this terrible trial, the nightmares were still haunting him, from time to time. What he’d been through while in Monte d’Or had only worsened the situation. His beliefs had been shattered. Randall was back, and this was no small matter. But at what cost? He’d lost everything the moment he’d hoped they were finally all back together.

Someone had pulled the strings all along, exploiting a lost man’s weaknesses to reach his goal. It truly had been emotional abuse; one the professor had never seen before, but an act which was to be expected from the man who had tried to kill him and his apprentice at least twice, thankfully failing each time. Still, he was to be feared, because no one could ever fathom what his true intentions were, or what harmful plan he would come up with next—and who he would hurt in the process.

Randall had been found guilty of his actions in Monte d’Or, of course: Descole had disappeared, and he had wished to take all the blame upon himself either way. The no-longer Masked Gentleman hadn’t killed anyone, but the authorities and the judge had considered it would be wise to put him behind bars, even if for a small amount of time. Thankfully, his redemption was quick and plain for all to see, so the professor expected him to be freed soon. But it still hurt to realize that his best friend— the one he always thought dead by his own hand—was serving some time in prison. Layton hadn’t done grieving over his loss from eighteen years ago that he now had to deal with the harsh reality of his best friend’s return, only for him to be taken from him once more.

For all these reasons, he blamed Descole. He could not say he hated the man—he didn’t believe himself capable of hate anyway—but he was still responsible for a lot of miseries that had happened to him and his friends in the past few months. His cowardice had to be the one thing he could not forgive. No matter who the masked man really was, Hershel hoped his motives would be revealed some day so he could finally understand what the point of all this had been.

The Azran, Randall, Descole. Everything was connected by a single thread. There were still so many secrets left to uncover about these three, but none he could deal with at the moment. Hopefully, soon, I’ll be able to figure out two of them, and then I’ll have all the time in the world to take care of the last one back in London, Layton found himself thinking.

Before long, the professor noticed he had been lost in his thoughts for too long. Luke was eyeing him, worry written all around his tiny face.

“As I was saying,” he resumed, “I believe it is very likely for us to find Targent here. It’s just...my intuition. I don’t think the case we have here will be simple, and the methods we have seen—deceit, abductions, violence—remind me too much of Targent’s modus operandi to not think about them.”

“Do you think they could be using that strange building we came upon yesterday?”

“That’s what we’ll have to find out along with Aurelia, my boy,’” Layton said, getting up of their hotel room sofa.

“Oh yes, it’s almost time for us to leave for the forest,” Luke said, upon looking at the clock on the wall. “It’s a quarter past two already.”

“Then let us head out,” Layton smiled.

Eager to learn more about the nefarious activities going on in the middle of the forest, they quickly left the hotel, greeting Elizabeth on their way out.

Soon, many discoveries would be made. At least, that was what the two of them were hoping for. No matter what or who was lurking around in the forest, the building had to provide them with some answers.

Descole’s point of view, a little while later

After a thirty-minute walk, the masked man had finally arrived at the ancient building. He had figured it could be better to run, but did not want to waste too much effort on this. He would be arriving soon anyway, and no one would be in sight. He would have the forest for himself, so to speak.

The atmosphere felt different than the day before—the winter sun was still quite high in the sky, so the surroundings were more apparent. As he’d predicted, it would be the perfect opportunity to investigate. Layton had chosen wisely the time, Descole thought.

Still, upon arriving, he was surprised to not find Aurelia anywhere in the vicinity. He found himself looking carefully all around to prevent another skirmish on her part, but she was nowhere to be found, even though they had planned to meet here at three in the afternoon. While he was still impersonating her, he had told them she would be arriving early so she could find out a little more about their surroundings and set up a more concrete plan for them to enter the building safely. These promises had been his, so he had no guarantee the plan would still work as they’d planned. Had the young lady rushed to Layton’s side, telling him everything he had put her through? Had they decided to keep on going with the plan, or had they chosen to act otherwise? Descole had no idea. He’d made a risky gamble, but as far as he was concerned, he had no reason to fear anyone would come...yet. The forest was so calm anyone could doubt anything ever happened inside it.

No matter what would happen in the next few minutes, the masked man had to start his own investigation. He knew Layton would eventually go back to this building, so he couldn’t afford to lose more time. He wasn’t afraid of being discovered by Layton—he knew it would be unavoidable now that his plan A had failed, and he would have backups if dire occasions arose—but rather, falling into a trap wasn’t out of his league, especially with such opponents.

He wasn’t sure whether Targent were really the ones he was fighting there or if it was someone else entirely, but he had a strong feeling the outcome of this investigation wouldn’t please him. In fact, he had wanted to believe he wouldn’t end up in front of them again after what had happened in the desert, but they were bound to show up anyway. That was immutable. He’d avoided too many shots to even hope keeping the count, faced that no-good leader after more than a decade, and finally he’d been tied to a chair in his own airship. All of this in the span of a few months, and all of this had been happening to him while he least expected it. So it was only fair to acknowledge that yet another trap could be lying in wait somewhere around him, and he would be none the wiser.

After a short investigation, however, Descole had made sure no traps had been set up—at least not near the building. He remembered Aurelia, figuring she still hadn’t showed up, though the clock was about to strike three in the afternoon. Either she had betrayed them, or they had planned a different course of action. If she hasn’t betrayed them yet, she ought to do it sooner rather than later, Descole thought. There was just something in that woman—a strange aura, perhaps—which made him convinced that she was unworthy of their trust. In any case, nothing could erase what he’d seen with Raymond a few days ago.

The masked man looked at the ground, noticing fresh footprints, just like the day before. He squatted down to have a closer look at them, hoping to find some more information this way. There seemed to be a pair of footprints, leading towards the entrance of the not-so-abandoned building. From what he could tell, one could belong to a woman—the shoes were too small to belong to a man, but too large to be those of a child—and the other, to a man. The small prints seem to be coming from boots…so my intuition may very well be true, Descole guessed. Every time he’d seen Aurelia, she was wearing some, and from what he could remember, these prints would be a perfect fit.

At that same moment, a distant noise got him out his thoughts. It was too far away for him to be certain, but from what he could gathered, the muffled sounds could belong to some kind of machinery. It was perfectly hidden at first glance, but he was now convinced something was going out inside the building. Something that would surely not fill his soul with delight, but rather with ire and resentment.

Layton’s point of view

The professor and his apprentice were walking inside the forest, getting closer to the building with each step. Luke had feared it wouldn’t be easy to find their way again, but Layton was gifted with a good sense of orientation, so he’d had no trouble leading the two of them towards the right path.

Still, Layton felt uneasy the more the building was approaching. He’d been keen on bringing this new investigation to an end, but the more time passed, the more he sensed their future wouldn’t be bright. On the contrary, his ever-so-famous intuition had forced him to believe everything they would discover in this building would be grim.

Luke felt the same, so he had to share his most recent fears. “Professor,” he began, quivering, “I don’t really like it here. Maybe it’s not a good idea to go back after all…”

Layton looked at him with concern but also determination in his eyes. “That was what the three of us decided, Luke. We chose to keep on with this plan no matter what happened yesterday.”

The young boy blurted out, “But what if—what if we end up crossing paths with…him!?”

“That is partly why I decided it would be wise to go for the forest today at the appointed time.”

“But what if he’s already here? What if we’re bested, and then everything will have been for naught? Or worse...what if he locks us somewhere and we can’t escape?” The young boy had too many questions, too many thoughts running inside his head. He feared it would never stop.

To ease his worries, Layton let out a soft laugh. “There’s no need to think about such scenarios, my boy. I won’t let anything happen to you, and I still know how to defend myself, you know.” Even though he could only sympathize with Luke, they could not lose sight of what was at stake here. They had to keep going.

Soon, the building was looming before them once more. But Aurelia was nowhere to be seen. Layton had a quick look at his watch, fearing they were too early, but they had arrived right on time. They decided to wait a few more minutes, somehow enjoying the quiet of the forest and the slight warmth of the winter sun piercing through the trees, but when the clock struck a quarter past three, there was still no sign of the young lady.

“It’s odd,” Layton said. “She swore she would be here before three. And I know that’s the real Aurelia who came to see us this morning, so I don’t see why…,” he suddenly got interrupted by a realization, thinking aloud. “Yes, perhaps something has befallen her again.”

Luke’s eyes were filled with worry once more. “Do you think the same person is behind this? Professor, do you think she’s hurt?”

“No one can say for now. But we have to go without her...we can’t wait yet another day.”

Layton had another thought, but he figured it wasn’t the time to tell Luke. Only two reasons could make sense, according to him. Either Aurelia had been hurt by him, or she had betrayed them. Strangely enough, he was certain that these two possibilities had the same odds of happening, but the second one could explain all the doubts the professor had whenever the young woman stood beside them. Her behavior had been inexplicably peculiar, and as per usual, he was convinced there was more here that met the eye.

He found himself fearing which one of his assumptions would end up being the right one. But just as he told Luke, he had to keep going, and so he steeled his resolve, wrapping the doorknob with his hand.

Descole’s point of view

Descole had been hiding beneath a tree for about fifteen minutes when he started pondering what he should do. He figured he could flee, of course, but then it would be tantamount to admitting Layton had bested him...again. And that couldn’t happen. Not now, and not anymore. What if the key to finding the Azran legacy was hidden inside this strange building?

He could also keep on lurking around the two of them, but he’d probably end up discovered, and it wouldn’t be flattering for a man such as Descole to be found that way. He was no common thief, or whoever he would be accused of. He was many things, but not that kind of feeble-minded person.

Many emotions could be seen all over his face, all at once. Anger, perplexity, doubt, and even a little bit of worry. Though he should have expected Layton to show up, he was still angry at him, because he could not stop following him everywhere—or was it the other way around? He was perplexed, because he couldn’t find a way to reveal his presence to the others; there was no plan he could come up with this once. He wished Raymond would come and save him from that trouble. He was prey to doubts, because he did not know what to expect from the unannounced meeting which was on the verge of happening. And he was worried, perhaps for all these reasons at once.

“We have to go without her...we can’t wait yet another day.”

The moment he heard those words coming from Layton’s mouth, he chose to act, no longer looking for a way to make a dramatic entrance. This unforeseen reveal would have to do.

“So we meet again, Layton.”

Layton let go of the doorknob, startled, promptly turning around to see Descole standing behind them, a smile on his lips. “Descole!”

A young voice, almost like an echo. “Descole!” Luke’s words felt more accusing; still, yelling twice his name seemed important somehow, since it had always happened like this.

Layton did not want to lose more time. “I would have expected your reveal to be more...eccentric than this. What are you doing here?”

Jean Descole scoffed. “I believe our motives are the same. But this time, I give you my word these secrets will be mine and mine alone.” He had put a hand on his sword, readying it if need be. He couldn’t let anything—or anyone—get in the way of his discoveries.

Luke exclaimed, “We’re nothing like you!” The young boy then proceeded to jump to matters he was preoccupied with. “What have you done to Aurelia?!”

“Do you mean the young woman I have recently pretended to be, while I was trying to get some answers out of her, specifically regarding her betrayal towards you? Then, I have done nothing particularly...damaging to her. She escaped anyway,” Descole admitted, losing his smile, a glint of bitterness in his eyes, though it was hidden from the duo standing in front of him.

Layton looked puzzled. “Her...betrayal?”

“Quite right. You do know that, don’t you?”

Luke wasn’t ready to acquiesce to anything Descole would have to say. “Aurelia would never betray us...on the contrary, you’re the one who keeps on taking advantage of us! Isn’t that right, professor?” Hershel, however, was silent. “Professor?”

Aurelia’s point of view

There was commotion outside, just like the day before. It didn’t usually happen. It had actually never happened before; whenever someone came back, they were too silent to be noticeable—and they knew the rules. The people outside obviously did not.

Though she could not hope to learn anything precise about what was happening without going out of the building, she still had good hearing. And even if she hadn’t, these people-especially one man—were too loud to not be heard. Though the voices were muffled, she could hear some bribes of the conversation they were having.

“...cole…!”

“Motives...Mine alone…”

“N...ing…ou…Aurelia…”

“Betrayal…scaped…”

She gasped at the sound of her name. The two people who were working alongside her in the room immediately stopped what they were doing, as well.

One man, with a hoarse and grave voice, spoke first. “Did you hear that?”

Aurelia nodded, trying to hide how tense she had become. They were trained for this, but still… “It seems we have company. They might have come for me.” Of course she had recognized who it was.

The second man, a scar across his face, looked at her, suspicion in his eyes. “Did you tell them anything about us?”

“No, of course not,” she almost screamed out, “Why would I have? Have you no trust in me?”

“I don’t trust anyone. Especially not people with such a shady past."

“Swift, please,” Aurelia begged, “I have been here longer than you have, and you know how reliable I am. I can’t believe you’d dare cast such suspicions upon me.”

“I can never be too careful...those are the orders. You haven’t been yourself since you met Layton.”

The discomfort that threatened to swallow her whole was suddenly replaced by a calm and collected determination. “Hershel Layton is a very intelligent man. That’s precisely why we agreed he should come to Ashburg. There’s no doubt he’s found something strange, and now, he’s about to chase that lead of his with all he’s got.” She paused, getting away from the machine she had been working on before she heard the voices. She suddenly had a very serious look on her face. “You remember what the boss told us. Plan Owl is to be carried out, and I’m the one in charge.”

Swift disapproved—he had never understood why that woman had earned so much trust from the boss, knowing how feelings were, and had to be out of his reach—but he realized that now was not the time to engage in such trivialities. Instead, he nodded, and the two men proceeded to leave the room, in silence.

Aurelia breathed in, breathed out, closed her eyes for a second, and the next moment, she was out the back door.

Layton’s point of view

“So you have your suspicions as well about her...night activities, I take it.” That was all Hershel Layton could manage, though there was so much more he wanted to say. He then thought Descole was not the one he should speak with about his recent discoveries; at least, not right now.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to investigate,” the masked man countered. “I have been here for ten days, and I have seen her lurking around the forest too many times.”

Layton wasn’t satisfied by such an answer. “If you’re here, that means you have a precise goal in mind. Why haven’t you investigated the forest before?”

“I was investigating,” Descole hissed through bare teeth, “I was not going to turn myself in to the enemy so soon.”

“So you figured it was better to wait until I got here, so you could singlehandedly see through Ashburg’s secrets, then claim all the glory to yourself, while pretending to be the one I was investigating with. How very...characteristic of you.” When the words left Layton’s mouth, he did not recognize himself. But somehow, he had to let them out. He had to let him see how much he resented him for everything he’d done before.

Descole could not hold back a laugh, hand still on his sword. “It seems you have a score to settle with me. I can’t blame you, but I can’t say I expected it so soon either.”

Awaiting the battle, in one fell swoop, Layton told Luke to stay away, picked something up from the ground, and readied his makeshift sword, before his enemy had the time to strike.

The professor, a hand on his hat, the other on the piece of metal he’d found, spoke up. “I won’t let you get in the way of my investigation this time. You won’t get the chance to hurt someone else with your wicked ways.”

Surprisingly enough, Descole was the first to strike, anger taking hold of him. “I can’t let you interfere either. This fight is mine, and I can’t let it to anyone else. It’s—this legacy is all I have left.” The man was so desperate to win that he let all his emotions overcome him, unable to stop the words getting out of his lips—the thoughts he’d never voiced to anyone other than Raymond.

Layton couldn’t make sense of anything he’d just heard. He was distraught, and Descole took advantage of that with a strike that almost hit the professor on his shoulder. “What? Ungh—You aren’t making any sense, Descole!”

“I have to stop them, before they—”

The two of them suddenly froze, weapons in hand. Gasping, they looked at each other, frowning. They were certain some bushes had just moved.

Layton let out a whisper, “Someone is here.” The two men nodded at each other, as if to say ‘The fight is over for now’, and the professor took that opportunity to glance over his shoulder, checking on Luke who had fallen awfully silent during all of their fight.

Only, Luke wasn’t there anymore…

...Or he was, but at a different location. Someone held him close—no—someone was attacking him—someone was threatening him with a...knife?

Reality and illusion got mixed up inside Layton’s head. He relived the nightmare he’d done just the other day, but he couldn’t let these disturbing thoughts get the better of him. Not now.

“Luke!”

“Professor,” the young boy screamed with all his might, “Professor, help me!”

Hershel Layton couldn’t believe what, or rather, who he was seeing. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen their face straight away, either. They looked nothing like they had before, a cunning smile on their lips.

“I can’t believe we have to meet you like this...Aurelia.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Two Unbelievable Truths, Many Reminiscences (I)

“I can’t believe we have to meet you like this...Aurelia.”

Her clothes had changed—she had donned Targent’s uniform, to the two men’s utter dismay. She was truly nothing like she was before.

“Why, hello, professor Layton.” Her voice had changed as well. “Fancy seeing you here. And you’ve brought...unnecessary trouble, I see,” she added, looking at Descole.

“You!” Descole snapped. “I knew I was right!”

“Please, let the boy go,” Layton pleaded. “We can talk about it somewhere else, but don’t hurt him. He’s done nothing to—”

She held her knife closer to his throat. “I most certainly won’t let the only leverage I have over you go, no. There’s use for him yet.”

“Professor…” Luke whispered, fear written all over his face.

The brim of Layton’s hat had fallen over his eyes. “What do you want, Aurelia?”

“Your help, professor Layton.”

“We most certainly won’t help you out,” Descole interjected. “How could you imagine for even a single second that we would do Targent’s dirty work?!”

Aurelia turned to face Descole, “Ah, Jean Descole, was it? I knew you’d be trying to interfere. My...colleagues had hinted at as much,” she smiled. “I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible. We don’t need you here.”

“Pah,” he spat, “I can’t believe you were able to fool Layton with such a fake persona.”

Layton said nothing. “Whatever,” Aurelia said. “You, professor Layton, are going to lend me...no, lend us, a hand in our last project.”

“What do you mean?”

“To put it in a nutshell, there’s something we have to discover, and we need skilled men to help us,” she admitted. “Ah, and before you ask, yes, that’s where the abductions were coming from. I’m almost ashamed to confess that even us can’t handle all on our own.”

While Descole was angry at her with all his might, he couldn’t help but wonder. How could such a gentle and caring woman turn out to be so cold in the blink of an eye? Of course, appearances can be misleading—especially when it came to Targent members, and he had some experience with that—but she looked too young to be an accomplice to such cruelty. And her eyes… He’d refused to allow people to read inside his own because he himself was aware of how easily they can give someone’s thoughts away. And he was certain that there was something in her eyes that just didn’t fit…

“I…” Layton hesitated, fearing he would put Luke in danger—but he couldn’t keep a clear conscience by simply acknowledging. It wouldn’t be fitting of a gentleman. There had to be another way. “No. I can’t help you. I’m an archaeologist; using coercion and violence to reach a goal isn’t how it works in my field. I won’t sit idly by while people are getting hurt to get you what you want.”

Aurelia didn’t look surprised. “Well, then we’re just going to have to do this the hard way.”

“How characteristic,” Descole scoffed.

Aurelia snapped her fingers, and two men appeared; one who Layton knew all too well. Only, he was now wearing a Targent uniform as well.

“Leonard Bloom!”

The man smiled. “Ah, Professor Layton. Long time no see. I trust you’ve been well since our last encounter in Monte d’Or.”

“So there’s a mole in our trusted London police,” he replied. “What are you trying to pull here, sir?”

“Those incompetent fools are no match for us,” Bloom said. “I was getting tired of working tirelessly among them, so I pledged allegiance somewhere else. You see, there’s so much more at stake here, should we discover that legacy. The fate of the world could change, and we could work towards better ideals. How could I refuse them?”

The professor sighed, “So I was right. You are after the Azran legacy.”

Layton turned to face Descole, expecting him to snap at Bloom, but surprisingly enough, the man was standing still, as if time had frozen. He was eyeing fiercely the other man, who had a scar across his face. Layton could see his opponent—or whoever he was supposed to be—becoming more tense as the minutes passed, clenching his fists. Undoubtedly there was something going on between the scarred man and Descole, though he was unaware of what it could be.

“Is such an archaeological find worthy of all the sacrifices you’ve made?” Layton’s question was a rhetorical one; still, he was curious to see which answers he would get. He could not see a pained look fighting his way inside Descole’s eyes. He would never understand.

“As an archaeologist,” Aurelia emphasized with contempt, “You should be the first to understand. But you probably don’t have what it takes… No matter.” She turned around to face the two agents. “Take the boy away, but keep him alive. I’ll take care of these two.”

Luke’s eyes widened when he saw the scarred man get closer to him. He wanted to scream, but Bloom made sure he wouldn’t, stuffing his mouth with white fabric.

While Descole and Layton were watching Luke’s apparent agony, they were both struck from behind. They felt something against their faces—another piece of cloth, from the looks of it—as their strength threatened to leave their bodies.

They wanted to say something, but no sound came out of their lips.

Aurelia smiled—it was a kind smile like the one she used to offer them, but how cruel it felt now—and started leaving. “Don’t waste your prayers, they can’t save you now,” she said, upon disappearing into the building. The two men were unable to say whether she was speaking to them or to someone else.

They merely had time to move an inch before everything became black around them, and their consciousnesses were no more.

Layton awoke with a start, his back and his head aching. He blinked, believing everything he’d just been through may have been another dream, but a collapsed Descole next to him told him otherwise. If anything, it was a living nightmare.

How many time had they spent unconscious? And where were they? Looking around, the professor noticed a pretty small room. It had no window wheresoever, and a strange machine in the back. The white walls made it look like an hospital room. No matter how much he’d hated hospitals in the past, Layton found himself thinking going back there would be better than this—at the very least, it would be comfortable.

In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn this room could be used as a prison of sorts.

A moan broke him out of his reverie. “What is this place?”

“Ah, Descole, you’re awake,” Layton said. “We’ve been...trapped. I haven’t tried to open the door yet, but from what I gathered, it seems it can only be opened from the outside.”

“This can’t be,” the man hissed. He quickly got up—letting out a groan in the process—and ran to the door, but had no luck opening it. “Damn it all! They won’t get the better of me like this!”

“Why don’t you tell me exactly where such hatred is coming from?”

Descole froze in anger. That question, however innocent it may have been, felt unbearable to him. Oh, how he wished he could erase that kind and innocent look from his face!

What Layton didn’t know, however, was that he had set in motion something he would regret.

“Why would I tell you anything? Your life is too perfect for you to even understand,” he snapped, though he was aware that was a lie. Layton’s life was far from being perfect, and he knew precisely why. Still, he hid his hurt by looking angrily at the professor. “Once upon a time, I had everything I could hope for. But one day...those bastards took everything I had. I then swore I would get my revenge on them. I know what they’re after, and I’ve spent a part of my life looking for it as well. I won’t let them steal that from me without a second thought.

“I’m sure they don’t remember what they’ve done to me. They’ve probably done it countless times since. And that girl… I wonder if she’s aware of everything. Abductions aren’t their only means, far from it. I wonder if she chose to work alongside them knowing how they kill people without so much as batting an eyelid.”

“I…” Layton was speechless. “I’m sorry,” he managed, though he had no idea why he was precisely. He was aware Targent were dangerous opponents, and he’d heard a bit about how far they were willing to go, but Descole’s tale made his hair stand on end. He could only imagine what they had done to the masked man—asking him directly wasn’t a wise decision to make.

“I don’t need your pity, Layton. Those things are in the past,” he lied.

“Descole, I know you’re not as ill-willed as you’re letting on.” A laugh echoed across the room. Still, Layton paid it no heed. “If you could only cooperate, I think we could find a way to get out of this place so we could both get what we want.”

“Cooperate? And what would I stand to gain in this?”

“Freedom, and revenge, perhaps.”

Descole was on the verge of breaking down, what with all the emotions he’d been forced to experience, the traumatic memories which had resurfaced, and the pressure he’d felt these last few days. However, he could not let it show. He steeled his resolve—he would keep on trying to make Layton hate him, and perhaps then he’d get a part of what he desired...or was it a part of what he deserved?

Layton jumped to another matter entirely, however. “You’ve held Aurelia captive, haven’t you?”

All the guilt he’d feared to feel these last days over that abduction had deeply disappeared. “Yes. And?”

Layton looked deep in thought. “There’s something I’ve known about her for a while, but I didn’t know with whom I should share it. I certainly didn’t think you would be my first choice, but…,” he trailed off, “I… I was at a loss. So I thought… Maybe during the time she was with you, you’d learned something that could help me figure that out.”

“Get on with it already.”

“I had Inspector Grosky carry out a tiny investigation for me. He brought me back her birth certificate and, as I had feared, she’s not who she pretends to be.”

Descole frowned, but didn’t look surprised in the least. “That’s Targent for you. Deceit and betrayal are their usual ways. Who is she, then?”

It was too late. Descole was unaware of the bomb he’d just dropped.

“I don’t know, but for some reason, her name seemed familiar. Aurora Sycamore, born in London roughly eighteen years ago, to Desmond and Annabell Sycamore,” he recounted, the sentences still as clear as day in his mind. “Seemingly a member of Targent, though I can’t say whether she joined recently or not. I seem to recall hearing the name Sycamore before, but it’s been a while, so—”

Descole’s mind froze. He couldn’t hear any more—Layton’s words couldn’t reach him. It had to be a joke, right?

“– but I imagine we won’t be able to learn more without asking her.”

“What...what did you say?”

Descole looked like he had just seen a ghost. Layton was puzzled. “Which part?”

“That name… no… Aurora Sycamore. Aurora… Sycamore…”

He couldn’t help but utter it again, like an endless echo. Memories came flooding back—the pain, the unbearable pain as well, and it was so much worse than it usually was—there were such sweet memories; he remembered the day he held his little baby close in his arms, holding onto her for dear life, as though she would disappear the moment he looked away. He had an history of letting people he loved go—no, seeing people he loved getting forcibly taken away from him—and it hurt so much to simply remember it—it hurt so much to see the blood again, the room tainted with their blood, and the—

“...Descole!” He zoned back into the conservation. Layton noticed his hands were shaking. “Descole, what’s going on?”

Of course the professor would notice something was wrong. He had no idea how else to address that issue, though.

Descole got ahold of himself. His terror was replaced by sheer anger. “No, it cannot be. It cannot be, Layton! You’re wrong!”

Layton was used to Descole’s outbursts, but he had never witnessed anything quite like that. He feared the man would try to strike him down if he were to move only a single toenail. But he had to act, for his sake, and for everyone else’s. “Descole, I know what I’ve read. You have to calm down, and tell me what this means, or I’ll–”

There was despair in Descole’s voice when he spoke again.

“Aurora Sycamore is my daughter’s name!”

Descole’s point of view

Aurora Sycamore, born in London roughly eighteen years ago… Seemingly a member of Targent, though I can’t say whether she joined recently or not…

That damned sentence was playing again and again inside Descole’s mind, sending shivers down his spine each time. He felt the ground shift beneath his feet, fearing it would collapse just like everything he’d always been holding onto. His beliefs, his courage, his grief—nothing made sense anymore. He wanted to believe it was a mistake; a coincidence, even, but he knew deep inside his soul that it was the unthinkable truth. While Layton had looked at him with nothing but worry in his eyes, he had opened then closed his mouth, trying to find the strength to speak, but nothing would come out. The man didn’t care about anything else anymore; Layton’s baffled look meant nothing to him; the place he was trapped in, either.

He couldn’t stop the painful memories he’d fought so hard to repress from getting back to him—the more time passed, the more he felt he was about to suffocate.

Of course, there had been the nightmare; but it was nothing when compared to what he was experiencing right now.

Was he about to go through this again in front of Hershel Layton?

But if it was true…

Then Aurora was alive.

She had been alive for the past twelve years?

But he had seen her… or had he really?

No…

Des stormed into the house.

Bronev and two of his agents were standing in the middle of his living-room. One of them had a scar across his face; the other, stern-looking, stood there in silence. No sign of emotions in any of their three faces.

At Bronev’s feet laid his wife’s dead body. There were trails of blood everywhere; fresh, dark blood. On her body, on Bronev’s hands, on the couch.

Des ran over to Annabell’s body.

“Annabell… No, Annabell! You’re not dead...you can’t be dead,” tears streaming across his face, he took both her hands inside his, shaking her ever-so-slightly, desperately hoping it would be enough to wake her up.

He couldn’t see Aurora anywhere. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt either. Had she managed to hide somewhere? But then it meant she had heard—or worse, seen—everything… or had she…?

It was a nightmare, right?

Right?

Bronev’s terrible voice painstakingly brought him back to reality. “I trust you understand what happens when you disobey orders...Hershel.”

Des’s eyes were swollen, red with crying. Despair, fear and anger passed over his face in quick succession. “How...how could you, you monster?!”

“You’re the one who inflicted that upon yourself,” the cold man simply replied, a shadow darkening his face. He nodded towards the two men, and they got out of the house. “Your daughter was more intelligent than you, it seems. A shame.”

“Where’s she? Where’s Aurora?!”

“Dead—Well, I did say she was more intelligent. I didn’t say she had a chance of survival,” Bronev smiled coldly.

“No… where is…” Des couldn’t find the strength to get that word past his lips; his whole body was now uncontrollably shaking in fear. “What have you done with her body?!”

“Oh, if only you’d seen,” Bronev laughed, avoiding the point. “She was so brave. She jumped right in front of her mother to save her, the poor thing. She said we could have what we wanted, but she didn’t expect it to be…that.

“There was blood everywhere...but I guess you’re already aware of that, aren’t you? We could barely recognize the girl’s face. I considered leaving you this...gift, but even I felt it would be too harsh. So—”

“Stop,” Des screamed, pleading. “I can’t...I can’t hear any more.”

“—my agents got rid of the body.”

The man had recounted the whole story of their death with the same, sickening smile on his lips, without a shred of emotion. Des, on the other hand, was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. Powerless, he got up the floor, reluctantly leaving his wife’s body. He took a few steps towards the smiling monster, clenching his fists. The more he looked at the one who was only a shadow, a pale imitation of his father, the more he felt strength coming back to him.

He looked fiercely into the older man’s eyes. “You wish I were dead as well, don’t you? You wish you had the courage to end me the way you struck down my most loved ones. But you’re not brave enough, Bronev,” he spat. “Were I dead, I wouldn’t be standing here, swearing I’ll get my revenge on you, come what may.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Bronev said, before leaving the house as abruptly as he’d entered.

He left the house with the memory of the double crime he’d just committed, leaving his own son deprived of what he’d worked all his life to achieve.

Annabell and Aurora were gone.

Perhaps revenge would ease his pain someday.

But it would never change that immutable fact—he would never see his family again.

Anna’s lovely smile and Aurora’s shining crimson eyes were gone, forever.

How couldn’t he recognize his own daughter?

Why had she joined Targent?

How could Aurora join Targent?

Anger and guilt threatened to consume him whole as he took a few steps towards the room's door. She had to be a few yards away, and yet he was unable to reach her. Was that the story of his life? How many more time would he spend while someone he cared about was out of his reach? How many more time would he spend grieving over a falsehood?

How could he have fallen for Bronev’s lie, back then?

But it made so much sense, a voice replied in his head. You couldn’t have known—it was such a convenient story.

And I didn’t even allow him to continue...I was too scared...but what if I had acted differently? Would she…

How could he have been so blind?

She has changed...you wouldn’t have been able to know either way!

But she’s still my daughter...she’s the spitting image of Anna...isn’t she? And the eyes…

Didn’t you see the blue lenses?

How could she…?

Descole’s scream echoed on the walls, piercing Layton’s ears. “No!” He drew his sword out of his costume, striking everything that appeared before his eyes. Was it human? Was it lifeless? He didn’t care. If only he could get rid of all that pain, of all that guilt…

Layton’s voice emerged amidst all the chaos. “Descole! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Everything the man would say would be all the more reason to blame him. If he thought he hated him before, then now… “I’m going to hurt myself ?” Descole repeated, detaching every word. “Why do you care, Layton? Why don’t you stop pretending only the others matter to you, while you only care for your life and that boy’s right now?! I’ve had enough of that gentlemanly act! Being a gentleman does nothing to ease your pain!”

Though his anger prevented him from making coherent and connected sentences, Layton still believed the man’s point was made clear. He wasn’t sure why exactly Descole was targeting his choice of life at that moment, but it was obvious now was not the time to ask him about that. Or about Aurelia’s—no, his daughter’s—fate, for that matter.

Still, Layton needed to know. He sincerely needed to understand that broken husk of a man, no matter how resentful he felt. From what he’d gathered, the man had been through a hell of a life. How could one not feel compassion for him; sadness, even? Hershel Layton wasn’t a man who could lead his life without being affected by other people’s tales of woe. And for some reason he couldn’t yet place, Descole felt more than a random man he’d meet upon one or two of his investigations. But who was he, exactly? And why was it so unsettling to be standing near him while he was in a fury? Why was he feeling as though a memory was on the brink of resurfacing in his mind?

Hershel was torn out of his thoughts when he sensed the blade near his face. He couldn’t make Descole see reason otherwise; he had to fight him, no matter how inappropriate it now seemed.

Picking up a spare blade lying on the floor, he countered each strike with ease, though his mind was elsewhere.

“Descole, this has to stop!”

“No!”

“You have to calm down—I’m begging you,” he pleaded, looking up, as though an imperceptible sky would grant him his prayers. “We can fix this—”

“It’s too late now. There’s nothing else I can do—”

The blades met again, with desperate force. “We can’t stay here! We have to understand, talk to—”

“There’s nothing to say! I just have to end them, or I’ll—!”

“I won’t let you!” Layton had screamed, and in the confusion, he had gotten the upper hand. The tip of his blade pierced through Descole’s shoulder, and blood quickly came out of his wound, his cape falling out of his shoulders in the process, only to reveal a worn out suit drenched with blood.

The masked man let out an uncontrollable cry of pain, and fell to the floor, next to his sword.

Though Layton felt guilty, he was also relieved. He abhorred violence above all else, but if it was the only way for Descole to give up, then...he would have to adapt.

Descole didn’t want to give up, though. He couldn’t be bested by a mere wound on his shoulder. He wanted to pick up his sword; he’d keep on fighting, he’d let it all out, and then he could finally leave and—

“Where could you possibly go in such a state?”

Descole blinked painfully. How could Layton have…? “How did you…?”

Layton huffed, letting out a sight of relief when he noticed Descole had seemingly eased up a bit. “You can’t stop glancing over towards the door, and you look like you desperately want to leave,” he said. “But you know as well as I do that there’s nowhere you can run off to like this.”

Their eyes—or lack thereof, for one of them—met, and silence ensued, until Layton nodded at Descole. “We will find her, Descole. No matter how difficult the path ahead will be, I swore I would get to the bottom of this investigation. And if it includes dealing with the past...then so will I. Now, let me help you with your wound."

If Descole wasn’t so torn and hurt and lost—lost between who he thought he was, who he could be, and who he would no longer be—he could’ve sworn he would have smiled.

Oh, the irony of fate…

...Right, Theo?

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Two Unbelievable Truths, Many Reminiscences (II)

Layton had no idea why he felt that way. His brain was about to explode. Or was it the weight of those memories who tried to break their way in? The professor was completely clueless. Something—someone?—was about to awaken inside him, but it seemed so blurry, so far-away still.

“If it includes dealing with the past, then so will I.”

He had been determined. He was left in the dark as to why, suddenly, he believed his duty to be here for Descole no matter what. Why would he? Could he even be sure he wouldn’t get betrayed once more? What was this strange attraction he felt? Like two magnets, standing apart for too long, being immediately attracted to each other… He had no idea who Descole was, or what he’d truly been through apart from the pieces he’d been told, but he could only see a struggling man before him. The monster was gone, if only for a moment.

The professor could not remove the frowning on his already tired traits.

Descole noticed.

His voice was calmer than before. “What’s the matter, Layton?”

“I have...no idea.” A pause. “Something’s not right. I think…,” he hesitated. Could he tell him the truth? No, it would have to wait. “Nothing. We have to find Luke and unravel the mysteries lying here. Then, I’m sure everything will become clear.”

The professor had torn out a part of his jacket to stop the bleeding on Descole’s wound. As soon as it was done, he got up and started walking away.

The older man still had trouble standing up, but he didn’t know whether it was because of the weight of the resurfacing memories, or because he was wounded. Perhaps it was because of both. It seemed fitting to thank Layton, but he couldn’t find the strength to do so. He couldn’t set aside his pride, no matter how stupid it looked.

There was conflict inside him, but no the same kind as usual. He didn’t know if Layton had saved his life; he most certainly had not. Believing this somehow made things easier on Descole. There was no way he would have died here...was there? Still, he didn’t want to hurt the professor anymore—not that he ever truly wanted to, of course, but his feelings were starting to change. Hatred was being replaced by nostalgia. Determination, by weariness. And anger...by regret. At this precise moment, it was that long-lost Desmond Sycamore persona that fitted better. Not Jean Descole, the pawn, the puppet created out of sheer despair.

Who was he?

Aurelia

Who am I?

What do I stand to gain in all this?

Why a little boy?

I thought I would never have to follow those kinds of orders. I thought Gannet and Swift took care of that, among the others. They are the best at what they do, are they not?

I was never made for killing people, nor torturing them.

And yet, despite all the pain I’ve been through, I’m following their rules. I am no better than the ones who hurt me.

“Your path has led you among us. You will get revenge for what happened to you, but only us can provide you with a way to do so.”

I am weak.

I am used. I have to be.

It has to be a necessary sacrifice. One can’t always act alone.

I am strong.

They rely on me. I’m one of their best assets, or so I’m told.

I have confidence in my skills.

I still don’t know who I am, nor where I come from, but their truth has to be the truth. There’s only one place where I belong..and that’s alongside Targent.

No matter how hard the trials may become, no matter who has to be hurt in the process, we will get to the bottom of this.

I’ll have my revenge the moment I discover that secret.

The pain is still there, though. It doesn’t stop growing. I was sure it had reached its limit, but it seems it will never end. Ever since the boy lays at my feet… Ever since I set foot inside this damned room… I feel like I’m suffocating.

The cries are too much to bear.

The blood, the screams, the cold, the pleas, the blades…

No! No, please, not again… I-

It took her a moment to realize it was yet another living nightmare. There was no blood. The room wasn’t so cold, and no blade touched her skin…

...Still, it was real.

Two people were screaming—one was louder than the other, though—and the sound of blades could be heard. It seemed there was a fight going on between the masked man and the professor, whom she had trapped together.

Her breathing was erratic as she came closer to the door, hoping she would hear more.

“No!”

“End them!”

“Find her…”

They were after her, of course. She would have to pay for what she’d done.

“Not before I uncover this legacy’s secret,” she swore, talking loudly, as if she wanted to be sure that vow she’d just made was real.

But for now, Plan Owl was still underway. She had been told to keep the boy trapped alongside her as long as the last device wasn’t ready.

Plan Owl was their final move.

It was only a diversion.

In a few hours, everything would be over…

...Though she had no idea who would be sacrificed in the process.

“Please, let me go…”

A voice reminded her of...was it herself?

She looked down, and could only see the professor’s apprentice, bruises on one side of his face.

A commotion suddenly disturbed the quiet thinking of the two men. Cries and voices could be heard from across the corridor; it came from a room not far from theirs.

At the same moment, the building began to tremble. The two men looked at each other, gasping, bewildered—they could tell they both thought the same thing.

“Is this… an earthquake?” the professor asked first, a hint of fear on his face.

“No… Nothing so natural as that,” Descole replied, after a moment. “This geographical area isn’t prone to earthquakes. It seems to be coming only from this building. The source of this trembling must be huge,” he assessed.

Layton jumped towards the door. “We have to get Luke out of here!”

Descole flinched upon hearing We, but deep inside him, he knew Hershel was right. He couldn’t act on his own—he wouldn’t let him.

The professor looked at him with pleading eyes. He must have noticed his hesitation, but now was not the time to argue over something as tedious as pride.

Letting out a sight, Descole nodded. “Fine.”

Another cry echoed.

“That’s Luke! Luke is screaming, I’m sure of it,” Hershel exclaimed. “I have to go. Now.”

Descole knew the professor couldn’t be reasoned with when his apprentice was hurt, but this… would he truly risk his life to save a little boy? “You can’t leave that way. You don’t know what they—she—will do,” he said, hesitating. “Besides, we’re trapped. So what do you plan to do?”

“I just need you to lend me a hand.”

Layton showed Descole a device of some sort he’d found on the floor while he was thinking of a way to heal the masked man. It seemed it could break the lock quite easily, but the professor demanded that he hold the door so they wouldn’t make too much noise.

With a few clicks, they were out in a large and endless corridor. It wasn’t long before they heard where the commotion was coming from, however.

Layton put a finger on his lips, as if to say ‘Keep quiet’, and posted himself by the door. Now the conservation was becoming clearer and clearer.

“Please, Aurelia, I have to go! What have you done?!”

“What had to be done.”

“I don’t wanna die here!”

“This isn’t my responsibility. I have...no say in the matter, actually.”

“But you—” Even now, the professor could hear Luke’s disbelief. “You are free! You can do as you please! You can save me… Save us… Please, Aurelia?”

“I…”

“The professor will save me anyway. And I’m sure, being the gentleman he is, he’ll be ready to overlook your crimes if you let me go. And… you do have an excuse, right? Right…?”

“…”

The professor frowned. Somehow, Aurelia seemed to have played a role in the ever-growing trembling of the building. What it precisely was, however, he still had no clue.

He came closer to Descole, and whispered as low as he could.

“We have to get in.”

“But there’s…”

“I know it’s going to be hard for you, but I can’t do it without you.”

What was happening? Neither Layton nor Descole could understand where that strange sentimentalism was coming from. Or was it really sentimentalism? Perhaps it simply was some kind of silent prayer. Either they ally and win, or they die.

In such a desperate situation, a true gentleman had to forgive and move on to get towards a better future.

With a nod, they both pushed the door open.

Desmond Sycamore became Jean Descole again, as they discovered a hurt little boy and the shadow of the woman who once pretended to be their friend.

The door burst open, and without even looking at the troublemakers, Aurelia guessed who it was. Their room was shut, but it was obvious Layton would eventually come up with a way to leave.

After all… that’s what she aimed at.

“You found us,” Aurelia said with a calm, emotionless voice.

Layton couldn’t look at her until he made sure Luke was not hurt. He had those bruises over his face, but nothing too serious, so he had nothing to really about (he’d find a way to get him out of here unharmed, that much he was sure of...even if it meant hurting himself in the process, or even worse).

Layton put a hand on the brim of his hat, to avoid it from falling over his eyes. “I can’t say you tried to prevent us from finding the truth.”

Aurelia crossed her arms, looking at him with a stern face. “What’s the point? You were about to discover it yourself. I simply decided to make this more entertaining for me.”

The professor glanced over Luke’s shoulders, only to notice a flashing machine with a pressed button in the middle of it. “You did this, didn’t you? You’re the one who’s taking this building apart.”

“Correct.” Still no emotion whatsoever.

“How much time is left?”

“More or less ten minutes, I’d assume.” She scoffed, “I was actually about to leave, but you interrupted, so I had to see what you would have to say.”

Layton crossed his arms as well. “I can’t say finding out anything has been easy over the course of this investigation, but I will say, you’re a very talented liar, Aurelia,” he insisted. “No matter how much I thought your behavior to be odd, you always found something to put me back on track, so I would let my suspicions behind.

“I never really gave up, of course, but this… I couldn’t imagine you’d end up being the mastermind’s right-hand.”

Descole and Luke both exclaimed. “What?”

“When you think about it, it’s obvious, really,” Layton continued. “We already know what Targent is after, and I had my doubts about this place. The modus operandi was what linked them to those crimes they committed.

“On the other hand, Aurelia couldn’t have been the mastermind. Such large-scale havoc can’t be the work of one single person, and she couldn’t have controlled anything when she went out. So that’s why I figured you, young lady, had to be working undercover.

“When I saw you holding Luke hostage, I finally understood. The way you talked and the precision of your actions were proof enough that you were working alongside the true mastermind. Your last decision confirmed everything.”

Aurelia looked falsely impressed, as she slowly applauded Layton in a mocking fashion. “Bravo. I expected nothing less from you, professor.”

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”

“And what, pray tell, is it?”

“Why are you destroying your own base?” The noise was getting closer.

“Destroying?” She suddenly burst out laughing. “Oh no, no, nothing like that. I’m simply setting the plan in motion. Now everything is ready.”

Something clicked inside Layton’s mind.

The last piece of the puzzle.

Parts of the building, a few meters away, seemed to be collapsing already. But the professor knew they’d be spared long enough for them to arrive at the bottom of everything that had been unfolding in Ashburg.

He had vowed to discover this town’s secrets—though his promise was hence null and void, he had to fulfill it.

For himself, for Descole, for everyone who had been suffering here. And perhaps even for Aurelia herself—for who she truly was.

Layton started pacing inside the room. “We have to remember why we arrived here in Ashburg. People were abducted. Skilled people—scientists, and even what you, Aurelia, called ordinary people. But you know as well as I do that they were not so ordinary.

“They each had a talent; something that was of use in your plans. Sadly, I couldn’t find the time to investigate the whole base, but I’m certain there’s another path leading to the place where the most important part of your project is being handled at this very moment.

“A base in the middle of the forest, far from Ashburg—considering all the rumors involving that forest, it was the ideal place to work from. I assumed the button you pressed was to give a final order—self-destruct the building in case of emergency. But I was wrong. It was a final order, yes, but the most important one.

“It was the command to set your real plan into motion. A command with which you’d activate the machine you’ve spent months working on, together. A very machine of destruction, built with the help of people who had no idea what they had truly agreed to do.”

Everyone was captivated by Layton’s tale. The ever-growing smile on Aurelia’s lips showed he had been right all the way.

He had to conclude such a tale. “And a work of this nature could only be pulled off thanks to spies. In the end, it all goes back to the true mastermind of the whole predicament, the one pulling the strings.”

“The mastermind, huh?”

Aurelia smiled, and the next moment, a man came silently into the room. Dark sunglasses, a red shirt, a blue jacket. Unkempt light brown hair, a long beard…

So here he finally comes, thought Layton.

“You!” Descole struggled not to lose control.

“Why, I heard all the commotion and decided to see what it was about. What a surprise,” the bearded man let out a mocking laugh. His sunglasses prevented anyone from seeing the look in his eyes, but even that wasn’t enough to make them forget the overall dark aura of the man.

“Leon Bronev, I presume,” said Layton.

“You presume well, professor Hershel Layton.”

“How do you know my name?”

“You’re a very famous man, you know. Actually, that’s why I figured it would be good to have you in our ranks, but then I realized there was no way you’d say yes.” Bronev paused for a moment, and looked as if there was something he meant to say. “I had…other options in mind.”

Aurelia interjected. “But we ended up fine on our own, after all.”

“You traitor,” Descole spat.

It was unclear whether he was speaking to Aurelia or to Bronev, as the two of them stood next to each other. The masked man himself had trouble realizing who was supposed to be his interlocutor, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the young woman.

He refused to hear more of what they had to say—of what Targent had to say.

He looked fiercely at the both of them. “I don’t understand how someone can fall for such old traitorous tricks.”

“I don’t remember allying with you,” Aurelia replied. “I don’t have anything more to say to you—and you’re the one who should be ashamed. You’re nothing more than an abductor. That makes you no better than I.”

For a moment, the masked man was speechless. Until he remembered once more what he so desperately tried to forget. If he believed he’d been struggling before, then it was nothing compared to what he was going through at this very moment. He opened his mouth, hoping to counter her attack, but no sound was coming out. He felt as though he’d been robbed of the possibility to speak. He had to struggle not to let anyone see his trembling hands—he hoped they trembled because of the state of the building, but even that couldn’t fool him. He was the only one so unstable.

Anger and despair consumed him.

Abductor…

I abducted my own daughter?

No… she’s not my daughter… she can’t be my daughter!

But you know the truth. There’s no denying it anymore. Now that she’s standing here beside you… There’s nothing you can do.

She can’t be Aurora!

She doesn’t remember a single thing, does she?

I have to make this right… No matter who she is now, I have to do something!

You have to punish her, that’s what!

I could never… I could never hurt my own daughter. Unless… No, I didn’t hurt her. She left the Bostonius and she was safe. She was safe with me, right?

She was probably safer in the Bostonius than… here. Because there’s no way it can be true.

You know how it is. As soon as they get to you, it’s over. Your precious daughter is gone.

The building was now threatening to collapse.

As was Descole’s sanity.

“There’s much more you can’t remember… Aurora Sycamore.”

The room fell silent. Bronev couldn’t hide his surprise, no matter how hard he tried.

Then it’s really true…

“What nonsense are you spouting now?” she asked, struggling to hide how distraught she was. Her expression matched Bronev’s.

The memories… Can they be…?

“Aurora Sycamore. That’s your real name, though someone seems to have left you in the dark all along.”

“You can’t—” Bronev started, but he was soon interrupted by Descole.

“I can’t what?” he hissed. “Will this truth shatter all your plans, Bronev, just how you shattered my whole life twelve years ago?”

A sudden, heartbreaking scream echoed. “What are you all talking about?!” Fear, confusion and distrust passed over Aurelia’s face in quick succession. “I really have no idea what this is all about. You have to be mistaken.”

She quickly looked around, hoping to see another woman in the room, anything—but she knew all too well she was the only woman working for Targent. Then she was forced to admit she was the one they were talking about.

Bronev, on the other hand, wished he could find a way to stop what was about to get out, what would indeed strike a blow to his plans.

It had nothing to do with protecting a child he’d somehow raised, of course.

On the contrary, it had everything to do with not endangering what he’d been working for during the past thirty years. If someone asked him, he would admit it. He was being selfish. Nothing would ever care more than the Azran legacy.

Another voice rose. The voice of a desperate but determined man. “There’s one thing you forgot to mention, Layton, during that captivating deduction of yours.”

The professor frowned. “Oh?”

No matter how many disturbing thoughts swirled inside his head, his voice was calm. His face had regained its natural colors. “The people they’ve abducted. Of course they wouldn’t agree on building a machine that would destroy an entire town.” Layton nodded. “Now, I have a question for you,” Descole said, looking at his daughter. “Can you tell me about your lifestory? Everything you’ve done before and after you started working for them.”

Aurelia’s voice trailed off. “I… No, I… I have been working for Targent for as long as I can remember. I have been raised here, alongside Leon. They saved me when I was little and…”

She couldn’t find the strength to finish her sentence. She suddenly let out a piercing scream, one which got Layton and Descole worried, though the latter thanked all the saints that his mask didn’t allow anyone to see the true look in his eyes.

Hearing her scream like that… It’s just too much to bear.

That’s what she deserves though. She’s been fooled, and now she has to pay for what she’s done.

No, it’s wrong. I have to save her—I have to free her from that suffering! What’s the meaning of all this if I let it go to waste?

Aurelia started shaking, and extended her hand as if she wanted to grab someone or something that never came.

She experienced an immense headache in front of many witnesses who couldn’t do anything to help her.

Images were flying endlessly before her eyes. Images of a past she had never had the right to remember before—a past that couldn’t be hers. A little girl, a happy smile on her lips; a caring mother, a loving father. Peace, laughter, two smiling crimson eyes, never-ending tales of happiness, until everything slowly faded to black. Everything was replaced by blood, suffering and separation.

These images felt strange to her. It seemed as though someone had forced these blurry memories inside her mind, and now she had to hold onto them until someone would come and free her from such a burden.

However, that burden was hers alone now.

She’d need days and perhaps even months until all the pieces of the puzzle would come together perfectly, but there was no doubt the little girl she saw was her.

The pain was still here.

“Why does it hurt so much?” Aurelia asked in a weak voice.

Descole’s gaze shifted to Bronev, then to his daughter. “That’s you remembering, isn’t it? Everything you’ve always believed in has been a lie all along. Hearing your name must have triggered it.”

“You imbecile!” Bronev interjected. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!”

He ignored him. “I don’t know how they did it, but it’s not natural. There has to be a trick—the same one Targent used on all the people who seemingly agreed to work here. The last time I saw her, she was almost seven. There’s no way she’d gotten along with their plan, and she wouldn’t have naturally forgotten about us either.”

Layton suddenly remembered something. “Aurelia, when you told us about your abduction, a few days ago, you told us it was recent. It was a clever lie, but that’s not all it was. I have no doubt that you have been abducted, and by them, no less,” he said. “You were too distraught for it to be wrong. That had to be a fragment of your past, something they weren’t able to take from you, except it happened more than ten years ago.”

Aurelia couldn’t hide the tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “I have been abducted… by them?”

Layton nodded. “The memory was so painful to bear that you probably distorted it without even realizing it, believing it couldn’t have anything to do with the ones you call your saviors.”

“The people they—we—abducted…,” she murmured, as if she hoped that way, Bronev wouldn’t be able to get to her. “I remember, I had to render them unconscious. When I would see them again, they’d be willingly working for us. My business here had nothing to do with that, so I have never given it much thought, but now…”

Descole looked at her, ending Layton’s findings. “Then you probably remembered pieces of the time you were abducted because they had to use someone to test their newest device of sorts. You were a pawn, Aurora.”

The sharp pain inside her head didn’t want to let go. Those last twelve years worth of memories refused to go away, as confusion grew even stronger inside her mind. She had no way to draw a line between lies and reality—how could she?

And in spite of everything she’d just been through, there was still one memory that refused to get back to her, however—the biggest memory of all, the missing piece of a puzzle that would allow her to be finally free from years of suffering. The pain she experienced at that moment simply was the result of these never-ending years of wandering in the darkness.

Then, just a few more steps and it’s going to be over…

I need to suffer a bit more and everything ends, right?

“You,” she said, looking at the mysterious masked man. “Who are you? Why did you know all these things about me?” She feared the answer.

“So you really don’t remember anything, huh? I had hoped you could prove me wrong.”

“I’ve grown up believing my name was Aurelia. That’s who I am—or who I thought I was.” She sighed, a tear running down her cheek. “I have always struggled with painful memories—being hurt, tortured, even, without knowing who, why or when it happened. Sometimes, blurry images would come back before my eyes, but I had no idea what they could mean. It all makes sense if I’m not the one I thought I was.”

“You’re Aurora Sycamore. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

The words couldn’t get out. What he was about to say looked like a bad movie scenario, but it was the truth, and the truth always comes out, stronger than any elaborate lie.

“You’re my daughter.”

A pause.

“I lost you twelve years ago and since that day, I’ve always felt that I have died alongside you,” were the words that followed.

But they never crossed his lips.

Aurelia

My father…

My father is alive?

They’ve always told me I was an orphan.

So my father had been looking for me all that time?

How many years has it been?

The sorrow I’ve always felt deep inside my soul—I’ve never knew what or who had caused it—Was it because I had lost him?

Have I always been forced to endure such pain for the sake of a fantasy?

Whatever was the point of all this?

Whatever have they done?

Why can’t I–

(The blood, the suffering, the screams, again…)

Who am I?

Am I really… Aurora Sycamore?

Yes… It rings true.

And this feeling… That man… He looks so familiar. His scent, his body, his clothes… They’re all too familiar.

No matter why the mask is here for, there can only be one truth.

That’s him… That’s my Papa.

“You’re… you’re still alive,” Aurelia muttered, tears uncontrollably rolling down her face.

She wanted to do something, anything—take his hand, feel his warmth against her, apologize, cry until she’d wake up and realize the last few years had been a nightmare. But above all, she wanted to understand. There were still so much missing pieces.

She wasn’t granted that chance.

Bronev spoke up, putting an end to the discussion. In the heat of the moment, Descole had managed to forget he was still standing there. “That could be a nice family reunion, but as you may have forgotten, we have other things to take care of.” He looked severely at Aurelia. “Come, now. We must go.”

“Why?”

She knew that man was the one she’d spent all her time with, the one who was there when she was growing up, and yet he had never seemed more like a stranger than at that precise moment. And she wouldn’t take any more orders from him, no matter how torn she was.

“Why?” Bronev repeated in disbelief. “You’d defy my orders because two strangers told you bits from a past you can’t even remember?”

Aurora looked at the three men, stern face. She started taking off her blue jacket, then a part of her shirt. She also removed her blue lenses, uncovering her crimson eyes. With a swift gesture, quietly, she touched a scar she had on her shoulder. A deep but discreet bullet wound.

When she looked up, her eyes were fixed on the masked man. Another tear rolled down her face.

“I have no reason to doubt them anymore.”

Three men stormed inside her house. She had no idea where they came from, or what business they had with her family. Her mom and dad had always told her to never talk to strangers, but she was the only one in the living-room—she had to do something. All the same, she’d always been told to be brave. Thus she let down the book she was reading.

“Who are you?!” she asked, trying to hide her trembling voice.

“Ah, there’s the girl,” said a scarred man. “Good. Now to find the woman.”

“What do you want? Who are you?” she kept repeating, hoping they would finally acknowledge her.

“We don’t need your help—we’ve got everything we were looking for,” the man said, smiling, looking towards the stairs.

“Mom!”

“Aurora, darling, get out of here.” She looked at the men. “Please don’t hurt my daughter. She’s–”

“She’s innocent, and she’s all you have in this world. Is that what you were about to say?”

She saw her cue and tried to run away, but soon, a strong man caught her. “Not so fast, little one.”

“Mom!” She was crying now.

Her mother started to panic. “What do you want? If it’s money, I can–”

“No, no, nothing so petty as that. We know precisely what we are looking for.” She had not heard that voice before. It came from a beardless man who looked like a lion ready to catch its preys.

The young girl tried to break free of the man’s grip. She screamed. “Please, please! You can have what you want, just leave me and my mom alone and never come back after that!”

“Oh well,” Lion laughed. “Then if we can have what we want, let us not dwell on that.”

Everything happened so fast.

She blinked, and she fell to the floor.

She wondered if she was able to break free all by herself.

Her hopes were shattered the moment she saw the gun the lion was holding.

It was aiming straight at her mom’s heart.

“No!”

She ran as fast as her small legs could carry her, and the next thing she felt was an immense, radiating pain in her shoulder.

Then it all went black.

Aurora was looking at Bronev, no more emotion showing on her face. “You shot me in the shoulder, twelve years ago.”

She got no answer. “I don’t have all the memories yet. But that day, my father was at university. He had a major conference to attend. You and your men came into our house, and you tried to kill my mother, though I had no idea why. I interfered, and being as small as I was, the bullet could only go through my shoulder. I must have fainted from the pain. I was only six, after all.”

Descole kept the story going. “I came home not long after that, only to find my wife dead on the ground. Aurora was nowhere to be seen. You told me how she’d died in a way that was so convincing I never had the possibility to doubt it…until earlier, when Layton read me Aurora’s birth certificate.

“I didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense. I hadn’t seen her body—because I thought she really was too disfigured you had to take care of it. I should have known you wouldn’t be so… nice, ironically,” he scoffed. “You just took her in your care, though I still can’t understand why.

“When I learned my daughter was a part of Targent, the very organization that destroyed our lives, I thought I was going mad. Knowing what I know now, I see everything happened following an insane scheme. But why her, Bronev? And why change her name?”

Bronev, irritated, crossed his arms. “I couldn’t very well allow any old memory to resurface, or all would have been for naught.” A cold smile formed on his lips. “I figured she would be the perfect target. We didn’t expect her to jump in front of her mother—she would have to be shot either way, though—but we still managed to make up a story you’d believe instantly.

“Thus she was taken away from you, and while you thought she was dead, she was raised to become a Targent agent. I couldn’t think of a plot more enjoyable than this one. Many years later, the man who dared defying my orders would realize his precious daughter had become his greatest enemy. You’d be hurt twice with the same weapon. Clever, no?”

A heavy silence fell.

As always, the man had recounted a dark story and Descole’s most painful memory as though nothing mattered. But Descole had to pretend; he’d get his revenge when all of this would be over, when his daughter would finally be safe, no matter the cost. If he’d failed once, he’d make amends until he could forgive himself.

“Ah, and about her name… Well, she’s chosen it herself. Isn’t that right, Aurelia?”

They had been driving for so long she’d eventually lost track of what time it was. Though she didn’t yet understand everything that was going on, she knew better than to engage in their adult conversations. Some of them made no sense. What was that talk of blood, bodies, domination, legacies about?

Still… There was one thing she needed. It was her obsession. Her treasure, in a way. She wouldn’t let go.

No matter how scared she was, she had to ask.

“I want my book… Please… Bring me back my favorite book,” Aurora pleaded, out of breath, hurt.

The man with the scars spoke up. “What’s that nonsense? Do you really think I went to all that trouble just to go back and get you a fucking book?”

“It’s really important to me.”

“I couldn’t care less if it is! You will do as I command, and that’s final.”

“Swift,” a man with a stern voice interjected. “You will all do as I command. You’re not the one in charge here.”

“I–,” he stammered, “Yes, Boss.”

“Tomorrow, you’ll go back to the Sycamores’ house and you’ll fetch that book for her. Don’t risk being seen. These are the orders, and that’s final,” he insisted.

She was relieved.

She’d see Aurelia again.

Maybe holding on to Aurelia would save her.

“I remember now,” Descole said. “Aurelia was the name of your favorite character.”

“Yes. That story was the only thing I had left, so I think that in the end, it became a part of me.”

The collapsing building brought them all back to reality. They’d all managed to escape it during the last few minutes, but now it was threatening to swallow them whole—that machine, who’d slowly started to destroy everything standing on its way.

“We have to go! We can’t stay here,” Layton said.

As she snapped back into reality, Aurora kneeled before Luke and untied him. “You’re free to go, now. Run before you get hurt.”

“Thank you! I knew you’d save me in the end,” he smiled.

The professor held Luke’s hand, and they both started to run towards the exit. He nodded to Descole and his daughter, silently asking them to follow him. Bronev was the only one neither of them cared to save.

“Very well,” Bronev spat, as they were all about to take diverging paths. “We’ve not done discussing this. I’ll come back to get you, this I swear.”

“There’s nothing you can do now, Bronev,” Layton replied before Descole could. Behind them, the last parts of the building fell apart as the giant machine came closer. “We’ll find a way to stop you and you’ll have to pay for all you’ve done.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he replied, just like that day.

When Descole turned around, he noticed Bronev had disappeared behind the machine. He wanted to hope it was the last time he’d ever see the man, but he knew him too well to fear what he’d last told them. He would come back, that much he was sure of. He had no idea what strange scheme he’d try to pull, however.

There are still so many secrets left, but now’s not the time, he thought, gazing upon the gloomy scene of destruction that unfolded before his eyes.

A voice rose. It was Layton’s, ever-so bend on saving everyone. “We have to get everyone to safety!”

The four of them ran for a while until they found a shelter of sorts. Layton and Luke were the firsts to enter, but Descole couldn’t bring himself to follow them, no matter how dangerous it was outside. When he looked next to him, he saw Aurora standing, her crimson eyes that once showed nothing but happiness now tainted by a deep sorrow.

She was nothing like the woman he’d come to know the past few days.

She was not his captive anymore.

She wasn’t a member of Targent anymore, either. The only thing left to remind him of her recent past was the rest of the uniform she couldn’t get rid off—but it didn’t matter.

When he looked straight at her, he could only see Aurora Sycamore, the child he’d always thought he’d lost, the child who was never supposed to have a chance at growing up.

And for the first time in ages, he did what Raymond had always hoped to see.

He’d always vowed he would never allow anything like this to happen, but shattering secrets had revealed themselves, and his life was nothing like it had been the past twelve years.

Slowly, he took his mask off his eyes, exposing sad crimson eyes just like his daughter’s. The only thing left that still linked him to Jean Descole was the costume, as torn apart as it was.

Aurora burst into tears, hit by yet another wave of memories. She fell to her knees, slightly looking up, her glance hoping to meet her father's in spite of the pain.

Des wanted to hold her in his arms, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, heartbroken by the painful sight he had to witness.

After seconds that felt like agonizing minutes, he could hear a broken voice, muffled by the tears.

“I’m so sorry… Papa.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

All That's At Stake

“I’m so sorry… Papa.”

Descole—no, Desmond’s character broke as he saw the tears running down his daughter’s cheeks. Her vulnerability; her scars and her pain, exposed for all to see.

At this precise moment, his stillness had become a thing of the past. He ran towards her—one second that felt like a never-ending journey to him—and held her as hard as he could.

He had been so broken by everything Targent had done to him in the past, his mind was a blur. He couldn’t believe his daughter had been, up until a few minutes ago, a member of their terrible cult. She had been hidden in plain sight all along—withheld alongside his most ferocious enemies, the one he’d sworn he’d take down with him, if need be. For ten years, he had wished his daughter harm, without even knowing it.

And precisely because he was still broken, he was overwhelmed with guilt when he realized he still felt distrust towards her. Towards his flesh and blood.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and ended its course inside Aurora’s hair. He felt relieved that no one had to notice this weakness.

But then the distrust became unbearable. He took one step back and gripped his daughter’s arm, his vision still blurred by the tears he wanted no one to notice. He could not see the look in Aurora’s eyes either. Too many feelings rose inside him to the point it became intolerable, and there was nothing he could do to ease any of it.

Pain met anger.

“Tell me why!” Descole screamed, losing his grip on reality altogether. “Tell me why—how—what have you done?! What have you done to yourself? What have they done to you? How could this…how can this be real?”

Aurora was taken aback. Layton and Luke, on the other hand, stood a few feet away. They carefully tried to not step outside their bounds—this reunion was not one they should interfere with, even though the gentleman wanted to do anything in his power to ease Descole’s obvious suffering. But this was one riddle he had no place dealing with.

Aurora didn’t try to escape. Her tears had stopped falling. “I…Would anything I say be sufficient to ease your pain?” She had the same determined look on her face than her late mother.

How can you, twelve years later, still be able to read right through me, say the things I want to hear?

Those words didn’t came out of his lips, however. “No, it wouldn’t,” he acknowledged instead. He let go of her arm.

Aurora had always been a strong-willed little girl—but now, at eighteen, she was even stronger than before. She nodded. “That’s fair. I can’t begin to imagine the pain you’ve been through, and I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. Everything’s still so…blurry. There are lots of memories I’ve lost and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to reclaim myself,” she admitted.

Des looked inside her eyes. “We could…try again. Begin again.” He wanted to add: I can’t lose you again.

She kept going with her story, as though she was ignoring him. “I would still like to explain myself…recount my tormented lifestory, or at least, the bits and pieces I kept inside me.” Hesitantly, she added, “If you’d let me.”

“I…can’t promise you I won’t lash out again.”

“I have faith in you.”

She smiled, and took a few steps away from him, standing between Layton, Luke and her father. Then her tale began.

“On that fateful day, twelve years ago…I was so scared. I thought I was going to die. I couldn’t think about anything else than Mom’s body not moving before my eyes, the blood—it was too much for me to endure. They took me to some strange place, and the whole ride, I was certain I would end up dead as well. I would see Mommy again because I’d become a star in the night sky too, I thought. I even prayed for it to be true. I didn’t want to live without her.

“I…couldn’t stop thinking about you, either. I feared your reaction when you’d get home. I feared living without the both of you.” She let out a trembling sigh, afraid of what was coming next. “The next thing I remember, I’m sitting alone in a dark room, my arms and legs tied. They said it was for my own good. They said we would change the world together. I spent endless days and nights there, with my dearest book laying at my feet. The only thing I had to remember me of home—until, some days, or maybe some months later, everything was gone.”

Layton was the first one to speak. “So they wiped out your memory entirely, didn’t they?”

“Yes—I mean, I didn’t know about any of this until today, but now there’s no way it can’t be true,” she said, closing her eyes. “I can vaguely remember a very noisy machine, and a lot of strange cables. They would…put them on my head, from time to time. But I was never afforded to get out. I hadn’t seen the light in god knows how long, I’d almost forgotten how it was like to be under the sun.”

Descole, trembling, took his daughter’s hand in his. She held his tighter.

“Until one day, I came out of the room for the first time in three years. It was for my tenth birthday—I could never forget that day, even though now I know the joy I felt that day was fake. Leon—I mean, Bronev—had me believe everyone within Targent was my family. They said my gift was for me to be able to work for them and discover a millennia-old secret. The way they explained it to me…I was thrilled. I had always wanted to dig out secrets the way my father did. And even though I had forgotten all about him, it still stayed within me somehow.

“I had the opportunity to do it in a way that would change the world? It was simply a dream come true. As I had forgotten everything of my previous life, I couldn’t say no. They had done everything in their power for me to be unable to negotiate with them.

“At first, I had simple missions, such as assist some of the younger members with their tasks. I’m a fast-learner, so my responsibilities gradually changed with my age. At only fifteen, I was promoted to one of the most important positions in the group. I was determined to uncover the Azran legacy on my own. And last year, I’d been made Bronev’s right-hand…though not everyone agreed, but they had to say in the matter.” Aurora briefly thought about Swift. He had always been suspicious of her. In the end, he was right to be, she assumed for herself.

“The story you told us, a few days ago, about you being captive…I imagine it was partly a fabrication, partly the truth, no?” Layton asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Their machine—the one who suppressed your memories—started to show its limits. They couldn’t make you forget everything for the rest of your life, but you were too cautious to let anything show in front of them. So you took pieces of what you thought you remembered and you fabricated a story to win us over.” Layton recounted his theory, but his tone of voice made everyone assume he had already found everything out. And they wouldn’t be wrong.

“That’s exactly it, yes,” Aurora nodded. “My mind…began to shatter. I remembered things I thought I’d never been through, and I started to think I wasn’t the one I should be. I didn’t want Targent to learn my doubts, because I knew that I would lose everything then,” she admitted. “I’d indeed been held hostage, but that was twelve years ago. Except I had lost track of the time I had spent with them.”

“Why didn’t you try to run away?” Descole interjected.

“And where would I have gone? I had nothing. Besides, they’re powerful—I can’t escape them. They are my curse. Even now, I…,” she hesitated. “I fear what might happen to me. And to the three of you. Bronev will never let go.”

“We’ll fight him until the bitter end if need be,” Descole said, a vow more than a simple declaration.

“In the end, I had become someone I wasn’t—Aurelia. Somehow, I was entrapped within my own lie, and within their deception. You are the ones who saved me.” She tightened her grip on her father’s hand as she admitted this.

“We—Layton, the boy, and I—will make sure you stay safe.” Descole looked up, and he saw Layton and Luke nodding in unison. Of course they would, the man thought.

Aurora interjected, “Maybe everything would work out better if I were to come back to them and—”

The mere thought of his daughter threw Desmond in a fit of rage once more. He let her hand go. “Not in a million years,” he spat. “They know you can’t be as easily manipulated as you were before. Layton and I made sure of that.”

A strong noise suddenly erupted near them, and with it, their long-awaited reunion came tumbling down. It was as though thunder had struck—only it seemed a hundred percent more frightening. Their shelter would soon be useless, as they would be crushed under its weight if they didn’t choose to move quickly.

“That’s them,” Aurora said. “Their huge machine is out. It’s going to tear everything down until the last bits, until they find the legacy. They know it’s somewhere around here,” she said.

What they—she—had been working on for the past ten years had finally come to an end, and yet she couldn’t feel more hatred towards herself and the men who forced her to achieve their dream. Their never-ending dream of destruction.

“No one is safe. We have to do everything in our power to allow the most people to find shelter.”

“We’ll get to it,” Layton replied. “Descole?”

It was more an obligation than a request; nonetheless, now that everything had shifted dramatically, he couldn’t flee. He would take his revenge in a different way.

Descole nodded, “Of course I’ll help.”

On the count of three, the four of them left their shelter in a hurry. They immediately looked up: the sky looked like it was set alight, as though fireworks were being launched. A celebration of sorts , Aurora scoffed. They’re celebrating their incoming victory no matter who dies in the process.

A celebration, but a dark one indeed. Houses were starting to burn, and people called for help. Some people seemed hurt, lying on the cold grounds. It was a heavy sight to behold. Even though they all wanted to do something to help, they didn’t know where to start. But suddenly, when they were about to shout orders and help the most vulnerable people, a man came lurking behind them. He was not afraid.

It was him, once again.

He came back when they least expected it, like a shadow no one could ever get rid of, a never-ending reminder of a past that kept on haunting them.

He’s not afraid, but neither will I be this time, Descole thought.

“What do you want?”

Descole’s voice stopped everyone else dead in their tracks. They all came face-to-face with Leon Bronev.

“As I said, this is not over yet. I fulfilled my promise: I came back to get you.”

Aurora interjected, for the first time. “Aren’t there other more important missions you should be dealing with right now? Why would you even leave them in their hands to find us? You know as well as I do that we were the only ones who could achieve something properly.” For this moment, she had almost reverted to her old self—or was it her previous one? She’d had too many selves lately. But now the determination in her eyes had a different meaning.

“Ah, my darling Aurelia,” Bronev scoffed. “You know, that’s why I’m here, most of all. Your wit and your intelligence were a serious advantage, and I never had any intention to let that go. Always so suspicious and hard-willed, to a fault.”

“Your dream is finally set into motion, and now you’re lecturing me on my character?”

“All these years,” Bronev continued, “I’ve wondered what I would do if such a day ever came. And the answer quickly became clear. I would take my revenge.” His look darkened.

Descole scoffed. “Revenge? You? Don’t make me laugh. As if you had any reason to!”

“It’s funny, I was certain you would have something to say…Descole,” Bronev said, contempt both in his voice and in his eyes. “I have actually thought about a dozens ways to take my so-called revenge. And I’ve reached a conclusion. Finding a way to get your little group to fall apart, for starters.”

At that moment, Descole’s look darkened as well. Sadly, he’d known Bronev’s methods all his life. And if he was right, what he was implying would have grave consequences. But he wouldn’t let him win…he couldn’t.

“You know, Descole, I think I found the only way I have left to get to you. Hurting your—”

“Don’t—!” Descole cried out.

Descole couldn’t hide the anguish on his face. Multiple thoughts were dancing inside his head, fueling once more his desire—his need—for revenge, but none of the things he’d believed he would end up saying came out of his mouth. Instead, he clenched his fists and took one step forward, so he could stand closer to Layton. He wanted to believe he could protect him from the pain Bronev’s words would spark inside him. He wanted to be his little brother’s shield—a role that had never been befitting of him anyways.

As he opened his mouth to speak again, he noticed he was too late. He was no shield.

“…Hurting your brother to get to you has to be the brightest choice. Myself, I thought it would be splendid. Alas, it couldn’t be the other way around—Hershel Layton doesn’t remember a thing, so my actions are… limited. It’s such a sorry sight to behold.”

If sentences could become weapons, this would have to have been the second bomb dropped in less than an hour. Bronev was simply that—the kind of man who was able to drop bombs while laughing.

The professor, on the other hand, looked like he had just seen a ghost. “Your… brother?” he repeated, dumbfounded.

Bronev had been right. He smiled. “Here, you just proved it for me.”

“Bronev, you spineless fool, how dare you—”

And the next second, as though Bronev tried to make his point very clear, he approached Descole and hit him with his knee. The pain jolted inside the no-longer-masked man, and he fell to the floor in a groan.

“I could keep going.” A laugh, once again.

“No…You mean…,” Layton blinked, hoping it would be a nightmare. But he wasn’t afforded that chance. “So that’s…”

Layton

In the span of this whole investigation, since he’d crossed paths with Descole once more, he had tried to hate him. Or, at the very least, hold a grudge against him. He had hurt Luke, after all. But he had been unable to be resentful.

And then there had been the matter of those scattered memories—they had started to flash through his mind when they’d been fighting in Misthallery. It had gotten stronger when Descole bid him farewell, and then it all evaporated again, as if it had never been there.

Two children, laughing together, in a foggy city. Foggy memories of a foggy city.

Two dark figures, and then a painful goodbye.

When he had been embroiled in Ambrosia’s mystery, months later, it had resurfaced again. As their blades crossed in the night sky, one thought never left him—Why does this man’s touch feel so familiar somehow? And why is he so determined to bring me down? What have I ever done to him?

But his questions stayed unanswered.

And they had awoken once more, with more intensity than before, when they were trapped inside Targent’s base an hour before.

But it seemed that now was the time for him to have the answers he’d longed to find—only now, had he known what it would bring, he would probably have chosen to avoid the truth entirely. Had he known…and had he gotten a chance.

“So that’s what…who those flashes were about,” Layton said, emotionless. His whole mind was shattered, but his body did not reflect the truth. It was as though they had separated.

Descole, still on the ground, grunted. “Bronev, you will pay for this!”

“Oh, really now? Because I certainly didn’t see your last vows of vengeance coming to fruition.” A kick in the guts, again. “You’re a failure. I can’t expect a failure to go through with even such a simple plan.”

Des was on the verge of letting everything out, of lowering his guard, for the first time in ten-plus years. It hurt—the pain of having found two of his most loved ones again, the pain of having to suffer so much humiliation in front of them. The pain of having his mistakes exposed for all to see. It hurt so much. But now wasn’t the time to let go; he wouldn’t afford Bronev this pleasure.

Targent’s leader, on the other hand, still had plenty to say. “Are you ashamed to have failed your brother once again? Do you hold a grudge against me because I threw your plans to the wind, and revealed that final twist, while you hoped to take it to your grave? Hah,” he scoffed. “But it’s too late now, boy.”

Layton interjected, “I don’t understand. How can this be true? I’ve never—I’ve always grown up alone.”

Descole managed to get up and returned to his brother’s side. “You don’t remember anything. It’s to be expected. But sadly, that’s the truth.”

The professor looked over to him, and for the first time in thirty years, their eyes met, without disguises.

“I wish it had came out differently, but it’s true. I’m your older brother.”

The words resonated inside his mind for so long he had lost track of time.

“I’m your older brother.”

“Brother.”

He had a brother—and his brother was Jean Descole. The man who had hurt his friends, the man who had tried to kill him, the man who had done everything in his power to interfere with his plans for the last two years.

That man he shared blood with.

“You were the boy I was separated from when I was young, weren’t you?” Layton asked.

“You remember?”

“Not clearly, no. But that’s the memory that comes back to me the most often. A boy, whose face I cannot see, whose voice I cannot hear. I felt like I loved deeply that boy, and the next thing I know, he’s gone. It’s a recurring nightmare. In time, it transformed into a memory of sorts.”

“You could say it’s both a nightmare and a memory. I have had the same for thirty years.”

Layton felt like he had lost the last thirty years of his life. He looked like there was something he wanted to say, but nothing came out. He felt lost, mistreated, but above all, he was utterly powerless.

A collapsing building came crashing down a few feet behind them—they had to spring back into action. But Layton was as powerless as he was motionless. Still trapped inside his own hazy memories, inside this never-ending nightmare.

It was as though he was forced to relive the night when he met Randall again—except that time, his whole notion of life had been shattered. Finding out that your best friend who had disappeared eighteen years ago had, one, actually been alive the whole time, and, two, turned evil and sought vengeance was one thing. That was something he could work with, no matter how difficult it might have been at first. He would grieve, and at the same time, he would help his friend. ‘Twas always thus.

But finding out he’d been lied to for thirty years? That was something completely different. He had lost his brother, for a reason he had yet to comprehend, and nothing would bring back those missing years. Nothing would bring back a bond that had long since been severed.

But he had no time to think. He felt trapped inside his own mind and body. He had to move, he had to save all those people. But who would save himself?

“There are still so many things I have yet to understand,” Layton snapped, uncharacteristically so. “I—I won’t…no, I can’t keep going like this!”

“You’ll learn. You’ll understand,” Descole replied, sneaking a glance towards the ever-smiling Bronev. “But now’s not the time. Come on!”

“Please, be my guests. Try to avoid a tragedy that’s already been set into motion. I’ll watch,” the old man said before leaving. He had completed his mission.

The chaos accelerated; it had no intention of stopping. The chaos within their hearts—and the chaos unfolding before their eyes. They had every intention of addressing both, one at a time.

The three of them ran towards the plaza, where the most sorrowful of sights was taking place.

There was running, crying while horror filled the air and the voices of people who were trying by all means to escape a nightmare which had suddenly collapsed on their heads. They were unaware that it could be at the price of their lives—still, anything that could provide them a semblance of security would do.

Others were just standing there, watching from afar while it all unfolded. What could they have gained by trying to escape anyway? They knew all too well that one day, a calamity such as this one would befall them. So they simply decided to wait for their deaths to happen. They had seen, and feared, and prayed too much. What they needed to do was pray one more time and just wait for it to occur, for their lives to end.

Disaster was slowly poisoning the atmosphere and nothing could take it back. No matter how much everyone wished for a change, the engine had started and no one had enough skill to stop it before it was too late. In truth, all had begun months, even years prior to what they had to witness. Nobody had been able to notice anything—not before the professor was called for help.

And there he was. Standing in the middle of the city of Ashburg, wondering if, for the first time in his life, he was on the verge of failing. Could Hershel Layton truly be helpless before all the suffering people had asked him to get them rid of only five days earlier?

He was not alone. Surrounded by Descole, Luke and Aurora, who shared the same thoughts as him. The four of them stood out—they didn’t look terrified. They wished they could find a way to prevent the massacre, the pain and then restore peace. It was orchestrated “in the name of peace”, or at least that’s what they had been told to believe. But at what cost would it finally be over? Can hope still stand when everything seems lost?

Hershel Layton had promised them, though. “I am going to save your city. Everything is going to be alright. I demand that you trust me—I know you all can,” was all he could manage when he had to put on a brave face in front of all to keep up appearances. But scared though he may have been, a promise was a promise, and a gentleman never betrays a trust.

As soon as he’d pronounced these words, people came running towards him. The professor started to give instructions, helped by Aurora who knew the city better than him. They’d try and direct the largest number of people possible to safety.

They settled on a plan—Descole and Layton would stay together while Aurora would go with Luke. They found that winning would probably be easier that way, though winning could be considered a strong and unbefitting word given the situation. Still, they were engaged in a fight. A fight against evil, against their futures. They had to fight to ensure people would come out of it alive.

“Professor,” Aurora shouted, “I’ll bring Luke in a nearby city and then I’ll take care of the western part of the town. You two take care of the rest! We’ll meet up when everything is over,” she said, a hint of fear in her voice.

“Usually, I wouldn’t let a young woman and a child stay on their own in such dangerous circumstances,” Layton replied, “But that’s the best decision to make. I have faith. Please take good care of Luke.”

“Thank you, Professor. And I will,” Aurora said.

Descole interjected, holding up his hand. “How can I—”

“Trust me? Is that what you were about to say? Please… Don’t do this to me.”

He sighed. “I know, I’m sorry.” Her look reminded him of Annabell. He hadn’t the strength left to fight.

“I know it’s been hard on you and for this, I truly am sorry, but I swear…all this misery is over now. We’ll get all the time of the world to talk about that later, when this crazy plan of theirs will be over with. For now, you really have to trust me. I want to save them as much as you both do.” She offered him a shy smile.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her—how he was scared to death just thinking about the possibility he might lose her again, how he wanted to do everything in his power to take them down as well, how the last twelve years had been so unbelievably hard. Yet, he said nothing. He smiled, and as though she were never here, she was immediately gone.

There were so many things she wanted to say to him—how she was scared to death just thinking about the possibility she might be killed out there, how she didn’t want to face Bronev and yet had a duty to—for her sole chance at atonement lied here—but she could voice none of her fears. She smiled, nodded, quietly whispered Thank you, and then she was gone.

Aurora

She had no intention of betraying them. Actually, she had every intention to win. She wanted to save the most, as though it had been a contest from the start. She wanted to show them they had been right to put their trust in her again after everything she’d done.

She wanted to ease her father’s pain, even if a little. Nothing would erase those years, of course, but if only she could ease the pain of having been betrayed by his own daughter. No matter what state of mind she’d been in at the time, no matter what memories remained, she felt it was her biggest responsibility yet.

So she did exactly as she had planned to. She drove Luke outside of Ashburg, and when she made sure he was safe, she came back in a hurry.

An hour later, the city’s destruction was far from over. She feared for the professor and her father’s lives, but she had to stay focused. If anything, she was the most vulnerable one.

She had managed to give a hand to many people. It wasn’t enough to make her feel pleased with herself, but at the very least, she was content. There was a hint of pride, too. She was able to help people. She could do something else than plot the destruction of people’s lives—her true self hadn’t been that far buried.

But this would not last.

As she was about to run in another direction, she came face-to-face with a huge machine, some kind she hadn’t worked with often. She was perceptive enough to guess it was highly dangerous, though.

“I should have known you would come back,” she said. “My father was right. It’s impossible to get rid of you.”

There wasn’t any malice in Bronev’s eyes anymore. Pure and utter anger was the only thing that remained. “Fortunately, getting rid of you is far more easier, Aurelia.”

“What…?”

“Do you know what that machine is for?”

“Please don’t take me for a fool. It’s an excavating—”

“An excavating machine, yes,” he said coldly. “With that, I can dig deep in the ground and—”

She sighed. “Look at you, lecturing me. Again. You do seem to enjoy lecturing people when they’ve done something that doesn’t follow with your strategies. Then again, I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise. I’ve seen you do it hundreds of times.”

“You betrayed us, Aurelia. You betrayed me,” Bronev spat. “You’ve been with me long enough to know that doesn’t go unpunished.”

“So what? You’re going to kill me?”

“You’re too sensitive for your own good. Two strangers suddenly come before you and your whole perception of right and wrong shifts. There cannot be a world with such feeble-minded individuals.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Aurora still had faith.

She had faith in her father, who would come back to her later and forgive her.

She had faith in the professor, who would help her becoming a better woman in spite of what she’d done willingly.

But most of all, she had faith in Leon Bronev. Twelve years in his care was too long a time for her to suppress their bonds, even when she thought she was able to bury them entirely. He had been a father figure for her for too long. The ugly truth hadn’t have enough time to sink in yet.

And so she didn’t see the final strike coming.

Her faith had been her weakness.

She fell to the ground with considerable force when she was hit with stones Bronev had pushed towards her.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. She was too busy deciphering the look on his face to look elsewhere—she didn’t have time to run.

Bronev, on the other hand, did.

Bronev, on the other hand, felt no such weakness.

He left, not a care in the world.

He would kill two birds with one stone. One, Aurora. Two, he would find the Azran legacy.

Layton and Descole

About one hour later, there was barely anyone left, save for the people driving the machines in the distance. The two of them hoped Aurora had been able to find shelter as well as the people she’d taken care of.

Descole, however, had come to a stop. Debris had struck him and reopened his wound—the one he sustained upon his latest, and last, battle with Layton. The bleeding didn’t look like it would stop any time soon.

But Layton was too focused on bringing everyone to safety. They couldn’t stop now, or they would end up dead.

“Descole, you have to keep going, please—we’re almost there.”

With a loud noise, he fell to the ground. “I don’t think…I’m able to walk much longer,” he admitted, out of breath.

Here’s Descole — compelled to downplay his struggles for the rest of his days , Layton thought. He looked like he was hovering on the brink of death, and yet, he still wanted people to think he could walk .

“I’ll carry you,” Layton said, and it was not a request.

The man was undoubtedly heavy, but it would have to do. There was another shelter in front of them—like a gift from the sky, to host two broken souls. In a few minutes, they reached it and they felt a semblance of safety again.

As soon as they came to a stop, Layton kindly put his brother on the floor, tending to his wounds as best as he could. Still, he could do nothing to ease the pain, and he feared Descole was about to pass out.

“Descole, I know I have no right to ask, but I have to be selfish just this once—what happened? Can you tell me everything? Can you tell me…my lifestory?”

He wanted to add Before it’s too late, but even he was too fearful of what harsh reality this would mean. Would everyone even make it out of it alive?

“It’s the least…I can do,” Descole acknowledged.

And so it began. A deep, dark story.

The story of two young boys who led the happiest lives until everything crumbled and they were too young to know better.

The story of the youngest, Theodore, who was put in another family’s care to heal, to try and lead a calm life.

The story of the oldest, Hershel, who fought throughout his life the people who had taken everything from them. Then Hershel had to become Desmond Sycamore, but the pain and the losses were still there.

Until the pain had scarred him so deeply he lost sight of what he was supposed to do; what he’d sworn he’d protect, all those years ago.

They had been torn apart—both emotionally and fraternally—and they feared they would never recover.

Hershel Layton was too weak to hold a grudge anymore; his façade was no more. As Descole slowly closed his eyes, worn out by the pain, Layton reassured him, even though it felt like he was the only one he was trying to calm down.

Until his consciousness slowly started to fade away as well.

In spite of the promise he had fought so hard to honor, everything seemed to be in vain. If he was gone, who would make sure everyone was fine? Who would save Ashburg? Was this puzzle too hard for him? After all, it had threatened to swallow him whole more often than not.

His prayers wouldn’t be heard this time.

His mind went blank, but within him stayed a profound feeling of despair.

Despair at knowing he’d failed.

Despair at knowing he’d lost his whole life and now it was too late to start again.

They both passed out, arms around each other.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Heritage

When Hershel awoke, it felt like hours had passed. His whole body was sore from the pain of having stayed so uncomfortably on the ground for so long. It took a while for him to be able to stand, and when he finally did, he remembered everything.

His fight with the man he’d forgotten—his brother. How he was hurt, how Hershel was the one to hurt him. For once, it had been the other way around. Usually, Descole—Hershel?—did all the hurting. He was the man who had fought for nearly two years against him, after all. He had muddled in his past, unearthed secrets and lies and pain that he’d never have thought still existed otherwise. He had hurt Luke, his friend’s son; he had seemingly tried to kill him. But what for? Even though everything was revealed now, and he had started to get to understand him better, all felt vain.

And now, the man, his brother, was still lying on the ground, unconscious. There was still blood dripping from his shoulder.

Now was not the time to be lost in thought, trying to understand a vengeance that he could never empathize with.

He got down on his knees, shaking Des gently.

“Descole...please, wake up,” he said, a hint of worry in his voice. He could still see his chest rise and fall. He breathed a sigh of relief. “We have to get out of here before we end up dead.”

A few more shakes, and Descole grunted. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He seemed as lost as Layton had been a couple of minutes earlier. But the pain reminded him his nightmare was real.

“It hurts,” he breathed, uncharacteristically. “My shoulder,” he added, as if there were so many things that harmed him that he had to clarify his point.

“I’m going to change your bandages. Hold still.”

Layton tore another piece of clothing, removed the old one stained with fresh blood, and managed to make another makeshift bandage. He wasn’t confident—would Des try to fight him again? He was in such a fragile state, there was no telling what he could do next. But much to his surprise, he didn’t move an inch, he did what he was told, perhaps for the first time since they’d met again.

“We have to leave this place, and get you to a hospital as soon as we can, but—”

Descole interrupted him firmly. “First, I need to get back to my daughter and get her away from this mess. I have a strange feeling.”

“I can’t hear any noise,” Layton remarked. “Perhaps they changed their tactics.”

“Doubtful. Rather, they already destroyed everything and we’re too late. Come on, we have to go!”

Descole rose to his feet a bit too quickly and wobbled before Layton caught him just in time. “Take it slow, Descole. I need us to both get out of here...alive,” he said.

There was a strange feeling inside him. Without thinking, he’d said he wanted Des to be alive. He needed him to be alive. A long-lost taste of what brotherly love was supposed to be about hit him. It had been just a few hours—or perhaps even less—since he had gotten him back, and yet he had already forgotten how resentful he used to be towards him.

When they got out of the cave they’d taken shelter in, the atmosphere was still as dark and ominous as it had been previously. But the village was silent. An enormous graveyard, Layton feared. There were debris everywhere, and even though there was no one screaming anymore, it was obvious many people had been hurt by Targent’s machine. Perhaps some of them had died, even though he didn’t want to indulge in these thoughts for now. He had been selfish twice in a day—could he really be called a gentleman anymore?

“I need to go back to the forest first, but I have to go alone—I’ll call for help on your behalf,” Layton stated, as if to make amends, to forget the troublesome thoughts that were dancing inside his brain.

Descole scowled. “There’s no way I’m going to leave you alone out there, Layton. I’m not on the verge of dying. I can accompany you.”

“What good would that do in your condition, Descole?” That was more a statement than it was a question.

But Descole wasn’t ready to give up yet. “What good would you going alone in a place full of murderers do?”

“I can take care of myself. I can’t put you in harm’s way once more.”

“I did that,” he pointed to his own shoulder, “to myself. If they try to eliminate you and you’re on your own, you won’t stand a chance, and you know that. I can handle the pain. What’s more, I told you that I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Fine,” Layton conceded.

The two men kept on walking towards the forest. Their shelter had been in a secluded place, near the outskirts of the town; the path wouldn’t be long, thankfully. But what truths would be waiting for them there? Neither of them had any idea. They could only brace themselves for the worst.

And it looked like the worst was already waiting for them, just a few feet away from the forest entrance. There was someone on the ground lying face down; they weren’t moving.

Descole froze.

The silhouette had blonde hair. A special shade of blonde—one he only knew too well. They—no, she—wore Targent’s uniform.

Layton had kept on walking, unaware that his brother wasn’t following close behind. A few more steps and it hit him as well: Aurora was lying face down on the ground, unconscious.

It was more a terrible, terrible roar, anger mixed with helplessness, than it was a scream. It broke the stillness in the atmosphere.

“Aurora!”

So that was what the bad feeling he’d had was about.

Despite the pain, despite the blood, despite the struggles that were still tormenting him, Des ran to his daughter’s side. In less than a second, he was kneeling beside her, almost throwing himself at her feet. Unsteadily, he ran his hands across her body, trying to figure out if everything was lost, or if there was still hope. He shook her, but nothing came out—not a sound, not a single movement. His hands were trembling terribly, but he still managed to put two of his fingers on her neck.

A pulse.

He breathed out a sigh of relief; along with it fell a single tear that rolled down Aurora’s neck.

“Aurora, please, wake up!” He wasn’t himself. He didn’t even know who himself was in the first place, but at that moment, he’d lost all semblance of composure. He didn’t care what sights Layton had to witness, he didn’t care that he would be weeping like a child, he didn’t care that his actions had nothing to do with the mysterious and cold persona he’d built for himself along the years. Right now, he would be Desmond once again, and he would have to go through the terrible pain he’d experienced twelve years ago.

Aurora—his daughter, his precious daughter, who he just got back—lay unconscious on the cold, hard ground and they had to do something, they had to save her, they needed to get the hell out of there before she dies, and oh my god no aurora please you can’t do that you can’t die you can’t—

Layton’s voice surprised him. “Take a hold of yourself, Descole!” He had been thinking aloud, and he was in such a sorry state that he couldn’t think straight anymore. No matter how difficult the sight was, Hershel took the matter in his own hands, and ran to call for help. He had to be quick, or else, he feared, Descole’s mind would shatter, a thousand broken pieces thrown to the wind, never to be found again.

When he got back a few moments later, Des still hadn’t moved an inch. The tears had stopped falling, but he was holding Aurora, staring blankly with lifeless eyes, swollen from crying.

Des managed to murmur, “I’m not losing her again.”

“You won’t—help is on the way. She seems hurt, but they will take care of her and she’ll be fine after a long rest.”

In truth, Layton was worried. He feared he was lying: Aurora’s state was worrying, even though her heart was still beating. He had no way to be sure of what happened, but he could deduce from the scene that she’d been hurt with some kind of debris, even though the situation as a whole was still unclear. Was it on purpose? Was it an accident? It was hard to say, but he had his doubts. He prayed he’d be wrong, for once.

Besides, lying wasn’t what a gentleman does. Obviously he hadn’t really acted like a gentleman these past few days, but acting gentlemanly was what 90% of his personality had been about for the past nine years. Was there still a point in being proud of who he was if his actions didn’t match his image?

The ambulance and the police came quicker than Layton had expected them to, but for Descole, the wait had been agonizing. How much time had he spent kneeling on the floor? How much time had passed since Aurora had fallen unconscious? If she’d been hit five minutes ago, there was still a chance she wouldn’t sustain grave injuries. If it had been ten minutes…or even worse, an hour…

“Please, tell me she’s going to be okay,” Descole pleaded with them, and he was surprised to hear such a tone of voice coming out of his mouth. Anything to get his focus on something else than his lingering worries and anxiety.

“We have to evacuate her and take her to a nearby hospital as soon as possible,” was the reply. Unnecessary, useless, not even close to the point. Descole was about to take his anger out on them, but Layton squeezed his arm, so at the last minute, he decided against it.

The professor interjected, “Please take care of my...brother,” he hesitated, “He’s injured as well.”

He didn’t say much; he hoped they wouldn’t ask for more details, because he had no intention of telling the emergency services that he’d fought with the man he just called “brother” a few hours ago, hurting him in the process—though, in truth, his brother had been the one to initiate the fight, but still—and thankfully, instead of trying to figure out the reason why, one man shouted something to the other, and the next moment a few more came and took care of Des’s shoulder.

A few moments later, his shoulder had been disinfected and a brand-new, solid bandage replaced the old piece of Layton’s jacket. Part of the team of the EMS had left with Aurora, as quickly as they could.

“It’s going to be enough for now, but you have to receive some medical attention as soon as possible,” a man of the medical team observed.

“We’ll do just that,” Layton said, nodding. Both of them turned, as if they were trying to make the other understand they had a lot of other places to be right now. Layton and Descole had to keep on moving, while the others had to run through the village. And both their missions shared a common thread: they had to save people as quickly as possible.

It had been difficult to find a way to prevent Des from giving up altogether. His daughter was gone, though he had just reunited with her after twelve years of suffering. He had been hurt by his own anger, and now all of his past life had been laid bare. The pain wasn’t as strong as it had been the months following Annabell and Aurora’s death, but he couldn’t tell whether that was because this was not painful enough, or because he was too numb to the pain to tell otherwise. One of his first thoughts had been to call for Raymond, but no one knew about him, and he couldn’t just run away duringsuch a moment to find him and sob like a lost child.

“Are you sure you’re able to accompany me?” Layton asked his brother, while they were walking towards the forest.

Descole’s voice was still weak. “I have to. I promised myself I would get to the bottom of this investigation.”

Layton wanted to tell him how he feared what would happen next could shatter him once more, but he didn’t find the strength to. He didn’t want to be the one to drop the bomb anymore; he had done so more than enough now. Somehow, he believed Descole knew what lay ahead—he wouldn’t have to remind him. So, courtesy of him, he swiftly changed the subject, as was now his specialty in dire times, when the truth was too much to bear.

“There was a strange path in the forest a few days before,” Layton stated. “I had been meaning to investigate, but then you showed up, and the rest is history.”

Descole scoffed. “Perhaps it would have been better for me not to show.”

“No. I think your help in this will be invaluable.”

Descole wanted to reply, “If I didn’t show up, then Aurora would still be well right now,” but he thought better of it at the last moment. Who could guarantee Aurora’s safety now? He still didn’t know what had happened, but deep down, he wanted to believe his presence had nothing to do about it. Hadn’t he been involved with this, perhaps Aurora wouldn’t be at the hospital, but Aurora wouldn’t exist anymore. There would simply be Aurelia, one of Targent’s members, and alas, a proud one. He could have fought this girl who’d betrayed everyone—including his brother, though he would never admit to it—and he could have injured her. And Bronev would still be the mastermind. So, what good would not showing up have done?

“Let’s get moving,” Descole replied instead.

A few minutes later, they reached the insides of the forest, where everything had started to crumble, both figuratively and materially. Layton found that the path he’d observed was still where he remembered it to be, though some fallen branches had obscured his view. When they both threw them away, they discovered everything was shattered along the path. A hatch had been broken where it probably ended before. It revealed another row of stairs, leading far below the ground, to a strange and yet familiar-looking device. Layton figured this had been revealed because of the criminal excavations Targent had been doing. No human could have broken such a hatch open.

To his surprise—and displeasure—he noticed the device was somehow similar to the one he’d had to work with after Randall’s fall in the endless pit, nineteen years ago. Naturally, it also looked like the last puzzle in Monte d’Or. The Azran are involved, there is no denying it anymore. So we’re close to the end. For a moment, his mind wandered to Randall and how he would be so glad to witness such a discovery, but he managed to chase these thoughts away.

He said, “I know how this works. The Azran can be surprisingly crafty with their puzzles, but I’ve never failed to work them out before.”

Descole shuddered upon hearing the word Azran, the one civilization responsible for tearing apart his family. Even though he’d known they were involved all along, it still hurt to hear, like a constant reminder of what he’d lost. “Let me know how I can help,” he offered, in spite of everything.

Hershel added, “This is the most difficult one I’ve yet seen, but we’ll be able to work it out.”

It took roughly fifteen minutes for them to crack the puzzle open. It slowly opened and revealed a dark, deep cave decorated with Azran patterns. The air felt cold and damp; they had entered a place a thousand years old, no doubt. The professors were astounded: how could such a place still stand after so many years, with so many human actions just beneath it? They shared a look, wordlessly communicating their disbelief.

But such disbelief was even greater when they noticed a single silhouette standing in the middle of the room. The air they breathed let out trails in the cold air. A few more steps, and they recognized who it was.

Leon Bronev. He slowly turned around to meet their accusing gazes.

“Bronev!” Descole spat, “What have you done to my daughter?!”

“Such accusing words,” Bronev replied. “Would you please lower your voice? We are in a sacred space here.”

Hershel was baffled. When he entered the cave, he almost believed Bronev had adopted a calmer demeanor. The way he stood in the middle of such a miracle, it had seemed like every ounce of violence had left his soul. But of course it wouldn’t be so easy.

“You are the one who broke everything down to gain access to it, and yet you claim this is a sacred space?” Layton’s words echoed in the room. When the professor heard what came out of his mouth, he was surprising his voice could convey such bitterness.

“Ah, Hershel Layton. I’m glad to see you alive and well, though I can’t say that for everyone,” he replied.”

“You’re the one who hurt my daughter,” Descole uttered. It wasn’t a question anymore. He confessed.

“Your daughter,” Bronev started, “was the one to hurt us first. Twelve years of flawless service, and the moment you show up, she threatens to make our plan fail. I just couldn’t stand idly by, watching her, you understand.”

“What happened?” Layton asked. He did his best to not let his emotions show. He had to be the one to keep a cool head.

“Let’s say she was struck by a blunt object,” Leon Bronev admitted. He seemed to take pleasure in inflicting pain upon others. “If she’s lucky, she may yet live.”

Layton had hoped all along that his hunch was wrong. Aurora’s state was an accident, it wasn’t on purpose. Had it been on purpose, it would be attempted murder. And yet… This man before them…

Descole growled, “How dare you! She idolized you, unaware of who you are to her.”

A silence. Layton felt the atmosphere getting more tense.

The old man shrugged. “She doesn’t need to know.”

“So you didn’t even tell her,” Des said. “I was hoping maybe you’d prove me wrong. You’re a coward, just like you have always been. You became what you swore to fight all these years ago.”

Hershel was utterly lost. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed there was more to Descole and Bronev’s relationship than met the eye, but now there was no denying it. The more he spent thinking about it, the more obvious it became, and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Of course they’d known each other for a long time—no sane human being could manifest such hatred towards someone they’d just met. There was something more between them, something buried that deserved to stay buried. But it wouldn’t. It couldn’t be buried anymore.

Descole cast a look towards his brother, as if to say I’m sorry for what’s about to happen, but sorrys would never be enough to mend a broken soul.

And then, moments before one of the men opened their mouth again, the truth struck Layton. Right on cue, he understood.

“…Hurting your brother to get to you has to be the brightest choice. Myself, I thought it would be splendid. Alas, it couldn’t be the other way around—Hershel Layton doesn’t remember a thing, so my actions are… limited. It’s such a sorry sight to behold.”

Hurting your brother.

Hershel Layton doesn’t remember a thing.

…Doesn’t remember a thing…

…Your brother…. doesn’t remember…

There was only one way Leon Bronev could be aware of such things.

And it probably was the worst answer possible.

Leon Bronev was their father.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Legacies

“You’re my father,” Layton breathed, taking in the shock of such an earth-shattering news.

Bronev scoffed. There were a lot of other reactions he could have had, but he chose to scoff? Descole was about to intervene when Layton gestured for him to stay back.

“So you still lacked a part of the story,” the old man replied. “But now everything has been laid bare and we can keep on going with our final discoveries.”

“Is this a game to you?” Layton asked, trying to conceal the trembling of his hands. The tone of his voice came out as more harsh than he’d cared for it to be; it was unlike him. But even a gentleman couldn’t keep a straight face at all times, no matter what he would say to others.

“A game! No, it is not a game. It’s the consecration of more than thirty years of research. Can’t you feel everything that’s at stake? Don’t you want to learn what kind of secrets the Azran have been withholding from us for thousands of years?”

“You speak as though nothing else matters apart from the Azran,” Layton observed.

“Because that’s true. I sacrificed everything for that moment, and I know it’s going to be worth it.”

“Sacrificing your family on the altar of research was worth it?” Descole uttered. “I knew you were far gone, but somewhere deep within, I’d hoped that, at the end of it all, you’d have regained some semblance of reason.” He scoffed, mocking his own stupidity. “Serves me right for believing there was still a small glimmer of hope to have.”

Descole would never expose further his thoughts. At the very least, not in front of his long-lost father and brother. But what he’d just spoke was enough for Hershel to understand the pain inside him. Or at the very least, to imagine what he must be feeling. He’d been through such trials throughout his life—trials no one should ever have to face. If anything, the last few days had shown him that Fate wasn’t planning on leaving him alone to mend his wounds. There had never been any hope of recovering anyway. Dealing with the pain of having lost two loved ones twelve years ago; getting closer and closer to the truth after such a long investigation; tracking a girl he thought was another mastermind of the whole affair and kidnapping her only to learn she was her daughter who had in fact never been dead, but rather, been raised by his mad grandfather. He longed to stop at that, but there were still so many other examples and his brain would never let him live that down.

Descole had spent so many years thinking there was nothing he wanted more than to take revenge on Bronev. And now he could. The old man wouldn’t even notice him coming, so absorbed in the Azran legacy as he was. He’d take out his sword, pierce his heart from behind, and everything would be over.

But this would not bring Annabell back. This would not guarantee Aurora’s safety. This would not give him back thirty lost years of his life.

Still, he took out his weapon anyway, in a swift ruffling of fabric. Bronev’s voice echoed in the large cave but he was unable to hear what he said. He was still going on and on about how wonderful this legacy would be, only to be listened to by Layton. Des heard nothing more than distant voices, fading out, slowly.

In his head, he was somewhere else. He was all alone, trapped in a dark cave, deprived of water, food, and of a way out. The cold would freeze his joints, and soon, he’d find himself painfully departing from this world. All his inner demons were coming to see him, to mock him, to ridicule him at the end of his pitiful life. To remind him of everything he’d lost, to make him understand he was the only one to blame. Was he really? He had no strength left to reply. He couldn’t get the words out; his lips wouldn’t move. He tried to reach out a hand, hoping someone would come and get him out of this hell, but he could only hear more laughs.

A dark figure, who looked like his father, approached him and stood so close to him that he was unable to breathe. He was suffocating. A few seconds later, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, soon spreading to the rest of his body. So he’d been stabbed. He used his last remaining strength to look down at where the pain was coming from. He could recognize that terrible, terrible sensation; this hot, sticky liquid on his hands, quickly covering his clothes and the ground. Surely Death would take him into his embrace in a few seconds, and then all this pain and resistance would be forever forgotten. He closed his eyes, waiting for his life to end. But he could only hear a man screaming.

At this moment, everything faded into view. The cave, the Azran drawings on the walls, what remained of his family, and more importantly, his brother, agitated, pleading, screaming. Who was he even screaming at?

“Descole! What have you done?!”

What did I do? I haven’t done anything, I’ve never done anything… He was the one who—

“Descole! Can you hear me?!”

I can hear you. Can you?

“Why would you do something like—”

Trying to put an end to your life. The words were too difficult to be spoken. Slowly, Des raised his eyes and looked at the man screaming in front of him. That’s when it hit him—there was a single tear running on his cheek. Hershel Layton—Theodore—was crying because of something he had done. Again. Again?

What did he do this time?

With a loud sound, his sword fell to the ground, his tip stained with what he could only assume was his blood. There wasn’t too much of it, but it was unmistakable.

He’d stabbed himself. He had just tried to take his own life. The worst part was that he couldn’t even remember doing so. Was he that far gone? Was he, like every Bronev, destined to go mad? Was every single member of this bloodline doomed?

“I don’t…” Descole muttered, trembling and aching. “I don’t understand…”

His brother’s voice was such a whisper that even Layton, though he was standing so close, almost missed it. There was another tear running down, and another…

“Why would you… no… why couldn’t I prevent it? I was just here, I was…” Layton gestured helplessly to what was around them. “I was just beside you! For once, I was there, and I…” Struggling, he tried to stop the bleeding. Thank God it’s not that deep.

“You… couldn’t have helped it,” Des admitted.

“I will never let you leave my sight again, and I won’t take no for an answer. Not in the mental—and physical—state you’re in. As soon as everything is over, we’re rushing to the hospital. Do you understand?” Hershel wiped the last remaining tears from his face, and secured the makeshift bandage he’d just done—again—to save his brother’s life.

A dark, deep voice rose. “He will not die.” Bronev, who had witnessed everything and didn’t move an inch, suddenly felt like he had to remind the brothers of his presence. “Both his wounds aren’t deep. He’s simply going to need a few days of rest.”

“Of course you would know,” Descole breathed, weakly, but with bitterness in his voice. “You know oh so very well what it takes for a wound to be fatal, don’t you?”

“I can’t say I don’t.”

Layton interjected. “There’s something I don’t understand. You, me, him—we’re gathered here for the first time in probably thirty years. I can’t say I’m happy about it, because I doubt I’ll ever be able to think of you as my father,” he admitted. “You’ve just witnessed your son trying to take his own life. How can you be so cold? Is the extent of your concern simply telling me he’s not going to die?”

“I have long given up on feelings whatsoever. They’re nothing but a hindrance.” He looked at them coldly. “So, yes, I can only give you facts. He will not die, considering you get him to a hospital. That’s a fact, not concern.”

“Feelings are what define people as human beings. Feelings are what makes life so unique and worth living. You just can’t—”

“I don’t think it’s going to be necessary, Professor.”

The three of them froze. The voice they just heard—it was a feminine voice. So enchanting, so calming, and yet so firm at the same time. But who was it? There was nobody else in that cave with them, or so they’d thought. Aurora was gone, and she was the only woman in Targent who was actually in Ashburg. So who could it be?

At the end of the room, a mysterious figure appeared. She looked like a teenage girl, but she wore clothes, a beautiful, long and old-fashioned pink dress, something women wouldn’t be wearing anymore. And she looked familiar. But it couldn’t be…

“Who are you?” Layton inquired.

“My name is Aurora, and I’m the Azran emissary. I have been waiting far too long for someone to gain access to this room, though I would have preferred if it were done more… peacefully,” she said, looking at Bronev with wary eyes.

Descole scoffed. So I’m truly going mad. “What kind of sick joke is this?” Even though he said nothing else, Layton understood precisely what was going on in his head at this precise moment. So that’s why I thought she looked familiar…

“I don’t understand,” the emissary replied. “Why can I hear such torment in your heart?”

So, she’s really clueless. “You… look like my daughter. And you share the same name. This can’t be a coincidence,” he said, unable to look her in the eye.

“I am afraid it is. Aurora is the name my creators gave me, thousands of years ago. I simply adapted it to your language. As for my appearance… I have always looked that way.”

Bronev took advantage of the tense atmosphere to run towards her, hoping to finally solve the last puzzle. There was a glint of determination, almost a feral one, as he looked at her. But as he was about to reach her, he was suddenly unable to move. A wall of ice, almost imperceptible, stood between Aurora and him.

“What is this?!” he cried out, trying to find a way to reach her.

“Security. My people had thought of everything, you see. I have been watching you from the shadows for a while now, and that is why I cannot allow you to gain access to our secrets. You are a lost cause. Your hunger for power will be your undoing,” she said, eyes glimmering a noticeably light blue. Her voice resonated deep within the cave.

“How dare you!” Bronev looked like he was about to destroy everything that still stood in the way of the truth. “Do you truly believe a young girl like you is going to prevent me from reaching my goals, after all the sacrifices I’ve made?”

“You would do well not to underestimate me. Our technology far exceeds yours, and if I feel it is necessary, I could put an end to your life right now to make sure you will not cause more trouble around you,” she admitted coldly.

“Your role is to serve us, not to give us outdated views on how we should live our lives!”

“Bronev! That’s quite enough! You’re not in a position where you can go around and give orders any longer,” Layton said, defying the old leader with a single look. Then, he turned around to face Aurora, on the other side of the wall. “We have more pressing matters to take care of. My name is Hershel Layton, and I am an archaeologist. This is… Descole.” A second later, anyone could have said that any hesitation he’d shown had been an illusion. “We have been trying to discover the Azran legacy for years. It would be invaluable for us to understand why you’re here, as well as what you’re here to protect.”

“You can read Azran language, yes?”

Layton was taken aback. He did not expect such a concise yet irrelevant question. “Indeed.”

“Then you alone shall come and read the writings on the wall beside me.”

“Thank you, Aurora,” the professor said as she let him cross the wall to reach the other side. To him, as an archaeology professor, it was a privilege to be the one to solve the last puzzle.

When he reached the wall, he discovered very ancient writings, and he was relieved to confirm that he could indeed decipher them. They’d been carved in the wall a very long time ago, but such advanced technology had allowed them to still be readable, though they’d lost their shine. Long rows of Azran characters and drawings filled different sections of the wall.

The professor became quickly immersed in his reading and was slightly uncomfortable. The feeling of impending doom became greater and greater the more he could decipher.

Hungered for power, we committed many a mistake. Thou, stranger, who hast hailed from a far land and time, shalt learn the truth of our misdeeds. Read this, understand this, and mayhap then thou shalt not unleash misery upon the world as we did.

We lived in a peaceful world, and we longed to leave our mark during times immemorial. We wanted to be remembered. Every day was a new opportunity to learn. As years went by, our technology became more and more evolve d. One day, we thought that we were too intelligent to invest more energy in doing annoying tasks. That is why we created a new race, the Golems. They were not quite human, even though they looked like us. Their sole purpose was to serve. They were slaves.

Alas, to our contact, they grew more intelligent by the day. They started to foment a revolution and break free of the chains we had put around them. We were too naïve to understand what could happen. We had doomed ourselves because of how conceited we had become.

As our civilization was rapidly being destroyed and we had become their slaves, a few of our people managed t o trap themselves in this cave to leave a trace of our Legacy. One last Golem, Aurora, was here with us and her sole purpose in life is to guide the next civilization that shall uncover our secrets, to make sure they don’t make the same mistakes as we did.

 

Amidst the chaos, we bequeathed a legacy upon the world, our last and greatest treasure. Here, in this chamber, stranger, thou shalt make use of it if thou so desirest.

Thou mayest revive a single soul that thou hast lost . No matter when, who, or where. Aurora shall take care of thy wishes.
 But know this. No one hath ever gotten the chance to seize this opportunity. Thou hast but one chance, one possibility to bring back to life the person thou didst care for so dearly.
 Use it wisely. Think of the consequences of thy actions, and heed those words, from one civilization who failed to do so, to the next.

 Fare thee well, dear stranger.

Hershel Layton let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He felt the cold more than ever before. Once more, he read the writings on the wall to make sure he hadn’t imagined anything. There were simply too many things to consider. He was thrilled, and at the same time, he was terrified. This was the truth they’d been looking for all along? Remnants of what had destroyed an entire civilization? And one last gift to them, one that could change the future of mankind as well?

Bringing back someone from the dead was a dangerous offer. Him, a scientist, could not even fathom how such a thing could be possible, but the Azran had already proved themselves as such masters of technology that now was not the time to ponder how this was scientifically possible, even though he would have to, eventually.

Of course, a single name came to mind. Claire. My beloved Claire, who perished because of the mistakes of a corrupted politician and a devoted scientist. But he couldn’t risk it… He’d seen firsthand the disasters that such delusions could cause. Would he then deny everything he believed in to allow a sentimental dream to come true? Would he deny the very essence of his existence?

“Layton!” Descole’s voice startled him, echoing all over the walls in the cave. “What does it say?” The look on his brother’s face had Hershel realize he was even paler than he’d feared.

“Bring back the dead,” Layton uttered, motionless, like a doll who stood abandoned on the ground.

“What?”

He took a step closer, still as white as a sheet. “Their civilization was destroyed thousands of years ago because of their own recklessness and hunger for power,” he recounted. “But before being wiped out of existence, they left a single treasure behind. Their very last invention. And their emissary, Aurora, is here to allow us to use it if we so choose.” The two men waited with bated breath. “Just one time, one single time...we can bring back someone from the dead.”

His proclamation had everyone baffled. A variety of expressions passed through Descole’s face—from fear to disbelief, then realization that was quickly replaced by hope and envy. A chance to make everything right, a chance to amend all the wrongs I’ve done. A chance to reunite with her and to live the life I’ve always been deprived of.

Bronev, on the other hand, beamed with delight and pride. “So that is the Azran legacy. All those years of research are finally rewarded! Rachel… I can finally see you again.”

At the mention of that name, Descole froze. Another thought was reflected in his eyes. “Wait, Layton. Did you say one time? I’m afraid to ask, but…”

“We have only one chance. There is only one person we can bring back...considering it does work. No one has never had the possibility to try it before.”

A faint whisper. “Annabell…”

Father and son looked at each other, a mix of resentment and determination in both their eyes. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Of course they’d have lost all sense of reason. At the very least, Leon Bronev couldn’t be reasoned with, and Descole knew this truth all too well. But him, on the other hand… after everything he’d been through at the hands of the man he once called his father, how could he let this single opportunity pass him by?

Time seemed to freeze before Layton intervened. He knew that if he didn’t try to stop them, something even more terrible would happen and all he’d been fighting for would have been for naught.

“Bronev, Descole!” Layton exclaimed. “This isn’t reasonable.”

“That’s not for you to decide!” Descole roared, and just like that, the evil scientist’s persona was back. No matter how wounded he was, he was still ready to sacrifice all that would be necessary for him to succeed.

“Did you even consider for a second that I’d have had the same thoughts as you, Descole? I’m sure you know there is someone I lost, too,” the professor admitted.

“The Azran legacy is mine! I’ve sacrificed my whole life for the sake of my research!” Bronev spat and drew a weapon, readying himself to strike at his own flesh and blood. Again.

“Gentlemen, this is ridiculous! Don’t you realize how terrible the consequences would be if we were to bring someone from the dead?” Layton asked, trying to separate the two men. “I have seen firsthand the disaster of such a wish, and I can’t allow you to make the same mistake.”

The look on Hershel’s face was grave enough for both men to come to a halt. “What do you mean?”

“Nine years ago,” Layton recounted, “I lost the love of my life because of such delusions. There were three people working on a time machine at the Institute of Polydimensional Physics in London... Claire, a scientist, Dimitri, and his friend Bill. Perhaps you’ve heard of the explosion. Well, it happened because Bill was offered a large sum of money for the experimental run of the machine. He did not heed Dimitri’s warnings. The machine wasn’t ready, but he didn’t care. Everything went up in flames and I lost the woman I loved.” A single tear ran down his cheek as the two men looked at him in baffled silence. “Claire died because of the hunger for power of one man. Now... Imagine what would happen if we could bring back one person from the dead. There’s no telling how it could change history for the worse. We shouldn’t try to change the fate of the world. We aren’t gods, we’re simply humans. No matter how much I long to see Claire again, she’s dead, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I have learned to live with that.”

“Still,” Descole said, “You’d be granted a chance to find happiness again. Why wouldn’t you take it?”

“Even if I would, do you think you both would allow me to? I know there’s someone you wish to see again as well.”

Des sighed. “Annabell...”

Hershel was determined. “I refuse to fight against you once again. I’d much rather fight to get you both to understand what a mistake it would be to take the Azran up on their offer, and I’m certain Aurora—the emissary—would agree.”

“So,” Bronev interjected, “You’re saying I can’t bring Rachel back from the dead?”

“Oh, you may,” Layton said. “But I will not allow you to. Especially not after everything you’ve done.”

Suddenly, there was a glimmering blue light reflecting in the chambers once again. Aurora came walking towards them—she looked both like a saint and the incarnation of the devil whose only purpose was to tempt men into falling into sin only to regret it afterwards. But this devil also carried a very significant burden; that of reminding them what a grave mistake it would be to bring someone back from the dead, even though she was faced with three determined men, each for his own reason.

“I am impressed, Professor Layton,” Aurora said, and her voice resonated throughout the caves. “Even in the face of so much sadness and desire to get back what was taken from you, you would leave your emotions behind for the sake of a better world. I am sure very few men would make such a difficult decision.”

Hershel seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. “You know, I’m not so sure I’m doing it for the others anymore. Maybe I…” he trailed off, “Maybe I’m just holding true to my convictions. You could say I’m self-centered.”

“Self-centered? You? Pah,” Descole replied, “Take a look around. You’re probably the most selfless person I know.”

A hint of a compliment coming from Descole? Now I know he has suffered major injuries, Layton thought. Still, he did as Des said and watched the two men and Aurora in quick succession, hoping to glean an answer by simply looking at them. Bronev still looked agitated, but if Descole had regained his senses, Layton believed he would be able to stop him, at least, from unleashing hell on earth.

“There is something else you should know,” Aurora said, and without waiting for an answer, she turned towards Descole. “Sir, I heard you mentioning a name a few times. Annabell, I believe? When has she departed from this world?”

It was blunt and unpredictable, but still, he answered. “Twelve years ago.”

“There is a sentence, at the end of the writings on the wall,” she pointed in that direction. “It says, ‘Thou mayest revive a single soul that thou hast lost. No matter when, who, or where. Aurora shall take care of thy wishes,’” she quoted. “I am afraid it has a specific meaning.”

Bronev interjected, “It means that no matter when, where, or who we have lost, you shall help us getting them back, yes?”

“Not exactly. There are… conditions.”

“What?” The three men were looking at her, aghast.

“My people have left us with a last counterpart to their final gift. We were obsessed by the notion of power, as you may have surmised already. But we also regretted deeply what we had done. And even though our technology has allowed us to gain someone the ability to revive a departed soul, it does not come cheap.”

“If it’s money you seek, I’m happy to offer you anything,” Bronev said, still haunted by his fantasy of reviving Rachel.

“It has nothing to do with material gain,” Aurora said. “We set a time limit for the departed’s death. If they have been gone for over ten years, then there’s nothing I can do.”

“What?” Bronev looked like he had just seen a ghost. He probably never expected to hear such a condition. “But you had immense power. How could you decide on such a condition? You’ve been waiting here for millennia!”

“I am not the one who worked on such technology. I am simply the emissary.”

“Then, Rachel is...” Ironically, he couldn’t bring himself to say out the words he’d believed in for so long.

“Annabell’s gone,” Descole said, looking at Bronev, as though he was trying to make a point. Then he turned towards Aurora. “Then the writings on the wall are false.”

“Not exactly. The last two sentences have been read out wrong,” she acknowledged. “They are directly linked. ‘No matter when, who, or where, Aurora shall take of thy wishes’ should be read as one single sentence. No matter when I’m revived, no matter who revives me, and no matter where they take me, I shall take care of your wishes, provided that I can.”

Descole scoffed. “Of course it wouldn’t be so simple.”

“The condition was left out voluntarily, I believe. To ensure that no one could use such a technology without being tested beforehand.”

Layton was astounded. “It’s remarkable. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it has been for your people to work on such advanced technology.”

Des’s gaze suddenly settled on his brother. “Layton,” he said sharply, “You’re the only one who can. You shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. It goes against everything I believe in. I need to keep on going without her. I have grieved enough and I don’t want to risk losing her, or endangering the world, again.”

Aurora looked at them both in quick succession, still stunned by the sheer determination of the professor to protect mankind—at the cost of his own happiness—something her people had failed to do thousands of years ago. As she opened her mouth to speak, a loud sound was heard next to them. It was Bronev, who had fallen on his knees and removed his glasses. He looked utterly defeated. Descole couldn’t help feeling satisfaction, witnessing the downfall of the man who had taken everything away from him. His pain would never match his, but at the very least, he would begin to understand that there was no way out for him.

“All these years...” Bronev started, “I have wanted to revive her. I have wanted her back at my side for so long, and now I realize, had I not sacrificed everything… everyone… my sons and my wife, back when I could still be at their side, Rachel would perhaps be still with us. Or perhaps I would have spent more time with her. I would have regrets, of course, but not the kind I have now.

“I think I finally understand. All these years, I have overlooked what really mattered because I wanted power, and I wanted to make my family proud. I… I’m to blame,” he finally admitted, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

In the ensuing silence, he started recounting his lifestory. How he had been passionate about archaeology since he’d been a young boy, how he’d discovered the Azran when he was in his twenties and wanted to unearth all their secrets.

He had already met Rachel, by then. They’d married, have one, then two children, and they were the happiest people on earth, or so he’d believed. He was about to make a significant breakthrough in the Azran case, but then dark and dangerous men from a cult stormed inside his house late at night and abducted him and Rachel.

They had spent the next seven years in a base, somewhere far away, locked in, trapped, with no way of ever knowing what had happened to their sons. Rachel had anxiety attacks and often needed medical attention. She’d always been of weak constitution but their imprisonment had made it all worse. Leon tried to stay at her side as much as he could, but he was often called to work on the Azran and never managed to negotiate because he firmly believed they would be free as soon as the Azran secret would be discovered. How wrong he had been.

Months passed and soon Rachel had become terminally ill. The day she passed on was the worst day of his life, and he swore he would be the one to discover what every other was looking for—the Azran legacy. Rachel had always been here to encourage him and even in death, she would keep on doing so, he’d thought. He’d find that legacy and she’d be proud. That was all the satisfaction he needed, all the satisfaction he could get now.

But one, two, five, ten years had passed and he had become a different man. He coerced people into helping him the way he was coerced. He destroyed families the way his was destroyed. He became everything he’d sworn to fight, but with his emotions buried deep inside him, he’d started despising who he used to be, a babbling fool, stupidly idealistic.

He was already mad, by then. He was even madder the day he killed Annabell and abducted Aurora. He’d been keeping tabs on the Sycamore family for years, and he saw the potential in his son. When Desmond—his own flesh and blood—had denied him his demand, he’d seen red. He was never refused anything—he hadn’t even had the ability to refuse when he and Rachel had been abducted years ago!—and it irritated him beyond belief to see that smug look on his son’s face. So he did what any other madman would do: kidnap his little girl—his own granddaughter—and slaughter his daughter-in-law in retribution.

And now, twelve years after that atrocious crime for which he was never charged, he was forced to realize how he’d gone astray, how there was no way to bring him back who he once was, how he was the only one to blame.

After a long silence, Layton said, “This secret… this last gift from the Azran, it’s all quite cruel, don’t you think?”

Bronev nodded. “You’re right. It’s as though, all along, it was a gift made to fit my wildest desires, and I could never have guessed that. Perhaps the true Azran power is to offer us gifts that we have always longed for, only to make us suffer,” he paused. “Because, like us, they were forced to chase the illusion of power and world-domination. We certainly have much to consider.”

The emissary smiled, and she looked like an angel then. “I have put my faith in your people, hoping you wouldn’t make the same mistakes mine did. At first, I was afraid, but I couldn’t really interfere. I could remind you about the risks, and tell you about the condition, but if you wouldn’t take me at my word, I wouldn’t be able to do anything if chaos ensued.” She looked at Bronev. “But then you realized the errors of your ways and you dropped the mask, both figuratively and literally. That’s when I saw your eyes. Beneath all your hunger for power, I saw a deep torment, still lurking inside. You probably had forgotten all about it yourself. You had made yourself forgetting it, at all costs.”

Bronev sighed. The only emotion left inside his eyes was sadness. “I’m not happy about chasing a fantasy all these years, only to realize there was no way for me to make it real. Actually, I’m angry at the Azran for ever giving me the hope I could see my wife again. But above all else, the one I’m the most angry at is myself.”

“I have no purpose left,” she said, without a hint of regret. “I shall self-destruct, as will this gift we had bestowed upon you. It is for the best,” Aurora concluded. “Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for your sacrifices, for the greater good. I have no doubt you will be rewarded someday. You will be forgiven, no matter how long it takes.” 

Her will was strong, but her figure made her look like a lost little girl who was afraid of what would become of her. Immediately a surreal show followed in front of their eyes. She gradually disappeared, as though returning to dust, leaving no trace. As though she had never existed. As though she was never meant to exist, because in a few moments, there would be nothing left, of her, of the Azran, of everything they’d spent their lives working on.

Layton was speechless. He had wanted to say goodbye to her even though he met her less than an hour ago. He’d wanted to thank her for everything she’d done, for everything she’d shown them, because she had been the one—along with her people—to teach them an invaluable lesson. He swallowed back his tears, trying to ignore the lump forming in his throat. Such a wild ride was finally coming to an end, but nothing else would ever be the same. Randall wasn’t there to witness the last gift of the Azran, to be amazed by their advanced technology—he would have to recount everything to him, in detail, but later—and he couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around the terrible things he’d learned today.

The Bronev family was once happy, with two children. One of said children was him, and the other was Descole, the man who had once tried to kill him. Their biological mother had been dead for decades. And Leon Bronev, ruthless leader and murderer, was their father. Layton felt that all the foundations on which he’d built his life had been shattered and it left him with no identity. What’s a man to do when everything he’s ever believed in has always been a lie, no matter why it had started? He understood that he’d been left in such a situation so he could be protected, but why couldn’t his brother have enjoyed the same love? Why couldn’t they have grown up together, free from anguish?

Hershel Layton—or whoever he was—had no need for another family. Or, at the very least, he had no need for Leon Bronev. He had grown up without remembering him, and he wished it could have stayed that way. The only person he needed right now was his big brother. But he was Descole, the man who had tottered so many times on the brink of collapse. Layton feared he would be forever gone after that, and he didn’t know how to bring him back.

“You will have to pay for what you’ve done, Bronev. And Aurora… If she doesn’t make it…,” Layton lowered his voice to make sure Descole couldn’t make out what he said, but it only sparked his curiosity.

“You can say it, Layton. I know which state she’s in. But I believe in her. She will be fine.” Des averted his gaze, afraid of the truth he may find in his brother’s eyes.

“I cannot apologize,” Bronev said. “That would be ridiculous, and it wouldn’t change what I have done to you—and to others—all these years.”

Descole hissed, “You don’t even have the guts to—”

“Descole,” Layton interjected with a sharp voice, and put his hand on his brother’s injured arm. “It’s useless. Just leave him be. He doesn’t have the strength—or the courage—to apologize but I think he’s finally starting to understand the pain he’s caused. He will pay for what he’s done, trust me.”

“I should be the one to make him pay! But I can’t even do that,” he laughed, defeated. “Killing you would be too easy. You wouldn’t experience the pain you inflicted upon me. And you know what’s the worst in all this?” He asked to no one in particular. “I don’t even have any means to get back to him. He’s already lost everything, and he knows it. But he’s done that to himself. You, Bronev,” he faced the old man, “You are the only person responsible for what you’ll be going through starting now. And I hope you rot in hell while you think about all the lives you’ve taken and broken—including your own—because that’s everything you deserve. For as long as I live, I will ensure you’ll never get the privilege of going to paradise while you’ve made my life a living hell.”

Descole walked out of the cave with a hurried step, impatient to get away from his forsaken father, from the man who had taken everything from him, and above all, from the Azran and every atrocious memory they symbolized. It wouldn’t be as glorious as vowing to start again—even though he was left with a broken husk of a daughter he’d always thought would be gone forever—but he would try, at the very least. He had Raymond. He would be there for him. He had Layton, too, even though he wouldn’t readily admit it. And he had his daughter, because she would be back at his side.

Layton had only one objective: to catch up with him, so he could be there for him when he needed it the most. Because even though he had only regained some of his memories from his youth, he was reminded very clearly of all the times Descole—no, Hershel—had struggled and needed someone to stand by his side. He would never ask, of course, but young Theodore felt he had to snuggle in his arms. In silence, they would stay that way for what seemed like peaceful hours. And sometimes, Theo would sense something wet rolling on his forehead. They never said anything, but he knew then that Hershel was silently crying and he had made the right decision by staying by his side. Such moments became more common by the time their parents had been snatched up from them. And at this instant, more than thirty years later, Layton knew he’d cry because he didn’t want to lose his brother. He was also convinced that Des could fall apart at any minute and he would need him then. Alas, he still had to take care of Bronev.

“Bronev,” Layton said, “We’re going to leave this place and I’ll get Grosky to come here, if he hasn’t already.”

“I’m not going to fight. I’ll come with you.”

“Thank you.” Layton led him out of the caves. “There’s only one thing I’ll be begging for. Please don’t apologize, or don’t try to pretend you’re my father. I won’t hear it anyway.” In that moment, it seemed to the professor that his brother had rubbed off on him, but it didn’t matter. “My only parents are Lucille and Roland Layton, and I don’t need any other. But perhaps… one day, we will meet again as colleagues.”

Bronev nodded and the two men disappeared in the forest, walking towards the inspector who waited for them with his team ready to arrest Leon, father of two, leader of Targent, criminal, and above all, one more tormented soul in the Bronev family.

Chapter Text

Epilogue
Between Hope and Despair (Face A)

“Where is she?!”

A man, bruised and on the cusp of despair, came tumbling in inside the hospital. He looked like he would be able to fight if anyone said something to rub him the wrong way. Alas… The medical team had enough experience to understand how painful such a situation was for the people who had to live through it, but they had never grown quite used to it. They refused to become used to tell bad news to friends, families, fathers or mothers who still had hope written all over their faces wet with tears. Becoming used to inflict pain on others would rob them of the last of their humanity, they believed.

And so they had wanted to do anything in their power for this exchange to go differently—they had wanted to find a reason to delay the inevitable, to find the right words to say to this man who was already consumed by the pain. But how could they? Given the physical and mental state he was in, he would be taken it for relief anyway. It would just have to wait until the terrible news was made known, no matter how awful that sounded.

Professor Hershel Layton followed suit, but he was not able to restrain Descole. It was still too soon for any brotherly bond or suchlike to form, and even if it had, he had never known how to express his feelings of concern other t han by looking at people with sad eyes. He had probably never learnt it at all . That was close to the way he delivered the news to Angela almost nineteen years ago, after all. Nothing had changed. His life was still one tragedy after the other—but he could not bear to feel that way. He was not the one who suffered the most. He would never be able to even understand what pain his brother had been going through, was going through, will be going through. Would it ever end? Was Hershel Bronev bound to a life of suffering?

Layton himself was in a bad place. What he was about to learn, he already knew. The look in the eyes of the doctors and the atmosphere of the place were enough indication. Moreover, he felt like he had failed everything and everyone. For the first time in over ten years, he had failed. Professor Hershel Layton had failed and people had been hurt, or worse. He did not even know what happened to all these people he’d sworn he would save from the city’s doom—or whatever nonsense he had said back when he still believed he could play the hero. There were victims. One, at the very least. Possibly more.

One doctor slowly approached the two men. There was decidedly no easy way to voice this, and no easier way to hear it, other than brace himself for impact.

“When Aurora was brought in, she was in a critical condition, as you were no doubt aware. She had suffered severe injuries—heavy head trauma.” Layton nodded. Des tried to fight back the voices in his head. “She had fell into a coma and we did everything we could to—”

“Did?” Descole repeated. “Did… That means… No…”

“We did everything in our power to bring her back. But it seems everything was not enough. I think she tried to hold out as long as she could, for you, but it wasn’t… it was too late. I’m deeply sorry,” he said, and everything was over.

How?

How was this fair?

Twelve years. He had spent the last twelve years trying to live in the shadow of his memories, in the shadow of who he had been. Elaborating a clever plan to get revenge of anyone who had hurt him—he’d thought, one more fallacy—and, honestly, to keep his mind off the pain. Because hate was so much easier to feel than this immense pain.

Twelve years, and suddenly, she had come back. Aurora was back! She had been shot by Bronev, she had been taken away by Targent—or so he’d believed—and still she was alive. She was there, beside him, once more. They could catch up on all the time they had lost together. There was still something, someone to live for. A thread, a beautiful thread to hang on to.

But why? Why bestow him with such a gift only to rip it off his hands a few hours later, destroying his heart in the process?

Earlier, he’d believed everything could have gone differently if he hadn’t show up in Ashburg. He’d also been haunted by the opposite—even though he was here now, as his father, as the man who had raised her the first six years of her life, there was nothing he could do to stop any tragedy from befalling her.

In the end, no matter the path he would take, he would stay utterly powerless. That was his curse. He would stay powerless for the rest of his life.

How was this fair?

Now there simply wasn’t anyone left.

A voice, as low as a whisper. “Powerless… There’s simply nothing I can do…”

He took his head inside his hands and started sobbing silently.

Layton had always believed his brother would fall apart at the announcement—had he even enough piece s left to fall apart?—only to notice that Des had even lost all his strength to react. On the outside. Because on the inside, the guilt was eating away at him. Of that he was certain, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. That was just the way he would deal with grief from now on.

A nurse stood next to the doctor. “You can still see her, if that is your wish.”

“I’m not sure…” Layton began, glancing in the direction of his brother. “We need a little time to…take a decision.” She nodded.

“The charges are severe. It’s been officially classified as murder,” the doctor exhaled. “Per the Murder Act, the culprit will not be sentenced to death, but it is very likely that he will spend the rest of his days behind bars.”

Right. The Murder Act, Layton thought. It had finally been adopted a few weeks prior, after years of debate. Perhaps that was something to be thankful for.

“Are you aware of the circumstances?” Hershel asked.

“The police came earlier and explained the basics. Leon Bronev has admitted to everything, so there’s little you can do.”

“I don’t have anything to do,” Layton replied, and he felt like he wasn’t in control of his body anymore, for the words that came out next were far more bitter than what he was used to. “He has to pay for everything he has done.”

The professor had never been keen on sending people to their deaths. Ever since he was young, he had always perceived the death penalty as a disaster, a denial of human rights—something no one should have to go through, no matter their crimes. Even in this case, reflecting on everything Bronev had done throughout his life, it didn’t seem fitting. He could never wish harm upon another person, no matter the reason, even though he could imagine why his brother would. In turn, the man would probably say that was because Layton was “too pure at heart” or “had never really known suffering”, especially when he was haunted by his Descole persona. He couldn’t blame him, really. But life imprisonment was enough. He could live with that. There would be no family reunions, no reuniting as colleagues, and probably no forgiveness. But he could live with that. Right?

“Mister Layton?” A distant voice reminded him he had been lost in his thoughts.

“My apologies,” the professor said. “Was there something else?”

Descole was standing a few feet away from them, seemingly still in shock, his back turned on them. His only noticeable movement was the slight trembling of his body, as if to indicate that the tears were still falling. Layton feared he would never move again. Apparently, that concern was shared.

“We have very good psychiatrists working here,” the doctor started, lowering his voice. “I think it may be fitting to…”

“Yes. Yes, of course. He… he tried to kill himself, you know. Earlier.” Hershel was at a loss at how he could phrase something that horrible. Saying it out loud made him understand that it was real, that his brother was in such a dark place he wasn’t even sure there was something anyone could do to help him. And he would probably blame him for confessing that in his stead. But no matter. “I’m afraid he will never recover. He’s been through…a lot. I’m not sure it will be easy for you to care for him,” he admitted.

“That’s for us to figure out. I promise you we will find a way,” the nurse said. “Do you wish to stay with him?”

“If that’s possible, yes.”

“We can afford you a few hours. Then you can take a decision about Aurora, and we can try to figure out a bit more on how to help him to the best of our abilities. But that’ll take time.”

Again, Hershel nodded. There was nothing better he could do anyway. Time was the only thing he had at that moment. He would be here for his brother, he would never let go of his hand again, never mind the fact he’d never been responsible for their separation.

He would let the doctors do their job, he would be here at any time when needed, they would find him a new path together, one that would suit him and let him grieve in peace.

He had no idea when, or if, that would happen.

The only thing he was certain of was that he would stay by his side every step of the way, like a true brother would.