Chapter Text
The wizard cannot shake Eerkala’s words about what Old Cob is planning. What he has—at this point no doubt—already set in motion.
How many times can they be racing against the end of the spiral itself?
How many monsters crave to unmake the only thing holding their fragile existence together?
How much blood has to spill before it’s all over? Truly over.
They press their hand to Mirage’s spiral door, turning the key for Wizard City and despising that they have been called back in the midst of something that feels so much more important. They shouldn’t be doing this. Some part of them is growing slowly towards hating the council of light for being the reason they are still at Merle Ambrose’s beck and call. It isn’t that the Arcanum is much better but—
—well they’d take Ione over Ambrose at least a dozen times over.
At least she seemed to understand there was a level of urgency to their actions.
Still, they find themself standing again in that same office where they had first been sent off towards Unicorn Way. Much of what Ambrose says they already know, Malistaire’s journal has been their only real point of reference for the Schismists.
“I believe the initials to point towards young mister Grimwater—and I suspect this is why he has been missing since your return from Castle Darkmoor.”
The wizard thinks their heart actually stops for a second.
They stare at him.
“Duncan?” They say his name slowly, like they don’t understand.
Despite his involvement—though Ambrose doesn’t, can’t know about that—there just wasn’t any possibility for him to have been the one Malistaire was in contact with after Sylvia’s death. The idea was just… absurd.
“Yes, I’ve had Mellori looking for him and she managed to track him down only recently—I would like you to join her in confronting him, she is waiting for you in Olde Town.”
They blink.
Nod.
Swallow the immediate bubbling font of questions that raise with this whole line of thinking.
How on earth could Ambrose think it had been Duncan—in the beginning? At that start? As a child?
But then…
He had used them as a child, hadn’t he?
Why shouldn’t he assume the Schismists would do the same.
“So you tracked Duncan down?”
“Well, I may have heard from assistant Professor Ashthorn that he spent a lot of time on Triton Avenue with the Gryphonbane siblings—and then he showed me the magic academy in Dragonspyre—which you promised to do—where I met Suzie—and she might have said something about letting a certain someone use her and her brother’s vacant house.”
Of course Suzie had done that. The wizard shakes their head and swallows an exasperated laugh. Because of course telling Duncan Grimwater to go into hiding had just resulted in him camping out in the Gryphonbane’s home.
So while they walk, Mellori fills them in on her studies.
“I wish I could have been part of the Myth school here—I was raised by a Myth scholar after all.”
“Nah, you don’t.” The wizard replies, “Cyrus would eat you alive.”
“I could handle it!”
“Within my first week here, he tried to get me expelled twice, sent me on a quest to find things that didn’t exist, made me do his laundry, and called me some variation of incompetent and stupid every chance he got.” They count these things off on their fingers, “Trust me, you don’t want to learn from Cyrus Drake, he’d break the bubbly right out of you and that would be a terrible shame.” They pause, looking over at Mellori and her crossed arms and indignance. “Besides, you read the book of secrets, it offered you Life magic instead.”
“Life is boring!” Mellori insists, rolling her eyes. “I had one little taste of adventuring with you in Polaris after a lifetime of being sheltered in the Tayg, and now I’m just—just supposed to sing songs and tend plants and heal people?”
“Give it a minute to grow on you.” they reply, a smile ghosting across their face.
“Oh shut up!” There’s no venom to the words, she’s halfway to laughing.
But they’ve made it to the Gryphonbane house by then.
The door is locked—but it’s been a very long time since a regular unenchanted locked door has posed anything resembling a problem for the wizard.
Duncan appears to have been expecting them.
They half wonder if Suzie warned him, or if he’d told her to let the information out.
“Wondered when you’d get here. Was ruining my chance of surviving the Spiral’s destruction not enough? Come to rub it in some more?” Ah. The full return of bravado and theatre. At least he seemed less sour than they would have expected.
It’s better lit in here than it had been in Malistaire’s sanctum.
They can faintly see the scars he shares with them. Not nearly so deep, but Shadow had left its marks where it had run down his face in Darkmoor.
“Yeah right! Not before you got Malistaire to steal the Eye of History and pass it along to the schismists for you!” Mellori speaks before the wizard even has a chance to, gaze bright and sharp with interest as she stares Duncan down. “We’re on to you!”
“Mellori—” The wizard starts, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of their nose. They like having her along, but she can’t just barrel through things without them. Especially if she’s going to take Ambrose’s ridiculous claim at face value.
Duncan laughs, “Wait, wait, you think I’m the schism agent? Ha! I wish! Like I said, you ruined my chance of ever joining their ranks properly. They barely wanted me in the first place.” To the wizard’s surprise, he doesn’t seem…entirely disappointed by this. “Don’t get the wrong idea, there’s no way I’m telling you who the real agent is either,” He locks eyes with them as he speaks though, expression more serious. “I’d never be able to show my face in firecat alley again. But—I didn’t say that. Got it?”
A now familiar spike of white hot rage accompanies those words.
“Gretta?” Low and dangerous, the realization that is dawning has the stars dancing across their tongue. The wizard grabs Duncan’s arm, pulling him toward them. “Get your armor. You’re coming with us.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not going! She’ll kill me for—for letting it slip! Why do you think I’ve been hiding out here?”
They do not look away, words coming out slow, even, level, measured. “No.” They tell him, releasing his arm “She really really won’t.” Breathe. Swallow the sourness of space and bottle that rage for the duel. Gretta Darkettle. From the start, from the beginning, from the moment they began—the one who had given Malistaire the means to awaken the titan had been sitting comfortably in her home. Hearing of their exploits, from neighbors, from merchants, from other students. Did she know even now that they would be coming for her?
Would she run?
…She won’t make it far.
“Wizard?” Mellori looks between them, “Do you know who we’re after?”
“Yes.” Single word in triplicate, swallow it, hold it for now.
“And you really think bringing him along is a good idea?” They don’t begrudge Mellori the apprehension where Duncan is concerned, but they nod regardless.
“I trust him.”
It’s hard to read the look Duncan is giving them when he returns, geared up and ready to go. There will be time for it later. There will be time for all of this, later.
They have to force themself not to run the whole way to Firecat Alley. They let Duncan lead. Directing them across from where Gretta’s house was, and revealing something that opened up into a cavern.
Where Gretta Darkkettle stands, awaiting their arrival with no trace of surprise.