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    Summary

    Not a single thing is out of place, but Veritas still walks towards the statue and stares up at its sightless eyes. He turns to follow its gaze and hears the softest rasp of stone on stone, only to whip his head back and find the statue as he’d left it — still unmoving, still sightless, still with an enigmatic half-smile on its perfectly-chiselled lips.

    “You are nothing but a statue. Not once have you displayed any propensity for animation or sentience. Logically speaking, your head is as empty as the imbeciles I have the displeasure of educating.”

    The statue, rather unsurprisingly, makes no attempt to respond.

    There is nothing concrete to support his harebrained hypothesis, no empirical evidence to forge any correlation between the statue’s arrival and Veritas’ benign nuisance. There is only unsubstantiated intuition — the instincts of a man barely above the fools he condemns, bristling with qualifications that can do nothing to prove his suspicions.

    Language:
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    Chapters:
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