Chapter 4 #4
The last type, Dominion, was never given to a bloodline, though many had tried to appease the Architect enough to give it to them.
Great leaders desired to have the power of order and dominance, though no one knew exactly what the Archetype contained or what magic it delivered.
But the Architect refused to pass the code to another, in fear it would fall into the wrong hands.
“Dominion no longer exists,” I said.
Bernard nodded. “The Fall of the Architect, a century or so ago. It was thought his Dominion made him immortal, but he lost himself in his search for a higher power. His ultimate goal was to destroy evil so that the realm would live in harmony forever. He wanted a utopia, and he wanted to be the god who created it.”
“How did he die?” I asked. “What did the Academy tell you?”
Bernard shrugged. “Some say he died in his sanctum, body undone by the weight of every code he carried in his memory. It’s no small thing, condensing multiple codes into a single vessel.
” He sighed, dropping his voice lower as he continued.
“There have always been rumors that while his flesh had perished, his heart—his code—lived on, preserved somewhere in the Academy.”
“And what do you think?” I asked, leaning my head against the couch. “Do you think his heart still exists?”
He handed the dice back to me. “I think men were not meant to be gods, nor should any one person have that kind of power.” A deep silence stretched, interrupted only by the ticking of a nearby clock. “I also think you should get rid of those, Nina.”
“I am,” I said, and for once, I wasn’t lying to him. “Thank you for explaining what they are, though. I think it’s best no one ever finds them.”
“You said you got them off the beggar?” he asked, tone sharp.
I nodded. “Yes, why?”
His graying brows pinched. “Those are very sophisticated for a poor man in the Fissures. Are you sure that Cursed had nothing to do with them?”
He was treading dangerously close to the truth, and I stood to leave before he got too close. “Can’t be sure. He didn’t mention them, if he was.”
The lie tasted foul in my mouth, but I didn’t want to bother Bernard with another useless worry. In the morning, I would take Mother out to see the chemist and find a way to get rid of the dice without attracting the man who hunted them.
He knew where I worked, but he also knew I wasn’t working tomorrow. He’d overheard that from our conversation in the surgery. With any luck, he’d search for me elsewhere in the city, anywhere else, and Bernard would be safe.
After that… I didn’t have much of a plan.
“What do you know about the Cursed?” I asked him.
“Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. “Our patient just had me thinking about them. I’ve never met one before, and I was curious.”
Bernard was tiring, and it was getting late, but he entertained one more of my questions.
“The Magister chooses who receives bloodlines. After all, only those born with connections to the Academy get to learn there, so it limits the spread of magic to anyone outside the ruling families. A long time ago, there was a group of people who believed that was unfair.”
“It was. It still is.”
“Of course, but that’s not the point. When people learned how a bloodline was received, by drinking an elixir of coded essence, they tested a new theory by drinking the blood of those who were given a bloodline.
And it worked. By drinking from someone with a bloodline, they were able to wield their power—but there was a catch. ”
He yawned before explaining the rest. “The Cursed must continue to drink from a bloodline to maintain the power. Once they stop feeding, they starve, they die. It’s a terrible way to live, always seeking your next hit.
They do have traces of essence in their system, however, giving them heightened, natural abilities. ”
“Like healing.” I sighed.
“And taste, smell, hearing, speed…” Bernard yawned once more, and I nudged him off the couch.
“Go to bed, old man. You’ve got a long day in the surgery tomorrow.”
“How lucky am I?” he said as I followed him into the hall. I knew he meant it. “Get some well-deserved rest yourself, Nina.”
Bria was still sound asleep when I returned to bed.
I slipped the pouch beneath my pillow again, close enough that I could feel if the outsider activated them.
It was tempting, having all that power within reach.
Every Archetype, when even the most influential names in our society only received one.
It was impossible not to be enthralled… to wonder. How they were created, why a Cursed man had them in his possession, how he could use them like that. Like I could.
Had he not been trying to kill me, I thought we might even have something in common. If he had a Siphon as well, perhaps we could help each other better understand it. If he had the dice, perhaps he also understood how this power was possible.
The look in his eyes when he caught me at Opal’s with his relics had ruined any of those possibilities. I had lost his trust the moment I deceived him. If I didn’t want to end up like those beggars in the surgery, then I needed to get rid of these relics.