"Geoffrey," Richard called, scrambling into the old butlers' quarters. "Just give me a moment," he begged Marquis, desperation cracking his voice.
"Get this over with," Marquis scoffed, turning to the hooded figure. "Drop them on the couches—gently this time." he added, remembering how roughly the figure had handled them earlier.
"Understood," the cloaked figure replied with surprising deference. Marquis walked over, Outside light overtaking the chandelier's glow.
Geoffrey entered the parlor, Richard trailing behind.
"Can you help the kids?" Richard asked, pointing weakly to Elara, Anna, and Leonardo.
Richard collapsed onto the couch across from Marquis, while the cloaked figure stood nearby, silent.
Marquis's expression was cold. "Why didn't you do anything?"
"I tried—"
"You didn't. You watched them burn." Marquis's voice was steady, sorrowful. "You've had enough treatments."
Richard mumbled, "I didn't..."
"You did," Marquis snapped. "You're a sorry old man, always thinking of yourself. It's pathetic. 'We' all share blood—however faint—and I'm ashamed of that."
Richard sat in silence, shame curling in his gut. A young man, barely old enough to be his son, was rightfully condemning him. Maybe he was a sorry old man.
He remembered the explosion—the screams, the falling debris. He saw the boy who had thrown himself into the flames.
"I... have medicine," Richard said, almost to himself.
"Good," Marquis replied flatly.
Geoffrey worked silently, applying herbs to burns with precision. Leonardo, blessed with minor flame resistance, was faring better than the girls. Elara's floral dress was singed and crumbling.
"This flame lingers... it's not natural," Geoffrey muttered.
Leonardo began convulsing. A sharp cry filled the room. Marquis squinted. "He jumped straight into the fire. Is he brave or foolish?"
"Both," Richard murmured, glancing at the sisters. They weren't in the blast, but shock had stolen the breath from their bodies.
The herbs were taking effect. Their burns began to fade; breathing steadied.
Richard's chest tightened. He'd failed them. Again. But under Marquis's unwavering gaze, he knew failure couldn't continue.
"You need to do better," Marquis said quietly. "The Mortimers used to be great. Now you're just an estate buried in the far east of Below Sky."
Richard flinched. The words stung—truth always did. He heard Anna's voice echo in his head, so much like Marquis's:
"What happened to the Mortimers? How did one of the noble families in the Tower become a footnote in the east? What pure rubbish."
The very words rang in his ears, gnawing at his conscience. What were they teaching the new generation of heirs in the stem? He continued thinking, feeling the weight of his family's fallen status. Why are they naturally disobedient to the way of things.
Richard bowed his head. Maybe this was his chance—not redemption, but responsibility.
Elara and Anna lay still, breath shallow. Richard watched in silence. The guilt remained.
Marquis, hands tucked into his hoodie, stared out the window. Golden light cast long shadows across the ruined estate. "It'll be morning in five hours."
Dust shimmered in the light, dancing between hope and despair. The cloaked figure stood close, like a sentinel.
"How did the right star explode?" Marquis asked without turning.
"Unknown," the figure answered. This was supposed to be an elimination quest, not one requiring competitors to destroy each other.
"Who would destroy a right star full of heirs?" Marquis muttered. His gaze tightened. If I hadn't been at the lake training… would I be ashes too?
"There's still a chance the quest isn't what we think," he said bitterly. "Who gives teenagers a quest to survive the 17 Wonders?"
Marquis turned his attention back to the cloaked figure. "We need to be prepared for anything," he said firmly. "This quest is not just a test of our abilities but of our will to survive and succeed."
He clenched his jaw. "That... sage," he muttered darkly.
The cloaked figure nodded in agreement, a silent acknowledgment that he understood the gravity of the situation and shared Marquis's resentment toward the sage.