The Time Keeper

Chapter 40 - Plus One

The following morning, I woke up to a world bathed in the soft light of dawn. The events of the previous night still weighed heavily on my mind, but I pushed them aside, determined to focus on the tasks of the day. I got dressed and made my way downstairs, my thoughts a jumbled mess of questions and uncertainties.

With a sense of unease still lingering in the air, I had spent most of the night tossing and turning. The cryptic conversation, the intrusion into my room, and the enigmatic motives behind it all haunted my thoughts.

As I made my way to The Den, I couldn't help but glance around, half-expecting to see a familiar face watching me from the shadows. The city seemed to carry an air of secrecy, each passerby potentially concealing hidden intentions.

When I stepped into The Den, I was met with the usual organized chaos. Darius was already busy, sorting through a stack of papers, Jean at the front desk, engrossed in the newspaper. I greeted him with a nod and made my way to my desk, my thoughts still preoccupied with the events of the night.

After a quick check of the task board, it seemed that most field assignments were already covered. Darius was busy coordinating resources and responding to various requests, leaving me with a temporary lull in my duties.

With the desire to clear my mind and channel my energy into something productive, I decided to head to the shooting range. It had been a while since I had practised my marksmanship, and the rhythmic process of aiming and firing could provide a much-needed distraction.

As I entered the shooting range, the familiar smell of gunpowder filled the air. The space was relatively empty, and I picked a spot at the far end. The targets lined up in front of me, their circular centres calling out to be punctured by precise shots.

I pulled out my revolver, the cold metal familiar in my grip. The weight of it felt comforting, a connection to a world that was tangible and real. As I fired my first shot, the recoil jolted through my hand, the sound of the gunshot echoing in the enclosed space.

With each shot, I could feel the muscle fibres in my body working, responding to the repetitive action. It was as if my body was adjusting and adapting to the demands of the exercise. Was this a side effect of my newfound abilities as an arcanist, or was it something else entirely?

My mind wandered as I fired shot after shot, lost in the rhythm of the practice. The world outside the range faded away, leaving only the echoing reports of gunfire and the satisfaction of hitting my mark.

An hour passed, the repetitive motion gradually easing the tension that had built up inside me. With a final shot, I emptied the last round in my revolver, the click of the hammer signalling the end of the session. I holstered the gun and took a deep breath, the scent of gunpowder and the feeling of exertion hanging in the air.

As I made my way back to The Den, a sense of calm had settled over me. The practice had been therapeutic, a physical outlet for the pent-up emotions and thoughts that had been swirling in my mind.

However, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Caius was stepping out of Darius's office, his expression unreadable.

I stopped in my tracks, stunned by the sight. Caius and I had clashed just a few days ago, our argument leaving me with the impression that Caius wanted nothing to do with arcanists in the slightest. And yet, here he was, leaving Darius's office in such a place that had everything to do with arcanists. My curiosity got the better of me, and I approached him.

"Caius?" I called out, my voice tinged with surprise.

Caius turned to face me, his gaze steady but guarded. "Elias," he acknowledged with a nod.