“I know.” Lyssa waved a hand. “There are rumors about it taking that long in special cases.”
“We’re Illuminated, Lyssa,” Takeo replied. “We live in a world steeped in sorcery that goes beyond the bounds of the physical and even spiritual worlds. The Shadows might balk at the impossible, but we know there are more possibilities out there. Be careful not to convince yourself that something is true simply because it confirms your preexisting beliefs.”
Lyssa took a couple of deep breaths. She didn’t want to jump down his throat. “You’re saying you think he’s been dead all along, or you think he died recently?”
“Now, that I can’t say.” Takeo shrugged. “A regalia, in the end, is nothing more than shard clothing we’ve long since lost the secret to producing. As such, it’s the product of sorcery. We know this. We can feel it from our own and others. Despite the difficulty of destroying them, it’s not impossible that someone developed a spell to block the return of regalia to the Vault of Dreams and delayed its return that way. They might have perverted the rituals we use during the bonding process. It’s not a useful long-term strategy, but rogues might have come up with something like that.”
“But if you had to bet, what would you say?” Lyssa asked. “You’re the expert. I’m good at killing people and breaking things, but I’m… Adrien Allard’s City Guard. It’s already back, right?”
Takeo nodded. “It returned a few days after your encounter in Houston.”
“And the Imperial Sage and the Hangman?”
“Both have already returned.”
“Huh.” Lyssa chuckled. “That quickly, huh?”
“Others have taken longer in the documented past.”
“What’s the record you’ve heard?” Lyssa asked. “In the documented past.”
“Six months,” Takeo replied. “It remains unclear why it took so long in that case. I’m not denying it could take longer, but I can only tell you what we can confirm.”
Lyssa nodded. “Fine. Then back to the bet.”
“If I had to bet, I’d argue that they were wrong when they decided your brother was dead. Speaking as a vault tender, I’d say he was alive but died recently.” He delivered the verdict in a quiet but firm tone, no doubt in his voice.
Lyssa sucked in a breath. She didn’t want that answer, even if she’d expected it.
“But who am I to question others investigating these things?” Takeo continued. “I’m not a Torch or an Eclipse. I’m a vault tender. I can only tell you what I believe.”
“Well, I’m a Torch, and I question it.” Lyssa shrugged. “I need to see it with my own eyes. Once I do, that’ll answer some questions.”
“It’ll take about five more minutes to arrive. I apologize.”
“It’s not your fault. I’ve been waiting a while for this. I can wait a few more minutes.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lyssa’s heart thundered as they stopped in front of a wall segment marked Northern Trickster. Other than the Lemurian script near the top, nothing about it was different from any other spot in the hallway.
That frustrated her. Whatever lay on the other side could be the answer to a fifteen-year-old question. It might hurt less if there was something notable about it.
She pushed out the thoughts. The universe was even-handed in good times and bad.
“This is it, huh?” Lyssa swallowed.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Takeo replied.
Lyssa let out a dark chuckle. “I came halfway across the world and carved through a lot of monsters and a rogue to earn the right to do this. There’s no way I’m turning back now.”
“As you wish.”
Takeo turned to the wall. He produced a small wooden doll from within his robe and began chanting a spell in Japanese while shaking the doll. His form blurred, and a perfect copy of him appeared beside him.
Lyssa had seen the spell before, but that didn’t make it any less unnerving. It wasn’t an illusion but an actual copy. Sometimes she appreciated a straightforward essence. Takeo’s duplication essence invoked all sorts of strange thoughts. The last thing a paranoid woman needed was more things to worry about.
The first Takeo replaced the doll and pulled out a key, this one metal instead of crystal. He handed it to his copy before retrieving his original key. They held up their keys and chanted in unison, this time in Lemurian.
Bright lines appeared on the wall and traced curvilinear sigils over several seconds. A low hum sounded.
Lyssa held her breath. She clutched her hands together.
She could defeat almost any enemy. That kind of problem didn’t bother her, but this wasn’t a situation where she could shoot her way to victory.
The lines grew brighter, almost blinding. Pieces of the wall slowly turned translucent, then faded from view as if they had been an illusion the entire time. Ten long seconds passed before there was a perfectly rectangular doorway in the wall leading into a tiny alcove barely large enough to fit a single person. Stark white light shone from the roof, highlighting the clothes inside.
A pair of boots, a tunic, and a mask floated in front of Lyssa—a regalia. A few seconds later, the alcove flashed, and the regalia twisted and warped into a purple suit, shiny black shoes, and a black caplet. The next form was a high-slit dress and an elaborate crown. Lyssa couldn’t help but think about how impractical that’d be for combat.
The regalia continued to cycle through combinations of clothing items and colors. Gloves appeared or disappeared, along with other accessories, bracelets, rings, earrings, even an eyepatch, but never any weapons. No regalia came with weapons.
“As you can see, the Northern Trickster has returned to the Vault of Dreams,” Takeo said, motioning inside.
“Maybe,” Lyssa replied, keeping her tone polite. Whatever had happened with her brother and his regalia wasn’t Takeo’s fault.
Lyssa swallowed and stared at the constantly changing regalia. An unbound regalia represented possibility, but not infinite possibility. The Illuminated connected his or her soul to the costume during their Initiation, freezing it in a fixed form that was reflective
