I feel oddly reminiscent as I step down the creaky steps into the old cellar I shared with Edmund for a few days. Back then, I knew so little. During the days I spent in training and comfort, he ruthlessly fought, keeping the wave of monsters, Outlaws, and occasional demons at bay.
Back then, this place was so dark, something I could only see through with candles lit or the door open, but with just my alter sight of chains, everything is revealed to me instantly. The rat in the corner, hiding from intruders, is the most obvious, but I do notice something else. A piece of paper is placed on one of the weathered tables in the back. I walk over to it as Johnny steps down into the cellar as well, his eyes taking in the place I told him about just a few hours ago.
After just a few seconds of walking, I reach for the paper and grab it, lifting it to my eyes.
Should you find this Killian, know your son is alive. It has been many years since we saw each other, but I hope you are well. Time does much to the mind, and for one such as you, I'm sure you're a different man from the lackadaisical one I remember. Just… don't let the boy wait too long. He needs you, friend. I can see the hidden pain behind his eyes that even he does not yet understand. He's not like you, unable to feel the world's woes. You might be able to brave any foe, but he cannot. I fear he may break.
However, I will teach him all I can until you find us. A debt owed is always paid, but I'd do it anyway for you, Killian. This is the last place I'll be able to leave a note or an Inscription, so just know he is safe. And I will do everything I can to ensure it is so. I may be old, but I still have some tricks left.
Sincerely,
Edmund Dudley
My eyes water as I read the words written over six months ago, the time spinning from mid-autumn to late spring. Even Edmund held hope that my father would come, but he never did. Why? Why would he not come? Edmund was willing to die for the debt he owed Killian, but the bastard still hadn't shown himself even half a year later.
I guess I learned something new, though. Edmund left behind tracks for Killian to follow, with this one being the last. Taking a deep breath, I fold the paper and put it in my pocket, yet another thing for me to remember the old man by now that he is truly gone.
When I turn around, I meet with Johnny, his eyes looking straight at a ring built out of dirt on the ground of the cellar. I answer him without him even asking.
"Edmund made that for us to practice with. Of course, he beat my ass quite a lot, but he never went overboard like Virgil's teachers did."
Johnny nods sagely as he kneels and touches the dirt.
"Edmund's training is said to be the best. I wish I could have had even just a bit of it. But, unfortunately, as far as I know, only four of his students remain, including you, the rest dead from prior wars."
I shake my head sadly as we walk toward the exit, the man speaking again.
"Hopefully, one day, we can reunite you with them. I'm sure Edward would love to meet you. I've only met him once, but the man seemed like an exact copy of you, only older."
The creak of the stairs of my walking up is my only reply. I'm not sure if I'd want to meet Edward. The whole world thinks I killed Edmund, or at least that portrait of me and my abilities. I can't see that interaction going nicely.
Johnny pats my shoulder once we exit the cellar, the man walking back toward the front carriage. I diverge from him and stumble back toward the medical wagon with Heath. My steps are a bit smoother from yesterday but still weak. I left Abraham in there, and Johnny let it happen as he went into the cellar with me. But as I step toward it, I hear a conversation on the inside, one voice being Abraham's and the other, surprisingly, Skyswain's.
"Don't be too loud; he shouldn't wake up yet."
I stop my movement as I stand still and listen, curious about the interaction between the half-Nahullo and Bado. Skyswain seems somewhat philosophical as she asks Abraham a question.
"Hmm. Bonfire. What was so special about such an odd man?"
Abraham answers not so briefly, his voice challenging to discern the meaning through the canvas.
“He… he is… I don't know. Emmet Knox just seems to gather people around him unintentionally. Johnny does it on purpose for a goal, but others, like Bonfire's small crew, who are always around this wagon, congregate around his personality. His laugh is infectious, and his personality is annoying yet joyful. The child from the slums of Blackreach burns with a fire unlike any other. I've always wondered why he joined with Johnny as Bonfire is perfectly capable of creating his own crew or squad, but he always kept it cryptic."
A low grumble comes from Skyswain as she responds to Abraham.
"And it was for that Chaser died? An electric personality? I haven't seen much of that."
The pale man sighs, a blunt retort coming as I hear him stand in the wagon.
"You haven't seen Bonfire during both the happy and stressful times. He can go from grave and murderous to jovial and kind in a minute. It seems psychotic, but it just works to raise spirits with him. Once you get used to it, it can lessen stress in the worst of times and make the best of times even brighter. I hate to admit it, but if he doesn't recover, I'll miss him making me fight and dragging me to a bar afterward."
At the end of his talking, the wagons start moving again, so I have to reach up and pull myself inside, my arm trembling from the motion. I peek my head in and act like I didn't hear anything as I sit beside Abraham, a short smile on my face.
The two, Abraham and Skyswain, just shuffle to make comfortable room as the conversation grinds to a halt with my entry. My attention transfers to Bonfire's resting form, his chest projecting up and down with gradual movement. Finally, I try to restart the conversation on my own.
"How are you doing, Skyswain? Does it feel good to be out of Starkbluffs?"
The Bado gives me a short murderous glance before shifting to something softer as she realizes the harshness.
"I-I am doing fine. I should get back to scouting, though. Good day."
I reach out and try to stop her from leaving, but blue sparks cover the steel feathers on her back as she steps out of the wagon and leaps into the air. Once I concede she's not coming back, I turn to Abraham.
"Hey– why'd she go?"
A gradual build appears on Abraham's lips as he laughs.
"She doesn't really like talking, Wyatt. I'm also pretty sure she feels guilty for being so useless to help her mate. I can understand the feeling quite well."
I grow silent as my gaze lies heavy on the sleeping Bonfire. It feels so quiet without his constant nagging, the twin duo of Otto and Marion, and the noisy Vernon. I hope at least he gets better. I don't know how much I agree with what Abraham said about Bonfire's personality, but then again, he's spent far more time with the pyro than I have.
After a few moments, I lean my head back in the wagon, Dakota still sleeping on one of the seats from earlier beside me, and I drift off for a quick nap to pass the time. The faster I get to that damn Vault, the better. And we're getting really close.
*****************
I step off the wagon, the series of wooden carriages Sacate had hidden before entering Starkbluffs, saving us time and effort. Before my eyes is a remote cabin surrounded by various training gear. Things look damaged and thrown all over, but nothing is completely destroyed, not even Edmund's house.
As I stroll closer, Johnny walks along, his eyes taking in the building as the groups of people behind us unload their gear. We plan on staying here for a while to gather everything we can. But as I get nearer to the cabin, Johnny speaks, his feet almost instantly bringing him to the closed door. His hand runs along the wood with a kind of reverence.
"Incredible. I've heard of people who can leave behind lingering Ether, but they are all Angels. Even I don't know how to do that yet, but Edmund could as a 3rd Sigil."
I move up next to Johnny and notice intricate lines of chains built into the wood of Edmund's cabin. An idle power in this wood reminds me of the weird effects within the house. Gently, I push Johnny aside as I open the door.
"Probably best if I do this. I've been in before, after all. Who knows what Edmund left behind for intruders."
Johnny nods and lets me do so, leaving me with even more admiration for my teacher.
"I have no idea how Inscriptions work. All I know is it requires Living Strand Ether, the same requirement for Excavator. For Edmund to achieve such a thing… Had the old man been given a chance to become a Hunter a decade earlier, in his twenties instead of his mid-thirties, I'm sure we'd have another Pillar. Had he started even earlier… who knows."
I nod with agreement, my adoration for my teacher at a level that could never be toppled. His control of Ether was so incredible he could keep up with those far beyond his Sigil. I wonder, though, why is it so hard for the old men to advance? Why is it so much more common for young people to grow than the old?
Unable to find a quick answer, I seek on in the cabin. My legs bring me into the place once the door opens. My breath hitches for a second as I look at it all, the chairs, tables, and fireplace. Everything inside appears to be the same as we left it.
But I do notice something different, the alter sight of my chains allowing me to see glowing Ether beneath my feet, rippling with my steps. I don't know the effects, but I'm sure they're powerful. So why didn't we just stay here? This cabin must be a fortress of some kind to have such intricate Ether working within it.
Maybe he was unconfident about keeping it going against a united force. It would have just been Edmund holding everything running, after all. One mishap, and we'd both be locked in to die.
I walk through the small house, Johnny cautiously behind me as we investigate it for any changes. Nothing seems to be different. Even the hallway of rooms is just as trippy as last time, the space stretching to fit more than it should. I laugh as I see the Angel gobsmacked at the effect.
"There is no way Edmund did this! How!? I–!? What?"
Seeing him unable to understand what is happening, I pull him toward where I remember the Vault's entrance to be. I push aside the carpet in the way and place my hand roughly on the spot by the fireplace that he did, my memory working overtime to be correct. For a second, I worry that I forgot, but after a rumble, the floor slides away to reveal the ladder that goes down into the Vault with alcoves of still-lit lanterns illuminating the pit.
I climb down first, taking the lead in case of any traps. I do remember Edmund saying something about how difficult it is to break into the Vaults. Still, I don't know if it was solely because of their durability or dangerousness. It doesn't hurt to be careful.
Rung after rung, I make my way down, Johnny just above me. I can hear people talking and setting our stuff up outside, everyone excited about what's in the Vault, which only thrills me more. When I was here the first time, Edmund only let me near the weaker Claymore and Colts, not allowing me to step close to the higher Flammes and Marks.
And as I reach the end of the ladder, my feet hitting the ground, I can't help but smile as I turn to face the Vault. But as I bear a glimpse at it, I'm forced to cover my eyes, the twisting lines of Ether in my vision of chains so blinding it hurts.
Squinting my eyes as Johnny lands behind me, the sound of his boots on stone, I finally get a peek at the Vault after so long.
The twelve-foot tall door made entirely of dark steel with a handle made out of a similarly colored and textured wheel meets us. I step toward the Vault as Johnny, with an uncharacteristic tremble in his voice, proposes to me a question.
"D-did Edmund ever say which Vault this was?"
Curious at his demeanor, I turn and reply.
"Uh… yeah, I think it was the seventh of the Southwest or something. Why?"
Johnny's eyes widen at my words, and I can visibly see his hands shake as if grasping for something.
"Wyatt… Vaults were only built in the Southwest. The Nightly Sentinel, the man who was the Prime before the Swarming Wastelander, started building them in the Southwest, placing them where we were most likely to lose territory. He only stopped because war broke out, and he was needed."
My mind starts turning, the gears working on remembering something Johnny mentioned long ago. I can't help but smile as the words come to the forefront.
The first ten Vaults had legendary weapons placed inside, each made by Prime himself. Each is said to be crafted with at least seven Sigils, something that never occurred before the Nightly Sentinel, as human craftsmanship was not yet up to par with artifacts until then. I mean, it still isn't, but the gap has been massively closed since then.
At the time, I thought he meant seven as in the seventh of this area, not the seventh in all.
"That means…"
Johnny steps forward toward the Vault door, an excited shout leaving him.
"Get this thing open, Wyatt! Edmund was guarding a fucking Lumen!"
My heart quickens. A Lumen. The name for the absolute greatest works of craftwork from humanity, pieces that are so brilliant, they illuminate the world, coined by Arnold Pinler, the Nightly Sentinel.
As far as I know, only eleven exist. Ten were made by Arnold, of which only four are possessed by humans, the rest scattered or lost, and the other one by Eli Weiss. Each item is just as legendary as an Arca, the Angelic artifacts.
I step forward and place my hand on the wheel of steel as I feel it prick my hand to draw blood, the needed key. But I ignore it as it does so, my mind spinning through the five known Lumens, each denoted by their power from Arnold, with Eli's at last as it was not made by a former Prime.
Coiled Steam, the 11th Lumen, made by Eli Weiss, acts as a suit of coiling armor capable of firing steam jets to kill foes. Thirty years ago, it was the first Armament before the Pygmies stole the idea and mass-produced them with their Craftsman.
Steelhoard, the weakest Lumen made by Arnold, the 10th. It is a Claymore made to fit onto the wrist and is entirely concealable, able to turn into any weapon imaginable. Park Callahan, the Pillar of Northene, a small Territory by Gravescross, owns this Lumen.
Mindsplitter, the 9th Lumen, is a Colt capable of piercing flesh and the mind. Laura Crease of Gravescross wields Mindsplitter aptly enough to be the only Territory not ruled by a Pillar. Though, she does have help from two other Forerunners.
The following five are unknown, either lost or stolen by other races, but I figure since this is the seventh Vault, we may get the 7th Lumen.
The 3rd Lumen is Ocean's Tempo. The legendary Claymore that gave Maddox Adkins, the Sea's Shadow, his initial fame. Nowadays, it's said it's hard to tell what is the Claymore and what is him, the two so perfectly entwined on Lawless Lake, but its power focuses on water, hurricanes, and ice.
The 2nd is lost to time, some thinking it never existed to begin with.
And finally, the mightiest yet most dangerous Lumen, Demonsbane. This is said to be the pinnacle of human handiwork ever. It is made with nine Sigils, something impossible to even imagine for most. With zero contention, the blade is meant solely for combat. Even the Hallowed One, Ed Summers, a Virtued Angel himself of eight Sigils, can only draw the sword when it is allowed to sate itself on blood.
When Demonsbane is unsheathed, it must kill. The Prime gifted the Claymore to Ed when he held the invasion of the Nahullo almost fifty years ago. Every time Ed draws the blade. However, his lifespan is said to wane, so he doesn't fight as he used to and is relegated to a weaker Pillar. But, the Swarming Wastelander has no need for weapons; his Ether alone suffices for any foe, even those millennia-old demons in the Wilds.
By the time my thoughts end, the door is already unlocked, the streams of Ether converging as I absentmindedly twist the metal wheel. And before Johnny and my eyes, the Vault opens with a loud clank and creak, the door opening inward to reveal the weapons within.
And just like last time, I'm amazed by the dozens of weapons within, each possessing at least one Sigil and radiant with Ether, but in a glass case toward the back burns a menacing magenta. The chains of the flintlock revolver are so shining in my vision that it is the only thing I can see.
It is made with cherry-tinted wood, the color of the stain fighting against the magenta-colored chains as the six-cylinder flintlock, obviously made over a hundred years ago, sits with air-stilling intent. The barrel seems to be a dark black, one completely unadorned with any flourish or symbols, just an abyssal black that draws in the mind.
I glance at Johnny and nod to him. The Angel smiles like a child in a candy store.
"Get your gun, Johnny."
I follow behind him as I read the label on the case holding the weapon inside.
The 7th - Fate Sealer
I feel oddly reminiscent as I step down the creaky steps into the old cellar I shared with Edmund for a few days. Back then, I knew so little. During the days I spent in training and comfort, he ruthlessly fought, keeping the wave of monsters, Outlaws, and occasional demons at bay.
Back then, this place was so dark, something I could only see through with candles lit or the door open, but with just my alter sight of chains, everything is revealed to me instantly. The rat in the corner, hiding from intruders, is the most obvious, but I do notice something else. A piece of paper is placed on one of the weathered tables in the back. I walk over to it as Johnny steps down into the cellar as well, his eyes taking in the place I told him about just a few hours ago.
After just a few seconds of walking, I reach for the paper and grab it, lifting it to my eyes.
Should you find this Killian, know your son is alive. It has been many years since we saw each other, but I hope you are well. Time does much to the mind, and for one such as you, I'm sure you're a different man from the lackadaisical one I remember. Just… don't let the boy wait too long. He needs you, friend. I can see the hidden pain behind his eyes that even he does not yet understand. He's not like you, unable to feel the world's woes. You might be able to brave any foe, but he cannot. I fear he may break.
However, I will teach him all I can until you find us. A debt owed is always paid, but I'd do it anyway for you, Killian. This is the last place I'll be able to leave a note or an Inscription, so just know he is safe. And I will do everything I can to ensure it is so. I may be old, but I still have some tricks left.
Sincerely,
Edmund Dudley
My eyes water as I read the words written over six months ago, the time spinning from mid-autumn to late spring. Even Edmund held hope that my father would come, but he never did. Why? Why would he not come? Edmund was willing to die for the debt he owed Killian, but the bastard still hadn't shown himself even half a year later.
I guess I learned something new, though. Edmund left behind tracks for Killian to follow, with this one being the last. Taking a deep breath, I fold the paper and put it in my pocket, yet another thing for me to remember the old man by now that he is truly gone.
When I turn around, I meet with Johnny, his eyes looking straight at a ring built out of dirt on the ground of the cellar. I answer him without him even asking.
"Edmund made that for us to practice with. Of course, he beat my ass quite a lot, but he never went overboard like Virgil's teachers did."
Johnny nods sagely as he kneels and touches the dirt.
"Edmund's training is said to be the best. I wish I could have had even just a bit of it. But, unfortunately, as far as I know, only four of his students remain, including you, the rest dead from prior wars."
I shake my head sadly as we walk toward the exit, the man speaking again.
"Hopefully, one day, we can reunite you with them. I'm sure Edward would love to meet you. I've only met him once, but the man seemed like an exact copy of you, only older."
The creak of the stairs of my walking up is my only reply. I'm not sure if I'd want to meet Edward. The whole world thinks I killed Edmund, or at least that portrait of me and my abilities. I can't see that interaction going nicely.
Johnny pats my shoulder once we exit the cellar, the man walking back toward the front carriage. I diverge from him and stumble back toward the medical wagon with Heath. My steps are a bit smoother from yesterday but still weak. I left Abraham in there, and Johnny let it happen as he went into the cellar with me. But as I step toward it, I hear a conversation on the inside, one voice being Abraham's and the other, surprisingly, Skyswain's.
"Don't be too loud; he shouldn't wake up yet."
I stop my movement as I stand still and listen, curious about the interaction between the half-Nahullo and Bado. Skyswain seems somewhat philosophical as she asks Abraham a question.
"Hmm. Bonfire. What was so special about such an odd man?"
Abraham answers not so briefly, his voice challenging to discern the meaning through the canvas.
“He… he is… I don't know. Emmet Knox just seems to gather people around him unintentionally. Johnny does it on purpose for a goal, but others, like Bonfire's small crew, who are always around this wagon, congregate around his personality. His laugh is infectious, and his personality is annoying yet joyful. The child from the slums of Blackreach burns with a fire unlike any other. I've always wondered why he joined with Johnny as Bonfire is perfectly capable of creating his own crew or squad, but he always kept it cryptic."
A low grumble comes from Skyswain as she responds to Abraham.
"And it was for that Chaser died? An electric personality? I haven't seen much of that."
The pale man sighs, a blunt retort coming as I hear him stand in the wagon.
"You haven't seen Bonfire during both the happy and stressful times. He can go from grave and murderous to jovial and kind in a minute. It seems psychotic, but it just works to raise spirits with him. Once you get used to it, it can lessen stress in the worst of times and make the best of times even brighter. I hate to admit it, but if he doesn't recover, I'll miss him making me fight and dragging me to a bar afterward."
At the end of his talking, the wagons start moving again, so I have to reach up and pull myself inside, my arm trembling from the motion. I peek my head in and act like I didn't hear anything as I sit beside Abraham, a short smile on my face.
The two, Abraham and Skyswain, just shuffle to make comfortable room as the conversation grinds to a halt with my entry. My attention transfers to Bonfire's resting form, his chest projecting up and down with gradual movement. Finally, I try to restart the conversation on my own.
"How are you doing, Skyswain? Does it feel good to be out of Starkbluffs?"
The Bado gives me a short murderous glance before shifting to something softer as she realizes the harshness.
"I-I am doing fine. I should get back to scouting, though. Good day."
I reach out and try to stop her from leaving, but blue sparks cover the steel feathers on her back as she steps out of the wagon and leaps into the air. Once I concede she's not coming back, I turn to Abraham.
"Hey– why'd she go?"
A gradual build appears on Abraham's lips as he laughs.
"She doesn't really like talking, Wyatt. I'm also pretty sure she feels guilty for being so useless to help her mate. I can understand the feeling quite well."
I grow silent as my gaze lies heavy on the sleeping Bonfire. It feels so quiet without his constant nagging, the twin duo of Otto and Marion, and the noisy Vernon. I hope at least he gets better. I don't know how much I agree with what Abraham said about Bonfire's personality, but then again, he's spent far more time with the pyro than I have.
After a few moments, I lean my head back in the wagon, Dakota still sleeping on one of the seats from earlier beside me, and I drift off for a quick nap to pass the time. The faster I get to that damn Vault, the better. And we're getting really close.
*****************
I step off the wagon, the series of wooden carriages Sacate had hidden before entering Starkbluffs, saving us time and effort. Before my eyes is a remote cabin surrounded by various training gear. Things look damaged and thrown all over, but nothing is completely destroyed, not even Edmund's house.
As I stroll closer, Johnny walks along, his eyes taking in the building as the groups of people behind us unload their gear. We plan on staying here for a while to gather everything we can. But as I get nearer to the cabin, Johnny speaks, his feet almost instantly bringing him to the closed door. His hand runs along the wood with a kind of reverence.
"Incredible. I've heard of people who can leave behind lingering Ether, but they are all Angels. Even I don't know how to do that yet, but Edmund could as a 3rd Sigil."
I move up next to Johnny and notice intricate lines of chains built into the wood of Edmund's cabin. An idle power in this wood reminds me of the weird effects within the house. Gently, I push Johnny aside as I open the door.
"Probably best if I do this. I've been in before, after all. Who knows what Edmund left behind for intruders."
Johnny nods and lets me do so, leaving me with even more admiration for my teacher.
"I have no idea how Inscriptions work. All I know is it requires Living Strand Ether, the same requirement for Excavator. For Edmund to achieve such a thing… Had the old man been given a chance to become a Hunter a decade earlier, in his twenties instead of his mid-thirties, I'm sure we'd have another Pillar. Had he started even earlier… who knows."
I nod with agreement, my adoration for my teacher at a level that could never be toppled. His control of Ether was so incredible he could keep up with those far beyond his Sigil. I wonder, though, why is it so hard for the old men to advance? Why is it so much more common for young people to grow than the old?
Unable to find a quick answer, I seek on in the cabin. My legs bring me into the place once the door opens. My breath hitches for a second as I look at it all, the chairs, tables, and fireplace. Everything inside appears to be the same as we left it.
But I do notice something different, the alter sight of my chains allowing me to see glowing Ether beneath my feet, rippling with my steps. I don't know the effects, but I'm sure they're powerful. So why didn't we just stay here? This cabin must be a fortress of some kind to have such intricate Ether working within it.
Maybe he was unconfident about keeping it going against a united force. It would have just been Edmund holding everything running, after all. One mishap, and we'd both be locked in to die.
I walk through the small house, Johnny cautiously behind me as we investigate it for any changes. Nothing seems to be different. Even the hallway of rooms is just as trippy as last time, the space stretching to fit more than it should. I laugh as I see the Angel gobsmacked at the effect.
"There is no way Edmund did this! How!? I–!? What?"
Seeing him unable to understand what is happening, I pull him toward where I remember the Vault's entrance to be. I push aside the carpet in the way and place my hand roughly on the spot by the fireplace that he did, my memory working overtime to be correct. For a second, I worry that I forgot, but after a rumble, the floor slides away to reveal the ladder that goes down into the Vault with alcoves of still-lit lanterns illuminating the pit.
I climb down first, taking the lead in case of any traps. I do remember Edmund saying something about how difficult it is to break into the Vaults. Still, I don't know if it was solely because of their durability or dangerousness. It doesn't hurt to be careful.
Rung after rung, I make my way down, Johnny just above me. I can hear people talking and setting our stuff up outside, everyone excited about what's in the Vault, which only thrills me more. When I was here the first time, Edmund only let me near the weaker Claymore and Colts, not allowing me to step close to the higher Flammes and Marks.
And as I reach the end of the ladder, my feet hitting the ground, I can't help but smile as I turn to face the Vault. But as I bear a glimpse at it, I'm forced to cover my eyes, the twisting lines of Ether in my vision of chains so blinding it hurts.
Squinting my eyes as Johnny lands behind me, the sound of his boots on stone, I finally get a peek at the Vault after so long.
The twelve-foot tall door made entirely of dark steel with a handle made out of a similarly colored and textured wheel meets us. I step toward the Vault as Johnny, with an uncharacteristic tremble in his voice, proposes to me a question.
"D-did Edmund ever say which Vault this was?"
Curious at his demeanor, I turn and reply.
"Uh… yeah, I think it was the seventh of the Southwest or something. Why?"
Johnny's eyes widen at my words, and I can visibly see his hands shake as if grasping for something.
"Wyatt… Vaults were only built in the Southwest. The Nightly Sentinel, the man who was the Prime before the Swarming Wastelander, started building them in the Southwest, placing them where we were most likely to lose territory. He only stopped because war broke out, and he was needed."
My mind starts turning, the gears working on remembering something Johnny mentioned long ago. I can't help but smile as the words come to the forefront.
The first ten Vaults had legendary weapons placed inside, each made by Prime himself. Each is said to be crafted with at least seven Sigils, something that never occurred before the Nightly Sentinel, as human craftsmanship was not yet up to par with artifacts until then. I mean, it still isn't, but the gap has been massively closed since then.
At the time, I thought he meant seven as in the seventh of this area, not the seventh in all.
"That means…"
Johnny steps forward toward the Vault door, an excited shout leaving him.
"Get this thing open, Wyatt! Edmund was guarding a fucking Lumen!"
My heart quickens. A Lumen. The name for the absolute greatest works of craftwork from humanity, pieces that are so brilliant, they illuminate the world, coined by Arnold Pinler, the Nightly Sentinel.
As far as I know, only eleven exist. Ten were made by Arnold, of which only four are possessed by humans, the rest scattered or lost, and the other one by Eli Weiss. Each item is just as legendary as an Arca, the Angelic artifacts.
I step forward and place my hand on the wheel of steel as I feel it prick my hand to draw blood, the needed key. But I ignore it as it does so, my mind spinning through the five known Lumens, each denoted by their power from Arnold, with Eli's at last as it was not made by a former Prime.
Coiled Steam, the 11th Lumen, made by Eli Weiss, acts as a suit of coiling armor capable of firing steam jets to kill foes. Thirty years ago, it was the first Armament before the Pygmies stole the idea and mass-produced them with their Craftsman.
Steelhoard, the weakest Lumen made by Arnold, the 10th. It is a Claymore made to fit onto the wrist and is entirely concealable, able to turn into any weapon imaginable. Park Callahan, the Pillar of Northene, a small Territory by Gravescross, owns this Lumen.
Mindsplitter, the 9th Lumen, is a Colt capable of piercing flesh and the mind. Laura Crease of Gravescross wields Mindsplitter aptly enough to be the only Territory not ruled by a Pillar. Though, she does have help from two other Forerunners.
The following five are unknown, either lost or stolen by other races, but I figure since this is the seventh Vault, we may get the 7th Lumen.
The 3rd Lumen is Ocean's Tempo. The legendary Claymore that gave Maddox Adkins, the Sea's Shadow, his initial fame. Nowadays, it's said it's hard to tell what is the Claymore and what is him, the two so perfectly entwined on Lawless Lake, but its power focuses on water, hurricanes, and ice.
The 2nd is lost to time, some thinking it never existed to begin with.
And finally, the mightiest yet most dangerous Lumen, Demonsbane. This is said to be the pinnacle of human handiwork ever. It is made with nine Sigils, something impossible to even imagine for most. With zero contention, the blade is meant solely for combat. Even the Hallowed One, Ed Summers, a Virtued Angel himself of eight Sigils, can only draw the sword when it is allowed to sate itself on blood.
When Demonsbane is unsheathed, it must kill. The Prime gifted the Claymore to Ed when he held the invasion of the Nahullo almost fifty years ago. Every time Ed draws the blade. However, his lifespan is said to wane, so he doesn't fight as he used to and is relegated to a weaker Pillar. But, the Swarming Wastelander has no need for weapons; his Ether alone suffices for any foe, even those millennia-old demons in the Wilds.
By the time my thoughts end, the door is already unlocked, the streams of Ether converging as I absentmindedly twist the metal wheel. And before Johnny and my eyes, the Vault opens with a loud clank and creak, the door opening inward to reveal the weapons within.
And just like last time, I'm amazed by the dozens of weapons within, each possessing at least one Sigil and radiant with Ether, but in a glass case toward the back burns a menacing magenta. The chains of the flintlock revolver are so shining in my vision that it is the only thing I can see.
It is made with cherry-tinted wood, the color of the stain fighting against the magenta-colored chains as the six-cylinder flintlock, obviously made over a hundred years ago, sits with air-stilling intent. The barrel seems to be a dark black, one completely unadorned with any flourish or symbols, just an abyssal black that draws in the mind.
I glance at Johnny and nod to him. The Angel smiles like a child in a candy store.
"Get your gun, Johnny."
I follow behind him as I read the label on the case holding the weapon inside.
The 7th - Fate Sealer
