Gunmage
Chapter 104: The pact and the burial

Chapter 104: Chapter 104: The pact and the burial

"I see"

Lugh concluded, his voice deep and ominous, his tone devoid of any urgency or surprise.

For a moment, Isolde thought something might happen. Her breath got stuck in her throat, until he followed up calmly.

"You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell anyone."

She blinked.

He had agreed, just like that. No terms, no conditions.

She had fully expected him to demand she teach him magic, something her younger self would definitely do and something her present self would reluctantly fulfill.

Not because she wanted to, but because it would tie him to their shared fate. It would have been smart, and Lugh always struck her as a calculating boy.

But here he was, detached. Even the way he had responded to her speech, the questions he asked, they’d carried curiosity, not emotion.

No shock. No disbelief. Nothing like what she had felt at his age.

She remembered her own revelation, how the world had shifted sideways when her family first told her at thirteen. She had been a wreck of emotions.

Lugh was only two years older, but the age gap didn’t explain the eerie calm he maintained.

He accepted it fast.

Too fast.

Her brows furrowed, and she eyed him warily.

Lugh noticed her glance, and exhaled in exasperation, this time only in his mind.

"No need to be so on guard"

He said, his voice cool and measured.

"I have a few secrets of my own."

Far more dangerous ones, in fact—ones that made her confession look like a petty family squabble or local prejudice.

His thoughts drifted back to the Dark Island.

Back to when he had once, in desperation, asked Xhi how he could escape.

"There is no escape"

She had said.

He’d taken her words literally. And for months, he’d sunk into hollow despair, convinced he was doomed to remain there forever.

Until one day, the flaw in his question revealed itself to him like a crack in the surface of his prison.

Not being able to escape didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t leave.

That tiny revelation shifted everything.

He’d returned to Xhi with a new proposal. She had met him with that unreadable smile—half kindness, half cruelty—and clapped once in applause.

Wit is not the same as wisdom, child. But it will serve.

She had given him a task. And it had been staggering.

Unlike Lovainne, who had to accomplish one thing she would ask of him in the future, Xhi had told Lugh what he had to do. In no uncertain terms.

And the cost of failure... was worse than death.

Far worse.

Xhi wasn’t just the priestess of _It_.

She was the voice. The mouth of the eldritch god. Quite literally.

The Mawglass had been given to him then, an artifact and a tether. A tool, yes, but also a reminder of the bargain he had made.

And when he thought about the string of events that followed—Aldric’s betrayal, the priestess’s timely ’intervention’, their forced departure—it all seemed too perfectly arranged.

Coincidence? No.

Surveillance.

One hundred percent.

Lugh sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. The weight of it all, centuries, voices and visions, pressed in in him.

"Are we done here?"

He finally asked.

"Y–yes, we are"

Isolde answered, a bit stunned.

She lingered, visibly uncertain.

"Come meet me three days from now"

She said after a pause.

"I’ll teach you magic."

I’d rather not.

The words echoed in his head, but he swallowed them. He knew her game. She wanted them all in the same boat—so that if it capsized, none of them would swim.

"Why not now? Or tomorrow?"

He asked, voice still unreadable.

"I have important things to do"

She replied in a vague manner.

Lugh didn’t move. He stared at her silently, still unconvinced.

She added quickly,

"It’s really important. A lot of our security needs to be replaced."

Lugh suddenly stilled. A flicker of something igniting in the depths of his eyes.

"A few days ago, a building collapsed in this estate"

He said softly.

"You mean the guards’ quarters?"

Silence.

Isolde’s stomach twisted.

Then, finally, Lugh nodded once.

"I see"

He murmured, and without another word, turned and left the room.

She sat there alone, chilled by the brief but heavy pause.

"What was that all about?"

...

Dawn broke fast. Before even the first rays touched the cold stone floors of the estate, Lugh had already left his room.

He walked with purpose, boots quiet on dewy grass, past the manor and into the deep woods that bordered the estate’s vast gardens.

He wheeled a barrow and carried a shovel, stopping every so often to pick up medium to large-sized stones. His gaze was distant.

The woods stretched wide. Old trees with bark like iron, branches twisting in geometric patterns like hands grasping for the sky.

Scarlet leaves from bloodmaple trees swayed gently, shedding red veils across the mossy floor.

Lugh found a suitable patch of cleared land and raised his tools. Without hesitation, he began to dig.

...

Lirienne awoke with a gasp.

Her nightgown clung to her skin, drenched in sweat. Her heart pounded.

A nightmare.

A terrible one. Her entire family had been replaced, worn by a monster with black and red eyes, draped in human skin.

She sat up quickly.

"Lugh..."

Still trembling, she slapped her cheeks lightly to shake the dream off. Her morning routine started on autopilot, long ingrained from years of noble training.

She lit the crystal-lamp with a flicker of her hand, washed her face with chilled rosewater from the silver basin, brushed and braided her dark hair, and selected a light indoor dress of soft lavender silk.

No corset, no formal jewels, just a satin ribbon and an embroidered shawl over her shoulders.

She applied a touch of lip tint, inspected herself in the full mirror, then nodded once.

Proper. Presentable. Polished.

Wait—

Her eyes narrowed.

Where’s my book?

A sudden flash of memory.

She’d left it in Lugh’s room.

Not that it mattered, she had been planning on going there anyway.

Descending the grand stairs, she passed through the east wing’s sunlit hallway, each step echoing softly.

Her fingers reached for his door, then paused mid-air. A beat passed. She straightened her back and knocked, politely.

A tired voice answered from within.

"Who is it?"

Lirienne froze.

Mirelle?

That made no sense.

Unless—

Decorum evaporated. She threw the door open wide.