Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game
Chapter 141: Ch139. Home, sweet home (4) - Like a ghost that forgot it was dead

Chapter 141: Ch139. Home, sweet home (4) - Like a ghost that forgot it was dead

The clash of metal rang out in sharp bursts, followed by the low thud of a body hitting the stone floor. The Archivist’s study was silent otherwise, save for the occasional shuffle of boots and the steady hum of the sigils embedded into the chamber’s walls behind the bookshelves.

Mara sat cross-legged on the raised platform near the edge of the sparring circle, one hand propping up her chin, the other twirling a worn hex-bit between her fingers. She did not blink during the sparring.

She could not, since she was the one analyzing their movements to make some improvements in their gear.

Below her, Diego staggered back to his feet with a grunt, his shirt clinging to him, soaked through with sweat. His chest heaved. Across from him, Sarissa did not look winded at all.

Calm, composed, blade at the ready. The Archivist stood off to the side, watching them with hollow, unreadable violet-milky eyes, arms tucked neatly behind her back.

That damn emotionless expression and body language of hers.

Diego lunged again. Another clash, another fall.

Mara winced slightly but said nothing. Sarissa was not going easy on him.

She never did, but Diego was growing teeth by the second. Faster than she could keep up with. Mara did not know if it was something to be celebrated or to be afraid of, but he was growing, and it was more than she could have asked for, since Miles had asked her to take care of him until he came back.

Miles...

The thought hit her like a hammer, but she rapidly threw it away. There was no reason to dwell on past memories now.

Even Diego seemed to have forgotten him, even if ever so slightly. The training and his becoming of the Black Market’s messiah had done a lot for this.

And she trusted Sarissa to help him get rid of the rest of the painful memories, along with to teach him how to fight properly.

"Again." The Archivist said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Yet, it carried like thunder.

Diego groaned and scrambled back into position.

Mara let her eyes drift upward. The ceiling of the study was etched with silver-lined glyphs, slowly rotating in time with the city’s artificial pulse. This place always made her feel like she was inside a memory that did not belong to her. A pocket of time stitched into the dying body of the world.

She never liked staying here too long. But it was safe, and right now, safe was rare.

Sarissa moved forward again, her blade flicking out in a feint before sweeping low. Diego jumped back just in time, stumbling, better than before. She was getting through to him.

Then, two paused knocks, followed by two fast ones, and one last one, after a few moments.

The sound rang through the stone chamber like a warning bell. Diego immediately froze, panting. Sarissa straightened, her blade lowering.

"What the hell was that?" Diego asked, wiping the back of his arm across his face.

"Check it." Sarissa turned to look at Mara.

Mara sighed, but was already on her feet.

She made her way through the side passage, boots echoing along the narrow corridor that led to the study’s huge door. The Archivist’s domain was buried deep within the Market’s veins, guarded by layers of wards and twisting corridors.

Nobody knocked unless they knew how to get this far.

She unlatched the heavy metal bolt and opened the slot.

An enforcer stared back at her. Tall, dark coat, mask hiding their face.

"Someone used the old password." They said without preamble.

Mara blinked, her heart skipping a beat.

"You sure?" She frowned.

"Crystal."

The enforcer turned and walked off, leaving her with nothing but the soft buzz of silence.

Mara stood there a moment longer, staring at the closed door, fingers tightening around the edge of her belt. Then she opened it and made her way back through the winding halls.

To the entrance.

It was a long walk, but her legs carried her on instinct. Her mind, however, had already fallen behind.

A thousand memories crashed like waves against her skull.

Miles, determined, walking beside her through an alley of broken neon.

Miles, laughing at a stupid joke Diego made.

Miles, gone.

Her steps slowed as she neared the passage where the tunnel narrowed into the corridor that led to the living chaos of the Black Market proper.

She leaned against the wall and waited, letting the storm inside her head settle.

’No.’ She shook her head. ’No hoping.’

Hope was a cruel thing that she had buried beneath her work a long time ago. He had vanished, leaving for a quest he had told them nothing about. And after all this time...

The last time she had let herself believe someone would walk through a door, they never did. So, no. This was not that.

It could not be.

Then, she heard footsteps.

Steady, measured yet urgent, familiar.

"It’s been a while since anyone used that password. Do you mind telling me what brings you to the Black Market-?"

And her heart betrayed her.

It beat so hard it hurt.

When the figure finally stepped into view, silhouetted by the flickering lanterns lining the corridor, she did not breathe.

The coat was the same, though more slightly worn. The scythe was in his hands. His face was sharper, haunted.

But most of all...

She could see his face.

She had always found strange that his face looked kind of blurred every time she looked at him, but now... His features were clear as day.

Disheveled, short black hair, golden-brown eyes, porcelain skin, lips pressed in a tight line, sharp jaw-line.

Her throat closed.

The last time she saw him, he was vanishing into the breach of a place no one knew. And now, here he was, like a ghost that forgot it was dead.

Miles froze too.

For a second, they just stared at each other, caught in some cruel loop of disbelief. Then he took a step forward, lips parting.

"Miles?" She spoke before him.

"Mara." His voice was slightly hesitant, with a hint of urgency underneath it.

Her name on his voice broke the spell.

She did not move, did not speak. She just watched him, grounding herself in everything real. The weight of her boots. The roughness of the wall against her spine. The tension in her jaw.

He was... Here.

He was really here.

Goddamn it.

She let out a slow breath, rolled her shoulders back, and finally spoke.

"Where the hell have you been?"

His smile faltered. He looked down, then back up, eyes darker than she remembered.

"It’s not important."

She flinched. Not visibly, but the words hit wrong.

Not important? After everything?

"Where’s Dee?" He stepped closer.

And that... That stopped her heart completely.

Her voice caught halfway up her throat.

She looked away for the first time, jaw clenched, lips parting, but no sound leaving.

She could lie. She could dodge the question, wrap it in silence like she always did. But his eyes – those damn eyes of his – were already searching hers.

So, she did the only thing she could do.

She told the truth.

"Miles..." She looked at him, and something in her expression cracked for the first time since he arrived. "There’s something you should know."