21-Respondencies

  -Chapter Start: Next day, August 17th, 10:22am

  Another rainy, cozy day.

  The soft rhythm of Valia’s hums ebbed and flowed with the rise and fall of my breathing, her warm breath feathering across my chest. Outside, the rain had settled into a lazy, hypnotic patter—a slow, muted dance against the windows, a far cry from yesterday’s blistering, angry orchestra.

  A gentle paw traced the side of my ribs, her claws gliding over old and new scars alike. Where I would have once flinched from the sensation—each scrape of nail across bruised, battered flesh—it now sparked something closer to a tender ache, a muted reminder of wounds healing rather than fresh pain.

  The night before blurred together in my mind: another bout of rigorous, fevered ‘exercise’ with Valia, both of us fueled by those strange vials of liquid she had coaxed me into trying. I remembered the second vial most clearly—the red one—its warmth surging through my veins like molten gold before the inevitable rupture of pain knocked me cold. When I came to, the rain had softened into its current lullaby, and Valia was curled against me, nuzzling into the crook of my side as if trying to mold herself into me.

  The real shock wasn’t the lingering tenderness. It was the bruises, the deep-set aches and cuts... almost entirely gone. Only faint bruises and light scars remained, whispering of battles fought but long since healed. According to Valia, the vial was a "gift from Vex"—something she used to "keep her partners in tip-top shape", as she coyly phrased it. She wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell me more, brushing off my questions with mischievous smiles and half-hearted shrugs.

  Still, the memory of devouring the last of our leftovers—Valia's laughter in the background as I ate like a man possessed—and then collapsing into another wave of heavy sleep, was vivid. She was thrilled, of course. Something about me being too exhausted to move made me her perfect ‘cuddle-monster’ prisoner. Despite it all, this morning, I felt... good. Reinvigorated. Like the shadows of pain still clung to me, but only loosely, like a forgotten dream.

  ‘You simply experienced all the pain you would have over weeks within a few hours, and healed accordingly.’ Lilith mused inside me; her voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

  ‘That sounds dangerous.’ I closed my eyes, breathing slowly, listening to the soft cadence of Valia’s breathing beside me. It was hard to tell, but I thought maybe she was awake too—listening to mine just as closely.

  ‘A normal human might have died.’ Lilith yawned, her presence flickering and dimming as my mind sharpened. ‘Even without my intervention, you would have survived… Probably.’

  I didn't know what today was going to bring. But for the first time in a while, a small, stubborn part of me felt... accomplished. Like I'd pushed through some unseen wall without even knowing it. Maybe it was foolish, but for a moment, I allowed myself to just exist there—between the slow breath of the woman atop me and the steady heartbeat of the rain. This was something I never knew I wanted, and now that I had it… I never wanted to let go.

  A roll of fiendishly large white claws scraped softly against the far kitchen counter as Valia and I flirted casually over the sizzling pan of breakfast. The pop and crackle of meat on the stove filled the air with a mouthwatering, greasy scent. Both of us turned at the same moment, catching sight of a towering figure perched silently at the counter’s edge.

  It was a massive, feline-like creature, easily as large as either of us even while crouched on all fours. Midnight-black fur shimmered under the dim kitchen light, so sleek and polished it looked almost unnatural—like it would vanish completely in the smallest shadow. Two vivid green eyes watched us intently, unblinking.

  Valia stiffened instantly beside me, her tail puffing, her fur bristling high on end. I felt my heart lurch, primal instinct screaming at the wrongness of something that large and quiet appearing without warning. But before either of us could move, my eyes caught the faint glint of blue around its thick neck—a collar, emblazoned with the insignia of the CDS and a Traveller’s Rune embedded into it. It made no move toward us. Only its heavy gaze flicked slowly between Valia and me, as if weighing, measuring.

  “Mail delivery.” It rumbled, voice low and gravelly enough to crawl up my spine like cold hands.

  It gestured with a subtle tilt of its head toward the top of the counter, making space for me to approach. There, impossibly normal against the surreal presence of the beast, sat two pieces of mail.

  I stepped cautiously forward, glancing at the labels:

  ‘Deliver to: Daegon of the CDS, From: U.R and F.R’

  ‘Correspondent of Kalth, Directed to Mox Daegon of Eerie’s Respite’

  Before I reached for them, a contract shimmered into being in the air between us, like any other CDS delivery. I studied it carefully before giving the slight nod to accept, weary of anything Kalth would send to me, watching as it flared and vanished.

  "Smart. Fey are only trouble." The black feline muttered approvingly, settling onto its haunches without ever breaking eye contact. The meat popped again on the stove, drawing the creature’s nose toward it briefly, nostrils flaring.

  I turned, mail in hand, but couldn’t stop myself from asking, "Who... what are you? I didn’t hear you arrive. I didn’t even feel it."

  Its whiskers twitched, and what I could only describe as a grin twisted the sharpness of its muzzle—barely exposing shining white teeth.

  "Ketzani." It said simply. "Humans have called me Jaguar. Next time we meet might be your last."

  Without another sound, it padded toward the bathroom door, which creaked open of its own accord. Then, as if swallowed by the house itself, Ketzani vanished and the door closed once again.

  The room hung in silence, thick and heavy, for a long moment.

  Valia’s fur slowly settled as she turned back to the stove, flipping the meat with a quick flick of the wrist. "For someone who used to be so afraid of me…" She said, half teasing. "You’re awfully calm around things just because they wear a blue collar."

  "It was already inside." I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. "The collar just... confirmed it wasn’t here to immediately murder us."

  A small, reluctant laugh escaped me along with a yawn. Valia glanced over, half-shocked, half- half-impressed. "Just a little bit of lovin' and you turn into Mister Confident?" Valia teased, sliding a thick slab of meat off the pan onto a plate with a heavy sizzle. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the juiciest rested piece, tore a massive bite from it with a casual snap of her teeth, chewing with a slow, exaggerated satisfaction. The rest of the hunk still hung in her hand, glistening with juices. She dangled it in front of me with a mischievous tilt of her head, pulling it just out of reach when I leaned forward instinctively.

  A slow, wicked grin curled on her lips as she grabbed the front of my shirt and tugged me closer with easy strength. Then, almost lazily, she shoved the rest of the chunk into my mouth—forcing me to tear off a human-sized portion compared to her more monstrous appetite.

  She tossed the remaining strip onto a nearby plate with a wet plap and let out a throaty laugh, the tension of earlier washing away in the heat of the kitchen.

  "Aaahh, as long as that part of you doesn't change, I think I’ll be fine." She said, her tail flicking lightly against my leg as she plucked the mail still clutched in my hand.

  "Important stuff, right?" She grinned. "Don't let me distract you too much."

  "Kanpai!" a group cheered as I stepped into the familiar restaurant, the clink of glasses and warm chatter filling the air. The two ‘mom-and-pop’ chefs I recognized worked steadily behind the counter, their easy rhythm untouched by the growing crowd.

  I glanced down at the envelope in my hand. 'U.R, F.R' was neatly penned across the top. My gaze shifted toward a half-closed private room tucked off to the side. Catching a glimpse of a familiar figure inside, I made my way over.

  Two solid knocks, and I slid the door open.

  "There ya are, you tall drink of gorgeous!" Utagawa crowed, slamming down an empty glass and grinning ear to ear.

  "You're late! We already got a plate ready for you." Fuzu added, nudging a towering plate of food closer to Utagawa’s side of the table.

  "Th-thanks." I said, easing into the seat beside Utagawa and handing her the envelope. "But I ate a bit earlier, so I’ll just graze."

  A contract shimmered briefly into existence as Utagawa touched the envelope, igniting almost immediately in a flicker of blue fire. She tore the top open damaging a side of the note, pulled out the paper inside, and let out a sudden bark of laughter.

  "'Okay'? Just—'Okay'?" she cackled, shoving the slip toward Fuzu.

  Scrawled across the paper, in large, hurried writing, was a single word: Okay.

  "That counts? Oh man, your crazy idea might actually work, huh?" Utagawa said, still grinning.

  "Proof of concept and all that." I said, snagging a piece of spice-dusted meat from the overloaded plate, the scent of roasted herbs and glistening juices hitting me like a freight train. Some deep hunger clawed up through me—more instinct than decision—and I tore into the food like I hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  Mid-bite, I caught Utagawa staring at me with an unreadable look.

  "You've already got new scars?" she asked, leaning closer to poke lightly at my neck. Her finger brushed over the clear shape of teeth marks still faintly visible against my skin. "Don’t tell me your werewolf girl laid claim already."

  "Uuuuuhh…" I stalled, shooting a desperate look at Fuzu for backup. She didn’t even glance up, too busy moving dishes between trays and tables with inhuman speed.

  "Y-yeah. Me and Valia… we uh…" I stammered, feeling the blush heat across my face.

  A bright, delighted smile bloomed across Utagawa's face. She reached over and hugged me tightly before pulling back just enough to slide one of her drinks my way.

  "You gotta tell me everything!" She cooed; her excitement as infectious as it was unexpected.

  Indulging Utagawa took a bit, especially when she ‘wanted to see more proof,’ and Fuzu had to step in, intervening on her irrational behavior. Utagawa sulked briefly before a large bowl was tossed her way, and once again, she happily indulged.

  “What’s the catch for this network, anyway?” Fuzu asked, now focused as she cleared the last of the food from the central cooking area and set two full plates in front of herself. “Sure, we can sell surplus to places that don’t have it, share information about cryptids, maybe even hire others for tasks. But, what do you get out of this?”

  I glanced toward the door to our private room. Lilith’s presence flickered in the back of my mind, and the world shifted, just slightly, in a way only she and I could feel. Beyond that door, no one else was nearby—just the people in the adjacent room.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Well, trust for starters.” I answered. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Fuzu squinted at me between healthy bites. Utagawa, who had already finished and was now savoring her last drink, was far more direct.

  “So, you’re taking a lesson from the Fae. But for what purpose?” Utagawa set her drink down momentarily and stretched, making herself comfortable.

  “Well, originally, I wanted to make enough to maybe retire from the CDS and actually figure out what I enjoy.” I paused, reflecting on the life I had before Lord introduced me to the job, or Zylas originally killed me. Back then, I had no real goal—just aimlessly traveling, watching the weather, tracking cryptids, hunting for food, avoiding memories of the past… no desire, no purpose, just distraction.

  “But an Overseer recently asked for a favor.” I added, leaning back in my chair and glancing upward at the lights and ventilation.

  “An Overseer asked for a favor, from a human?” Fuzu’s voice had a hint of disbelief as she dug into her second plate. “What could cause an Overseer to care enough about to ask a mortal for help?”

  “Balance.” I replied simply. I stretched, feeling the pull of muscle and fatigue. “Humanity and the Supernatural aren’t in balance anymore, and he can’t act because it’s not caused by a Rule-Breaker.”

  “So a human’s causing enough problems to make an Overseer concerned?” Utagawa asked, eyebrows raised.

  “He doesn’t know what’s causing it, just that whatever it is, he can’t touch it. So, he’s piggybacking off my idea to create a deterrent.” I explained. I stretched again, my hands brushing against the wall behind me. The chair shifted back under my weight, the sudden movement punctuating my words with a soft ‘thak!’.

  “He wants enough people to help police the balance he can’t touch. I get it.” Fuzu mused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But doesn’t that mean those who are policing could tilt the balance too?”

  “I guess so.” I said, turning my gaze toward Utagawa. She met my eyes, her playful demeanor now fading slightly into seriousness. “But he’s only asking me to get people I can trust.”

  “You trust Kalth?” Fuzu asked bluntly, drawing my attention back to her.

  “He owes me a favor.” I said, the words coming out carefully. “I’m considering using it to help delegate this hypothetical force—for the betterment of both worlds… Though originally I wanted to avoid that, and add him as a point of contact for the network… Being a powerful Fae and all, he has a lot to trade for.” The thought felt uncertain, hanging in the air like a fragile thread. There were so many risks, so many unknowns, especially with a being like Kalth involved.

  “Bold move.” Utagawa murmured, the playful tone replaced by something more contemplative, as she stared into her drink, lost in thought.

  “Well, if it’s causing an Overseer to have concern, bold moves might be the correct play.” Fuzu responded, finishing her plate and sliding it off. Fuzu paused, her attention shifting to the door behind her. Another clinking of glasses and cheers erupted, but her eyes didn’t move from the doorway. “Well, at least I know you aren’t lying.”

  “Huh?” Utagawa and I questioned in sync, look at each other then back towards the door Fuzu was focused on.

  “Pay your parents and let’s go. I think Daegon was followed.” Fuzu spoke plainly, standing up and walking towards the door.

  As we stepped out of the restaurant, Fuzu motioned for us to follow her down a narrow back alley. The farther we walked, the more the space around us began to shift—alleyways sprawling unnaturally like veins from a heart. The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of damp stone and old metal. Before either of us could question where we were, Fuzu halted and turned around, pressing a finger to her lips.

  “Don’t panic.” she whispered, her voice barely cutting through the building static in the air. She pointed above and behind us. Utagawa and I turned to see…

  A massive human skeleton, towering easily fifty, maybe sixty feet high, loomed above. Its hollow eye sockets stared down at us, casting a long, oppressive shadow that I now realized had followed us all the way from the restaurant. With a slow, agonizing creak of ancient bone, the skeleton extended its hand downward.

  “What the fuck is that!?” Utagawa hissed, grappling onto my shoulders and ducking behind me despite the awkwardness of her height.

  “That’s a, uh… skeleton thing." Fuzu said nonchalantly, almost too casually for comfort. "But the real thing not to panic over is him.”

  I forced myself to stay still, trusting Fuzu even as every instinct screamed otherwise. The skeleton’s hand paused just above the tops of the buildings—and from its skeletal palm, a massive figure jumped. It hit the ground with a bone-rattling crack that sent fine fractures spider-webbing across the concrete around us. Dust and tiny pebbles rolled across the alley floor.

  “And you are?” I called out, forcing my voice steady even as the air itself seemed to tremble.

  The figure straightened slowly from one knee, rising to his full, monstrous height—easily nine feet. Two large black horns, weathered and chipped from countless battles, curved from his head. His skin was a deep cobalt blue, streaked with darker navy undertones that almost resembled old, lingering bruises beneath the surface. His eyes burned molten crimson, slow and deliberate in their focus.

  Thick silver hair, more wild than tame, was tied back into a messy topknot, strands trailing down his spine. Every breath he took appeared to ease a pressure I hadn’t realized was suffocating me until it lifted slightly.

  “Aratake.” He rumbled. His voice didn’t just vibrate through the air—it clawed into the stone and the steel around us, reverberating down to the marrow. I could feel Utagawa trembling behind me, clutching the fabric of my shirt tight. Fuzu, by contrast, simply stepped forward beside me, arms relaxed at her sides.

  “What’s the Overseer want with us—or more specifically, Daegon?” she asked, unfazed.

  It was in that moment I noticed I was shaking too, the adrenaline turning my limbs into live wires. But if Fuzu could stare down a titan without flinching, so could I. Aratake’s crimson gaze swept over the three of us, calculating, weighing. Without a word, he crossed his arms—and then, slowly, reached into the heavy folds of his weather-worn coat. From it, he produced a single envelope, crimson so deep it looked wet, almost bleeding. He extended it toward me.

  I reached out, hesitating only a second. The envelope’s surface was smooth but textured, the color so intense it almost stained my fingertips.

  “What’s this?” I asked, voice quieter now.

  “The Chimera’s message.” Aratake intoned.

  A grand contract flared into existence beside me, its form more elaborate and imposing than any CDS contract I’d seen before. Ornate gold filigree lined the edges. The text, while familiar, seemed heavier, more binding, as if signing it meant something deeper than any mortal agreement could cover. I nodded in understanding, accepting the envelope. As I did, blue fire—deep and slow-burning—consumed the contract, sealing the pact. The fire was cooler than normal, almost like water across my skin, but it left a chill deep inside.

  “Good luck.” Aratake said, crossing his arms again as he turned to leave.

  “Did you only come here to deliver mail? Seems a bit beneath an Overseer." Fuzu quipped dryly.

  “What do you think you’re doing!? That thing will kill us!” Utagawa hissed at her, nearly vibrating with fear.

  Aratake paused, looking over his shoulder. His molten eyes found me again—no anger there, just... calculation. As if assessing how much weight I could actually bear.

  “Lord’s investment.” Aratake said simply.

  Before I could respond, another shockwave exploded outward from where he stood. I flinched, reflexively shielding my face, and when I looked again, he was gone—leaving behind a deep crater in the cracked alley.

  Above, the giant skeleton stood tall once more, cupping Aratake in its hand like a king returning to his throne. Its empty sockets still somehow locked onto me, measuring something unseen.

  Fuzu grabbed a handful of my shirt and yanked, dragging me and a still-stuttering Utagawa back toward the main street. The normal bustle of the city returned like a crashing tide, almost surreal after what we'd just witnessed.

  “You’re really in deep shit, you know that?” Fuzu said with a grim chuckle, shaking her head.

  She turned toward Utagawa. “How many Crimson Envelopes has Kalth ever gotten?”

  “O-One." Utagawa stammered, still looking upward for any sign of the skeleton. "A-and he was n-not thrilled.”

  “Does that thing just… walk around wherever?” She added nervously.

  “It’s bound to our Overseer in the Spiritual Realm over Sōhaku no Akari.” Fuzu said, brushing dust off her sleeves like nothing had happened.

  She walked over and clapped Utagawa lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll never have to deal with that thing so long as I’m around. Now, let’s go get you some more drinks before you faint.”

  I tried, poorly, to repeat the Bastion’s name. “So… Soha-aaa-kaa…”

  Fuzu shot me a glare sharp enough to peel paint. “Ugh. Just say ‘Pale Light,’ moron. Before you scare a local and they call a brigade on your dumbass.”

  She sighed, muttering under her breath as she grabbed Utagawa by the arm and led the way back into the city’s neon pulse. I followed, heart still hammering, the weight of the crimson envelope burning a hole in my pocket.

  “The fuck are you doing here?” Zylas barked as I made my way through a nearby doorway, freshly relieved of duty from Duals. My path only had one more stop besides Utagawa and Fuzu—an eerily similar place to Baku’s shop, albeit saturated with spirits. I hadn’t consciously realized it, or maybe I had and forgot again, that Entropy had once more joined me on today’s venture. Upon recognizing where I was headed next, she decided to part ways, fading from view like fog burned off by sunrise—likely to avoid stoking more problems with Zylas.

  “Hey, shit-cicle, did your brain finally leak out of your ears?” Zylas barked again, this time abandoning whatever task she was up to. She stalked toward me, clawed feet scraping slightly on the floor. “Need me to throw you through another wall or—”

  I slowly lifted the edge of the red envelope. Her expression pinched—narrowed eyes latching onto it instantly. Whatever barb she had lined up died on her tongue. She grabbed my shoulder without another word, and dragged me along the fastest route to her room.

  The new door to her room was... unique. It was obviously charred from wherever she previously stole it from. The scorched wood gave off a faint, resinous scent—like pine pitch mixed with charcoal. She pressed a palm against the handle; a muted glow pulsed from her hand, and the latch clicked open. She yanked me in and slammed the door behind us, submerging the room in a darkness so dense it pressed faintly against my skin. Only her eyes—sharp, gold, faintly phosphorescent—cut through the black.

  “Lord wasn’t pleased the last time he received one of those.” Zylas grumbled from near the door. I could hear the scrape of her sleeve against the wall as she leaned. “What the hell are you doing with one of those?”

  “You know what this is?” I asked, shifting to Lilith’s Eyes to get any usable outline of the space. The room surprised me. Much cleaner than last time, with less piles of random items or clothing. Even her bed looked semi-made, if loosely. I turned toward her. Her stare sharpened, twin blades leveled at my throat.

  “The fact you don’t is horrendous.” She stepped forward, bare feet soft against the cool floor. “I only worked a day and even I was warned about the Red Envelopes. Let me guess—some frightening fuckhead delivered it?”

  “Pale Light’s Overseer hand-delivered it.” I said, pushing the lip open slightly. My hands felt clammy, the paper dry and warm in contrast. I didn’t know why this letter gripped me the way it did.

  “Exactly.” Zylas muttered. “An Overseer delivered a letter. Those jerkoffs couldn’t care two shits about anything besides Contracts.” Her voice dropped like a knife slipping beneath skin.

  I inhaled sharply and flipped the flap back. Sparks bloomed from the seal—red-orange, sharp-scented like hot iron—and then died as quickly as they came, leaving the air a bit acrid. I pulled out a piece of paper.

  Blank.

  Then it hit, like drowning in memory. A rush of cognition, too much and too fast, built the scene in my mind like scaffolding thrown up overnight. Eyes formed. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Then the voices sprang forth. A chorus of contradictions: deep and growling, eerie and ethereal, whispering, methodical, precise—and one that was almost human.

  They all spoke as one, jagged but unified:

  ‘Daegon, Agent of the CDS. Host to the Ancient.

  Your involvement is not requested, it is already presumed.

  The Whispering Sorter has marked your presence in the threads to come.

  The Ever-Changing Perspective finds your role… Conflicting, and seeks direct discourse.

  You may bring two. No more.

  This invitation is offered freely. Decline if you must. But know—absence will not shield you from what follows.

  The Chimera awaits.’

  -

  I snapped back into the room like surfacing too quickly from deep water. Sweat clung to my back and collar, and I could still feel phantom fingers in my thoughts. A narrow shaft of light from beneath the door caught my eyes as I settled back down.

  “Well?” Zylas murmured, posture unchanged, but tone harder now.

  “Apparently the head… or maybe, heads of the CDS want to meet me.” I muttered, rubbing my face with trembling fingers. The sweat wouldn’t wipe off—it was internal, like it had soaked into me. “They said I’m not required to go, but it’s already presumed?”

  “Then just don’t go. Fuck ‘em.” Zylas replied. She located the light dial and turned it slowly—amber outlines of furniture emerged from the gloom like skeletal remains. She walked over, lifted me under the arms like dead weight, and dropped me into a chair. “Sit. Good boy.”

  “Th-thanks.” I said, still reeling. The presence from the message felt invasive—like something had been in me, brushing the walls of my mind, then gone. The aftertaste of it lingered.

  “You may bring two guests, and that not going won’t shield you from what follows.” Lilith said through me, her voice playful, but with a tilt too knowing to be comforting.

  “Sounds like a threat.” Zylas muttered, now face-down on her bed. She groaned something incoherent and launched a pillow across the room. It hit the far wall with a dull foop.

  “Knowing you, you’re going. Sooo, I should be in attendance. In case anyone needs their skull cracked.”

  “That’s oddly reassuring.” I admitted, finally leaning back. Choice paralysis loomed—each possibility weighed like iron on a scale. I glanced at the letter again, then the envelope. Something else was still inside. Something small, yet dense. So, I reached in. My fingers brushed something smooth—cooler than the paper. A coin…?

  It was completely featureless, no engravings, no etchings. It didn’t even have an edge—just a smooth, tactile blankness. Yet something in it resisted being ignored. I instinctively flipped it, and caught it. Still, it remained blank.

  “Who would be my second?” I asked aloud, voice distant.

  “You’re allowed two guests.” Zylas said, clearer now. “Didn’t say you had to bring two.”

  “Ainai maybe? I know Valia wouldn’t turn it down…” I thought aloud.

  “Force Lord to go. That’d be hilarious.” Zylas said with a tired chuckle.

  “Do I ask Fuzu, in case they’re Fae or other contractual beings, for her knowledge? I wouldn’t want to waste Kalth’s favor on this…”

  Foomp!

  Another pillow slammed into the side of my head, causing me to almost tip the chair over entirely

  “It’s not that big of a deal.” Zylas said as I turned to glare at her. She sat up, grinning mildly. “If they wanted you dead or bound, they wouldn’t have sent an Overseer with a message. Nor let you bring guests.”

  “I guess that’s true.” I picked up the pillow and whipped it back. She caught it one-handed and flung it behind her like trash.

  “I could throw a curveball at them.” I said.

  “Valia isn’t a curveball.” Zylas replied, already rising with a stretch. Her joints popped audibly.

  “Nor is Ainai available.” She continued, pacing toward the door. “And Carna has to keep order. Someone’s gotta wear the Den Mother hat.”

  “No.” I said, a slow smile pulling at my face. “I was thinking of someone a bit more... intimate with the CDS.”

  Zylas stopped and looked back, studying me momentarily before she shrugged.

  “Let me know when you’re doing this.” She said, opening the door. “I’ve been doing jack since Carna has been taking the reins, even without Lord suggesting she should.”

  She turned halfway back, eyes gleaming. “Also, get the fuck out of my room.”

  massive compared to Lord. Showing up on a massive skeleton also gave off some major boss vibes. I think the guy could beat Jaskrim, or Zylas, in an arm-wrestling match and that's pretty frightening. Any thoughts on the second officially labeled Overseer we've seen?