Chương 231: Act 3, Chapter 80: Piotr’s nature

Day in the story: 29th January (Thursday), after midnight Elle Erikson"How can it be so bright during the night?" Piotr shielded his eyes from the glow of the moons and stars.

"No offense, Tien, but your city is not that fuckin' great." He continued, taking in the sights that had everyone else rooted in place.

"No offense taken," Bastien replied, while the vampire remained the sole exception to the view's paralyzing splendor. He moved forward unbothered, stepped onto the pavement, and with nothing but the weight of his presence redirected the flow of Shadowed people around us. It made me wonder.

"Do Shadows know about mages? How do they explain us?" I asked.

"Who cares what they think?" Piotr said, brushing his shoulders.

"The lady obviously does," the vampire answered.

"Come after me, if you are done ogling the place." Piotr sighed, then glanced at me with a sour expression.

"Didn't mean to offend you or anything. We cool?" He took a few steps after the vampire, who was already leading our group away. We moved from the Ideworld gate, hidden behind massive white wooden doors, toward the enclosed trolley station across the street. The flow of cars halted the moment the man guiding us stepped onto the asphalt.

"Yes. I just believe that Shadows are more than simple reflections. They have their own culture, and humans dismiss it because it's convenient. Just look at the shadows of places here—they reflect how we see them and think about them, but also how they perceive themselves. Why would people's Shadows be any different?"

"You are one of the few with that sentiment I've met in my undeath," the vampire said, drawing everyone's attention. Kito, Lia, and Patricia had hardly looked away from him anyway.

"They do know about mages, but most treat them like just another magical calamity, the only difference being that it takes a humanoid form. They have no idea you are from another plane of existence."

"Makes sense," I replied.

"A vampire would know. You are half a shadow yourself," Kito added. We approached a small trolley train suspended from a railing above, the track stretching toward the distant Eiffel Tower. The station was fenced off, and our guide retrieved a key to unlock the gate.

"Aren't we all?" the vampire said.

"You either have a shadow here, one bound within your Domain's crystal, or one housed within a shared body, like in my case, but as long as you live, they are there." His explanation silenced everyone. He opened the gate, then stepped aside and bowed, gesturing for us to enter the wagon.

"I hate heights," Piotr mumbled, but he took a seat near the window anyway. Inside, the cart was seemingly more spacious than it appeared from the outside, but not by much. There were five rows of seats, split down the middle to allow passage. Each row had four seats on either side, and at the front, near the entrance, was a simple control panel with a few levers—that's where the vampire stopped. I took a seat behind Piotr, also by the window.

Surprisingly, Patricia sat right next to me, while Kito chose a solitary place somewhere in the back, and Bastien sat beside Liana.

"I don't mind," I whispered to Milo up front, when the vamp closed the door, pulled the lever, and the whole machine moved with a quiet hiss and the low hum of cogs turning somewhere below or above us. We moved upward smoothly. There were no jerks, no sudden shifts, and soon we were sailing through the air, suspended from the railing beneath us, watching the city drift by below. It looked real because of the ever-present crowds, even if some of them looked or behaved in ways that felt… off.

And yet it was surreal too, shaped by the strangeness of the environment. The light that had made such a strong first impression was still there, but now that I'd grown used to it, I began to notice smaller details adding to the color of the place. Along the riverbank, I spotted small greyish creatures that at first glance looked like children, but on closer inspection resembled hunched old figures wrapped in rags and filthy clothes.

Their skin was mostly black, yet gleamed here and there with metallic grey reflections as they moved in small groups, rummaging through garbage bins. Farther down the street, a shootout was underway. Police had taken a stand against what looked like an oversized wolf with flaming fur. Sirens flooded the area with cold blues and vivid reds, while the creature's fiery oranges—leaping from one car hood to another and back again—cast a striking contrast over the chaos.

The beast lunged for an officer, jaws snapping toward his torso, but met its end mid-motion. It crashed onto a car as the relentless storm of bullets finally broke through its defenses. The flames guttered out along with whatever soul had fueled them. Shadows gathered at a distance—onlookers keeping to the edges, hidden behind trees and abandoned cars, filming it all on their phones. I found myself wondering what kind of spectacles filled their version of the internet.

"Gargoyles," Lia noted.

"Should we be worried?" Only then did I notice them too—stony bodies gliding through the air, heading toward a Notre Dame that was far larger in this world. Its twin towers rose high, dwarfing even the Eiffel Tower we were approaching. They were cloaked in what looked like living fire, something that tried and failed to consume them from within.

"No, they never attack these wagons," the vampire replied.

"The fire is new," he added, noticing our attention fixed on the cathedral.

"It appeared soon after what happened to the cathedral on Earth, but here it's just a visual. Just another form of light added to the whole."

"Are we there yet?" Piotr asked, both hands pressed firmly over his eyes.

"No," I said, still watching the towering structure. Something was happening there—a fight, perhaps. Shadowlight flickered along one of the parapets as gargoyles dove and pulled back, taking turns striking at something unseen.

"Can you guys see this?" I asked, pointing toward it. Everyone shifted to my side of the wagon to look outside. Even the vampire abandoned his station and stepped closer.

"Probably one of the mages trying their luck."

"Notre Dame is full of soul marks," Patricia said.

"I can feel them even from here. The Eiffel Tower too, for that matter."

"It will be a good place to get some before we hit the catacombs. We need all the power we can get if we want to go far." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"If you want to go far… in life, you should reconsider going down there," the vampire intruded into our conversation.

"Or into any Nexus."

"Have you even been in one?" I asked, standing up and walking closer to the man.

"Yes," he replied, watching me as I sat in front of him. His eyes seemed distant.

"Once, in a different part of the world, when I was sired to a different master. We made our expedition—started with fifty-eight—and only four made it out of that place."

"Vampires, all of you?" Kito asked, leaning a bit closer.

"No. Mages were there too. The first few months were easy. We celebrated each night, until one day we encountered a calamity too strong for us to overcome. Me and three others escaped. We wandered, stumbled, but eventually found our way back out."

"What was that disaster?"

"An archmage who had lost his mind. He commanded clouds and smoke, wielded artifacts to amplify his power, and had a strange scorpion-like beast by his side. But in the end, he was just one man and even my master's command over light would not have been enough to stop him from turning a force like ours into dust… and a story to tell on a ride like this." There was an immense sadness in his eyes as he spoke.

"The power some people wield… it's unimaginable. Not every Authority is made equal, and no amount of hard work will make it so. The same goes for places and monsters. So reconsider whether what you seek is worth risking your life."

"Whatever," Piotr said, his face still hidden in his hands.

"Everyone's got a sob story. Doesn't mean we'll end up like you, so keep it to yourself."

"Don't be mean, Peter," Patricia said.

"Milo…" Kito just whispered.

"I don't need sympathy, nor do I seek understanding. I am sharing my experience so you would not have to live it. It is true, however, that where I failed, you might succeed, and therefore I will leave you with words of good luck. May we meet again and I will gladly listen to the tale of your success." Our guide spoke calmly. There was no anger in his voice, not even a hint of anything foul.

"I wasn't trying to be mean," Milo replied.

"I just fucking hate when people judge others by their own shortcomings or offer free advice." He made air quotes, his eyes still closed.

"I find them worth exactly as much." He formed a zero with his finger and a thumb.

"It angers me beyond reason."

"We know, Piotr," Kito said from the back.

"Hold your reins, man."

"No. Let me fuckin' crash for once. Everyone has expectations—even strangers." He continued, finally opening his eyes. Without glancing outside even once, he stood up and faced the vampire. His eyes filled with white and red shadowlight that seeped outward.

"My family—we are Czarni, the black knights of Poland." The vampire winced and tensed for the first time since we met as he heard that name.

"You've heard of us. I can tell by how you shake in those pants of yours." Milo pointed at him, gripping one of the backrests for balance.

"There is nothing expected of me but the best, and anything less is a disappointment. My grandfather was the one who planted his blade in Gistraszh. My father conquered the Spirit of Uprising. I will be the one that guts your pierdolone katakumby—not because you think I won't, or because my family expects it, but because I decided to. You get it?" Kito was already behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Milo, please. This man just wanted to warn us," he said in a calm, measured tone.

"I know. Kurwa. It's not his fucking business if we die or not."

"It is, good lord," the vampire replied.

"For as long as you are here under my protection—until you enter the gates of hatred inside the tower—it is my responsibility to keep you alive. It is what Bohema expects of me."

"You know damn well what I meant," Piotr hissed.

"Get us off this hanging death trap and get the fuck out." He added, "Keep that advice to yourself."

"I did not mean to offend."

"Whatever," Milo muttered, pushing Kito's hand away before dropping back into his seat. Anger streamed off him in visible streaks of white and red shadowlight. This clearly wasn't the first time he'd exploded like this, judging by how quickly Kito had tried to step in, and it most likely would not be the last. I looked outside to see that we were almost at the tower.

"What a ride," Patricia whispered to me.

"Is he often like this?" I asked her, knowing full well he could hear us.

"Sometimes. Peter's family—despite his name being Milowski—is that of the Czarni, like he said, and they've had a lot of very powerful archmages over the years. The Domain of Swordsmanship is one of those the vampire mentioned—the unfair ones. So when Peter abandoned it and chose baseball, his family—let's just say they were not too happy about it."

"Pat," Milo said from the seat in front of us, "if you're going to gossip, at least do it right. All of them but my father rejected me. That's why I have my mother's name."

"She supported you too?" I asked.

"Hell no. She's a bitch, but I couldn't continue using my own name, so they gave me hers."

"We are here," the vampire said as the trolley came to a stop near the steel platform. Two people were already waiting for us, both clad in some form of protective garments—padded armor threaded with sewn-in gems.

"It was a… pleasure," he added, opening the door. We took turns stepping out onto the metallic platform of the Eiffel Tower. The disk above, with its tethered zeppelins, loomed overhead, casting deep shadows while reflecting the city's glow back onto us. Piotr had his bat in hand again, striking the floor once with each step. Kito remained at the back, while the rest of us formed a loose middle. Bastien was the one who stepped forward to meet the Bohemian representatives.

"I hope you had a pleasant journey," one of them said.

"We did," Laurent replied.

"But we'd like to enter the splinter as soon as possible. How do we proceed?"

"We will get there shortly. It's just at the end of this level, by the stairs." The man pointed at the steel gate at the other end of the tower. There was an undercurrent of history beneath the steel lattice all around us as we moved through the shifting shadows cast by the disk above. They stretched like webs spun by the moon itself, reflecting fragments of the city's glow. I found myself wondering what that meant for us—people who could harness the soul to produce light.

It was called shadowlight not because it was part shadow, but because the name marked its otherworldly origin. In truth, it was more light than anything else and because of that, it raised questions. Light cast shadows. Illumination created darkness as much as it dispelled it. Were we the same? Sources of brightness that inevitably left darkness in our wake?

"You seem awfully closed inside that thinking meat of yours," Kito said, moving alongside me. He was watching the city below.

"Something bothering you? Milo?"

"No. Everyone carries some baggage. He feels like he needs to prove himself. I was just thinking about this light and shadow dichotomy—how one creates the other."

"You're wondering whether our magic is inherently bad?"

"Oh no. Nothing like that. I just appreciate the balance. I've had enough of good-and-evil talks for a lifetime."

"Balance?" He scratched his chin, rising it slightly.

"I like it."

"Yes. Our light can illuminate and cast shade at the same time—literally and metaphorically. There's no better metaphor for the fact that we can be whoever we choose to be."

"My father used to say something similar," Kito admitted.

"But I wrestle with those thoughts often, especially now, since you've shown me a clearer path to controlling shadowlight. So much of who I am comes from my upbringing that I struggle to see how my choices can truly overcome that."

"You'll get there." Milo smacked him lightly on the back.

"Super sorry about my outburst, but that stick-in-the-ass vamp was getting on my nerves." I noticed that the men escorting us, took a note of this remark.

"You need to get that under control or it'll be your end one day, man. Rage is a loud killer."

"Blah, blah, blah," Milo mocked, waving his hands.

"You're both made for each other—you and Elle. Definitely more than Bastien and her. You're both deep thinkers. So fuckin' deep your head is at a risk of never leaving your ass."

"And you aren't?" I asked, disregarding the latter part of his remark.

"Me? Oh no. I'm a simple man. I think about the nature of myself or my magic only when I hit a roadblock."

"That's true," Patricia chimed in.

"His only goal in life is to be the very best."

"And to catch them all?" Bastien asked, earning a hearty laugh from Piotr.

"No. I'm more of a hitter—you know that. But it was a good one."

"You're all kids in adult bodies," Lia said.

"Men mature up to thirteen. After that, they just grow," Patricia added.

"It's good that you all have a sense of humor," one of the Bohemian guides finally said.

"You'll need it in this splinter."

"Yeah?" Piotr asked.

"I never leave it at home anyway. What's so special about it?"

"It's pretty bleak and depressing."

"That's what she said!" Milo replied, earning a laugh from the guard.