The silence Valerius left behind was worse than the pressure. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving a vacuum.
'A dog.'
The words hung in the airless room long after the Archon's departure.
'What did it mean? Was it a threat? An offer? A test?'
His mind raced, but found no answers.
The hurried scuffing of leather on stone announced his lawyer's return.
Carson practically fell back into the cell, his face the color of chalk. He looked around the empty room, then at Creed, his eyes wide and terrified behind his smudged glasses. The crumpled papers were still pressed to his chest like a holy weapon.
"Thank Verdia."
He sat up and leaned against the doorframe for a moment.
"He was like…"
Just then his expression changed to one of curiosity. He pushed himself upright and rushed over to Creed's chair.
"What did he say? Creed, what did he want? Did he threaten you? Did he offer a deal? Anything we can use? It's highly unlikely for the victim to—"
Creed cut him off, his eyes fixed on the now open cell door.
"He said nothing."
Sharing the Archon's words felt like a sin. They were dangerous words, meant only for him.
"Nothing? Creed, Archons don't just visit their would-be assassins for a nice chat! This is my life on the line here too. My whole future! If he said something you have to tell me!"
Creed finally turned his head. The look in his eyes stopping Carson's pleading.
"Then maybe you should start worrying more about your own neck. The conversation's over."
Carson's mouth remained open for a second before slowly closing. Defeat settled over his freckled face. He turned and began examining his papers again, a failed attempt to hide his emotions from the client he was supposed to be saving.
They could both feel their respective dooms approaching. One worse than the other but they were both equally dreaded.
The heavy thud of guard boots echoed down the corridor. Their faces appearing in the doorway, and a curt nod towards Carson told them it was time.
…
The roar of the crowd returned they re-entered the colosseum. They might as well have been here for a deathmatch. Unfortunately for Creed, it was his.
He slid back into his seat at the defendant's table. Carson sank down beside him, fumbling with his sweat-covered papers. Across from them, Marx offered a smile. Not one you give a friend but one you give a competitor after making them taste defeat.
The judge made his way to his podium. He slammed his gavel, the sound cracking through the air and silencing the crowd.
"Court is resumed, Prosecutor Marx, proceed."
Marx rose and walked towards the center of the marble floor.
"Thank you, your honor. The defense is painting a picture of a misguided boy. I wish to show you all the true face of the accused. The prosecution would like to call Elian Vost to the stand."
'Elian.'
Creed could see where this was going.
Elian appeared from a small, dark doorway. He looked pathetic in the grand arena, his grey uniform hanging loose on his thin frame. He kept his head down, his nose twitching. He was the kid who'd tripped over his own feet to abandon their room.
After swearing his oath, Elian sat and Marx approached.
"Mr. Vost, you were Creed's roommate for over a year. Tell the court, what was he like?"
Elian began, his voice barely audible.
"He was… angry. Always quiet, but you could feel something off about him. He would always talk about how corrupt the Spire was. How he would change things, how he would show them."
The lies were slicker than Elian's greasy skin. Sure, Creed had been bitter, but he'd kept it locked down, he never brought it up.
"Did he have a violent temper?"
"He… he had a temper. He would get this look in his eye. It scared me."
Marx didn't throw in another question. He turned, a full 360 degrees, staring into the crowd. No words were needed.
'They were portraying me as a danger to the Spire.'
He turned back to Elian and asked the question Creed had seen coming a mile away.
"And what about the incident concerning Emily Lancer?"
Elian swallowed hard. "After the incident, I… I heard him laughing about it one night. Said she was a naive fool who got what was coming to her. He scared me after that… I requested a transfer the next day. I was afraid to sleep in the same room as him."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. Creed felt Carson shift beside him, his lawyer's gaze now on him. He didn't need to look to know what type of look it was, it was the same one Iris had given him when she first heard it too. A look of horrified doubt.
The lie was perfect. Told by the perfect, weak dog, licking the boots of power to survive.
'Was this what Valerius meant?'
"No further questions," Marx said, turning to give the crowd a look that said, 'See? This is the monster I told you about.'
The judge waved his hand dismissively. "Defense? Any cross-examination?"
Carson looked at Creed, his face filled with doubt. He was starting to believe them.
"No, Your Honor."
Elian, now looking triumphant, hurried down from the stand and out the door he came from.
Carson took a deep, shaky breath and rose to his feet.
"Your honor, we would like to contend that the weapon itself was one of evil nature and compelled my client to act. I request that the weapon be brought for examination."
The judge grunted, looking intrigued for the first time. He gave a nod to a guard. Shortly after, the guard emerged carrying a velvet cushion. He walked to the center of the arena and placed it gently on the evidence table.
Resting in the middle of the cushion was a black sphere.
All eyes were on it. The crowd leaned forward, mesmerized. The judge squinted at it. Marx looked at it with amusement.
But Creed wasn't looking at them, he was staring at the object on the cushion.
His blood ran cold. The air left his lungs.
It wasn't The Eye.