Annie led Connor over to the office, "Alright, so what I need you to do is sense the Veil in here exactly like how you did out there. You've got the first time over with, so it should be easier for you this time."

"Okay, that doesn't sound too bad." Connor was actually a bit relieved.

Annie stopped and turned around to face him, "No Connor. I need you to be prepared. The Veil remembers everything that happens around it. Death pushes it away temporarily, but there's going to be lingering echoes of the moments before Tulvir died. You have to be prepared for that."

Connor swallowed hard. Suddenly the office seemed a lot darker than it had been a few minutes ago. The Stranger headed inside and, after a moment of trepidation, he followed. Tulvir’s body was no longer there of course, but no one had had the chance to wash away the blood. Connor could still catch the faint scent of iron in the air, though the blood was long dried. Annie tapped the rim of her glasses and assessed the room, then she nodded and tapped them again.

”Here,” she offered her glasses to him, exposing her ruby eyes, “It’ll be easier for you to find what we’re looking for with these.”

The Paladin eyed the glasses dubiously, then reluctantly slipped them onto his face. He was surprised there was no orange film over his sight with them on, given their dark coating on the outside of the lenses.

”Okay, what now?” he asked.

“There’s a small rune on the right hand side upper rim. You just need to tap that and the glasses will do the rest. Don’t use them for too long though, it’ll give you a migraine.” Annie walked over to the desk, “I’ll have you start over here where the last grey threads were, then we’ll work our way around the room.”

Connor nodded and tapped the rim of the glasses. Nothing happened.

“A little higher.” Annie smirked.

He tapped the rim again. Nothing.

”Too high. Here,” she gingerly took his hand and put her finger above his own, guiding his hand to the tiny carved rune. 

The room exploded with color. Neon lights crisscrossed all around him, enveloping the walls, the furniture, even himself! It was so much to take in at once that Connor was overwhelmed. He needed something to focus on, if he tried to look at it all he was afraid he would blind himself. He searched around for something, anything to focus on and his eyes locked onto Andromeda.

Violet red threads of light slowly spooled around her, enveloping her body like a second skin. And the way she glowed. He had never seen anything like it. Her body radiated pure light, it outlined her form like the edges of an eclipse and writhed around her like a burning flame. 

“Your light, it’s… Beautiful…” he whispered.

“Bring the needle over here and draw in some threads again. You’re looking for the grey ones hidden under the dark blue echoes.” Annie’s voice was very carefully neutral.

“Right!” Connor drew the needle and made his way to the desk. It was covered in those navy blue threads. Andromeda had said that the Veil remembers everything it touches. The only person who might work at this desk so much would have been Tulvir. These must have been his. 

He couldn't allow himself to dwell on the thoughts that arose right then, it would be far too much for him. Instead he brushed the thoughts and the threads aside with a wave of the needle, unearthing the grey thread from beneath. 

He held the needle over the top of the thread and concentrated. It was easier now that he knew the rhythm of it, breathing almost in time to his steady heartbeat. The threads drifted closer and closer to the needle every breath, like they were small cautious snakes slithering closer to inspect the needle. They threaded through the needle's eye one by one, taking on bits of teal light as they did. When the grey thread slithered through, he glanced at Annie for what to do next.

Annie could see the threads he was holding with her naked eye. Pieces of the Veil become tangible when a mage takes hold of them. It's what binds the magic to reality. 

"Good job," she said, "Now you're going to feel it out just like before. There will be much more negative energy here so prepare yourself. Then start when you're ready."

Connor tried to focus on his breathing, partly to maintain the threads and partly to keep his growing anxiety at bay. It seemed like it was working. The needle was neither throwing off sparks nor trying to leap from his hand. That was probably a good sign.

He pictured the water again, that sensation of being gently adrift in the tides. He could feel the echoes around him, ephemeral clouds of memory adrift in the ocean alongside him. He opened his eyes and saw the threads spread before him like a tapestry, all colors of light intertwined in a beautiful but incomprehensible design.

The grey thread was easy to find, it stood out like a sword abandoned in a blooming meadow. He extended his mind towards it cautiously, trying to slowly probe it before fully taking it in.

The instant he brushed against the echo it consumed him, drowning his mind in a torrent of blood and agony. Hundreds of lives clung to this thread, snuffed out by the choking grey haze. It wanted to make them suffer. It wanted to make him suffer. It would drag him down to the depths of darkness for the satisfaction alone; then it would find another soul and choke it out just the same as it had done for years. It would consume and destroy everything in its path and then, when all was left but grey, it would consume itself. The serpent gorged on innocence finally devouring its own tail.

"Connor!"

Something ripped Connor from the thread's grasp and dragged him back into reality. He felt the dagger get torn from his hand and the glasses snatched off his face. Then he was suddenly on the bed looking at the ceiling.

"Connor!" Annie was shouting. Why was she shouting? And why did his chest hurt?

There was a heavy impact on his chest that drove the air from his lungs. Or it would have, if there'd been any left in them. It was as if he'd been drowning, the air slowly forced from his lungs with every choking gasp. He thrashed around and sucked in air desperately. It felt like he needed to vomit, but nothing would come out.

"Connor!" Annie grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, "Connor! Snap out of it!" Annie slapped him.

That did it.

Connor sat bolt upright and wheezed into a ragged cough that would have toppled him off the bed if Annie hadn't caught him.

"What— What happened?" he wheezed.

"You went in too deep," Annie got up from on top of him to pace around the room, "I'm sorry, that was way too much for you. I should have known better!"

Connor coughed, "Annie, I'm okay! It's alright!"

"No! I was stupid, this was way too big of a jump to throw a novice into and I'm sorry! I just..." she balled up her fists at her sides and then flexed her fingers back and forth, "This is so damn frustrating!" She kicked a chair and sent it sailing across the room to slam into the wall. She stood there staring into nothing, hunched and breathing heavily.

Connor was stunned, both from his close encounter and the Stranger's sudden rage. He was trying to collect his thoughts when he caught sight of Annie's hands, a fierce and shining violet red hue dripped from her fingertips like blood. The lights above them flickered and Connor was hit with a wave of vertigo that nearly sent him spinning.

He needed to stop whatever was about to happen.

Connor leapt to Annie's side and took her hand as carefully as he could, slowly softly it in his own, "Annie," he pleaded, "Please calm down. Everything is alright, I'm okay! We can try again!"

Annie tried to wrench her hand from his grip. The magic of his Icon sprung into action and fastened his hands tight, but it took more of its strength than he'd have expected to keep hold of her. He had to fight to push the magic back down. The Icon was furiously flooding his body with magic and power as if his life depended on it. It put his lungs in agony, but he forced himself to breath in a steady rhythm, trying to calm the spirit. Soon its magic faded enough for Annie to break his hold and step away from him.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me." her voice was shaking. 

"Alright Annie, alright." He wheezed and raised his hands in a placating gesture, "You're awful worked up over something, and that's okay. It seems like it's something you should be mad about! But I don't need your glasses to see the Veil's reacting pretty strongly to you!" Connor gestured to her hands, "Look."

Annie lifter her hand in front of her and took in the light bleeding from her skin. Connor watched her face fall slowly. Her anger faded away to something hollow, empty. She shook her hands out and extinguished the light coming from them, staring at her hands for a long moment after it was gone.

"Annie?" Connor said hesitantly. She turned to face his direction, but he couldn't tell if she was looking at him or something past him. "Annie?" he said again, "I'm not going to touch you, but I want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not." She knelt down to pick up her discarded needle and returned it to Connor. "Let's do it again."

"Annie–"

Annie met his eyes firmly, "Look, I'd really rather not talk about what just happened. I'm good now, it won't happen again. Let's just focus on our jobs, yeah?"

Connor hesitated, then said, "Alright. But only if you agree to talk to me later. It doesn't have to be about this," he gestured around the room vaguely, "But you need to talk to someone. You seem like you've got a lot on your shoulders, I'd like to help lighten the load."

Annie glowered at him, "Fine" she grunted and then gestured to the needle, "Come on, let's get this over with."

"Shouldn't I put on the glasses again?" he asked.

"No. The feedback from looking at the Veil with both your eyes and your mind was too much for you," she slipped the glasses back onto her face to conceal her expression and tapped the rune on their rim, "I'll tell you what to do. Ready?"

In truth Connor was not ready. He was in desperate need of a nap, a shower, and probably a therapist. But instead doing the reasonable thing and calling it a day, he gave Annie a thumbs up and readied his borrowed needle once more. 

“Good. Come stand over here.” Annie pointed to the center of the room. The blood had pooled the thickest there. It had saturated the carpet before it dried and now it crunched quietly beneath his boots. It felt like the vibrations of the sound were so loud against his boots that they resounded up his legs and turned his stomach. A good man’s life laid beneath his feet, Connor might as well be standing on his grave. 

"When a living being dies it pushes away Veil threads temporarily," Annie began to walk in a circle around him, "You're currently standing in that space.” The words sent a chill through Connor’s spine.

Annie stopped at some invisible point and snapped her fingers towards Connor, “Point the needle over here, there’s some loose threads that were severed by the killing. When you draw them in you’ll get an echo from both the victim and the killer.”

His hands shook as he leveled the needle towards the Stranger, “You’re sure this’ll work?” he asked.

“Yes, and I’d do it myself if I fucking could! Now are you going to do it or not?” Annie snapped.

Connor hurriedly steadied his breathing, drawing in threads of the Veil as he did. It was slow at first, a few stray threads drifting through the needle’s eye at a time, then it was as if he’d caught something. He drew it in carefully, wary of the dark miasma the Stranger had warned him was waiting at the other end. 

He couldn’t help picturing a dark cloud in the water, something frozen and malicious in front of him and yet untouchable. Just touching a single grey thread had plunged him into a cold abyss of hateful power, what would threads tinged with death have in store for him? There was only one was to find out.

He plunged into the emerging miasma, severed threads slithering towards his needle and unfolding their echoes of memory like the turning pages of a book.

There was a weariness there, tinged with a lurking anxiety. He could feel the weight of a warm blanket over him, luring his body into a deep sleep despite the restless thoughts that rattle around his mind. Then came awakening, surprise, a knock at the door. Leaving the comfort of rest for a lurking unknown. There was a sense of cold iron in his hand. A knife? A gun? The steel fed his anxiety, what lurked beyond? Had his discovery been found out? Was the puppeteer waiting beyond the threshold?

Unveiling. Familiarity. Relief. Tulvir knew the person on the other side of the door, welcomed them inside. Turned his back to them.

 Then came shock, betrayal, then nothing. The echo stopped suddenly like the book had been ripped from his hands so someone could shred the pages. Connor pressed further.

Another thread. Calculating but warm,, orderly, someone who knew their purpose and fulfilled it. But it was tinged with something alien. A cold spot in the warmth that was slowly eating away at everything around it. The grey thread. 

Connor was prepared for the intensity this time, he let it wash over him, letting it pull him to the depths of the suffering it had inflicted. Its hunger was palpable, a viciousness barely restrained by a sense of purpose. A violent urge focused into a killing edge.

Connor latched onto that purpose and focus, letting it supplant his own desires to experience them in their fullest. It shackled the bloodlust that suffused its entire being and gave it purpose. It wanted to take something, something important, it was critical to the grey mage that he claim it. But there were too many safeguards in place, an unconquerable foe that circled the prize like a hound. The foe would need to be lured away. The mage could slowly cut at its leash until it was no longer bound to its post. Then the mage could seize his prize.

Just as Connor was about to pull away, something else drew his attention. It was hot, like a sweltering summer day. Dramatically different from the cold bloodlust that surrounded him. He drifted towards it, curious.

It was a sort of simmering frustration, like water just before it started to boil. There was pain there too, betrayal and loss that had slowly turned into anger and spite. It was nothing like the grey threads he’d touched. 

He reached into it and the echoes spread out before him, letting him uncover what was beneath the frustration. There was a sense of wonder and creativity there that had been smothered and locked away, bound in those chains of anger and pain. The joy they brought had been stolen away, leaving an empty hole where that sense of fulfillment had been that was slowly being filled with bitter acceptance. She’d never be the same.

Connor surfaced, drawing his mind from the echoes back to material reality as if he were leaving a trance. As he returned to himself he found Annie watching him carefully.

“What did you find?” she asked. 

“I think I know what the mage wants,” Connor said breathlessly, “There’s only one thing in the town important enough for him to focus so much on. He plans to take the wind turbine somehow.”

”The wind turbine? Why?” Annie sounded incredulous.

“It’s what makes Millpoint important to the Union, that’s the reason they needed a Paladin here anyway.”

Annie frowned, “Why does the Union care about the wind turbine?”

Connor grinned, “It actually generates a lot of power, more than Millpoint could ever actually use! The Union needs every power source it can get to keep all of its bases and settlements running. The wind turbine here in Millpoint is a critical piece of the union’s power grid.”

“So Not-Jed plans on taking the turbine from the Union, how? Can’t you guys just send some soldiers to stomp anybody who tries to take this place?”

“That’s only if it’s worth it for them. If the windmill stops working, the Union might not bother using a bunch of resources to fix it. Then someone else can swoop in and take the town without a fight!”

“Like the Union would sell it or something?” Annie asked, incredulous. 

“If someone were to make them a good enough offer, maybe.” Connor was confident.

Annie sighed, “I guess it’s better than nothing. Let’s go take another look at the turbine, maybe Not-Jed has been trying to sabotage it or something.”

”Lorena could probably help!” Connor couldn’t help but be excited.

Annie grunted, “Sure. Come on.” She walked out the door.

Connor hesitated briefly. His mind drifted back to the other threads, the ones that simmered with anger and loss. They reminded him a lot of a certain Stranger he knew…

[Thank you to DeloresRoseveil for helping to brainstorm the concept for chapter 24 & 25]