Sorry for the delay! It's been over two months since I last updated. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait!
Oh, and just to clarify (because someone kind of aggressively asked me about this), I did not review my own story. I agree, that would be kind of weird. My sister is very kind, but technologically clueless and didn't know that I was logged on when she reviewed. That's the story, if you were wondering or really cared.
Anyway, thanks to those of you who are still reading this. I know I don't update very often at all, so I appreciate your patience and respect. IntoTheDeep27, SarcasticSarcasm, erazer, ifer95 and Larin, you are all awesome. Thanks for the reviews/faves/follows! Sorry, Larin. I do write short chapters, don't I? It's just what feels natural to me. I'll try to continue varying the chapter lengths. Thanks for the feedback! :)
Brace yourselves for this one.

Chapter 13

Dawn had already breathed faint wisps of colour into the bleak sky by the time Garrett emerged from the chapel. The sun now peaked over the horizon, casting its glimmering rays in between the sparse breaks in the clouds. The smoke had finally lifted, leaving the stale air a modicum more breathable.

Garrett took a deep breath before continuing onwards, ignoring the pools of blood caked on the ground. He came to an abrupt stop, glancing once more at the ground, the grass, and the blood - the sources of which were absent. Immediately, he broke into a crouched position and glided to cover behind a nearby bench. Cautiously peeking to the right, he caught a glimpse of a mangled body shuffling past the graveyard and around the corner.

Well, my search just became a lot easier, he thought to himself before pushing away from the bench and stalking the figure.

They had followed routes previously unknown to Garrett, which he kept a mental note of along the way, and passed several scenes which Garrett could only describe as sermons. Masses of crowds stood in silence around the Graven men preaching of the supposed evils of the world on makeshift daises.

One such route overlooked the town square, where Garrett had witnessed the lining up of shaking people - no doubt the aristocratic - stripped naked before the gallows that only the past day executed common criminals. The jeering mass of thrusting fists had cheered as a noose was cast over each head and the bar pulled, plunging the bodies below the level of the flooring. They were still struggling desperately for footing when Garrett had looked away.

After having traveled halfway across the City, the corpses finally reached their destination. A safe few paces away, Garrett looked over the derelict warehouse they entered. He recognized the building. Once a profitable hatchery, the building now stood abandoned after an accidental fire had burned it down beyond repair sometime in the year Garrett had missed.

He briefly scanned what was left of the building. Pieces of burnt wood jutted out from one side of the hatchery. His eyes traced a path from the first protrusion to the open framework of the roof. Garrett strode to the wall. As he approached, he heard a familiar grating voice booming out. Safely in the shadows, he flattened himself against the wall just as a figure emerged to draw the creaky wooden doors closed. A fine dust of charcoal drifted down.

Turning his attention back to the wall, Garrett tentatively placed a foot on one of the wooden ridges and tested its strength. Satisfied that it would hold, he shifted his weight and immediately leaped off of his foot to the next ridge.

By the time his foot touched the last plank, he knew that it would give way. Surely enough, the scorched wood cracked with the slightest pressure. He instinctively grasped onto the splintered end of the plank, stifling a cry of pain as the sharp edges pierced the skin of his palm. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath before gripping the edge harder to pull himself up. When his knee was safely supported, he wrenched his hand free and plucked out the larger remaining splinters.

Cradling his injured hand, Garrett made his way to a steadier-looking beam overlooking the interior of the hatchery. No more than twenty feet below, a group of thuggish men wielding weapons varying from daggers and swords to crossbows - all stolen from the City Watch - stood guard. The bloodied corpses from the graveyard stood facing away from him in front of the doors. In the middle of the warehouse, between the charred shallow barrels lining the floor, stood Gil. He held against him the Queen of Beggars, who stood composedly in his grasp.

One of the burlier men approached them. "No'ne 'ere, boss. You sure 'e'll come?"

"Oh, of that I am certain." His voice was noticeably raspy and strained. "Not even he would leave an old, defenseless woman to be killed."

If the Queen felt any fear, her voice did not betray it. "Your underestimation of him will only lead to your downfall. He is more clever than you give him credit for."

Gil laughed, which sounded to Garrett more like the croaking of a dying old man than a laugh. "You underestimate me, my Queen. If you could only feel the power coursing through my veins-"

"I would never wish for my greatest adversary to be the abomination that you are." Her retort seeped with disgust.

Gil quieted, then unsheathed his dagger and drew its blade in front of her face.

"Careful now, my Queen." His voice barely raised above a whisper.

In anticipation of a swift takedown, Garrett shifted on his heels. The movement made a sound that Garrett could only scarcely hear, but Gil's head immediately whipped upwards. Garrett felt his blood run cold at the sight before him. Staring up at him were two brightly glowing eyes which illuminated the unnatural pallor of his face.

"Ah, our intrepid hero. Here to save grandmother dearest, are you? Where's your noble-born mistress gone?" He whistled and turned his head towards the thugs.

Garrett leapt out of the way a fraction of a second too late. The bolt grazed his shoulder, knocking him off balance and loosening his grip from the beam. He braced his body for the drop and rolled to the side upon impact, saving himself from further injury. Adrenaline pumped through his blood, thankfully rendering the pain in Garrett's hand and shoulder virtually unnoticeable. He pushed himself to his feet and dashed to the nearest crate.

"Now, there's no need to hide. I'm a civilized man. Come out and talk."

Garrett glanced from behind the crate. He had counted seven men in the warehouse, excluding the four creatures guarding the door. Only two were within his range of sight. For all he knew, the others could have a clear shot of him. The odds were not in his favour.

"I won't bite. I only ask for your... assistance in performing a certain task. Help me, and I'll release your beloved Queen."

After running various scenarios in his head, all of which ended in disaster, Garrett was at a loss. He was a sitting duck in this position, unable to do anything but wait for an opportunity to arise. He couldn't risk creating a distraction or fleeing with the Queen of Beggars under Gil's blade.

"Or, you could let her die. I really wouldn't mind feasting on an extra corpse tonight."

Reluctantly, Garrett pushed himself upright and stepped out of the shadows.

"Let her go," he growled.

"There he is. I knew you would listen to reason." Gil turned his glowing eyes towards Garrett. "I assume you've seen the cleansing of our new City? Beautiful, is it not?

"What do you want from me?" Garrett took slow steps forward, keeping in mind that a moving target was harder to hit than a still one.

Gil raised the hand holding his dagger warningly. "That's close enough. And what I want from you, Master Thief, is your cooperation. Your submission, if you will."

"Tell your men to lower their weapons, and I'll consider it." Garrett tilted his head towards the archers to his right.

A moment passed, then Gil motioned to the men. "A fair request. Now, back to business."

He cleared his throat before continuing. "As I'm sure you're well aware, you have in you a particularly special artifact. In fact, I can see it now." His gaze drifted towards Garrett's right eye. "We've been after that for quite a while now. What you possess is invaluable."

"So you're asking me to hand over my eye and seal the deal, simple as that?"

Gil chuckled. "Ah, he has a sense of humour. And yes, simple as that."

"Leave me, Garrett. You know what you must do!" The Queen cried out.

Gil pressed the blade to her throat. "Hush, hush, my dear. Let the men talk." He turned his attention back to Garrett. "Now Garrett, I must add that this deal will not stand for very long. I need an answer now."

Garrett shifted on his feet, desperately trying to conjure up a solution. He knew that he wouldn't be able to draw an arrow halfway before the archers would shoot him or, worse, Gil would slice the Queen's throat. After what felt like only a second passed, Garrett heard Gil sigh.

"Well, I was really just trying to be nice. I suppose I'll have to get ahold of that shard the hard way. Your time's up." Gil grabbed a handful of the Queen's hair in an iron grip and pulled her head back.

"No!"

Garrett stood rooted to the ground, the weight crushing his chest preventing any movement, as he watched the blade dance across her neck, leaving a crimson spray in its wake. She reached out a shaky hand towards him, a silent cry of horror on her face, before dropping limply to the ground.

A smile oozing with sadistic pleasure and cold indifference more like a beast's than any man's twisted Gil's features. He twirled the dripping dagger between his fingers and wiped it on a dirty rag with practiced ease before sheathing it in a strap against his chest.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" He called out jovially to the guards. "Kill him. And bring me back an eye."

Unbeknownst to any of them, a shadowy figure stood watching from above, vigilantly observing the scene before her with keen eyes. Once she had mapped every exit and enemy, she wrapped her fingers around a cool steel handle. It was time to put her plan into action.