He's a Mess of a Man

Book Two ~ Chapter One

Leviathan rushed to the wall, pressing his palms against the ornate wallpaper, "Lucio? Lucio?!" No answer. It was just him, Asra, Erik, and Morga, all staring at the patch of wall where Lucio disappeared. "Ugh... Why does this keep happening..?" Leviathan asked tiredly.

"Lucio's... unique. Neither dead nor alive." said Asra, "Some magic must affect him differently. But it's just a guess, and we don't exactly have time to stand here and speculate."

"He's right." Leviathan thought as he relaxed his hands, letting the residual magic fade. "Last time I lost him, I was unable to find him with magic."

"True. Still, let's leave this room before we try anything. I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling about this place." Asra started back up the stares, brow furrowed.

Despite the gloom and dereliction, Leviathan did feel a bit better when he stepped foot out of the secret dining room. Morga and Erik headed straight for the door, "I'll tell Satrinava about that hidden room. You two can handle the rest." Morga said before Erik and her left in a hurry, muttering under their breaths about troublesome ghost familia.

Leviathan closed his eyes and felt for his connection to Lucio. By now, finding the magic that linked them together was as easy as breathing. It was a strong, bright tether. He could almost imagine holding it in his hands. He tried to empty his mind. A fuzzy image slowly surfaced as he followed the tether. An overgrown building, stark and crumbling against the sky. Ashen sand shifted under Leviathan's feet and he smelled salt and rot in the air. "I think I saw where he was."

"Really? That was quick."

"A ruin on an island.. with beaches covered in ash." As Leviathan explained what was in his vision, Asra's face fell, and his smile evaporated like morning dew.

"I see... Well, at least the Lazaret isn't too far away."

"The Lazaret?" With a shiver, Leviathan realized he knew that name. It was the island off the coast where the city quarantined victims of the red plague. Even the fishing boats avoided it, everyone believed it to be haunted. "The Lazaret's been abandoned for years. Why would Lucio be there?"

"I don't know... But if that's where you sensed him, that's where he'll be."

"Sounds straightforward enough to me." Leviathan thought as seeds of a plan started to form. "Alright... How do I get to the Lazaret?"

"How do- wait." Asra's eyes widened, "Surely you don't mean to go alone?"

"I certainly don't want to go alone, but that's not important right now. We still need to investigate The Devil's plans, and that secret room is our best lead. Who knows how long it'll take me to find Lucio. Let's divide and conquer." To Leviathan's surprise, Asra slowly nodded along.

"I... of course. You're right. You should head to the docks. You can take a boat to the Lazaret from there." His faint, wavering smile didn't quite reach his downcast eyes.

"Asra, what's wrong?"

"Lucio just got dragged off to a haunted island and you're asking me what's wrong? Go on, Levi. Just bring him back before he gets into even more trouble." And with that, Asra gently shooed Leviathan out of the room before he could press him any further.

No one stopped Leviathan as he hurried through the palace and out the front gates. Several ornate carriages stood waiting along the street. Leviathan waved down a driver and hopped inside, "To the docks, please!" It was a quiet afternoon by the dockside with plenty of empty gondolas waiting for customers. Leviathan looked for the most placid-faced gondolier he could find and waved them down.

"Where to?"

"The Lazaret, please."

The gondolier's eyes narrowed. They held out a calloused hand, rubbing their fingers together. Leviathan sighed, handing them a few extra coins for their trouble. "Hmph. Slow day. S'pose this'll do." they rowed Leviathan over in silence, constantly glancing back at the city. As the island drew closer, a sharp sense of foreboding settled over Leviathan. The gondola stopped just short of the beach. Leviathan hopped out, landing in the freezing surf. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as soon as his feet touched the sand. A harsh, wailing wind blasted from the empty windows of the Lazaret, "What the hell?!" yelped the gondolier. They dropped their oar, hastily snatched it up out of the water, and pushed off at top speed.