The Sixth | Ekko

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ekko placed the metal Firelight logo back in the drawer and then closed it, the object heavier now than when he had first picked it up.

He gave Momo one last glance before returning to his efforts. He needed to keep searching for her notes. Though, each movement he made shot protesting pains through his leg where Pitch had kicked him. The pain was almost as bad as the time he hurt it during his fight with Jinx on the bridge. The fight that nearly killed them both.

An explosion.

Her explosion. Her bomb. Her detonation.

He rid his mind of any thoughts of blue before frantically searching through the books on her shelves once more, wondering if he might've missed something the last time he looked.

He hadn't.

He looked under her bed.

Nothing but her poro slippers.

He looked through the papers on her desk again.

Still nothing.

He didn't understand. Did she just not keep notes on her shimmer experimentation?

Then he realized.

After the poison variant she created got leaked, she might've destroyed her notes to avoid further incident in the future.

He felt himself panic at the thought. If that were the case, then there would be no way for him to know what to do with the shimmer to remove the harmful properties from it. He would either have to give her the shimmer as is, or not at all.

A tremendous choice with treacherous consequences.

He wrung his fingers through his dreadlocks, stopping when he felt the smooth glide of Momo's ribbon in one of them.

No.

She wouldn't have demolished her work. Evidence of what he imagined had been hours of toil and mulling over details. Testing. Failing. Trying again. Logging everything so she could refer to her writings in the future and learn from her mistakes. She wouldn't just get rid of her notes. That would be like making waste of time itself. She would've hidden them somewhere.

He just had to find out where.

He tried searching for loose stones in her walls, nails gritting against rock since his gloves were too bloody to wear.

There weren't any.

He did the same to her floors, even under the array of incongruous rugs.

Nothing.

Then his eyes traveled over to her dresser. He hadn't looked in there yet, afraid of what he might find. It was a tall standing dresser, with a greater height than width. It was painted green—the same green as her room's accent wall. He noticed intricate carvings made throughout the wood. But it was the rough carvings of six names positioned in the top right corner that caught his attention the most.

Rue, Pip, Claret, Chrys, Nan, and Six.

Six names.

"There were six founders of the Vatalia. I was the youngest, so they considered me the sixth founder."

For six founders.

He pulled open the drawer and looked inside, his eyes catching sight of pastel fabrics and frilly—he recoiled, flailing about and stumbling backwards, nearly losing his footing and falling over.

He pressed his hand on his forehead, head dipped and his eyes gone wide.

It was her underwear drawer.