Whispered Vows (Mistborn x Reader)

Chapter 11

Kelsier paused in the doorway, blocking my view. I stooped down, trying to peek past him into the lair, but too many people were in the way. I could only tell that the door hung at an angle, splintered, the upper hinge torn free.

Kelsier stood for a long moment. Finally, he turned, looking past Dockson toward me. "Ham is right, Y/n. You may not want to see this."

I looked at him resolutely. "Let me see."

Kelsier started shaking his head. "Y/n—"

"I'm done being sheltered, Kelsier."

Kelsier and I locked eyes.

Finally, Kelsier sighed, stepping into the room. Dockson followed, and I could finally see what they had been blocking.

The floor was scattered with corpses, their twisted limbs shadowed and haunting in the light of Dockson's solitary lantern. They weren't rotting yet—the attack had happened only that morning—but there was still a smell of death about the room. The scent of blood drying slowly, the scent of misery and of terror.

I remained in the doorway, frozen.

This wasn't just death. This had an air of intentional butchery. These men hadn't simply been killed, they had been torn apart. Limbs lay separated from torsos. Broken chairs and tables impaled chests. There were only a few patches of floor that were not covered in sticky, dark blood.

Kelsier glanced at me, obviously expecting some sort of reaction. I stood, looking over the death. I swallowed thickly but fought to keep my face impassive as I stepped into the room.

In addition, the gore itself was disturbing. I tried to force myself to maintain a stiff face in front of the others, but I found myself cringing occasionally, glancing away from mangled corpses. The ones who had performed the attack had been quite...thorough.

"Inquisitor," Dockson said quietly, kneeling by a corpse.

Kelsier nodded. Behind me, Sazed stepped into the room, careful to keep his robes clear of the blood. I turned toward the Terrisman, letting his actions distract me from a particularly grisly corpse. Kelsier was a Mistborn, and Dockson was supposedly a capable warrior. Ham and his men were securing the area. However, others—Breeze, Yeden, and Clubs—had stayed behind. The area was too dangerous. Kelsier had even resisted my desire to come.

Sazed's smooth step and calm face told me he didn't appear shocked by the carnage.

I picked my way through shattered furniture, stepping clear of blood pools, making my way to Kelsier's side. He crouched beside a pair of corpses. One, I noticed in a moment of shock, had been Ulef. The boy's face was contorted and pained, the front of his chest a mass of broken bones and ripped flesh—as if someone had forcibly torn the rib cage apart with his hands.

"This isn't good," Kelsier said quietly. "Steel Inquisitors don't generally bother with simple thieving crews. Usually, the obligators would just come down with their troops and take everyone captive, then use them to make a good show on an execution day. An Inquisitor would only get involved if it had a special interest in the crew.

"There are only about twenty Steel Inquisitors in the whole of the Final Empire, and half of them are out of Luthadel at any given time. I find it too much of a coincidence that you, Y/n, would catch one's interest, escape, and then have your old lair get hit."

I couldn't look away from Ulef's fear-twisted face. What would it feel like, to have your insides torn out? To feel each rib snap as the Inquisitor pulled it apart?

I nearly retched, but I swallowed the urge, looking away and squeezing my eyes shut tightly.

"Y/n?" I heard Kelsier ask.