《Shadows Over Eldermist》 Chapter 1: Where Fog Meets Flame The carriage creaked to a halt, and Evelyn Blackwood stepped onto the glistening cobblestones, her boots clicking against the wet stone. The fog clung to her coat as if it had been waiting for her arrival, swirling in slow, ghostly eddies. Overhead, the wrought-iron streetlamp buzzed faintly, its yellow light barely managing to cut through the dense haze. She adjusted her collar, green eyes darting over the damp, uneven street with a practiced wariness. Her hand found the pocket of her coat, fishing out a battered cigarette case. The snap of its lid echoed louder than it should have, and she struck a match with a scrape that split the night. The flame flickered weakly before catching, casting a brief glow over her face¡ªangular, lined with shadows that came more from her expression than the poor lighting. She lit the cigarette, shook out the match, and took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl lazily from her lips. The street was empty save for the occasional creak of machinery or hiss of steam rising from the grates. A strange, uneasy peace, but not a comfort. Nothing in Eldermist was comforting. She blew out a plume of smoke and muttered under her breath, ¡°One good thing about this city¡ªnobody¡¯s watching when you need to think.¡± Her eyes scanned the street again, lingering on patches of deeper shadow between the gas lamps. Sometimes the dark held secrets even she couldn¡¯t pull out. A flicker of movement caught her attention, but it was only a stray cat slipping into the gloom. She smirked. ¡°Relax, Blackwood. Not everything in the dark wants to kill you.¡± With the cigarette perched on her lips, she turned down a side street, the sharp echo of her boots cutting the heavy silence. Here, the cobblestones gave way to a narrow alley, its walls crowded with the layered history of the city. Ancient runes, etched deep into the stone, whispered faintly of forgotten enchantments; beside them, modern graffiti shouted in neon colors, their fluorescent paint glowing faintly in the mist. One rune caught her eye¡ªa curling script that looked older than the walls themselves. She ran a gloved finger over it, muttering under her breath. ¡°Wonder how long you¡¯ve been here.¡± The silence broke behind her. A faint scuffle, too quick to be a rat. Her spine stiffened as she reached for the knife tucked at her side. She kept walking, slower now, her ears pricked for any hint of pursuit. Another scuffle, this time ahead, and she froze, cigarette smoke curling around her like a veil. ¡°Alright,¡± she called, voice steady, carrying the weight of someone who had spent years sizing up threats in the dark. ¡°If you¡¯re looking to mug me, I¡¯d suggest a better mark. And a bigger knife.¡± No answer. Just the fog pressing closer, thick enough to taste. Her simultaneously popping the clasp and unsheathing the knife in one experienced motion, the blade whispering against its sheath as she drew it. Then she saw him¡ªor rather, the faint outline of someone¡ªslipping deeper into the mist, the shape quick and fluid. She didn¡¯t follow. Something about the way he moved told her he wasn¡¯t desperate enough to risk a fight. Probably just another thief casing the alleys for easier prey. Or something worse. In Eldermist, "something worse" was usually the safer bet. Evelyn stepped back, leaning against the wall and slipping the knife away. She took another drag, the ember flaring like an eye in the dark. The figure disappeared entirely, swallowed by the fog. No sounds followed. No danger pressed closer. ¡°Smart,¡± she muttered to the empty street, her voice low and dry. She stood there for a moment longer, letting the quiet fill her lungs along with the smoke. Pulling out her pocket watch from her waist pocket as her thumb depressing the latch before letting the small gold and silver pocket watch come to rest in the palm of her gloved hand. Taking a final pull of her cigarette she criticized the time, *late again.* Adjusting her coat, she stepped out of the alley, continuing down the dark winding streets. Evelyn stepped into the shadowed nook by the side of the old train yard, the fog curling thick around her boots like smoke rising from the city¡¯s grates. The faint glow of a charm etched into the brickwork caught her eye¡ªsubtle magic to ward off unwanted guests. She muttered her thanks to the unseen caster, slipping inside The Rusted Chalice through the weathered wooden door. The bar¡¯s interior unfolded like an exhale. Warm light spilled from strings of vintage bulbs, brushing against the brick walls and pooling in the dark wood paneling. The faint hum of jazz floated above the low murmur of conversation. Evelyn made a beeline to the far corner, her green eyes narrowing as they picked Isabella out of the dim crowd. Isabella sat tucked into a booth beneath the massive river-facing window, her head bent over something small and mechanical in her hands. The steady click of gears filled the gap between jazz notes, her nimble fingers adjusting a tiny cog here, winding a spring there. Evelyn paused at the edge of the table, watching for a second longer than she should have. A wisp of chestnut hair had slipped loose, framing Isabella¡¯s furrowed brow. Evelyn swallowed, brushing the moment off like lint from her coat, and slid into the seat opposite. ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± Isabella said without looking up. Her voice was soft, teasing more than accusatory. ¡°City traffic,¡± Evelyn replied dryly, lighting a cigarette. The ember glowed briefly, casting shadows across her face. ¡°What¡¯re you working on this time?¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Isabella glanced up, her green eyes meeting Evelyn¡¯s. They were warmer than the glow of the Chalice¡¯s lights, but there was a tension there too, like a string pulled taut. She held up the clockwork toy¡ªa tiny automaton bird, its wings poised mid-flutter. ¡°Just keeping my hands busy. You¡¯d know a thing or two about that, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± Evelyn smirked around the cigarette, shaking her head. ¡°Cute.¡± For a moment, the bar¡¯s cozy noise seemed distant. Isabella reached across the table, her hand brushing Evelyn¡¯s knuckles before curling around them. The motion was quick, almost furtive, but Evelyn didn¡¯t pull away. Instead, she turned her palm over, threading their fingers together. ¡°I worry about you,¡± Isabella said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Every time you¡¯re late, I think¡ª¡± Evelyn squeezed her hand, cutting her off. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± The word came sharp, but her eyes softened as they searched Isabella¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯m here. That¡¯s all that matters.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± Isabella countered, leaning closer. The glow from the window outlined her profile, making her look like something drawn from a dream. ¡°You¡¯re in danger every day, Evelyn. This city¡ªthis work¡ªit doesn¡¯t give second chances.¡± Evelyn pulled her cigarette from her lips, exhaling a thin stream of smoke to the side. ¡°And what am I supposed to do, Bella? Hang up the coat? Start tending bar here with Drake and his fireproof mugs?¡± Isabella bit her lip, her free hand toying absently with the bird on the table. ¡°Maybe,¡± she said, her voice tinged with a hint of hope and more than a little fear. Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t last two weeks watching me sling drinks for rowdy lizard folk and drunks with bad charmwork.¡± ¡°You¡¯d look good doing it,¡± Isabella murmured. The comment was quiet, almost absentminded, but it was enough to pull a rare smile from Evelyn. The smile faded as Evelyn leaned back, withdrawing her hand slowly but leaving a trace of warmth behind. ¡°I can¡¯t quit, Bella. You know that as well as I do.¡± Isabella looked down at her empty glasses. She nodded, though it was reluctant. ¡°I just don¡¯t want you to end up another name on a charm wall somewhere.¡± Evelyn tilted her head, studying her with an intensity that had made more than a few criminals crack. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯ve got you,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°To keep me from getting sloppy.¡± Isabella didn¡¯t smile, not fully, but her lips curved just enough to be noticed. ¡°Then you¡¯d better listen when I tell you to be careful.¡± Evelyn stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, her expression unreadable. ¡°Always do.¡± A ghostly laugh drifted from behind the bar¡ªElara, no doubt¡ªbut the two women stayed locked in their quiet bubble. Evelyn leaned back in the worn leather booth, her eyes half-closed as she savored the last drag of her cigarette. The smoke curled lazily upward, catching the low glow of the magic bulbs strung across the ceiling like constellations. To her left, Isabella tucked a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, her hands restless as they cradled the stem of her glass. The faint jazz from the band mingled with murmured conversations, the kind of ambiance that begged you to stay just a little longer. But Evelyn had never been one to linger. "You''re not listening," Isabella said, lightly bumping her head into Evelyn''s shoulder, her voice light but her brows pulling together. Evelyn smirked, flicking ash into the ash tray. "I am. You were on about¡­some endangered sea slug?" ¡°Sea grass,¡± Isabella corrected with a sigh, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a smile. ¡°And it¡¯s vital for coastal ecosystems. Honestly, you¡¯d love it if you gave it half a chance.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Evelyn drawled, tilting her head down to look her in the eyes, teasing. ¡°Sea grass. My new favorite thing. Right after shadow hopping and chain-smoking.¡± Isabella shook her head but let the moment hang. The quiet between them was easy¡ªcomfortably worn like an old coat. Evelyn glanced at the giant window across from them. The river outside glistened under the moonlight, the kind of scene poets wrote about and cynics ignored. For a second, Evelyn thought maybe she could stay a little longer after all. Then the stone in her pocket began to hum. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she dug it out, the smooth, black surface faintly warm in her palm. Before Isabella could ask, the stone rolled itself out of her hand and hovered in midair. With a faint shimmer, it spat out a neatly wrapped parchment onto the table. The bar around them didn¡¯t flinch. It was that kind of place¡ªmagic dropped in like an uninvited guest, but no one raised an eyebrow. Evelyn stared at the seal on the parchment, the emblem of Eldermist¡¯s law enforcement unmistakable in its intricacy. The faint curl of her smirk evaporated. Isabella set her glass down carefully. ¡°You¡¯re not going to like this, are you?¡± Isabella asked softly. ¡°Never do,¡± Evelyn muttered, breaking the seal with her thumb. She unfolded the note with deliberate slowness, as though savoring a last second of denial. The words, written in elegant black ink, were succinct but heavy. Urgent summons. Alaric Thornwood. Incident at the workshop. Her jaw tightened as she folded the parchment back into thirds. Alaric Thornwood wasn¡¯t just another alchemist; he was the alchemist¡ªbrilliant, infuriating, and untouchable. Or at least he had been. Isabella¡¯s hand brushed hers, fingers warm against her own cool, calloused ones. When Evelyn looked back, Isabella was watching her with that soft, searching gaze that always managed to unsettle her. ¡°You¡¯ll handle it,¡± Isabella said. Her voice was steady, but Evelyn caught the flicker of worry beneath it. ¡°I always do.¡± Evelyn squeezed her fingers briefly before pulling away. She reached for her coat draped over the booth¡¯s edge, the worn leather familiar against her fingertips. Shrugging it on, she felt the weight of her responsibilities settle on her shoulders like an old habit. ¡°Don¡¯t wait up,¡± she said, trying for casual, but her voice fell flat. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Isabella lied, a faint smile touching her lips. Evelyn didn¡¯t have a reply for that. She glanced back as she stepped toward the door, catching Isabella watching her. The glow of the bulbs softened the edges of her face, but her eyes stayed sharp¡ªpride and worry, threaded so tightly together they were indistinguishable. The cold hit Evelyn as soon as she stepped outside. Fog crept in off the river, coiling around her boots as she disappeared into the shadows. She didn¡¯t look back. Chapter 2: The Unnatural Pulse The fog hung thick in the streets, swallowing the light from the iron gas lamps until they were nothing but dull halos in the distance. Evelyn adjusted her coat against the bite of the air, her boots clicking steady on the uneven cobblestones. The shadows pressed close tonight, tighter than usual, alive with faint murmurs that prickled the back of her neck. She ignored them. But still, her grip tightened on the knife beneath her coat, her thumb tracing its hilt as if testing reality. Somewhere above, a gargoyle''s stone face loomed out of the gloom above her, its mouth twisted into a perpetual snarl. She could¡¯ve sworn its eyes followed her. "Keep walking," she muttered under her breath. Her own voice felt brittle in the empty street. The shadows answered with a low hiss that could have been wind¡ªor not. She hated when they got chatty. Ahead, Thornwood¡¯s workshop loomed, a silhouette carved from the city''s darker dreams. The wrought-iron gate, that should have been pulsing with protective enchantments, hung slightly ajar, its runes dulled to faint scars in the metal. The building''s gothic spires pierced through the heavy fog, their gargoyle guardians glaring into the abyss. Evelyn exhaled sharply, her breath curling in the icy air. Rune breaches didn¡¯t happen by accident. Thornwood¡¯s defenses were the stuff of legend! Not some novice whos enchantments would stop working if left unattended for a night. She tightened her grip on the knife and approached the gate, her eyes flicking to the door beyond. The telltale shimmer of protective wards there was also fractured¡ªbroken like glass struck too hard but not shattered. "Sloppy," she muttered, her voice just loud enough to cut through the murmurs of the fog. A sound behind her¡ªa scrape of something shifting. Evelyn twisted, her knife slipping free in a clean arc. Nothing. Only the usual suspects of the arcane district: spectral traces shimmering faintly on the air, a flicker of movement that was more suggestion than form. She let the blade lower slightly but didn¡¯t sheath it. Her eyes darted back to the door, narrowing. Someone¡ªor something¡ªhad come in the front. No subtlety. The kind of breach that said whoever had done it either didn¡¯t fear the consequences. "Bad sign," she murmured, her breath visible in the cold. Her eyes then turned to scanned the workshop. The windows, tall and narrow, glowed faintly from within, their stained-glass windows looking like dozens of lighthouses as sea. She slipped a cigarette from its battered case, struck a match, and let the ritual calm her. The first drag stung her lungs but her exhale was slow and deliberate. The smoke lazily drifted towards the iron bars, with a little help from her magic. As the smoke was about the cross the threshold it stopped and scattering to the sides, reveling a second invisible wall that coated the gates like a second skin. Evelyn slid her knife back into its sheath. She didn¡¯t bother for flair, slipping into the shadows pooling at the base of the gate. She shoved the cigarette between her teeth and slid deeper into the shadows, crossing the threshold. The sensation was immediate¡ªan icy pressure along her ribs, as though the air had decided it didn¡¯t care much for her presence. Definitely on the verge of failing she thought mindlessly. ¡°Nice to meet you, too,¡± she said under her breath. Once past the gate and its defenses, she reemerged inside the courtyard. An uneasy silence moving in to replace the pressure she felt earlier. The gargoyles perched above seemed to leer down at her, their chipped faces casting grotesque shadows in the faint light from the runes. One of them had a new crack along its wing, dust and stone shards scattered at the base of its pedestal. She kicked a piece experimentally. No sound. That, more than the runes, made her skin prickle. Closer now, she could see the scorch marks around the ward. Whoever did this knew just enough to break in, but not enough to do it cleanly. Amateurs with more confidence than skill. It didn¡¯t make her feel better. Before stepping through, Evelyn paused to test the shadows by the wall. She slipped into them like sliding into cool water, her body melding with the darkness until she could listen without being seen. No voices, no clumsy footsteps, but the air buzzed faintly¡ªtraces of something left behind.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. She stepped out again and gave a low whistle. "Well, they weren¡¯t planning on keeping it subtle." Her fingers flexed around the knife, and she leaned on the door, testing its give. It creaked open slightly, and she let herself grin. Whoever broke the wards didn¡¯t even bother with the lock. Sloppy didn¡¯t begin to cover it. Evelyn drew a deep breath, the fog curling into her lungs. The whispers in the air grew louder again, unintelligible but somehow closer. She stepped inside, knife first, eyes sharp. Whatever mess waited for her beyond Thornwood¡¯s door wasn¡¯t going to explain itself. Her boots crunching on shards of glass and the fine dust of pulverized crystal. The air clung to her throat, thick with the tang of burnt sage and the acrid bite of something far less natural. She held her breath for a moment, listening. The room crackled with residual energy, like the static hum before a storm. "Well, this isn¡¯t sloppy work," she muttered, her sharp eyes sweeping over the chaos. A body lay splayed in the center of the room¡ªAlaric, his once-proud frame twisted unnaturally, as if he had been hit by a bolder. A broken vial dangled from his fingertips, its contents seeping into the cracks of the stone floor like blood seeking escape. Evelyn crouched beside him, her ponytail falling over one shoulder as she examined the scene. No immediate signs of a struggle, but the magical residue etched into the air made her skin prickle. Whatever hit Alaric had been surgical¡ªclean magic, deadly in its precision. The wards on the door, though? She glanced back at the runes carved into the archway. The damage was jagged, like someone using a hacksaw to cut paper, their glow sputtering out a final dying breath before falling into darkness. Someone had rushed this. "You had a good run," she murmured, flicking a glance at Alaric¡¯s weathered face. His expression was frozen halfway between defiance and disbelief. Her fingers ghosted over the vial he clutched. It bore no markings, no hints of its contents. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, a sickly iridescence that made her stomach tighten. She set it aside on the edge of a workbench, careful not to disturb the other wreckage¡ªa tangle of gears, glass tubing, and rune-inscribed components that once formed something ingenious. Or deadly. Maybe both. Behind her, the faint hum of a failing enchantment grew louder. A bronze construct, incomplete and jagged, twitched on the floor nearby. Its gears spun in erratic fits before grinding to a halt with a final, pitiful screech. Evelyn shot it a glance. "Don¡¯t bother trying to come to life," she said, before turning back to the workbench. "Your maker clocked out early." A flicker in the corner of her vision drew her attention. One of the wall¡¯s protective sigils was fading in and out, the glow stuttering like a dying candle. Evelyn frowned. The building¡¯s defenses were ancient, older than anyone who had worked within these walls for centuries. Breaking them was no small feat. Breaking them sloppily? That didn¡¯t track. Her shadow stretched, elongating unnaturally as she let it bleed into the dim corners. Within seconds, she was gone, absorbed into the labyrinth of flickering darkness that threaded through the room. From there, she moved silently, her perspective shifting as she reappeared in a darker pocket near the ceiling. Evelyn crouched in the shadows, taking a moment to give the facts a once over in her mind. "Messy doors, perfect kill. Why rush the easy part?" she said aloud to the silence. Her voice echoed faintly off the vaulted ceiling, where shadows pooled in the crevices like ink spilled on parchment. Stepping over Alaric¡¯s body, Evelyn made her way toward another workbench. Her boots left faint smudges in the fine powder on the ground, traces of ingredients that might¡¯ve been the man¡¯s last experiment. The space was a graveyard of unfinished projects: a mechanical bird that made her think of Isabella, its wings frozen mid-flap; a stack of papers, their edges singed; a single enchanted crystal, glowing weakly in its brass cradle. She moved the papers aside, scanning for anything Alaric might¡¯ve left behind¡ªnotes, a warning, a clue. Instead, she found a ring of blackened scorch marks burned into the surface. "Hell of a calling card," she muttered, running a thumb along the edge. It was too precise to be an accident, too deliberate to be anything but a message. She could practically feel the arrogance of whoever left it behind. She straightened and turned back toward the body, her eyes narrowing. Whoever had done this was confident, sure they wouldn¡¯t be caught. That kind of cockiness grated at her. "Sloppy and smug," she muttered. "You¡¯re making this too easy for me." She moved toward the door, her gaze darting to the flickering sigils along the walls. The shadows here felt alive, shifting just beyond her peripheral vision. She let her own magic slip outward, brushing against the darkness, melding with it. If there were answers in this room, they¡¯d be found in the secrets the shadows had swallowed. Evelyn stepped back into the dim corridor, glancing once more at Alaric¡¯s body. She lit a cigarette, giving her lungs something to breath other than singed iron and burnet alchemical herbs. "Rest easy, Alaric," she muttered through the smoke, her tone clipped. "This is going to be a long night." Chapter 3: Whispers Behind the Wall The clank of gears and the flicker of half-dead runes in the stonework made the room feel like it was alive¡ªbreathing, waiting, watching. Evelyn leaned against a workbench cluttered with alchemical apparatuses, the smell of burnt ozone lingering in the air. Her shadow flickers towards the door. Movement! Someone is coming. Someone...small. The door slammed open with the kind of urgency Evelyn usually associated with someone running from a fire, not towards it! She pushed off the workbench and slipped back into the cold night of her shadow, hand instinctively brushing the hilt of the blade strapped to her side. A wiry figure stumbled in, arms cradling what looked like a glittering pile of shattered starlight¡ªcrystals, rare enough to fund a year of her paychecks. His sandy hair fell into his face as he took in the scene. The blood, the runes, Alaric¡¯s slumped form. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The materials slipped from his hands, scattering across the floor like shattered dreams. "Alaric?" The voice cracked, trembling like a plucked string. Evelyn didn¡¯t answer. She watched him from inside the shadows. She watched the way his shoulders dropped, the way his breath hitched. Genuine grief painted across his fair face. But something else flickered there too, an undercurrent she couldn¡¯t quite name. She stayed silent as he knelt beside the body, his ink-smudged fingers trembling as they hovered over the motionless corpse. ¡°No... no, no.¡± The words came out in a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the dying wards. ¡°Would¡¯ve been a hell of a welcome home,¡± Evelyn said finally, emerging from the darkness, her voice low and even. ¡°If he were still breathing, that is.¡± The man¡¯s head snapped up, blue eyes sharp despite the moisture gathering in them. ¡°Who¡ªwho are you?¡± ¡°Evelyn Blackwood. Detective.¡± She pulled a cigarette from its holder, rolling it between her fingers but not lighting it. ¡°Got called in when someone noticed your boss wasn¡¯t answering his door. Lucky me.¡± He blinked at her, processing. His lips parted, then closed, and he looked back at the body like answers might be found there. ¡°And you are?¡± Evelyn prompted, waving the cigarette in a slow circular motion. ¡°Lysander Voss.¡± His voice steadied, though his hands didn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯m... was his apprentice.¡± ¡°Not much of a promotion now, is it?¡± Her tone was dry, her green eyes unrelenting. ¡°Mind telling me where you were while your mentor was getting himself murdered?¡± ¡°I¡ª¡± He hesitated, his fingers twitching toward the crystals scattered across the floor. ¡°He sent me out. To gather materials for a new experiment. The light quartz and shadow opals¡ª¡± His gaze darted to her, and Evelyn didn¡¯t miss the subtle shift in his posture, like he¡¯d just realized he was sitting in the wrong chair at the wrong poker table. ¡°Convenient timing,¡± she said, keeping her voice casual. She pulled a notebook from her coat pocket, flipping it open and pretending to jot something down. ¡°What was this experiment?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t tell me.¡± Lysander¡¯s words came fast, too fast. ¡°He never told me everything. Just what I needed to do my part.¡± ¡°How obedient of you.¡± Evelyn tucked the notebook back and stepped closer, her boots scuffing the uneven stone floor. The shadows on the walls seemed to stretch toward her, a subtle pull she didn¡¯t bother to resist. ¡°Any reason someone might¡¯ve wanted Alaric dead?¡± Lysander¡¯s jaw tightened, and his gaze darted away, fixing on a particularly elaborate brass contraption. ¡°He had enemies. Every alchemist does. That¡¯s the nature of the craft. Competition is... fierce.¡± ¡°Enemies,¡± Evelyn echoed, tilting her head. ¡°Specific ones?¡± He hesitated. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know.¡± Evelyn stepped closer, her shadow brushing his, and leaned in just enough to make him flinch. ¡°Don¡¯t make me ask twice, Voss. What aren¡¯t you saying?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Lysander snapped, louder than he intended. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving a streak of ink across his temple. ¡°I wasn¡¯t here, all right? I wasn¡¯t here when¡ªwhen this happened.¡± ¡°Relax.¡± Evelyn held up a hand, watching him crumble like damp paper. ¡°You¡¯re not on trial. Yet.¡± He swallowed hard, his Adam¡¯s apple bobbing. ¡°I just¡ªthere were tensions, all right? Disagreements. Alaric didn¡¯t... he didn¡¯t think I was ready for some of the things I wanted to try. We argued about it. But he was my mentor. I respected him.¡± ¡°Sure sounds like it,¡± Evelyn murmured, stepping back. Her gaze lingered on him for a beat longer before flicking to the runes on the wall. Fading, broken. ¡°Anything else you want to share?¡± Lysander hesitated again, his hands fidgeting. ¡°No. That¡¯s... that¡¯s all I know.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Right.¡± Evelyn tucked her cigarette back into its case and gave him one last, measuring look. ¡°Don¡¯t go far, Voss. Something tells me this conversation isn¡¯t over.¡± She turned on her heel, the shadows curling after her as she strode toward the broken wards. Behind her, Lysander stayed kneeling by Alaric¡¯s body. His thoughts, Evelyn guessed, tangled in more knots than he was willing to admit. Leaning against a stone wall, arms crossed, Evelyn''s eyes tracking Lysander as he knelt by the body of Alaric. His head was bowed, as though in reverence or guilt; she wasn¡¯t sure which, and it wasn¡¯t her job to guess. Her job was to pry it out of him. ¡°You done down there?¡± Her voice cut through the stillness, low and dry, a match against wet tinder. Lysander glanced over his shoulder, his eyes catching the glow of a nearby rune. He didn¡¯t respond immediately, just exhaled softly, then straightened, brushing dust from his trousers as he stood. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s nothing left to learn here,¡± he said, his tone clipped, though his hands betrayed him by trembling faintly. He clasped them behind his back, but Evelyn had already noticed. She watched him as he walked back to the doorway and collected the supplies he was sent to get. The starlight crystals in his arms caught the flicker of candlelight, refracting faint hues of violet and silver as he crossed to the workbench. With a deliberate care that made her think of someone stalling for time, Lysander placed the pile down beside a clutter of alchemical tools and papers. Evelyn followed, boots soft against the uneven stone floor. ¡°Strange stuff,¡± Lysander murmured, mostly to himself, as he adjusted the crystals. But then his gaze snagged on something else¡ªthe file Evelyn had taken out of Alaric''s hand when she first entered the room. ¡°You recognize that?¡± she asked, leaning in slightly, voice smooth and disarming. She didn¡¯t miss the way his fingers twitched, moving instinctively toward the vial before he caught himself. Lysander hesitated, but the delay was enough for Evelyn to catch the faintest flicker of unease. ¡°The smell,¡± he said finally, his voice low, ¡°and the residue inside. That¡¯s¡­ Sablebane.¡± The word hung in the air like smoke. Evelyn gave him a sidelong glance. ¡°Go on.¡± Lysander wet his lips, fingers drumming the edge of the workbench now. ¡°It¡¯s a poison. Rare. Lethal. Banned in most territories,¡± he said, each sentence quick and precise, like he was running down a checklist. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ almost impossible to acquire without access to the black market.¡± ¡°That so?¡± Evelyn¡¯s tone didn¡¯t shift, but her eyes narrowed just slightly. ¡°Yes.¡± His gaze darted to hers, then away, settling on the vial again. ¡°My¡ªMaster Alaric shouldn¡¯t have had this. It doesn¡¯t make sense. He¡ª¡± Lysander stopped himself, shoulders tightening. ¡°He only ever bought legal items and ingredients.¡± Evelyn let the silence settle between them for a moment, watching how Lysander¡¯s hand drifted toward his hair, pushing it back in a nervous reflex. His words had the faint ring of rehearsed denial, but the way he avoided her eyes told her there was more underneath. ¡°How would you know that?¡± she asked, voice casual but pointed, like a knife in a drawer. Lysander bristled, visibly struggling to piece together a response that wouldn¡¯t unravel further. ¡°I¡ªI assisted him with his purchases. Logged the inventory. I¡¯d know if he ever¡ª¡± ¡°Would you?¡± Evelyn tilted her head, arching a brow. ¡°Yes,¡± Lysander insisted, his voice firmer now, though he didn¡¯t meet her gaze. Instead, he stared at the vial, his jaw set as though he could will the conversation to end. Evelyn straightened, stepping back into the center of the room. ¡°Interesting,¡± she said, ¡°Because you don¡¯t sound entirely convinced yourself.¡± Lysander turned sharply, his ears tinged red at the edges, Evelyn''s eyes still fixed on him cataloging every twitch and tremble. She didn¡¯t need him to admit it now. Lies, like poison, had a way of working their way to the surface eventually. So she stood there and said nothing, her gaze sliding past him to the wall behind his shoulder. The stone there was no different from the rest of the room¡ªdark, worn, and stained with time¡ªbut something about it tugged at her attention. ¡°Move,¡± she said, jerking her chin toward him. Lysander blinked, startled. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°I said, move. You¡¯re standing in my way.¡± Her boots clicked sharply against the uneven floor as she approached the wall, her eyes narrowing on the Sigil etched deep into the surface. She reached out, pulling on a pair of gloves from her coat pocket, the leather creaking faintly as she tugged them on. Her fingers traced the carved lines, following the loops and spikes of the outer sigil¡ªa classic reinforcement rune, expertly etched. But beneath it, barely visible in the flickering light, something darker coiled. Another sigil, its lines hidden within the structure of the first, like a parasite feeding off its host. ¡°This one¡¯s different,¡± Evelyn muttered, almost to herself. As her gloved finger started tracing the intricate lines, noting the faint glow emanating from the grooves. The warmth from the etching hummed against the leather, making the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Evelyn¡¯s lips twitched into a half-smile. ¡°You¡¯ve got a real talent for subtlety here, Voss.¡± She cast a sidelong glance at the alchemist, who was now fidgeting with a brass vial. ¡°What is it?¡± he asked, hesitant. ¡°Two sigils,¡± she said, sketching the overlapping patterns into her notebook with practiced precision. The charcoal pencil scratched against the paper in quick, efficient strokes. ¡°The protection rune¡¯s solid. That part makes sense. These old places are always rigged with them. Keeps the whole operation from blowing itself sky-high in the event of an...Miss calculation, or some alchemist getting too cocky for their own good. But the other¡­¡± Her voice trailed off as she tilted her head, studying the lines. ¡°The second one¡¯s not something you see every day. Or at least, not if you plan to stay on the right side of a permanent prison cell.¡± Lysander swallowed hard, his Adam¡¯s apple bobbing. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know who¡ª¡± ¡°Spare me the stuttering.¡± She closed the notebook and slid it back into her coat. ¡°You know more than you¡¯re saying. Your face gives it away every time you open your mouth.¡± His jaw tightened. ¡°I¡¯m telling the truth,¡± he said, though his eyes darted to the sigil like it might spring to life and rat him out. Evelyn leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Maybe. Or maybe you¡¯re just scared. Either way, you¡¯ll want to think real hard about what you¡¯re sitting on here. Whatever this is¡±¡ªshe gestured toward the wall¡ª¡°it¡¯s dangerous. And I don¡¯t think it¡¯s here by accident.¡± Footsteps echoed in the hallway, the telltale clatter of boots and muted voices signaling the arrival of the other detectives. Evelyn straightened, pulling her gloves off and tucking them into her coat. ¡°Looks like your audience is here,¡± she said, jerking her head toward the door. ¡°Enjoy the show.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Lysander said, his voice lowering. ¡°What happens now?¡± Evelyn paused in the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the frame. ¡°Now? Now I make sure this doesn¡¯t get swept under some bureaucratic rug.¡± She glanced back at him, her expression unreadable. ¡°I¡¯ll be in touch.¡± And with that, she stepped out into the dim corridor, her silhouette briefly swallowed by the flickering shadows, leaving Lysander alone with the hum of sigils and the weight of her words. Chapter 4: Secrets Carved In Time The path in front of her twisted through the mist like a snake hunting its prey. Evelyn tugged her coat tighter, her breath fogging in the sharp bite of the wind. The forest pressed in on her, gnarled trees clawing at the sky, their shadows stretching long and mean. She struck a match, lit a cigarette, and let the glow warm her face for half a second before taking a drag. The smoke coiled in her lungs, dulling the static hum of magic brushing at her senses. It was temporary relief, but better than nothing. Her boots crunched on the frost-bitten trail, the sound swallowed quickly by the heavy quiet of Eldermist¡¯s woods. The cottage emerged from the fog in slow, shifting pieces, as though the mist didn¡¯t quite want to let it go. Bioluminescent vines clung to its walls, pulsing faintly in shades of blue and silver, their glow too deliberate to be natural. Evelyn stopped just short of the door, the cigarette now a smoldering nub between her fingers. She studied the place, her gaze tracing the strange, seamless marriage of wild nature and carefully woven magic. She crushed the cigarette against the sole of her boot and slid it into her pocket. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before her knuckles even brushed the wood, the sudden movement setting the vines along the frame into a faint shiver. The elven sorceress leaned in the doorway, deep violet eyes on a background of tiny shimmering stars. Her robe shimmered like something stolen from a dream, faint threads catching the light with an uncanny glow¡ªmoonlight pinned in fabric, or so it seemed. She didn¡¯t rush; her movements spoke of someone used to being watched, and liking it. ¡°Detective Blackwood,¡± she said, her voice a melody wrapped in caution. Suspicion softened the edges but didn¡¯t dull the blade. ¡°You¡¯ve brought the city¡¯s shadows to my doorstep.¡± Evelyn slid her hands into her coat pockets, letting the weight of the elf¡¯s gaze settle on her without flinching. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, her tone easy but deliberate. ¡°And you¡¯ve got enough moonlight here to keep them company, don¡¯t you, Elara?¡± Elara¡¯s smile deepened by a fraction, a private joke hinted at but never shared. For a breath, the air between them carried both challenge and acknowledgment, two players stepping into the same game. ¡°I¡¯m here about something strange. Mind if I come in?¡± Evelyn asked, breaking the short silence. Elara stepped aside without a word, gesturing fluidly with one hand for Evelyn to enter. The air inside was warmer than outside, heavy with the scent of old parchment and faint traces of lavender. Candles burned in clusters, their flames steady and unnervingly bright, illuminating shelves stacked high with tomes and objects Evelyn didn¡¯t have names for. ¡°Nice place,¡± Evelyn said, her voice low. She tilted her head at a floating orb that shimmered as she passed. ¡°Bit much for my taste, but it suits you.¡± Elara shut the door behind her with a quiet click. ¡°Your tastes were not consulted,¡± she replied, a trace of dry amusement lifting the corners of her mouth. Evelyn chuckled, pulling a small notebook from her coat pocket as she turned to face Elara. ¡°Fair enough. I¡¯ll skip the pleasantries¡ªI need your expertise.¡± The elf¡¯s eyebrows arched ever so slightly. ¡°And here I thought this was a social visit.¡± Evelyn flipped the notebook open, ignoring the quip. The sketch she had drawn earlier stared back at her: a series of intricate lines forming an unrecognizable sigil. ¡°Found this carved into another sigil at a crime scene,¡± she said, her tone sharpening. ¡°Layered, like someone was trying to hide it.¡± Elara¡¯s expression shifted. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier. She reached out, her fingers brushing the notebook page with a delicacy that contrasted sharply with Evelyn¡¯s bluntness. ¡°Impossible,¡± Elara murmured, the melodic quality of her voice giving way to a harder edge. ¡°Sigils cannot overlap without destroying their intended function. To do so is¡­ reckless at best, catastrophic at worst.¡± Elara¡¯s gaze snapped to hers, sharp and searching. ¡°Where did you find this?¡± Evelyn hesitated a fraction of a second before answering. ¡°Alaric¡¯s workshop. After his murder.¡± The mention of Alaric hit its mark. Elara¡¯s shoulders stiffened, her fingers curling quickly away from the sketch in a stiffened motion. For a moment, she didn¡¯t speak. Her gaze dropped back to the sigil, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°I take it you knew him,¡± Evelyn said, leaning against the edge of a table. Her tone was casual, but her eyes didn¡¯t leave Elara¡¯s face. Elara¡¯s voice was quieter when she spoke, almost wistful. ¡°Alaric sought knowledge with a fervor that bordered on recklessness. He often strayed too close to forbidden paths.¡± ¡°And this?¡± Evelyn gestured to the sketch. ¡°One of those paths?¡± Elara¡¯s silence was answer enough. She exhaled, a slow, deliberate sound. ¡°Sigils within sigils are... exceptionally dangerous. They collapse the boundaries of their intended purpose, bending magic in ways it was never meant to flow.¡± ¡°Meaning?¡± Evelyn pressed.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Elara¡¯s eyes darkened, the faint shimmer in them fading like a receding tide. ¡°Meaning whoever created this was either catastrophically ignorant... or dangerously clever.¡± Evelyn frowned, scratching a few notes into her note book. ¡°Could it have been Alaric?¡± Elara shook her head. ¡°No. He wouldn¡¯t have had the knowledge¡ªnor the recklessness¡ªto attempt this.¡± ¡°That leaves someone else,¡± Evelyn said, her tone flat. ¡°Someone who wanted him dead?¡± Elara¡¯s gaze sharpened, her focus snapping back to Evelyn. ¡°Whatever path this sigil marks, you must tread carefully. This isn¡¯t just murder, Detective. This is an unraveling.¡± Evelyn smirked faintly, but there was no humor in her eyes. ¡°Careful¡¯s not exactly my style.¡± ¡°No,¡± Elara murmured, her voice dropping. ¡°It never has been.¡± The air inside the cottage turned sharp, a cold that bit straight through the lining of her coat. Her shadow stirred¡ªsubtle, but there¡ªflattening closer to her boots as if bracing itself. She felt it before she saw anything: a faint tap, deliberate, brushing against the edges of her senses like a whisper with no words. Evelyn slipped a cigarette from her pocket, rolling it between her fingers. The rhythm calmed her nerves, made her voice come out steady, measured. ¡°That sigil,¡± she said, the words clipped enough to cut. ¡°You¡¯re saying you¡¯ve never seen it before? Not once?¡± Elara¡¯s violet eyes remained calm, her slender hands now resting lightly on the spine of a book. ¡°I said no such thing, Detective. I¡¯ve seen it before¡ªmany times, in fact. But not in the way you¡¯re implying.¡± Evelyn raised a brow, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Go on.¡± Elara¡¯s sigh was a soft, measured thing, slipping into the quiet like a leaf falling into still water. Her eyes lifted to the glowing runes etched into the wooden beams overhead, their faint shimmer a reminder of boundaries long upheld. ¡°Layered sigils of the kind you described,¡± she began, her voice clear and deliberate, ¡°are forbidden. Even among my kin, their use is as reckless as it is dangerous. These aren¡¯t mere tools, Evelyn. They¡¯re keys.¡± Her gaze dropped, locking onto Evelyn with a sharpness that carried weight. ¡°Keys to doors that were meant to remain sealed.¡± ¡°And yet, someone had the nerve to pick up the crowbar.¡± Evelyn¡¯s smirk was faint, fleeting. ¡°Funny, though, how this forbidden magic circles back to you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t deny my past involvement with sigil magic. But I do deny any hand in this atrocity.¡± ¡°Your past,¡± Evelyn repeated, slipping a folded newspaper clipping from her pocket and sliding it onto the table. ¡°Speaking of which.¡± Elara didn¡¯t need to glance at the photograph to know what it showed¡ªher own hand clasped with Alaric¡¯s in the triumphant glow of their combined success. The image captured the moment they¡¯d unveiled a golem whose core pulsed with an infused sigil. Beside them, the golem stood motionless, its surface etched with lines that had taken months to perfect. ¡°That was decades ago,¡± Elara murmured, her tone measured. ¡°And it was one project, one experiment.¡± ¡°One experiment that seems relevant now.¡± Evelyn¡¯s voice was dry, her fingers idly tapping the edge of the table. ¡°When was the last time you saw Alaric?¡± Elara¡¯s gaze shifted, not toward Evelyn but to the chest nestled in the shadowed corner of the room. The light caught the chest before Evelyn¡¯s eyes did, teasing the darkened corner with a faint shimmer. The chest wasn¡¯t just old; it wore its years like a soldier¡¯s scars¡ªwood smoothed and cracked in equal measure, the vertical metal bands holding it together looking less like reinforcements and more like restraints. No lock on the lid, no obvious mechanism to guard whatever lay inside, just those faint, intricate esoteric carvings. They pulsed faintly, a slow, rhythmic glow that moved with the room¡¯s hum, as if the chest itself was breathing along with the magic in the air. Evelyn tilted her head, studying it for a beat longer than she should have. ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡± she asked, breaking the silence with a steady voice that didn¡¯t quite match the curiosity threading through her. ¡°That¡¯s not your concern.¡± Elara didn¡¯t look at her, not at first. Her hands moved together in a loose clasp, deliberate, like she was holding back more than she was willing to show. When she finally met Evelyn¡¯s gaze, her tone held firm¡ªnot loud, not cold, but with the kind of weight that could pin you to the spot. ¡°Detective, you¡¯re walking a line thinner than you realize. My patience may be generous, but it isn¡¯t endless.¡± Evelyn let the words settle, her eyes flicking between Elara and the chest. She wasn¡¯t sure which one demanded more caution. Elara stepped closer, her violet gaze locking with Evelyn¡¯s. ¡°If you¡¯re looking for answers, you won¡¯t find them here.¡± The soft hum of the cottage seemed to grow louder as the tension thickened. Evelyn held her ground, though her fingers itched toward her cigarette again. ¡°I think we¡¯re done here,¡± Elara said, her voice carrying the weight of finality. ¡°You have the information you need to proceed. I suggest you use it...wisely.¡± Evelyn pushed off the table, sliding the newspaper clipping back into her pocket. She didn¡¯t bother with a goodbye, only a curt nod as she turned toward the door. The ambient glow of the vines brightened briefly, as if acknowledging her departure. Outside, the cool night air wrapped around her like an old coat. Evelyn lit her cigarette, taking a long drag as she walked down the path back towards the city. The image of the chest¡ªand the matching symbols¡ªgnawed at her thoughts. Whatever Elara was hiding, it wasn¡¯t small. The cigarette¡¯s ember flared as Evelyn exhaled, a faint wisp of smoke curling around her in the dim light. Alaric¡¯s workshop wasn¡¯t far¡ªif the golem was still intact, it could hold the key to untangling the mess she was about to wade into. But her thoughts kept snagging on something else, something that wouldn¡¯t let go. The symbols on that chest gnawed at the edges of her mind, as if they were whispering a forgotten truth she couldn¡¯t quite grasp. It was maddening, like a name perched on the tip of her tongue, forever out of reach. She flicked ash from her cigarette, her lips pulling into a frown as her memory sifted through the scene at the workshop. Symbols and carvings had covered nearly every surface¡ªAlaric¡¯s work was always known as a riot of chaotic brilliance. But the more she replayed it in her head, the more certain she became that she¡¯d missed something crucial. Her mental gears churned, teasing out fragments of what she¡¯d seen: the jumble of runes, the haphazard arrangement of tools and notes, the sharp smell of burnt herbs. Evelyn tapped the cigarette filter against her thumb, irritated now. A kick of frustration rattled through her brain¡ª_how could I have been so careless?_ The thought pressed in like a splinter, demanding to be dug out. Chapter 5: A Sparrows Secrets Pulling the cigarette from her lips, Evelyn stepped through the doorway to Alaric''s workshop once more. Gone where the warning glows of blue crystal light, the flickering oranges of candle light, and green hums of magic sigils on the walls, now replaced with the golden yellows of daylight. Embers flaring as she took a slow inhale before exhaling a slow ribbon of smoke. The workshop was as she¡¯d left it¡ªchaotic but untouched, save for her own and the other police officers'' disturbance from the night before. She let the cigarette drop to the floor before crushing it with the heel of her boot. The smell of stale magic, grease, and something faintly metallic lingered in the air, clinging like an accusation. ¡°Now where are you,¡± she muttered to herself, her voice just loud enough to fill the silence. Her gaze shifted over the quiet workshop, stopping on the spot where Alaric was found. The memory flickered back to the front of her mind, unwanted but persistent: his body, cold and splayed out among his life¡¯s work. Evelyn rolled her shoulders as if to shake it off, her gaze snapping to the desk in the far corner. It was an unassuming thing, wooden and battered by decades of tinkering. Wires spilled out of drawers like intestines, sheets of old notes and parchments where piled high. Evelyn started there. The rune-etched walls loomed over her as if mocking her oversight. Her fingers brushed over the clutter on the workbench: bits of copper wire, a half-disassembled automaton hand, and vials of substances in every shade of danger! She set each object aside with meticulous care, her green eyes flicking between them and the notes scattered haphazardly across the surface. The man might have been brilliant, but organization clearly hadn¡¯t been his strong suit. Most of the notes were indecipherable¡ªesoteric symbols and calculations that would take her months to figure out. A few references stood out, though: sigils scrawled beside Alaric¡¯s looping handwriting, underlined as if to demand attention. Her pen scratched across her own notebook, recording each one with mechanical precision. When the first desk yielded nothing she moved onto the next one. Leaning over it, her fingers skimming the edges of papers and stray pens like she could coax a secret out of the grain. Nothing. Just the same stubborn silence it had offered last night. She straightened, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, and let her gaze fall to the next workbench. Alaric¡¯s tools sprawled across it like an unfinished symphony, chaotic but purposeful. There was a rhythm to the mess¡ªpliers balanced on the edge, gears nestled in their tiny bowls, a half-empty vial resting against a notebook smudged with grease. She could almost feel him there, the way he must¡¯ve known exactly where each piece belonged. "What am I not seeing?" she muttered to herself, whilst flicking through the pages of a notebook that seemed to be more dust than leather. A flicker of gold caught her eye. She froze. The small mechanical bird perched on the desk, its tiny brass wings tilted just so, as if it had paused mid-flight. Evelyn frowned. She had not seen it there last night. Rather it was tucked in with the other many projects in varying states of completion. Now, it sat on the side back corner of the table, bold, almost deliberate, like it had something to say. The bird felt heavier than it looked when she picked it up, its cold metal smooth against her palm. She turned it over once, then set it aside, careful not to upset the precarious order of things. Beneath where it had sat, her fingers brushed something else¡ªcool, round, and smooth. The sensation stopped her cold. A spark snapped against her skin, sharp and quick, like the nip of an impatient terrier. ¡°Cute,¡± she muttered, her voice low, dry as a leftover joke. Her lips twitched in spite of herself, but her hands kept moving, slower now. She eased the object out from under the scattered papers. It glinted as she lifted the silver locket, the surface plain except for the sigil etched across the front. Her thumb traced the lines instinctively, slow and deliberate, as though touching it might make it disappear. But it stayed, stubborn and sure, just like the chest in Elara¡¯s cottage¡ªthe iron bands, the same mark. A perfect match! ¡°You¡¯re the thing I missed, aren¡¯t you?¡± Evelyn murmured. The metal cool against her skin. A quick glance back towards the palm sized metal bird. "Someone is either making it too easy," annoyance in her tone. "Or someone else is still here." Her thumb grazed the edge of the locket. When it didn¡¯t open at a nudge, she pressed harder. The sigil flared faintly, a warning she felt more than saw. Evelyn raised an eyebrow. ¡°Not the friendly sort, are you?¡± She pressed again, this time with the tip of a small tool from the workbench. The reaction was the same: stubbornly shut with a faint magical hum that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. ¡°Magic,¡± she muttered in annoyance. ¡°Of course.¡± The notebook was back out, her pen flying across the page. She wrote down the locket¡¯s location¡ªwedged beneath a stack of diagrams¡ªand described its appearance, noting the faint glow of the sigil when she attempted to open it. Every detail mattered, she reminded herself. The last thing she needed was to overlook something *twice!* Once the details were secured in ink, she slipped the locket into her coat pocket, the cold sliver coming to rest against her side. Whatever this was, it had ties to Elara¡ªand likely to whoever had left Alaric¡¯s body cooling on the floor. The workshop was still eerily silent as she moved toward the door, her boots clicking softly against the stone. The sun caught on a series of brass gears mounted to a nearby wall, sending a spattering of light across the floor. She paused once, glancing back at the mess she¡¯d left behind. The little bird looked back at her from across the room. Clicking her tongue once before strolling back over to the bird, picking it up. Then squared her shoulders and left in search of the one thing that could give her some clues as to what this locket was. The hall yawned out in front of her, wide enough to swallow a cathedral and twice as cluttered. Brass pipes and copper doodads littered the workbenches, jumbled up with crumbling old books and scrolls that looked like they¡¯d crumble to dust if you so much as breathed on them. Overhead, gears the size of carriage wheels spun slow and aimless, like they were trying to remember what they were supposed to do. In the corner, a half-built automaton sat slumped like a drunk at closing time, its tin head cocked at an awkward angle. Across the room, a curtain gave a twitch¡ªjust a whisper of motion in the dead air, enough to make her fingers itch. Evelyn took a drag from her cigarette, let the smoke curl out like she had all the time in the world. ¡°If you¡¯re here to repent, I didn¡¯t bring my rosary.¡± Her voice slicing through the dimming light. The curtain shuddered again, then peeled back, slow and deliberate, like it didn¡¯t want to give up its secret. Evelyn recognized the hulking figure immediately! Gregor Ironhand stepped out, big as a bear and built like a bad idea. Wood and metal made up his frame, but his movement now would be more accurate if he was made of straw! His brass joints clicked in the quiet, his glowing blue eyes tilted just enough downward to look¡­ apologetic? Gregor¡¯s fingers twitched, metal scraping softly as he wrung his enormous hands together. He stopped a good ten feet away, his bulk almost shrinking under the weight of her stare.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Well?¡± she said, tapping ash off her cigarette like she might just get bored and walk out. ¡°Don¡¯t make me wait. I¡¯m not the patient type.¡± The towering figure of Gregor Ironhand seemed to slump, the creak of brass and iron joints echoing faintly. His broad shoulders dipped, and for a moment, the imposing golem looked almost human¡ªwearied, uncertain. Evelyn¡¯s sharp green eyes caught the flicker in his luminous gaze, a rhythm like the hesitant flutter of dying light crystals. Twice it stuttered, accompanied by a soft hum that, if she didn¡¯t know better, might¡¯ve been regret. ¡°I am... processing,¡± Gregor said, his voice a deep rumble underscored by the silence that followed. His words hung in the air, precise yet halting, each syllable deliberate as if spoken through the weight of fog. ¡°It appears I am... disoriented.¡± Evelyn leaned back against the wall, one boot crossed over the other. The cigarette tucked between her fingers burned low, sending a thin wisp of smoke curling upward. She studied him, letting the silence fill the space between them. He didn¡¯t move to fill it, a trait she appreciated in a stranger. ¡°Disoriented, huh?¡± she finally said, her tone dry as the dust around them. ¡°Big guy like you, I¡¯d have figured you were the one doing the disorienting.¡± Gregor¡¯s head tilted, the polished brass casing of his face catching the light. ¡°Clarification: I intend no harm. This state of disarray is... unintended.¡± Evelyn smirked, flicking the cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with her heel. ¡°Didn¡¯t say you did. Name¡¯s Evelyn Blackwood, by the way.¡± She tapped her coat pocket, where a folded newspaper clipping rustled faintly. ¡°You¡¯re Gregor Ironhand, right? Hard to miss a face¡ªor a chassis¡ªlike yours in the papers.¡± His luminous eyes shifted from azure to a faint emerald glow, the faint etchings on his frame brightening as he processed her words. ¡°Affirmative. My designation is Gregor Ironhand.¡± He paused, a faint ticking filling the air like the moment before a clock struck the hour. ¡°You are familiar with me. Query: Do you require assistance?¡± Evelyn raised an eyebrow, her smirk softening into something resembling curiosity. ¡°Assistance? Not unless you can tell me why the man who built you was found dead in his workshop last night?" Gregor¡¯s eyes brightened slightly, then dimmed again. ¡°My operational logs from the last forty-eight hours are... inaccessible. They are either corrupted or locked behind security protocols I cannot override.¡± ¡°You¡¯re telling me someone tampered with you,¡± she said, tilting her head to appraise him. At seven feet, Gregor towered over her, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch the length of the hall. ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not playing dumb?¡± ¡°I cannot ¡®play dumb,¡¯ Detective Blackwood,¡± he replied, the faintest hint of indignation threading his otherwise formal tone. ¡°My systems operate on logic and data, though I acknowledge gaps in my current operational capabilities.¡± ¡°Well,¡± she started, ¡°You think whoever killed Alaric did this to you?¡± Gregor¡¯s eyes flickered emerald for a brief moment before settling back to blue. ¡°The probability is high, though I cannot substantiate this claim. My final uncorrupted memory is of Alaric instructing me to safeguard the workshop.¡± ¡°Real thorough job there.¡± She let the words hang in the air, watching for his reaction. If he felt guilt it didn¡¯t register. ¡°Affirmative,¡± Gregor said, his tone devoid of irony. ¡°I failed.¡± His simplicity disarmed her more than she cared to admit. Evelyn sighed, running a hand through her hair. ¡°All right, big guy. You remember anything useful? Anything at all?¡± He paused, the ticking of internal gears filling the space between them. ¡°I recall the locket,¡± he said finally, his glowing eyes focusing on her pocket. ¡°Alaric held it shortly before his demise. It bears a sigil of protection... or confinement.¡± "Would explain why I could not open the damn thing," Evelyn exclaimed in annoyance. She reached for the battered cigarette case. Her hand brushed the spot where the metal bird nested inside her coat pocket. She turned to Gregor, whose towering had not moved from its spot. ¡°The bird,¡± she said abruptly. ¡°Did you put it there? On the locket?¡± She asked whilst pulling it out to show him. The soft hum of Gregor¡¯s crystal core filled the pause before he answered. ¡°Affirmative. Its placement ensured the artifact would not go unnoticed.¡± he said, reaching out to take it from her. Then stepping back to his original spot, placing the bird to nest on his shoulder. ¡°So you thought I¡¯d find it and just... put the pieces together myself? You couldn¡¯t have mentioned it last night?¡± Gregor¡¯s eyes shifted from azure to emerald, his version of hesitation. ¡°The situation was... complex. My calculations indicated a higher probability of your discovery leading to actionable outcomes.¡± She snorted, more incredulous than angry. ¡°Next time, skip the probabilities and just tell me. I don¡¯t need scavenger hunts.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± His tone held no apology, just a factual acknowledgment. Evelyn sighed and stepped closer, tilting her head back to meet Gregor¡¯s gaze. ¡°I need to see your logs. Permission to access?¡± Gregor straightened, the faint creak of brass and wood breaking the workshop¡¯s quiet. ¡°Granted. Be advised, my recent memories may be incomplete.¡± ¡°Yeah, I figured,¡± she muttered. She placed a hand on his chest. Black shadows seeped from every nook and cranny, from the tiny scratches or dents in his chest plate, pooling around the palm of her hand. The air between them shifted, growing dense and charged as her magic met his. After a short moment her hand started to sink into his chest plate. The first sensation hit her like a heartbeat¡ªsteady, mechanical, foreign. She focused, letting the shadows guide her deeper, brushing against the crystalline core embedded in Gregor¡¯s chest. It wasn¡¯t like reading a book or hearing a story. This was tactile, raw, as if she were pressing her fingers against the grooves of a carved surface and trying to guess the design. Her breath hitched. There it was¡ªa void, a spot where all sensation fell away to nothing, a single dot of black in an ocean of blue. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she murmured. ¡°Something¡¯s missing. Feels like someone scooped out a chunk of you with a spoon.¡± ¡°An apt analogy,¡± Gregor replied. ¡°I suspect the removal pertains to my master¡¯s final project. Attempts to retrieve the data have proven unsuccessful.¡± Evelyn withdrew her shadows, stepping back to collect herself. ¡°Magic and mechanics,¡± she said aloud, the words sharper than she intended. ¡°Whoever did this knew what they were doing. It¡¯s not just a hack job¡ªthey wanted to cover their tracks.¡± ¡°Affirmative. The level of expertise suggests a highly skilled individual, likely familiar with both my systems and Master Alaric¡¯s methodologies.¡± Her hand drifted to the locket again, her thumb tracing its cool, engraved surface. ¡°The locket, the missing data¡ªit¡¯s all tied to this project. Whatever Alaric was working on got him killed.¡± Gregor¡¯s gaze followed her movement. ¡°Do you require further assistance?¡± ¡°Not from you,¡± she said, a wry edge creeping into her voice. ¡°You¡¯re a seven-foot tin can with the personality of a court stenographer. This part¡¯s on me.¡± His eyes flickered briefly, the closest thing to amusement she¡¯d seen from him. ¡°Acknowledged.¡± She turned away, scanning the workshop one last time. The sun had shifted, and the light now fell on a nearby workbench, catching on the edge of a shattered vial. Evelyn tugged her coat tighter around her shoulders, lit her cigarette, and made for the door. She¡¯d gotten what she needed¡ªfor now! Chapter 6: The Oceans Glow ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± Isabella said, her voice soft but tethered with concern. She set her book down, marking the page with a finger, her brow faintly furrowed. Evelyn shut the door behind her with a dull click, the sound swallowed by the quiet hum of the apartment. She leaned back against the wood, letting it bear her weight as her shadowed green eyes landed on Isabella. ¡°Case doesn¡¯t exactly clock out,¡± Evelyn replied, words clipped, as if she were trying to push them past the ache settling in her bones. Her lips twitched into something that might¡¯ve been a smirk if it weren¡¯t so weighed down. Isabella rose, her movements fluid, as if choreographed by her nature. Her emerald eyes roamed over Evelyn, absorbing every detail: the rumpled clothes, the faint tremor in her hands. She could read the strain as plainly as ink on paper. ¡°You haven¡¯t slept.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. ¡°Not a wink,¡± Evelyn admitted, peeling off her coat and tossing it onto the back of a chair. She fished her cigarette case from its pocket, her fingers deft despite their weariness. But she stilled under Isabella¡¯s gaze, sharp and unyielding, even in its warmth. ¡°No smoking inside,¡± Isabella said. Her tone carried the same gentle firmness as a tide that knows it will wear down the shore. ¡°You know, for a marine biologist, you¡¯re awfully particular about air quality,¡± Evelyn quipped, her dry humor intact despite her weariness. She pushed off the door and made her way to the couch, collapsing into it with a sigh that felt like it came from her very bones. Isabella perched beside her, close enough for comfort but not smothering. ¡°Anything new?¡± she asked, her voice quieter now, as if softer tones could coax the tension from Evelyn¡¯s shoulders. Evelyn reached over and fished a battered notebook from her jacket, the leather creaking as she flipped it open to a mess of rough sketches and scrawled notes. ¡°Enchanted locket,¡± she said, tapping a page with the back of a fingernail. ¡°Locked tight. Thought about smashing it, but that¡¯d be like solving a puzzle with a sledgehammer¡ªdoesn¡¯t get you answers, just a mess.¡± ¡°Smart call,¡± Isabella murmured, her eyes catching on Evelyn¡¯s hands, the way they hovered over the notebook like the thing might vanish if she touched it wrong. ¡°Spoke to an elf called Elara¡ªshe''s worried about the sigil I found,¡± Evelyn admitted, flipping a few pages over to show the sketch she had drawn. ¡°Said it¡¯s old magic. Dangerous.¡± "Then when I went back to Alaric''s workshop," she continued. "Ran into the golem, Gregor, that I saw in the newspaper article." ¡°Elara and Gregor?¡± Isabella repeated, frowning. ¡°Who are they?¡± ¡°First one''s a sorceress who knows more than she¡¯s letting on. And Gregor? He''s built like a steel-plated cathedral. He¡¯s harmless, by the way, before you ask. Just a pile of gears and good manners. They¡¯re tied up in this mess somehow. Haven¡¯t figured out how deep yet.¡± Isabella¡¯s brow tightened, a faint shadow crossing her usually bright expression. ¡°And you¡¯re trusting them?¡± Evelyn¡¯s reply was sharp, but steady. ¡°I don¡¯t trust anyone in this business. You play nice just long enough to get what you need.¡± Isabella shifted closer, the faint brush of her arm against Evelyn¡¯s carrying a weight she didn¡¯t put to words. Her voice dropped, edged with concern. ¡°Evelyn, you¡¯re diving headfirst into something dark, and I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m worried. Really worried.¡± Evelyn¡¯s hand paused on her notebook, her green eyes meeting Isabella¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯m careful,¡± she said, voice firm but not unkind. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing.¡± ¡°Are you?¡± Isabella¡¯s voice softened, but the worry beneath it sharpened the edges of her words. ¡°When you¡¯re out all night, chasing shadows¡ªliterally¡ªand talking to people who¡¯d think twice about hurting you? Or worse, wouldn¡¯t think at all?¡± A dry laugh escaped Evelyn¡¯s lips, her fingers flicking the notebook shut with a crisp snap. She leaned back, folding one leg over the other as if to barricade herself from the conversation¡¯s weight. ¡°You make it sound like I¡¯m charging into burning buildings,¡± she said, an eyebrow arching in faint amusement, though her gaze didn¡¯t waver from Isabella¡¯s. ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡± Isabella said quietly, leaning closer. Her hand rested lightly on Evelyn¡¯s arm, grounding her. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to stop. I know better than that. Just¡­ let me help. Tell me what''s going on in your mind.¡± For a moment, Evelyn hesitated. Her instincts told her to keep the locket and its implications close to the chest, but Isabella¡¯s steady gaze cut through her resolve. She pulled the chair closer with a boot and reached into one pocket, careful not to move the arm Isabella was holding. Sliding the locket from her jacket''s pocket and lifting it up for the both of them to see, the warm golden yellow light glinting off its silver surface. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re working with,¡± Evelyn said, her tone as dry as the stale air in the room. ¡°Locked up tighter than a bank vault. But it¡¯s heavy¡ªfeels like there¡¯s more in there than cheap trinkets. Gregor¡¯s convinced it¡¯s tied to Alaric¡¯s research, the same work that got him killed.¡± Isabella leaned her head against Evelyn¡¯s shoulder, her chestnut waves brushing against Evelyn''s neck and bank. Her gaze stayed fixed on the intricate magic sigil carved into the surface of the object, her brow furrowed like she was trying to puzzle it open with sheer will. ¡°And you can¡¯t open it at all?¡± she asked, her voice quiet, not an echo of Evelyn¡¯s earlier words but a genuine thread of curiosity, spun soft and thoughtful. "Not for lack of effort," Evelyn muttered, her voice clipped, the frustration still fresh. ¡°Tools, spells, cursing at it under my breath¡ªnothing.¡± Isabella¡¯s lips tightened, her usual warmth replaced by a quiet determination. "And Elara? What did she say about it?" Evelyn¡¯s jaw set, her tone sharpening. "Found them the other way around," she corrected. The memory of her oversight bristled like a splinter under her skin. If she¡¯d uncovered it the night of the murder, it might¡¯ve been enough to lay it bare in front of Elara. Instead, she¡¯d been left scrambling after the fact, piecing together what should¡¯ve been obvious. Isabella¡¯s fingers drifted over the locket, her touch deliberate, as though testing the texture of a memory. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± she said softly, her voice dipping into a reverent murmur, the kind she used when talking about coral reefs or rare sea life. "Feels like it¡¯s laughing at me."This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Isabella¡¯s brow knitted, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. The silence between them hung taut, broken only by the faint clink of the locket¡¯s chain brushing against her fingers. ¡°But it¡¯s... strange,¡± she said finally, her tone carrying a hesitant curiosity. She tilted her head, studying the locket as though it might whisper its secrets to her. ¡°There¡¯s a weight to it, like it¡¯s alive. Almost like a heartbeat.¡± Evelyn¡¯s sharp green eyes lingered on the locket, shadows pooling in her expression. She said nothing, but her posture stiffened, as if the locket¡¯s imaginary pulse might sync too closely with something buried in her chest. ¡°That¡¯s not comforting,¡± Evelyn quipped, but her lips curled into the faintest smirk. She set the locket on the wire table next to them, rubbing the back of her neck. The loft¡¯s warm glow wrapped around them, softening the edges of her exhaustion. ¡°And it¡¯s not the only thing that¡¯s strange.¡± Isabella shifted, tucking her legs tighter beneath her, settling fully onto the couch. She leaned into Evelyn, her warmth anchoring the moment. ¡°Go on,¡± she said, her voice soft but with an edge that left no room for retreat. Evelyn exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, tracing the uneven patterns in the plaster like they held the words she needed. ¡°When I found him¡ªAlaric¡ªhe was clutching a flask.¡± Her voice tightened, a thread of steel winding through it. ¡°It had a residue, Alaric''s apprentice recognized it as Sablebane.¡± Isabella tilted her head against Evelyn¡¯s shoulder, her brow pulling into a knot. ¡°Sablebane?¡± she echoed, her voice carrying a note of restrained disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± She hesitated, lips pursing before continuing. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it. Marine labs get whispers about it sometimes through the trade grapevine. It¡¯s black-market stuff, Evelyn. Dangerous enough that it makes your skin crawl just thinking about it.¡± She shifted, her legs tucked tighter under her as though the mere mention of the substance made her want to retreat. ¡°Do you know the hoops we have to jump through at the lab just to get a fraction of a drop? And that¡¯s for legitimate research! And don''t get me started¡ª¡± A genuine smile started to grow on Evelyn''s lips, as she sat there letting Isabella vent and rant about her work. Happy just to listen, as she tilted her head to rest against Isabella''s. ¡°The paperwork alone is a nightmare because, well, it _is_ deadly. Almost untraceable, too. What the hell was he doing with it?¡± ¡°Your guess is as good as mine,¡± Evelyn admitted, her voice low. Her fingers tapped a restless rhythm on her thigh. ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell if he¡¯d been trying to hide it or drink it. Either way, it didn¡¯t end well for him.¡± Isabella¡¯s hand covered Evelyn¡¯s, stilling the motion. ¡°You think someone gave it to him?¡± she asked. There was a tightness in her voice now, a crack in her usual optimism. ¡°Or he got it himself. Either way, it¡¯s tied to this.¡± Evelyn gestured toward the locket with her free hand. ¡°And maybe to the sigil etched into his lab¡¯s wall. It¡¯s like some bad pulp novel¡ªesoteric symbols, mysterious poison, and a dead alchemist in the middle of it all.¡± Isabella shook her head slightly, her curls slipping over Evelyn''s shoulder. ¡°No, it¡¯s worse than a pulp novel. It¡¯s real.¡± She reached out to the locket, her fingers brushing its cold surface. ¡°Have you tried¡­ I don¡¯t know, shadow stuff on it?¡± Evelyn¡¯s smirk returned, sharper this time. ¡°Shadow stuff?¡± ¡°You know what I mean,¡± Isabella said, her voice lighter now, almost teasing. She gave Evelyn a playful nudge with her shoulder. ¡°That thing you do. Moving in and out of the shadows. Can you¡­ feel anything when you do?¡± ¡°Haven¡¯t tried,¡± Evelyn admitted. ¡°Not sure I want to, honestly. Feels like whatever¡¯s in there doesn¡¯t want me poking around.¡± ¡°But you will.¡± Isabella¡¯s words weren¡¯t a question; they carried the quiet certainty of someone who knew Evelyn better than she let on. Her fingers squeezed Evelyn¡¯s hand briefly before letting go. ¡°You always do.¡± Evelyn turned her head to look at her, their eyes meeting in the golden light. There was no need for words in that moment. Isabella¡¯s steady presence, her warmth, was an anchor Evelyn hadn¡¯t realized she needed until she had it. ¡°I will,¡± Evelyn said finally, her voice softer. Then she leaned forward, grabbing the locket and holding it up again. ¡°But not tonight. Tonight, I¡¯m off the clock.¡± Isabella¡¯s smile softened into something that caught the light, warm and unhurried. ¡°Good. Because I¡¯m not letting you out of my sight until you¡¯ve had a proper meal and at least six hours of sleep.¡± Her voice carried a gentle certainty, the kind Evelyn couldn¡¯t argue with even if she wanted to. ¡°Bossy,¡± Evelyn murmured, the word slipping out without its usual edge. Her fingers grazed the locket for a moment longer, the metal cool against her touch, before she set it back on the coffee table with a quiet clink. The gesture felt heavier than it should¡¯ve, as though letting it go was an act of will. She shifted, wrapping an arm around Isabella, her grip instinctive but steady, drawing her closer. Isabella tucked herself into the curve of Evelyn¡¯s body like she belonged there, her legs tucked neatly under her. The room held its quiet, the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen the only sound that dared interrupt. ¡°You¡¯re avoiding dinner,¡± Isabella said softly, her voice teasing but gentle, like the tide kissing the shore. Evelyn¡¯s lips curved faintly against the warmth of Isabella¡¯s neck. ¡°Avoiding? No, I¡¯m prioritizing. Dinner can wait. This? This¡­ would be a waste to cut short.¡± Her breath was warm against Isabella¡¯s skin, her words threaded with that familiar dry humor that always managed to hide just enough of her vulnerability. Isabella chuckled, the sound low and throaty, as her fingers trailed idly along Evelyn¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re just hoping I¡¯ll forget about it entirely.¡± Evelyn tilted her head slightly, just enough to brush her lips along Isabella¡¯s collarbone. ¡°Caught me,¡± she murmured, her voice carrying that mix of nonchalance and intimacy that could make even the mundane feel charged. ¡°But you¡¯re not exactly fighting me off.¡± Isabella¡¯s fingers stilled against her shoulder, and Evelyn felt the way her chest rose and fell, a quiet laugh shaking through her. ¡°Why would I? You¡¯re warm, and I¡¯m tired of pretending this couch isn¡¯t too small for two people.¡± Evelyn shifted slightly, pulling Isabella closer until their bodies fit together more snugly. ¡°It¡¯s not the couch,¡± she said, voice low and almost a rumble. ¡°You just like excuses to get me closer.¡± Isabella¡¯s laugh was brighter this time, spilling into the cozy quiet of the studio. ¡°If you knew how ridiculous you sound.¡± ¡°Not ridiculous if it¡¯s true,¡± Evelyn countered. She tilted her head to catch Isabella¡¯s eyes, the green in them gleaming faintly in the warm light streaming through the loft¡¯s curtains. There was a pause, a heartbeat where the room seemed to hold its breath, the salt-kissed air between them thick and still. Then Isabella¡¯s lips found hers. The kiss was unhurried at first, more exploration than urgency, as if both women were testing how much of the day¡¯s exhaustion they could melt away with touch alone. Isabella¡¯s hand slid up to cradle the back of Evelyn¡¯s neck, fingers threading gently through the loose strands of dark hair. Evelyn¡¯s arms tightened around her, a subtle pull that spoke volumes without words. When Isabella broke the kiss to breathe, her lips hovered just shy of Evelyn¡¯s. ¡°You¡¯re impossible, you know that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s one of my better qualities,¡± Evelyn replied, her voice softer now, a rough edge smoothed by affection. This time Evelyn dipped her head, brushing a kiss along Isabella¡¯s jawline, then lower, grazing the curve where her neck met her shoulder. Isabella¡¯s breath hitched, her hand tightening briefly at the nape of Evelyn¡¯s neck before she let out a shaky laugh. ¡°And persistent. Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t see what you¡¯re doing.¡± ¡°What I¡¯m doing?¡± Evelyn murmured against her skin, her voice rich with mock innocence. She kissed her way back up, slow and deliberate, lingering at the corner of Isabella¡¯s mouth. ¡°I¡¯m just making the most of the moment. Isn¡¯t that what you¡¯re always telling me? To savor things?¡± Isabella¡¯s response came in the form of another kiss, this one deeper, more insistent. The earlier teasing faded, replaced by a quiet intensity that filled the room. Evelyn matched her pace, the world outside the studio slipping further and further away as the two melted into each other, lost in the soft rhythm of lips and breath and the warmth that pressed between them. When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathing a little heavier, Isabella let her head rest against Evelyn¡¯s shoulder. The weight of her felt grounding, steadying. ¡°You¡¯re going to need dinner eventually,¡± Isabella murmured, her voice quieter now, touched with a note of surrender. Evelyn smirked, resting her chin lightly atop Isabella¡¯s head. ¡°Eventually. But not now.¡± She pressed a kiss into her hair, savoring the way Isabella¡¯s scent¡ªsea salt and something faintly floral¡ªmingled with the air. Isabella let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing fully into Evelyn¡¯s hold. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t think this gets you out of washing the dishes later.¡± Evelyn chuckled, the sound low and warm. ¡°Deal.¡±