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𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The Council’s underground labs breathed with quiet power, walls dark black marble covered by glass and floors a dark gray stone with rugs scattered about. The hum of magical machines and clockwork trinkets seemed to echo forever in the stone ribs of the vaulted ceilings. Most of Voxthain never saw this place—didn’t know it even existed—but Fallon had always thought it felt like standing in the belly of some great beast, everything alive with potential energy. And he was nothing if not one to rush into the said belly of a great beast.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A cold blue light washed over his features as he leaned toward the first specimen case, where thin drops of blood hovered in suspension, caught in the preservation field like insects in amber. The fragments pulsed faintly with residual energy, as though the magic threaded through them hadn’t fully surrendered to death, trying to weave itself back together. Some particles gleamed brighter than others—tiny, jewel-like shards of crimson against the sterile glow, each one held apart so they could be studied from every angle.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon tapped the edge of the glass with the tip of his pen, the sound soft but insistent, then angled his head toward Casmir. “Lean in. Look at it.” His voice cut through the stillness, sharp with conviction. He gestured toward the faint shimmer where one cluster of suspended droplets seemed to throb unnaturally, their edges forming an almost perfect ridge of crystallization.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“The decay curve doesn’t match a spontaneous release,” Fallon stated, hazel eyes narrowed as he traced the formation in the air above the glass, following the uneven circle like a field soldier outlining a crime scene. “See this ridge? Right here?” The blood’s edges caught the light, glinting like fractured ruby. “It’s too clean. A natural dissipation would scatter, Casmir, leave jagged fractures, random degradation. But this—” Fallon’s voice dropped, steady, certain. “Why does this look more as if the goal was to siphon and death was just a side effect?”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The pen rolled between his fingers as his hazel eyes flicked toward Casmir. He wasn’t asking for agreement, not really, as Fallon rarely asked for such things. But the silent weight of his stare said he wanted it all the same. He straightened, pushing back from the table with restless energy, hands already moving to scribble calculations on the paper sprawled between half-dismantled conduits and abandoned coffee cups.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His jaw tightened, and he pressed the pen hard enough against the page to nearly snap its nib. “If I—or you—chart its mechanics and figure out how magic could have . . . taken magic . . . ?” Fallon stopped, pacing a short line before swinging back to Casmir, words spilling quicker than his thoughts could tidy them. For a long beat he held Casmir’s gaze, seeking that quiet flicker of understanding, of validation. It wasn’t just discovery he craved—it was recognition. Not the whispers of the elite who doubted him, not the murmurs of militia who thought science was too slow to matter, but the undeniable proof that he, Fallon, could do what no one else dared.
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⠀ CASMIR ⠀
The lab was Casmir’s home more than Asterath ever was. He had a cot in the corner poorly concealed behind a curtain and several changes of clothes were tucked in a drawer meant for lab equipment. His lab mates hadn’t mentioned the setup to Casmir, but he knew that they were aware that he spent more nights than not in their shared space. It wasn’t like Casmir had to stay there. He had an apartment only a few blocks away courtesy of the Council, but it was filled with cobwebs and dust. In recent weeks, it had gotten increasingly hard for Casmir to make the walk from the basement-level lab to his third floor apartment. His body was deteriorating at such a rapid pace that he needed the additional time in the night to work on a fix for his condition. No, the lab was where he belonged.
It had been especially busy in the lab in recent days with the shadowfog steadily approaching and the Militia hounding them to figure out the magic draining in their new murder investigation. Casmir knew his team was capable enough to solve both problems, but the Council and Militia needed to back off and give them the space they needed to work. If he was stuck upstairs in meeting after dull meeting, they would never get anything done.
The tap of Fallon’s pen against the glass that held their sample pulled Casmir from his thoughts. His mind was hazy with sleeplessness and pain, but still sharp enough for what the city needed. He watched the beads of blood pulse weakly with the last remnants of magic that the assailants hadn’t been able to pull from the victim. Fallon spoke and Casmir let him work through his process, humming replies in the pauses. He agreed that the blood was not behaving like any other sample they had studied from a deceased host. Magic left the body over time, dissipating as a person’s lifeforce drifted away with their consciousness, so any other sample of this age would have threads of magic pulsing with a steady rhythm even as it dissipated into the ether. But this? This was unnatural, wrong. The threads of magic had snapped, as if it had all been sucked away in one fell action.
That was enough of that. It unnerved Casmir to look at the blood for too long. He returned his gaze to the mechanism he was tinkering with, still listening to Fallon’s thought process. The piece before him was a prototype he was working on for the shadowfog situation—a canister to potentially suck up some of the shadowfog for him to study more closely in the lab. A gear on the release valve was stuck, and he pulled at it with tweezers while Fallon paced beside him.
If Fallon was movement and restless energy, Casmir was preternaturally still. He was quiet where Fallon was loud, contemplative where he was reactive. He had known Fallon long enough to trust his process of thinking out loud, only choosing to speak up when he thought his input was truly necessary. There was something in Fallon’s comment about magic draining magic that caught Casmir’s interest. Why did it have to be magic? They were scientists, engineers, men of metal and chemicals. They didn’t rely solely on magic to solve their problems.
“Why do you fall to the assumption that magic did this? You and I both know the power of machines. If magic exists within the body like any other lifeforce—blood, water, breath—then who is to say it could not be removed by force by a machine?” Casmir’s words were blunt and questioning, a tone that sounded harsh and unforgiving to those who did not know him, but Fallon would understand that he was not arguing, just pushing them towards the truth.
If anyone were to know the true power of machines, it was the two of them. Casmir had augmented much of his body with metal—a brace screwed into his spine to keep him from collapsing in on himself, screws in his elbows and knees allowing him to move more freely, bars down the sides of his legs to support his weight. He was only able to stand and work as freely as he did because of his modifications. Who was to say that someone else couldn’t have figured out how to drain magic the same way?
“I think we are the sharpest minds in the sister cities, but there could be someone hiding away somewhere acting in malice.”
𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓸𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓽𝓱 𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝔂
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Teddy had never felt like he belonged anywhere the way he did down here. Or, at all, really. He had simply never fit in. Not in his family, not in noble society, not in Cogworks. He had spent so much of his teen years stressing over what to do with his life. He had never had any interest in journalism, just one of the many ways he disappointed Father. The thought of being a Councilor had never appealed to him. And for some reason, actually pursuing a career in science hadn’t even occurred to him, until one of his teachers had suggested it. And suddenly, everything had made sense. Father didn’t approve of course, he didn’t consider it a “Seavey career”, or something like that. But could he really expect all of his sons to do the same thing? Surely, two out of three wasn’t so bad. And this - this was undeniably where Teddy belonged. He was still just an intern, but he was also still in school, and that would change. Besides, he didn’t feel like anyone was looking down on him which was honestly still such a new feeling. And he was in his element in the science lab, working on projects, especially when it came to working on inventions.
Here, he was recognized for what he was good at, and not all the things he wasn’t. No one was concerned with whether he was a good speaker or writer, and talking about science was so much easier than anything. No one was criticizing his clothing choices, or telling him he was too weak or quiet. And honestly? It made it so much easier to just… breathe. He was actually happy here. And he hadn’t even realized how unhappy he was before.
He headed up out of the Lab. He was supposed to meet the militia hacker, and bring her down. The sound of Fallon’s and Casmir’s voices faded behind him, as he climbed the stairs. This whole thing was disturbing. Not only was there a murderer on the loose, but the fact that the bodies were drained of magic? That was odd. He didn’t like it.
But right now, he had to worry about greeting the militia hacker. What was he going to say? He paused about halfway up the staircase, chewing on his lip. Hello. Hello was a good greeting for this situation right? Or would good evening be better? Good evening? Hello? Good evening. Hello. Or maybe just hi would be better? But wasn’t that too informal? And was he supposed to introduce himself? He should, right? Hi, I’m - Wait, how was he even going to introduce himself? Teddy? Or Theodore? And what would she think about his being a Seavey? Being a Seavey could be an issue. Hello. I’m Teddy. This way. Too simple? Did he need to say more? Or was he supposed to say less? He made himself continue up the stairs. Maybe he didn’t need to introduce himself? It was probably better to do it.Hello. This way. That wasn’t enough, was it? Okay, so he should introduce himself. Or… Hello. I’m Teddy. This way.” With a pause to let her return the greeting, and introduce herself too. ”Hello, I’m Teddy.” Pause. “This way.” That was good, right? Well, he was nearing the top of the stairs, he didn’t really have time to change it.
He reached the top, and waited a moment for her to show, then managed to get through the greetings. “Hello, I’m Teddy.” He gave her a moment to respond before turning back toward the stairs. “This way.” he led her down into the lab.
