I snatched the cup from Viera’s grip the second her mouth parted from the edge. Effortless, nonchalant—as if the whole thing was a mirage. Once the brew left her fingers, the world clicked into place again.
“Huh, Jade?”
“Oops, my bad. Pretty sure that’s Belle’s mug—she tends to concoct her own peculiar brew.” I kept my voice airy, brushing it off. No reason to stir her suspicion.
“Ohhh,” Viera humd, tracing her tongue over her lips. “Makes sense with that dirt-kissed aftertaste. Tasty, though. Positive I can’t keep sipping?”
“Then Belle would have to whip up a fresh batch. Best stick to your own steep,” I said, sliding her the backup cup and returning the first to Belle. She accepted it without a blink, drinking with serene satisfaction.
It wasn’t dangerous—not to Belle, at least. Her dinsional resonance was stable; nothing about the blend would affect her. And if she was into that aggressively organic flavor? Well, her enthusiastic gulps said it all.
The tea ritual dissolved shortly after, and I waved Viera off. Heh. Sothing reeked of wrongness. But now, my hunches had crystallized. Whether Sasha herself or her alleged puppetmaster was tugging the threads, soone was exploiting her—straight-up or through proxies—for parda tempering. No doubt.
I dropped into a chair, snatching up pen and parchnt. Scribbling sorted out. ntal chaos streamlined into ink, each sentence sanding rough edges.
Dinsional resonance—it was the focus of my research. A well-known spatial mana principle, born from the fusion of light and dark mana. But even on their own, those elents carried spatial properties.
I only had dark mana, and that was the backbone of my dinsional lamina. It fed off my dark mana to destabilize my resonance, syncing it to the Shadow Dinsion. Let step through at will.
There was a reason I checked Viera’s dinsional resonance. When it destabilizes, it leaves people vulnerable—open to subtle tempering. My research on intangible entities, ghosts, wraiths, and how they latch onto this plane had all led to the sa conclusion. The process wasn’t flashy. It started small—ntal suggestions, siphoning energy, eroding autonomy bit by bit. That’s how wraiths do it.
They weaken soone’s resonance. Infect it with their dark mana. Siphon just enough life force that, over ti, the resonance itself becos a tether. And once that breakpoint is reached? The connection stabilizes, linking the shadow dinsion to the physical one. At that point, the wraith doesn’t need to shift its resonance anymore—it has a vessel. A body, nurtured just for it.
They didn’t just cross over. They rooted. That’s what made them dangerous.
But this? This wasn’t a wraith. Wasn’t anything from the Shadow Dinsion. That, I knew in my bones. My senses were sharp enough to catch even the faintest ripple from that plane. And whatever had its hooks in Viera wasn’t laced with dark mana. That alone ruled out any shadow-dwelling parasite. No, whatever was warping her resonance—it was sothing else entirely. Undefined, but absolutely grade-A fuckery.
This rot worked quieter. Precise. So bastard had woven filants through Viera’s resonance—not to hijack, but to… remodel. Like splicing a leech into a tree’s vascular network.
My pages sneered at , a constellation of maybes without a nucleus. Switch gears.
I needed an optimal strategy to investigate. First things first, though. I called out.
“Alice, can we divine Viera’s imdiate safety?”
The doll’s blindfolded gaze shifted toward .
I could’ve asked outright, Is her life in danger? But that was too broad, too murky. What if the divination reached too far ahead? I needed clarity, not riddles. Divination was a fickle tool—ask too broadly, and you’d drown in possibilities.
Just a simple answer about the present—just enough to stall the clock, let triage this ss.
Before the inevitable shitstorm at this godsforsaken ball.
Once again, Alice pulled out the blue mana crystal, its thin thread wrapped tightly around her fingers. She’d been carrying that thing ever since our first divination with it. So we were rerunning the yes/no mana-rock roulette? This thod deserved a less clunky title.
“What’s this type of divination called, anyway?” I asked, scribbling down the question: IS VIERA SAFE AT THIS EXACT MONT?
The gilt threads of Alice’s blindfold flickered like faulty wiring as she “sanitized” the space—again. Once finished, she turned to with a tilt of her head. “H-huh, mistress? I thought you already knew.”
“Oh, don’t be daft. You know damn well I don’t know manaroe shit when it cos to divination. I swear, this pathway is the most secretive, gatekept nonsense in all of magic.”
Alice tapped her chin, then nodded. “It’s called Aetheric Pendulum Divination, mistress.”
I handed her the paper, and she dangled the ‘pendulum’ above it, her movents practiced, precise.
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I was still curious. Would Alice actually explain how it worked? I tossed the question her way, half-expecting a vague answer—or worse, another cryptic non-explanation. But, to my surprise, she actually indulged .
“It hinges on resonant attunent,” she intoned. “The stone mirrors the subject’s live-frequency imprint. Dextral rotation signals synchronicity—‘affirmative.’ Sinistral spin denotes discord—‘negation.’ Should it… vibrate midair, rejecting motion? Uncertainty manifests as inertial defiance.”
Fascinating. I leaned closer as her blindfold dissolved, doll-eyes replaced by twin event horizons. The crystal pirouetted—hesitant, then committed. Clockwise.
“So, she’s safe. Temporarily.”
“‘Temporarily’ anchors the result, mistress,” Alice anded. “The pendulum captures present-tense reverberations. A specter in sixty minutes? A dagger at dusk tomorrow? Statistically null. Your query was chrono-locked. The answer is… hertically sealed.”
That was enough. At the very least, her unstable resonance wasn’t an imdiate threat.
I let out a slow breath, glancing out the window. Evening was creeping in, and winter nights stretched longer than they should. The sun would set soon, and I’d be sneaking out again.
This ti, Belle was coming with .
I needed to finish the ritual and bestow whatever power it would grant my precious badger. Then, I had to et Whisper, finish investigating that rakari boy’s missing employer to earn her trust, and finally share what I’d learned about that strange drakkari—the one I suspected was that outlaw elf.
And then there were the kids I saved from those sewer-dwelling elven cultists. The ongoing mystery of that elf. And now this looming disaster on Viera’s birthday.
…huh?
Weren’t “lay low” and “stealth mode” on my fucking bingo card?
Since when did my life beco a revolving door of apocalyptic errands?!
I collapsed backward, thumb and forefinger vise-gripping my nose.
“Alice,” I moaned, “am I a chaos magnet?”
The doll angled her head, expressionless as ever. “Mistress… magnets draw. You appear to… emit.”
Point fucking taken.
***
Sneaking out was routine by now, but since Belle couldn’t follow my usual route, she had to take the more… conventional way out. Fortunately, being small and the night being dark worked in her favor. She slipped into one of the tily potion carts that always rolled in and out around this hour, vanishing among the crates without a hitch.
We regrouped outside, where I shifted back into my drakkari form, quickly pulling my clothes on before securing Belle against my back with fabric straps and donning on my cloak. First stop: Lysska.
Ti to go.
Before long, I stood once again in front of Lily’s Charms and Curios—Whisper’s office. A few crows loitered on the nearby rooftops, their beady eyes tracking my every move. So she was watching. But sothing was off.
The shop was empty.
I frowned. What the hell? Whisper herself had told to et her tonight—was I early?
Before I could dwell on it, my Air Sense tingled. A small figure had just materialized at the very edge of my perception, moving deliberately, stealthily toward . I sharpened my focus, tuning in with my ears, tail, and instincts. I still couldn’t see her—so invisibility trick, maybe an illusion spell—but that hardly mattered. Useless against .
She crept closer, reaching toward where I stood in the open doorway. I called out before she could try anything.
“Where’s Whisper, Quickpaw?”
Imdiately, she flickered into view, red robe and all, pouting like a scolded kitten.
“Could’ve feigned surprise! You and Whisper—sa spoilsport vibe. One day I’ll crack your detection trick and haunt you both into early graves!”
Sa song, hundredth verse. But I wasn’t in the mood to humor her antics. I needed to talk to Whisper.
“Question still stands.”
“Well…” Quickpaw rocked on her heels, ears twitching. “She got caught up with sothing. Sothing unexpected.”
That had my ears perking. “Like what?”
“You’d have to ask her yourself. She was real cagey about it, didn’t tell much. Just told to wait here and keep investigating. Said to follow your orders, which is weird, by the way! I’m supposed to be your senior in this gang! —taking orders from a maybe-recruit? Humiliating!”
“Still a maybe.”
“Inevitable maybe!”
“Doubt it.”
“Ugh! Play along! Let boss you once!”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
By Thalador’s beard, did her energy ever deplete?
I really should have perford Belle’s ritual first. Whisper wasn’t even here—this whole trip was a waste of ti. But instead, I was stuck with Quickpaw, aning I’d have to wait to get the information I needed and wait to deliver what I had.
Not ideal.
And I definitely wasn’t about to open up to soone like her. Quickpaw reminded of that girl Sasha—except more dangerous.
We stepped inside the office, where Quickpaw imdiately offered a drink. I waved her off. Not in the mood. There was work to do.
“So, what’s the first step?”
Quickpaw flopped onto the sofa like a hyperactive housecat, grinning. “You tell , boss?”
Boss. The word curdled in my gut. But orders were orders. Whisper had left in charge, which ant this was a test—one I wasn’t about to fail. Since we were looking for a missing detective, the best place to start was obvious.
I crossed my arms. “Drop the ‘boss’ schtick. You’re older than my bootlaces.”
“Aw, but hierarchy’s fun.” She fake-pouted. “Fine. What’s phase one, craven?”
“Better.” I ignored the jab. “We hunt where the ink’s still damp. You know his nest?”
“Do ravens feast?” she shot back, twirling a lock of hair around a claw.
“Ravens also caw. Loudly.” I leaned in. “Can you manage stealth, or should I muzzle you?”
Her grin widened. “Try it. I bite.”
Hah. This girl. “We start there. Look for clues.” And maybe, if I learned enough, I could send her away for a subtle divination from Alice.
“Sure! I’d lead the way, detective!”
“But first,” she added, springing up, “lose the mask.”
I stiffened. “Why?”
She whipped out a brass badge, polished to a smug gleam. “Licensed investigators don’t skulk. Masks scream shady—we’re respectable crooks.”
Ah. Right. The gang’s double-life legitimacy. I reluctantly peeled off the disguise, my pale face bared to the lamplight.
Quickpaw mirrored , pulling back her crimson hood to reveal a face all sharp grins and sharper eyes. “See? Now we’re just… professionally suspicious.”
And with that, we set out.
Quickpaw led through the lower district, but not quite toward the upper. Instead, we followed a twisting path through streets that almost felt respectable—cleaner stone, sturdier buildings, fewer alleys filled with rotting wood and waste. Still a far cry from the middle district’s polished grandeur, but an undeniable step up from where we’d just been.
Snow had begun to fall, drifting lazily through the dim glow of lanterns. I liked the snow—soothing, in a way.
We stopped in front of a two-story building.
“This it?” I whispered. “I thought you said this place was empty.”
Quickpaw nodded. “Correctamundo! Cozy crypt, zero tenants!”
But I didn’t move. My eyes twitched as I sensed.
My frown deepened.
“Then why the hell do I detect, like, five people inside?”
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