(The Alchemy Spire - Advanced Synthesis Lab)
Rosalie was pacing a hole in the stone floor, her yellow dress rustling aggressively with every turn.
"This is insane! It's impossible!" she shouted, waving a crumpled copy of the Academy Gazette. "Silvie? A conspirator? She is a saviour! Thomas, why aren't you doing something?"
Thomas sat at his workbench, polishing a beaker. He wasn't just cleaning it; he was scrubbing it with a force that threatened to snap the glass. His face was a mask of cold stone, but inside, his mind was a chaotic storm of panic that he was desperately trying to shove into boxes.
'She's gone,' he thought, his grip tightening. 'Silvie is the shield. I am the supply line. Without the shield, the supply line is exposed. If they break her... they come for me next. This is a disaster.'
"Thomas!" Rosalie slammed her hands on his desk, shattering his focus.
