The feral is dead. So is Aram.
Silence presses in, heavier than the shots we fired. Gary lowers his gun first, then glances at me.
"Search this room," Gary orders, pointing to the room where Aram had been.
We step inside and look around carefully.
I search the bed with careful precision.
"Gary, the black liquid?" I ask.
"Kuor," he replies, pausing. "Black kuor," he adds, continuing his search.
CLANK.
Metal spills out from a hidden compartment beneath the bed.
Gary turns. "Those are IAMs."
I pick one up, holding it close to my face, examining it as if the metal might reveal its secrets.
"What's the color of this, Gary?" I ask, holding it toward him.
"It's invisible. I don't know," he says, taking it. "Some say yellow. Others white."
Gary picks up a box nearby—white, adorned with childish fish patterns. He places the IAMs he can feel—though not see—into the box.
"Let's find his notes, or alchemical papers, before we leave," Gary says. He opens a cupboard, searching inside. Its door blocks his face from view.
I slip an IAM into my coat pocket, light and cold against my palm.
Gary retrieves papers from the cupboard, slipping them under the pocket of his coat with the same quiet precision.
He lifts the box of IAMs and tucks it under his arm.
It's done. Nothing more to do here.
We leave the house, stepping back into the neighborhood.
Few people gather around the house and murmur. I don't need to go near them but I can already guess what they're discussing.
We pay them no mind and keep walking. Leave the neighborhood, crossing the vaporgates. Engines ticking, people murmuring and the blinding smog greet us just as we step through the vaporgates.
We hire a carriage to take us back.
The ride is a steady, rhythmic vibration that masks the silence between us. Gary sits across from me, the white box with its childish fish patterns resting on his lap like a strange, holy relic. In my pocket, the IAM is a ghost; it has no presence, yet it presses against my thigh like absolute cold.
After a short ride.
We reach the Hearthlight building. The clarity of the elite district has faded, replaced by the familiar charcoal heaviness of the North. The smog clings to the stone walls, turning the building into a fortress of shadows.
"Go to the lounge, Len," Gary says without looking at me. His eyes are fixed on a side entrance. He disappears before I can respond.
I stand on the sidewalk for a moment, the soot-rattle of the city returning to my ears. I'm an initiate. I've killed a man who smiled at his own corruption. And it happens on my first day.
I push through the main doors. The lobby hums with a different energy than this morning.
Margaret greets me from the counter.
"Good Monday, Len."
"Good Monday, Margaret," I answer.
"Ready for your first assignment?" she asks.
First assignment?
"Sure," I say.
"In Hearthlight, we do our work with a smile." She beams, giving two thumbs up.
"Yay," I reply, mimicking her gesture.
"Come," she says, leading me to a man in the lobby.
Sunken eyes. Winter-grey hair. Sharp cheekbones casting deep shadows. A thick, salt-and-pepper walrus mustache. Waxy skin stretched over a skin-and-bone frame. A charcoal frock coat hangs loose over a high wing collar.
Margaret introduces us. "Len, this is Monsieur Andrei. He's our client."
I reach out. He takes my hand. We shake.
"Pleasure to meet you," I say.
"Andrei."
Margaret steps back. "Don't forget to smile."
I smile.
"So, what can I do for you?" I ask.
He shuffles, clearing his throat. "I… uh… have a problem."
I tilt my head. "Yes?"
He pauses, swallows. "It's—"
I wait, smiling. He stares. Margaret gives me a subtle look. I keep smiling.
Finally: "Hearthlight Order truly is a blessing. Solving problems all the time." His smile warms the space around him like sunlight.
"That's what we do," I answer, only with a smile.
He nods, glances around, then walks to the counter. "I'll go pay. Thanks for your service, young man."
And just like that, he's gone.
Andrei walks away smiling. I keep smiling until my cheeks ache.
I help more clients as Margaret instruct.
As the day is closing I see two figures walking toward the counter. Ashlynn and Tanya.
I approach them.
They see me. Ashlynn waves at me. Tany does the same.
"Lets return to the hotel," I say.
Ashlynn nods.
As we're about to leave—
"You have done splendid work today, Len," Margaret says. "I'm excited to work with you again tomorrow. Yes tomorrow and forever."
I don't say anything. I only smile and wave.
We leave Hearthlight building and head back to our hotel after dinner.
In our room, Ashlynn sits on her side of the bed. Relaxing herself.
I sit on a chair by the desk.
"So, how's your day, Ash?" I ask, starting a conversation.
"I spent some time with Tanya while you… were busy," Ashlynn says, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"She notices details—how lantern light falls, or how some streets are too quiet at night."
"She talks about her new fiancé, Xandar—how he would always treat her like a princess… nice, I guess, to hear her talk about it."
"And she listens. Really listens. Most people just wait to talk again, but she actually pays attention. It's… different. I liked that."
Ashlynn shrugs, laughing softly. "I think we could be friends. New friends, I mean. Friends in a city that doesn't make it easy."
She then proceeds to finish talking about the rest of her day.
"I want to bath, no peeking," She gets up, winks at me, then disappears into the bathroom.
I watch Ashlynn disappear into the bathroom, the door clicking shut like a promise neither of us fully believes.
I open my diary. I write what happens today.
I check the older page to find any writings about Hearthlight Order. Not much was written—except "The White Raven"
Soon after.
I pull the IAM out of my pocket. Light and cold.
Then I hold it closer to my face.
I look at it. It's gold.
I turn it around. Still gold.