The carriage ride to the Pneumatic Exchange was a blur of grinding wheels and icy rain. Kaelen's knuckles were white, gripping the hilt of the small dagger Valerius had given her. It felt heavy, a last resort against an enemy she couldn't see but could feel crawling beneath her skin.
Don't fidget, darling, the Voice purred. It spoils the performance. You wouldn't want to miss my grand entrance, would you?
"Shut up," Kae muttered, her teeth clenched.
Valerius, shotgun across his lap, didn't react. He was already in battle mode, his eyes scanning the grimy streets, his posture rigid.
The Pneumatic Exchange loomed out of the swirling Dreg-fog like a colossal iron lung. It was a monstrous complex of pipes, vents, and towering smokestacks, all designed to filter the toxic Arcane Dreg from the Guilds' living quarters. At midnight, its massive, rhythmic pumps would cease, and the city would "un-breathe" for twenty minutes of maintenance, filling the air with a raw, unfiltered magical miasma.
"11:57 PM," Valerius announced, checking his watch as the carriage pulled up to a service entrance.
The area was deserted. No guards. No workers. Just the incessant, thunderous WHOOSH-CLANK of the Dreg-pumps.
"He wants us here," Kae said, her voice barely audible over the mechanical roar.
"Then we oblige him," Valerius replied, racking a shell into the shotgun. "Stay close. And if you feel him take root, Vance, you know what to do."
Kae nodded, clutching the dagger. She knew.
They disembarked and approached a service door. It was heavy iron, bolted from the outside.
Valerius kicked it. The sound was lost in the industrial din. He produced a glowing rune-key, which shimmered as he pressed it against the lock. The metal groaned, and the heavy bolts slid open with a metallic shriek.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of ozone, hot metal, and something else… something wet and organic.
The main chamber was a cathedral of steel. Massive, piston-driven pumps rose three stories high, their mechanisms slick with oil and glowing with a faint, residual arcane energy. Catwalks crisscrossed the space, spanning vast abysses of whirring gears.
"Where is he?" Valerius barked.
Patience, Inquisitor, the Voice chuckled in Kae's head. It's not time yet. Don't you know anything about dramatic tension?
Then, the thrumming stopped.
Not gradually. Instantly.
One moment, the entire building was vibrating with the roar of machinery. The next, it was utterly, terrifyingly silent.
The city had held its breath.
In the sudden, absolute quiet, the air grew thick with a faint, iridescent haze—the raw Arcane Dreg, usually filtered, now filling the chamber. It stung Kae's eyes and prickled her skin.
And then, she heard it.
A whisper. Not from the Voice, but from the actual air. A thousand faint, disembodied whispers, rising and falling like a choir of hungry ghosts. They seemed to emanate from the Dreg itself.
The Echoes, Kae realized with a jolt of horror. The trapped minds of the city's dead, lost in the Dreg.
They're waking up, the Voice supplied, sounding gleeful.
A figure emerged from the Dreg-haze on a catwalk above them.
It was the killer.
He stood perfectly still, bathed in the sickly glow of the raw Dreg. He was still wearing the mirror mask, but it seemed to shift and ripple, reflecting fragmented images of Kae and Valerius. He wore a long, flowing coat made of black, oiled leather, and his hands were encased in intricate silver gloves.
"Welcome," the killer said, his voice amplified by the strange acoustics of the chamber. It was the same rich baritone from Kae's mind. "I trust you enjoyed the invitation."
Valerius raised his shotgun. "Yield, heretic. Surrender to the judgment of the Luminaries."
The killer tilted his head. "Judgment? My dear Inquisitor, I am simply showing them the truth. This city, this world, is a stage of puppets. And every puppet needs a strings-master."
He raised his hands, the silver gloves gleaming.
Suddenly, the whispers intensified. The iridescent Dreg-haze began to coalesce. It swirled into forms. Not solid, but shimmering, translucent figures of light and shadow—the tormented ghosts of Obolus, animated by the killer's power.
They looked like people Kae had seen in her memories: a child clutching a toy, an old man hunched over, a screaming woman. Hundreds of them, forming a spectral army.
"He's animating the Dreg-ghosts!" Kae shouted, recognizing the arcane manipulation. This wasn't just magic; it was a communion with chaos.
"Such pretty little souls," the killer observed. "So much wasted fear. So much unused despair."
He lowered his hands.
The Dreg-ghosts shrieked, a sound that scraped against Kae's very sanity. They poured off the catwalks like a living waterfall, descending upon Valerius and Kae.
"Stay behind me!" Valerius bellowed, firing the shotgun.
The blast tore through the nearest ghost, shredding it into ribbons of light. But it reformed instantly, flowing back together like smoke.
"They're not corporeal!" Kae cried, grabbing Valerius's arm. "You can't shoot them!"
No, but you can eat them, the Voice whispered, its tone insidious. Such a buffet, little parasite. All that pure despair. All that sweet, ripe terror.
Kae felt a terrible, primal hunger awaken within her. The Dimeritium cuffs were off. Her abilities were unchained. The Echoes of the Banker and the Whore stirred, emboldened, urging her to feed.
A ghost reached for her, its translucent hand passing through her shoulder, sending a chill that went bone-deep. Kae gasped, feeling a surge of pure, unadulterated terror—not her own, but the ghost's dying fear, flooding her senses.
"Kaelen!" Valerius shouted, fighting a new wave of spirits with the butt of his shotgun.
She had to focus. She had to fight.
Or feed, the Voice suggested. Just a little bite. To gain strength.
Kae closed her eyes. She focused her will, not on fighting the ghosts, but on consuming them. She reached out, extending her psychic tendrils, and latched onto the nearest Dreg-spirit.
The sensation was overwhelming. A torrent of raw, undiluted agony, fear, and loss poured into her. It wasn't just a memory; it was a fragment of a soul. Kae choked on it, gagging as the sheer quantity of emotion threatened to drown her.
But with it came strength. A surge of desperate, furious energy.
The Dreg-ghost she had targeted screamed, a high-pitched wail that seemed to drain the very light from the air. It dissolved, not into mist, but into a black wisp that shot into Kae's own mind.
The other ghosts recoiled, their whispers faltering.
Yes! the Voice exulted. Feast! Show them the true horror, little shadow!
"They're afraid of me," Kae realized, her voice hoarse. "They're not afraid of you, Valerius. They're afraid of what I do."
Valerius, still fending off a fresh assault, looked at her. Her eyes were burning with an unholy light, reflecting the shimmering Dreg.
"Then show them why, Vance!" he roared.
Kae embraced the hunger. She reached out with both hands, focusing all her will, and latched onto every ghost within her reach.
A wave of shrieks filled the chamber. Hundreds of Dreg-ghosts convulsed, tearing themselves apart, their despair and agony pouring into Kae like a tidal wave. She felt her mind stretch, threaten to tear, as she absorbed their final moments, their regrets, their unspoken words.
Her own identity fractured under the assault. She was the child who lost its toy. She was the old man hunched over. She was the screaming woman. A thousand disparate consciousnesses tried to assert themselves within her, threatening to rip Kaelen Vance to shreds.
Too much! the Banker shrieked. It's too much!
More! the Voice demanded, its laughter ringing through the chaos. More!
On the catwalk, the killer watched, his mirror mask glinting. He didn't seem surprised. He seemed… delighted.
"Such a marvelous appetite, my dear," he called out, his voice a balm over the psychic storm. "A true artist of the void. And now for the main event."
He raised his hands again.
Below them, the great, silent Dreg-pumps began to thrum anew. Not with their usual, rhythmic WHOOSH-CLANK, but with a slow, discordant pulse. The entire structure groaned under an unseen pressure.
"What is he doing?" Valerius yelled, firing at the killer, but the figure remained untouched by the lead shot.
Kae, still reeling from the psychic buffet, looked around. The raw Dreg in the chamber began to glow brighter, swirling with an unnatural energy.
He's going to overload the system! the Voice screamed, suddenly losing its amusement. He's going to shatter the filters!
Kae understood. If the killer overloaded the Dreg-pumps, it wouldn't just vent the toxic smog; it would weaponize it. The raw, unfiltered Arcane Dreg would be unleashed onto the unsuspecting Guilds, twisting minds, driving the city insane.
"He's going to release the Dreg!" Kae shrieked. "He's going to poison the entire district!"
The thrumming intensified. The floor vibrated. Metal groaned.
The killer on the catwalk threw back his head. His laughter was no longer contained. It echoed through the massive chamber, a joyous, unhinged sound that threatened to drown out the very concept of sanity.
"Let them breathe!" the killer cried, spreading his arms wide, as if embracing the apocalypse he was about to unleash. "Let them breathe the truth!"
Kae saw a flash of movement. A thin, crystalline filament, shimmering with black energy, snaking out from the killer's outstretched hand. It connected to the main control panel of the Dreg-pumps.
"Stop him!" Valerius bellowed, charging forward, but a fresh surge of Dreg-ghosts coalesced, blocking his path.
Kae couldn't move. Her mind was a maelstrom of borrowed terrors, her body trembling with the aftershocks of a thousand consumed deaths. She was overloaded.
Now, Kaelen, the Voice whispered, its tone turning icy, cutting through the chaos like a scalpel. Now you fight him. Or the play ends with everyone dead.
Kae looked up at the killer, his laughter filling the chamber. He was poised to shatter the city's mind.
And deep within her own, a new, terrible strength began to awaken. Not the borrowed strength of the dead, but the raw, unhinged power of a Mindsink pushed to her absolute limit. She had feasted on a thousand nightmares. Now, she would unleash her own.