The night was unusually quiet; most nights in this melancholy techno-magick city are... But this night was quiet in a different way. This quietness was not the quietness of absence, the indication of people resting, or arresting themselves in underground bars, doing things forbidden... No. That wasn't the kind of silence this night radiated.

There brewed in the air a strange electric smell. It was the smell of the flow of magick. The flow of magic towards a common point...

A powerful entity...

An accumulator of power in the form of ether.

Standing on top of one of the many abandoned skyscrapers in the west side of the city, clinging to its lightning rod, was an ominous figure, clothed in a rather over the top victorian fashion.

The figure was tall. "Too tall" any citizen of that maniacal city would say, "to be human".

And too unsettling...

His coat was billowing in the lightning touched cold wind. And the monocle on his face mask was glowing a bright purple, with the occasional pinkish glitter that showed the flow of ether.

Oliver Fade knew that something was coming towards the city. Something that could take back the city to the dark ages; back when the witches ruled the city with light - or rather too much of it. So much so that it burned out the will to live of the millions that had lived there.

Oliver shivered. Years of brutal training, and repetitions of hundreds of incantations, and still he felt terribly unprepared.

Oliver checked and rechecked his amulets and his charms. The mask and the monocles had been a welcome addition to his repertoire of abilities. The monocles can see the traces left behind by witches; he had won it from a bar fight last week and he felt grateful for the madness he possessed. Although it didn't always help him get better outcomes, Oliver's love for brawls and boisterousness had on many occasions saved his life.

But he doubted very much if it was going to help him now. Oliver shivered ashe closed his right eye and squinted into his purple monocle and saw the pink streaks on purple.

Witchery... Danger... Enemy...

His charms kicked in. The coat, old and withered it was, had on its leather surface scrathes from the giant phoenix that had burnt down old london an eternity back. It's inside told the story of how Ember Gearsmith had flown his ornithopter up to the mad phoenix's back and tamed it.

He had disproved the false belief that magical mutations were uncontrollable. The coat of Ember was on him now. It gave him freedom to fly anywhere near the leylines, he had never been in a situation where he had had to go farther and out of the reach of the help that the magical lines could give.

But tonight he might have to go on a chase that could very well lead him out and into the Scabbards, where most of his charms would be rendered useless. Even outside of those accursed lands, he felt hopelessness besiege his heart. The scabbards... He shivered. Any magic wielding bastard would be scared shiteless of it. You would become human again in that place. Powerless again...

Oliver Fade's hands were starting to feel numb. He scratched them and the itch of blood flow comforted him, but when he felt the goosebumps on his skin, he knew that even his body was afraid of the pink dot he could see through his monocle in the far far distance.

He let go of the lightning rod; he had charged his Lightining-Belt to its limits; the charge from the lightning rod had made the magick-leather almost burn, and the oscillator-metal that connected the leather's ends was buzzing, asking in electric rage to let him unleash its power. Oliver realized that the belt could very well be his only way out of that menace tgat was rushing toward the center of the city at blinding speeds.

The monocle had developed a streak of pink and he couldn't very well see the thing. He pushed his monocle up and rested it against the brim of his grey hat and tried to find his target against the light polluted horizon that stretched across the city borders.

Oliver thought about his son as his eyes caught the incoming burning yellow ball. He had never worried about being a vigilante before. He had never had to think twice. Because he knew he had never been in any real danger.

A thief who stole the artifacts that could call down gods with delirious names, Oliver didn't mind. A master wizard turned mad by his own potions? Oliver couldn't care less. But he knew his limits. And they were far below what that infernal yellow glow was capable of.

I am in real danger tonight...

He remembered the brotherhood's ways. The oaths he had taken under excruciating pain. You had to take them every full moon, to keep the fear at bay...

Oliver let go of his hold and jumped, letting go of the thoughts about his son, his wife to whom he had promised. He let go of the promises and the feelings.

When he jumped all that held onto him was the rage. His rage...

And as the coat glided him toward the growing sphere of plasmic energy, he touched the lightning-belt and prepared to strike at the protective electric charm. He was getting closer and closer and he could soon see the terrifying, malevolent creature inside the charm. A pointed, tall white hat and the blur of the robe.

He pulled back his arm and with all of his mighr he struck at it.

Clapppppp...

He could see the blur losing speed and coming to a stop in the distance, while he hovered on, his Ember coat trilling with energy. He only had to think and before he knew it, he was flying along with the light witch. Falling...

"I thought you people had wings!" Oliver said. The light witch shrieked as she fell, paying no attention to the man with the monocle, trying to save herself.

"I can help you!" he said, looking at the helpless face. She was trying to talk.

Incantations?

Oliver pulled her out of the sky, holding her by her robes.

"I can't see!"

The witch was screaming.

Oliver frowned.

This helpless, inexperienced woman wasn't what he had expected to encounter.

"They're coming!" she said. "Hundreds of them! Thousands!"

"Who are you?" Oliver asked.

"I can't see!" the witch said. "Let go of me!"

Oliver realized she could in fact not see; she was punching the air in front of her.

He sighed and took her to the nearest rooftop.

As disgusted he was by the idea of even touching the clothes of the oppressors of his ancestors, Oliver couldn't help but feel pity towards this frail creature.

"Who are you?" Oliver demanded.

"I'm... It doesn't matter... I can't see!" She said. "They are coming. They'll be here at sunrise."

"No wonder you can't see!" He said. "You were riding lightning, child. What did you expect. "

Tears were rolling down her pale cheeks.

"I had to get away!" she said. "Do you know of the witches?"

"Yes, child." Oliver said."I know enought to know that you are one."

"I am not!" she said.

"I find that hard to believe."

"I am trying not to be!" she replied.

Oliver nodded.

He reached into his stachel and took out the vial of unicorn tears and broke it.

He applied it generously over her eyes.

"Blink" he commanded her, with his right hand over her eyes, shielding the magick from pollutants that could cause mutations. He pulled down his monocle with his left hand and saw that the horizon had gotten much brighter. It was as if the sun was prematurely rising, tired of hiding.