Chapter 7: A Clock Ticks
Elias stared at the note in his hand, the wax seal crumbling between his fingers as the weight of the Ouroboros Society's warning settled over him. The threat wasn't vague; it was deliberate, calculated. He had three days to return the shard—an artifact he wasn't even sure he understood—or they'd come for him.
He tossed the note onto the desk and slumped into the chair, his mechanical arm resting heavily on the worn wood. The faint hum of the shard in his satchel was a constant reminder of the stakes. Whatever power it held, it wasn't safe in anyone's hands, least of all the Society's.
His eyes drifted to Victor Caine's journal, still open where he'd left it. The scholar's scribbled notes hinted at a much larger conspiracy, but the pieces didn't yet fit. Elias reached for the journal, flipping to a page marked by a folded corner.
"The Ouroboros Society's rituals are tied to the Veil. They believe the Veil separates our world from the 'Unseen.' The shard is a key, but to use it requires a second piece—a conduit."
"A conduit," Elias muttered under his breath. He leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. If the shard was only part of the puzzle, the Society would need the conduit to complete their ritual. That gave him a lead, a thread to pull on.
But where to start?
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The Golden Gasket was as loud and chaotic as always. Smugglers and black-market merchants filled the air with shouted deals and clinking glasses. Elias slipped inside, his presence barely noted amid the usual crowd. He moved to the bar, his mechanical arm drawing a curious glance or two before he found a stool.
"Vaughn," he said to the bartender, sliding a coin across the counter.
The man behind the bar nodded toward a booth in the corner. Elias turned to see Vaughn hunched over a drink, his glass eye glinting faintly in the dim light. The informant looked even more nervous than usual, his gaze darting around the room like he expected someone to attack him.
Elias approached, pulling the chair back and sitting without invitation.
"Thorne," Vaughn said, his voice low. "I told you—messing with Ouroboros is suicide."
"You're the one who said I was already in too deep," Elias replied, leaning forward. "So help me dig my way out. I need to know about a conduit."
Vaughn froze, his hand gripping his glass tightly. "A conduit?" he whispered. "What are you playing at, Thorne?"
"They're looking for it," Elias said. "It's the other half of what they need to complete their ritual. You know something. Spill it."
Vaughn hesitated, his eyes flicking to the door. "You don't understand what you're asking. The conduit isn't just some artifact. It's a tool to channel the Veil's energy. If the Society gets their hands on it…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "This city doesn't stand a chance."
"Then help me stop them," Elias said, his tone sharp. "Where is it?"
Vaughn sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "The conduit was last seen in the hands of a rogue alchemist—a woman named Lyssa Calder. She's been hiding out in the Underworks."
Elias frowned. The Underworks was a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers beneath Eldoria, a place where the city's forgotten and unwanted went to disappear. It wasn't a place you visited lightly, and finding someone there was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
"Where in the Underworks?" Elias pressed.
Vaughn shrugged. "I don't know. All I've heard is that she's down there, trying to keep the conduit out of Ouroboros's hands. But if they're after her, you can bet she's not staying in one place."
Elias stood, sliding another coin across the table. "Thanks for the lead."
"Thorne," Vaughn said, his voice stopping him mid-step. "Be careful. Lyssa's no saint. She's just as likely to stab you as she is to help you."
Elias smirked faintly. "Good thing I'm not easy to stab."
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The entrance to the Underworks was hidden behind a crumbling warehouse in Eldoria's industrial quarter. Elias found it after an hour of searching, a rusted iron hatch half-buried beneath debris. He pried it open with his mechanical arm, the gears whining softly as he forced the hatch aside.
A wave of damp, stale air hit him as he descended into the tunnels. The darkness was almost absolute, broken only by the faint glow of gas lamps mounted on the walls at irregular intervals. The sound of dripping water echoed in the distance, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart.
The Underworks was a maze, its passages winding and intersecting with no discernible pattern. Elias moved cautiously, his revolver drawn, his senses alert. The shard's faint hum grew louder in his satchel, as if responding to the energy of the place.
As he turned a corner, a shadow darted across his path. Elias stopped, his grip tightening on the revolver.
"Who's there?" he called out, his voice echoing.
There was no response, only the faint scuff of boots on stone. Elias moved forward, his eyes scanning the darkness. The shard's hum grew stronger, almost insistent, guiding him deeper into the tunnels.
Finally, he reached a large chamber lit by a flickering lantern. A figure stood at the center, their back to him. A woman, cloaked and hooded, her hands moving over a table covered in vials and tools. Elias stepped closer, his revolver trained on her.
"Lyssa Calder?" he said.
The woman froze, her head tilting slightly as if listening. Then, with a quick movement, she turned, a dagger flashing in her hand. Elias ducked just as the blade sailed past his ear, embedding itself in the wall behind him.
"Who sent you?" she demanded, her voice sharp and cold. "Ouroboros? Or one of their lackeys?"
"Neither," Elias said, straightening. "I'm here to stop them."
Lyssa studied him, her eyes narrowing. "You're either brave or stupid to come down here, investigator. Maybe both."
"I'm looking for the conduit," Elias said. "I know you have it."
Lyssa's lips curled into a bitter smile. "And you think I'm just going to hand it over?"
"No," Elias replied, his mechanical arm flexing. "But I can make a damn good case."
The tension between them crackled like electricity. Lyssa's hand hovered over another weapon, but she didn't move. Instead, she laughed—a short, humorless sound.
"If you're here to fight Ouroboros, you might be useful," she said finally. "But if you double-cross me, I'll kill you myself."
"Fair enough," Elias said. "Now, tell me everything you know."
Lyssa stepped aside, revealing a worn leather case on the table. She opened it, and inside was a strange artifact—a twisted, metallic device etched with glowing runes. The conduit.
"This," Lyssa said, her voice low, "is what they'll kill for. And now that you're here, you've just painted a target on both of us."
Elias stared at the artifact, his mind racing. The Ouroboros Society wasn't far behind. He could feel it.
And the clock was ticking.
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