The dust settled slowly across the blackstone, blue-white crystal fragments dissolving into nothing as the cold wind carried them away. The cracks in the road surface remained, radiating outward from the point of impact where the Hex-Waro had first landed, and the patches of Voidshard-black fluid still sizzled faintly where they had soaked into the stone.
Alucent sat on the road's edge with his back against the cart wheel, his wrapped wrist resting in his lap as the linen Raya had applied slowly darkened with seeping blood. His vision had stabilized somewhat since the fight, though the edges still carried a faint shimmer that told him the blood loss was not finished making itself known. The Cold Scribe method had released its operational hold entirely, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion that settled into his bones like cold water.
Six anchors... Three of them in rapid succession at the end, and I'm sitting here because of it. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again, as closing them made the dizziness worse.
Several meters away, Gryan stood with his back to the group. He had rolled his dark blue sleeve past the elbow, exposing the brass components of his mechanical arm to the pale morning light. The rune-lines along the forearm were flickering unevenly, brightening at the shoulder while dimming at the wrist in a pattern Alucent recognized as integration degradation.
The Hex-Waro's spatial uncertainty treated his arm as a spatial anomaly... The rune-integration was experiencing the same displacement pressure we were feeling during the fight, and the arm was already stressed from the Voidshard Cluster in the Steam-Veins. Alucent watched quietly as Gryan tested the arm, curling the brass fingers into a fist before releasing them.
The first test held. The grip closed smoothly as the rune-lines stabilized momentarily while the joints clicked through their calibration sequence.
The second test held as well, though Alucent noticed a slight skip at the wrist where the rune-line flickered before catching.
The third test failed. The brass fingers curled halfway before the grip seized, the rune-lines at the wrist along with two finger-joints going dark simultaneously. Gryan's hand hung half-closed, the brass catching the morning light at an awkward angle.
He stared at it for a long moment before uncurling the fingers manually with his right hand, pressing each joint until it clicked back into resting position. After rolling his sleeve down over the arm, he returned to the cart without speaking.
Gryan said nothing, and Alucent did not press him, though the observation filed itself into the growing catalogue of damage this journey was inflicting on all of them.
Scribe Joy had moved a short distance from the cart, her deep forest green dress stirring in the cold wind as she knelt on the blackstone with her herb kit open beside her. Alucent watched her reach for a small cloth pouch before pausing, her hand hovering in the air for a moment as her blue eyes flickered with uncertainty.
She's checking which hand she reached with first... She can't tell which decision came before the other. The realization settled in his stomach. The sustained exposure to the Hex-Waro's spatial uncertainty during the fight affected her nervous system. Even without direct contact, prolonged proximity to that level of dimensional pressure leaves residue.
As Scribe Joy stood, she took a step forward and stopped mid-stride, correcting her footing with a small, precise adjustment before continuing. The step-check was subtle enough that Raya and Gryan would not have noticed, though Alucent's Thread 1 perception caught the momentary proprioceptive imprecision beneath it.
She treated herself methodically, withdrawing a sprig of dried herb from the cloth pouch before crushing it between her fingers and pressing the residue against the inside of her wrist.
This is Ironclover... A Runepeaks-native herb that addresses spatial-anchor disruption in the nervous system. The identification surfaced from his inherited knowledge as he watched the faint silver glow of her Bloodmark absorb the herb's properties. Within minutes, the step-checks ceased and her movements returned to their usual measured precision.
Scribe Joy repacked her herb kit with steady hands before folding it closed and returning it to her travel case without comment. Her blue eyes met Alucent's briefly as she passed, and the look she gave him was calm but assessing, as though she were cataloguing his condition the same way he had been cataloguing hers.
Instead of cleaning her blade or checking her kit, Raya sat on the opposite side of the cart with her Weaveblade across her knees, the amber glow fully faded from its edge. The gold trim along her burgundy sleeves was still spattered with Voidshard-black fluid, and her chestnut hair remained loose from its tie, falling across her scarred cheek. She sat very still with her hands resting on the flat of the blade, her hazel eyes fixed on the middle distance.
She didn't freeze. Alucent noted this quietly as the observation connected to the Tyranix encounter. Against Tyranix, the emotional inversion turned her fear into paralysis. She froze completely. But here, under dimensional spatial pressure from something arguably more complex, she adapted. Timed her attacks. Held her rhythm throughout.
Raya seemed to be aware of this too, though she showed no outward sign of processing it. Her expression remained neutral while her breathing stayed even, and the stillness she held carried the quality of someone who was collecting evidence about themselves before drawing any conclusions.
After a while, Alucent shifted his weight against the cart wheel and felt the Journal press against his hip through the pouch. The leather was warm, warmer than it should have been given the cold morning air, and the micro-runes along the cover were pulsing with a faint light that bled through the fabric.
It's activating... I didn't call it. I didn't intend anything. His hand moved to the pouch instinctively, and as his fingers touched the cover, the warmth intensified. His grip tightened on the Journal as the realization settled. The crystalline residue. It's responding to the Hex-Waro's remains.
He glanced toward Scribe Joy. She had turned away momentarily, examining something in her travel case. Raya caught his eye from her position by the cart, her gaze dropping briefly to the pouch at his belt before returning to his face. She understood. Gryan, leaning against the rear wheel, shifted his weight slightly as his eyes flickered toward the pouch and then away. He understood too.
"Record of All" fired before Alucent could brace for it.
The vision hit him with the disorienting clarity that always accompanied the Journal's unsolicited activations, pulling his perception away from the road, away from the cart, away from the pale morning light. His fingers tightened on the Journal's cover as his breathing quickened, and he was deposited into a space that existed only in the residual Runeforce imprint of the blue-white crystal fragments dissolving beside him.
He saw architecture. A facility interior, deep within Iron Vale, below ground level. Stone and brass construction with industrial lighting that cast harsh, unvarying light across rows of identical structures. The air in the vision carried a sterile quality, scrubbed of organic scent while heavy with ozone and heated metal.
Cages. Rows of them, extending into the facility's depths.
Purpose-built containment... The bars have spatial-anchor rune-work inscribed on them. This isn't something thrown together in an emergency. Alucent's analytical mind catalogued the details even as the vision pressed deeper, his breathing quickening further as his hands trembled against the Journal. The inscriptions were precise, professional, maintained with the regularity of active research infrastructure rather than emergency measures.
The cages were numbered. The numbers ran sequentially, and his perception tracked them as the vision moved deeper into the facility. He counted past twenty before the numbers blurred, though the sequence continued into the thirties at minimum.
Each cage had an observation logbook attached to its frame.
A research program... Someone built this facility specifically for containing and observing evolved Waros. The spatial-anchor rune-work on the bars is too specialized to have been improvised. This was planned. Funded. Maintained over time. His heart was beating hard enough for him to feel it in his temples as the vision's clarity sharpened for one final moment before releasing him.
When Alucent's perception returned to the road, he found himself still pressed against the cart wheel with his hand inside the pouch, gripping the Journal's cover while his breathing came in shallow gasps. The blue-white crystal fragments beside him had fully dissolved, leaving behind only a faint stain on the blackstone that was already fading.
He carefully withdrew his hand from the pouch and pressed it flat against his knee, steadying himself. Raya was watching him with a carefully neutral expression, though her eyes held a quiet understanding. Gryan had angled his body slightly to block Scribe Joy's line of sight toward the pouch, a small adjustment that appeared casual but was entirely deliberate.
When he looked up, Scribe Joy was watching him from beside the cart with her hands folded in her lap and her blue eyes steady. She had noticed his momentary absence, though she could not have seen what caused it.
Erm... I need to frame this carefully. She can't know about the Journal. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat before speaking.
"My Runeling perception caught something from the crystalline residue before it fully dissolved," Alucent said, keeping his voice level despite its hoarseness. "A Runeforce imprint. The creature's phase-origin."
Scribe Joy's blue eyes sharpened with interest as she turned toward him fully. The explanation was plausible. Thread 1 Runeling perception could theoretically read residual Runeforce imprints under the right conditions, though the level of detail he was about to describe would be unusual for a practitioner of his experience. He would have to be careful with how much he revealed.
After pausing to steady his breathing, he continued. "The creature's phase-origin is a facility deep within Iron Vale. Below ground level. Stone and brass construction with industrial lighting." He met Scribe Joy's eyes directly, keeping his expression neutral. "There are cages. Purpose-built containment with spatial-anchor rune-work on the bars to prevent phase-shifting. The cages are numbered sequentially into the thirties, and each one has an observation logbook attached to its frame."
He let that settle before adding quietly, "Someone is studying them. Training them. Cataloguing them."
Scribe Joy went still in the way she always went still when she was not letting her expression run ahead of her analysis. Her expression did not change as her hands remained folded in her lap while her blue eyes stayed fixed on his face.
Across from them, Raya's grip had tightened on her Weaveblade, though her expression gave nothing away. Gryan's jaw set tight beneath the collar of his dark blue suit, and his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead rather than on Alucent, maintaining the careful separation between what he knew and what Scribe Joy was allowed to see.
After a long moment, Scribe Joy spoke, her voice soft but unhesitant. "Numbered into the thirties, sequential, with observation logbooks."
"Yes."
"Then the creature we fought was released deliberately." Her blue eyes did not waver. "A catalogued specimen, deployed onto this specific road, at this specific time."
She accepted the Runeling explanation without pressing further... Either she believes it, or she's choosing not to question it right now. Alucent could not tell which, and the uncertainty added another weight to the growing catalogue in his mind.
The implication of her conclusion hung in the cold morning air as the wind carried away the last traces of crystal dust.
Someone sent it. Someone who has access to a facility full of them, and who knew we would be on this road. Alucent's mind ran through the implications as the cold residue in his stomach grew heavier. Tyranix warned us about blades lining the corridor ahead, this was one of them.
No one spoke for a while. The pale morning light crept across the blackstone as the mountains to the north stood closer now with their peaks visible above the ridgeline.
After what felt like a long time, Scribe Joy rose to her feet and smoothed the front of her deep forest green dress with a single precise motion.
"We continue," she said simply.
Alucent pushed himself upright with his good hand, leaning heavily against the cart wheel as his wrapped wrist throbbed. Raya sheathed her Weaveblade before climbing onto the cart without speaking. Gryan followed, testing his mechanical grip once more against the cart's frame as he pulled himself up. The grip held this time, though the rune-lines at the wrist still flickered.
John had been waiting with the reins in his hands, his plain brown suit dusty from the road while his expression remained as steady and unremarkable as ever. Upon seeing them settle, he released the brake and guided the horses forward.
The cart rolled on as the road stretched north toward the mountains. Somewhere in the depths of Iron Vale, a facility full of numbered cages sat waiting in the dark.
Alucent leaned his head against the window frame and watched the ridgeline grow closer. His wrist throbbed beneath the linen while his vision still shimmered at the edges. The Cold Scribe method had nothing left to section, leaving only the raw awareness of how close they had come to dying on this road.
He pressed his palm against the Journal's cover through the pouch, feeling its warmth against his hip. How many more are in those cages? And who decides when to open them?
The cart rolled on as the road stretched north, and no answer came.