Esther studied Dr. Neuer. He was short, his hair rumpled and sticking up in places. His lab coat was dotted with oil stains—an odd sight for someone in his field, but then, everything about Dr. Neuer hinted at eccentricity.

She remembered his file well; she’d once been on the panel debating his nomination to the academy. Despite his dual degrees in mechanical engineering and neurology, his unconventional research led to repeated rejections.

“It’s no trouble at all, emissary,” he said, stifling a yawn as he spoke. “Having someone from the Science Academy here is an honor. But I must admit, I’m baffled as to why you’d want to see me.”

“To be honest, Dr. Neuer, I came because I read your file. You’re the best neurologist in New Lisbon.” Esther’s tone was even, but she kept a close eye on his reaction.

The doctor nodded, accepting the compliment with a tired shrug. He didn’t display any false modesty, nor did he look particularly proud. It was as if she’d merely pointed out something obvious. Esther imagined he’d respond the same way if she told him the sky was blue.

“Who’s the patient?” he asked without missing a beat.

“Me, actually.” Dr. Neuer’s eyes widened, and he swiftly reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a small flashlight and stepping closer.

“What symptoms are you experiencing?” He clicked the flashlight on, his gaze shifting to sharp concentration as he examined her pupils.

“I was aboard a zeppelin for a week. Suddenly, my colleague and I both lost consciousness. None of the other crew members experienced anything similar. I was out for two days, and my colleague only recently woke up. I have no memory of what happened.”

“That’s highly unusual,” he murmured, frowning as he rubbed at his unshaven jaw. “Were you and your colleague together when it happened?”

“I don’t remember, but the crew said they found us in the same room.”

Dr. Neuer’s gaze flicked to a nearby machine, and his posture grew tense. “When exactly did this happen?”

“Three days ago, mid-afternoon,” she replied, noting his sudden unease.

Dr. Neuer’s throat bobbed in a nervous gulp. “Please excuse me for a moment. Doris! Come here!” Heavy, deliberate steps echoed through the lab. Esther turned, expecting to see a large assistant, but instead, a small metal automaton entered, trailing a thick tube connected to what she assumed was a boiler.

The sight of Doris stirred a memory of her childhood—of the mechanical dolls that danced in the town square at noon. She glanced back at Dr. Neuer, a spark of curiosity flickering in her mind.

“Did you build this automaton?” she asked.

“No, an old student of mine did,” he replied, a trace of pride evident in his voice.

“Really? He must be brilliant.”

“He was,” Dr. Neuer said, his tone softer. “Came from Mr. Jebediah’s opportunity school. That boy could work magic with machines. I might be the best neurologist, but he was the best mechanical engineer I ever met.”

“Was?” she asked, catching the past tense.

Dr. Neuer’s gaze lowered. “Yes. Sadly, he’s no longer with us.”

The automaton, which he’d called ‘Doris,’ approached with smooth, calculated movements, each step deliberate and graceful. Esther marveled at the craftsmanship—the joints moved seamlessly, and every gesture felt intentional.

“It’s impressive. Did it just obey your command?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Sounds are vibrations in the air,” he explained, his tone lighting up with enthusiasm. “I designed a mechanism that responds to specific sequences of those vibrations. It’s primitive but effective.”

“And what commands does it understand?”

“Just a few,” he admitted. “It responds to ‘come,’ ‘rest,’ and ‘report.’” Doris stared at her with unblinking, lifeless eyes.

“She didn’t react to your commands earlier.”

“That’s because I need to preface them with her name.” He turned to the machine. “Doris, report.”

“When?” came a muffled voice, as if it were playing from a gramophone somewhere else in the lab.

“Three days,” Dr. Neuer replied.

A long slip of paper rolled out from the automaton’s back, stretching to nearly three meters by the time it stopped.

Esther felt a shiver of excitement. This automaton was far more advanced than Dr. Neuer was letting on. She made a mental note to recommend him to the academy—his work and that of his late student could be invaluable assets.

“What’s this?” Esther asked, inspecting the paper.

“Since the Flood, my wave scanner’s been acting up.”

“Wave scanner?” she asked, a brow raised.

“My latest project,” Dr. Neuer said with a small, proud smile. “Just as sound is created by air vibrations, I’ve been researching other, subtler vibrations—what I call mental waves.”

Esther barely contained a skeptical expression. The theory sounded far-fetched, but she kept her face neutral. “And this machine detects these… mental waves?”

He nodded, his eyes gleaming with intensity. “It records the vibrations on this paper. But lately, the readings have been erratic. Just look.” He pointed to a sudden spike in the oscillations. “This occurred exactly when you experienced your incident.”

Esther examined the jagged lines on the paper, noting how they resembled seismograph readings. “Are you suggesting these are mental waves?”

“Precisely. See that spike? It coincides exactly with your brain trauma.”

“Couldn’t it just be a coincidence?”

“If it were only you, perhaps. But two people with identical symptoms at the same time? That’s too unusual to ignore.”

“What’s your suggestion, Doctor?” Esther asked.

Dr. Neuer’s eyes gleamed with intensity. “What if all the static my device has been capturing isn’t static? What if it’s the prelude to some kind of mental wave eruption? Perhaps some unknown phenomenon triggered a massive burst of mental wave energy. It was localized and only affected you and your colleague.”

Esther resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So this was why he hadn’t made it into the Science Academy—just a few minutes in, and the eccentric theories began to surface. “Thank you very much for your help, Dr. Neuer. It’s been… enlightening.”

Dr. Neuer frowned slightly, undeterred. “I’d like to run a few tests, just to make sure you’re all right.”

“Maybe another time,” she replied smoothly, already moving toward the door. “I have an appointment this afternoon that I’m dreading but can’t afford to miss.”

*

Joey had barely set foot in the commissioner’s office before Fabius closed the door behind him. The blinds were drawn, the room cast in dim light, and Joey swayed slightly, still woozy from his hospital stay. Every step he’d taken felt like a struggle, and the horseback ride here had only added to his exhaustion. His head throbbed, but he forced himself to focus, knowing he wouldn’t have been called in if it wasn’t urgent.

“What’s this about, Chief?” he asked, squinting to bring Fabius’s form into clearer view.

Fabius leaned against the wall by a crime board filled with scrawled notes, news clippings, and lines connecting one name to another like the web of some enormous conspiracy. His face was lined with fatigue, and the shadows under his eyes were darker than Joey had ever seen. The commissioner looked at Joey with a grim intensity.

“Where should I even begin?” Fabius muttered, more to himself than to Joey. He ran a hand through his graying hair, then fixed his gaze back on Joey. “While you were on the Albatross, we were hit with a wave of crimes unlike anything this city has ever seen.”

Joey’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

Fabius took a deep breath, stepping closer to the board. “It started with a mass kidnapping. Over a thousand people—craftsmen, engineers, train operators, zeppelin mechanics—all at the top of their fields. Some vanished on their way home. Others were taken right out of their beds. Every single one of them, gone without a trace.”

Joey stared at him, stunned. “A thousand?”

Stolen novel; please report.

“One thousand two hundred and three, to be exact.” Fabius’s voice dropped. “Not a single ransom demand, no leads. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was a wave of thefts.”

“What kind of thefts?”

Fabius clenched his fists. “To start, all our locotanks. Every last one. Stolen right from the precinct trainyards.”

Joey blinked, the scale of it hard to comprehend. “They stole our locotanks?”

“Yes, and they didn’t stop there.” Fabius’s voice lowered to a bitter mutter. “They even took the Rendezvous Clock. And the Market Clock, too.”

Joey tried to wrap his head around it. “They stole… the clocks?”

“Not the towers—just the clocks and their mechanisms. They emptied them out like they were cleaning house.” Fabius’s laughter was dry, humorless.

Joey glanced at the chaotic crime board, his mind racing to grasp the scale of what had happened. Names of the missing were listed in one column; newspaper clippings displayed headlines like “Only the Bones of the Clock Remain” and “Mayor’s Right-Hand Man Gone Missing.” Nothing made sense.

“It gets worse,” Fabius continued. “They stole two zeppelins, six trains, and nearly every diamond in the city. The biggest haul? The Dawn Star—the world’s largest diamond—lifted from the New Lisbon Metropolitan Museum.”

Joey stared, feeling the weight of the revelation settle in. This wasn’t just a crime spree; it was an orchestrated dismantling of the city’s structure.

“The city’s in turmoil,” Fabius continued, pacing. “Nearly everyone knows someone who’s missing. It’s like the whole city’s on edge. Graffiti, vandalism, people rioting for answers. And if that weren’t enough, something strange is happening at the lake.”

Joey raised a brow. “Let me guess—it flooded?”

Fabius shook his head. “This is different. People are being healed.”

“H-healed?”

“Yes. Healed. And we’ve lost contact with Dr. Link’s expedition. That, too. They haven’t returned.”

For a moment, they were both silent. Joey noticed the weariness in Fabius’s posture, the desperation. This wasn’t a superior briefing an underling; it was a friend crying for help.

“I feel like it’s all connected somehow,” Fabius murmured. “But I can’t see the pattern. I need a fresh perspective, Joey. What do you make of all this?”

Joey took a breath, steadying himself. “There’s no way all these crimes happened on the same night by coincidence. This was coordinated. It had to involve every criminal in the city—someone with enough reach to mobilize them all. There’s only one figure with that kind of control,” Joey said slowly. “The Black Merchant. We’ve never confirmed he exists, but…” His voice trailed off.

Fabius turned, flipped the board to a chalkboard, and scrawled, “Black Merchant” and underneath, “Every criminal in the city involved.”

“That explains the how,” Joey continued. “Now, as for the why… it seems like everything taken—both people and things—is connected to machinery. The people taken were skilled craftsmen. My best guess? Whoever’s behind this is building something. Joey hesitated, rubbing his temples. “I’m sorry, Chief, maybe I’m just tired. This sounds far-fetched…”

“Nonsense,” Fabius interrupted, his tone firm. “Keep going. I need every thought you’ve got. Building something. What?”

“How can I know?”

“So, what do you suggest we do next?”

Joey took a steadying breath, feeling more confident. “I’d start by pulling in every criminal we can get our hands on. Interrogate them. Maybe by cross-referencing their stories, we’ll catch a lead.”

Fabius nodded, adding “Round up criminals, cross-reference” to the to-do list.

“And consult the academic community,” Joey continued. “Make a list of everything stolen. See if they can tell us what could be built with it.”

“Good thinking.” Fabius added it to the list, then turned, his expression clouded. “There’s something else, though.”

Joey’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“The locotanks.” Fabius’s expression was grim. “Joey, I went to get you from the hospital because you’re the only one I can trust. Whoever stole those tanks knew exactly what they were doing. They had to know their way around them—only a handful of people have that level of training and access.”

Joey felt a chill. “You think someone in the force was involved?”

Fabius nodded. “I do. And you’re the only one who’s been out of the city and off-duty the whole time. You’re the only one I’m certain isn’t involved.”

The weight of it settled between them. Joey nodded, his mind already moving past his own fatigue, considering every angle. “Then let’s get to work, Chief.”

*

The Lithos Mountains, the world’s most extensive mountain range, stretched for hundreds of kilometers across the continent. It was known for their deep mines and rare, precious gems. The mountains loomed so vast and high that they shaped weather patterns across entire regions.

Far beneath the surface, a tremor rippled through the ancient layers of stone. One rock shifted, then another, and the entire subterranean cavern soon pulsed with life. The vibrations grew warmer, the warmth intensifying into a searing, smoldering heat. Deep red fissures opened as rock melted, dripping and pooling into molten rivers, a churning flood of liquid fire.

There’s something in the air.

It wasn’t rooted in stone but hidden in water. The presence felt distant yet undeniable.

A new neighbor?

*

"Impressive, isn’t it?" Geoffrey gestured toward the lakeshore, where a crowd had gathered on a sandy beach near his animal pens. People carried others in wheelchairs and on stretchers, easing them into the water. Joyful shouts and festive music mingled with the hum of voices. "What do you make of these ‘miracle dives,’ Professor?”

“I believe it to be some placebo effect. The crowd has been built into a frenzy. Once they calm down, the pains and symptoms will return.”

“I don’t know about that. I went to check it the other day, and there was a boy who could hardly talk when he got here, and once he came out of the water, he was singing like an angel.”

Esther let out a raspy sigh, her irritation evident. Geoffrey was struggling to find common ground with her, and her impatience showed.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with some tea?” he offered.

“No, Mr. Geoffrey, thank you. But I appreciate your hospitality.” She looked as exhausted as she sounded, her recent illness still visible in her pale complexion. But her discomfort seemed rooted in more than fatigue; Geoffrey sensed a hint of dislike beneath her professional facade, though he wasn’t certain why.

"I was so relieved when I heard you and Joey were safe," he said, hoping to ease the tension. "I visited him this morning."

“How is the constable?”

“Just waking up when I saw him, but the doctors say he’ll be fine. And you? Feeling better?”

“Mostly, though I still feel a bit off. I expect I’ll be back to a hundred percent in a couple of days.”

"Good, good." He hesitated, then asked, "Did you find anything interesting while flying over the lake?"

Esther’s expression became guarded. "Nothing I’m ready to share just yet. I still need to review my notes. As you can imagine, I haven’t had much time since leaving the hospital."

“Certainly, certainly,” Geoffrey replied quickly. Something in her response made him uneasy.

“Mr. Geoffrey, why did you call me here?” she asked pointedly. “Requesting an emissary from the Science Academy isn’t something one does on a whim.”

“I understand the importance of reporting any unusual ecological phenomena to the Academy.”

“Indeed.”

“Please, follow me.”

Esther rose, following him reluctantly. “Where are we going? You’re not taking me into that crowd of ‘miracle divers,’ are you?”

“No, no,” Geoffrey replied, leading her down a secluded path along the shoreline. “Shortly after the Flood, I noticed something unusual on one of my private beaches.”

“What sort of unusual?”

“It’s easier if I show you. Please bear with me.”

Geoffrey led her along a quiet stretch of the shore, away from the commotion. The lake had returned to its normal levels, but the trees on this beach were dense, their branches stretching over the water. Unlike the crowded beach nearby, this place was quiet, almost eerily so.

Esther frowned. “What’s unusual about this beach, Mr. Geoffrey?”

Geoffrey held up a hand, signaling her to wait. “Just listen.”

Plop.

Esther turned, hearing something drop into the water. The sound repeated, coming from somewhere above.

“Probably a pond apple or a horse chestnut,” she guessed. Both trees grew along the lake, and their fruit often dropped into the water, a treat for the sirenian herds below.

“Except it’s the wrong season,” Geoffrey replied, a slight smile playing on his lips. “This isn’t fruit, Professor.”

Plop. Another splash, then another.

Esther shrugged off her coat and handed it to Geoffrey. “Hold this, please.”

Without another word, she began climbing the nearest tree, moving with surprising agility for someone recently ill. She vanished into the canopy, her movements quick and confident.

Geoffrey allowed himself a brief, self-satisfied smile. Everything was proceeding as he’d hoped.

“Mr. Geoffrey, bring me my bag—quickly!” Esther’s voice was urgent.

He slung her rucksack over his shoulder, hung their coats on a low branch, and began climbing. His ascent was far clumsier than hers. When he finally reached her, he found Esther perched on a branch, perfectly still, like a hawk eyeing its prey.

“Pass me a jar from the bag,” she whispered.

Geoffrey rummaged through the bag and handed her a jar. Esther held it steady, her gaze intent. Then, with a swift motion, she captured something and sealed the lid tightly.

Inside, a dark beetle squirmed, its single, unblinking eye fixed on them. It moved frantically, pressing against the glass in futile attempts to escape.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” she murmured, her voice tinged with awe.

Geoffrey shook his head. “Not until the Flood.”

They watched as a sudden flash flared inside the jar. In an instant, the beetle combusted, reducing itself to nothing—no ash, no residue.

“It did it again,” Esther whispered, transfixed by what she’d seen.

“Exactly. I tried catching one myself several times, but they always escaped. I thought it’d be better to show you.”

Plop, plop, plop—the sounds of beetles dropping into the water resumed, one after another.

Esther’s brows knitted in concentration. “It’s not normal for beetles to swarm like this.” She took a tiny notepad from her pocket, quickly sketching the beetle’s shape and noting its unusual characteristics. “A single eye. It’s extremely rare for any animal, let alone an insect, to have this kind of unilateral structure. And self-combustion upon contact? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Geoffrey nodded, trying to mask his satisfaction. “And strange that it appeared only after the Flood.”

Esther’s expression turned thoughtful, her gaze distant. “A new species… after the Flood.” She paused, as if some realization were dawning on her.

“Mr. Geoffrey, would you mind if I stayed here for the rest of the afternoon? I’d like to study these creatures further.”

“By all means! I’ll have my staff set up a tent and bring supplies. Feel free to stay as long as you need. Apologies, but I must return to attend to some business.” He tipped his hat, a trace of amusement flickering across his face. “I’ll leave you to it, Professor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Geoffrey.” She said, still absorbed in her sketch.

“Not at all,” he said, winking before making his way back to the estate.

*

As Geoffrey disappeared into the distance, Esther exhaled, her thoughts racing. She looked down at her sketch, the peculiar details of the beetle etched into the page. The single eye, the self-combustion—all of it seemed to defy reason.

She pulled out the map she’d drawn aboard the Albatross, comparing it to her sketch. Her pulse quickened as she studied them both. Could this really just be a coincidence?

*

“Miracle water! Miracle water! Get your miracle water for one quid!” Reggie’s voice rang across the lakeshore market as he brandished a dusty bottle overhead. Absurd as it seemed, people were lining up to buy a bottle.

“Trust me, miss,” he said, passing a bottle to an eager customer. “Just a sip, and you’ll feel ten years youngah! Clears your skin, brightens your eyes, might even fix your dodgy knee!”

A voice interrupted his pitch. “If that water’s so miraculous, Reggie, how come none of your teeth have grown back? Or your hair?”

Reggie spun around, unfazed. “Constable Joey! A pleasure, always! Fancy a bottle of the good stuff? Eh?”

Joey folded his arms, giving Reggie an unimpressed look. “Come on, Reggie. Do you really believe this nonsense?”

Reggie winked. “Believe it? Constable, let me tell ya—me mate Tibbers, who’s been hobblin’ around for years? Saw him sprintin’ down the street just yesterday. Miracle water, I say!”

Joey shook his head. “Right. And this is actual lake water?”

Reggie hesitated, then nodded enthusiastically. “Course it is! Straight from the source!”

Joey raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. That didn’t sound very convincing.”

Reggie’s grin turned sheepish. “Constable, what can I say? I already told ya everything I knew about that oil business. I’ve got nothin’ to hide!”

“Actually, I’m here about something else entirely.” Joey’s tone grew serious, and Reggie’s smile wavered. “I need you to come to the precinct, Reggie. We need to talk about what happened three days ago.”