“The next scent leads here,” Rava said, stopping in front of a modestly sized wooden building. Its walls were weathered but sturdy, the faint hum of voices filtering out from within.
Vivienne tilted her head, her quintet of eyes scanning the structure with mild curiosity. “What’s this place?”
“A school,” Rava replied, her tone neutral. “For children and adults who want to learn to read.”
Vivienne let out a soft hum of approval, stepping closer to the door. “Practical. I didn’t think many would bother teaching the grown-ups.”
“Literacy is important here,” Rava said. “The Lekine value knowledge, and education benefits the whole clan. It’s not a rare thing.”
Vivienne flashed a toothy grin, her sharp features softening with an almost wistful expression. “Funny thing—I almost studied to become a teacher.”
Rava gave her a sidelong glance, her brows lifting in genuine surprise. “Almost?”
“Mm, yeah,” Vivienne murmured, her usual bravado giving way to something quieter. “I went through the whole course, actually. But my anxiety got the better of me. The idea of standing in front of a room full of kids—being responsible for all their learning—it was just... overwhelming.”
Rava blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You, anxious? I can’t imagine you scared of... well, anything. I’ve seen you charge headfirst into battle against creatures that defy nature itself—things that should, by all rights, have torn you apart. And you just devour them.”
“Well, maybe now,” Vivienne admitted, her voice tinged with a melancholy Rava wasn’t used to hearing. “But back then? Death and turning into this... thing I am now—it changes you. Warped my mind in ways I can’t always explain. The things that used to scare me feel so small now.” She shrugged, though her tone was lighter. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it once.”
“I guess so,” Rava said after a moment, her tone thoughtful.
Vivienne tilted her head, the teasing glint returning to her eyes. “So, what’s the plan? Are we breaking in, or do we do this the boring way?”
Rava sighed, her ears twitching slightly. “Front door first. There aren’t any classes right now, but the teacher should still be here.”
Vivienne smirked. “Fine, fine. But if the door’s locked, I’m taking it as a sign we should do things my way.”
Rava ignored her and strode toward the front of the building. Knocking firmly, she waited as footsteps approached from within. The door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged Lekine man with silver-streaked fur and an air of quiet authority. His eyes swept over the pair, lingering a little too long on Vivienne before he straightened.
“Lady Ravanyr,” he greeted with a small bow, his voice steady. “To what do I owe this visit?”
“We’re investigating the recent thefts in the city,” Rava replied, her tone respectful but direct. “We were told slates went missing from your school.”
The teacher sighed, stepping aside and motioning for them to enter. “Come in, then. I’ll tell you what I can. It’s been... an unusual week.”
The interior of the building was simple but functional. Low desks were neatly arranged in rows, and the faint smell of chalk and old wood filled the air. On one wall hung a large slateboard, covered in equations and letters from the last lesson.
“Slates weren’t just stolen,” the teacher began as he shut the door behind them. “Two were broken—shattered right there in the storeroom. The rest are gone without a trace.”
Vivienne ran a claw over the grooves on a desk, her expression curious. “Why slates, though? Doesn’t seem like a hot item on the black market.”
The teacher’s ears twitched. “That’s what I thought, too. At first, I assumed it was a prank—a child being careless. But I found footprints. Bare feet, larger than any of the students here and smaller than the few adults that study here under my teaching.”
Rava frowned. “Anything else missing besides the slates and chalk?”
He shook his head. “No, just those. The footprints vanished near the back garden. I can show you, if it helps.”
Rava nodded. “Please.”
The teacher led them through the school to a small back door that opened onto a modest garden. The ground here was soft, and faint indentations marred the earth.
Vivienne crouched low, her claws brushing the edges of one print. “The footprint is uniform and smooth.” she muttered. “And at that size, definitely not a kid.”
Rava sniffed the air, her sharp senses picking up faint traces of something. “Wood again. And... dye?”
Vivienne grinned. “Our studious mannequin strikes again.”
The teacher blinked in confusion. “Mannequin?”
Rava groaned. “Ignore her.”
Vivienne stood, her grin widening. “No, no. Let’s follow the trail. I’m curious to see if our scholarly thief has expanded its collection to, I don’t know, quills and ink bottles.”
Rava rolled her eyes but motioned for the teacher to step back. “We’ll take it from here. Lock up and stay inside for now.”
The man nodded and retreated into the schoolhouse, the heavy wooden door shutting firmly behind him. As soon as it clicked, Vivienne let out an exaggerated sigh, brushing her claws against her hands as if ridding them of some great labor. “Wood, dye, a trail leading into the unknown—finally, something interesting! Honestly, this might be the most exciting day I’ve had in weeks.”
Rava gave her a flat look, arms crossed. “You killed an aetherwolf three times my height last week, and the week before that, you ate a shadow hydra. You call that boring?”
“Exactly!” Vivienne threw up her hands, her grin stretching wide. “Big, scary monsters are old hat at this point. But a thieving mannequin? Now that’s a story worth telling!”
“It’s not a mannequin,” Rava said, rubbing her temples in exasperation.
Vivienne ignored her, tapping her chin in mock contemplation. “Ah, but consider, my dear Watson! The aether trail it’s leaving is almost too obvious, too deliberate. What if it wants to be caught? What if it’s luring us in, daring us to follow?”
Rava’s tail twitched in annoyance. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
“Brilliant deduction, Watson! That’s why I keep you around,” Vivienne declared, striding off confidently down the alley.
Rava sighed but followed, muttering under her breath, “There’s no reasoning with her.” Still, the infectious energy Vivienne radiated was hard to resist, and against her better judgment, she found herself smirking just a little.
A thieving mannequin, though? Absolutely ridiculous.
As they followed the faint trail, it led them deeper into the artisan quarter. The cobblestones beneath their feet were worn smooth, and the usual bustle of the city faded into a distant hum. Above, lines of laundry crisscrossed the alleys, casting fleeting, angular shadows over their path as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
Rava slowed as they reached an intersection, her sharp nose twitching. She crouched briefly, her ears swiveling. “The scent splits again,” she murmured, gesturing with a clawed hand down a narrower lane that seemed to lead toward a cluster of old workshops. “It’s stronger this way.”
Vivienne, however, tilted her head in the opposite direction. She extended a claw and pointed confidently. “The aether trail heads that way.” Her voice carried an amused lilt. “And might I remind you, aether is a lot harder to mask than scent.”
Rava raised an eyebrow. “And might I remind you, scent can lead you to things that aren’t enchanted distractions?”
Vivienne grinned toothily. “Touché. But let’s consider this: which one is more fun?”
Rava let out a soft growl of irritation, her tail flicking sharply. “This isn’t about fun. We’re chasing a thief, not planning a picnic.”
“Speak for yourself,” Vivienne quipped, crossing her arms. “Personally, I find thieving mannequins fascinating. If this one’s enchanted, I’d rather not miss its grand finale.” She paused dramatically, her eyes gleaming. “Shall we flip a coin?”
Rava straightened, her hands on her hips. “Fine. I’ll follow the scent. You go after the aether trail. If you find our culprit, don’t engage alone. Signal me.”
“Deal,” Vivienne replied breezily, already setting off in her chosen direction. “But for the record, I’ll probably get there first.”
Rava muttered something under her breath before taking the opposite route, her strides purposeful.
The artisan quarter grew even quieter as they split up. The scents Rava tracked seemed to intensify, a mix of wood, dye, and something metallic leading her toward the dimly lit workshops. Meanwhile, Vivienne’s path took her toward a brightly painted building with an open courtyard, where the faint shimmer of aether seemed to thrum in the air like a pulse.
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Rava moved through the narrowing alleys, her sharp senses guiding her unerringly. The scent twisted and turned through the artisan quarter, almost as though it had a mind of its own, lingering at doorways and faintly drifting toward certain stalls. Most of the workshops she passed were dark, their owners having left for the day. Tools hung neatly on pegs, and faint traces of sawdust and paint lingered in the cool air.
She stopped abruptly at a crossroad, where the scent seemed to swirl and dissipate like smoke. Crouching low, she brushed her claws over the faint outline of a footprint. “Still no drag marks,” she murmured. A hint of irritation flickered across her face. “I’ll eat my boot if she’s right.”
Meanwhile, Vivienne meandered along her path, pausing occasionally to prod at the shimmering remnants of aether suspended in the air. Being alone didn’t mean she missed the opportunity to flash a wide grin at everyone she passed. Her sharp teeth caught the light, and the reactions of her unwitting audience seemed to delight her. She had very pretty teeth after all.
She ran a claw lightly along the edge of a wooden doorframe, where the trace of magic was slightly thicker, and leaned in to sniff it.
As she rounded another corner, the aether trail abruptly curved back toward a shadowed lane. Her pace quickened, her eyes gleaming with interest. The air grew heavier, and the taste of aether grew strong and saturated.
Finally, the two trails converged in a small, secluded square tucked between the workshops. A tailor’s shop stood at the far end, its shutters half-closed but slightly ajar. Scattered threads of bright red and gold shimmered faintly against the uneven cobblestones near the doorway.
Rava reached the square first, her sharp eyes scanning the area. She sniffed the air, catching the unmistakable scent of wood and dye mingled with something sharper—ink, maybe. Kneeling beside the loose threads, she carefully picked up a piece of golden silk and examined it.
“Beat you here,” Vivienne’s voice called behind her, light and teasing.
Rava glanced over her shoulder, raising a brow. “You were saying something about getting here first?”
Vivienne strolled up to her, her grin widening as she crouched beside her. “Looks like the trail agrees with me. This place is practically drenched in aether.”
Rava held up the piece of golden silk. “Threads,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Tailor’s shop.”
Vivienne tilted her head, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated thoughtfulness. “So, our mannequin makes its next pit stop. Needles, thread… what’s next? A spinning wheel? Maybe a thimble collection?”
Rava sighed, standing and brushing off her hands. “We’ll check in with the tailor. His shop’s still open, and maybe he’ll have useful details. You…” She paused, giving Vivienne a pointed look. “Just stand near me and look pretty.”
Vivienne gave a mock salute, her grin turning sly. “Yes, ma’am. Radiant beauty at your service.”
Rava straightened as she and Vivienne approached the tailor’s shop. The building was modest but well-kept, its door slightly ajar. The faint scent of wood and dye lingered, along with the sharp tang of ink that prickled at Rava’s senses. Beside her, Vivienne flicked her tongue out briefly, tasting the air like a snake. Her head tilted, her gaze sharpening.
“Definitely aether,” Vivienne muttered, her voice low. “It’s concentrated here. Stronger than before.”
Rava nodded and pushed the door open gently. The small bell above it jingled, and from somewhere inside, they heard the hurried shuffle of footsteps.
A wiry man emerged from the back room, his face pale and his movements jerky. He plastered on a nervous smile, his hands wringing a piece of fabric as he stepped closer. "Oh! Customers—uh, welcome! We're just about to close for the evening." His voice wavered, and his eyes darted between Rava and Vivienne.
Rava's sharp gaze narrowed. “We’re not here to shop. We’re investigating a series of thefts. Your shop seems to be the latest stop.”
The tailor blinked rapidly, his smile faltering. “T-Thefts? Oh dear, that’s terrible. But, uh, I don’t think I can help. Nothing’s missing here. No need for concern!” He edged toward the door, as if ready to usher them out.
Vivienne tilted her head, her claws tapping idly against the counter as she leaned against it. “You’re shaking like you’ve seen a ghost. Is there something you’re not telling us?” Her tone was light, almost playful, but her quintet of eyes gleamed with keen interest.
The tailor swallowed hard, stepping back nervously at the sight of Vivienne's wicked claws. “N-No! No ghosts, no thieves either. Everything’s perfectly fine! Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
Rava stepped forward, her imposing presence cutting off his retreat. “Fine, is it? Then why does the aether trail lead here?”
Vivienne chimed in, her grin growing. “And why do you look like you’re about to faint?” She flicked her tongue again, tasting the air. “I’m guessing something’s in that storeroom of yours. Want to save us the trouble and tell us what?”
The tailor stammered, his face flushing. “Storeroom? Oh, there’s nothing back there! Just some old bolts of fabric, needles, thread—normal things! Absolutely normal things!”
Rava crossed her arms, unmoved. “Move aside.”
“No! I mean—please, there’s no need!” The tailor’s voice cracked, and he held up his hands, a pleading look on his face.
Vivienne pushed off the counter and stalked toward the back room, her claws clicking lightly on the floor. “You’re terrible at this. Just so you know.”
The tailor darted to block her path, his desperation palpable. “Wait! You can’t—there’s—I mean, it’s dangerous!”
Rava and Vivienne exchanged a look.
“Dangerous?” Rava repeated, her tone sharpening. “Explain.”
The tailor hesitated, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “It’s... It’s alive,” he finally whispered, glancing toward the storeroom door. “I don’t know how, but there’s something in there. It—it moved, and please, I don’t want to upset it!” His voice cracked, and he wrung the fabric in his hands as though it could somehow shield him from whatever was lurking in the next room.
Vivienne’s grin widened, her fangs glinting in the dim light. “Oh, now you’ve got my attention,” she said, her tone equal parts mockery and intrigue. She flexed her claws, clearly relishing the prospect of a confrontation.
Rava pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. “Stay here,” she instructed the trembling tailor, her tone firm. “We’ll handle it.”
The man nodded vigorously, retreating toward the counter like a scolded child. “Just... please don’t let it destroy anything else,” he mumbled, glancing nervously at the storeroom door as if it might burst open at any moment.
Rava turned to Vivienne, who was already licking her lips in exaggerated anticipation. They exchanged a glance—Rava’s was all business, Vivienne’s an unrestrained mixture of amusement and excitement. Together, they stepped toward the storeroom.
The faint sounds of rustling grew louder as they approached. A creak of wood, followed by the soft thunk of something being moved, emanated from within. Rava’s sharp ears twitched, and she caught the faint scent of wood shavings and dye, mixed with the tang of residual aether. Vivienne, meanwhile, flicked her tongue out briefly, tasting the thick swirl of magic hanging in the air like a veil.
“If this is our mannequin,” Vivienne whispered, her voice low and conspiratorial, “I’m officially naming it.”
“Focus on catching it first,” Rava muttered. Her hand rested on the edge of the door, which was slightly ajar. With a practiced motion, she nudged it open.
The storeroom was dimly lit, the faint glow of twilight seeping through a narrow window high on the wall. Shelves lined with fabric bolts and jars of thread framed the space, though their once meticulous order had been disrupted, with spools and scraps scattered haphazardly across the floor. In the center of the room stood a mannequin, its wooden form draped in tattered white fabric that hung like a shroud. A crude stitch ran down the length of its face, giving it a haunting semblance of a scar, and it wore a dilapidated dress, its frayed edges whispering of a time when it might have been elegant. The mannequin's posture was unnervingly human, one arm raised and bent as though it had been frozen mid-motion, its painted eyes staring blankly ahead.
Rava’s eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze on the mannequin. “There it is,” she murmured, her voice low and steady.
Vivienne tilted her head, her quintet of eyes gleaming with fascination. “I was right!” she exclaimed in delight, amusement curling at the edges of her voice. “I was very right. You owe me. I won the bet”
The mannequin’s head tilted sharply in their direction without warning, the motion unnervingly smooth. Its painted eyes seemed to focus on them with uncanny intent, the faint glimmer of light from the window casting eerie shadows across its stitched face.
Vivienne let out a delighted laugh, clapping her claws together. “Oh, this is way better than I imagined!” she exclaimed, her tone brimming with excitement.
Before Rava could respond, the mannequin jerked to life, its movements unsettlingly fluid yet mechanical. It bent low and, in a single smooth motion, snatched up a small box of spools. With the prize in hand, it darted toward the high window, its ragged dress fluttering in its wake.
“Not so fast!” Rava growled, lunging forward with predatory grace.
Vivienne moved in tandem, her clawed hand sweeping down to block the mannequin’s path. “You’re not going anywhere, wooden wonder!” she declared with a grin, her fangs flashing.
The mannequin hesitated for a split second, its painted expression unchanging, before abruptly shifting direction. It veered toward a nearby shelf stacked precariously high with fabric bolts and supplies. Without a moment’s pause, it shoved against the shelving, toppling the entire structure toward its pursuers.
Rava reacted instantly, ducking into a roll as the avalanche of fabric and supplies crashed around her. “It’s more coordinated than it looks!” she shouted, frustration lacing her words.
Vivienne leaped gracefully over the falling shelves, landing lightly on her feet. She spread her arms theatrically, claws glinting in the dim light. “That’s what makes this fun!” she shot back, her voice alive with exhilaration.
The mannequin darted toward the opposite corner, its wooden limbs moving with eerie efficiency. Vivienne launched herself after it, her laugh echoing in the confined space as the chase escalated. Rava, determined but less amused, moved with precision, her every step calculated as they worked to corner the animated figure.
It then reached the corner and sprang upward with a startling agility, landing atop a stack of fabric bolts. Its wooden frame barely made a sound as it perched there, momentarily out of reach.
“Quick, isn’t it?” Vivienne said with a grin, her claws digging into the floor as she prepared to pounce.
“Just corner it,” Rava growled, her eyes scanning for the best approach. She lunged to the left while Vivienne darted right, the two closing in with synchronized precision.
The mannequin didn’t wait. It leapt again, twisting midair with a grace that belied its stiff frame. Landing on a narrow shelf, it kicked off and soared toward the shutters on the far wall. The sound of its wooden feet against the beams was a rapid staccato, like the drumming of a heartbeat.
“Where is it getting this coordination?” Rava muttered as she pivoted, already moving to intercept.
Vivienne was faster, vaulting over an upended table and swiping at the mannequin with her claws. She came within a hair’s breadth of snagging its tattered dress, but the mannequin twisted its torso unnaturally, evading her grasp with an unsettling flexibility.
“Cheeky little thing!” Vivienne shouted, her tone equal parts frustration and glee.
The mannequin reached the shutters, gripping the edges with its smooth, cloth-wrapped hands. With a burst of strength, it shoved them open, light flooding into the dim storeroom. For a moment, it clung there, framed by the glow, like some bizarre, makeshift acrobat.
“Don’t you dare—” Rava began, but it was too late. The mannequin vaulted through the opening, flipping once in the air before landing on the cobblestones outside with a soft thud.
Rava and Vivienne reached the window just in time to see the figure dart into the shadows of the alley, its movements quick and purposeful.
“Did… did that thing just flip out of here?” Vivienne asked, leaning against the windowsill with a breathless laugh. “This is officially the best chase I’ve ever been on.”
Rava shot her an exasperated glare before scanning the alley. The scent trail was already fading, mingling with the other scents of the artisan quarter. “We can’t let it get too far. We follow.”
Vivienne cracked her knuckles, her grin returning. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
They turned and bolted for the shop’s exit, the tailor gaping as they sped past him. The hunt was far from over.