Aetherology classes had become hell for Iris, but every waking moment Caynes wasn’t in her immediate field of vision was even worse.

Caynes. The six letters spelt out in Morse code, a signal for help hidden under layers of music. They now dominated her head from the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep, sometimes even denying her the precious time in between.

She wanted to blame him for everything; strike now and forget the rest. It was increasingly difficult to discern if those thoughts were her own or of the Spirit inside her.

The pencil snapped in her hand, rousing the dead-quiet room halfway through jotting down a dictation. The atmosphere churned momentarily, but Iris ignored it, keeping her head down.

“Is everything all right?” Caynes’s voice called from the front of the class. “Iris?”

She nodded slowly, unable to lock eyes with him.

“Well. That’s time. If you didn’t finish, feel free to ask me after class. Does anyone have any questions?”

The room was dead quiet. It turned out that children her age vehemently refused to ask or answer questions lest they stuck out, but the atmosphere had grown another notch more uncomfortable. Without Crestana present, no one could pretend that the day before had never happened.

But Iris raised her hand, unsure of what exactly to say, but only knowing she needed to release her pressure valve. All she sincerely wanted was to prod him somehow, get some snippet of an excuse to tackle him to the ground then and there.

“Yes, Iris?” Caynes asked from his desk, his attention split between her and a tome in his left hand.

“Do you know about Sigils, sir?”

Even with the lack of facial expressions, Caynes seemed taken aback. He moved from his desk and to the blackboard. “Sigils? Taboo magic? Sure, I know a thing or two about them, why?”

“I…read about them somewhere, sir.”

Caynes scoffed. “You must have some stellar library access for a junior high schooler,” he said, leaning over his shoulder and checking out of the hallway. “They’re taboo for a reason but…well, it can’t hurt.”

He took a piece of chalk and began to etch a heading into the blackboard behind him. ‘Taboo magic,’ it said in rough capital letters.

“There are several types of this magic in the world of Aetherology, and often even mentioning them positively, let alone practising them, will see you excluded from most academic circles, if not have your entire reputation de-legitimised. The dictionary definition defines them as any magic that takes control away from the Spirit.”

Caynes stepped forward, each foot hanging in the air for a moment too long.

“Sigils write magic without any need for a Spirit, essentially creating a replica Spirit in itself, like bacteria in a laboratory. Aether infusion was considered taboo until laws were enforced to throttle any…irresponsible use.”

He stopped at the back of the class and turned around, shutting the book closed in a small plume of dust and rotting paper.

“And, of course, the most famous example, the Wizard and the Witch, the very definition of why taboo magic is considered taboo. There’s the old saying of a Spirit’s pride and a human’s greed. These forms of magic arise when the latter transgresses on the former.”

He walked forward and turned to Iris, looking apologetic. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you without getting fired. It’s a touchy subject, unfortunately. Any other questions?”

Nobody raised their hands. Not even Iris.

“Good. Now next—”

The bell’s shrill screech stopped Caynes mid-sentence. Flustered, he looked into the air as though a fly were circling his head. “Goodness. All right, the last one will be for homework, page twenty of the textbook. Dismissed!”

One by one, the students left the classroom at varying speeds and enthusiasm. The girls who normally hung by Crestana’s desk left shortly after the sporty boys. With nothing left to anchor them to the room, they filed out just like everybody else.

Iris was left with Caynes, who somehow whistled through his voice box as he packed his belongings into a single pile. Hauling it under his arm, he began to head for the door.

“Staying, Iris?” Caynes asked, half his body already exiting the room. “Do you have anyone else to spend your lunches with?”

Iris shook her head.

“Well, it’s always nice to spend some time alone, but I can’t recommend only keeping one friend.”

The words entered one ear and left out the other; meaningless grovel was all it amounted to.

He lied. Everything was a lie. Iris was sure of it. Silver-tongued, snake-faced. The use of words was an invention of civilisation, but tone and body language, those were something she could read, like writing on the wall.

That writing was written in blood, telling her to trust her dreams and recall their stories. Caynes was there too, in the same place if not at the same time. He was one of the crystal cave’s guardians. Iris saw no other explanation.

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“Crestana’s mum,” Iris said, catching onto Caynes like tugging a dog’s leash.

Caynes stepped back into the room.

“What about Mrs Mallorine?” Caynes asked, slowly placing his things down on the desk.

“Did you know her?”

“Did I know her?” Caynes repeated, taking a moment to feign a ponder. “Well, yes. We were more or less acquainted. Why?”

“What was she like?” Iris asked, desperately swallowing down the most accusatory questions.

Caynes placed his hands on the desk and tilted his head; the flames of runes never lost their orientation. “Any reason these questions are so personal? I’m your Aetherology teacher, not your Ms Mallorine teacher.”

Iris wordlessly pressed on, egging him to continue playing the clueless character; the more words, the more chances to let something slip.

Caynes sighed, giving in. “She was a very beautiful woman in an untouchable sense. I’ve noticed Crestana carries a similar demeanour but not to the same extent.” Pausing, he chose his words with care.

“She seemed…forlorn whenever I talked to her, as though she wasn’t altogether there. Distant from our world. I don’t know if that was by choice or…whatever the alternative to that is.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me today, officer?”

Iris bit down on her tongue, afraid her questions could backfire and reveal more about herself than him.

Caynes slapped the desk and pushed himself off. “Well, if that about does it,” he said, turning to the blackboard and grabbing the eraser. He took to the heading near the top, wiping away the ever-present title that hung over Iris’s life like a spectre.

Caynes sighed as he returned the eraser to its spot and retrieved his things. “Take care of yourself, Iris. Most of the time that’s about all you can do these days.”

Evalyn knew, in theory, not to rinse the solvents off her guns with water during winter’s coldest nights, but her muscle memory proved a lot less adaptable than she had hoped.

“There’s nothing here,” Colte said as Evalyn racked the frosty slide of her pistol back and forth. “In this city, I mean.”

Evalyn grunted, placing the gun back on the desk next to the mounds of police paperwork she'd sunk her morning into. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she stretched her back, hearing her spine pop and crackle like pork skin.

“Not a single lead,” Colte continued as Evalyn watched him scan over another file through his reading glasses.

“Don’t hunch, you’ll ruin your back.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he replied, stretching his upper body with a single slow motion. “I’m starting to feel it, unfortunately.”

“That makes two of us,” Evalyn lamented as she leaned into her chair. “So there is no registry.”

“None in writing. Best I could find were different variations of ‘I remember this one person’. Did the East Excala Library get those prints you sent them?”

“About five days ago now. There was a fax machine in an uptown public library. Can’t speak to the quality of the prints, but if there’s even a sliver of luck I haven’t used up yet—”

The bedside telephone began to ring.

“That should be him now.”

Evalyn stood and walked over, her feet wobbling under the repercussions of many sedentary hours.

“Hello. Hardridge speaking.”

“Evalyn! How are ya?” Al asked, his thick accent oozing through the phone. It was too colloquial for a Prince.

“Those photographs, have you taken a look?”

“I wouldn’t be calling you if I hadn’t. Is this line secure?”

“Yes,” Evalyn said, chuckling at the spy novel phrase uttered so seriously. “Colte set up an Aether line telephone when we first got here.”

“Okay…,” Al said, voice laden with blatant scepticism. “Whatever you sent me was a real nasty piece of work, by the way.”

“The prints? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, the resident expert I have deciphering it is having a decently tough time. Says it’s probably the hardest she’s ever tried to decipher.”

“So our man’s been around the block, then.”

“More than once. We were able to break down and decipher four larger components. First is the dome. Important, but doesn’t tell us anything new. Second is human over Spirit, same story. The third component is interesting. Based on the articles and the reports I’ve read, I assumed it’d be some sort of kill and dissolve the bodies, one-two-punch combo.”

“Terrible wording, but go on.”

“But it turns out it’s transportation. Like Warper magic. They’re being taken somewhere.”

“Taken where?”

“We don’t know. The fourth component is location, but the designation makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Find it, and we could take this whole thing apart in a day.”

“Yes…oh, and another thing.”

“What?”

Al ruffled his feathers. “My expert says that she’s seen something similar before.”

“Really? Where?”

“Two years ago, photos were taken from a murder incident from overseas. Actually, let me…Patricia! Patricia can you come here for a sec!”

Evalyn held as a distant pair of footsteps emerged from the dull background static. Someone fumbled with the phone receiver before a woman’s voice came through the phone.

“Hello?”

“Could you tell me where you’ve seen the Sigil before?”

“Not the exact one,” the Aetherologist explained, “but there’s something in the way they cross their t’s and dot their i’s that strikes me as similar.”

“To a missing person’s case, yes. Do you remember anything about it?”

“The mark was found on the body’s clothes with no identification to go with it. Apparently, only some village folk recognised him after the police started circulating pictures. A Geheret, Spirit of Records that was employed as the local school’s Aetherology teacher.”

“What was his name?”

“I don’t exactly remember that far—”

“Caynes?”

“…yes. Yes, that’s right. His name was Caynes.”

Evalyn pursed her lips. “Thank you.”

She slammed the receiver onto the hook and immediately picked it back up again.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Caynes. The name written in Morse that Iris found the other day. It’s a stolen identity, taken from someone killed with a Sigil.”

Evalyn finished dialling the new number. “Might not be enough for a court of law, but it is for me. Yes, operator, international call, please.”

“So what’s his motive? Why would he get close to the people he wants to destroy it’s like he’s trying to do two things at once.”

“Excala please,” Evalyn said before turning to Colte. “Don’t forget he’s a reverend for a cult; there’s an ideological angle to this. Yes, East Excala residential, Maxwell.”

“I guess we can ask him in a holding cell.”

“Elliot, Caynes is a fake identity of some dead schoolteacher in the middle of nowhere. He’s who we’re looking for, so warn the client. Tell Marie while you’re at it and phone East Excala. Get the evidence and, I don’t know, get a search warrant. Just do it quickly…love you.”

Evalyn slammed the receiver down on the phone again before storming off, the thought of Iris fuelling newfound urgency in her steps.

“Book a fight; we need to leave. Now.”

“I think Evalyn’s coming back,” Elliot said, dialling another number into the phone. “But Caynes is the artist; we need to get Crestana to a safe place. She hasn’t been at school, hasn’t she?”

“No,” Iris said. “But Caynes has access to the house.”

“How?”

“Crestana mentioned they hold sermons there. Crap.”

Iris bolted from her breakfast for the front door and pulled on her boots.”

“Iris! Stay here until I—”

“I’ll find a payphone!” Iris shouted as she unlocked the door and ran outside.