The Andros pulled into port at Mirage and William disembarked glumly from his place of work.

Everything had fallen into place as of this last trip on the sandsailor. He now knew everything that he needed to know in order to find out what it was that had been getting under his skin about Mirage since he’d been brought into its embrace from the Wastes. It’d taken him time and careful planning, asking all the right questions to all the right people, and now he had it all. It was time to act.

Teutna had other plans for him, though she didn’t know it. As far as she knew William didn’t have any plans and would be perfectly content to go along with what his captain told him to do. The black haired young man usually did at any rate. That was why when she disembarked off of the ship to which she was captain with much of the rest of her crew following suit, she was quick to call after her little Songbird, as she’d come to start referring to him. “Rally-ho, William! Halt yer march!” she boomed after him.

William stopped, reluctantly, and turned around to face the stout woman with bushy hair as she caught up to him.

“Where are you off to this time? The apartment in West One you’re ne’er in for long? Off to visit your friends Joscur and Daniellex? Or are you finally gonna come tag along with me to Scarlet Boulevard so’s I can see what kinda ningen you are?” Teutna asked in rapid succession, playfully barreling her fist into William’s shoulder and laughing. She’d been trying to get William to accompany her to the reddest part of Mirage for weeks now, and each time he’d either barely acknowledged her requests or politely refused. She was, as of yet, pretty well convinced her Songbird was a virgin!

“I have some things I need to take care of. Odds and ends I need to buy,” William lied dismissively, turning and starting to walk once more.

Teutna chose to be persistent and trotted alongside him. “Oh aye? With what gems, might I ask? We both know I hardly pay ye!” She chortled some more. William remained quiet and continued to walk.

“Listen, Songbird,” she tried again, changing tact when she saw that her little joke wasn’t hitting the mark like she’d wanted it to. “Iffen you’re right fussed about me nickname for ye, I apologize! Truth is I’ve rarely seen the crew of the Andros in such good spirits as when you be teachin’ ‘em songs, so I’s figures it were a good fit! Kin it?”

“It’s not the nickname,” William said curtly. By now other members of the Andros were catching up to the two of them. Some were singing as they approached, a song William had taught them of course, and the anxious eidolon could hear the chorus clearly as they approached:

Don’t haul on the rope!

Don’t climb up the mast!

And if you see a sailin’ ship

It might be your last!

Just get your civies ready

For another run ashore!

A sailor ain’t a sailor ain’t a sailor anymore!

“Is it the prospect of bein’ with a scarlet lady then?” Teutna asked, seeing no reason not to test her theory now. She hadn’t brought it up before then in order to be polite, but politeness could only hold back curiosity for so long. “Don’t tell me it’s your first time or else I’ll drag ye to the Boulevard myself! Stuff your scruffy head ‘neath me arm and toss you on the first natator I see I will!”

“It’s not that. I’ve been to bed with others before,” William said, grinning despite his mood.

“Oh, rally-ho! Now there’s a story I’ve not heard from you!” the Andros’ captain chirped excitedly, giving her Songbird another playful shove of the shoulder. “Can hardly ever get ye to speak about yourself! Here I was thinkin’ you’d never gotten your harpoon wet! So fess up; who was the lucky ningen, eh? I hardly ever hear gossip for which I care but with you I’m insatiable!”

“That’s really not important right now, captain,” William told her. The grin was gone again.

Teutna could tell that she was knocking on a wall and so once again tried to coax William into social activity with a different approach. “At least come and share a round of drink with the crew and I. Shopping can wait until after that, surely?” she asked. “Don’t make me order you now, Songbird!”

William had had enough. “Some other time,” he told her flatly and that was the end of it. Now well within Mirage proper and walking on the stained glass streets, William turned to the right and departed in the general direction of his apartment while Teutna chose to walk on, catching up to the other members of the Andros who had been singing past them earlier. She hadn’t wanted to leave William like that. Teutna had a very strong sense of taking care of her own and did her best to make sure that everyone under her charge was looked after. She’d wanted to go after William and press him into either relenting and coming with her to relax after a hard three days’ work, or, barring that, have him confess what had been bothering him for the last day and a half or so. Instead she found herself choosing to call ahead to the darker skinned ningen in her employ and bidding them slow down. Very quickly she forgot that she’d even wanted to pursue William, so caught up she the present moment and generally carrying on with life.

William hated making that choice for her. Teutna seemed like such a nice lady. Daniellex would have loved her he suspected.

Nice or not, tonight was important in ways she could not imagine. While she and the Andros’ crew were choosing a bar and what jokes and barbs to sling at each other, William was going through it all in his head. One last time before he followed the spiral of truth where it would lead.

This is what he had learned over the past month:

There were fake buildings within Mirage. This was not such an uncommon thing. Many cities have always had false structures, designed to appear lived in or otherwise inhabited, that, in actuality, conceal a hollow shell within which lays entry ways to sewers, machina for power generation, entrances to tunnels or, perhaps, very rarely, something worthy of conspiracy. Naturally Mirage had some number of all of these things. William had learned about the false buildings from one of the crewmates of the Andros when he had asked where the metals that they used magnetic nets to gather from the Wastes were taken for processing.

“The animunculi take them beneath Mirage and deal with them there,” they had told William. “There’s whole buildings underground that deal with that sort of thing. A lot of the sand whales we hunt are processed below so that people do not have to deal with the smell, I suspect.”

Despite the seemingly innocuous answer to this question William understood the significance of the answer and how it related to the nightly raids.

He’d asked about them indirectly at first and had only learned about them after getting answers about the patrolling ornithopters. It turned out that they had not always been an omnipresent presence within Mirage but had been introduced around five years or so ago. When he had asked why, and he had asked several people, no one was able to give him a direct, knowledgeable answer. Some people had suggested that they were an added security measure to keep an eye on reavers of reauslers out in the Wastes. Others seemed to be convinced that they had been made to have them patrol about so that the Empire could keep a close eye on Mirage. When asked for a reason why, no one who believed this could give a solid, feasible answer. The one thing that everyone agreed upon was that the ornithopters became necessary, and indeed welcome, around five years back, when the nightly raids had started.

The posters, too, had started to appear when the raids started. One part public service announcement, one part propaganda, they were pasted up in order to remind people of the necessity of the ornithopters. A necessary sacrifice of privacy for the sake of protection. A comforting lie.

Facilities for processing sand whales and minuscule shards of metal and sewers were not the only things hidden beneath Mirage.

William had come across a ningen who was drunk on one of the occasions that he had agreed to spend time after work with Teutna and gotten a drink and dinner with her and the others. Noticing the man sitting by himself, William had departed from the crew of the Andros and spoken with the solo drinker. Conversation came hesitantly but easily between the two of them and it didn’t take long for William to ingratiate himself with the man. They’d talked about many things that were ultimately inconsequential. Just bits of polite conversation with one another that became much more significant when the topic of the city’s clepsydras had come up.

“It is my job to tend to them, you know,” the man had said with a tone of subdued pride on his voice. “To keep the time, keep the city hydrated, the clepsydras must be maintained. It is a great honor to be one of the engineers that makes sure the lifeblood of Mirage freely flows!”

“You don’t act like it’s a great honor,” William noted, mostly referring to the location in which they found themselves talking. It was the sort of establishment near docks where a sailor could spend a few quartz and a citrine and get a warm meal and a hardy drink. Not especially good on either account, but for those who had been out in the Wastes for days on end it was an establishment where you could get loud and rowdy and no one would bother you about it. The sort of place that you wouldn’t expect an engineer to frequent.

“I am just tired,” the ningen said dismissively. “It is just as hard work being under the ground all night as it is being out in the Wastes, you know. It is a different sort of hard, but hard all the same.”

“Hard how?”

“Well, not seeing daylight often takes its toll,” he began, taking a sip from his drink. “And it is all so complicated! There is much to keep track of, much you have to know to make sure it is all running properly! We take it in shifts, though, we engineers. Day and nights, making sure the water is flowing freely and cleanly, that the machina are tuned correctly so that it is accurate with the time. Then there is the walking – oh! The walking! People do not realize what a maze it is underneath the streets! Most people will never see it, but I see it every day! I know where to go and where not to go and can make my way to every clepsydra blindfolded!”

The pride was back in his voice, but that wasn’t what William had latched onto. He’d chosen to say something important just then without realizing it. Something that didn’t fit.

“Where not to go? Are there places you aren’t allowed to enter?” William inquired.

“Oh, sure. We are supposed to avoid the sewers, for starters. Any of those facilities where they process sand whales or metal from the Wastes, gems, that sort of thing. And… well…”

He went quiet. William pressed.

“Yes? Where else?”

The man looked down into his drink and gave it a swirl before taking a large gulp of it. “We are not supposed to talk about it,” he said flatly, no longer making eye contact with William.

“Why? Is it related to the ornithopters?”

“More like the ornithopters are related to…” Again he paused. Looking at William, the black haired young man could see that the ningen across from him wanted to tell him something. He just needed a little bit of a push…

“The nightly raids?” William asked, voice low.

The ningen leaned forward and gestured for William to do the same.

“You are still a stranger here, and a wellerman. It cannot be expected of you to know such things, and most would just as soon leave you ignorant, but…” He gave a quick look around as if suspicious of someone listening in on him or looking his way. His voice grew yet smaller in the space between the two of them. “There are places you are not supposed to go in Mirage. Wellermen, like yourself, are not meant to go beneath the streets, Natator Tower has sections locked off for machina engineers and the like. You have noticed this?”

William nodded. It was part of what had been tickling the back of his neck about Mirage. The people here either seemed content to stick to certain portions of the deemed ‘appropriate’ for them to be or simply did not ever wander off where they weren’t supposed to go. In a place like Damocles, there would be sections of the city where the youth would go to escape notice, such as there were in every city. Not in Mirage. Even though she was blind, Marisia had never once been invited by Kara to go hang out in a location that wasn’t public other than Kara’s dwelling. He’d confirmed this himself a little over a week ago when he’d last visited Joscur and his family.

“People in Mirage know not to go where they do not belong because we have learned the hard way to do so! Used to be that people would avoid leaving the city and going out into the Wastes unless it was necessary, but this changed five years ago.”

“When the ornithopters came?”

“No, before!” the man said, giving another look around and scooting his seat closer to William so that he could speak even quieter. “The nightly raids… what do you know about this?”

“Very little.”

“They started five years back and ended almost as soon. Every night for months, people would simply vanish! Never to be seen again! If you asked about it, you ended up vanished, too! Worse, yet, were the monsters -”

“Monsters?” William had interrupted.

“Oh yes. Not like the geists or reauslers, no. Something much fouler, more evil! If you asked about them, you would end up missing, too! Many were taken away for seemingly no more reason than that! Homes, emptied! Blood on broken glass in the streets! Only for the street to be repaired. The elder council would not speak of it, told us all that they would look into it and solve the problems! They would not say where these attacks were coming from, who was doing it, why it was happening!”

The ningen sat back and took another drink, speaking a bit louder again. “And then the ornithopers and animunculi came and became mainstays in Mirage, and the raids stopped. Just like that, seemingly overnight, and we all collectively agreed not to speak of it again…”

“What did these monsters look like?” William pushed.

“No one could agree,” the ningen said, shaking his head. “Some said they were massive, hulking brutes! Others thin and long-limbed. Fanged, clawed, tailed – I have heard a dozen or so ways that they were described. No one who saw them got a clear view it seemed… Well, those that saw them and lived, anyway.”

Almost there, William could feel it. “Where did they come from?”

Another look of suspicion around. He leaned back in towards William.

“There are places we are not meant to go in Mirage, many of them because you do not belong. Wellermen do not go where clepsydra engineers work, clepsydra engineers do not step into the metal processing plants, areas in Natator Tower are inaccessible without permission. But there is only one place that I know of that is meant to be hidden…”

William passed the man his own drink to encourage him to keep going. The ningen took the mug and sipped from it. There was no pride left in his voice now. Only a look of enthrallment, excitement even. The sort of mad, devious eyes you gave when you were telling someone a secret they weren’t supposed to know about but you deemed they ought to know regardless.

“I know how to get to every clepsydra in this city under the streets. It is part of my job to know. I know which tunnels lead to which clepsydras, which ones lead to sand whales, to metal, to sewers. There are some tunnels, though, which I have never been down. Where I do not know where they go to precisely, but, you know what I believe? I believe that they all head towards the center – Natator Tower! And I will tell you what else I believe; I believe that the only place in Mirage that those – things – could have come from, and vanished back to, are down those tunnels! Some dark part of me has wanted to go and see for myself what lies in wait in the shadows there, but we all learned five years ago, did we not? There are some places in Mirage where you are not meant to go… but I will tell you something else!”

He paused again, only long enough to take another drink. Now his eyes were suspicious as he wandered away from facts which he knew to be absolute into the murky territory of conspiracy.

“I have seen things down those tunnels before. Not monsters or ornithopters, no, but! But! I tell you, I have seen: members of the city guard. Patrolling. Guarding. What could they be guarding down there, hm? What is there to watch over down below?”

‘What indeed,’ thought William.

All of this had been interesting to William to learn about, but none of it had particularly stuck out to him as something that was an eidolon’s business in the grand scheme of things. Eidolons had a sense about these sorts of things. A funny feeling as it were. Something which informed them like the eruption of a volcano that some detail was vitally important in one way or another. They might not always be obvious as to why, or even when, they become important, but they all sense it none the less when they encounter it. Propaganda, false buildings, a mass surveillance network, secret tunnels where no one but the city guard was ever seen going into, tales of monsters – none of this had made that funny feeling trigger in William. None of it seemed like the sort of thing that the Dandy Man or Mr. Wink would want him looking into…

All of that changed a day and a half ago.

The Andros and his crew were making a delivery to Dragon’s Perch. Something which William had partaken in about a dozen times at this point. Crates filled with the processed, refined, and smelted ingots of various metals that they, and other wellermen like them, had gathered from the Wastes were being lowered over the side of the ship with the help of an attachable extension to the sandsailor that they periodically employed when deliveries of these sorts which acted as a crane and pulley system were being deposited one by one onto natator-like machina which hovered and were designed for carrying heavy loads. William was on the deck of the Andros and manually working the ropes which lowered the crates with the help of three other ningen. Teutna was down off the side of the ship and speaking with an individual who was stood beneath an umbrella, wore a set of dark lenses, and was fanning themselves with an ostentatiously large hand fan adorned with the feathers of exotic birds. Off in the distance in the Wastes, dutifully being ignored by everyone except William, who chose to focus on it, was a geist. It seemed to be watching them as they worked.

“I’m telling you, the demand for metal is only going to increase in the coming months, if not years!” the bloodling beneath the shade commented dryly to the captain of the Andros. He was a pudgy individual whose most prominent feature would be their pot belly if it wasn’t for the thin black hair greased and combed back against his skull. He gave the impression that the ornate clothing he chose to sweat in was meant to disguise one of these two features, if not both of them. “Before long, why, this may well be the only cargo which you Mirage wellermen will deliver to me!”

Teutna had never had any particular problems with bloodlings. All the ones she’d ever met had been exceptionally polite, even passive. This one, though, made her stomach turn just a little bit. It wasn’t anything in particular about him, except, of course, the ‘mustache’ he sported, which was really just a twin pair of pencil thin triangles at either extreme of his upper lip with nothing in between, below, or beside. She found the choice revolting.

“Whatever it is the Empire requires, wellermen like us will be there to deliver,” she replied noncommittally. As captain, it was her job to speak to men like this and make sure that pick ups and deliveries went smoothly for all parties involved. She never the less tried to say as little as possible when dealing with this one in particular. Unfortunately for her, he was a talker.

“Yes, well, with brothers warring, at each other’s throats, there will be no shortage of metal required! Weapons, armor, machina. The animunculi have declared neutrality in the whole thing, you know. Did so right in the imperial palace, so I’m told, immediately after Emperor Mordred was crowned! Can you imagine the impunity? The ill timing! They could have at least waited until the guests had left. What would a couple of hours be in the grand scheme of things? It would have only been polite!” The bloodling paused momentarily to squint up at the sky from beneath his umbrella and behind his spectacles. His fanning increased in intensity. “Goodness, the heat is unbearable today…”

“Heh, rally-ho! That be life in the Wastes for ye,” Teutna said with a smirk, amused at the bloodling’s discomfort while she herself stood in the open desert sun.

“Indeed… where was I? Ah, yes, the metal. I tell you, Captain Teutna, things haven’t been this busy on either side of the Empire for quite some time. Quite some time indeed! Why, I can scarcely think of a time during Emperor Gawain’s rule when things were quite so abuzz. Except, perhaps, five years ago, when shipments were being reversed. Do you recall that, Captain?”

“Nay,” she replied. She was trying to ignore the bloodling at this point.

“Yes, well, ‘reversed’ may be the wrong word here. It wasn’t as if we were sending things back to Mirage, but more that there was an abundance of things being sent to Mirage for a change! Of course you wellermen are always receiving shipments of food and water for emergency storage, necessities of living in the desert, you know, that sort of thing, but I distinctly remember that we were handing off shipments of glass and metal as well! Things created on the mainland or Golem’s Isle, if memory serves. Busy, busy, busy we were! Yes, indeed. This civil war has got things feeling much like they did then. Oh, if only that wonderful lad Lucifer would show his face again! Now there was a ningen worth his salt!”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

All while they’d been talking, the crew of the Andros could hear the loud and boisterous voice of the bloodling. Many of them got the impression that he didn’t realize how loud he was being, and William, of course, was more focused on the geist off in the distance – that is until that name had been used. Lucifer. They’d managed to lower three crates down over the side of the Andros up until that point but the instant that the name reached his ears William froze in place, head snapping to look down at the bloodling as he spoke.

“William! Steady on!” one of his crewmates said behind him, but William was no longer interested in the work of the Andros. There it was again; that funny feeling.

Even as the ningen were yelling at him, William was rushing over towards the net that cascaded over the side of the sandsailor, practically leaping down to the sand dusted ground below while another crewmate rushed forward to take his place at the rope, preventing the collapse of a crate of metal ingots. The jostling of the newly refined metals as they shifted in the falling container caught the attention of both the bloodling and Teutna, the former of which looked on at the crate with surprise and confusion, the latter eyeing the black haired Songbird with furrowed brows as he marched over towards she and he.

“What be the meaning of this, Songbird?” she demanded to know, her voice firm. William ignored her, getting between her and the bloodling who looked into the gray eyes of William with glistening cheeks. His obscured eyes had gone to the sword at William’s hip before meeting his gaze.

“That name – say it again,” William demanded.

“What is the meanin’ of this?” Teutna demanded in return, frowning deeply. She wasn’t accustomed to being ignored. Much less so from William of all of her crew, who she had come to expect docile placidity from.

“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand,” the bloodling said, clutching his umbrella tighter and turning his sweaty face towards Teutna, looking for guidance.

“The name of the ningen you said was worth his salt,” William clarified, having to raise his voice over Teutna to be heard. She was actively chewing him out.

“You’ve abandoned your post you have! Do ye kin that, Songbird? Do I need to remind ye of yer place on my ship!?”

“What was the name?”

“Why, Lucifer,” the bloodling croaked. “Most well delightful ningen I’ve ever met out of Mirage. Insatiably curious, always ready for a good conversation, very professional. Always made sure the deliveries he received were up to snuff.”

“When did you first meet Lucifer?” William said flatly, wrenching his arm out of Teutna’s grip as she tried to pull him aside. This simple gesture of defiance was so out of character for William in her mind that it managed to rob the wind from her sails and left her standing there for a moment in befuddled silence.

“I’m quite certain I don’t remember the actual date. Five years ago? Six? Sometime after that creature was discovered.”

“What creature?”

“I… I truly don’t know! That wasn’t something which he was very talkative about. The uh… most I gathered was that he and a few others had found something new out in the Wastes, and they needed equipment to study its corpse.”

“WILLIAM!” Teutna roared, gripping his elbow and forcing him to turn and face her. Even so, his head was the last time to turn in her direction and look down at the captain. She’d been repeating his name and trying to get his attention for the past few moments. He’d ignored her.

“Return to your post! I’ll be havin’ words with ye once we’re done here! Say nothin’ but ‘yes mum’ and get back on me ship!” she growled, staring him down unflinchingly. She’d never seen his expression as hard and defiant as it was in that moment.

“Yes, mum,” William replied quietly, turning away from the both of them and heading back over to the anchored net. Captain Teutna watched him leave, tight lipped, worried about what had just happened because she did not understand it.

Over the next day and a half as they ventured back towards Mirage, pulling double duty by dragging the magnetic net behind the ship to gather more metallic minerals, Teutna had tried to speak with William about what had happened at Dragon’s Perch. She’d preached about insubordination, warned him about stepping out of line, how such things were unacceptable, how it was dangerous behavior for everyone aboard a sandsailor. Just the sort of thing that she’d used kinder words to tell him during his initial days of service aboard her ship. Her Songbird had quietly and politely answered, “Yes, mum,” to each one of her statements and questions. He gave only half answers when prodded about his behavior. He was being evasive, passive, dismissive, and with a sandsailor to mind and a crew of fifteen to make sure arrived back to their homes safely, she had fairly quickly stowed the questions. She had planned, instead, in her idle moments, to take William to the Scarlet Boulevard or, at the very least, get him liquored up and try to ask him again.

The name was the last piece of the puzzle William needed to deem the mystery of what lay beneath Mirage worth looking into. A name like that – Lucifer – was iconic. Painfully so. Obvious in origin yet foreign nearly anywhere. A name which was periodically chosen along with a handful of others – Mephistopheles, Chernebog, Hades, Mephisto, Seth, and so forth – as a calling card and give away to eidolons such as William who would also be in the know. A name so out of place in most places that it acted as an announcement, and a name which, when discovered, was always attached to things which were adjacent in purpose to that which William himself was meddling in.

A name such as Lucifer appearing here could only mean one thing, something which William contemplated as he walked towards his dwelling and had been contemplating for nearly two days now: The eidolon of Darkness and Discovery was here in Mirage with him, or at least, had been here within the past handful of years.

But if Lucifer was there, why hadn’t the Dandy Man said anything about finding him? Why hadn’t Lucifer found him of his own accord? Was Lucifer the thing which Mr. Wink wanted William to discover here in this shielded city of stained glass and sandstone, and if so, how was finding him here and now essential to avoiding Cathedral Terra – more essential than what he’d been doing three thousand years ago… give or take?

The answers would hopefully be found beneath the city streets of the oasis city that very night when William went to investigate what was down in those tunnels that no one but city guards were allowed to go into.

***

The triplets hung in the desert night sky as crowning jewels in the heavens. William looked up at them from out of the hallway window, his hands resting flat on the sill and his sword leaned up against the wall beside him. Pellup, the young brother, so called by the peoples of this planet, the smallest of the three, was completely enshrouded by the shadow of the world. Ready to be born anew. A dark hole in the sky above. Bom, the middle sister, largest of the three, her crescent waxing, beamed her dull yellow glow upon the world below. Ixo, eldest sister, distant, her dull green luminescence notable only by her unusual hue. Though further than her siblings, she was full this evening having escaped the shadow of the planet to which she was bound. William did not believe in omens, but he found himself thinking that if he did, he would take the sight of the moons as a good one. Pleasant moons indeed.

It was time to go.

He grabbed his blade and made his way downstairs quietly. The stairs spiraled and opened occasionally to open door ways which the other tenants had elected to cover with sheets to preserve a bit of privacy between themselves. One had been presented to William on the day he moved in by one of his new neighbors who did not speak Imperial but had given it to him with smiles and warmth in her voice. William had thanked her and hung it up the next morning. He moved past his neighbor’s abodes now and entered the ground floor lobby. To the door he went and, cracking it open, he peeked outside.

Being after sunset the curfew was in full effect and so there were no citizens out on the streets. All of the natators had been returned to their tower and all of the markets were closed. The city was quiet save for the dull hum of people in their homes not yet asleep and the occasional buzz of an ornithopter off in the distance. The only people walking the streets now were the city guard who were on night duty.

Seeing neither ningen or animunculi around, William stepped out of his apartment building and onto the cool glass street, gleaming brilliantly opalescent. He began to run. His destination wasn’t far.

As he ran he focused on his surroundings. Keeping an eye and ear out for anyone, or anything, other than himself moving on the streets, he sprinted unseen. Residents of Mirage who happened to be by their windows chose to turn their back on William as he passed by and only turned back around when he was out of sight once again.

His thoughts began to dwell on Cornello. Where was he? Was he alright? Was he beginning to forget the touch of his skin…?

A quick bite of his tongue drew his thoughts back to the present moment. His focus couldn’t slip for so much as an instant or else this may fail, and if he had any hope of seeing Cornello again, he mustn’t.

Turning right down a branching street that ran between two buildings, William passed through the shadows but came to a sudden halt as a leather-clad guard came into sight at the far end! As he slid to a stop he crouched low, sheathed blade at his side. The guard chose to stop, to turn his back on the side street shadows in which William hid. They looked around slowly, dutifully, before choosing to walk on without looking in William’s direction. Once they were well on the way of their patrol, William dashed out from his hiding place and made it across the open street to another side road. It wasn’t the most direct route to his destination but it was easier than tempting fate with the guard that had just passed.

Approaching that which he sought, William again came to a stop and pressed his back up against the cold sandstone wall of the building in whose shadow he hid, head craned skyward. Above him on the street and ornithopter whizzed by slowly, scanning as it went. As it approached he scooted back even further into the shadow of the building and crouched down low once again. He never broke eye contact with the flying machina. All things considered, William wasn’t a fan of animunculi. Learning of their apparent roles as pacifistic peacekeepers in this time had been a surprise for sure, but it wasn’t their past that rubbed him the wrong way.

At the end of the day, no matter how authentic an animunculi might be, it still could not truly make choices.

The ornithopter passed without stopping. William could not be certain that he hadn’t been seen in passing, but at least he hadn’t been spotted directly. So long as it did not stop to single him out, he reasoned that there was no time to worry about the technicians at Natator spotting him on the video feeds. Creeping back to the edge of the building, William hazarded to poke his head out into the moonlight and look after the spying machina. It had vanished from sight. He didn’t chance it coming back and flitted over to the building across the way, his destination.

The building was small in comparison to those around it, only a single story, with shuttered off windows and a locked door that was broken easily enough with the pommel of his sword. Inside was empty, save for a dark maw that held a set of stairs descending beneath the streets of Mirage. One of the fake buildings he’d learned about earlier that month that lead below.

He shut the door behind him and descended slowly. From here, there was no fear of running into any anumunculi at least. It was possible that there would be some processing metal brought in from the Wastes, but the metal plants were not what he was there for. What he needed to be worried about more than anything were guards, and possibly ningen who worked the clepsydras.

And getting lost.

William had learned about the existence of tunnels which ordinary citizens were not allowed in, but he hadn’t prodded anyone for their exact location. It was too suspicious of a question to ask about. He had worried that by doing so he would alert the council about his investigation and get them to place a closer eye on him. He hadn’t met with them since Ode had suggested he be made a wellerman, but he had no doubts that both eyes and ears had been watching him none the less. If he had been spending more time within the city limits, he might well have done the same himself.

The stairs bottomed out into a spacious tunnel that was well lit. Electric lights flowed in long, thin tubes on either side of the rounded ceiling as far as the eye could see, turning with the tunnel and illuminating it with a gentle glow that mimicked sunlight in color at least. Electric bulbs were a rarity in Mirage William had noticed. Most households, such as Joscur’s or his own, went without them, the people content to either rest with the setting of the sun or, if need be, use oil lamps which were fueled by processed blubber, candles, or the occasional simple machina that performed the same purpose. These lights appeared to have been designed to offer at least some comfort to those who had to spend their nights down here away from the sunlight, as well as effectively illuminate the entirety of the tunnel. After pausing at the foot of the stairs to make certain he heard no one coming William began to trek down the way at a persistent jog.

In truth the tunnels were not terribly difficult to navigate. There were writings on the wall in Mirage-Tongue that explained where you were going (even though he could not read the script), and the necessity of near constant traffic meant that they could not be designed to be labyrinthine in nature. He knew from asking that they followed the same basic circular pattern as the streets above just with more intersections and portions dedicated to factories. The whole thing was essentially a grid. He knew that, most likely, he wouldn’t be going down any stairs he came across because those would either lead to one of the factories or to the sewers even further below. Of course, William conceded the possibility that what he searched for, whatever it was that pertained to monsters and Lucifer, could be hidden in some secret chamber built into the very foundations of the city, but his intuition told him this was an unlikely thing. He’d check the sewers last if it came to that.

Besides his intuition, he knew to trust his senses and avoid any tunnels that rang out with activity echoing from deeper within or leaked strong smells. One such tunnel sounded almost like a great beast breathing by the great distortions of the work likely coming from the metal refining factory. Another he came across gave of a faint but distinct chemical smell; the suggestion of anything biological covered up by the harsh, sweet smell. William wondered if the sand whale that he and the crew of the Andros had caught was still being processed down that tunnel a ways or if it had been fully repurposed.

For the most part William was alone as he made his way through the stone hollows beneath Mirage. He did not possess the encyclopedic knowledge of were all of the clepsydras were and thus could not use them as a map, but he did have a good idea of where he was relative to the city streets above him. He also had his memories to guide him and the near certainty that things would be as they were before. The closer he got to the revelations of this new mystery he found himself chasing, the more intrusive thoughts of Cornello burst into his mind’s eye that he had to push aside. The last time he saw him. Cornello’s smile. The first time they met one another. That humorous little way in which he -

William came to an abrupt stop just as he was about to turn right down a tunnel when he heard foot steps approaching. Not thirty yards back he’d made a left turn into this section of the underground and so he quickly but quietly made his way back as fast as he could manage it, on the way, as he ducked back behind the corner, clanging the flat of his sheathed blade against the wall on purpose. There, back pressed against the wall, listening to the echo of his sword reverberate against the walls, William focused on the sound of the city guard coming to a stop as they exited their tunnel, thinking for a moment, trying to decide which way the noise had come from. The guard chose to turn right instead of left and William waited until their steps were whispers in his ear before ducking back out, crossing the thirty yards, and turning right down the tunnel.

Here was different somehow from the other holes that William had been tramping through up to this point. If memory served, by going down this subterranean hallway, he would be under Natator Tower soon. Yet the way was beginning to slope downwards, a gradual descent further beneath the ground where all else had been a level plane save for stairs or a ladder clearly leading to the sewers below. That funny feeling of suspicion came back as William puzzled over the possibility of this slope leading to some aqueduct made less and less sense. There were no guards posted at other sewer entry ways after all.

There came a point where he could go no further. At the end of the tunnel was a large, circular, vault-like door in front of which was stood two city guards who were speaking to one another quietly in Mirage-Tongue. William came to a stop in the middle of the tunnel and knew that the only way forward now would be through force. So be it. He began to walk again.

The conversation that the two guards were having (which, while quiet, was a spirited exchange about where they should go and get breakfast, for them dinner, in the morning once their shift was finished) came to an abrupt end as one of them turned to see the black haired stranger walking towards them. The first raised a hand and patted the back of their fingers against their coworker’s chest before pointing. By this point they were both frowning and, seeing his continued stride towards them, began to walk forward to meet him in kind.

They addressed him in Mirage-Tongue, asking what he was doing there. He did not answer. The one who had taken longer to notice William called out in Imperial, “You are not supposed to be here! Are you lost?”

William began to sprint towards them.

The exchange was over in a matter of seconds as the sword carrying trespasser dashed up and ducked down below the line of sight of the guard on his right, driving the sheathed blade of his sword with all of the force his momentum would allow into the gut of the leather armor clad guard who let out their breath as William gripped his sword by the handle and partially drew it from its casing to smash the pommel into the chin of the second guard to send them reeling backwards!

Only stunned by the blow to the gut, the first guard raised their arm with the intent of driving their elbow down on top of their black haired assailant – but William was faster! Sweeping his right foot forward between their legs, hooking his foot against the heel of the guard’s right leg and pushing his shin against theirs, he released the sheath, stood up straight, and struck the chin of the guard with the heel of his palm as he rose up. This was enough to knock them off balance and send them falling backwards onto their backside. The stranger in white took a step forward and gave a forceful roundhouse kick to the left side of their face, driving them into the ground! Blood spewed from between their lips as their head impacted the hard stone floor.

Whirling to face the other guard, they had gotten into a combat ready position with their hands raised, one of which held a short club. A weapon meant for subduing civilians. William took a moment to push his sword back fully into the sheath.

Then the guard lunged! Striking downwards at William to avoided the blow by stepping backwards, avoiding the follow up by stepping and leaning to his left, raising his sword to block the third!

An opening! The guard grabbed onto the sheathed blade in an attempt to disarm William!

An opening. William brought his right leg up into a swift shin-kick to the left knee before extending his leg and planting his foot harshly into the right thigh. This made the guard crumble, but not fall, so William jabbed at the front of their throat! The wet, choking gasp of air filled the tunnel as the guard reflexively released the blade and went to grab at their throat.

Disengaging with the baton, William snaked his covered blade around the arm of the guard while stepping behind them, pinning their arm to the sword by bringing it to rest against their shoulder. He kicked the back of the same knee he’d stuck before to drive them to the ground.

The guard tried to to to the right at first – finding it only increased the pain they were in – before swerving and swinging wide behind them with their arm in an attempt to strike William off of him!

William leaned to avoid the blow before slamming his left elbow into the back of their head, twice, and knocking them unconscious.

The second guard was back on their feet now and dove into William, tackling him off of his colleague and forcing him to let go of his sword! The two ended up on the ground only a couple of short feet away as the unconscious guard fell flat onto the cool floor.

Straddling the sword wielding interloper, who was on his back, the guard raised their own club up high and brought it swinging down towards William’s face, trying to end this in a swift couple of blows!

As the blow came, William’s arms shot up – one held bend in front of his face for protection, the other snapping up to grab the falling arm and prevent the blow. Next he bent his knees and twisted his hips between the legs of the guard, pulling his right leg up and through the gap in their thighs, planting his foot on their left thigh, and kicking off of them to slide out from underneath them!

Frantic but focused, the guard balled their free hand into a fists and made to strike at the intruder’s face once more!

William leaned forward and wrapped his arm around their back, catching their arm over his shoulder and avoiding the blow. He curled his right leg up between them and drove a downward kick towards the groin of the guard, scraping his foot along their lower stomach in the process and sending them backwards onto their fallen comrade.

William pushed himself up onto his feet, taking a couple of steps back while the guard, cradling their gut, moved to do the same. With the extra steps William rushed forward and delivered a lunging knee towards the guard’s head, his hands raised up close to his face just in case there were any surprises.

His knee landed true and the guard fell backwards into a heap beside their partner. Unconscious, for the moment.

William took long, slow, deliberate breaths through his nose and out of his mouth, focusing on slowing his heartbeat down. He walked over and grabbed his sword from off of the ground before pushing his long hair out of his face and turning towards the door, walking past the two defeated guards and examining it closer. It was enormous. Too large for any individual, ningen or bloodling, to open on their own. Even with two it would be a struggle, and those two would need to be exceptionally strong. ‘These guards were not meant to open the door,’ he quickly concluded in his thoughts, beginning to pace back and forth like a predator.

A door this size could only be easily opened with the assistance of at least one powerful animunculi, or, more likely, some mechanism which opened the door from within. He saw no key holes, no panels, nothing that suggested the door opened from this side – then he saw it. High up on the left hand side of the tunnel, embedded in the wall. A camera lens, now aimed directly at him. William let out a puff of air as he saw it. Someone was watching him. Which meant -

“Open the door.”

At first, nothing seemed to happen, but within seconds there came heavy clunking noises as unseen machinery did their work at the behest of a technician who had chosen to listen to William. William straightened up and watched as pressurized mechanisms hissed out in relief of the pressure they had just been under and the door swung inwards wide, opening up into a dark space that lie beyond. William didn’t even wait for the door to open fully before stepping inside and finding out what lie beyond.

The room inside was not actually dark, just dimly lit. The sunlight-mimicking tubes had come to an end just shy of the door and the room beyond was being lit by a combination of smaller, less luminous bulbs that hung as lanterns on the walls and the glow of lights coming from control boards which operated the machinery that opened the door. There were four individuals in this small, square room, three of which was crowded around a fourth, all of them wearing suits similar to the machina technicians he’d seen in Natator Tower. All of them looked to William as he entered the room and he looked to them in kind. None of them chose to speak as he walked past them to the opposite end where a smaller door barred the way. He grabbed a hold of the handle and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge.

“Open it,” he demanded without turning around. Wordlessly, one of them complied. Another short hiss and the door gave way. As he stepped through, one of them stepped out to go check on the guards.

Beyond the door was the answer to his question of what was wrong with Mirage, but it was beyond anything that he had imagined.

He was in a cold, well lit room that had a myriad of glass tanks in it. Dozens, at least, all lined up in neat rows. Each tank was lit from below, bathing the entire room in a dull green light, illuminating the contents there within. Inside was a viscous green fluid that filled the glass cylinders from top to bottom. Suspended within this fluid was horror. Bodies, some barely recognizable as such, twisted and deformed. Tumorous. Flayed. Stretched. Mangled. No two looked the same. One he saw was a hulking mass of bulbous shapes seemingly piled on top of each other as though a child playing in mud were slinging wads of the stuff to form a pile. Another was missing all but one of its limbs, the appendage unnaturally long and angular as if broken in several places. There was only one thing that each of these things had in common with each other. Something that became disturbingly obvious the longer you looked at each of them:

These had all been people at one point of time.

William walked forward between the rows of tanks as he pondered this fact. His stomach was twisting as nausea on a scale well beyond sickness set in. It was the faces that gave them away. Some were just as contorted as their bodies, frozen in expressions of pain, malicious delight, some seemingly at peace, but all were unmistakably people. Most of them ningen. Some bloodlings, their fanged mouths the only thing which could differentiate them from one another. William saw one former bloodling whose fangs had been removed, leaving behind voids in their gaping mouth which gave away their former species.

The feeling grew worse and worse, a pit opening up in his stomach that seemed to drain all hope from William. Aside from the deformities, there was only one thing that all of these tank-bound carcasses had in common: the black fluid. Just what it was William did not know and that made the pit in his stomach feel deeper. It seemed to be infesting these poor individual’s bodies and was leaking out of most of them. Through the eyes, mouth, ears, broken body parts, open wounds – they extended out of each one in unique ways and looked like cordyceps. Some of the stuff had broken off and was floating at the tops of the tanks in round blobs. Everything inside of the eidolon was screaming when he looked at this liquid in a way that few else did, and yet he didn’t know why. What was this stuff? What had happened to these people? Why were they being kept here? What did this have to do with Lucifer? As was often the case when one went poking around seeking them, William was left with more questions than answers.

He stopped in front of one tank in particular. The body within it was small, limbs curled in on itself, black fluid seemingly leaking from every pore in such a way that it almost formed a cocoon that was giving an impression of fire. A child. The face was only barely visible and just by the vaguest outlines. A suggestion of an expression. William stared into that face and could not tell if it was expressing glee, sorrow, or pain. He reached out and placed his hand against the cold glass. Something was wrong here. Deeply wrong in a way which no one could have possibly understood. Lucifer would have felt it, too. Where was he? What was his connection to all of this?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud sounding of his name from a familiar voice.

“William!” Joscur cried out from down the way he had entered.

William looked up and away from the tank over at the man who had helped save his life when he first fell into the Wastes, accompanied by the two guards he had knocked unconscious before, one other who he did not know, and the mechanics who were at the back of the group. The expression on Joscur’s face was one of deep, fiery disappointment. William’s was an accusing glower.