It all started with a tapping. Her feet, unable to stop shaking violently, at risk of waking the baby. Cyrene knew that working in the city was going to be difficult, expecting challenges, but she wasn’t ready for the unending dread of being alive. She had to work nonstop, earning her a cardboard box at a creaky inn, with a few scraps of stale bread. What made her even more worried was that she loved eating it. Every day she thought of home. She dreamed of the clean air, free from fumes that felt like razors scraping the flesh off of the lungs. She thought of her father preparing a hearty roast, while her mom was out, tending a small herd in the fields. It was maddening that anyone wanted to live in the city, but here she was, unable to afford to go home.

At least, that was how it was until Mr. Monday appeared. A bizarre man who had strolled into the inn, when she was taking a break from scrubbing off oil from the machinery and golems. He caught her dozing off, dreaming of a life that wasn’t hers. He woke her up and offered her an incredible opportunity, that most citizens of this metallic town would gladly tear off their limbs just to receive such a gift. In an instant, she found herself in a new home, a continuous paycheck that still felt imaginary, and a baby sleeping in a crib. She didn’t know who it belonged to, or where it came from, but her only instructions were to keep it alive. She imagined that Mr. Monday wanted her to love the little infant, but the coldness within his smile left her to think otherwise.

A bell rang. It was a sign for her to prepare the house for Mr. Monday’s arrival. He would normally visit to check on the conditions of the house and the state of the baby, in calculating study. However, he would visit in a routine manner, every two weeks. However, it had only been four days since his last visit, and now he was to come. As she tidied up the house, all she could do was ponder as to why the sudden change. She feared the worst, imagining that she’d be kicked out of this fantasy, and back into the heat and turmoil of the engines below the town. She had enough money to go home, but she was so close to her dream, of singing at the Celestial Palisade. She needed more time.

The knocking at the door pulled her out to see him and an unusual carriage, waiting by the street. The vehicle appeared more sturdy and hearty than a simple carriage only meant for transport.

“My dear starlet, I’m sorry for the sudden arrival. I hope it hasn’t upset you?” His voice tried its best to sound genuine, but the back of her mind couldn’t ignore the apathetic sting.

“No, Mr. Monday. I am simply a servant.”

“If we are to go by that analogy, you’ve been an excellent one. The child?”

She turned her head back, to see the frames of the crib at the other side of the house. “Sleeping, as normal. Not a lot of peep from this one, you think it was dead, for how little this one fusses.”

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She only meant it as a joke, unprepared for a harrowing silence. Eyes, from the passerby, stared at her. Mr. Monday’s head swayed from the right to the left, as she felt the world disown her very existence, that her being was a mistake.

“But, the baby is good, as you noted from your last visit.”

“Excellent!” He tapped his cane to the concrete floor. The passerby continued to walk like nothing happened. “Again, starlet, excellent.” He pushed Cyrene to the side, heading towards the baby. Her fears became close to the truth.

“Excuse me, Mr. Monday? Did I do something wrong?”

He ignored her, grabbing the infant from the crib. He spoke once he was at the door with the child. “Alright, I appreciate your services, Ms. Cyrene, but unfortunately, unprecedented events have forced us to make a minor change to our agreement.” He stepped past her once more, even though she was tempted to stop him.

“I’m sorry. What does this mean?”

“Simply, your work will be on a temporary pause, but don’t worry, the pay will still come, and your hard work deserves to be rewarded.” As he finished his words, a faceless figure appeared, completely covered in cloth. The thing handed Cyrene a document, and scanning through it, she noticed it was a deed to the house. “We will contact you later when this temporary halt is over.” He nodded briefly and walked to the carriage.

Watching the child slowly disappear into the black carriage, she felt guilt. Everything within her wanted to stop the man from taking the child away. She had not once thought of the poor thing, and now that she had everything, it all felt wrong. She could only mutter a word or two, even attempting a weak movement, as her arms lifted upward. Then dropping immediately. She watched them get into the carriage, and then, they were gone.

***

The door remained sealed, barred with metal machinery and magical spells, performed by the wisest of magic crafters. He waited inside, knowing she’d come. The door was going to fail, he didn’t want to make it any easier for her. A gunshot muffled through the door. Then another. A scream ripped through the metal chamber, the last breath of life escaping through the terrible screech. He smiled, pouring himself a drink, pulling out a pistol with glyphs imbued on the barrel. The room thundered, shook, and trembled. The baby stirred awake, as he tried his best to calm the infant. The door finally creaked. A tremendous snap shot the air, as the spells vanished and the door warped with a nasty groan.

The baby began to cry.

“Shh. It’s going to be alright.”

The latches of the door glowed. It burned. Before the door could even explore, it collapsed within itself, revealing a woman behind the door. He turned and pulled the trigger. Two shots. Two hits. He hit her chest and her left shoulder, as the woman fell, her red and silver hair, flying through the air as she fell. The seconds felt like agony, as he wondered if she would die so pathetically. The woman moved.

“So, you do bleed?” He exclaimed; an unnerving excitement came from his tone. “The myth of the Unbreakable. The Shadow that Burns. The Guide to the Final Tunnel.”

The woman got up, bleeding and angry.

“I always thought those were silly names, would you like a drink.”

She shot his head.