We're literally cursed

When we were done laughing at the investigator's insane accusation and he was about to continue with his questioning (which probably would have included accusations that we were all secretly unicorns, or maybe even leprechauns), a loud noise sounded from outside that shook the building. An explosion. A big one. At least I had an officer in the room so he couldn't say it was me this time.

A big commotion came from the corridor as officers ran to see what happened, and the investigator eyed the door nervously, clearly wanting to go too. I joked that the people who gave us those tracking coins are probably the same folks who caused the explosion, then the weird bartender with metal for a face suggested that since we're clearly not behind the explosion, we should go take a look and help the investigation. Is this a thing rich people do? Get blamed for a crime they didn't do, then immediately sign up to help with a police case before they're even proven innocent?

It seems like no, because the investigator immediately shot down the offer, then left the room.

We did some quick introductions once we were alone, so the metal head dude is called 98 (because he has 2 screws missing?), and the chick with fire for hair is called Kalirama Vala... something. Kali for short. I think she's the daughter of an Architect from what I could piece together?

They did a bit of pacing around while trying to figure out why the police decided to blame us for the murders. Do these people really not get how it works? They didn't care who did it, all that matters is that they can blame someone before the news breaks out to the city at large. An Architect being murdered is a big deal, especially the one who was in charge of the festival. And it would look real bad if the cops came to the public empty handed. Literal witch hunts would follow. Instead, the cops find a few "likely suspects", like the daughter of a rival Architect, a poor kid envious of his wealth and status, or a deranged bartender that may or may not be from the Children of Ferrum. They didn't need a culprit, all they needed was a scapegoat.

Not that it made it any better for us, of course. Or at least for me. The daughter of an Architect could probably buy her way out of any court, and a bartender that's part of a cult must have some connections. What would I do, read some star charts to figure out exactly how long they plan to throw me in jail? I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, trying to stay calm like my momma taught me. I sort of hoped that the fires from the explosion would spread and somehow carve us a way out of this room, but I doubt the station's walls are really fragile enough for that to happen.

A while later, the investigator came back, and he didn't look happy. He said that none of us have any major criminal record (though he looked at me specifically, as though implying that "unlicensed commercial fortune-telling" isn't a bullshit crime), so he's letting all three of us go. Guess they might have found a culprit after all? Or maybe just a better scapegoat.

Right as we got up to go, Raspira, the owner of the bar, ran into the room and told us to wait. She put a broadcast sigil on the table and turned it on, and the hazy image of a person appeared above it. The person said that they are from AMO, that they have marked three people who they deemed "reprehensible" using some method developed by the police. Within three days, the marked people will die, unless they give up on their magic for good. Then they added that they were not responsible for the attack on the Architects' tower (which I guess might be the explosion we heard? Who would attack the Architects?), and that it was clearly done by the Children of Ferrum.

Oh hex.

The three of us looked at one another, and they looked just as worried as I did, even through 98's metallic face. I could feel my heart picking up some speed, and my whole chest was warming up. Wait, what? That wasn't normal, even for me. I put a hand on my chest and felt a weird pulsing energy, right where the "officer" had slipped the marked coin into my pocket.

They weren't bluffing. I was marked.

I turned my attention back to the investigator as he was saying something about how they would just love to help us figure out how to deal with the very literal death threat we were just handed, but sadly they just had to focus all their resources on finding The Children of Ferrum, because they allegedly attacked the Architects. What a surprise.

Actually surprisingly though, he then turned off the recording sigils and scribbled something on a piece of paper, saying that he knows someone who might be able to help us, and to tell her that Ramsay Clague sent us. I slipped the note into my pocket, then we were given back our stuff and we were let go.

It wasn't me this time

The way out of the Halls of Justice looked like a warzone. Officers were running back and forth, yelling commands and reports into their sigils, bringing people in on stretchers or running out to help others. Wounded people were lying on the ground outside or in the lobby as doctors and healers tried to figure out who to help. Smoke was coming in from outside. Lots of it.

We got on a pelican raft headed back to Jellica's bar, and as we floated above the square I stole a look at what was going on below. A big chunk of the lower floors of the Architects' Tower was blown wide open, and people were trying to build supports using magic, tools, rubble, and just whatever they had around them, to keep the rest of the tower from falling over. And there were so many bodies.

I've seen my share of fatal bar fights and gang wars in the lower levels, and more than a few deaths in my visions. Hex, I saw two in my readings just earlier today (I just realized I should probably have told the officers about the guy who was going to die outside the city), but this was something else. There must have been over thirty bodies scattered around the tower. Some were burnt, others crushed by the debris, some were completely torn apart by the force of the explosion.

I'm not sure how long stared at the destruction, I just couldn't look away. I looked at all the bodies, thinking who they might have been, what plans they would have had for the night, for the week, for their lives, before they got caught in the blast. I'm not sure if it just my imagination or if they were real visions, but images flashed in my head of a family having a picnic in the gardens, a father tucking his child in bed, a little girl sitting in class, a young couple getting married... the same couple that came to me for a reading just an hour or two before. The bride-to-be was sitting between the rubble, crying. Alone.

Respira wrapped her fur coat around my shoulders and gently pulled my away from the edge of the raft, making me look away. She helped me calm down, and I spent the rest of the ride just focusing on my breathing, pushing away anything even resembling a thought.

Picking up scraps

We got to the bar, and I threw myself at one of the chairs and took out the note the officer gave us. I didn't want to open it. As long as it was still folded there was a chance that it would say how this was all one big joke and none of it was real, maybe it would say that I'm dreaming and trapped in a nightmare, or any of a billion other things that would be better than this being real.

But I took a deep breath, opened it, and without looking passed it to 98.

Oh well, one can dream.

98 said he knows this "aoibeann" (apparently pronounced "ay-veen"), that she goes by the name Augur. She's good, but expensive. Good thing we have an Architect's daughter, I guess.

So we went to the gardens, Respira staying behind to "manage the base of operations", and found Augur sitting on a bench in a slightly wooded area. She was a young red-headed woman with very visible aether-implants in her arms and face. I nudged 98 to try to do the talking, because maybe they can bond over their implants or something, but he didn't really like that. So instead we just walked over, said that we heard about her from Ramsay Clague, and asked if she has any sort of information about AMO or any murder plots they might have had.

Apparently she has nothing on AMO, but she said she "has a soft spot for us" because we're marked for death, so she told us that she does know a tiny bit about the coins that were used to track us. She said they were originally created to track AMO operatives, but their form and function was kept very quiet within the ranks of the police, so we should suspect anyone who can instantly recognize the sigils on the coins. Fat load of good that would do us, how many sigilcrafters are there in this city? Hundreds? Thousands?

Just enough, apparently, since 98 said that he knows someone who instantly recognized the sigils, someone called Nigel Bailey. He also suggested that we go to the Children of Ferrum, because they might have more info about... something?

Those guys need to go back to school

So off we went to Nigel's house, which is apparently down the alley from the bar. It was getting really late, but I guess either way we wouldn't have to rest too much in 3 days. Nigel let us in and seemed really nice, but he was a bit on edge and gave me a bit of a weird vibe.

We told him about us being marked, and he looked really surprised when we said that they would kill us, then he asked to see one of our marks. Apparently while mine is on my chest, Kali's is on her palm, while 98's is on his leg. So he took a look at Kali's hand, and said that he can't help us because the Sigilry is mixed with Arcana - so while he can tell that there was a spell woven into the mark, he doesn't know how to read it. Fortunately, I happen to know someone who was fourth-to-top of his class in Theoretical Arcana.

Me.

So I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and dove into the magic.

It was a mess, nothing like the spells they had us handle in school. The energy making up the spell seemed like it was woven by four different people, each with a different idea of what it should do. There was some elemental magic in there, a bit of divination, a big chunk of ley, and even a tiny bit of spirit magic - all of this haphazardly bound onto the sigil base that made up the mark itself, that tied it to the coin and then to us. On the bright side, I'm pretty sure the spell was bodged to such a degree that it wouldn't actually manage to fry us like it was intended to do. The downside is that it would immediately - and permanently - tear us from the Ley.

If this mark was triggered, we wouldn't be able to do even the simplest of magics, operate the most basic sigils or use any kind of alchemic reagent. All magic would treat us as if we were inanimate as a rock - or even less than that, since at least crystals have some magical properties.

Then again, would that be that bad? After all if I didn't have magic I wouldn't have to keep worrying about setting anything on fire if I got too happy or angry or sad or nervous. Plenty of people on the lower levels live their whole lives without using any kind magic at all, surely I could learn to be like that? After all, what did magic have to offer? Seeing the horrible ways that are going to die? Getting aether implants that look like cat ears? Being exposed to every single negative thought that people around me share on the magical net, sometimes even ones about me because they don't realize I can hear them?

Yeah, I can live without those.

Hex, look at all the people who had those things, who lived in the fancier parts of town, who were allowed to stay in their magic school and weren't kicked out for bullshit reasons, who went about their lives only to be blown up a week before their wedding.

I can live without that.

Right?

I opened my eyes, and apparently the conversation went on a bit without me. Also I swear I could smell some smoke, but I couldn't tell where it was. Hopefully it wasn't because of me. Anyway, from what I gathered, Nigel was the one who designed the sigils on the coins. He was commissioned to make them by the officers, but then an Architect came and told him to make some modifications. However, the Architect couldn't come to tell him himself, so instead he sent the message with his son, who was about my age, with dark skin, blue eyes one of which was sigilcraft with a scar around it, and... oh hex it was Kori.

Well, at least now we know why I was targeted. Kali and 98 are rich or at least members of high society, so they're obvious targets for political murder. But why would you murder a poor candlemakers' son from the lower levels? Maybe if you're still mad at him for dating your rich son, and getting him kicked from school wasn't enough for you.

After a bit more chitchat and a cup of tea, we said goodbye to Nigel, and decided to meet back up at the bar in the morning.

Am I really supposed to get some sleep after all of this?

My mums jumped on me the second I was through the door. Can't really blame them. They asked if I was anywhere near the explosion and if anything happened because I was out so late.

I told them I was fine, that I was really far from the explosion, but the police thought it was done by someone from the lower levels so they set up a checkpoint to question anyone who was going from the higher levels to the lower ones, so everything was really slow. Somehow that only made them more worried, which brought a whole lot of new questions. No, the wait wasn't that bad, I passed the time by talking to other folks waiting to pass. I even did a few readings for some of them. No, the police weren't too aggressive with their check. No, I'm not hungry, I bought myself some food on the way. Yes, I did ask the officers what was going on, but no, they didn't tell me anything.

At a certain point I asked if I can go to bed. I was so tired, and all this time the mark on my chest was still throbbing - fortunately neither of them dipped into the ley, otherwise they would have seen it glowing brightly on me (or maybe they did see it and chose not to ask?)

Momma insisted on tucking me in bed as if I was 8, then just as I was turning off the light, decided to drop another bomb on me. Apparently Niall Maderel, Kori's dad, the one who got me kicked out of school and apparently trying to get me killed, was the Architect who was appointed to lead the city festival.

Guess I was overdue on having a sleepless night, because boy was this one a bad one.

How was I supposed to just fall sleep after finding out that I'm about to be murdered, finding out that I'm probably not actually going to die but instead permanently lose all access to magic, the assassination was probably arranged by my ex's dad, that that dad is probably dead now, and that in the meanwhile dozens of other people were blown up, so the police didn't even care about the other three people about to be murdered.

I lay in bed for like two or three hours before giving up on sleep and checking what people where saying on the Ley. I literally spent the rest of the night watching people's memories from the town square right before or after the explosion, listening to testimonials from witnesses and messages from council-members. I swear, if I ever find out who developed the charms to let people communicate so easily without getting out of bed, I'm gonna burn them at the stake. But hey, at least it was a decent distraction from the hex that was making its way through my body,

This is why I don't do implants

Morning happened some point, so as soon as my mothers came to wake me up I ran out of the house making some excuse about how I forgot my cards at my reading spot, so I might just stay up there and do readings for the whole day. They started saying something, but I was already out so I'm just going to assume that they were wishing me a good day or something like that.

The others were already at the bar when I got there, so we quickly went over our plans for the day (talking to the Children of Ferrum, then giving Kori a visit), and headed off to the Children's chapel in the basement levels.

I know the topsiders like to group all the lower levels into one big dirty blob, but as someone who grew up in the lower levels, the basements give me the creeps. The ventilation systems pumping air through the city barely reach down here, making the air feel stale and heavy. The Ley channels that normally run down the sides of buildings and paint everything with a calm blue light only seem to connect to every other street. Buildings are crumbling and rotting, and most the people don't seem far off from that either.

98 led us to a small side alley, where a person stopped us. I'm not sure if "person" is really the right word here honestly, given the amount of implants this guy had. He had metallic hooves instead of feet, horns like a bull, a wolf's muzzle, no ears, and when he opened his mouth to speak he had fangs like a snake. Also, speaking of him speaking, it seems like his vocal cords were also replaced with aether-implants, since his voice sounded more choppy than a twenty-year-old recording sigil.

So this thing stopped us and asked where we think we're going, then 98 gave him some weird passphrase. The person asked him if we're sure that Kali and I aren't undercover cops, because apparently he thinks the police hire kids and people with burning hair to carry out covert operations. 98 assured him that we're not, and we were let into a building.

Now, the Children of Ferrum aren't exactly a secret society, they have plenty of door-to-door evangelists who try to recruit people into their cult. But let's say that these salespeople painted a very different picture from what their sanctum actually looks like.

The Children's church looked like a massive hospital operating room, with at least a dozen people undergoing surgery for implants, grafts, and augments. Aside from the patients and the doctors, there were another twenty or so people walking around the room or praying to a massive metal and stone statue that stood in the middle. Each of these people had different bits of stone, crystal, and metal sticking out of them, some had animalistic features, a couple even walked on all fours. I take back my comment about 98 being part of this cult, he's way too good looking to be one of them.

98 went to one of the more official-looking people and asked for a private audience. Apparently they were some sort of priest, and really didn't trust Kali and me. Go figure.

We were taken behind the big statue statue and 98 asked the priest a bunch of questions about the Children of Ferrum, but the only real answers we got were that they claim to not be behind the attack on the Architects' Tower, and that they claim not to hate AMO. Sure, whatever you say, priest-with-chicken-legs-and-crumpled-metal-wings. 98 wasn't satisfied with the answers, so he insisted on talking to "The Iron Father", which I think is the leader of the cult.

We went back around the statue, and 98 asked me to check if it was magical. And oh boy was it magical. The statue was sitting directly on the major Ley Line running through Steev, the same one that powers the Ley Engine. There was so much mystic energy flowing through the statue that just by looking at it I though I was about to catch fire (and not for the usual reasons). The statue was radiating such a strong arcane field that I honestly have no idea how the whole building didn't burn down years ago.

With that knowledge in mind, 98 went before the statue and offered to trade it his body, in exchange for help.

And the statue opened its hexin' eyes.

Balls of magical blue fire opened in its eye sockets, and it stared at each of us in turn. Then a horrible, cracking, deep voice came from the pipes running up the statue, that told him to continue.

98 repeated his offer, his body in exchange for help, and then the weirdest thing ever happened.

I gotta learn this trick

The statue's glowing eyes focused on me, and as I blinked from the light, the church vanished around me.

Kali, 98, and I were standing on the surface of what looked like a blue lake, except instead of water, it was made of pure Ley energy. And in front of us was The Iron Father. He looked mostly human, except his skin was entirely made of stone, and his blue eyes were only slightly glowy.

He asked us what we want to know, and when we said that we want to get rid of the marks, he just pulled them out of our bodies! Or I guess our astral-body-projection-emobodiment-thingies? Obviously he didn't actually remove them from our real bodies, but he did take a closer look at the sigils. He said that he can't remove them from us, but that he might be able to guide us to someone who can.

The marks are mostly powered by arcana, but they are bound to us through sigils - and he hinted that somehow disabling the sigils that power the city (the Ley Engine) would disable the marks as well. However he also draws power from the Engine, so disabling it would kill him. He added that the Architects have many secrets, so I guess maybe they know how to disable the Engine?

Finally, 98 asked if there's a way to "stop AMO and reunite the people", whatever that means, to which the Iron Father replied:

Allegiance is not singular, you can be aligned to more than one.

The sins of the father may travel further than the son.

Sometimes people believe tragedies are required for the greater good.

There are buried histories, when you know them you will make your decisions.

Where is it easiest to learn the knowledge of the past?

He also said that he would have liked to help more, but there are big consequences so he can't really do much. Gee, where have I heard the exact same thing before, less than 24 hours ago?

Anyway, we popped back into the church, said thank you to the statue, and left the building as quickly as we could without causing a scene, while the cult-folks gave us weird looks.

So I guess now it's time to see my ex. Yay.