Eidolon, Obscura Row. October 11, 1879 - 11:07 pm.
The fog clung to the city of Eidolon like a shroud, obscuring the cobblestone streets and the shadowy figures that lurked within its embrace. It seeped into the very pores of the buildings, turning the once grand architecture into a ghostly silhouette of its former self.
The old lady at the side of the road was as much a part of the fog as it was of the city. She had ceased her pleas for alms hours ago, the damp mist muffling her voice until it was as faint as the last gasp of a dying flame. Her eyes, once bright and hopeful, had long ago dulled to the color of the pebbles underfoot. Her wrinkled skin seemed to absorb the fog, each line and crevice a tiny cavern.
Lucius black leather boots clicked rhythmically on the cobblestones as he approached the edge of the Glassmarch market. His deep brown, almost black hair blew violently in the wind. It was wavy and tousled, with a certain effortless elegance, as if he had chosen the chaos on purpose.
His long, ivory-colored coat was quite striking, since the normal fashion in this part of the city tended to be dark. The high collar hid parts of his face, and his stature was tall, lean, but with an eerie presence. His eyes darted around, observing everything closely. They shone through the fog in an eerie cold gray with a pale blue tint.
The alley smelled of a butcher's shop gone wrong. The scent of iron was thick, not from fresh meat but something much older and more sinister. It was the smell where the metal had been marinated in blood and decay. His nose wrinkled, but not from the unpleasant odor. It was from the scent of something beneath it.
As he followed the scent, the fog parted and revealed the grim scene. At his feet lay a young man, not even twenty years of age. The boy's eyes were open, frozen in a silent scream, the pupils dilated with terror. His mouth frozen mid-scream, rounded as if still gasping for salvation.
With a sigh, Lucius Silvis knelt down beside the lifeless form. His movements were precise, almost ritualistic, as he reached out and gently closed the dead man's eyelids with a soft click that echoed through the deserted alley. It was a gesture that had once been commonplace, but in the ever-shifting world of Eidolon, it was a relic of a more compassionate age. Only the initiated knew the importance of keeping the windows to the soul firmly shut in the afterlife.
The young man's throat had been torn open, a jagged wound that spoke of teeth that were not quite human. The blood had pooled and congealed around his neck, a crimson collar that starkly contrasted with the pale skin.
Lucius stepped back, his boots echoing on the damp cobblestones. It was not fear that propelled him, but respect. A silent nod to the brutality of the world he had sworn to navigate, to understand. The fog swirled around him, seemingly acknowledging his presence before continuing its relentless march.
Making his way to the old lady, her eyes, once lost in the fog, found him. They searched his face, looking for the answers.
He bent down to her, his long coat brushing the wet ground, and spoke in a gentle tone that seemed to slice through the fog. "Ma'am, have you seen anything unusual lately?"
The old lady's eyes flicked to his with a spark of suspicion, then she looked away again, her gaze drifting back to the fog that swallowed the street. Her silence was as heavy as the fog that shrouded the city. Lucius reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a gray 5 solmarc banknote. He knew better, information in Eidolon had a cost.
"This is yours," he said, placing the note in her trembling hand. "Tell me what you've seen."
Her eyes widened, and she took the money, clutching it to her chest. "There was a creature," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It didn't look right. It had eyes like...like glass beads, reflecting the street lamps, and it moved too fast to be a man. It took him, the poor boy. Just like it took the others."
Unnoticed by the old lady, a mark appeared deep on Lucius' spine, directly above his sacrum. It shimmered slightly, like glass, and formed a mystic symbol. A thorny spiral, half open like an eye, half an open mouth, with a fine crack that looks like a smile. Golden lines frame the center, which shimmers in dark purple.
He looks into her eyes, and the fog seems to thicken around them, creating a bubble of isolation. His own eyes, those cold, reflective orbs, seem to warm, to pulse with a strange light. The old lady feels something within her, a gentle tug at her soul. It's as if he's peering into the deepest recesses of her mind, into the caverns of her desires and fears. Her thoughts, once a tumultuous storm, now line up neatly before him.
Her desires are simple, almost mundane. She craves safety, a warm meal, a place to sleep.
"She has nothing to do with it... that eliminates her as a potential killer."
The symbol on Lucius' back faded as quickly as it had appeared. The old woman's eyes cleared of their sudden sharpness and she shivered slightly as if waking from a deep sleep. She stared at him with a mix of curiosity and fear, unsure of what had just transpired. He straightened up, his face a mask of calm reassurance.
"Thank you for your help," he said, his voice a gentle whisper in the oppressive silence. The old lady nodded, clutching the banknote in her fist like a lifeline.
....
1:35 am, Hollaling Street.
Lucius arrived at his apartment, a sanctuary from the oppressive embrace of Eidolon's streets. The building was an ancient relic, as if it had been forgotten by time itself. Its bricks were stained with the patina of centuries, and ivy clung to the walls, weaving a tapestry of shadowy greens in the moonlight. The heavy oak door groaned open, revealing a narrow staircase that spiraled up into the darkness.
Inside the apartment, the air was thick with the scent of candlewax and incense, a deliberate barricade against the stench of the city. The room was sparsely furnished, with a large, scarred wooden desk piled high with tomes and parchments, and a single chair that looked as if it had borne witness to countless hours of contemplation. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved across the room, each step echoing through the emptiness.
He took off his coat and revealed a vest of dark gray material shimmered like a pearl in the candlelight, a stark contrast to the dullness of the room.
With a sigh of relief, Lucius draped his coat over the chair. It was an old piece of furniture, worn down by the weight of countless nights. He sat down at his desk, his tall frame seemingly swallowed by the shadows. His hand reached up to rub his temples, as if the weight of the night's grim discovery was pressing down on his very skull. His eyes closed briefly, and his long fingers massaged the tension in his forehead.
"I still don't have any useful leads... and tomorrow is already the deadline. Just the thought of returning without any information gives me a headache."
With a sigh, he took a few matches from the drawer and lit the candles on the table. The flames danced and flickered, casting eerie shadows across the room. The candles were a peculiar set, each one a different size and shape, and they emitted an unusual scent. It was a blend of herbs and something faintly metallic, a scent that was both soothing and unnerving. The light was dim, but it was enough to illuminate the cluttered space and the myriad of items scattered across the desk. There were hand-drawn maps of the city, pages torn from ancient books, and various instruments that looked more like relics than tools of modern investigation.
"I have been following this case for 2 weeks and... nothing. It's just been a waste of time and the worst part... without a result I don't get paid."
"At least I have enough savings... 4360 Solmarc's. I should be able to cover my expenses with that."
He thought to himself and with another sigh, he took the letter from the table that he had forgotten to open the morning before. He carefully extracted the single sheet within, unfolding it to reveal the spidery scrawl.
"Great..." He folded the letter and put it back on the table "I forgot that the rent is due. Well, then I'm only left with 3610 Solmarc."
....