Flicker… hiss… crackle.
The lights above stuttered like they were reconsidering their career path. Not dead yet, but tired of the effort. Honestly, I could relate.
Carrow's boots clanged against the grated walkway, steady and unbothered. Mine followed with a little less enthusiasm. Beneath us, the Veins whispered. Machinery grinding, pipes knocking, the kind of mechanical muttering that made you think the place was alive and annoyed.
Drip… drip… distant chatter.
"You're overthinking again," Carrow muttered without turning. His tone carried the smug weight of someone who thought he'd solved the puzzle before even looking at the pieces.
"Not overthinking," I said, eyes tracing faint chalk marks scratched into a bulkhead. Three short, one long. A code. A signal. "Just paying attention. You should try it sometime."
He waved it off. "Scrawls from bored workers. Don't make conspiracies where there aren't any."
Sure. And maybe the Veins just conveniently decided to have extra foot traffic at this hour. Shadows slipping through half-open doors. Conversations cut off the second my boots echoed too close. Stashes hidden behind panels that were supposed to be sealed.
Clank… shuffle… muffled thud.
The thud wasn't random. Too heavy, too deliberate. Someone moving crates. I caught the edge of one before the panel snapped back into place. A utility label stared at me, but the markings were fresh paint too clean compared to the rust crawling along the other containers.
I learnt a little trick in the past crates dressed as power conduits and spare parts. A disguise clever enough to fool inspectors, but not me. Inside, I didn't even need to check. I could feel the weight of what waited. Accelerants. Fuel. Tools.
The first flames.
"See?" Carrow kept walking, not even slowing. "Noise and shadows. Nothing more."
"Yeah," I muttered. "And you're right. Because shadows never burn anything down."
He didn't catch the sarcasm, or maybe he ignored it. That was his gift: dismissing the obvious until it shoved him off a ledge. Mine was noticing patterns. And this one spelled trouble in handwriting big enough to see from orbit.
Hum… flicker… low murmur.
The Veins weren't quiet anymore. They were restless. Breathing faster. Waiting.
I pressed a hand to the warm metal railing, feeling the pulse beneath it the kind that meant the system wasn't just running. It was straining.
No match had been struck yet, but the smoke was already in the air.
And if Carrow couldn't see it, fine. I'd carry the knowledge alone. The fire didn't need his permission to start.