Frostholm Research Analysis Cell - Reflynne
Pov - Nishi Sayuri
Nishi didn't wait for permission—she never did.
The moment she entered the Analysis Cell, the room hummed to match her mind. Runes brightened along the walls, maps unrolled, and quills hovered above parchment like birds bracing for flight. The staff—scribes, geomancers, arcanists—shifted aside as she strode toward the centerpiece of the room: a giant frost-veined map of Frostholm, half-glowing with the cold patterns drawn by her own hand.
Reflynne's research wing had always been noisy, chaotic, vibrant. Today it was quiet. Every soul watched Nishi Sayuri, the mind that had cracked six cursed artifacts before breakfast and built two magical devices the guild still pretended they fully understood.
She flicked her wrist. The hovering quills descended at once.
"Begin transcription," she said, and the room obeyed.
Yami entered moments later, setting her notebooks down in front of Nishi with the precision of a surgeon placing a heart on a silver tray. Nishi murmured thanks without looking up; her eyes were already shifting between three stacks of data—thermal readings, spiritual residue reports, and hastily written eyewitness accounts.
"Integrate the child's testimony," she ordered.
A scribe cleared his throat. "Which part, ma'am?"
"All of it. Even the nonsense."
Nonsense. Except Nishi didn't believe in nonsense. Children spoke in metaphor because adults failed to listen.
The map pulsed. Frost spread in shifting patterns across its surface, mimicking the real-world expansion. Nishi's fingers hovered above the cold light.
"Let's start."
She pointed to the mountain ridge where the freeze began.
"First variable: the boy's 'big blue bird.' Interpretive model?"
A geomancer answered, "Manifested spiritual form? Aura bleed-off from a high-tier dragon?"
Nishi nodded. "Good. Etheric manifestations often appear simplified to young minds. If a dragon's essence flared beyond stable containment, a child may see it as a bird."
Next, she tapped a sigil representing the Frost Engine.
"And the 'metal monster?' That one's obvious. Mechanical scaffolding… or a guardian construct."
She flicked her hand. A projection of Valerian machinery—sketched from Jose's information—materialized above the table: gears, pipes, mana batteries, and the central prism that held the Engine's core.
"Jose described the framework as metallic. The boy described something big, loud, unnatural. Their accounts align."
The room murmured. Patterns began to emerge.
She circled the two shapes—the dragon essence and the machine—and drew a glowing arc between them.
"Now," she said, "interpret the word 'playing.'"
A young scribe replied cautiously, "Interaction? Coordination? Calibration?"
"Synchronization," Nishi corrected softly. "They were syncing their energies. One living, one constructed."
The runes along the wall flared. She stepped back, folding her arms.
"Meaning the Engine didn't act alone. It never has. It's a parasite with ambition. It latched onto the dragon because the dragon is the only living reservoir large enough to fuel a continental freeze."
Yami's voice was quiet. "And the dragon wasn't fully awake."
"No," Nishi said. "It was suffocating inside itself. Akihiro's report confirmed the twitching, the shallow breath, the spiritual unrest. Coma, but conscious enough to feel pain."
A silence settled across the room.
She turned to the far wall, where red markers sat at the edges of the frost.
"Now add Jose's infodrop. Mechanical specialist. Not a Valerian by birth. He maintained a system he barely understood. His descriptions imply the Engine's stabilizer runes are failing."
A scribe murmured, "So it could collapse?"
"It will collapse," Nishi replied. "But collapse doesn't mean break. Collapse means the freeze spirals out of control. It could reverse into uncontrolled heat. It could explode. It could shatter the dragon's psyche and send its spirit lashing outward, killing anyone within miles."
Her voice sharpened.
"The weapon isn't just dangerous. It's unstable."
The research staff exchanged uneasy glances.
Nishi breathed out slowly, grounding her thoughts. The situation was a knot, and she adored knots—until this one began tightening around too many necks.
She tapped the Frost Engine's projection.
"Ostoria doesn't have the tools to counter this. Not magically. Not mechanically. Not spiritually."
The weight of her words filled the room.
She wasn't being dramatic; she was being precise.
"This isn't a device we can sabotage with a bomb or a strike team. It's a symbiosis between a dying creature and a weapon designed to devour it."
Her finger traced the map's frozen edges.
"The Engine can't be destroyed without killing the dragon. And the dragon can't be freed without risking something worse."
Nishi hated stalemates. They were the enemy of progress.
Yet here it was, cold and absolute.
She stepped forward, quill hovering by her shoulder like a patient ghost.
"Record my conclusion."
The quill obeyed, ink whispering across parchment.
Preliminary Hypothesis:
The Winter's Kiss cannot be stopped by conventional means available to Ostoria.
Any attempt to sever the Engine-dragon link risks catastrophic backlash.
Containment impossible.
Neutralization improbable.
Solution—currently nonexistent.
Nishi closed her eyes for a moment, letting the quiet settle.
Then she opened them again, fiercer than before.
"We're not done. This is only hypothesis one. And hypotheses exist to be beaten."
The fight had only begun.