The rain of Saint Astra City bore the unmistakable perfume of the Industrial Age—coal smoke, iron rust, and damp stone.Eloise Sterling stood beneath the gas lamp of the third-floor corridor, a brass key clenched in her hand, its chill biting into her skin.
The numerals 3B upon the doorplate had nearly eroded into anonymity. Beads of moisture filmed the wooden surface, an unnaturally cold condensation for an interior hallway. She removed her spectacles and polished the lenses with the hem of her shirt. Their brass frames were engraved inside with delicate geometric runes—an instrument essential to her continued participation in ordinary life.
For a single blurred instant, the world altered.
The pupils of the Victorian lady's portrait at the corridor's end rotated to regard her.Within the vine-patterned wallpaper, minute shadow-creatures writhed and nested.And from beneath the door before her, a nacreous glow seeped outward, rising and falling like a breathing lung.
"Eloise, are you certain you want to rent this place?" Zoe called from the stairwell. "The forum said this building—"
"Vera Holloway, maid, starved in 1887. Clara Brown, throat slit in 1923," Eloise interrupted, replacing her spectacles. The world snapped back into clarity—quiet, rational, obedient. "I've consulted the municipal archives."
"And you're still moving in?"
"It's cheap," she said, turning the key. "And I require solitude to calibrate my devices."
The door opened. Warm air rushed out, scented with old book pages, dried roses, and the buttery sweetness of freshly baked scones.
The interior mocked the ruin of the corridor.A crimson Persian carpet lay immaculate. Embers glowed darkly in the hearth. On a mahogany tea table rested fine bone china—three cups stained with tea.
And a fourth cup stood empty, its bottom marked by a small smear of lemon curd.
Zoe's eyes widened. "Impossible… the landlord said this flat's been vacant for two years."
"Go home," Eloise said, retrieving a spirit-energy scanner from her satchel. Its brass needle trembled. "I need to perform an environmental sweep. Your cardiac monitor could be compromised."
Once Zoe departed, the apartment sank into an unnatural hush. The scanner's needle steadied at baseline—until Eloise reached the master bedroom door.
The needle slammed violently to the right, rattling against its limiter.
Soul-Energy Density: 7.3 Annars per cubic foot.Recommendation: Immediate evacuation.
Eloise adjusted the suppression rune on her left lens. A silver mist veiled her vision. She pushed the door open.
Within the chamber floated a young woman, three inches above the floor, her back turned.
She wore a faded Victorian maid's uniform; golden hair was bound neatly behind her head. With slow stirring motions, she shaped an invisible bowl. Silver motes were drawn from every corner of the room and gathered into the translucent vessel in her hands.
"The temperature is dropping again," the woman said suddenly, her voice clear and touched with an old East London accent. "Clara, dear, must you steal the heat as well?"
The shadow in the corner shifted. A paler silhouette nodded—a seated female figure, her throat marked by a dark, endlessly seeping wound. The room warmed at once.
"Good girl." The maid turned toward the doorway. "Oh. A newcomer."
Eloise froze. The suppression rune was still active. She should have been invisible to spirits—
The maid drifted closer, her apron brushing Eloise's nose with nothing but glacial cold."Such curious little toys. Sterling craftsmanship? No… the rune lattice is finer. You've improved upon it."
"Who are you?"
"Viretta. Once a Holloway servant. Now a permanent resident." She sat gracefully upon nothing at all. "Sit. Standing is dreadful for the cervical spine."
Eloise did not move. "You didn't starve. You're harvesting soul-energy."
Viretta's smile deepened, silver starlight flickering in her eyes."A clever girl. I am repaying a debt. Until it is settled, I shall consume every stray soul-particle this city leaks."
She extended her hand. Silver filaments streamed from walls, floor, even from the rim of Eloise's spectacles, condensing into a glowing orb that she tossed into her mouth.
The scanner screamed—energy density plummeting.
"You're destabilizing the ether. You could cause a shadow rift—"
"Oh, she speaks the dialect," Viretta said to Clara, then turned back. "Tell me, have you seen a true rift? Not the textbook engraving, but the way it devours living things?"
Eloise's fingers tightened. The pocket watch beneath her collarbone burned hot—its first reaction to a spirit.
"I thought so," Viretta murmured. "The third sequence of your left suppression rune is cut too deeply. And your scanner technique… far too practiced for academy drills. You've handled field incidents."
"That's none of your concern. If you leave me undisturbed, I won't report you to the Royal Spiritological Society."
Viretta laughed, a sound like silver bells on ice."Report me? My dear, they already know I'm here. Every brick is threaded with warding sigils. I am not a ghost. I am a prisoner."
She gestured. The walls became transparent—or rather, Eloise's spirit-sight intensified. She beheld a vast net of glowing runes woven through the masonry. The script was not human—older, more beautiful, and infinitely cruel.
"Fae script," Eloise whispered.
"Full marks." Viretta clapped—without sound, only sparks of light. "Now you see. I am not a specter. I am something older and far more inconvenient. And those who imprisoned me—and those who taught you to wear those spectacles—likely descend from the same bloodlines."
She floated to the window and traced the glass. Raindrops froze into prismatic stillness beneath her touch."Eloise Sterling, seventh-generation Seer, last blood of your house—we may strike a bargain."
Eloise's heart stuttered. "How do you know—"
"Your watch," Viretta said without turning. "It began to sing the moment you entered. Only Sterling blood can awaken the Time Anchor."
She turned back, all mischief drained from her face, leaving centuries of fatigue."Teach me to deceive these wards for ten minutes each day. In exchange, I will teach you true spirit-sight—not suppression, but command. As naturally as using another hand."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because your suppression rune is failing." Viretta pointed. "Left lens, third sigil—cracked. At this decay rate, three months at most before your sight collapses into chaos. Then the Society will confine you in a Silence Chamber and resolve your instability… permanently. I know how to repair it."
Eloise touched the lens. A hairline fracture crossed the core of the cloaking rune.
"Consider it. Until sunset." Viretta's form began to fade. "Try remaining here without suppression and see how long you endure."
She vanished with Clara.
The apartment fell into absolute stillness. Rain reclaimed the air. The watch burned hot. The spectacles hummed. The scanner needle thrashed madly.
Viretta's final words echoed:
"Daughter of the Sterling line—by my reckoning, your awakening is overdue."