The vial of Lycan Mist sat on Cassians workbench looking like a trapped storm of violet vapor. After the chaos at the werewolf lab the city of Bloom of Misery felt like a drum tightened to the point of snapping. The Syndicates were searching the streets for the scarlet ghost with the bells but Cassian Fleur was already busy blending a different kind of weapon. He wasnt going to fight them with claws or magic he was going to use their own shadows against them.
The Mad Jester knew that the only thing stronger than the High Covens power was their internal jealousy. Lilith ruled the Night Canopy but her rival Morgana the Weaver of Silks controlled the opulent districts where the vampire nobility resided. If he could make them believe that one was stealing the Primeval Blood from the other the resulting explosion would give him the window he needed to reach the Aetheric Seal.
Cassian pulled the Night Falcon feather from his pocket. The feather began to vibrate as he held it over two different perfume bases. He was creating a scent of Treason. For Lilith he crafted a fragrance that smelled exactly like Morganas signature silk-blossom but tainted with the metallic aroma of stolen blood. For Morgana he prepared a scent that mimicked the damp earth and black lotus of Liliths canopy but infused with the sharp ozone of a broken seal.
He pulled the porcelain mask over his face feeling the cold rush of the Mad Jester taking control.
Time to sow the seeds of a very beautiful war he whispered his voice a manic trill.
The Mad Jester moved through the city like a draft of cold air. His first stop was the Crimson Opera House where Morgana was hosting a masquerade for the vampire elite. He didn't enter through the front doors instead he climbed the marble statues and slipped into the ventilation system. He poured the tainted Lilith-scent into the central humidifiers.
Within minutes the grand ballroom was filled with the unmistakable aroma of the Night Canopy. The vampires began to whisper their eyes turning toward Morganas private box. They could smell the betrayal. They could smell Liliths influence in the heart of Morganas territory.
The Mad Jester didnt stay to watch the panic. He skipped across the rooftops toward the North District returning to the obsidian tree of the Night Canopy. He knew Lilith was sensitive to the slightest change in the wind. He shattered the vial of Morganas tainted silk-blossom at the very edge of the trees roots.
The obsidian branches began to writhe and hiss as the scent hit them. Lilith emerged from the wood her void-like eyes burning with a cold green fire. She could smell the silk and the stolen blood. She believed her rival had finally found the source of the Primeval Blood and was keeping it for herself.
The trap was set.
The Mad Jester perched on a nearby spire watching as the first signals of war began to flare across the city. Shadow-wraiths from the Night Canopy began to fly toward the Opera House while Morganas silk-armored guards marched toward the North District. The two most powerful witches in the city were about to tear each other apart over a lie made of air.
A beautiful performance he giggled his bells giving a dull hollow thud. The best jokes are the ones where the audience kills each other before the punchline.
But as the chaos erupted the Night Falcon feather in his pocket gave a violent pulse. It wasnt a pulse of cold but a scream of pure psychic agony. The Mad Jester stopped his laughter. Through the window of the Wind of Souls he caught a new scent drifting up from the center of the city. It was the scent of the Primeval Blood again but this time it was louder more concentrated.
The girl in the starlight was no longer just waking up she was screaming.
The distraction had worked but it had also accelerated the collapse. The Elder Brother and the Guild were using the cover of the witches war to move toward the fountain. They were going to harvest the Essence of Despair while everyone else was distracted by the ghosts he had created.
I may have overplayed my hand Cassian muttered his human voice breaking through the Jesters manic edge.
He leaped from the spire into the swirling mist below. He had to reach the fountain before the Guild finished their distillation. The city was burning around him the sky filled with green magic and crimson silk but his focus was now on the center of the web. He had to use the Night Falcon feather to navigate the collapsing reality and find the girl before she was turned into a permanent battery for the machine.
As he ran the streets began to dissolve. Stone turned to liquid shadow and the smell of rotting lilies became overwhelming. The Aetheric Seal was no longer just cracking it was shattering. The Mad Jester was no longer skipping he was fighting for every breath in a world that was becoming a nightmare.
The final act had begun and the scent in the air told him that the ending was still unwritten.