Chapter 5: The Aethelgard Gambit

Chapter 5: The Aethelgard Gambit

Our apartment had transformed from a tense safe house into a frantic, desperate workshop. My desk, usually a creative mess, was now a production line for magical countermeasures. The air, thick with the smell of melted silver, charged herbs, and burning sigils, was our only defense against the suicide mission looming over us. We had less than twenty-four hours.

“Okay, walk me through it again,” I said, not looking up from the intricate knot I was weaving into a leather cord. My fingers, usually nimble, felt clumsy with stress. Malgorath’s shadowy brand on my forearm pulsed with a faint, cold energy, a constant, chilling reminder of the other monster waiting in the wings.

Leo stood by the window, his back to the room. He wasn’t looking out; he was listening. To the city. Since the injection, his world had become a symphony of sensory overload he was slowly learning to conduct.

“The building’s power grid hums in G-flat,” he said, his voice steady despite the impossible situation. “But there are other lines running through the walls. Thinner. They feel… different. Not electric. They sing.”

“Magical conduits,” Sera clarified from the armchair where she was studying a stolen schematic of the Aethelgard tower on a tablet. She looked as calm as if she were planning a weekend getaway, but her unnerving stillness betrayed the coiled tension within her. “They power the Fae wards. Standard tech-disruption charms will be useless.”

“I’m not making standard charms,” I muttered, holding up my handiwork. It was a small, flat disc of polished obsidian etched with a spiraling rune that seemed to trick the eye, making it hard to focus on. “This is a Ward of Technological Apathy. It doesn’t try to jam the signal; it persuades the machine it’s bored and has better things to do than record us.”

Leo turned from the window, his kind brown eyes now possessing a focus that was almost predatory. “It won’t be enough for the living security. I can hear heartbeats. Dozens of them. And they’re… fast. Too fast for humans.”

“Fae Praetorians,” Sera said without looking up from the tablet. “Genetically and magically engineered. They can smell adrenaline from fifty yards.”

My own heart hammered at the thought. The empathic link between us flared.

Fear, Leo’s voice echoed in my mind, a soft, concerned thought that was now as clear as if he’d spoken aloud. It was our newest, strangest asset. We had spent the afternoon practicing, turning the bond from a liability into a silent, instantaneous communication line.

I know, I thought back, focusing on my work to keep the panic from spiraling. Working on it.

I picked up a trio of silver rings, each one engraved with a different shimmering glyph. “Charms of Unnoticeable Presence. They don’t make you invisible. They just make you exceptionally uninteresting. You’ll register as ‘that guy from accounting’ or a flickering fluorescent light. A background detail the mind automatically discards.”

For the next few hours, we armed ourselves with my strange, bespoke magic. Stealth, misdirection, technological disruption—I poured every ounce of my skill and desperate energy into these small tokens, twisting my craft into something it was never meant for: breaking and entering.

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The Aethelgard Industries tower was an insult to the sky. It was a twisting spire of iridescent glass and living wood that seemed to shift and change color in the moonlight. Unlike the Vaduva Clan’s cold, corporate monolith, this place felt alive, ancient and alien. The air around it tasted of petrichor and ozone.

We went in through the service levels, a series of tunnels that felt more like the root system of a colossal tree than a building’s foundation. Luminescent moss grew in patterns that mimicked circuit boards, casting an eerie green glow on our faces.

“Cameras ahead,” Leo’s thought was a sharp, clear signal in my head. “They’re not just seeing light. I can feel a… warmth from them. They’re looking for heat signatures. And something else. A flicker. Like your magic.”

I nodded, slipping one of the obsidian wards from my pocket and rolling it down the corridor. As it passed under the camera’s lens, the small red recording light didn’t go out; it just seemed to glaze over with indifference, its attention drifting.

We moved in a tight, silent formation. Leo was our scout, his vampirically-enhanced senses and our mental link acting as an early warning system. I was the magical technician, deploying my handcrafted solutions. Sera was the weapon, a shadow at our flank, her silver stiletto in hand, ready for the moment subtlety failed.

Deeper in, the security became more esoteric. There were no laser grids or pressure plates, but the hallway in front of us shimmered, and Leo stopped dead.

Wait, he sent, his mental voice tight with alarm. The air is… wrong. It’s sharp. Like a plucked string. If you touch it, it’ll scream.

A sonic tripwire woven from pure magic. Brute force would be useless.

“Misdirection,” I whispered, pulling out a small, flat stone carved with a glyph of a forked path. I tossed it down a side corridor. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the shimmer in front of us flickered, its attention drawn to the echo of movement from the other hall. The magical ‘string’ loosened, its focus diverted just long enough for us to slip past.

We navigated a labyrinth of shifting corridors and rooms where the laws of physics felt more like polite suggestions. The Matriarch’s schematics were a loose guide at best. This place wasn’t built; it was grown.

Finally, we reached our destination, designated on the schematic as the ‘Core Vault.’ There was no door. The hallway simply ended in a solid wall of polished, seamless obsidian.

“Now what?” I breathed, my heart sinking.

Sera ran a hand over the wall. “No seams, no mechanism. It’s Fae.”

Leo closed his eyes, tilting his head. “The conduits… the singing. It’s loudest here. But it’s not a solid wall. It’s… a riddle.” He pointed to a section of the wall where the light from the moss seemed to pool and swirl. “It wants something.”

I stepped closer, studying the swirling patterns of light. It wasn’t random. It was a lock, but one that required a key of pure magic. A specific frequency. A specific intent. Any attempt to force it would trigger every alarm in the building.

But we weren’t here to force it. We were here to steal.

I took a deep breath, pulling out my last, most complex talisman: a small, intricately carved wooden bird. I held it in my palm and pushed a single, clear intention into it: I belong here. I am returning what was lost. It was a lie, but Fae magic responded to story and intent more than raw power.

I gently touched the bird to the wall. The light swirled, tasting my intention. It hesitated, then, like tumblers in a lock clicking into place, the light patterns solidified into an archway. The obsidian wall dissolved into a shimmering, silent waterfall of shadow, revealing the room beyond.

The vault was cold and sterile, a stark contrast to the rest of the building. It was a circular chamber, lit by a soft, internal glow. In the absolute center of the room, on a raised dais, was a large, crystalline pod, easily seven feet tall. It hummed with a contained, potent energy. Wires and what looked like living, silvery vines snaked from the pod into the floor.

“The Heartstone of the Glade,” Sera murmured, her voice tight with anticipation. “It’s inside.”

We approached cautiously. My creation, my little lie, had gotten us through the door, but the feeling of alien power in here was immense. The shadowy mark on my arm began to ache, a cold throb that resonated with the Fae magic in the room.

As we got closer, we could see through the crystal. It wasn’t a gemstone on a pedestal.

It was a person.

Suspended inside the pod, floating in a pale, glowing liquid, was a young woman. She had pointed ears and hair like spun moonlight. Her face was serene, her eyes closed in a deep, enchanted sleep. The silver vines were connected directly to her, at her temples, her heart, her hands. She was beautiful, she was terrifying, and she was undoubtedly Fae.

Leo’s shocked thought slammed into me. Pip… it’s not a thing. It’s a her.

Sera stared, her usual icy composure finally cracking. Her grey eyes widened in dawning horror and understanding. “The Matriarch… that manipulative old bitch…”

The truth hit me with the force of a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. The Vaduva Clan hadn’t sent us to steal an artifact to disrupt the balance of power. They had sent us to steal the power source itself. The ‘Heartstone of the Glade’ wasn’t its name. It was its title.

We weren’t thieves. We were body snatchers.

Our simple theft had just become a kidnapping.