11 JANUARY 2010 AFTER SOVEREIGNS
TIME : EVENING 4:33
FENRIS
"Were the monsoons always this wet in London? Seems to me they grow worse every year." the police officer, Medissa wondered, leaning toward the wagon window. Her moss-green hair stirred in the damp wind as she held out a hand, letting the cold droplets gather in her palm. "Hopefully, it's raining this much in the countryside too. The farmers will be happy, at least."
"Well, the people of Lumble Street aren't quite as pleased, their houses have flooded, apparently." the other officer said. He had introduced himself as Nathaniel. Beneath the afternoon light, his bright red hair burned like polished copper, an almost cheerful colour against the dreary rain.
"Trust me, as someone who used to live in that street, I know better than anyone how brutal these monsoons get," Medissa said, leaning against the wagon frame. A second later, the wooden wheel slammed into a rut, spraying a plume of murky rain across her palm. She yanked her arm back into the dark carriage "Ugh.., I despise monsoons."
"You seemed quite fond of the rainfall moments ago, Medissa," Nathaniel teased with a smirk.
"But, Nathaniel, the rain makes the whole thing look grimmer, doesn't it? The wreckage. The bodies. The blood…" Her expression darkened as she stared through the wagon window, as though the rain might offer an answer if she watched it long enough.
Whatever small comfort their lighthearted conversation had given me vanished. The weight of what had happened settled over me again, heavy as the storm outside. The exhaustion returned first, followed closely by the fear I had been trying so desperately to forget. I drew a deep breath and the red haired officer noticed.
"Are you ready, young one?" he asked, concern softening his handsome features. "
"We've reached the Imperial Police Station. Do as I told you, and everything will be alright."
I nodded. I wasn't ready, of course, but I nodded anyway, forcing myself to appear confident for Nathaniel. He had been kind throughout the journey, offering quiet reassurance whenever the silence became too heavy. When the police wagon finally came to a stop, he helped me down. Then he rested a gentle hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the Inspector's office. Medissa followed close behind.
We waited outside the Inspector's office while another survivor gave their statement. Muffled voices came from behind the heavy oak door. I couldn't make out the words, but hearing them only made me more nervous. Eventually, the door creaked open. A policewoman stepped through the door with another survivor in tow. The red-haired constable caught her eye, and for a moment, the two exchanged a silent understanding—something unspoken passing between them. Nathaniel turned to Medissa and told her to wait outside, then gestured for me to follow him through the open doorway.
My Turn
The office was warmer than the corridor. It smelled of stale cigar smoke, dust, and old paper-the kind of scent that settled into wood and never left. Behind a broad oak desk sat a stout man with iron-grey hair and a heavy moustache. He looked well into middle age, his uniform pressed to perfection despite the long day. A brass nameplate caught my eye.
Inspector Fredrick Brunsom.
"Sir," the constable said, "this is Fenris, one of the survivors. The doctors say he's coherent enough to give a statement."
I offered a small nod in greeting.
The Inspector returned it.
He opened the ledger before him. "Fenris.." he murmured "Servant in the employ of House Waeris, London. Eighteen years of age." He looked up over the rim of his spectacles. "Take a seat, Mr. Fenris."
I did. The constable remained behind my chair, silent as a statue.
"We apologise for troubling you so soon after the incident. You've endured enough and ought to be resting, but an attack in Victoria's capital affords us little time. We must act swiftly to prevent another."
The Inspector leaned his forearms against the scarred oak desk. The Interrogation began.
"So, Mr. Fenris. You were present at the Taylon Auction House when the incident occurred?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Start there. Tell me why you were there, and everything you remember. If something seemed unusual, no matter how insignificant it seemed at the time, I want to hear it. Every detail may prove important."
"I was there at the hall on my master's orders. He wished to acquire a black cane that was to be auctioned that very afternoon." I explained "He was unable to attend in person, and so he entrusted the bidding to me. I had never set foot in such an establishment before, sir. I knew nothing of auctions, nor the high customs of such gentry. So I asked Master Regis to accompany me. For he understood such matters far better than I."
A faint, bitter smile tugged at my lips despite all that had transpired—recalling how, merely hours prior, the grand hall had felt less like a place of ruin and more like an adventure to two overeager youths.
"Master Regis?" the inspector's brows knit.
"He is my master's son, sir," I replied. "And, though it may not be my place to say so... my closest friend."
The Inspector nodded for me to continue.
"The auction had already commenced by the time we arrived. The hall was crowded—nobles, merchants, collectors... people from all sorts of high society. Everyone seemed eager for the auction, but there was one man who seemed to draw everyone's attention. Or perhaps…their unease"
I expected the Inspector to narrow his eyes or lean forward, some flicker of interest crossing his face. Instead, he remained perfectly still—as though he already knew what I was about to say.
"People whispered about him," I continued. "They spoke his name... Alistair Carnade."
"The infamous royal bastard," he said quietly.
"I... I think so."
"And what were they whispering?"
"They called him a rogue... declared that misfortune followed wherever he set foot. Some even wondered aloud what business brought him to the auction house at all."
"Did he bid?"
"Yes, sir. For a gun... and the black cane."
I thought for a moment.
"Though he wasn't the only unexpected bidder. Mr. Rupert Taylon, the proprietor of the establishment himself, entered the fray, placing bids for the cane."
"What happened next, Fenris?"
A heavy silence descended upon the room. I racked my mind for the answer, searching every dark corner of my memory as I had been doing all along.
"I do not know."
"You do not know?"
"It..." My voice faltered. "It is strange."
"Go on."
"It does not feel as though I forgot. It feels... as if a sudden slumber stole over me. Like a dream, or living a memory of my past a second time. And the very next thing I recall was awakening beneath the open sky. The auction house was reduced to nothing but rubble."
The Inspector fell silent for a long moment, his gaze drifting away as though lost in some dark, distant calculation. At last, he looked past me toward the constable standing guard at the door and uttered a heavy grunt.
"This is bad, Nathaniel. Very bad. Every last survivor tells the selfsame tale. The bastard prince is the only suspicious figure anyone can name and then, nothing. A complete blank. Not one soul can recall what happened afterward. But if the Royal Family is dragged into this, things are going to get worse."
He rubbed his eyes with a long, weary sigh, realizing only amidst his own ramblings that I was still sitting before him.
"That will be all, Fenris. You've been most helpful. You may go." he said, leaning back in his chair. Nathaniel, led me out.
As we walked down the corridor toward the exit, Nathaniel rested a hand on my shoulder. "Kid, whatever happened in that auction house, don't you worry about it. That's our job now. We'll figure it out." He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before his expression turned thoughtful. "Though there is one thing. Your master sent you for that black cane. Do you know why? What made it so important?"
I shook my head negatively. I paused, letting a few seconds elapse before speaking up. "Officer, would it be possible to drop me off at the medical facility before we go to House Waeris? I need to check on Regis's condition."
"Well, before we go anywhere, I was thinking we could grab a coffee or get you something to eat. You've got to be starving, right?" the officer said, offering a small, reassuring smile.
"Um… thank you, really, but I don't think I'm—" Out of nowhere, someone squeezed right into the narrow space between us, brushing against my shoulder.
"Look, Fenris, caffeine is great for clearing up brain fog," Medissa's playful voice rang directly in my ear. "Maybe it'll help you remember something about what happened. Plus, dealing with a hungry stomach is a total pain in the ass, so up we go."
"No, Medissa, you're staying put," Nathaniel said, shutting her down without hesitation. "Fenris and I are going. I need you to stay here and handle the station's busywork."
I watched the disappointment spread across her face, only for it to be instantly replaced by a wave of furious red that washed over her face. "That's so unfair, Nathaniel! Freya just took off to the canteen with the other survivor—I'm not stupid, I know you're just looking for an excuse to go flirt with her! Can't you keep it in your pants for two seconds while the literal city is under attack?!"
A few tears escaped before she turned away and hurried down the corridor. Around us, the other officers had suddenly found very interesting reasons to look in our direction.
"Don't sweat it, kid," Nathaniel murmured under his breath. "Come on, let's go."
I kept my mouth shut, following him straight to the police canteen because honestly, I had no clue what to even say after a scene like that. The canteen was pretty quiet, but right near the window sat the female officer who had walked off with the other survivor earlier. Looking at her up close, her style was pretty distinct—short blonde hair that faded into pitch black right at the tips.
We slid into the chairs across from her, but my eyes immediately scanned the room. The other survivor was completely gone. I felt a weird sting of realization—maybe Medissa wasn't just being dramatic after all. Were these two actually using a literal emergency as a cover for a private date? And why on earth was I dragged along like some awkward third wheel?
"You two took your sweet time!" she declared, giving us a sharp look as we sat.
"I've already spoken to my little one and sent her home."
"We came straight here from the interrogation room, but Medissa intercepted us," Nathaniel replied smoothly.
"Ah, of course. Your girlfriend just can't stay away, can she?" Freya smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned forward, bringing her face dangerously close to Nathaniel's, making him instantly snap upright in his seat. "Honestly, I kind of envy Medissa. Having such a hot boyfriend must be nice."
I watched the exchange in silence. So this was Freya—the same name Medissa had mentioned only moments ago.
"She's not my girlfriend!" Nathaniel said sharply, his face turning dead serious. "I think it's about time we started"
I finally voiced my confusion. "Excuse me, but what exactly are we doing here?"
Nathaniel turned his attention to me. "We're going to find out what happened during the incident. Consider this an interrogation the official Imperial Police doesn't know about."
"I wouldn't call this an interrogation," Freya interjected. "It's more like psychometry. You know—the ability to see memories by touching a person."
She leaned back in her chair, watching my confusion with an almost amused expression. "The ordinary Imperial Police deal with things people understand. Murders, robberies, corruption, terrorism—the ordinary horrors of the world. We are the department that secretly handles phenomena that the public is forced to believe as myth: supernatural anomalies, aphenic manifestations, and cursed objects. In short, we're the magical police, if you can call it."
"Supernatural? Magical?" I shook my head, unable to make sense of any of it. "There's no way magic exists in this world."
Freya's lips curved into a sad, almost tender smile. "Oh, it exists, little lamb. People just aren't allowed to remember it. Memories get tampered with, buried, or swapped out entirely. That is how we have kept the truth concealed in Victoria for generations. The whole damn country is under a massive spell that controls everyone's memories and perception of the supernatural."
I said nothing. I could hardly comprehend what she was telling me.
"We suspect the incident may be connected to something supernatural," she continued. "And if that's the case, then your memories have almost certainly been altered. All I need to do is bypass the spell and see what has been hidden from you."
"The moment your psychometry ends, the spell will take hold of his memory again. He'll forget all of this. So what's the point of explaining?" Nathaniel said, shooting Freya an exasperated look.
Ignoring the man's words, Freya reached across the table, extending her arm with her palm turned upward in a silent invitation. I hesitated, then placed my hand in hers. She closed her eyes. For a breath, the air stayed dead and still and then the world buckled. My eyelids slammed shut against my will, and the breath was dragged straight from my lungs.
Suddenly, my consciousness was dragged back to the auction house. The noise. The crowd. The voices. Everything I had experienced that day came rushing back at once, vivid and overwhelming, as though I were living through it all over again. But this time, I wasn't alone. Freya was there with me.
I lost all track of time, but suddenly the connection broke and my eyes flew open. Freya was gasping for air, her face pale as bone, eyes wide with horror and the very same ice was freezing the blood in my veins.
What in God's name had we just witnessed?
Nathaniel had already noticed something was wrong. He leaned forward, suddenly alert. "What happened? Freya?"
By then, the canteen had begun to quiet, heads turning toward our table, noticing the tension.
Freya took a slow breath, forcing herself to regain her composure before speaking.
"At first, everything was as expected, matching what the other survivor had described. Then, just like the others, the vision shifted into an old memory. In his case, it was a scene from his past with his master." Her gaze shifted to me, and I gave a barely perceptible nod, recognizing the specific mental record. "And then… right after that memory faded, the entire auction house was already leveled. It was completely destroyed, and sitting right in the center of the carnage was a…"
"A what, Freya? Speak up!" Nathaniel pressed, his voice rising slightly.
"A shining silver egg," Freya whispered, her stare pinning me to my seat. "It cracked open, and…..and an angel emerged from within."
"It looked like an angel," I rasped, my words faltering beneath the weight of the vision. "It had wings, light… but something was horribly wrong with it. It didn't feel holy. It looked… tainted."
Freya swallowed hard, raw panic still painted plainly across her face. "Even through a second-hand memory, that entity's presence was suffocating. I've dealt with my fair share of psychopathic villains, but its blood lust surpassed anything I had ever witnessed in a criminal. It was an unholy, wretched thing. The spell erasing his memories was a mercy."
She looked down at her lap, going completely still for a second. Then her head snapped up, her eyes widening in total disbelief as she locked onto me. "Wait a second!" she gasped. "Do you remember it? Do you remember what we saw?"
"Before you grabbed my hand and did that Psychometry thing, I had zero recollection," I confessed, shaking my head. "But now it's totally vivid. I remember seeing that angel hatch right out of the egg, and I definitely felt that insane bloodlust. Thank God the memory spell sealed it off in the first place."
Freya shook her head in disbelief. "How do you still remember?" The second my spell interface closed, the memory-wipe spell should've overridden your brain all over again!"
Nathaniel let out a deep, heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. "There's only one reason," he said quietly. "His Aphenes have been awakened."