The air inside the silversmith's shop was thick with the scent of ozone and melted metal. Outside, the square remained hushed, but inside, the four of them—Valerius and the three children—had formed a strange, impromptu council around the body of the "static-burnt" Thistlewood.

  "The Warlock didn't just kill him," Ren said, his golden eyes scanning the walls where the shadow of the death was still etched in soot. "He was searching for a resonant frequency. Look at the silver wire on the workbench. It’s been coiled into a Fibonacci spiral. Thistlewood wasn't a victim; he was an antenna."

  Valerius adjusted her Truth-Lenses, the brass gears whirring. She looked at the wire. "A spiral coil for Ether-conduction," she murmured. "But the alloy is wrong. Silver can't hold the 'Deep Vein' energy. It would pop like a fuse."

  "Which is exactly what happened," Kael added, his voice low and steady. He pointed to the floor where the wood was charred white. "The frost in the air here isn't natural. It’s a heat-sink reaction. The Warlock tried to pull the heat out of the room to stabilize the silver, but he pulled too much. He didn't just kill the man; he turned the air into a vacuum."

  Elara tilted her head, her hand hovering over a shattered glass jar. "I can still hear the echo of the snap. It sounds like a cello string breaking under a mountain. The Warlock was desperate. He was rushing. There’s a heartbeat in the walls that doesn't belong here—a rhythmic ticking."

  Valerius looked between the three of them, genuinely impressed. Her father would have spent three days with a forensic team to reach these conclusions; her mother would have taken a week of alchemical tests. These children had done it in minutes, using nothing but their "leaks."

  "Your deductions are sound," Valerius said, her voice carrying a calm, professional respect. "The Federation calls this 'Aetheric Displacement.' The Warlock isn't just a killer; he’s an engineer of the Deep Veins. He’s trying to build a 'Node' inside Oakhaven to bypass the Bridge. If he succeeds, the town won't just be a blind spot; it will be a hole in the world."

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Ren looked at her, his usual irony flickering with a spark of genuine interest. "A hole in the world? Finally, a problem big enough to be worth the effort. You're not bad at this, Detective. Most adults just see a dead man and start praying. You see the blueprints."

  "I was raised by a man who treats a messy room like a crime scene and a woman who treats a crime scene like a riddle," Valerius replied with a dark, calm smile. "I don't have the luxury of prayer."

  Just as the bond between the four began to solidify, a loud, theatrical voice boomed from the doorway, cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a flamboyant trumpet.

  "Ren! My favorite little golden-eyed catastrophe! Tell me, have you finally decided to turn yourself in, or are you just giving the Federation a tour of your latest art installation?"

  Ren froze. A chill that had nothing to do with Kael’s frost raced down his spine. His face, usually a mask of ironic detachment, suddenly flushed a deep red.

  He slowly turned to see a tall, handsome man leaning against the doorframe. The man’s hair was a calculated mess, his coat was expensive yet intentionally frayed, and his eyes danced with a mischief that rivaled Ren’s own. Beside him stood a silver-haired man with the posture of a fortress.

  "Mayor Thaddeus," Ren muttered, his voice uncharacteristically flustered. "I thought you were busy... I don't know, pretending to be incompetent in your office."

  "I was!" Thaddeus beamed, stepping into the shop and looking at Valerius with a charming, annoying grin. "But then I heard a 'Tuner' had arrived, and I simply couldn't miss the chance to see if the daughter of Silas inherited his jawline or his inability to take a joke. I’m Mayor Sterling. And you must be the woman who’s about to realize that Oakhaven is far too pretty to be put in a ledger."

  Ren looked at the floor, refusing to meet the Mayor’s eyes. To the rest of the town, Ren was a genius. To the Mayor, Ren was the only person in the world who could be reliably teased into silence.