The laughter died in his throat, tapering into a shallow cough that scraped against the raw walls of his neck. Elias, no, Alucent, he reminded himself again, slumped back against the edge of the desk, chest heaving. His breath came in tight, dry pulls like he hadn't had water in days. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe the body had been dormant until he showed up. Or maybe it was just part of this... whatever this was.
His hand, still smeared in blood, trembled slightly as he wiped his mouth. He looked down. No new blood. Good. For now.
The cottage was dead quiet except for the low, almost imperceptible hum of the Steamsewer and a faint ticking from somewhere behind the wall. Alucent stood slowly, the legs he now owned stretching out beneath him like stilts. Tall. Too tall. Everything about this body was wrong.
He stumbled forward, catching himself on the desk again, then tried another step. Long limbs. Too fluid. A ghost's body made of wire and silk. He passed a mirror. no, the brass plate again. Same face. Same eerie handsomeness he still couldn't quite accept as his own. Pale. Almost translucent skin. Veins like silver threads just beneath the surface.
He ran a hand through his hair, black curls tumbling over his shoulder in a way that made his inner Elias want to scream. He'd never had hair past his ears, let alone something this... dramatic.
Hunger hit him then, low and gnawing, like something feral had just woken up in his gut. His throat still felt like sandpaper. He needed water. Food. Something. Anything.
Okay. No more freaking out. Time to move.
He staggered toward the back of the room, through a narrow archway into what must have been the bedroom. The Ironvine floors creaked softly under his bare feet, polished smooth but inlaid with thin lines of brass filigree. Fancy. Expensive-looking. Definitely not the IKEA laminate of his old apartment.
A brass washbasin stood in the corner, curved and delicate, like something from a high-end Victorian catalog. A hand pump jutted from the wall beside it, all gears and knobs and curling tubes.
"Please work," he muttered, grasping the handle.
It took three stiff pumps before anything happened. Then a groan came from somewhere deep in the walls, followed by a sluggish sputter of water from the basin's spout. The water ran clear, steaming faintly, like it had come from pipes too close to something magical.
Alucent cupped his hands and drank. It tasted like copper and smoke, but it was wet and cold and it went down without burning. His throat sighed with relief.
When he looked up, he saw it in the corner of his eye.
A shimmer.
Not on the wall. Not on the mirror. On himself.
As he moved, a soft flicker of light followed. Like heat distortion. Or a ripple in the air. He stopped moving. It vanished. He shifted again. It returned.
"That can't be good," he muttered.
He reached for the edge of the washbasin to steady himself, but the moment his fingers touched the brass, it glowed faintly. A pulse, like acknowledgment.
Oh, that's not terrifying at all.
He made his way back to the main room. The hearth was cold, but beside it was a small stone cube set into a wall recess. It had a strange rune carved into it, a single curve intersected by three sharp points. A faint warmth radiated from it.
He crouched and held his hand near it.
"Heatrune," he whispered, the word arriving uninvited. Alucent's memories, or maybe the ring's.
Careful fingers grazed the rune, and the warmth increased. The stones inside the hearth began to glow ever so faintly. Nothing burst into flame, but he definitely didn't freeze either.
"So... heating stone. Check."
His eyes drifted to the Steamsewer again, the brass machine from earlier, now sitting quietly near the desk. Just for the hell of it, he reached out and touched the small dial near its base.
Click.
The gears inside began to turn, almost lazily. A soft hum vibrated up through the floor. One of the side vents hissed open and released a little plume of steam.
Alucent blinked. "Well... hi there."
It wasn't just a sewing machine. It was... aware? Responsive? Semi-sentient maybe? A warm mist brushed his ankles. His stomach growled.
Okay. Tech that reacts to touch. Magic rocks that heat the house. And water that tastes like smoke. Got it.
"But no food," he muttered.
He was starting to get lightheaded. The analytical part of his brain, the one that used to budget groceries and track bills was kicking in hard.
He needed resources. Food, water, currency, information.
There had to be something outside. There was always something outside.
But first, the door.
He moved toward it, muscles still learning what they were supposed to do. The door itself was a work of art, Ironvine Wood, dark and smooth, carved with elegant floral patterns that shimmered faintly in the morning light.
A metal mechanism sat embedded just beneath the handle. Tiny gears. Brass overlay. It didn't look like a deadbolt. It looked... smarter.
He reached out, unsure of what to do.
A small rune near the latch began to glow faintly.
"Oh. Okay then."
He pressed his hand down on the handle and twisted. The gears clicked. A soft mechanical thud echoed from within the door.
Alucent braced his shoulder against it and pushed.
The door opened.
Light poured in. Not sunlight, not really. Too soft. Too clean. But it warmed his skin anyway.
Outside.
He took a step forward onto a smooth cobblestone path, the stones fitted with care, each one slightly different but arranged like a mosaic. The cold bit at his toes, but the air was fresh. Wet earth. Faint traces of coal smoke. Something floral, something metallic.
The breeze teased his hair. His long black curls shimmered faintly in the light.
To his right, a small garden hummed softly. Glowroses—they had to be—lined the beds. Half flower, half machine, their petals opened and turned gently in the air, ticking softly with each subtle shift. A low, amber light glowed at their core.
A brass astrolabe rested on a stand near the edge of the porch, delicate rings spinning slowly in rhythm with something he couldn't see. The porch itself wrapped around the cottage, supported by thin cast-iron pillars.
Down the path, gas-powered Lanternposts flickered in the distance, casting soft halos even in daylight.
The world looked like a painting someone had breathed life into.
And for the first time since waking up, Alucent felt... something else. Not terror. Not nausea.
Hope, maybe. Curiosity.
He took a breath. The air filled his lungs and felt charged. Not electric, but close. Like the moment right before a storm hits.
Something flickered in his peripheral vision.
He turned his head slowly.
A figure stood at the far end of the path. Not moving. Just... there. Watching.
They wore a long coat. Something glinted in the sun near their eye. A brass monocle.
Alucent froze.
The figure didn't wave. Didn't speak. Just watched.
A shiver ran down his spine.
So much for peaceful mornings.