Lord Harrington's estate was more fortress than home, its wrought-iron gates like a row of silent, black teeth. A weary-looking Guardian of Balance, a man whose uniform seemed as tired as his eyes, met them at the entrance. His nameplate read 'Kordo.'
"The case is closed," Kordo stated flatly, not bothering to make eye contact. He was reciting a line he had clearly been told to memorize. "A simple burglary. Lord Harrington is resting and won't be seeing any visitors. You should leave."
Ronan deployed his usual charm, a smile that had disarmed more formidable men than this. "We're not here about the burglary, officer. We're consultants for the City Archive. We're merely documenting the provenance of pre-Shattering artifacts in private collections. A formality."
Kordo's expression didn't change. It was a wall of tired indifference. "I have my orders. No one gets in."
It was a dead end. As they were about to turn away, Liam paused. He felt a familiar pull, a faint dissonance in the air around the gatehouse. He stepped forward, feigning to admire the ironwork on the gate. As his fingers brushed against the cold, ornate lock, he closed his eyes. [Temporal Echo].
The world dissolved into a faint, staticky whisper. He didn't see a clear image, but a collection of sensory fragments. The scent of rain on cold stone. The hurried, almost silent footsteps of a woman. A feeling of intense, cold focus—not malice, just… purpose. And a single, clear thought, not his own, echoing through the vision: "The memory is a flaw. It must be corrected."
Liam pulled his hand back as if burned, his breath catching in his throat. He stumbled back, steadying himself against a stone post.
"Liam? What is it?" Ronan asked, his voice low.
"She was here," Liam whispered, his eyes wide. "The woman. I felt her. She… she thought of memory as a flaw."
Ronan's gaze hardened. He looked at Kordo, who was now watching them with a flicker of suspicion. "He's lying," Ronan said quietly to Liam. "His posture, his breathing… he's not just following orders. He's actively hiding something." Using his power was unnecessary; the man's guilt was a palpable thing.
They had their confirmation, but it was a key without a keyhole. A supernatural clue that was useless against a real-world stonewall. Defeated for the moment, they retreated back into the misty streets of Terminus, the feeling of the invisible woman's cold purpose clinging to Liam like a shroud. They weren't just investigating a two-year-old crime anymore. They had stumbled upon a fresh one.