Charlotte called them to a demonstration. In a sealed, heavily shielded sub-lab, a vial of silver, corrupted entropy—un-water—was held in a force field.
"Subject 7-Alpha," she announced to a small group of senior researchers. "A byproduct of the refinement process. Highly volatile, as you know."
With a control, she directed a thin beam of pure, blue Vitae into the vial. The reaction was not the violent geyser of the Echoing Font, but a controlled, terrible inversion. The blue Vitae didn't just corrupt; it turned a dull, lifeless grey, its energy signature flatlining. It was neutralized. Made inert.
"A targeted application," Charlotte said, a glint of cold triumph in her eye, "can sever the magical and energetic bonds of standard Aqua Vitae. It creates a localized null field. A perfect weapon against any… recalcitrant infrastructure, or biology, dependent on the flow."
She was showing them the ultimate tool of control. Not just rationing, but the power to annihilate the resource itself at a touch. To turn life into void.
Rex, present for the demo, clapped his hands softly. "A defensive application! To safeguard the source from any external contamination! Proactive purification!"
Regina merely logged the results. "Yield is currently low. Efficiency must increase by three hundred percent for practical deployment."
Sage felt sick. They weren't just weaponizing the scream. They were bottling the silence that came after it.