Jay's gaze skittered across the room – cold metal walls etched with faint, glowing circuits, the soft yellow light emanating from recessed panels (definitely not asking about that), the organized chaos of research, tables buried under scrolls, strange glass apparatus, and papers covered in diagrams that hurt his eyes to look at. It felt less like a workshop and more like the belly of some arcane beast.
"Right," he said softly, the word tight. "Workshop. Got it. And… where exactly is this delightful dungeon? Actually," he held up a hand, the memory of Lidia's invasive "demonstration" still raw, "scratch that. Forget I asked. Just… point me towards the exit. Home. Now."
Lidia sat perched on an armchair that looked like it belonged in a star-ship captain's quarters – sleek curves, unfamiliar dark material, utterly out of place. She crossed her legs, casting him a look of pure, icy condescension. "Kidnapping is such a crude term, Jay Boron. And inaccurate. You were transported here. Efficiently. Painlessly. By my protege." The word 'protege' dripped with unmistakable pride, like a jeweler displaying a flawless diamond. "On the Matriarch's direct order, following your… inconclusive meeting. Consider it expedited relocation for your own safety."
Jay's battered sense of humor, his old shield against the world's absurdity, flickered weakly. He managed a strained, lopsided grin. "Your protege, huh? Sounds impressive. And where is this paragon of polite abduction? Off polishing your dissection tools?"
Lidia didn't rise to the bait. Instead, a soft, almost maternal smile touched her lips – far more unsettling than her clinical stare. "He's always nearby when needed." Her ice-blue eyes rolled back abruptly, showing only white.
The air beside her shivered. Not a sound, but a palpable vibration Jay felt in his teeth, a sudden pressure drop that made his ears pop. Space itself seemed to fold, twist, and then release.
A figure materialized.
Not faded in. Appeared. Solid, instantaneous.
He couldn't have been more than sixteen. Slender, dressed in dark, practical clothes that seemed to drink the strange yellow light. Black hair fell carelessly over sharp, intelligent eyes. And on his face, as he stepped smoothly forward, was a smirk so perfectly, effortlessly smug it could have been trademarked.
"You called, Miss Lidia?" His voice was clear, confident, carrying an undercurrent of amusement as his gaze flickered dismissively over Jay, taking in his disheveled state, the lingering sweat from nightmares, the wariness in his eyes. The boy's posture radiated casual power, the ease of someone who could step through walls and thought nothing of it.
Jay stared, the sarcastic quip dying on his tongue. The casual display of power – slammed into him harder than Lidia's psychic dissection. This wasn't just a researcher. This was a kid who could move him like a piece on a chessboard. And he looked far too pleased with himself.
Lidia's eyes refocused, her smile widening as she looked at the boy.*"Ah, Silas. Perfect timing. Our guest, Jay Boron, was just inquiring after you. And expressing a… desire to return home." She gestured towards Jay with a languid wave. "Perhaps you could reassure him of the efficiency and discretion of our transportation methods?"
Silas's smirk deepened. He gave Jay a small, mock-courteous bow that was somehow more insulting than outright disdain. "Silas Reed, Mr. Boron. At your service. Or rather," he added, his eyes glinting with a challenge, "at Miss Lidia's. Need a lift?"
Jay's hand instinctively found the reassuring shape of Tom's pocket watch in his pocket, its familiar weight a tiny anchor in a room that suddenly felt terrifyingly fluid. Escape wasn't just barred by a door anymore. It was barred by a boy who could probably drop him into the middle of the canal without breaking a sweat. He'd walked into the Serpent's den, and now he realized the Matriarch wasn't the only predator here. Some wore velvet gloves. Others wore the smug smiles of teenagers who could bend reality to their will.
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