Elias Varn slumped against the wall of Mara's shop, the stink of oil and rust a sharp contrast to Ironhaven's fog outside. His side throbbed where the sentinel's blade had grazed him, blood crusting under his torn shirt. The Gearheart hung heavy against his chest, its runes dim but warm, like a coal refusing to die. Mara bolted the steel door behind them, her bandaged arm stiff as she moved to a workbench cluttered with gears, wires, and half-built machines. Her orb, now dark, sat in a cradle of brass, its runes barely visible. The shop's single gas lamp flickered, casting shadows that danced like the Machine God's whispers in Elias's skull.
"You're bleeding through," Mara said, not looking up as she rummaged through a drawer. She tossed him a rag and a tin of salve, her movements quick but precise, like she'd patched up worse. "Clean it. I'm not playing nurse."
Elias caught the tin, wincing as he pressed the rag to his side. "You're all heart," he muttered, but his eyes stayed on her. The fight in the steamheart's chamber had left them both rattled, and her silence since they'd escaped the collapsing tunnel was louder than the city's hum. She'd admitted the orb was stolen, tied to Thane, but there was more she wasn't saying. The Gearheart pulsed, and he fought the urge to demand answers now.
Mara knelt by the orb, her fingers tracing its surface. "This thing's dead for now," she said, her voice low. "That stunt at the Cog Altar burned it out. But it saved our hides, so don't complain."
"Saved us from a sentinel you didn't warn me about," Elias said, his tone sharp. He stood, ignoring the sting in his ribs, and leaned against the workbench. "You knew Thane was after your orb. You heard him talk about the steamheart. What else aren't you telling me?"
Mara's hand froze, her eyes flicking to the Gearheart under his open coat. "You're one to talk, detective. That pendant's been glowing since the alley, and you're dodging my questions like a Council spy. What's it doing to you?"
Elias's jaw tightened. The visions—the forge, the Machine God's voice, the blood—were his burden, not hers. But the masked figure's words, You carry its heart, gnawed at him. He pulled the Gearheart out, its runes catching the lamplight. "Found it in a pawn shop a month ago. Started seeing things—gears, voices, a chamber. It's tied to the steamheart, same as your orb. That's all I know."
Mara's eyes narrowed, but she didn't push. Instead, she pulled her leather journal from her belt, flipping to a page of sketches: runes, gears, a map of tunnels snaking toward the steamheart's core. "This is what Thane was after," she said. "I stole the orb from a Gearwright lab in the Upper Wards. Thane was there, arguing with someone—a woman, high-ranking. He said the orb could 'speak to the heart.' I didn't stick around to ask questions."
"A woman?" Elias's mind flashed to Councilor Veyra, her sharp eyes and guarded smile at precinct briefings. She was a Gearwright liaison, always too close to the Council's secrets. "Did you see her face?"
Mara shook her head. "Too dark. But she wasn't happy. Thane left, and I grabbed the orb and ran. Next thing I know, he's dead in Gearwright Alley."
Elias paced, the shop's cluttered shelves closing in. Thane's murder, the sentinel, the masked figure—it all pointed to the steamheart and the Machine God. The Order of the Cog was moving fast, and Mara's orb was a piece they wanted. He stopped, his hand brushing the cog from Thane's body, still in his pocket. Its runes matched the Gearheart, the orb, the Cog Altar. "This orb," he said, "you said it's a key. To what?"
Mara hesitated, her fingers tightening on the journal. "The steamheart's core. The Gearwrights built it with failsafes—locks only their tech can open. The orb's runes are part of the code. Thane thought he could use it to control the heart, maybe even shut it down."
"Shut it down?" Elias's voice rose. "The steamheart powers Ironhaven. Stop it, and the city dies—airships, factories, lights, all gone."
"Or it changes," Mara said, her eyes fierce. "The Gearwrights worship the Machine God, but what if it's not a god? What if it's just tech—old, powerful tech—waiting for the right key? Thane wanted to find out. Someone didn't like that."
Elias's head throbbed, the Gearheart pulsing in time with his heartbeat. A vision hit, unbidden: Thane in a dark chamber, the orb glowing in his hands, a woman's shadow behind him, her blade raised. Blood pooled, and Thane's voice whispered, The heart must not wake. Elias gasped, staggering, the shop snapping back into focus. Mara grabbed his arm, her touch grounding him.
"You saw something," she said, not a question. "Tell me."
"Thane," Elias rasped, his throat dry. "He was in a lab, holding your orb. Someone—a woman—killed him. She took something, not the orb. A blueprint, maybe." He clutched the Gearheart, its warmth fading. "It's in my head, Mara. I don't know how, but it's showing me."
Mara's face paled, but she didn't pull away. "The Machine God's script," she said, glancing at her journal. "The runes—they're not just code. They're alive, like a language the steamheart speaks. Your pendant's part of it."
Elias wanted to argue, to call it nonsense, but the visions were too real. He pulled the cog from his pocket, setting it beside the orb. Their runes aligned, forming a pattern that seemed to shift under the lamplight. "We need to find that lab," he said. "If Thane was killed there, it's where the Order's hiding."
Mara nodded, but her eyes flicked to the door. "Not tonight. The Council's got eyes everywhere, and that sentinel wasn't alone. We need rest, and I need to recharge the orb."
Elias opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp knock rattled the door. They froze, Mara's hand on her pistol, Elias's on his revolver. The knock came again, deliberate, and a voice called, "Varn, open up. It's Harrow."
Elias relaxed slightly, but Mara's grip tightened. "Your captain?" she whispered. "He's Council-tied. You trust him?"
"Not sure I trust anyone," Elias muttered, moving to the door. He cracked it open, keeping his revolver low. Captain Harrow stood in the fog, his mechanical arm glinting under a streetlamp. His face was grim, his eyes scanning the shop.
"You're in over your head, Varn," Harrow said, stepping inside without invitation. "Council's breathing down my neck about Thane. They know you were at the steamheart."
Elias's gut twisted. "How? We barely got out."
Harrow's gaze flicked to Mara, then back. "You're not as sneaky as you think. Word's out you've got Gearwright tech." He nodded at the orb on the workbench. "And the Council doesn't like rogue tinkerers poking around."
Mara bristled. "I'm no rogue. That orb's mine."
"Tell that to Councilor Veyra," Harrow said. "She's calling for your arrest, Varn. Says you're obstructing the investigation. I stalled her, but you've got a day, maybe two, before she sends enforcers."
Elias's mind raced. Veyra, the woman in his vision? "What's her angle?" he asked.
Harrow shrugged, his mechanical arm whirring. "She's Gearwright, high up. Thane was her protégé. She's either grieving or covering something. You tell me."
Elias glanced at Mara, her journal still open to the map. The lab Thane died in—it was their only lead. "We need to move tonight," he said. "Veyra's closing in."
Harrow's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lead?"
"Maybe," Elias said, dodging. He didn't trust Harrow, not fully—not with the Gearheart burning a hole in his chest. "Give me till dawn. I'll report in."
Harrow studied him, then nodded. "Dawn, Varn. Don't make me regret this." He turned, his coat flapping as he vanished into the fog.
Mara locked the door, her face hard. "Your captain's playing both sides. He's Council, Elias. He'll sell us out."
"He's bought us time," Elias said, but doubt gnawed at him. Harrow had saved his career once, after the invention that cost him everything. But loyalty in Ironhaven was a rusted gear, easily broken.
Mara grabbed her journal, pointing to a sketch of a lab in the Upper Wards, its tunnels marked with runes. "This is where I stole the orb. It's hidden under a Gearwright temple. If Thane died there, we'll find proof—and maybe the blueprint you saw."
Elias nodded, his side aching but his resolve firm. "We go now. Before Veyra's enforcers show up."
They geared up—Mara with her pistol and a satchel of tools, Elias with his revolver and the cog from Thane's hand. The Gearheart pulsed, a warning or a guide, he couldn't tell. The Upper Wards were Council territory, crawling with automatons and spies. But the visions, the Machine God's voice—they were leading him to that lab, to answers.
The fog was thicker as they stepped outside, Ironhaven's airships droning overhead. Mara's orb flickered faintly, its runes stirring. Elias touched the Gearheart, and a vision flashed: Thane's body, a blueprint unrolling, runes glowing red. A woman's voice, cold and clear: The heart will wake.
They moved into the night, the city's pulse beneath their feet, chasing a truth that could break Ironhaven—or them.
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