The chill of the Bureau seemed to cling to Elias like a second skin, but today, a different kind of tension buzzed in the air. He was meeting Juro in a deserted corner of one of the Artificers' Union fabrication labs, a cavernous space usually alive with the whine of plasma torches and the clang of metal. Now, it was dim and quiet, the hulking forms of unfinished constructs casting long, skeletal shadows.
Juro, looking even more nervous than usual, fumbled in a reinforced carrying case. "It's... it's a prototype, Analyst Thorne. Very rare. Very temperamental. Only a handful exist." He pulled out a sleek, intricate device, no larger than Elias's palm. It was a fusion of polished jade and etched silver, with a single, multifaceted crystal lens at its center. This was a Karma Lens, a bleeding-edge Artificer device designed to visualize karmic threads, to render the invisible visible.
"It works by resonating with the subtle etheric energies of the Law of Soul, then projecting them into the visible spectrum," Juro explained, his voice hushed with reverence. "It's meant for deep diagnostic work on complex enchantments, for tracing spiritual pollution. Not... not for this." He gestured vaguely at the air around them, as if indicating the entire concept of karmic manipulation.
Elias took the Karma Lens. It felt surprisingly light, almost alive, in his hand. "How accurate is it?"
"Flawless, in theory," Juro replied, a note of pride in his voice. "It doesn't interpret, it merely shows. The interpretation is up to the user. But be warned, sir. Seeing... it can be disquieting."
Elias activated it. The crystal lens shimmered, then glowed with a faint, inner light. He held it up, directing it towards a stack of raw, unrefined metal alloys. Through the lens, he saw faint, shimmering strands of grey and brown, the karmic residue of the ore's extraction from the earth, the labor involved. It was a tangible representation of the Law of Balance at work, even on inanimate objects.
"Now," Elias said, his voice barely a whisper, "let's see my own karma."
He turned the lens towards himself, raising it to his eye.
The world through the Karma Lens shifted, became a maelstrom of light and shadow. Instead of the clear, defined threads he'd seen on the metal, his own form was surrounded by a churning, chaotic aura. Vibrant greens and golds, representing the good he had subtly orchestrated (Old Man Wen's relief, Juro's brother's recovery), swirled against deepening shades of crimson and inky black. These weren't overt stains, but subtle distortions. The karmic thread he'd tweaked for Elara, the student, now twisted unnaturally, a dark helix around her past good deed. The subtle lie he'd fed to the Sentinel informant about the Bloodkin merchant manifested as a shimmering, deceptive veil.
His manipulations, meant to rebalance the Ledger, were adding unseen weight to his own karmic ledger. He wasn't just observing; he was actively participating, entangling himself deeper with every subtle nudge. The thrill of discovery was replaced by a cold dread. He was becoming a node of imbalance himself, a vortex of distorted karma.
He lowered the lens, feeling a profound sense of unease. He was playing a dangerous game, one that had consequences far beyond the digital realm of the Bureau.
"Are you alright, Analyst Thorne?" Juro asked, noticing his pale face.
"Perfectly," Elias lied, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. He knew he had to be careful. The Karma Lens also revealed something else, something that tightened the knot of paranoia in his stomach. Faint, almost imperceptible threads, similar to his own distorted ones, drifted through the broader karmic currents of Jadeheart. Someone else. Someone else knew the flaw. Someone else was using it. He wasn't alone in this dangerous dance.
He pocketed the Karma Lens, the jade cool against his skin. He needed to understand who else was playing this game.
Back at his desk in the Bureau, late that night, the hum of the Karmic Ledger was louder than ever, or perhaps it was just his imagination. He was poring over Scholar Yan's digitized research, trying to find any mention of other anomalies, other patterns that might hint at another manipulator. His focus was broken by a glint of white on his desk.
A small, folded piece of parchment. It hadn't been there when he left for the Artificer lab. Elias's heart pounded. He unfolded it.
Neatly inscribed in elegant script, just two lines:
"The Ledger sees, but does not judge.""Some prefer the darkness."
Elias stared at the words, his blood running cold. This wasn't a warning. It was a message. And the last line… it wasn't a threat, but a statement of shared purpose. He wasn't just being watched. He was being recruited.