The masquerade glittered like fire upon brass. In the Grand Atrium of the Ministry of Progress, nobles in jeweled masks swirled to the music of mechanical violins. Chandeliers of crystal gears spun overhead, scattering rainbow sparks of light.
But beneath the laughter and perfume lingered suspicion. Elric, cane in hand, wove among the revelers with Selene at his side. She wore a mask of black feathers, blending like a shadow amid the finery. Hollis lingered near the balcony, his soldier's posture too stiff to hide. Evangeline adjusted a brass mask shaped like an owl, muttering that the machinery of the violins was off by half a note.
They were not here to dance. They were here to spy.
In a side chamber, Elric overheard what he had feared: a minister, monocle glinting, whispering to another masked figure about new decrees — laws that would see Anomalists confined, marked, or executed. Words seeded by the Phantom Engineer.
Selene's hand brushed Elric's. "He's turning the city against us."
Before Elric could reply, the chandeliers flickered. A mechanical violin screeched, gears locking. The music stopped. And in the silence, a voice slithered through the pipes:
"Dance, my little puppets. Dance while I build perfection beneath your feet."
Panic rippled through the crowd. Nobles gasped, masks fell. Hollis drew his revolver. But when guards burst into the chamber, their rifles leveled — it was not toward the ceiling they pointed.
It was toward Elric and his companions.