Parliament met again in the shadow of smoke.
This time there was no debate, no masquerade of civility. The Speaker announced the decree with the flat tone of a machine: all Anomalists were to be branded within the week. Those who resisted would be executed publicly at the Brass Guillotine, a newly unveiled device of gleaming copper blades powered by steam.
Crowds gathered in the square, their faces pale beneath the glow of gaslamps. The guillotine loomed above them, an executioner's dream wrought in brass and polished cruelty. Its gears turned with hungry rhythm, as though impatient for its first taste of blood.
Elric, Selene, and Evangeline stood hidden in the throng. Around them, fear pressed like chains.
"This is his trap," Selene hissed. "The guillotine is not for killing. It's for breaking them before they can rise."
Evangeline's eyes darted across the machine, reading its song. "It's worse. Each execution feeds energy into the city. With every death, the automaton grows stronger."
The first prisoner was led forth — a young man whose only crime was healing with his touch. The crowd cried out, some in anger, most in silence. The blade rose.
Elric whispered, "Not today."
And as the blade began to fall, shadows erupted across the square. Selene's knives gleamed, Evangeline's machines shrieked, and Elric struck with cold precision.
The guillotine never touched the boy. Instead, it shuddered, gears screaming as Evangeline tore its heart apart. Smoke and chaos filled the square. And for the first time, Parliament itself trembled before the rebellion.