Unwritten Codes lll

I raced down the hallways of the Lunovienne Institute, the sound of my footsteps sharp against the polished metal floors. My breath came quick and shallow as I dodged groups of students, their eyes glued to data pads, fingers dancing over screens in a rhythm I knew all too well. Snippets of conversation floated around me—bursts of laughter, muttered curses over last-minute revisions, the hum of theories exchanged in hurried voices. The air felt charged, alive with ambition and nerves.

Through the wide panes lining the hall,fixed with translucence window cutouts, I caught glimpses of the city. Port Audren glistened under encroaching snippets of dusk, towers reaching up like fingers straining toward the sky. On the other side of this city that cosplays as a warm ,sunny paradise where at certain times of day you could catch the first salty draft of seawater through your windswept hair ,neon lights flickered and buzzed, bathing everything in an electric haze of pinks and blues. Transit lines looped in perfect, synchronized arcs between buildings, their sleek, glowing carriages ferrying passengers who stared blankly at their phones. The city had a way of looking alive but feeling hollow, like an intricate clockwork that didn't care what moved its gears.

I was gulping in more and more hurried breaths by the time I approached the end of the corridor. My lab was just ahead, a pocket of space I claimed with my friend Mira ,amidst the Institute's sterile sprawl. The end of the hallway stretched out, narrowly built, off white silver lined panels framing up each side.I pushed through the door, and the familiar scent of chemical and cold metal enveloped me,for anyone else coming in here ,would be akin to shoving yourself face first at the pill boxes in the medicinal aisle but for me the smell was grounding in a way that nothing else was.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the small lamp on my workbench, casting a warm circle over the scattered blueprints and tools. I took a moment to catch my breath, my gaze settling on the centerpiece of it all: the prototype. A humanoid figure with smooth, bronze limbs, standing silently with its arms at its sides, its face featureless but somehow not empty. It was unfinished, a shell with potential humming beneath the surface, and the sight of it always sent a thrill through me, a reminder of why I kept going even when the doubts crept in.

I ran my fingers over its frame, feeling the cool metal and the tiny, intricate seams where the pieces met. This was my space, my sanctuary where the hum of the city faded and I could lose myself in something that felt real. My eyes flitted over my scattered notes, sketches curling at the edges and marked with smudges, each one a moment of inspiration or frustration etched into paper.

The door creaked open behind me, and I didn't need to turn to know who it was. Mira had a way of making her presence known without trying. "You know, Davina ,one of these days you're going to run so fast you'll break the sound barrier, you could should've taken a transit".

I smirked, looking over my shoulder. "What, and miss the chance to make a dramatic entrance?"

She stepped into the room, arms folded, dark hair spilling over one shoulder. Her eyes caught the glow from the lamp, sharp and teasing. "Fair point. But I thought I'd find you soldered to that thing by now." She nodded at the prototype, a small smile playing at her lips."Not yet," I said, glancing back at it. "But there's always tomorrow."

Mira's gaze swept the room, taking in the organized chaos with the ease of someone who'd been here enough times to know the story behind every stray bolt and scrap of paper. She picked up one of my blueprints and raised an eyebrow at the scribbled notes in the margin. "Planning world domination or just trying to make sure you get more than four hours of sleep for once?"

"Why not both?" I shot back, my tone light but aware of the tension coiled in my chest.

She put the blueprint down and leaned against the edge of the workbench, the playful glint in her eyes softening. "Dr. Drassov's llecture starts in ten. Apparently, it's one of his deep ones—you know, 'innovation versus integrity,' or something to that effect."

I let out a sigh, part exasperation, part genuine interest. "The one where he reminds us that wanting to change the world comes with a side of existential dread?"

"Exactly," she said, twirling a small wrench in her fingers. "You're coming, right? Can't have you hiding in here forever."

I took a last look at the prototype, the soft hum of the city outside pressing faintly through the walls. The neon lights of Port Audren cast moving shadows, shifting ribbons of color that painted the floor in restless patterns. I felt the weight of unfinished work and unasked questions, but Mira's expectant smile anchored me. "Yeah," I said, grabbing my bag. "Let's go see what wisdom Drassov ready to drop on us today."

*****************

After my lectures were done and through with for the day,I met up with Valli on my way out of the science faculty,sometimes Lunovienne sounded too whimsical a name to describe a place where the main subject of interest was dismemberment,with a flair ofcourse. Valli was standing with her satchel propped on her dainty hip looking me over as if searching for the remnants of what she called my" Eldritch Face" which I apparently got everytime I fixed a limb to what again she reffered to as a" neuron-type mannequin".

No that's just Bob,I'd answer. "Bob"?

Yeah basically a toaster that can automate simple tasks like make you a sandwich or unload your dishwasher.He wasn't though and it hurt me to say that.

We walked for a while , my quite shuffling almost matching hers.I knew silences like these,Valli playing a mind game ,wanting me to ask for what would be no doubt something that'd leave me reeling for the whole day.

"Your father called," she said eventually, though it wasn't really a question.

"You say that as if he's not also your father"

She ignored me and let the sentence hang there, loose and accusatory.

"Well, Glynis called, to be exact."

Of course, Glynis. I glanced at her then, a thin smile pulling at the corner of my mouth, because who else would it be? Glynis, who could summon obedience from an empty room, whose presence felt like a long shadow falling across the floorboards.

Glynis had been our house governor—a title that sounded both outdated and laughably imperial. To me, she'd always seemed a cross between a war strategist and a Victorian matron, straight-backed and sturdy. Her skin was the color of sand, smooth with an ageless quality that unsettled strangers. She wore her hair in an unforgiving plait that coiled low at the nape of her neck, and her wardrobe consisted exclusively of olive-greys and eggshell ecrus. As though she expected at any moment to say prayer standing next to a porcelain urn holding ashes of the dead.

She loved imparting her "wisdom," which came out clipped, tidy, and brutal. "Pity is a currency for people who cannot negotiate power." Or my personal favorite: "Charm is a borrowed weapon, but wit is sharpened steel." Glynis wasn't unkind, just unrelenting, and in some warped sense of logic, she'd favored Valli over me and our oldest sister ,Thomasina. Valli could wield her beauty like a scalpel, sharp and precise, and Glynis respected anyone who knew how to cut clean.

I blinked at Valli.Her face was soft in the dim afternoon light, though something about her expression betrayed the sharpness underneath."She says you need to go back," Valli said, almost lazily. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, fingers adorned with a mismatched collection of rings—tokens from lovers, probably. "Take the helm. The Iron Wraiths are your birthright, et cetera, et cetera." I exhaled, watching my breath ghosting out in front of me, vanishing before it could find form. I knew what Glynis wanted. The Iron Wraiths are your birthright. Such a beautiful word for what was essentially a noose.

The students near the library entrance caught my eye. A group of them, tangled together in some approximation of laughter. They were performing joy—gestures exaggerated, voices too loud, the kind of thing that, when watched closely, looked almost painful.

"She actually used the word birthright?" I said finally.Valli smirked, her teeth a perfect white. "No. She said 'the time has come to stop wasting yourself.' I'm paraphrasing."

"How generous of you."

Valli didn't bother to answer. She leaned back against the bench, stretching her legs out in front of her like a cat. The library loomed behind her, its heavy stone facade soaking up what little light the day offered.

The Wraiths. That name had lost its edge to me, dulled by years of history I could no longer bear to hold. I turned my head slightly, watching a group of students drift toward the library, their footsteps muffled by the frostbitten ground winter was just starting to thaw. They looked young. Unmarked. Their laughter reached me in fragments, a sound so fragile it felt almost rehearsed.

"She always calls before something happens," I said finally.Valli regarded me for a moment. "She thinks something already has."I didn't respond. Instead, I looked down at the frost threading through the cracks in the pavement—so white it almost looked painted on. "Did you tell her I won't be going?" .

"She said refusal wasn't an option. You know how she is."

"I'm not going back." My voice was steadier than I expected it to be.

Valli raised a brow, her expression somewhere between curiosity and pity. "Why not?"

"Do I need to say it?" I turned to look at her, and her silence told me she knew exactly what I meant. Strange how the memory of him had been frayed by time but never softened. Not once.

"I blame them," I said quietly, the words falling like stones into the air between us. "For him."

Valli didn't speak, and I wondered if she thought it was foolish of me. To carry that anger. To let it consume the space where grief should have lived. "They didn't kill him, Davina" she said eventually, her voice so soft it almost felt like an apology. "No," I agreed. "But they gave him the means to die. What difference does it make? They made him theirs, and they destroyed him."

The words sat heavy in the cold, unyielding air. Glynis would have called it sentimentality—"You're letting the past rot your purpose," she would have said, her voice a scalpel against my ear. But I had no patience left for Glynis's aphorisms, her platitudes disguised as wisdom.

"Do you think they care?" Valli asked."About him?" I laughed quietly, though it sounded brittle even to me. "No. And certainly not about me."Valli tilted her head, her gaze catching mine. "Then why are you letting them win?"

"Win?" I repeated, the word sharp and cold on my tongue. "If refusing to march back into their shadow is losing, then I'll lose every time." She watched me for a long moment, her dark eyes probing mine like she was trying to reach something just out of her grasp. "They'll come for you, you know. One way or another."

"I know."

"Do you?" Valli asked softly, and something in her tone made me pause. "You sound like you want them to. Like you're waiting for it."

I opened my mouth, but no words came. She wasn't wrong. It was easier to wait for them to come to me than to admit I still felt the pull, faint but insistent, tugging me back toward a life I swore I'd buried. The life that took Leocade from me.

Valli turned slightly, her coat shifting against the wind, gray and soft like a smudge of ash. "For what it's worth, I'm not saying you should go back," she said. "But Glynis won't stop. You know that."

"I know," I repeated, quieter this time.

She studied me a moment longer before stepping away, her voice drifting back like the last edge of a shadow. "Be careful, Davina. You're not as invincible as you think you are."

I stayed where I was, hands shoved deep into my coat, watching her figure disappear into the courtyard's sudden haze. A shrill red beep sounded ,Thermal Malfunction in quad four . A collective groan resounded in the mass of moving students.

" This always happens when a Terran is put in charge of the generators."A guy in a red cap commented as he rushed past me.

"Mongrels ,just call them that, it's more fitting for wolves that low on the caste." Replied another one who followed just behind him wearing a red cap as well which I now took as a banner for casual assholery.

It wasn't until they moved past the haze as well that I felt my lips growing numb.

The cold pushed its way into my lungs, filling the hollow spaces I hadn't known were there.

The Iron Wraiths are your birthright. Glynis's voice echoed in my mind, relentless and unshakable. I knew what they wanted—what they thought I owed them. But Leocade was dead, and I couldn't forgive them for what that had cost me.

Somewhere, Glynis would be waiting with her knife-sharp words and steel expectations, certain that inevitability would wear me down in the end. Maybe she was right. But not yet.

For now, I stayed rooted to the spot, the frost at my feet deepening, spreading like cracks in a surface of porcelain