Continued from: Sight Seeing

The word ready sat well on Anton. Not with the bravado of a soldier marching to battle, nor the naive eagerness of a boy chasing ghosts, but with the gravity of a man who had been waiting—perhaps unknowingly—for a door to be opened.

Theron inclined his head, the faintest smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Then let us pass from shadow into knowing.”

He turned, his cloak catching the light of the Chamber of Echoes as he stepped away from the circular nexus. Behind them, the chamber returned to its quiet heartbeat—the murmuring walls swallowing silence as reverently as they had once devoured sound. The others would linger or depart as they were called, but Theron’s stride was already aligned with a deeper current, and he knew Anton would follow.

They moved through the Sanctuary’s inner halls, architecture designed to humble. Vaulted arches bowed like monks in prayer. Glass lanterns suspended from the ceiling flickered with pale violet flame—ethereal, smokeless. The floor beneath them bore the sigils of the Ascendancy in delicate embossing, visible only when the light passed over it just so. Theron walked them not with haste, but with ceremonial pace, as if the very act of traversing this distance was a rite of passage.

At last, they arrived at the threshold of the Sanctum of Reflection. The air here was different. Quieter. Heavy, not with oppression, but with the weight of knowledge. The room opened like a cathedral turned inward. Shelves climbed the walls in spirals, packed tight with scrolls, books, and illuminated manuscripts that whispered in languages long buried. The scent of parchment and wax was as sacred here as incense.

In the center of the space, pools of light spilled from reading lamps perched like watchful sentinels above clusters of carved desks. Cushioned alcoves built into the walls offered solitude to those who preferred to study in silence, while the centerpiece—a great circular window of stained glass—cast shifting patterns of aquamarine, vermilion, and gold upon the marble floor. It was the Ascendancy, rendered in glass: arms outstretched, cloaked in threads of light, stepping between worlds.

Theron stopped just within the chamber, allowing the moment to breathe. “This is where the mind prepares for what the soul already knows,” he said softly, his voice echoing in the hushed reverence of the space.

“The Sanctum of Reflection is not only a library. One does not come here simply to learn, but to remember. The Veil keeps many truths hidden—but sometimes, the right words, spoken at the right time, can part it like silk.”

His gaze moved across the room to a figure seated beneath the stained glass—half-shrouded in shadow, half-painted in gold. A man surrounded by open books and drifting dust motes, moving as though time moved differently around him. Perhaps it did.

“Lucien Octavius,” Theron intoned, “is our librarian, keeper of the Celestial Codex, and chronicler of those whose questions deserve better answers. Such as yours,” he paused to lay a reassuring hand on Anton's shoulder before guiding them within.

He stepped aside now, as if Anton’s approach was the next act in a quiet ritual. “Lucien has an unusual memory for the arcane and the mythic. He may know of others like you, or of those long forgotten. I suspect he will be… intrigued.”

With that, Theron allowed the moment to settle into silence again—one hand resting loosely behind his back, the other at his side, patient as ever. He was watching now—not just Anton, but the Veil itself. It had brought the man this far.

The Carnival had a rhythm, a pulse that thrummed beneath the gaudy lights and peeling paint. It was a living, breathing beast, and Sámiel was its dark heart. His horror show was the stuff of whispered legends, a macabre dance that left audiences both terrified and enthralled. But tonight, as he returned after a three-day absence, the beast felt... off.

His boots crunched against the gravel, the familiar path leading him to the cluster of trailers that housed the Pekelniak family. These weren't the sleek, polished RVs of the well-to-do, but battered, weather-worn boxes on wheels, their exteriors adorned with trinkets and talismans meant to ward off whatever spirits might be lurking. The scent of fried onions and stale beer hung in the air, a testament to meals shared and stories told.

Sámiel stood out here, a peacock among crows. His attire was a deliberate affront to convention: a pleather jacket in a shade of crimson that bordered on obscene, a ruffled shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at scandal, and trousers so tight they seemed painted on. From a choker on his throat dangled a silver knife charm. His dark hair was a wild mane, streaked with unwashed greasy strands that caught the dim light, and his eyes— those eyes—were kohl-rimmed windows to a soul that reveled in the delicious discomfort of others.

He approached the largest of the trailers, its door slightly ajar, revealing the warm glow within. Stepping inside, he was met with a tableau of familial chaos.

"Look what the cat dragged in," sneered Tereza, his older sister, from her perch by the tiny stove. Her arms were crossed, flour dusting her hands from the dough she’d been kneading. Her face, lined beyond her years, bore the perpetual scowl of someone who'd long given up on pleasantries.

"Missed me, did you?” Sámiel drawled, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Hardly," she shot back. "But your audience did. Three nights without your little freak show. People talk."

"Let them," he replied, unperturbed. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

From the corner, a soft chuckle emerged. Josef, their father, lounged in a threadbare armchair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes, milky with age and too much homemade liquor, regarded Sámiel with a mix of amusement and something darker.

"You always did have a flair for the dramatic," Josef rasped. "But even the best performers know not to keep the crowd waiting too long."

Sámiel inclined his head, acknowledging the rebuke. "Noted, dear father.”

A sudden movement drew his attention to the small figure darting toward him. Aneta, his niece, no more than six, with wild curls and eyes too big for her face, latched onto his leg.

"Uncle Sámiel! Did you bring me something spooky?" she demanded, her grin missing a front tooth.

He laughed, a genuine sound that seemed almost out of place. "Always, little one." From his jacket pocket, he produced a small, intricately carved wooden spider. "This is Aragog. He'll keep the nightmares at bay.”

Aneta took the token with reverence, her eyes wide. "Thank you!"

Tereza huffed, wiping her hands on her apron. "As if she needs more reasons to be scared."

Sámiel's grin widened. "Fear is a gift, dear sister. It reminds us we're alive. Relish it, while you can.”

The door creaked open again, admitting Marek, his younger brother. Sweat slicked his brow, evidence of a long day's labor setting up tents and repairing rigging.

“I saw you walking in,” Marek said, not unkindly. "Vas family’s in a tizzy. Roza and Esper took off."

Sámiel's interest piqued. The Vas sisters were... intriguing. "Ran away, did they?”

Marek nodded. "Few nights ago. No word since. Their folks are tight-lipped, but you can see the worry."

"And the others?”

"Some say good riddance. Less competition. Others are concerned. We look after our own, mostly."

Sámiel licked his top lip with a swipe of a pierced tongue, a habit when he was deep in thought, and clicked the barbell against his teeth. The Carnival was a web of alliances and rivalries, a delicate balance of camaraderie and competition. The disappearance of the Vas sisters tipped that balance.

"Perhaps I'll take a stroll,” he mused aloud. "See what the night has to offer.”

Josef's gaze sharpened. "Don't go stirring the pot, boy."

Sámiel met his father's eyes, a devilish glint in his own. "Who, me? I dream of nothing less.”

Starting this thread for a Spoiler-discussion of Season 3 of the show. So don't read any further unless you want spoilers. 








Ye be warned.

[[OoC: I’m having a pretty rough day and writing Elyse and Anna is very therapeutic for me. Anyone can jump in if you’d be there - no worries if not - just be kind - therapy writing here :-) ]]

Elyse was getting dressed for her set on stage. She was back to work now and had missed quite a bit. People at Kallisti had been very supportive during her tough times. Family - they said. It reinforced everything Sage, Hayden, and Anna had told her about family. They had accepted her here. For no other reason than she was a fellow employee. That felt nice. It was what she needed now. She had only started taking her medications recently but they were already working. That made her smile at least - until the inevitable mood swing hit. Her therapist had warned her that mood swings, decreased libido, and the thoughts of suicide were possible side effects. The first two would go away as she got used to the meds. She was told to contact a doctor immediately if the last came into existence. Mood swings and decreased libido were present, and, thankfully, she wasn’t experiencing the last one. 

Anna was there being the stalwart friend she was. ”You doing okay? Ready?”

Elyse nodded, checking her wallet and seeing that Marta was going to stay with her tonight. That helped too. She also said she had something important and good to talk about. Elyse responded by telling her she looked forward to hearing it. ”Yeah - I’m okay. Very nervous though. Not sure I can do this.”

Elyse’s head was moved as Anna took her face in her hands, bringing Elyse’s eyes to meet hers. ”You got this, Elyse. Want me to come out with you?”

Elyse blinked. ”Our dance isn’t ready yet…”

”Not our dance,” Anna interrupted. ”Your dance - with me backing you up. Same thing you did during rehearsal - but you have me there with you.”

Elyse just looked at Anna for awhile. She wasn’t sure what Anna had planned, and usually a change like this would get her nerves going, but this time she felt strangely calm and intrigued. ”Go on…” Elyse prompted, curious at what Anna was thinking.

Rachel went home after having lunch with Emily. There she dove once more into her research. An outline was beginning to form for her thesis and she was making great strides.  Doing the research helped even though the tremor in her hands remained. Lucio hadn’t responded right away and that made Rachel nervous, but she tried to remember that Lucio had a life outside of her too. He wasn’t always at her beck and call.

About an hour later, she finally got a response from him. She smiled, knowing she would see him soon. She a little more to finish though before she stopped working today. I have about a half hour more of work to do, the. I can head over there :-)

Rachel knew he wouldn’t mind the wait. He actively encouraged her studies. Rachel hadn’t taken to wearing skirts and dresses more often lately, and so was already dressed nicer. After making sure all her work was saved, she headed to meet Lucio at his hotel, letting him know she was on her way.

Marta told the driver where to go, and she didn’t look as they drove. Her attention all on the baby. She did think though. She had heard the bark of Ricky’s gun. She briefly looked at Marisol who seemed calm. 

They arrived at the building and Marta entered. Still carrying Lily. Immediately she spoke aloud. ”Sky - please alert Liv that Nox may be incoming soon. And he may be hurt. Also tell her I have Lily and I’m in the building.” It was an instinct. Marta knew what Liv could do and She’d rather Liv be prepared than not.

Sasha stormed out of the basement and up the stairs. He was peeved that the bastard wouldn't teach him -- said he couldn't. He didn't beleive him.  The fury and fire with in boiled and brewed inside.  Though it didn't threaten to overtake him. It could, he knew it. But he was in control, and he wasn't even holding the life blood even though he squeezed the shard tightly in his hand. It cut deep but it wasn't a bad thing or a bad feeling. Sasha relished in that pain.

It was freezing outside, but Sasha felt none of it as he stormed passed people. After leaving the Red Light district people looked at him strangely. He was a bull in a china shop blowing through people. They cursed in various langauges but Sasha didn't care. He didn't understand any of it!

It had become something of a tradition for Enrique and Marta to spend the day doing fun things on the days of her psychology appointments.  They would go get lunch or some sort of treat or maybe go shopping at the GUM.  Enrique always let Marta decide, but it was getting to be where she would want to spend that time with friends soon - especially since she was making friends.

Marta had changed quickly in the last week.  Online school had been a good choice for her and going to Kallisti had been helpful as well.  That still surprised Enrique, but Marta was growing.  The other kids there had accepted her without question.  Then she had gone to a group session with them and Elyse's friend Hayden and her confidence had soared.  She still struggled.  The previous day she had a minor episode, but given that it was minor and her issues were becoming less frequent, she was healing a bit more.

Marta had wanted to go to the coffee shop she had seen Elyse and her friends in the other day, and of all things, she wanted coffee.  That was new too.  Elyse had informed him that Marta was showing interest in boys now too.  She just was growing up, and that would make things more difficult, but still, she viewed Enrique like a big brother. Marta ordered a cappuccino and sat down, Enrique sitting across from her.

"How is school going?" he asked her.  

"Fine - working hard and learning a lot.  Sterling helps when I don't understand things. It's easier with the smaller group and being with friends," she said honestly.  "Did you have fun the nights I was with Elyse."

Enrique smiled.  They had been enjoyable evenings. "I did - made a new friend myself." He and Marisol had a dinner date one night, but neither one felt ready for anything besides friendship and Enrique was content with that.

"Oh," Marta said with a mischievous smile. "Is it a girlfriend?"

"No it's not like that at all..."

"Ricky's got a girlfriend...Ricky's got a girlfriend..." she said in a teasing singsong voice. "I'm kidding! Glad you had fun!"

It was things like that that reinforced that Marta was changing.  She never would have teased him like that before.  Enrique was getting the idea that he was beginning to see what Marta would have been before her trauma.  Now that it was being dealt with, it was starting to come out.

Rachel sat in the university library - psychology textbooks surrounding her. Rachel had taken a few days off her work on her thesis. The first had led to a break up with Cruz. The second had led to Lucio, and the third had been a night full of amazing sex. She had slept most of the next day. Truthfully she hadn’t felt good at all - almost sick - but in a way she didn’t understand. She wasn’t sick. She had just felt weird. 

Lucio was always in her mind, and it made studying extremely difficult. She reread paragraphs because they didn’t stick in her mind. All the notecards in front of her were blank. She was getting nowhere. All she wanted to do was be with Lucio. All she could think about was Lucio. She needed to work on her thesis, but she needed him too. 

Rachel leaned over in the table, banging her head quietly on it before pulling a large book in front of her and attempting to read. She tried again, but soon had her wallet in her hands, and she fought with whether to text Lucio or not. She really needed to work on her thesis. She really shouldn’t text him. But she needed him.