Chapter 225: The Unfinished Promise

The Imperial Intelligence Bureau approved Professor Antoine Chastellain’s request to assist with the Saint Aurelia investigation, although the authorization came with several conditions.

He would be permitted to examine recovered research materials and provide independent assessments of the cult’s activities.

However, access to confidential intelligence would remain restricted, and any findings would have to be submitted through an appointed Imperial liaison.

Antoine accepted without argument.

His first assignment concerned the research records that had disappeared from Saint Aurelia before the Imperial Guard’s assault. Investigators believed the missing documents had been transferred to an unidentified recipient outside the capital, although they had yet to determine who arranged the delivery.

At SkyRune, Ilya learned about the authorization when Antoine gathered several senior researchers to discuss a new initiative.

The professor intended to establish a small group dedicated to identifying dangerous applications of magical technology. Its members would assist the authorities in examining suspicious equipment and developing methods to recognize prohibited modifications before they could be used against civilians.

The proposal received considerable support.

Several researchers had participated in the Saint Aurelia investigation, and the experience had left them deeply concerned about how easily legitimate inventions could be misused.

However, Antoine insisted that the initiative wouldn’t interfere with SkyRune’s ordinary work.

“We’re still a research institution,” he reminded them. “I don’t intend to turn this workshop into an extension of the Imperial Intelligence Bureau. We’ll provide assistance where our expertise is useful, and the investigators can handle their own responsibilities.”

Ilya approved of the arrangement.

The professor had already spent enough time carrying responsibilities that belonged to other people. Establishing clear limits was preferable to volunteering the entire workshop for an investigation that might continue for years.

Unfortunately, Antoine himself seemed less interested in observing those limits.

After the meeting, Ilya discovered that the professor had requested several additional files from the Imperial archives, including reports concerning unusual magical phenomena and historical cases of extreme psychological distress.

Those subjects weren’t directly connected to the missing Saint Aurelia records.

“Professor, are these for the new research group?”

“Some of them.”

“And the others?”

“Personal reading.”

Ilya considered the answer.

Ordinarily, there would be nothing unusual about Antoine requesting obscure academic materials. The professor had built his career around investigating subjects most scholars considered impractical.

However, his recent interests were becoming increasingly concentrated on suffering, unusual transformations, and the limits of human magical development.

“Then remember to eat while you’re reading. The archives aren’t going anywhere.”

Antoine smiled.

“Your concern for my health is becoming rather persistent, Belozersky.”

“Someone has to protect SkyRune from losing its most troublesome professor.”

“Troublesome?”

“I was being generous.”

The professor laughed and returned to his documents.

For a brief moment, their conversation resembled the ordinary exchanges they had shared before Saint Aurelia.

Later that afternoon, Inspector Laurent arrived with another development concerning Edmund Falkenrath.

The Imperial investigators had discovered that the missing financier maintained several identities and had used them to establish relationships with private research foundations throughout the Empire.

More importantly, one of those foundations had received a substantial shipment from an unidentified laboratory shortly before the Saint Aurelia occupation ended.

The delivery records were incomplete, but the investigators believed the shipment contained research materials removed from the school.

“Have you located the foundation?” Antoine asked.

“Yes. Its headquarters were abandoned when our officers arrived. However, we’ve identified several former employees and are questioning them now.”

Laurent explained that the Bureau had also discovered evidence of communication between the foundation and several researchers previously associated with the Cult of the Second Dawn.

The connection suggested that the organization had continued operating through legitimate institutions long after its earlier activities attracted Imperial attention.

However, the investigators couldn’t yet determine how many of those institutions were knowingly involved.

Antoine requested the names of the suspected researchers.

Laurent provided a limited list.

One name immediately attracted the professor’s attention.

Doctor Matthias Reinhold.

The man had once been a respected scholar specializing in unusual magical phenomena, but his academic career ended after several complaints concerning unauthorized human experimentation.

He had disappeared from public life nearly twelve years earlier.

According to the recovered correspondence, Reinhold had maintained contact with Falkenrath’s associates.

Unfortunately, his current location remained unknown.

“Did he participate in the Saint Aurelia operation?” Antoine asked.

“We haven’t found evidence that he was physically present. However, his name appears in correspondence discussing the research objectives.”

The professor requested access to those letters.

Laurent agreed to provide the portions relevant to his authorized work.

Ilya listened carefully.

Reinhold’s involvement was another indication that the cult’s activities extended beyond the individuals who had occupied the school.

The Imperial authorities had already captured Albrecht Voss and most of his assistants, but the people responsible for financing and directing the larger organization remained free.

Fortunately, the Bureau appeared determined to pursue them.

The investigators were expanding their search, identifying financial intermediaries, and coordinating with provincial authorities to prevent suspected members from disappearing.

Laurent eventually concluded his briefing and departed.

Antoine immediately began examining the documents he had provided.

The most significant detail concerned the missing Saint Aurelia records.

Several letters suggested that Reinhold had been interested in the final examination’s results even if the participants failed to undergo the extraordinary changes the cult expected.

Someone outside Saint Aurelia had been prepared to profit from the results regardless of what happened to the children.

Antoine requested that the investigators prioritize locating Reinhold, believing the missing scholar might possess information concerning the cult’s broader activities.

Laurent accepted the suggestion.

By evening, SkyRune’s ordinary research activities had resumed.

Several senior students were preparing a demonstration for an upcoming academic assessment, and Antoine spent some time reviewing their work.

However, he appeared increasingly distracted whenever the discussion turned toward personal projects.

At one point, a student mentioned that his younger sister had helped him prepare a design.

Antoine congratulated him before quietly excusing himself.

Ilya found the professor in his office a short while later.

Lucile’s completed communication device rested beside his desk.

The little invention had been carefully polished, and the crystal at its center remained connected to the receiver they had assembled together.

Antoine had apparently brought it to SkyRune.

“Professor?”

“I was just checking something.”

Ilya noticed an open notebook beside the device.

Several pages contained improvements to Lucile’s original design.

The professor explained that he had been considering whether its communication range could be extended.

“She wanted to use it from school,” he said. “The original version wouldn’t have reached this far.”

Ilya understood the problem.

Lucile had designed the device with her father’s assistance, but the finished invention possessed several limitations that would ordinarily have required further development.

However, extending its range now served little practical purpose.

The person who had intended to use it was dead.

Antoine seemed aware of that.

Nevertheless, he continued examining the design.

“I told her we’d improve it once the first version worked.”

Ilya considered what to say.

He could have reminded the professor that Lucile was gone, but that would have accomplished nothing beyond repeating a fact Antoine already understood.

Instead, he examined the drawings.

“The receiver would need a better connection if you wanted to reach the school.”

“Yes. I was considering that.”

“Then you should probably finish the design before attempting another test.”

Antoine accepted the suggestion.

For several minutes, they discussed the project in ordinary academic terms.

Eventually, the professor closed his notebook.

“I know it won’t change anything, Belozersky. I know Lucile isn’t coming back. I understand that perfectly well.”

The professor examined the little device before continuing.

“But when I’m working on something she wanted to build, I can almost imagine she’s still going to come through that door and tell me I’ve done it wrong.”

Ilya had no answer.

Antoine had spent years sharing his research with his daughter. Their projects had been part of their ordinary lives, and finishing one without her had become a painful reminder of everything they would never accomplish together.

The professor eventually asked Ilya to leave the device on his desk.

He wanted to keep it nearby while working.

Ilya agreed.

However, as he prepared to depart, he noticed another notebook beneath the drawings.

Its pages contained excerpts from historical accounts concerning individuals who had experienced extraordinary magical changes following severe emotional trauma.

Several passages had been marked.

Ilya recognized the general subject, although the examples varied considerably in reliability.

“Professor, you’re still reading those?”

“Yes.”

“Have you found anything useful?”

“Nothing conclusive.”

The answer was reasonable enough.

Nevertheless, Antoine’s interest seemed to extend beyond ordinary academic curiosity.

Ilya considered asking another question, but the professor had already returned to his work.

He decided to leave the matter for another day.

After all, Antoine had recently lost his daughter. Expecting him to behave exactly as he had before the tragedy would be unreasonable.

Still, Ilya intended to keep an eye on him.

Later that evening, Antoine remained at SkyRune after the other researchers departed.

He reviewed several passages describing individuals whose magical abilities had changed under extraordinary psychological strain. Some accounts were unreliable, while others described events that conventional magical theory struggled to explain.

The professor had encountered similar material during his career, but he had rarely considered it worthy of serious attention.

Now, however, the question had become personal.

He had spent his life believing that knowledge could improve the world, that difficult problems could eventually be solved, and that every failure offered an opportunity to learn.

Those beliefs had guided his research.

They had also shaped the way he raised Lucile.

Yet all the knowledge Antoine possessed had failed to save her.

He understood that the Cult of the Second Dawn’s theories were unsupported. Their experiments had produced suffering rather than the extraordinary transformations they promised.

Nevertheless, the historical accounts concerned phenomena that existed independently of the cult’s research.

Some individuals had undergone changes after experiences that should have destroyed them.

Antoine wanted to understand why.

He retrieved another volume, this one containing historical observations of Distortion.

Unlike the speculative theories promoted by the cult, the phenomenon itself was well documented. Under certain circumstances, overwhelming emotional turmoil could cause a wizard’s magic to undergo a violent and deeply personal transformation.

The causes remained poorly understood, and not every person experiencing profound suffering underwent such a change.

Antoine had studied the subject years earlier, although his research had never extended beyond ordinary academic interest.

He read until he reached an account of a scholar who had lost his entire family.

According to the surviving testimony, the man’s magic had begun behaving strangely several days before the incident that eventually led to his Distortion. Objects in his study moved without assistance, familiar spells activated unexpectedly, and his surroundings occasionally changed in ways that reflected his emotional state.

Antoine considered the description.

Then a faint melody sounded from his desk.

It was Lucile’s communication device.

The professor recognized the tune immediately. He and Ilya had tested it several times while completing the invention, and Lucile had personally chosen the melody.

However, the device shouldn’t have been playing.

Its receiver was inactive, and nobody possessed another compatible transmitter.

Antoine approached the desk.

The crystal embedded in the little wooden casing was glowing faintly.

He examined the device, expecting to find that he had accidentally activated one of its functions.

Instead, the melody continued even after he disconnected its power crystal.

Antoine stopped.

The device had no remaining source of magical energy.

Yet the little crystal continued glowing.

Then several loose pages on his desk began lifting into the air.

The professor watched as Lucile’s unfinished drawings slowly arranged themselves around the communication device, each sheet suspended without any visible support.

A familiar magical presence spread through the room.

Antoine recognized it immediately.

It was his own mana.

He attempted to suppress the uncontrolled discharge, but the floating papers remained where they were.

The melody continued playing.

For several seconds, the professor could only listen.

Then he realized something more disturbing.

The magic surrounding the device was responding to him.

When he tried to calm himself, the melody weakened and the pages began settling toward the desk. But the moment he remembered Lucile’s final words, the crystal brightened again.

‘Can we finish it when I get home?’

The question returned to him with unbearable clarity.

Antoine felt the magic within his body stir in response.

The air around the desk became heavy, and the edges of the suspended drawings began darkening as though an invisible flame were slowly consuming them.

He immediately forced himself to suppress his mana.

The papers fell.

The melody stopped.

For several moments, the professor remained standing beside the desk, listening to the silence.

He understood what had happened.

The historical account he had been reading described almost identical symptoms.

Antoine examined the communication device once more.

Then he returned to the open volume and read the final paragraph of the scholar’s recorded symptoms.

The account ended with a warning that spontaneous manifestations of a wizard’s magic, particularly those closely associated with overwhelming emotional distress, could precede the onset of Distortion.

Antoine closed the book.

His own magic had begun responding to his grief without conscious direction.

And for a brief moment, it had made Lucile’s unfinished invention sing.