Workers moved quickly, their tools clanging as they patched the damage under the watchful eyes of armed soldiers.
The air shifted the moment the old man arrived, like the very atmosphere bent to accommodate his presence. Ezra couldn't quite explain why, but his instincts told him this was someone important—dangerous, even. The soldiers straightened as he passed, and no one dared to meet his gaze directly.
The man's cane clicked sharply against the pavement with each step. Up close, Ezra noticed the serpent's eyes on the cane were tiny gemstones, glinting faintly in the light. His white hair was immaculately styled beneath the top hat, and the emblem pinned to it shimmered—a bluish-pink crest Ezra didn't recognize .
His attire was flawless, not a single crease marring the tailored coat that fit him like a second skin. A silk cravat—rich in color, tied with practiced precision—rested neatly against his collar.
The man finally stopped before Eli, his gaze cool and assessing. Though his face was weathered with age, his pale blue eyes were sharp, like a man who missed nothing.
"Hendrix," the old man greeted, his voice smooth, unshaken, as if none of the chaos around them mattered.
"Lord Eisenberg," Eli replied with a nod, his earlier relaxed demeanor straightening into something more formal.
The old man's gaze drifted to Ezra, his sharp eyes lingering just a bit too long, as if peeling back the layers of his very soul. There was no warmth in his stare—only cold calculation.
"And this is?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of someone used to being obeyed.
Eli shrugged, casual as always. "A student. Pay him no mind."
He smiled , it was unsettling—too wide, too practiced, like someone who'd long since perfected the art of pretending. His sharp suit was impeccable, his silver hair neatly combed back, and his eyes… his eyes felt wrong.
Lord Eisenberg let out a soft hum, his gaze still fixed on Ezra. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in something resembling mild amusement. "Everything is of note, Eli. Especially these days."
Ezra shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, feeling like a specimen under a magnifying glass.
Eli clapped a hand on Ezra's shoulder and steered him forward. "Don't let him get in your head," he muttered quietly. "He does that to everyone."
But as they walked away, the old man's voice carried after them, laced with mock sweetness that somehow only made it worse.
"Relax," Lord Eisenberg called, his chuckle low and hollow. "I don't bite."
The sound echoed faintly behind them, and despite the attempt at humor, it left a cold pit in Ezra's stomach. There was nothing casual about that man.
Nothing at all.
Ezra leaned in closer to Eli. "What's with him?" he asked, voice low, something about the old man sending a chill down his spine.
Eli's jaw tightened, his mood clearly shifting.
"When you're wealthy—when you have everything you could ever want—it's easy to look down on everyone else," Eli said bitterly. "But with him, it's worse. Look closely at him, Ezra. What do you see?"
They came to a slow stop as Lord Eisenberg's gaze locked onto them, his lips curling into that same eerie smile. He raised a hand and gave them a small, casual wave. Ezra frowned, staring, watching for anything out of the ordinary… but nothing. The man looked normal. Too normal.
"I don't see anything," Ezra admitted, confused. "Eli, I—there's nothing."
Eli shook his head slightly. "Close your eyes," he instructed calmly. "Focus. Reach for your resonance. When you're ready, open them."
Ezra hesitated but did as he was told, drawing in a steady breath. He closed his eyes, pulling on the quiet hum of his flames within. He felt the energy swell and collect, traveling upward, pooling behind his eyes as warmth radiated through his temples.
Then he opened them.
And what he saw nearly made him stumble back.
Threads. Hundreds of them. No—thousands.
They slithered like living veins from Lord Eisenberg's fingertips, thin as spider silk, glowing faintly, pulsing with some invisible rhythm. They stretched out and latched onto the skulls of the workers and soldiers nearby.
Every man and woman moved like clockwork—perfectly timed, perfectly obedient, like puppets dancing at the end of invisible strings.
Ezra's breath hitched. He blinked rapidly, and when he did, the threads were gone, vanishing as if they'd never been there.
He turned to Eli, voice barely above a whisper. "Threads… hundreds of them. Is he… controlling them?"
Eli met his gaze, his expression grim as he gave a slow, almost reluctant nod. "Yeah. That's Lord Eisenberg for you."
Ezra shuddered. The unsettling smile of the old man lingered in his mind, and for the first time, he understood exactly why Eli's mood had shifted.
The moonlight cast a faint silver glow over the scene, the air crisp and filled with the faint hum of machinery working through the night. Soldiers moved with urgency, whilst the workers repaired the wall while the distant rumble of generators echoed through the camp. Ezra stayed close to Eli, taking in the chaos, unsure why exactly they were here.
Out of the commotion, a woman in her early forties strode toward them. Her wild, unkempt hair stuck out in all directions , and oversized goggles rested on her forehead. Her lab coat was streaked with grease and dust, giving her the look of someone who hadn't slept in days.
Without hesitation, she threw her arms around Eli. "Oh, my boy! You've grown so well," she exclaimed, gripping his arms tightly as if to inspect him, her voice full of affection.
Eli returned the gesture with the most minimal effort possible, giving her a brief pat on the back. "We saw each other last week," he muttered, already exasperated.
She ignored his dry tone, stepping back to look him over with a grin. "And you still haven't gotten any taller," she teased, adjusting her goggles as she glanced at Ezra. "And who's this? Don't tell me you brought a friend. That's new."
Ezra blinked, unsure whether to introduce himself or just stand there awkwardly.
Eli shrugged. "Don't mind him. Just dragged him along."
"Dragged me along? I'm literally right here," Ezra muttered under his breath.
The woman chuckled. "Well, welcome anyway. I'm Dr. Amara. Try not to get yourself killed while you're here. Things have been… unpredictable lately."