The monochrome library hung in eternal stillness, bck and white bleeding into each other like ink dropped in water. Lady Keter sat upon her seat of honor, examining a slim volume with detached curiosity.

  The cover bore a name in stark letters 'An Smithee'.

  "The Maker.", she murmured, her voice cutting through the silence, "Such a theatrical little creature."

  Her fingers traced the spine, and pages flickered without opening, images bleeding through showing a man with a bck hole for a face, a director's chair, stages built from human suffering.

  "An Smithee. The pseudonym for failed directors, for those who wish to disown their work.", her smile curved sharply and cold, "And a god who built himself from corruption and degradation... and yet, at his core, he remains nothing but a failed artist desperate for recognition."

  She let the book float before her, spinning zily.

  "He thinks himself a creator. But what does he create, really? He takes the works of others and twists them into grotesque performances, granting his fraudulent approval in the form of boons.", she waved her hand dismissively, "A parasite wearing the crown of a god."

  The book snapped shut with a sound like breaking bones.

  "The circus in Ein was merely one of his productions. And my dear little Avenger walked right in, witnessed his follower summoning another broken god.", Lady Keter's eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement, "He must have been so pleased with the performance. Such drama. Such spectacle."

  She tossed the book carelessly over her shoulder. It vanished before hitting the ground.

  Then her attention shifted, and she reached out, plucking another book from the void, this one with colorful, almost garish lettering... 'IT'

  "Ah, speaking of theatrical performances...", her smile deepened, "The Wondertainment Troupe. Such devoted little followers. They style themselves as entertainers, but underneath all that pageantry..."

  "They're preparing something for Bathory's Academic Showcase.", Lady Keter's luminous gaze swept across the pages, "A gathering of minds, everything The Maker despises and seeks to corrupt. Of course, his followers would see it as the perfect stage for chaos."

  The air shifted; that familiar presence, formless and wrong, began to coalesce at the edges.

  "Ah, you've been listening, haven't you, Mashhith?"

  The presence that was "Miss Mashhith" didn't speak. But the air grew heavier, as if chalk dust was settling into lungs that didn't exist.

  The faint scrape of something against nothing echoed through the library, a question unasked but understood.

  Lady Keter's smile sharpened.

  "Will I warn them? Why would I?", she closed the book with deliberate slowness, "The Wondertainment Troupe will bring their chaos to the Showcase. And my Argonauts will either survive or they won't. Either outcome provides valuable data."

  The feeling intensified, symbols appearing in the air—geometric patterns that might have been disapproval.

  Lady Keter waved her hand dismissively, and the symbols dissolved.

  "The Wondertainment Troupe will perform. Bathory will showcase her invention. And somewhere in between, chaos will unfold exactly as the Maker intends."

  She picked up another book, 'Count of Monte Cristo', "Though I wonder... will Dantes be there, fulfilling her duties? Still at her Third Step, not weak but not strong as well? Now that would make things interesting."

  The presence of "Miss Mashhith" lingered a moment longer before gradually fading like a diagram half-erased.

  Lady Keter watched it go with that same distant amusement.

  "The Academic Showcase.", she murmured, "Where innovation meets corruption. Where my Argonauts will dance on strings they still believe they're cutting."

  The library settled back into its eternal stillness.

  And Lady Keter smiled, already reaching for the next book, the next story, the next piece of knowledge to catalog and ultimately care nothing about.

  "Let the show begin."

  =0=0=

  The Royal Academy grounds buzzed with energy, schors in formal robes mingling with curious citizens, vendors hawking refreshments, and colorful banners announcing various presentations. The Academic Showcase had transformed the normally austere institution into something almost festive.

  Lea stood three steps behind Dawn, her posture perfect, hands csped behind her back. The Rorschach patterns on her mask remained neutral, giving nothing away. To any observer, she was simply another Shadow Guard—silent, watchful, unremarkable.

  Dawn adjusted the dispy board beside her invention—the telephone, as she'd named it. Two devices connected by a copper wire, capable of transmitting voice across distances.

  Simple in concept, revolutionary in execution. Several nobles and schors had already gathered around the demonstration table, waiting for the presentation to begin.

  "You know.", Dawn said without turning around, her voice pitched low enough that only Lea could hear, "You don't have to hover behind me the entire time. There's enough security crawling around this pce to stop a small army."

  Lea didn't respond immediately, scanning the crowd with practiced efficiency.

  Her emotion radar swept outward in gentle waves of excitement, curiosity, academic pride, the usual mixture at such events.

  "I'm your Shadow Guard, Your Highness.", Lea finally replied, keeping her voice neutral, "It's my duty to—"

  "Stop it with the 'Your Highness' nonsense when we're alone.", Dawn gnced back with an exasperated smile, "Go explore. Enjoy the festival. Maybe learn something new. Who knows, you might need to boost that brain power of yours a bit."

  Lea's mask couldn't hide the slight tilt of confusion in her posture.

  Dawn's smile turned teasing. "After all, you're one of the chosen ones too, aren't you? The Chalk Princess's Divine Throne marked you just like it marked me when I was young. If you're going to potentially become the next Goddess of Technology, or at least compete for the position, you should probably familiarize yourself with current innovations, don't you think?"

  The words hit harder than Dawn probably intended. Lea hadn't allowed herself to think too deeply about what the Chalk Princess's appearance in her dream meant. She'd been focused on her Fourth Step and Silence, on the immediate path forward.

  The possibility of ciming a Divine Throne felt too distant, too overwhelming.

  "I... I don't think—"

  "That's the problem. You don't think about it.", Dawn waved her hand dismissively.

  "Look, I'm not saying you have to decide anything right now. But the Divine Throne chose to appear to you for a reason. Maybe it's worth considering why. And maybe...", she added with a grin, "Attending an Academic Showcase focused on innovation and progress might give you some ideas, whatever Lady Keter told you."

  Lea stood there for a moment, processing. Around them, the crowd continued to grow as the scheduled presentation time approached.

  "Go on.", Dawn insisted, shooing her away with one hand, "I've got nobles and schors to impress. You've got a festival to explore. We'll both be fine for a few hours."

  Reluctantly, Lea nodded, "If anything feels wrong—"

  "I'll have a dozen guards beside you to tackle whatever it is before you can even turn around.", Dawn's expression softened slightly, "I know you're worried after... everything. But this is the Royal Academy, Lea. One of the most secure pces in Renar. I'll be fine."

  With a final bow, Lea stepped back into the crowd, letting herself be absorbed by the flow of people moving between exhibits.

  ...

  The Academic Showcase sprawled across the entire Academy grounds. Every department had set up dispys—alchemy demonstrations that created swirling colored fmes, mechanical contraptions that performed complex calcutions, botanical exhibits showcasing hybrid pnts, and historical analyses of ancient texts.

  Lea wandered between them, her mask drawing a few curious gnces but nothing more.

  Shadow Guards were common enough in noble circles that most people simply gave her respectful distance.

  She paused at an engineering exhibit demonstrating a new type of gear system, then moved on to a chemistry dispy showing different methods of purifying water.

  It was all fascinating in an abstract way, but her thoughts kept drifting. To her Fourth Step. To Sincir's appearance. To the Path of Divinity and what it would mean to—

  Her emotion radar pinged.

  Lea's attention snapped to the edge of the Academy grounds, near the outer walls. There was something... off.

  Not hostile exactly, but wrong. Discordant notes in the symphony of academic excitement surrounding her.

  She altered her path, moving casually through the crowd toward the source. As she drew closer, she could see them... a small group dressed in colorful, almost garish clothing.

  Street performers, by the look of it, are doing tricks for a gathered crowd of students and citizens.

  One juggled what appeared to be gss orbs filled with colored smoke. Another twisted balloons into eborate animal shapes with unnatural speed. A third performed card tricks, making entire decks vanish and reappear with flourishes that seemed just slightly too smooth, too perfect.

  On the surface, nothing suspicious. Just entertainers taking advantage of the festival atmosphere.

  But Lea's emotion radar told a different story.

  She focused, letting the radar sweep across the performers. What came back made her blood run cold.

  Malice.

  Anticipation.

  A twisted kind of glee that had nothing to do with entertaining children.

  And underneath it all, something darker... corruption, degradation, the specific emotional signature that came from those who had willingly embraced evil.

  Her Malediction resonated with recognition. These weren't just random performers.

  These were her people, not Pathstriders of Malediction necessarily, but those who walked simir roads. Those who dealt in harm, in suffering, in the subtle corruption of innocence.

  The juggler met her gaze for just a moment, and his smile widened.

  Not threatening, not overtly, but knowing.

  As if he recognized what she was just as surely as she'd recognized them... a sickening sense of kindred flows between them.

  Lea's hand instinctively moved toward where Hastur would normally rest, but she'd left her parasol-sword behind, as Dawn had insisted it made her look "too intimidating" for a public festival.

  The balloon twister ughed at something a child said, but the sound carried wrong notes.

  The card trick performer made a deck vanish with a flourish, and for just a moment, Lea could have sworn she saw something underneath the cards—symbols she recognized from her studies.

  Corruption sigils, Degradation marks.

  The Wondertainment Troupe... it has to be them.

  The realization hit her like ice water. These were followers of The Maker, here at the Academic Showcase, performing for crowds of unsuspecting people.

  Lea backed away slowly, careful not to draw attention. Her mind raced. She needed to warn someone—Dawn, the security, anyone.

  But what could she say? That street performers feel wrong? That her Malediction Path sensed kinship with their evil?

  The juggler tossed his gss orbs higher, and the colored smoke inside swirled into patterns that made Lea's vision blur if she looked at them too directly.

  The balloon animals suddenly seemed less whimsical and more grotesque, their shapes just slightly off, their colors too vibrant.

  And through it all, the performers smiled and ughed and entertained, while corruption seeped into the crowd like poison into water.

  Lea turned and hurried back toward Dawn's exhibit, her heart pounding beneath her mask.

  Now, the chaos was beginning.