The wall resists, at first. Construction designed to seal a passage, especially underground, is not known for yielding easily. However, Cassidy is not alone in this. An angel, even a fallen one, has power over the fundaments of Creation. There is no visual indication of change, but through his Manifestation Cass can feel the brick, mortar, and concrete grow delicate and brittle. Cracks and splinters form in spiderweb patterns upon the surface until the force overcomes resistance and the wall shatters like so much glass.
The dust settles, bringing silence with it. The passage beyond is dark and still, but not sinister. No, the weight of years here is quiet and contemplative. An idea was realized here, one sadly ahead of its time. You fetch headlamps from the work crew supplies and proceed.
Traversing the passage does not take long, even though you must step carefully over the rubble of your excavations. As the end of the passage comes into view - you can see it opening into a larger chamber - Johann comes to a halt.
"This is it... this is what I felt." He reaches out to the wall of the tunnel but does not touch it; the reason is apparent. A runic inscription, invisible moments before, glows to life, encircling the entire passage.
"Oh, yeah, this is old." Johann seems impressed more than anything.
"I haven't seen this since Babylon. Someone did their homework. By the will of Anu are those borne of Abzu barred from this place, or the wrath of Marduk shall fall upon them." He traces a finger just beneath a passage written in cuneiform as he offers this translation.
"Something like that... my Sumerian's rusty. Doesn't matter. I cannot pass." Just standing in the presence of this ward is dangerous; his exposed skin is slowly beginning to burn.
"I'll head back, make sure no one follows you." As he retreats, the runes again fade to nothingness. Nothing for it but to continue on.
The passage opens into the station proper. Largely undisturbed by time, it is easy to imagine the beauty and luxury which was once found here. Fading frescoes once lit by now-exhausted zirconia lamps adorn the walls, plush easy chairs still rest between statues in the classical style, and the gold plating of what was once a fish pond still shines as the centerpiece of the room. It is so still here, you don't even seem to stir up dust as you walk. You catch movement in the corner of your eye; a person, carrying a lantern like yourselves? As soon as you look, though, it vanishes.
Jude has a hunch, though. What she saw before, the echo of life, it reminded her of descriptions of ghosts, and
everyone knows they vanish under bright light. You shut off your lamps, and at first it seems a waste of time... but then the apparitions appear. Just one or two at a time in the beginning, but it is not long before you are surrounded by translucent figures, glowing softly white in the gloom, of men and women in Victorian dress - simple imprints of people long dead, replaying their moments here; like a hundred silent films projected on the same screen, they pass through you and each other with only the slightest distortion.
You watch for a time, and one image stands out; a man whose face you cannot see, obscured by some strange static. You know of this effect -Occultation. The man's visage stalks through the phantom crowd, disappearing through a door on the far side. Cinnamon knows before you even approach it - that's where the Stationmaster's Office should be.
You can hear the lock click open as you approach. The door opens at your touch. Within is no office, but a laboratory of such marvelous design as you've never seen. There are few familiar objects of chemistry and engineering here; most defy explanation by modern science. To Jude and Arden some of this is half-remembered; the arcanotech of the Daedalan cabals and Solificati alchemy, long since lost to modern mages.
LaboratoryAlchemyEngineering
Study
An image plays here too, not at all like the ethereal figures outside. This one is sharper and in full color, though still partially transparent, and shows not just a person but also the objects she interacted with as the were back when the events happened. It was not playing when you entered, nor did it begin immediately. I feels as if it
waited for you to take in your surroundings and adapt before it began to play.
A woman, blonde with green eyes, dressed in blue finery appropriate to the upper class, stands before a grand clock face as tall as a man. She stares off into the distance, apparently unresponsive, when a vaguely humanoid wisp of vapor rushes down from the ceiling and into her - an Astral Projection! She snaps back to awareness, immediately checking her silver pocket watch. She fights panic; something has gone terribly wrong. The clock strikes one. She rushes from station to station, manipulating strange machinery, performing obscure works of alchemy, testing volatile chemistries. The clock reads one past one. You can see a moment of epiphany; she drops a the flasks in her hands, unconcerned by the waste, and runs to a project previously ignored - pieces and parts nearly assembled. It takes her but a moment to complete it, and you realize you've seen it before - the puzzle box of Malcolm Gilvary, the box that wasn't supposed to be. The clock strikes one. She inspects it carefully; once satisfied, she sets the box aside. She doesn't see it vanish when she turns her back. The clock reads one past one. She turns to a towering device, crackling with electricity, and begins to make adjustments.
The clock strikes one.
She stops. Whatever that machine does, it's not important now. Slowly she looks up at the great clock face, but her expression betrays no apprehension - only dismay. She knows what she'll see. The clock turns to one past one. She waits and checks her pocketwatch. Exactly a minute passes, and the great clock face winds back again; the clock strikes one. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, her eyes are the eyes of a very clever person thinking
very fast. She slowly looks around the room until her eyes fall on you. Even though what happened here happened a century ago, you can't shake the feeling that she knows you are standing just there. Something changes in the air; it begins to fill with energy. Your hair stands on end, and you can hear a great wind howling in your ears. The woman holds out her silver pocketwatch. You can see the face; it has no numbers, just arcane sigils around the rim, and too many hands - nine, in fact. They begin to spin faster and faster, and the woman's eyes glow bronze. The wind rises to a deafening crescendo... and something
breaks. The pocket watch explodes into its component pieces, they and the woman vanish, and where she once stood you can see a distortion in the air - no, no not the air; the very skin of reality.
The image skips; a jump cut. The man you saw outside now rushes in - this time you can see his face, the familiar face from the rooftop. You can hear his voice, a tinny playback, as he calls Helena's name. An illusion crafted with Prime magic is triggered, a recorded message for Tycho on the glass of the great clock face. Despite Helena's power, the message is
not unscathed by the ravages of Paradox; it skips and loops and occasionally dissolves into static.
"Tycho, there's - out of ti-ti-time - Can't get out, so I've got to go around. *static* know the functions, so you can try, but - never had an issue issue issue beyond us it's beyond us this time *static* have to unravel eventually. I can wait, I'll be - don't do anything rash. Without the key - only make things wo-wo-worse. I've set things to help in motion to help... just don't force it. I know you hate it, but Fate is clear. You can't fight Paradox - have to finesse it. I'll work from this side, and work from this side, and push back through when the time is right." The last line is in a language you don't know... but you can guess from her face it is a message of love. Tycho's knees threaten to give out, but he forces himself on. The image speeds up, a time-lapse, as Tycho cannibalizes and repurposes the machinery of the laboratory. He builds a frame around the stitch in reality, channeling all manner of esoteric magic and science into the man-sized device. Countless wires, pipes, and tubes run from all over the laboratory into the base, and after many shorts, leaks, and fire-starting sparks, he finally has it right. The scene slows to normal time. He flips the switch - the contacts flare to life, and a storm of energy lashes out from the frame to the distortion in space. The slender anomaly widens into a tear of eye-hurting unreal colors, wide enough to accommodate a human hand... and stops. The device fails and will go no further, no matter what Tycho tries.
He just rages for awhile. Discarded components are smashed, the walls are burned by gouts of arcane fire; you don't suppose you can blame him. It's impossible to know how long he worked at this, but it was neither quick nor easy, and to see it fail... Eventually, he steps up to the great clock face, slamming his fist upon the glass which bears the image of his wife.
When he speaks it is in that language you do not understand, but there is not a doubt in anyone's mind it is a declaration: he will
never stop until she is back.
The playback is over, the scene fades. The tear in reality glows and crackles, almost benignly. A lock in reality...
...but you have the key.
