Skyfall

## Part I

There was a large explosion in the laboratory wing on the second floor, and for the first time since she got there, Ciaran wasn’t the one responsible for it. Alarms blared all throughout the academy, and judging by the smell emanating from down the hall, it *wasn’t* a drill. That wasn’t going to stop her from making the most out of the situation, as she immediately makes a run towards the head researcher’s office. She was looking for something, you see. Something *very* confidential, and she could get in a lot of trouble for even thinking about what’s tucked away in its contents… not that that’s stopped her before. The consequences be damned, she simply had to know the truth and she knew that she’d have to fight tooth and nail to get it.

Despite her rather awkward and offbeat remarks, she wasn’t exactly cynical; a least, compared to her teenage self… but if there’s one thing she’s always been good at, it’s calling out bullshit. It’s only natural: game recognizes game. In the eyes of Ciaran, there was nothing more infuriating than false promises, and with the amount of funding and focus spent on the *Archelon*, the project was a hokum promise in itself.

Navigating the school amidst all the chaos was easy. It scared her how well she adjusted and adapted to moments of crises — *thrived*, even — but this was something she’d gotten used to at a relatively young age. Students and staff were running away from the source of the explosion and making their way towards the outdoor assembly room on the ground floor. *A golden opportunity*, she thought. While everyone was distracted and running in the direction opposite of herself, she pushed her way past all the faceless masses wracked with fear and panic obstructing her path. It’s not like any of her professors are going to go looking for her either — she didn’t really have anything scheduled for today.

*Is that smoke?*

The accident was grisly, but fortunately, nobody got hurt. She didn’t see any blood, and more importantly, she didn’t smell any of it either. A glance and a whiff of the air as she approached the scene of the blast was more than enough for her to put it all together. It’s 3:24PM, which meant that Aleksander and Nina were testing prototype engines before the blast. The smell of smoke and aluminum was a telltale sign that the prototypes were faulty, and one of the engines in question failed to perform one of its most basic responsibilities: to *not* explode. A team over at R&D has a lot of explaining to do — that’s totally on them. *How do these idiots expect to build a floating city with scientists as incompetent and wasteful as this?*

She’s not going to waste the ticket they’ve given her, even if they didn’t mean to. *These suckers don’t even realize the gravity of what their mistake’s gonna cost ‘em*. Ciaran couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how one simple engine malfunction could potentially lead to the downfall of a billion-gold project funded and studied over centuries… but that’s only if her suspicions end up being correct. They rarely were, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying. She got that bull-headedness from her mother, and she’s always seen it as both a blessing and a curse.

Still, this time she swears it’s different. Too many red flags, too much emphasis on the promise of non-magic. Ciaran knew more than anyone that science was never going to trump the arcane, and what, *Project Archelon* was supposed to change all of that? Suppose she did buy it — all that garbage about *chroma fuel* and *conquering the skies with steel and diesel*. If by some miracle the Archelon were to keep itself in the sky through petrol alone, just how would it be able to sustain itself after liftoff? What about the consequent *gales*, or the manpower, or even the fucking resources needed to keep the damned thing powered? Science is a beautiful thing; a tangible thing; something realistic; something constant… and from the sounds of it, this project was anything *but* science.

Ciaran wanted nothing more than to tear it all down; expose it for the fraud that it is. Some of the others she’d convinced were on board for more down-to-earth reasons like ethics and the dangers of ambition, but for her, it was simply *personal*. Of course it was. How could it not? All her life, she’d hated magic and loved technology — a viewpoint that not many seemed to share. She’s always been different, and she knew it well. Whether it was in Mistral, in Lehestra, or even in Sambar, she’s always felt like someone who lived on the outside of the bubble.

That didn’t matter now. All that matters is discovering the truth, even if it means crushing the hopes and dreams of millions of people inside Lantan and out.

*Because hope is a dangerous thing to cling to*.

*Almost there now*. Alarms continue to blare all throughout the academy, the noise reverberating in the stairwell. Throwing caution to the wind, Ciaran sprints her way upwards at a breakneck pace, her footsteps echoing as she ascends higher and higher. She hated how tall each floor was, but given the nature of their academy, it made sense. Shanai was all about ascension, after all, and that stupid project of theirs was a testament to that. *Faster,* she thought. The muscles in her legs were begging for her to stop, and with each step she took, pain surged throughout her calves closely followed by her thighs. *Faster*.

As she continued to run, her uniform snagged against the brass railing, holding her back with a violent tug. The woman couldn’t help but let out a pained grunt as she reeled from the sheer force of the pull, clutching at her lab coat in frustration. Adrenaline has long since kicked in, and the time for clear and rational thought was over. Without thinking, she unzipped her coat and left it there on the railing to pick up later. Climbing the stairs was much easier after that, and she was certain she’d have enough time to slip in and slip out undetected. *In and out, it’ll be like a 5 minute adventure all to myself*.

She’s reached the head researcher’s office now. Unsurprisingly, it’s locked… but at least that means it’s vacant. This office isn’t the first place Ciaran had broken into, and it’s definitely not going to be the last. The locks installed all around Sambar are of excellent quality, but quality or not, that didn’t make them impenetrable. That’s reason enough for Ciaran to try. Crouching low, still steadying her heartbeat from the climb, she pulls a pin from her hair and uses her pocket screwdriver to wrench the lock open. After a bit of effort, there’s a satisfying *click* and the door swings open.

Ciaran was all alone now. There wasn’t a soul in that office, and based on what she could see, there weren’t any measures of security either… at least nothing outside of a simple *Alarm* spell that anyone could see coming from a mile away. She was glad she was a Corvega, for even if her magic was weak, it was strong enough to overpower and dispel such simple countermeasures. With a flourish and a wave of her hand, the room was devoid of anything that could get in her way. There weren’t that many spellcasters in Lantan, and the nation was far too reclusive to allow many visitors. She was one of the few magically-inclined students in the academy, and even then, she’s significantly more lowkey about it than the others.

Before her was a wooden desk — head researcher Glenn’s desk — and that meant what she was looking for was tucked away inside one of the drawers… probably. It seemed like the only logical place to put it.

*Perfect*, she thought. *It’s time to bring down the sky.*

## Part II

“Corvega. I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.”

*Uh oh*, she thought. Her heart sank, but she’s learned to do the opposite of whatever wearing her heart on her sleeve was. With a knowing smirk, she turns around and faces the source of that all-too familiar voice… and boy, was he *pissed*.

“Zeke. And to answer your question… no, I’m not. Neither are you. Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of the students?”

“It’s under control-  look, Corvega… you don’t know what you saw, just put those files down and forget what you’ve read. I’ll look the other way.”

“*Oh, for fuck’s sake.* This school and everything it stands for is a sham and you *know* it. Project Archelon has got *nothing* to do with science or engineering. It’s just fucking magic.”

“You’re wrong, Corvega. Project Archelon is the apex of Lantanna technolo-”

“Don’t piss in my ear and tell me it’s raining. You knew.”

“Corvega-”

“Enough with the *bullshit*, Zeke! All those *deaths* to uphold a lie born of pride and *arrogance*? What about the collateral? The *gales*? Do you have any idea what would happen to the rest of the world if the Archelon comes online?”

“So many questions and no willingness to hear the answer. It’s time to *ascend*, Corvega. There can be no progress without compromise. You of all people should know this by now.”

“What you’ve— what *we’ve* been working towards isn’t progress. It’s never been progress. This entire time, it’s always been **superiority**.”

“Put those files down now or else.”

“Are you *threatening* me now, Zeke?”

“I’m not just talking about expulsion here, you little *brat*. You *will* pay a fifty thousand gold fine, and you *will* spend twenty-five years in the Lightless Isle if you don’t put those files back where they belong. I don’t want to get on my knees, and I won’t, but think about your future for once! You know, as much as I’d hate to admit it, Corvega, you’re one of the academy’s best and brightest… and I don’t want to see you slapped in irons and rotting away in a cell with all that…”

*Bossy.* That’s what she wanted to tell him. She’d always hated getting bossed around or forced to do things she’d rather not, but she never really had the guts to stand her ground when it was time to face *serious* consequences. Now was no exception, even if she needed it to be. She knew Zeke thought highly of her even before their hostile little exchange, and she knew that he wouldn’t just cast her aside after all the effort he’d put in to cultivating his students and their *potential*, as he put it. He was a piece of shit, but he wasn’t wasteful.

Ciaran could use that.

“Nod, Corvega, and show me you understand. I’m trying to *help* you.”

There was no way around it. She’d just have to expose them all at a later date. Let the heat die down, get within their good graces — get closer, *even if it means losing yourself along the way.* She’d wasted enough time at Mistral, and she’d wasted enough time with the caravans. This was her once chance to finally make something of herself, and she wasn’t about to let it all go to waste over something as small and as stupid as getting caught red-handed. Pride and honor never suited her anyway — she was going to have to sabotage it from within.

Ciaran nodded, sliding the papers back inside the drawers. Zeke’s eyes trained to the head researcher’s desk, then back to her as cautious and watchful as ever. He was always the one to catch her causing trouble and he’d never been *too* harsh, and for the first time since her arrival, she’d struck a nerve. She’d never seen him this panicked, this *vulnerable* before.

Sambar— no, *all* of Lantan is hiding something big. And she wanted to know everything that was worth knowing.

“Fine, Zeke. Let’s just… move on.”

## Part III

Everything changed after Ciaran had learned the truth about the Archelon; about its true purpose — its true potential and the risk it posed to everything and everyone she held dear. Suffice to say, it was infinitely worse than she could've ever imagined. She knew in her heart that this was no longer something personal... and it wasn't just "fucking magic" like she said. The world itself was at stake here, and even if destroying the city was something beyond the realm of possibility, she’d do everything within her power to make it happen.

The months that followed her fateful discovery in the head researcher’s office were spent gathering pivotal allies. Ciaran was by no means charismatic, but she was dogged and *highly* persistent; to the point that it was infectious, and the people who bothered to listen to her soon learned that there were *no small parts* in just about anything — sky-city takedowns included. Word of the Archelon spread like wildfire across the academy, and it was only a matter of time until all of Sambar learned about the ghastly sacrifices the Lantanna council had made to realize such an ambitious project — sacrifices that are, as far as she knows, still ongoing.

Rumors alone weren’t enough, however.

She needed to get those documents. The public deserved to know that they were being deceived; that all their money were going to a project that would only benefit the powerful; that Lantanna scientists inside the academy and out were turning to considerably more *questionable* means for the sake of progress, as well as the danger the Archelon posed to the public above and below. That’s why she needed to return to the head researcher’s office.

Ciaran had no qualms with running the same scheme twice. She had quite the reputation for causing trouble inside and outside the academy, but the extent of her misdeeds weren’t quite severe enough to warrant suspicion in the case that something had abruptly *exploded*. That’s why she knew she’d be in the green the next time a little accident occurred at the laboratory wing. The first time was a golden opportunity she’d simply capitalized on, but the *second* was the result of a late-night realization that she wouldn’t be so lucky next time, and that she’d have to make her own opportunities every now and then.

After doctoring the contents of some experimental engines fresh from the R&D department, Ciaran decided to take *several* strategically-timed restroom breaks over the course of a year to ensure that her plan would go smoothly. She had spread dissent through her trusted proxies, knowing she’d developed a bit of a nasty reputation herself — a factor that ended up being a much larger thorn on her side than she’d anticipated. For once in her life, she was beginning to regret not taking other people seriously. It didn’t matter if people didn’t necessarily buy the rumors; she just needed to plant possibilities in their heads and get the word out quickly.

One day, professor Zeke had abruptly taken a sick leave. This was not just a lucky coincidence.

Ciaran was ready to sew some chaos, and this time, she did it on her own terms. The engines she’d tampered with all served as time-bombs all primed to detonate at a point in time of her choosing. Of course, she had to ensure that nobody got hurt so she’d set them to explode during a rather sizable window between class slots. *Nobody was going to be in class anyway*, she thought. *Not at this hour.* The laboratory was off-limits at this time of day, after all, and all she needed to do was cause a commotion. Everything was going according to plan, and for now, she just had to wait.

It’s 4:34PM.

*Just a little more.*

It’s 4:35PM.

*Bingo.*

There was that all-too familiar resounding ***boom*** that shook the entire building, a burst of smoke flying out the laboratory. Panicked screams burst through the hallway as people began sprinting out of the laboratory while the people from other classes walked in unison outside of their rooms, descending the stairway. She was the only one that wasn’t shocked when the laboratory blew up a *second* time so quickly after the first. Ciaran knew that she couldn’t leave just yet, however, for she’d certainly raise suspicion if she went *up* rather than down along with the rest of them.

The alarms began to ring — her cue to get busy. The smell of blast, smokepowder and soot pleased her to no end. How could it not? Once she was alone, Ciaran wasted no time running back to the head researcher’s office following the explosion.

She was at the staircase now, each step she took reminding her of the sheer rush she felt that one fateful day. It was oddly nostalgic, even if the circumstances this time weren’t quite as spontaneous. As she ascended, she threw caution to the wind; her legs begging for her to stop as she continued to force herself to go higher and faster. The droning noise of the alarms was far quieter than the pain flaring through her muscles, but she could afford to be a little careless. It’s not like anyone could hear her thundering her way up the steps.

The security in the head researcher’s office was as flimsy as always. *Of course Zeke didn’t tell Glenn*. Whether these locks were of Lantanna make or not was irrelevant. A lock is just a lock, after all, and Ciaran had her ways. This time she’d brought proper equipment — some files, a set of lockpicks, and a pair of pliers. Breaking and entering was easy.

A part of her assumed that deep down inside, Zeke might’ve wanted the Archelon to get exposed; for centuries of research to go down the drain as costs, fiscal and in blood, continued to rise with each subsequent stage of development. She couldn’t think of any other reason *why* he hadn’t told Glenn about her prior scheme. By the time she’d arrived, the project was mostly complete but even still, it was enough to pose a threat to mankind whether the council intended it or not.

Ciaran felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach; a chilling tingle down her spine. There was a certain tension in the air. *Something’s not right*. Amidst the burning smell, she singled out something that didn’t quite belong. Acid, she was familiar with. Sulfur was far too distinct. She’d made sure the explosives were produced using materials commonly found in batteries and engine to absolve herself of all suspicion but there was something else caught in the mix.

*No.*

Her body moved on its own, propelling her to move closer to the site of the blast. Thoughts began to race through her mind; possibilities she’d rather not think about. She was only a few steps away now, and the smell was almost overpowering.

*No, no, no.*

Something wasn’t right. She was more than familiar with the smell of powdered brimstone or the pungency of fuel. Her mind came to a complete standstill the more she realized that her plan wasn’t quite as foolproof or as *safe* as she’d thought.

*There’s no way.*

Tears of panic and fear began to well in her eyes, her jaw clenched, knuckles white. The laboratory was totally intact, and had it not been for the smoke and the blackened soot staining half the room, one would assume that the explosion had never happened. Ciaran gently opened the door, ash clinging to her hand as she pushed its steel frame aside. She was inside now. Bits of glass, steel, and wiring are strewn all across the floor. There was a caustic quality to the air she breathed, for the room was filled from top to bottom with the thick, noxious fumes produced by diesel and burning batteries. With the help of some magic, she created a small pocket of air for her to try and breathe in… but there was still that sickening stench of something that didn’t quite belong: a strangely bitter smell, musky and metallic.

*There’s no fucking way.*

She couldn’t still her heart as it continued to race, beating and beating and beating no matter how hard she tried to calm herself down. Gunk and residue from the blast clung to her clothing, and panic’s grip on her began to tighten. She didn’t want to investigate. She didn’t want to confirm or deny *any* of her suspicions. Droning thoughts clouded her mind, begging her to stay back and leave while she still had Glenn’s documents. She wanted to. She truly wanted to quit while she was ahead and steal away without the knowledge that she might have made a mistake — that she’d failed to consider her plan wasn’t foolproof and she wasn’t as big a genius as she’d thought. As she drew closer to the source of that strange and curious smell, she was already on the verge of collapsing.

And then she saw them.

Her heart sank, eyes widened in fear and shock. Tears no longer streamed down her face as she instinctively took a step back. Even if only for a moment, she’d forgotten all about the Archelon; about her plan. Her mind went blank as she stared in horror at the result of her handiwork — at the *collateral* she was fighting to prevent in the first place.

Ciaran ran. She’d never run so fast in her life. There was no looming danger, no bloodthirsty beast trailing after her in hot pursuit. But she ran.

It was all for nothing. She’d failed. Her scheme had failed. All that effort, all that preparation…

...it was all for nothing.

The second she reached her dormitory, she locked the door and fell to the ground, sinking her teeth deep into her hand to stifle a scream — manic, afraid, full of adrenaline, guilt, and shame. Ciaran drew blood, tears gushing, her eyes red as her heart continued to pound uncontrollably. She couldn’t get the images out of her head, and the smell just wouldn’t leave her — a series of ghastly senses she’d much rather forget entrenched into her mind; pungent stains of ash, soot, and tar latched to her very soul.

***There was no going back now.***

## Part IV (Final)

The main campus was to be closed for the rest of the trimester as Lantanna specialists scoured the area, investigating an infernal explosion in the R&D department. Four lives — all first-year students — were tragically lost as a result of ill-maintained equipment. According to the lawmen’s reports, the students had neglected to filter the engines of an experimental land vehicle. As a result, large concentrations of metal and other foreign substances found themselves clogging the machine’s insides. This eventually led to stalling and finally, the rapid buildup of heat. All four were killed instantly in the ensuing freak accident.

Or so the story goes. Most of the students were simply relieved it wasn’t the work of witchcraft.

Ciaran left her room for the first time in the better part of two weeks, wincing as she was met with biting Lantanna winds the second she opened the door. It was dark out. Her headaches were starting to get more frequent as of late, and so she decided it would be best if she were to get some fresh air for a change. It was brighter than usual, much to her chagrin, and it was high time she put herself back together — or at least pretend to. Not a single soul suspected her and she intended to keep it that way. Her evening stroll was rather lonely, for most of the students returned to their homes following the cancellation of school. She spent this time in thought: plotting what to do next, brainstorming the safest and most efficient way to disseminate the things she’s learned, as well as figure out what to do next.

She wasn’t just idling in her dormitory these past few weeks, wallowing in self-pity over the fact that her actions led to the death of four people — people with friends and family; people who once held ambitions of their own. That would have been an insult to their memory, or at least, that’s what she told herself. Ciaran needed to make sure the sacrifices of those who’ve perished weren’t for nothing, so she spent those weeks reading the Archelon files, jotting down all the necessary details to facilitate her whistleblowing.

Despite the overbearing heat, the dorm areas were rather blissful now that all the students have returned home. It was easy for her to slow down and admire the scenery in ways she’d never thought were possible. There was a certain beauty to Lantanna architecture. It was simplistic and modest, and the buildings were built so closely to one another that one couldn’t help but wonder if they were part of the same construct. Words like “modern” and “streamlined” often came up whenever she asked her peers to explain the design processes to her, but she never really understood what they meant until now. Though it was dark and dimly lit, the streetlights gave her a good enough glimpse of her surroundings.

*“She blows us up, then she goes for a lovely evening stroll as if she’s done nothing wrong.”*

Bitter winds continued to blow against her. Ciaran felt her heart sink and her muscles tense; that invisible yet ever-present spike in her brain jabbed into her once more. Pain flared at the back of her mind. She felt herself getting heavier with each passing second, and a strange sensation seemed to cling to her like tar. Nothing she did seemed to get rid of the feeling. Slowly and subtly, she looked over her shoulder, keeping her mouth shut for now.

*“That’s cold. Wasn’t even around to see it happen and now she doesn’t say anything.”*

Naturally, there was nobody there. A cold shiver went down her spine, prompting her to keep walking. *It’s a lovely evening*, she told herself over and over. *You’re on a walk to clear your head and get yourself all sorted out.* This was nothing new to her. Maintaining a facade of normalcy was easy — she’s done it for so many years, it was almost second nature to her. The last thing she needed was anyone’s pity. *Now of all times, since you’re hearing them again.* Ciaran knew they weren’t real. She knew about vengeful spirits and revenants and whatnot, and these were unrelated. Whatever vile voices lingered in her head, she knew they could do nothing to her. They were persistent, however, and they seemed to trail after her about as well as her own shadow.

Her peaceful walk lasted a good thirty minutes before she decided it was time to get some rest and bring back some sense of normality back into her life. She needed some reprieve, and she knew exactly where and how to get it.

There was a corner club — Castor — close to her dorm that was well-insulated and almost always empty. It reminded her of home despite the fact that there was nothing there that would suggest it. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, with its gorgeous black stone counters, or the solo tables at the far back with the perfect amount of light. Or maybe it was simply because people rarely came here. Either way, she liked the solitude, and opted to claim a small table for herself coupled with a glass of something fierce. She lit up a cigarette and took a drag, the smoke hazing up her dimly lit portion of the room. They played jazz here too, which was always a good thing in her eyes. Most nights, the music was live, but tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Instead, the music came from a box-shaped construct that sat in the center of the stage, playing re-recorded tracks she’s heard a dozen times before.

Not that she minded.

She’d asked the waitstaff for the papers from this morning and it didn’t take long for them to arrive. Ciaran had realized her blunder *after* the paper arrived. Naturally, there was an article about the ongoing investigation concerning the explosion back at the academy. She felt her heart getting drenched with that viscous black substance once again, and her breathing staggered slightly. A soft chuckle escaped her mouth before scanning through its contents to see if anyone’s discovered anything new; her finger gently ran down the article lines until she found something that caught her eye: the name of the reporter who’d written it. Odessa Sark was the last person she’d expected to see in the papers, but there she was. She was a good person — one of the few people she actually *liked* here in Lantan, but still, she couldn’t help but wonder if Odessa’s hunt for justice and information was something she could work with. For the time being, Odessa didn’t know she was responsible. Ciaran set the paper down and sighed. She’d spent enough of the day overthinking — it was time for some undeserved self-indulgence.

*“Is this what we died for? So you could sit here and wallow in your own despair?”*

In the end, she gave the cigarette a tap to shake off the ash before raising it to her lips once more. She scoffed, sinking into the table and clutching the back of her head in pain as she felt her headache coming back with a vengeance.

She didn’t care anymore. Whatever was happening now was bigger than her; bigger than all the people in Lantan. It was high time she did something. With her free hand, she reached for her sending stone. It began to ring, and it rang for quite some time. Ciaran rhythmically tapped her finger against the stone as it was raised to her ear, head gently bobbing to the sway of smooth jazz. Finally, there was a click, and she could hear a familiar voice picking up on the other end. A weak smile formed on her lips, though the coldness in her eyes suggested it was forced even if there really wasn’t an audience.

“Odessa,” she said, slowly. “Remember that thing we talked about last year? I think it’s time we started currying in those favors. I’ve got a plan in the works, and I need people I can trust.”