“Subject 2797’s vitals have ceased.”

  Splayed out before them was the remains of a once proud and noble creature, sullied by the hands of academic pursuit. The flames that ignited their soul snuffed out in the favor of progress.

  “I see,” spoke Ilea Vim. His calculating gaze studied the new cadaver before them. “Total time before they succumbed?” he questioned the lab assistant.

  “Twenty-three minutes and forty seconds, doctor.”

  “I see,” repeated the raven-haired scientist. “Prepare the next batch, I am retiring to my quarters to compile the data.”

  Ilea Vim pardoned himself from the test chamber, walking through the sterile, cold hallways of the test facility. This was one of many he had tucked away from prying eyes. His research wasn’t what one would consider “above board”, but such foolishness mattered not to him.

  Progress would be made.

  His curiosity would be sated.

  Resonators would evolve to the next stage.

  It was just a foregone conclusion at this point. The question was, how many eggs would need to be broken for this recipe? Even the genius scientist couldn’t say for sure.

  Ilea Vim’s days started like most people. He got up at 6 AM, checked on his investments and research grants. Emails by 7 AM, and breakfast by 8.

  Breakfast was always accompanied by his lab managers reporting updates on their test subjects, and any new findings or losses that occurred overnight. Even if it seemed like he was ignoring them, he heard and digested every word.

  If his dutiful assistants ever doubted him, he spoke before they had a chance to voice their concerns. Newbies quickly learned this aspect about the enigmatic doctor – he always knew. There was no hiding from the genius of Dr. Ilea Vim.

  “Sir about 3144-”

  “Feroce, yes,” he responded without missing a beat.

  “Yes sir, our fastest one yet.”

  “Time?”

  “Twenty-one hours thirty minutes.”

  “Fascinating. We have the process to weed out the incompliant quickly, see to it that the process documentation gets updated and disseminated to the rest of the technicians.”

  “Yes sir!”

  Every morning went this way.

  It was routine, it was normal. Even with new recruits in the trust circle, very little changed.

  “Dr. Vim,” spoke Ryo Saitou, the head of security.

  It was difficult for Ilea Vim to say he liked anyone. In fact, it was something that was just an outright lie. He had useful people and those who could not be replaced.

  Ryo Saitou was part of the latter group.

  “Mr. Saitou,” greeted the scientist.

  “Whistler retrieved the subject of interest and is on the way back,” reported the security chief.

  “As expected,” Ilea paused. “What difficulties were there?”

  “Whistler lost an arm in the skirmish.”

  “What were the exact orders given to 5111?”

  “Lie in wait with Vail and strike after the cat and the boy had sufficiently weakened the subject’s Resonators.”

  “They were stronger than expected.” Ilea nodded slowly, having already picked up that hiccup in the operation.

  “Yes, Whistler reports the lunar had Volontà Estesa, which wasn’t in any of our documentation.”

  “We’ll need to have that updated. Additionally, see to it our associates obtain more Lunar elements. I think we should study their unique properties in greater detail.”

  “It will be done.”

  “And witnesses?”

  “Discredited, as usual.”

  “Excellent, ensure our people are paid.”

  “Of course.”

  And with that, Ilea was free to continue his morning. Ten in the morning usually saw the good doctor in his office, doing general administration tasks and keeping tabs on his employees.

  “It’s a shame about the loss of that cat, it was one of the hardier subjects. But a loss is a loss, the boy…”

  A file popped up on his computer. A picture of an average-looking Maestro was displayed on the screen. Green eyes, brunet hair, a record only months in the making. Nothing stood out…

  ...to a simpleton that is. With common breed Resonators by his side, he had unlocked potential Ilea had yet to see in any other.

  “That otter sniffed me out… that shouldn’t have been possible,” Ilea Vim mused, as he studied his most cherished file on his computer. “None of them are special. Not a one, and yet he is.”

  “Shouri Tomoshibi, I will know what makes you tick.”

  By noon Ilea resumed his lab work. Today he joined one of his head scientists, Klaus Martin.

  Klaus was a driven fellow. He had earned a spot in Ilea’s assortment of useful tools. This tool provided a valuable service – his knowledge of electrical systems and mechanical bodies. Collecting Sprites from their homeland of L’ultera was a simple task (in fact one such shipment was coming in that day). Just providing the gem-encapsulated creatures an adequate body to perform their daily tasks was another matter entirely.

  It was a theory Ilea had cooked up in the past, but with everything else going on with the ongoing Feroce projects, he just didn’t have time to spare.

  That was until Dr. Martin fell into his lap.

  A normal man would think it a stroke of good fortune that such a convenient person appeared before the genius doctor.

  It wasn’t difficult to make a man desperate enough to seek employment from shadier organizations.

  A raving fanaticism for Ilea’s cause also helped oil the gears.

  And the gears were oiled – Sprites were marvelous little Resonators. They were mostly spared from the Feroce experimentation. Mostly.

  As long as the sprites did the jobs asked of them, they got to keep their new bodies. Any dissenters or slackers became the next test subjects. It was as simple as that.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “There are anomalies in the stored Resonator’s health, are there any adjustments that can be made to the system?”

  Ilea considered the request before him. A call timer was displayed on his laptop screen ticking up, various notes were typed up around the various other windows he had open.

  “Please send me the latest diagnostic data for review,” requested the scientist.

  “Of course, I will have it done – I have a vested interest in your work being completed,” his accomplice easily agreed.

  “Anything else?”

  “Have you found anything interesting in that rhythm script?”

  Ilea looked at a thick book sitting on his desk. The cover was well worn, the title long lost to the forward march of time. Even closed the book spilled its secrets to him.

  “The cipher is interesting,” commented the scientist.

  “So not yet?” questioned the curious party.

  “I never said that Mr. Noel.”

  “Please Ilea, René is fine.”

  Dr. Vim didn’t consider the invitation. He stole a glance at the book once more. “The book’s contents are no secret to me. The Orchestra of Heaven cannot be tamed with magic or technology. They will abide by their oath to their contracted Maestro only. No force can hope to claim it.”

  “Indeed, I’ve heard the rumors,” chuckled René knowingly. “I’ve already spent quite a few sharps on that. Tell me something I don’t know, doctor.”

  Ilea remained silent for a moment, studying the continued incrementation of their call timer.

  “There may be a couple of interesting adjustments in your investments should I hear something that tickles my fancy.”

  The doctor took a breath and spoke, “Even as Ethereals, the Orchestra are fallible. Their Maestros are a primary weakness. However, as concepts which governed the physical realm, they can be bested by creatures who lurk in the intangible.”

  “Lunar elements?” René guessed.

  “No, these are Null elements, possessing the dream attribute.”

  “Dream attribute? Hmmm…”

  The two men went silent, the call timer ticking into yet higher numbers as the rumination continued.

  “I’ll have my people look into it,” René decided. “The direct approach simply doesn’t work when fighting Ethereals. However, this lead might bear fruit.”

  “Indeed,” agreed the scientist.

  “Well, I must be going Ilea, I’ll have the money wired to your people shortly.”

  Ilea said nothing more and allowed the line to disconnect. He cared not for Ethereals or otherwise. They were always in such a nebulous state of existence. Though his eyes saw through their fa?ade, he needn’t bother with them – they were boring, mundane even. No different from a Scherzando in that sense.

  Neither Scherzando nor Ethereal would help against what was ahead. No, there was a greater purpose for everything. Maestros and Resonators were their future – their salvation. For that, he had to understand everything about them, everything that made them tick. How fallible they were; how strong they could become.

  If that meant weaponizing the entire population, so be it. They’d thank him in the end. Or not. He cared little for accolades or praise, only the result mattered.

  Once more, the file of Shouri Tomoshibi graced his screen. Mundane as the boy was, it stoked the fires of curiosity that welled deep within Ilea Vim.

  Perhaps, Ilea considered, this approach was flawed?

  How could someone so boring be simultaneously so exceptional?

  He had to know.

  He would know soon.

  “Dr. Vim.”

  It was another morning, as scripted as ever – Ryo Saitou was briefing him on the developments over the last day.

  However-

  “The plane carrying the boy crashed in the Subterris Desert.”

  Ilea dropped his fork, the utensil clattering against the plate. His face paled, as his stoic guise shattered.

  “WHAT?” The doctor’s throat burned, not having been used in such a harsh manner in decades.

  Ryo Saitou was not a man to crack under pressure, and even his employer’s ire earned no change in his own stoicism. “We have reason to believe he’s still alive and survived the crash. The black box tells of a Resonator aiding in the crash and his escape,” reported the chief of security.

  The mad doctor calmed himself. “Right. Keep me updated.”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  With that, Ilea was left alone. The man hurriedly retrieved his laptop computer and reviewed Shouri’s file again. “This tempo is not normal. It can’t be etude. It’s too simple of an explanation,” the doctor mused to himself.

  The book sent by René Noel spoke to him.

  “à deux…” he breathed. “If the legends hold true, then perhaps those redactions I made in his family history file were less of a tall tale after all…”

  “Shouri Tomoshibi has been spotted in Alspo.”

  “Send 5111 to retrieve him.

  “It shall be done.”

  …

  “Whistler was destroyed in combat, but we did recover the sprite’s crystal.”

  “Where is the boy?”

  “Alspo General Hospital. Our people report he came in with no rhythm, but they were able to save him.”

  “…perhaps our approach is too heavy-handed…”

  “Doctor?”

  “6002, send 6002 to retrieve 61354-35129.”

  “Colette Severine?”

  “Yes.”

  “It will be done.”

  …

  “Colette Severine escaped, her Resonator was far stronger than anticipated and Vail had to escape before too much of a commotion was caused.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Doctor?”

  “She’ll run to the boy now.”

  …

  “We’ve located Shouri Tomoshibi again, he’s in-”

  “Wenja. That’s perfect. I want you to leak some intel. Begin preparations to move our main operations to Quiretteh.”

  “… It will be done.”

  Ryo Saitou left the room as he did every morning. Once alone, Ilea’s stony expression cracked. “If I can’t have you Shouri, then I will make you come to me.”

  “If my hope in you is misplaced… then I will continue, for the sake of this beautiful world.”