The two of them stood in front of the ruins and said nothing.

  There was nothing to say, everything left to the eyes.

  The melted doorframe. The acrid haze. The pit in the floor where Cid's life's work had been. The absence of everything that mattered.

  Rhaene stared at the place where her sister's apartment used to be. The horn was still clutched in her hand, her knuckles bone-white around its fractured surface.

  Arbor stood beside her, motionless. His processors ran continuous scans of the wreckage, cataloguing chemical signatures, structural damage, thermal residue. None of it mattered. None of it could tell him where Cid was. Where Aren was. What could've possibly happened.

  The silence stretched. The haze drifted. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped.

  Then-

  "-told us to check it out personally. Crew hasn't reported in since yesterday. Last transmission said they were moving on the target."

  Another voice, gruffer, impatient. "Then they're dead. Target probably got her before she cooked off. We're just here to confirm and sweep for anything salvageable."

  "Yeah, but if the crew is dead, that means whoever we're dealing with is-"

  "That means we do our jobs and don't ask any daft questions. Now shut up and keep an eye out."

  Rhaene's head turned. Slowly. Deliberately. Like a predator catching the scent of their prey.

  Arbor's optics brightened. "Two individuals. Approaching from the east. Armed. Unaware of our presence."

  Rhaene didn't respond. She just moved.

  The poor fools never heard her coming.

  The first one, the talker, was reaching for his weapon when Rhaene's fist connected with his jaw. Bone cracked. He spun, hit the wall, and crumpled. Still alive. Barely.

  The second one, the gruff one, managed to get his weapon halfway out of its holster before Arbor's hand closed around his wrist. Metal fingers tightened. Bones crunched. The thug screamed, but the sound died as Arbor's other hand clamped over his mouth and lifted him off the ground.

  Arbor's optics blazed in the dim light. "You will be silent. You will answer questions. Nod if you understand."

  The thug nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face, his broken wrist hanging at a wrong angle.

  Rhaene was there in an instant, crowding into his space, her three eyes burning into his one. She held up Cid's horn.

  "Recognize this?"

  The thug's eyes went wide. He tried to speak, but Arbor's grip prevented it. Arbor loosened slightly.

  "That's- that's a demon horn-"

  "It's my sister's horn." Rhaene's voice was flat. Empty. "The woman whose apartment just exploded. Talk. What do you know."

  "I don't- I don't know anything- we were just sent to check the scene—"

  "Sent by who?"

  "I don't know his name! He runs things in the Glitterdelve- big operation- drugs mostly- the chemist worked for him- she tried to quit- he sent a crew to bring her back-"

  Rhaene's face didn't change. Didn't flicker. It just pierced its way deeper into this thug's face.

  "Name."

  "We just call him the Boss. I've never met him- I report to a lieutenant- Cheshie, he handles the chemists- he was supposed to check in after the job- BUT HE hasn't- that's why they sent us-"

  "And this... Cheshie. Where is he?"

  "He's got places all over the Foundry District- safe houses- but his main operation- where they make the product- it's in a warehouse near the old rail yard- I can take you- I can't get you in but- but- just please-"

  Rhaene stared at him for a long moment. Then she looked at the horn in her hand. At the crack she'd put in it.

  She grabbed the thug by the collar, prying him from Arbor's grasp, and dragged him toward the ruined apartment.

  Arbor's processors registered her intent immediately. "Rhaene. That is not-"

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  She ignored him. Kept walking.

  "Rhaene. I know what you are trying. Do not stoop this low."

  She reached the edge of the melted doorway and stopped. Looked down at the bubbling, fizzing pit where Cid's floor used to be. Then back at the thug, who was whimpering, struggling weakly in her grip.

  "Rhaene." Arbor's voice was quiet. Firm. "That is not who we are."

  She looked at him. A brief, terrible awareness flickered in her eyes.

  "He was going to kill her," she said. "Him or someone like him. They sent people to take her. They did this."

  "That is not a logical line of reasoning." Arbor didn't move closer. Didn't reach for her. Just stood there, solid and present. "Throwing him into acid will not bring her back. It will not help us find Cheshie. It will not help us find the truth."

  Rhaene's grip tightened. The thug sobbed.

  "PLEASE- I PROMISE- I'LL-I'LL GO ON THE STRAIGHT. NEVER AGAIN. JUST PLEASE DON'T-"

  For a long, agonizing moment, Rhaene stood at the edge of the gluttonous ruin, her sister's murderer's accomplice in her hands, the acid bubbling below, Arbor's words hanging in the air between them.

  Then she threw him.

  Not into the pit, past it. Into the corner of the ruined apartment, where he hit the melted wall and slumped to the floor, groaning but alive. The acid hadn't touched him. And it wouldn't, if he didn't move. He'd just have one hell of a headache when he woke up. Maybe some brain damage from fumes. But nothing he didn't deserve.

  Rhaene stood at the edge, breathing hard.

  Arbor said nothing. Just watched.

  She turned away from the pit, from the thug, from the ruins of everything. Walked past Arbor without meeting his eyes. Stopped in the corridor and leaned against the wall, her forehead pressed to the cold concrete.

  "I know," she whispered. "I know."

  Arbor moved to stand beside her. Not touching. Just present.

  They stood there for a bit.

  Arbor tied the other thug to a support beam with industrial cable, leaving him groaning and bleeding for the enforcers to find whenever they bothered to show up. It wasn't mercy. It was efficiency. Dead bodies attracted more attention than live ones and were doubly difficult to cover up.

  They were about to leave when a sound from the corridor made them both turn.

  Footsteps. Light, hesitant, approaching the melted domicile from another alleyway.

  A figure appeared in the gap. Human. Male. Young, maybe early twenties, with the kind of bright-eyed earnestness that didn't belong anywhere near the Dripstone Marrows. He wore a slightly-too-large lab coat over simple clothes, and in his hands, he carried a bouquet of flowers, actual, living flowers, their petals a soft, impossible blue against the industrial grime. A luxury good. Arbor noted it immediately.

  The man looked up. He saw the devastation. The flowers slipped from his fingers, landing in a puddle of chemical sludge that immediately began eating through the stems.

  "No," he breathed, his face crumpling. "No, no, no-"

  The moment he made noise, Rhaene was on him in an instant, slamming him against the wall, her forearm pressed to his throat. "You one of them? Come to check on the damage too?"

  The young man's eyes went wide with terror. He shook his head frantically, words failing him.

  Arbor approached, his optics scanning. "Human. Minimal combat training. No visible weapons. Carrying botanical specimens- rare, living. Not standard thug equipment."

  Rhaene didn't loosen her grip. "Then what are you doing here? Talk!"

  "F-flowers!" he choked out. "I bring flowers! Every week! For Cid! I'm- I'm Nerium, I work at Corpus Academy, I've been coming here for three years, I just- I wanted to ask her to collaborate on experiments, she always says no, but I keep coming, and I- I thought maybe this week—"

  He was rambling, tears streaming down his face, his words tumbling over each other in a panicked flood. Rhaene's grip didn't loosen.

  "Three years," she repeated flatly. "You've been bringing flowers to my sister for three years."

  "Your- your sister?" Nerium's eyes widened further, if that was possible. "You're Cid's sister? She mentioned you once! Said you were- ... a muscle-brained glutton..."

  The man braced for an impact from the volatile woman holding him against the wall.

  Rhaene's arm wavered, loosening its grip. Just slightly. Arbor saw it.

  "His story is verifiable," Arbor said quietly. "Corpus Academy is a legitimate institution. His emotional responses appears genuine."

  For a long moment, Rhaene stared into Nerium's tear-streaked, terrified face. Then, slowly, she lowered her arm. She stepped back.

  "She's gone," Rhaene said. Her voice was flat again. "Her horn's in my pocket. Someone came for her, and presumably, when she didn't cooperate, blew it all up."

  Nerium slid down the wall, his legs giving out. He sat in the chemical residue, seemingly oblivious to the burns forming on his lab coat. "She's... she's dead?"

  "She's dead." Rhaene's voice cracked on the words. "Aren too..."

  Rhaene didn't want to think about it. She had emotions for Cid, grief and sorrow, but when she thought of Aren. Those tiny blue eyes and hands that tried to grab anything and everything. She didn't have any tears to cry. Just a numbing hole ripping and shredding through her abdomen.

  "And the people who did it are going about their merry way."

  Nerium looked up at her. Through the tears, through the shock, something else flickered in his eyes. Something that looked almost like recognition.

  "You're going after them," he said. It wasn't a question.

  Rhaene met his gaze. "Damn right I am."

  "Then I'm coming with you."

  Arbor's optics flickered. "You are a civilian researcher with no combat training. Your involvement would be-"

  "I don't care." Nerium stood on shaky legs, wiping his face with a sleeve. "Three years. Three years of no. Call it sunk-cost if you want." His voice broke, but he didn't stop. "But I'm not letting that end with her dead and me doing nothing."

  Rhaene stared at him. She wasn't a moron. It was written all over the poor fool's face. The man loved her sister. And despite it being unrequited for three years, he never stopped.

  She turned to Arbor, but the robot did not signal anything. Neither approval nor disapproval. This call was up to Rhaene.

  "You'll probably die," she said.

  "Probably." Nerium's smile was watery but real. "But I'd rather die trying than live with doing nothing."

  A long silence. Arbor watched, processors cycling. Rhaene watched, something shifting behind her mask of grief.

  Then she nodded. Once.

  "Welcome to the hunt, flower boy. Don't slow us down."

  Nerium nodded frantically, already reaching for the scanner at his belt. "I won't. I promise. I have equipment, databases, access to Academy records. If these people bought supplies anywhere in Acedia, I can find out."

  Arbor and Rhaene exchanged a glance. This wasn't hope, neither of them was ready for hope. Not yet.

  But it was still a reason to keep going. And that was all they really needed.