Chapter Text
«Let me not then die ingloriously and without a struggle, but let me first do some great thing that shall be told among men hereafter.»
— Homer, The Iliad
He should have been surprised, but he wasn't.
Viktor knew that things would end this way sooner or later. He hadn't expected it to happen so soon. He had mistakenly assumed that the Senate would act once his body had cooled and the days of mourning were over, even if it was merely hypocrisy on their part. After all, they didn’t want to lose Jayce’s favor.
Viktor was not satisfied with the recognition Jayce had been granted. For the people of Piltover, rising to a senatorial position was an unprecedented honor; but he had remained behind the scenes for years, watching from the shadows as the political game unfolded.
He had come to understand that support for his proposals and favors was never free: everything was charged down to the last penny, and guarantees were always demanded in return. Jayce Talis’s rise was nothing more than a staged performance, a play in which everyone was a participant.
In it, the dream of progress was sold to the people and the illusion of freedom to Jayce, without considering that he had traded the Hěax for a pretty golden medal.
But, what could Viktor do against the Senate? What could he say?
Viktor wasn't a pessimist, but he was a cynic. He knew when he was in a fight with no chance of winning.
He always knew it.
From that first night, when Lachesis, the Moira of fate, embodied in the distinguished Senator Medarda, granted them her support, Viktor knew the price would be exacted all too soon; for no one grants a single day more to a fate already mapped out.
He couldn’t blame her. If it hadn’t been the senator, it would have been the youngest of the Kiramman family, the professor, the academy, or whoever. The important thing was that he had put the fruits of his labor on the line for this opportunity.
Viktor had no regrets; he was sure Jayce didn’t either. But, perhaps, looking back, he could have spent that time on more humane pursuits. Now he lay in that cold study, trying to settle his affairs and put things in order. There, immersed in ramblings that consumed more energy than remained in his bones; and wondering if those dreams of improving the lives of others would have the chance to leave the paper on which they were so meticulously written.
He set the journal aside because of the stiffness in his limbs and the charcoal that he could barely hold between his fingers. The pain in his joints, which once rose from his leg and settled in his hip, had worsened. It climbed up his spine, twisted by the weight of an ailment with no name and no clear remedy, settling in his shoulders and wrists with an unbearable burning sensation.
The public announcement still echoed in his head. The cheers, the chants, and Jayce Talis being hailed as the undisputed inventor of the Hěax in the eyes of his people. Because Jayce was the very embodiment of progress, the person people aspired to be and admired. Viktor wondered how long it would be before the weight of that title began to bear down on Jayce’s shoulders. He hoped it would never happen. At the very least, Viktor didn’t want to witness it.
Jayce had placed that chain around his neck as a wedding ring, a promise, and a yoke.
He was intrigued to know what would become of Jayce, so emotional and extremist, so euphoric and fatalistic as he was. Whether he would end up on the edge of those cliffs, even if only in his mind. Viktor hoped it wouldn’t be so, that despair would never catch him in its icy claws.
Exhausted, he rested his head on the cold desk, amid distillation stills and glass retorts. He placed the weight on the brass pan with difficulty and adjusted the scale. The work was simple and mechanical. A task memorized through years of practice that barely silenced the sound of his own voice. Memories of those days when Jayce still had time to share his ideas and calculations.
When the alum reached the exact concentration, Viktor added it to the mixture burning in the brazier. He took a nugget of Hěax and stirred it in, waiting for the powder to change color. The previous sample had come close to his goal; however, it proved unstable when tested on a small rat, which he had kept well-fed and well-cared-for until its tragic end.
That led him to reconsider his progress and retrace his steps, to prevent more creatures, even innocent humans, from perishing due to a lack of precision.
Before Jayce was summoned by the Senate to meet its demands in honor of the city's five-hundredth anniversary, they had dusted off old notes and theories regarding the use of Hěax in Amerasia. Jayce, jaded and overwhelmed by the glitter bombs, the inlaid reliquaries, and the tiny handheld fans; he had scribbled on the parchment in a feverish trance, eager to pin down his thoughts before they evaporated and escaped out the window.
Jayce was covered in ink and oil, ecstatic with euphoria; his beard half-grown, his eyes red from lack of sleep and deep black circles under them. Just as on that first night when he spoke of the Divine, of banished gods and classical myths, he mentioned Atlas; the goddess of anguish and fear; and the moly, the root that protects against all enchantments.
When asked what had inspired him to investigate the application of Hěax to living organisms, Jayce confessed that he had seen it in a dream.
This led to a theory: if Hěax could cure the plague that was devouring the crops, then its effect on living organisms—animals and humans—could be explored.
With a firsthand experimental basis, there was the possibility of applying its use in drug development.
Stirring the mixture one last time, Viktor extinguished the flame and waited.
What exactly, he wasn’t sure.
❈ ❈ ❈
It had been two weeks since he’d heard from Jayce.
“A trip to the Hěax mines that took longer than expected,” Jayce would say, looking sheepish, as had been the case lately.
It was always a meeting that took longer than planned, an urgent matter of state that had to be attended to immediately, political tensions that consumed his time in the lab; balls and banquets that could not be ignored for fear of offending nobles and investors. The transition from scientist to senator was gradual and organic. Jayce was dedicated and passionate, a sort of hero of the people, and Jayce, in turn, revelled in the recognition, in the thought that he was doing good for the city.
Now that he had given the Hěax to the people and fulfilled his dream, Jayce felt the responsibility to maintain order and control over what they had built with such dedication. So Jayce had to sacrifice one of his two lives. And he sacrificed science for the sake of order, trusting that Viktor would be the backbone that would make it function, overlooking the fact that they were a team. The absence of the other merely left them as halves with untapped potential.
That afternoon, Jayce arrived at the lab with a few servants from the senatorial household following in his wake, until he politely asked them for privacy and took the silver tray containing all manner of appetizers.
“I have a good reason for being absent.”
The clatter of the tray broke the silence. It was all so close to the iron filings and pine oil, but Viktor didn’t give it a single glance. Jayce tried to get his attention. Jayce kept his tone soft and contrite. Anxious for a rebuke that, at least from Viktor, would never come.
Who was Viktor to meddle in his political life?
“It’s not necessary.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be?”
“Then you are!” But he quickly added, “Let me make it up to you, apologize.”
Viktor sighed. He had no energy for anything, not even for getting lost in minor disagreements that, in another time, would have drawn a couple of laughs from him. Viktor didn’t take pride in making Jayce miserable. And yet, at that moment, his visit wasn’t entirely welcome.
Viktor was frustrated, exhausted by his repeated failures and the increasingly bleak results of the project. The trial and error that had once kept him absorbed, fueled by curiosity, had turned into a race against time: the last vestige of his presence, the last chance to help his people and spare them a fate like his own.
Salvation wasn’t even an option for him, but that was the price of science and discovery. He thought that, if another life existed at all, perhaps this one would be kinder.
“...did you hear what I said?”
No, Viktor didn’t.
His train of thought veered toward a dark and twisted corner of his psyche, while Jayce vented after long sessions with the crystal mine owners and the tensions within the Senate. Viktor wasn’t unaware of anything; he had read the reports and listened in the hallways. He knew of Noxus’s proposals to collaborate on technological exchange, as well as warnings that sounded more like a direct threat.
Although this should weigh heavily on his heart, all Viktor could focus on were the written notes that lost clarity the more he reviewed them.
The alum extract produced an unstable compound after three hours. The next experiment, using iron and gold powder, left a foul odor and a metallic taste in the mouth, as well as a brittle sediment.
An elm seed, with a beautiful sprout, ended in root necrosis, due to excessive absorption and high toxicity.
And, in that old study of animal matter: convulsions and bleeding.
There seemed to be no end to the tests, and Viktor couldn’t help but feel guilty for the agony he inflicted on all living matter.
It was necrosis, corrosion, leaf death, and trunk rot.
Viktor recalled that person whose studies were not unlike his own. With similar backgrounds and equally unsettling intentions. Viktor never thought he’d see him again. Soon he found himself planning a trip to Zaun, if that person was still alive and dwelling in the same cold cave like a hermit. It would take a great deal of pride to return to the place he had once abandoned in disillusionment. But he couldn’t be more hypocritical when it was the foundation that shaped the man he was today, and the teachings that put Hěax in action.
How ashamed Viktor was of it all, how much he hated being unable to excise it from his body like a growth, and hands clinging to his shoulders despite his attempts to claim every achievement and advancement as its own.
But who else would have taught him about the Pneuma and the treatise on compounds and elements?
Finally, Viktor convinced himself that this visit was meant to settle old scores.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” Viktor asked.
If Jayce was hurt, he didn’t show it.
Jayce’s face was so expressive that he didn’t need words. His concern was written all over him. The tray was one clue; his nervous hands, unsure where to rest, fearful of breaking a bone, were another. Just like the question on the tip of Jayce’s tongue, which didn’t focus on the progress of the work or time spent alone, but on rest and aching limbs.
Politics hadn’t taught him a thing. Jayce wasn’t the best at lying or hiding his feelings. Viktor hoped, no matter how much antipathy he felt toward Senator Medarda, that she could guide Jayce so that the vultures in the high houses wouldn’t tear him apart like in the stories his friend enjoyed talking about so much.
Although he wasn’t certain of the woman’s intentions, he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe in her honesty.
After all, wasn’t she the daughter of the supreme commander who now threatened to seize the Hěax for her own ambitious ends?
And, at the same time, wasn’t it said that children shouldn’t have to bear the stigma of their parents?
Upon further reflection, Viktor concluded that the world he would leave behind—and that future generations would inherit—would not be a kind one. Rather, it was the prelude to something greater and more terrible.
“I was saying we could take a little break from homeopathic use of the Hěax. Let the matter cool off for a moment so we can revisit it with a new perspective and a rested mind.” Viktor knew he was saying it for his sake.
For Viktor and no one else. Jayce hadn’t been to the lab in weeks, and when he did, he barely scribbled down a few proposals or corrected designs and diagrams—like someone who’s had a sudden flash of inspiration and needs to record it. What Jayce was now offering was to set aside the project he’d proposed himself and to which he’d contributed little or nothing since then.
“What would we do then?”
“We could revisit old plans and designs. An improved version based on the years of experience we have behind us,” Jayce added in a conciliatory tone. “We’ve been thinking about practical, immediate applications. Safer tools, defenses, and improved architecture. Ways to apply the Hěax in a sustainable way, and reduce the strain on those who use it.”
Seeing that Viktor didn’t respond, and noticing that he had returned to the notes without a flicker of emotion, Jayce forced himself to add, “This latest trip to the mines proved what you’ve always warned about, Viktor. The toll is brutal! There are men working themselves to exhaustion, and dust everywhere.
It’s getting harder and harder to keep mining operations afloat. But what matters most are the people! If only we could boost the body’s resistance to the strain… It would make an immediate difference!”
Then Viktor looked up from his equations and raised an eyebrow at the strange speech.
“We’ve been thinking, who?”
“...Mel suggested it, and later the proposal reached the Senate. I didn’t bring it up in the first place; it came up naturally during the briefing meeting.”
Jayce sought his gaze; he said it with such sincerity because he truly believed it. It didn’t seem staged. Jayce was seeking mutual agreement. However, Viktor couldn’t help but feel sidelined in decisions that involved them both. Once something was proposed to the Senate, it was a reality. It went from being a suggestion to an explicit order for everyone below them, and even for those sharing the same room.
Jayce ignored the fact that there was no choice, and he had missed his chance to refuse.
It was a formal decree.
Although Viktor had been warning for half a decade about the unfair treatment and working conditions of the miners in Hěax, there were hardly any labor reforms. The use of the Divine was permitted to facilitate extraction, but the entire system needed a redesign. Moreover, those in charge of mining operations were under the supervision of Senators Hoskel and Salo, who represented the family estate.
Jayce approached him to offer comfort. He squeezed his shoulder and traced circles on his back, mistakenly thinking that Viktor had hidden his face in his hands because of childhood memories—the tunnels and mines where he had grown up as a dweller of the fissures. The reality was that inside him, an endless debate was raging over honor, selling out to the Senate, and ignoring the needs of those in distress.
“They want us to take this to the next level, Viktor,” he said, “I want to support those miners, just as I know you want to help them too.”
Finally, Viktor straightened up and retrieved the old blueprints. At the same time, Jayce dragged a stool over to his side to begin the calculations.
Enhance tools, stabilize the Hěax, increase the body’s resistance through crystals, he wrote on a list.
As he filled in guides and redrew diagrams, Viktor couldn’t shake the voice whispering that it was a bad idea and that there was more to it than Jayce realized.
❈ ❈ ❈
It wasn't that he was selfish. Just as Jayce shared the contents of his journal and all his written records, Viktor had done the same. However, there was something bitter about sharing his theories beyond the privacy of his lab.
It felt unnatural and uncomfortable. It was unpleasant to think that the Senate was more deeply involved than anticipated and that they had a tight grip on him.
His response stemmed from a well-known harshness. Viktor sought to safeguard his years of work, the discovery of properties, and the theory regarding living and dead matter. It soon became evident that he would need to find an alternative for the cornerstone of his research. If the notes fell into the wrong hands, or if for any reason they were used for unscrupulous purposes, there would be no rest for his soul, nor any act that could free him from guilt.
He would sink into the bitterest of resentments and curse everyone responsible, even if that meant Jayce.
Viktor could already see Piltover’s public announcement. The promotion of the stable and refined Hěax formula. A miracle cure that provides a solution to a long list of ailments. From fever to infection, joint pain to the treatment of necrosis. They would sell it at exorbitant prices, accessible only to the wealthiest. Not to those most in need.
Not Viktor's people, never his people.
The project, in the most stable and optimized version of Hěax for miners, was on the right track. At least that was the case for the first month. It had been a joy to have Jayce back. His spot-on comments, theories, and clever alternatives helped him break through the mental block that had been frustrating him. It was interesting to consider hypothetical scenarios for the use of tools. They didn’t limit themselves to the mining sector; soon they were talking about sailors, carriages, and builders.
They discussed extending the improvement to every man, regardless of their city or origin.
One night, as Jayce settled into the study’s divan, he mentioned his need to take a break before returning to his work and left Viktor alone.
In that stillness, almost domestic and familiar, a spark of inspiration struck him. Viktor became absorbed in the task and began to write. He worked on the key that could refine the Hěax, and the clue to reversing the death of his plant specimens.
When Jayce opened his eyes, it was already late morning. He said a hurried goodbye, mentioned a meeting with the committee, and promised to return to continue that night. Viktor noticed his absence when he heard Jayce arrive that night carrying something to snack on. Viktor didn’t mention his progress right away for fear that the news would leak out of the lab before he could test it.
No, once it was ready, or at least as far along as he could get it, he would pass the information on to a couple of contacts in the Fissures. Viktor was willing to give a copy to his mentor if doing so would protect his research. However, if he wanted to die in peace, he would have to speak with him, no matter how much he hated him.
Besides, as much as it pained him to admit it, there was no better guardian for such progress than him, whose distaste for Piltover was greater than that of the average Zaunite. It stemmed from the disillusionment and alienation typical of misunderstood minds.
In contrast to Jayce, who, even under warning, might present it to the senate if that would save lives. Given Jayce’s past and his virtuous hero complex, he would do so without any malice. He was a naive and honest man, even if he was exceptionally brilliant.
He lacked both foresight and malice. He saw his presence in the Senate as the bridge to bring them closer to their ultimate goal and their noble ends. It was easy for him to distinguish falsehood and malice when they were expressed so directly, but not in matters of politics; on the contrary, he was a dreamer in a world of men who knew the truth of things.
So Viktor wrote on the last page of the journal that the notes should be destroyed if they were ever at risk of falling into the hands of the Piltover people or the Senate. This was his testament and his last will.
One afternoon, Senator Medarda visited the lab to find Jayce and invite him to the show of the moment. The story of two friends, bound by oaths and mischievous thefts, who dared to defy the forbidden. In their ambition, they sought to abduct the Queen of Hades. Both friends lay among the roots as divine punishment, ending with one of them returned to the world of the living, and the other perishing in the underworld to pay for his hubris.
How ironic the show was!
If he hadn’t been so occupied, he would have burst out laughing.
“Jayce is visiting his mother’s house,” he replied without taking his eyes off the work.
“He’s been busy lately,” she said. Though he was unable to see her, Viktor could hear the jingling of her jewelry and the firmness of her steps. They were not friendly toward one another, but neither were they hostile, for the senator had no reason to waste energy on someone like him. Despite this, the senator was always alert to his presence, and she recognized that Viktor could see through the mask she wore when facing Jayce and his ambiguous intentions.
“Thanks for the information,” she added. “How’s the progress going?”
“I imagine Jayce has kept you in the loop, Senator.”
“Only partially.”
As he turned toward her, Viktor realized she hadn’t moved. Senator Medarda seemed less harsh and less machiavellian, though that spark he recognized so well still burned in her eyes. She was thinking about something, plotting something. It was hard to tell what.
After a long moment, the senator relented and excused.
“Tell Jayce I came.”
Viktor agreed.
He went back to work and carried on like that until evening fell. The old hunch gnawed at his chest, and made the old voice in his head scream a warning.
Perhaps he was just being paranoid, and the senator had never given him any reason to believe she harbored ill will toward him; still, he realized that the research wasn’t safe in the studio. He tucked it inside his disheveled clothes and ventured back to his room.
The senatorial building was large, full of gardens and elevations, platforms, and endless staircases. The journey was not easy, and it caused more pain than expected. In recent months, a dry cough had settled deep in his throat, worsening with humidity and cold, and a dull pain in his chest that made him nauseous when he exerted himself.
He was leaving the pavilion when he heard a ostentatious procession—guards dressed in gold and luxury. They were nothing more than accessories to decorate the hallways. They had no other function than to guard walkways and doors, and at the same time serve as the spokespeople for decisions made behind closed doors.
Viktor avoided them because, although they weren’t hostile, they weren’t exactly friendly either. His closeness to Jayce was the only thing holding them back. And they were careful not to make an enemy of their new senator.
But Viktor couldn’t shake the memories of his youth, when he was bullied and beaten by those on the outskirts of the control station between Zaun and Piltover, and how, more than once, his accent or the way he walked had led people to mistake him for a crook or a slave with no master to claim him.
Perhaps the image they had of him hadn’t changed one bit. An assistant passed from one hand to another. From the chief senator to the senator-in-training, despite Jayce’s fruitless attempts to set the record straight.
“Do you think war will finally break out, just as people have been warning?” one of the men asked in a whisper.
“It’s already happened. Noxus made its intentions loud and clear… and those pests from the pits have been conspiring with them.”
“Ha, why would Noxus want to ally itself with that scum?”
“The Enclave. Its ports. Easy and direct access—can’t you see it?” The man’s tone was rough and gruff, but his face looked young and arrogant.
“Who told you that nonsense?”
A series of mocking laughs followed, gradually dying down.
“The second lieutenant,” the man replied triumphantly. Viktor recognized the lieutenant’s name: Marcus, one of Grayson’s men. “It’s because of the protests. They’re refusing to work and attacking the foremen and guards.”
“Piltover wants weapons,” he whispered. “Shields and soldiers to crush those rebels and the fire of Noxus.”
Viktor felt a jolt; he couldn’t prevent himself from leaning against one of the pillars to keep balance. He gripped his crutch tightly. Despite this, the men heard the faint thud of the handle against the marble and scattered in a hurry.
Feeling terribly insulted, Viktor turned back toward the lab, heavy-hearted and out of breath. He needed an answer—and Jayce’s honesty. After all, he was part of the senate and therefore must have known about it—and allowed it; at the very least, accepting the idea of doing so for the city's safety—and breaking agreements and promises made in the past.
Jayce had promised to enlighten the people, but always with a strict limit: he would not gamble or create anything that could harm others. That included weapons.
Jayce showed up at the studio as the sun was setting. The moon was just peeking over the mountains, beginning its journey. Jayce was in a cheerful mood. Viktor could tell from the sound of his footsteps and the way he was humming a folk song.
“Viktor, why are you sitting in the dark?” The words came out softly, gently, as if speaking to a child taking a nap.
The equipment was cold and unused, and the desk was tidy. Viktor hadn’t made any changes since he’d left that afternoon, determined to keep his discovery safe in his room. And even then, he’d only been able to watch the sun set through the windows until Venus appeared.
“Is everything okay?”
Viktor felt those hands everywhere—on his forehead and shoulders. Jayce looked into his eyes with concern, struggling to understand what was wrong. Viktor wondered what Jayce had seen or sensed in him to warrant such an emotional reaction. Jayce barely let go of him long enough to turn on the lights and dispel the darkness that was consuming them.
Exasperated, Viktor turned away with a touch of bitterness. He was unable to face Jayce. Even if it was a heartbreaking truth, he preferred to remain in that small space of uncertainty where Jayce was both guilty and innocent. For how disappointing it would be to admit his mistake: having trusted someone who, as soon as found in power, sold them both out in favor of war.
“I heard something disturbing, Jayce.” He turned slowly. “Do you know anything about Zaun’s apparent involvement in the conflict with Noxus?”
Jayce’s eyes widened, and he stepped back as if he’d been struck.
“Viktor…,” he stammered awkwardly. Jayce opened and closed his mouth, in a feeble attempt to gather his thoughts.
“Jayce.”
After a moment, Jayce’s shoulders sagged with remorse.
“Yes, I knew something about that. I know there have been tensions with Noxus… but Mel has assured me she’s in negotiations with her mother.”
“And about Zaun? What have you heard?”
“Just rumors, something about an insurrection by a small group… Viktor, I don’t know much about that, I promise.”
Jayce crouched down until he was at Viktor’s eye level and looked him in the face, closing the distance between them. He tried to give his shoulder a squeeze, as he always did whenever worries plagued him and frustration clouded his judgment.
But now that Viktor realized some of the rumors were true, and that Jayce had intentionally kept it from him to protect him—or whatever else he had in mind—there was only one question left to ask:
“Is the latest project we’re working on actually to enhance and forge weapons?”
“What?! No!... It’s not like that, Viktor. It’s for the miners, I swear!”
“Did the Senate ever mention weapons, Jayce?” he tried again.
“They suggested it, just once… but I refused. I still stand by that. I told them they couldn’t force us. I know that’s not the purpose of the Hěax.”
Viktor had had enough for one night. He felt disgusted, fed up with all the filth in the Senate. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help. Right now, Viktor didn’t want to see Jayce, nor did he want to work in that corrupt lab.
Jayce saw that he was ready to leave and tried to approach him, but Viktor waved him away and walked to the door. Viktor stopped in the doorway and sighed wearily, seething with anger inside. He thought it unfair to take all his anger out on Jayce and didn’t want to say anything he’d later regret.
Glancing over his shoulder at Jayce’s figure, dressed in gold and burgundy, he allowed that touch on his lower back and gave in.
“I’m tired, Jayce. I’m going home for tonight.”
“Viktor, I…”
Once again, Jayce didn’t know what to say. He was caught up in his dilemma. At a crossroads between his roles as senator, friend, and scientist. He seemed betrayed by the half-truths. Viktor then decided to give him time until he discovered everything on his own.
Viktor would give him until then to prove to whom he was loyal.
“Senator Medarda was looking for you,” he said.
With that, Viktor left the lab.
❈ ❈ ❈
A couple of days had passed since that encounter.
Jayce couldn't get it out of his head.
He repeated Viktor's words, twisted them, and squeezed every ounce of his attention into them. He heard his voice, the reproach in what was left unsaid, the resentment lurking deep within. The disappointment in Viktor's eyes had robbed him of both sleep and appetite.
He felt as if he had violated something sacred and pure. As if he had been the one to propose those weapons and had broken the vows he had made to the people.
There was a time when it was easier to communicate with Viktor, to clarify things and avoid misunderstandings. But lately, it had become more difficult. Viktor withdrew into himself, no matter how much Jayce reached out, no matter how much Jayce tried to open up first and make it clear that he cared about him and would listen to whatever was bothering him and whatever he had to share.
When they were young, amid starry nights and the glow of the flame that lit them up, they talked about all sorts of things and nothing at all. Dreams for the future, fears, chemistry, and the art of magic among people. Those were days filled with laughter and spiced wine, light lunches, and worldly matters.
How Jayce missed it. From time to time he thought of the study. That long, narrow room, barely big enough for two tables, though they always ended up sharing the same space; and those crooked shelves that threatened to fall off the grayish plaster. The sterile Senate laboratory could never compare to those uneven wooden planks, stained with acids and oils from that same old lamp. He dreamed of the smell of hot metal, dry grass, stained paper, tea and wine rings, dripping pipes, and broken valves.
Jayce had confronted Mel and demanded an explanation. She opened up; seemed sincere in her words. She expressed how sorry she was that the situation had escalated. Even though tensions with her mother were weighing on her, she didn’t seem keen on the idea of deploying military force for an initial strike. Mel even suggested finding Viktor and clarifying everything on behalf of the Senate once Jayce threatened to withhold the Hěax, naval trade routes, and upgrades to excavation equipment if she didn’t reveal the truth.
But Jayce recognized the distance Viktor intentionally maintained from Mel and any member of the Senate. Putting them in that position, even if they had been collaborating for a decade, could increase Viktor’s displeasure.
Jayce tried unsuccessfully to apologize. His partner was slipping through his fingers. Jayce had asked a couple of guards. Most made excuses, denied having seen him, and even seemed embarrassed by the lack of attention paid to those entering the lab. Which was risky, since there was no security whatsoever to protect their work.
A maid with beautiful curls who usually tended to the lilies in the inner garden claimed to have seen Viktor, but he was never there long enough, and Jayce found that odd.
He wondered what could have motivated his partner to undertake such a laborious and exhausting journey only to turn back so soon.
When it came to Viktor, it couldn't have been anything.
The air in the laboratory was thick with the smell of iron and ozone.
He looked sadly at the test specimen abandoned among jars of filings and the model he hadn’t managed to finish; as if doing so without Viktor’s final approval were a betrayal of him. There, the lonely caladium awaited, its colors dull, its stem bent from lack of sap and its leaves blackened. The stem, once upright, leaned toward the table as if seeking support.
Jayce stopped in front of it, cautiously reached out, and lifted the pot. He moved it to the nearest window, where a pale ray of sunlight filtered through, and let it rest there, away from the gloom and the substances that had withered it.
The light bathed the brittle leaves, and Jayce exhaled sharply to rid herself of the sadness that this single withered specimen generated, while just a few steps away all manner of sweet-fruited trees and intensely fragrant roses flourished.
For a moment, as he watched the plant tremble in the sun, he thought about Viktor.
Jayce took one last look around the lab. The high, vaulted ceilings were dim, as most of the natural light struggled to enter and filtered in through the skylight. During his first year there, they had requested a change of lab—even a renovation to install a sunroom—but their request was denied. Over time, they grew accustomed to such secrecy, to the extra burning of lamp oil, until they developed an unquenchable lamp powered by the Hěax.
However, Jayce never stopped thinking that being immersed in such a gloomy environment was a bit sad.