Chapter 1
San sat comfortably in the open white room with one single chair and a painting, blank walls except for the back wall where the infamous mural named Death and Light when translated from Armenian. Heart harrowing beauty made his stomach churn and mind scramble over old memories and wounds. Those hands that painted this authentically by pencil and brush must have taken a few bottles of alcohol to depict the demise of an estimated two billion people through the eyes of an old Armenian artist who was never named. Unmarked graves and burials in the last frame depicted his fate, along with that of countless others, soldiers, fathers, mothers and children alike. From the left a girl who threw herself in front of a train at full speed. A young man who screamed at her and the pale shock of the driver howling his lungs at her. To the right by a metre was the sky changed, the silhouettes of people pointing up in delight and fright as the stars grew closer and altered to form new horoscopes. Worst and best of all, the new planetoid in the sky, emerald green and as plain as toy sphere for a three-year-old. Boreal, ever since then the rate of—
“Mister Locke, your superior officer orders you to see him for your appointment.”
He turned his head to see another museum guide this time dressed more formally in a casual dress brown to match her eyes and dark hair rolling down her shoulders.
“Irine is on holiday. Is this a prank?” It took him time to rise from his seat.
“Fuscian Niji is here to see you, sir.” She took a small step back and deepened her curtsy.
Niji? “Where is he?”
“He waits for you outside, he says this room is cursed by his gods.” She edged toward the door.
San nodded, “You should call next time, I left my number with the administrator.”
“I’m sorry it would be rude.” The Japanese in her accent slipped out as she hurried along, “Please enjoy the rest of your stay at Catharsis Museum, sir, and thank you for your service in Southern Infrica.”
“How did you know?” Locke stole a final glance at the piece.
“The Blue Sutherland Lily you carry, I saw it when you walked in.”
“Good eye, you’re more than you think you are. What’s your name?”
“Kistle Sangraila.” She curtsied again, “I am from Yong under the Moonglaive.”
San blinked, “Willingly?”
“My father made a lot of… mistakes.”
Locke pulled out his wallet and flicked her a British Austral, “What you do with that will decide how you live.”
She fumbled to stop the thing from bouncing around with her terrible catch, “I cannot.”
“The rich never miss an opportunity, out of pride, most people would refuse this. Decide, it’s only one coin.”
“But why?”
“That’s personal.” He waved her away.
“Thank you, Locke.” She curtsied deeper again and hopped away.
San pulled up his phone to see no flashing light for notifications, put the thing away and sauntered to the door, he came face to face with the slim man who proudly hailed from middle New Asia.
“Detective Locke now to be Quiet Eye, eyes of Metis you have there.” He held out his hand.
Locke shook with a full grip, “Overseer Niji, I’ve been approved then.”
“Fastest approval we’ve ever had, no doubt with your background, son.” Fuscian gestured for him to lead on down the dim corridor, “I hear you’re a coffee aesthete, pick one for a non-drinker like me.” He raised his phone to signal he’d pay.
San smirked at that grip on the back of his skull; he didn’t just come to congratulate him on his approval, “Aye, sir.”
They cruised down the gallery, taking time to admire the new arts brought in available for purchase behind Spidersilke glass all with trip guards on that’ll slice your fingertips off if you’re silly enough to take these ten bag worth pieces. A depiction of Amaterasu with the green planetoid, Boreal or Logos Finis.
“Tell me about this piece.” Niji had stopped beside an image of Isis stirring a pot of magic, inside was a swirl of emerald green and decorated with stars.
“That’s Boreal and the stars that came with it, Isis is the most powerful deity though most won’t admit it. There are stories in what we know of the Borealcentrists where Isis and Amaterasu conferred to create the planetoid.”
“But why? It just gave us power and would complicate things for us.” Niji folded his arms.
“Magic encourages our beliefs, remember the age before this one?”
“We ain’t that diff.”
“But different, we value a new level of artistry that the digressive era lost.” Locke said with a satisfied smile, “Now men like you and I who have hardly any talent have more art than ever to spin around and look at.”
“Our talents are better used elsewhere.” Niji chuckled, “Our fourth Quiet Eye, that is talent.”
Locke shook his head, “Hard work and training, sir.”
“Both.”
“Fair,” Locke clicked his index knuckle, “The coffee?”
“Yes,” Niji spun on his heel and strode ahead, Locke followed, reminding himself not to march.
