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Gas lamps flicker in the River Fleet Sewers, shadows shifting in the damp air.
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Spirits of the Fleet
Gas lamps flicker in the River Fleet Sewers, shadows shifting in the damp air.
Silas stands before rows of glass vessels, toshing iron in his calloused hand.
Madame Vora descends the stairs, her eyes gleaming with quiet intensity.
Elara’s face presses against the glass, her eyes pleading with Silas.
Silas looks at the vessel, his expression torn between guilt and resolve.
Madame Vora speaks, her voice calm and commanding as she gestures to the vessels.
Silas’s hand trembles slightly as he grips the toshing iron.
Silas smashes the binding circle, glass shattering in a cascade of light.
Spirits rise from the vessels, the Séance Society collapsing in chaos.
Elara’s final whisper echoes as Clara writes in her notebook, Silas stands in peace.
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