Before she could even think twice, Julie found herself seated in a transport pod with Kitturian, watching the city move past as they zoomed towards their destination.

  The city of Paris, once steeped in old world charm, had now been transformed into a marvel of modern technology. The narrow, winding streets had been replaced by wide, straight boulevards of polished stone, and the old limestone buildings now stood in the shadows of towers that curved and twisted in patterns that seemed otherworldly, stretching high into the sky.

  The gleaming facades parted here and there to reveal weathered stone archways and wooden doors that still opened onto cobbled courtyards. The Eiffel Tower, now enhanced with glowing lines of neon, still stood proudly in the distance.

  The pod came to a halt in a narrow street lined with old, worn buildings. Among them stood a few discreet establishments - a rundown bar, a second-hand store, a mechanic’s shop. The street ended at a workshop with peeling blue paint and a door askew, a hammer’s faint rhythm filtering out.

  Julie’s steps faltered at the doorway, but she caught herself and moved in after Kitturian.

  “Your nervousness is painful to watch,” Kitturian said. “Act like you know what you’re doing. People are too stupid to notice the difference.”

  The workshop was a jumble of tools and materials, every surface buried under tools and scraps of metal. The air carried a faint tang of oil, and the dim light from a single bulb did little to push back the gloom.

  The only person present was a greyish-blue Zylari man hunched over a workbench, completely absorbed in his craft. His face was unremarkable except for eyes so pale they seemed almost colorless, set deep under brows that had gone white while his hair stayed black. A magnifying lens dangled from his left eye, marking him as a craftsman.

  “Torian, the forger,” Kitturian said. “Of course. Still practicing your craft? I suppose some things really are timeless.”

  A glance was all it took for the corners of Torian’s mouth to droop, as if the man before him were a second helping of a dish he had not fancied the first time.

  “Kitturian,” he said.

  “I need to know about a forgery. Specifically, one of yours,” Kitturian said.

  “Can’t say I’ve been forging anything illegal lately. Trying to turn over a new leaf and all that.”

  “Did I say illegal? No, only forgery. Your forgery, in fact. No need to embellish.”

  “Look, I craft a lot of things. How am I to know which one you’re on about?”

  Kitturian placed the Star on the counter. The sight seemed to catch Torian in the middle of a breath.

  “Focus. Look at it closely,” Kitturian said. “Now, does it jog your memory? Who requested it?”

  “Can’t say I recall. And even if I did, client confidentiality and all.”

  “Oh, but you do remember. A piece like that? Singular, demanding, and no doubt a personal triumph. You wouldn’t forget it, even if you tried.”

  “Even if I did. You said it yourself, nothing illegal. I’m afraid I have nothing to tell you, so quit wasting my time.”

  “I chose my words precisely. I never said it was illegal, but then again, I never said it was legal either.”

  “Alright, now I’m lost,” Torian said.

  “To simplify for you: you’re implicated as an accomplice in the theft. Clear enough?”

  “Strength of evidence?”

  “Weak, for now,” Kitturian said. “But your testimony could make all the difference—especially if you’ve nothing to hide. Cooperation tends to favor the innocent.”

  Torian’s expression did not shift much, but there was a telltale stillness to his posture, the kind that spoke of calculations being made.

  “Fine,” he said finally. “A man came to me a few weeks ago with detailed sketches and pictures of some heirloom. He wanted a replica to be made. He couldn’t pay me in full, but he promised me a handsome payout soon. Didn’t ask too many questions. Times are hard.”

  “Who was this man?” Kitturian pressed on.

  “Can’t say I know his real name. Lanky build, average height, hair slicked back. Came from a well-to-do background, I’d say.”

  Julie, who had remained quiet until that moment, felt a tingling sensation in her chest - a bubbling excitement waiting to burst out.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Zylas!” she exclaimed.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Torian said.

  “That’s the name of the man you were dealing with,” Kitturrian said. “And he’s left a trail of questions begging for answers.”

  “Nothing illegal, right? I’m not in trouble?”

  “That’s for the facts to decide, not me,” Kitturian said. “So far, you’re safe. Come Julie, time to have a chat with our lanky, slick-haired friend.”

  §

  Back at the Nerivana estate, Zylas was nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, Kitturian saw no reason not to wait for his return in the man’s own quarters. Julie had her doubts, but Kitturian argued that a sudden shock often pried open the tightest lips. And so, they sat in Zylas’ main living area.

  “While we’re waiting, let’s be productive,” Kitturian said. “Start with your activities that morning—every detail.”

  “Well, let’s see,” Julie began. “I woke up a little late, threw on my uniform, headed over to Mrs. Lyrana’s, cleaned things up, and then—”

  “Did you observe anything unusual in Mrs. Lyrana’s living space?”

  “Um, I don’t believe so.”

  “Sharper focus, please,” Kitturian said. “Don’t simply go through the motions, SEE. Your memory is like a camera. Snap a clear picture, not just blurred snapshots.”

  It all sounded confusing. But the thought of Rose, waiting and depending on her, brought a clarity that no amount of reasoning could achieve.

  “Okay, okay,” Julie said. “Focus mode, engage! Let’s do this.”

  And focus she did, sifting through her memories for any overlooked details, big or small. At first she struggled, her mind drawing a blank, but as she dug deeper, a tiny detail floated to the surface - easy to miss, but maybe significant.

  “Wait,” she said. “Mrs. Lyrana’s pet, Breechy—he wasn’t with her that morning like he always is. I didn’t see him anywhere near her.”

  “See? There’s always something to find if you look closer.”

  “Okay, sure, but how does that connect to anything?”

  “Patience. One detail leads to another—it’s all connected, you’ll see.”

  In the quiet that followed, Julie turned Kitturian’s words over in her mind. But no matter how she looked at it, the pieces refused to fit together in any sensible way.

  And so, time ticked by. An hour or so later, the door flung open, and in breezed Zylas.

  If their intention had been to astonish him into another dimension, it worked wonders. Zylas practically tumbled backwards in sheer shock at the unexpected sight of them. His brain seemed to short circuit for a moment before it caught up.

  “What in blazes?!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing in my private quarters? And more importantly, how did you even manage to get in here?!”

  “I could explain, but why waste time?” Kitturian said. “What matters are the answers you have and the questions I’m about to ask.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, sir. You are trespassing in MY personal space without permission. This is unacceptable and there will be consequences.”

  “Noted. Now, let me advise you: tread carefully. I wouldn’t want the consequences to catch you unprepared.”

  “Is that a threat, sir?”

  “Hardly a threat—merely an observation. Now, if we’re done with the dramatics, let’s get to the point.”

  With that, Kitturian produced the Star from his pocket and held it out. Zylas’ earlier reaction was mere child’s play compared to the utter surprise and disbelief that now twisted his features. His eyes bulged out of his head as he stared at the Star, then back up at Kitturian, then back at the Star again.

  “Y-you’ve been snooping in my…in my…” Zylas stammered.

  “Snooping? No, more like uncovering. And what we’ve uncovered is very intriguing,” Kitturian said. “How about shedding some light on it? Or shall we take our findings to Madam Nerivana?”

  Zylas fell silent for a moment, the weight of the words settling visibly over his head before he let out a slow, resigned sigh.

  “Fine then,” he said. “I confess, it is a fake Star. A mere replica. There, you have your answer. So if you were hoping to pin the theft on me, your plan has failed.”

  “A replica was clear from the start. I’m not that easily fooled,” Kitturian said. “The real question is, what was your game in making a counterfeit Star?”

  “Game? I have no game.”

  “Allow me to clarify. Your plan was to create a forgery, steal the authentic Star, and leave the replica in its place. Predictable, really.”

  “Absurd!” Zylas scoffed.

  “Ah, but we also found this,” Kitturian said, holding up the skeleton key. “This little device leaves a calling card wherever it goes—digital breadcrumbs, if you will. A quick look at the logs will tell us exactly where it’s been playing.”

  For a long moment, Zylas said nothing, his hands clenched at his sides. Then his shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him all at once.

  “Fine, fine, you win,” he said. “Yes, I had a plan to steal the Star and switch it with the fake. But it would have been a temporary fix. Just to borrow some extra credit. I was planning on purchasing it back later and doing the old switcheroo again. Nothing permanent, you see.”

  “You thief!” Julie said. “And you let Rose take all the blame.”

  “Silence!” Zylas snapped. “I hadn’t even finished explaining. I did not, in fact, steal the Star. I was about to, yes. I snuck into Aunt Nerivana’s study, but the Star was not there. It had already been taken. Someone else beat me to it.”

  “Ha! That’s a likely story,” Julie said.

  “He’s telling the truth,” Kitturian said. “If he were our thief, he’d have made the switch with this counterfeit. Obviously, he never had the chance.”

  “Exactly,” Zylas said, regaining some of his composure. “My intentions may have been questionable, but I am innocent of this crime. I must have barely missed the real thief in the act.”

  This sudden turn of events left Julie feeling drained and defeated. She had been so confident, so certain of their imminent success. And then, this unexpected turn of events. The rug had been pulled out from under her, leaving her bewildered and unsure of how to proceed.

  “Of course, I trust this information will stay between us,” Zylas asked.

  “Your secret is safe,” Kitturian said. “But as for the counterfeit and the skeleton key, consider them part of my ‘lost and found’ now. You won’t be needing them.”