It appeared in the city square one morning, black and twisted and bold as brass. It may have been brass, come to that. Some excuse for public art, creeping up itself into the bright June sun.
Neither flat and shimmering like the clean glass buildings surrounding it, nor pluckily organic like the trees that greenly defy the concrete, its curious neurons of questing metal strangle their way upward. Toward what?
Well it certainly looks suspicious. Countless people pass by it, day in and day out, and they don’t seem to notice. But to those who #followthesigns, this is just another sign of the mystical metastases, the cancerous fingers that keep pushing out of the weird and into the ordinary world, grabbing everything they can.
There are flows to this sort of thing, cycles of power. Tides that rise and fall in influence over time, a natural, gradual way of things. The city is breathing. But lately it’s out of hand. Magic is bursting out everywhere. The university can barely keep up with the mage population; some newly awakened ones are stumbling toward madness, the alphabet blazing through their minds unfettered. Adric at the Astoria is handing out freebies to the baby vampires who keep stumbling to his bar, and blood alchemy doesn’t come cheap, you know. The Farm is about overrun with fresh puppies, wriggling in and out of their new skins and driving poor Eszti round the bend.
And what are we to make of these other phenomena, these weird signs and portents that infect our city squares and alleyways and mailboxes and lampposts? It feels like it’s all spiraling, filling our world so fast there won’t be room for mundanes anymore. Surely, surely, they’ll begin to notice – if they’re not all infected first.
Anyway. Now you know. You’re a part of this, now. Things have been looking darker and darker of late, but there are also more and more of us, people who can see, who’ve been touched by power.
Susurrus: Season of Tides is coming in August. Sign up at the link above to become a part of it in beta.