Angella's eyes snapped open, wide and disoriented. The world around her was a cacophony of sound – a visceral, earth-shaking boom that rattled the very foundations of the building, followed by a rapid succession of sharp, metallic bangs. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drum against the sudden, violent assault on her senses.

 

She scrambled upright from the uncomfortable, high-backed chair where she must have dozed off. The air was thick with an acrid, sickly-sweet tang, a scent she now recognized with a chilling certainty from the crime scene. Sparks flew from a workbench across the well-equipped laboratory, illuminating the figure of Lytis, who stood remarkably calm amidst the chaos.

He quickly adjusted a dial on a complex array of machinery, and the banging subsided, though a faint, high-pitched whirring replaced it. Lytis turned to her, his light orange-red hair slightly disheveled, a smudge of grease on his cheek.

"Apologies, Ms. Angella," he said, his voice as calm as ever, though a faint tremor ran through his long fingers. "A minor miscalculation. This 'Fear' substance... it's more volatile than I anticipated." He gestured to a glowing readout on a nearby console, his eyes gleaming with a strange excitement. "But," he added, "it confirms my suspicions. This isn't just a byproduct. It's a concentrated, raw form of something truly extraordinary."

Angella stared at him, her mind still trying to catch up. The events of the previous day – the horrifying crime scene, the revelation of the Murder Wall, the unsettling trip to the black market – flooded back. She was in Lytis's labyrinthine base, and he was experimenting with the very essence of terror.

Lytis immediately plunged back into his work, muttering to himself as he adjusted wires and scrutinized readouts. The machine, a complex array of glass tubes, whirring gears, and glowing conduits, hummed erratically, occasionally spitting out small, controlled bursts of the black substance. He seemed to be struggling, his calm demeanor occasionally breaking with a frustrated sigh or a sharp tap on a component.

"It's not stabilizing," he murmured, more to the machine than to Angella. "The energy signature is... elusive. It resists containment."

 

 

Angella, feeling useless and overwhelmed by the technical jargon, wandered towards a nearby shelf crammed with books. Her eyes, accustomed to the familiar sight of data-slates, spotted something different: a physical book, its cover worn and its pages yellowed. It looked ancient, a relic from a time before digital omnipresence. Curious, she reached for it.

"Ah, you found that," Lytis said, without looking up from his struggling machine. "A rather... interesting acquisition. Picked it up from Elias's shop, actually. He keeps some fascinating relics."

Angella's eyes widened. "Elias? This is from 'Pages of Yore'?" She carefully opened the book. The title, faded but still legible, read: The Whispers of the Forgotten. It was clearly an old, banned text.

"Indeed," Lytis confirmed, still wrestling with a stubborn conduit. "It's an old conspiracy theory, mostly. Pre-Holian, or at least from a time when the Holian narrative wasn't so... singular. Claims there was another god, before the Three. A Weaver of Fates, apparently." He scoffed lightly. "Nonsense, of course. But it has a peculiar chapter on 'Fear.' Describes it as a primal energy, a raw force. Thought it might offer some... historical context for this substance."

 

Angella, drawn by the forbidden nature of the book and the mention of "Fear," began to read. The language was archaic, the concepts strange, but as she turned the pages, a peculiar pattern began to emerge. The text spoke of energies, of resonance, of the subtle interplay between emotion and the fabric of reality. It described how certain energies, when not properly channeled, could destabilize even the most robust systems.

She glanced at Lytis, still frowning at his machine. He was trying to force the energy, to contain it with brute force. But the book... the book hinted at a more delicate balance, a resonance that needed to be matched, not simply suppressed. It spoke of a specific frequency, a counter-vibration needed to harmonize with the raw output of fear.

 

Her gaze flickered from the book to the machine, then back to the glowing readouts. Lytis had set the primary energy conduit to a high, constant output. But the book suggested that the initial surge of fear, its raw, chaotic nature, needed a gentler introduction, a brief, resonant pulse before the sustained containment. It was like trying to catch a wild current with a solid wall instead of a flexible net.

"Lytis," Angella said, her voice quiet but firm, a newfound certainty in her tone. He didn't hear her over the whirring. "Lytis!" she repeated, louder this time.

He finally looked up, annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Yes, Ms. Angella? I'm a bit preoccupied."

"The frequency," she said, pointing to a specific dial on his console. "It's wrong. The book... it talks about a resonance. A brief, initial pulse, then the sustained containment. You're trying to force it."

Lytis stared at her, then at the dial, then back at the book in her hands. His calm demeanor wavered, replaced by a flicker of surprise, then a dawning realization. He quickly adjusted the dial, making a subtle change to the machine's initial energy output, mimicking the "brief pulse" Angella described.

The machine's erratic hum immediately smoothed out, the whirring becoming a steady, almost melodic purr. The black substance, which had been spitting out in unstable bursts, now flowed smoothly into a containment chamber, glowing with a subdued, ominous light.

Lytis looked from the perfectly functioning machine to Angella, a rare, genuine expression of astonishment on his face. "How did you...?" he began, then shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. "Remarkable, Ms. Angella. Absolutely remarkable."

 

Angella, feeling a strange mix of pride and unease, turned back to the book. As she did, a loose page fluttered from between the worn binding and drifted to the floor. She picked it up. The page was blank, ripped cleanly from the book. A crucial section was missing, she realized, a gap in the ancient text. It was clear that there was more to be done before the "Fear" could be truly understood or utilized. The missing page, she instinctively knew, held the key to what could be done with the fear itself, and why someone would want to collect such a horrifying substance.

"A missing page," Angella murmured, tracing the jagged tear with her finger. "It just... ends. It doesn't say what the fear can do, or why anyone would want to collect it."

Lytis, now fully focused, stepped closer, examining the torn edge of the page. His calm demeanor returned, but a new intensity entered his eyes. "Indeed. A rather convenient omission, wouldn't you say? Someone clearly didn't want this information to be known." He tapped a finger against his chin, a thoughtful gesture. "Elias mentioned he acquired this book from a private collection. It's possible he keeps records of who borrows his more... esoteric titles."

He turned to Angella, a glint of purpose in his gaze. "We need to go back to 'Pages of Yore.' If we can find out who had this book before Elias, we might find our missing page. And with it, the answers we need."