As the key neared completion, the streets above the workshop became a playground for shadows that moved against the flickering gaslight. Leo, the apprentice, disappeared one rainy Tuesday, leaving behind only a small silver ring and a note written in a panicked hand. Arthur searched the labyrinthine alleys of Spitalfields, finding symbols carved into the brickwork that matched the engravings on the serpent key. He realized that the mysterious woman was actually Lady Isabella, a noblewoman whose family had been dead for over a hundred years. She wasn’t looking for a treasure of gold, but for a way to reclaim the life that had been stolen by a rival family. Arthur found himself followed by men in tall hats and long coats, members of a secret society dedicated to keeping the city’s secrets. They cornered him in a dead-end street near the docks, their eyes reflecting the same pale blue fire he had seen in his forge. He escaped by using a small silver flash-powder he had developed, disappearing into the thick, yellow fog that choked the London night. The key was now whispering directly into his mind, showing him a map of a cathedral that existed only in the spirit world. He returned to his workshop to find it ransacked, his tools broken and his precious silver supplies scattered across the dirty floor. But the serpent key was gone, and in its place sat Leo, his eyes wide with a terrifying knowledge he couldn’t put into words. The boy pointed toward the old well in the center of the district, a place rumored to be a gateway to the London Below. Arthur understood that the final stage of the forge required a sacrifice that he wasn’t yet prepared to make for any amount of silver. He grabbed his heavy leather coat and a lantern, heading toward the well as the clock struck thirteen in a nearby tower. The shadows were no longer following him; they were waiting for him to arrive at the place where the silver met the stone.
