West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St George, Skirrid Inn
3 November 1898, 10:08 p.m.

Thanks to Dr. Archer's curt manner and Kyle's dull headache, as well as the exhaustion of the journey, they had not stayed long in the parlor with the constable. After drinks and a little evening fortification in the form of spicy-smelling herb bread and a platter of sausage and cheese, they had therefore finally followed Elly upstairs.

The rooms they were given were... nice. Nice in the sense that neither Kyle nor Dr. Archer expected rooms like in the Savoy Hotel. However, they had hoped for a few more amenities than were offered in one of the rat holes on the docks. The rooms fulfilled this expectation, but one could not even begin to speak of comfort. The small rooms were sparsely furnished and old-fashioned. Rural, Dr. Archer would have remarked. Rustic, Kyle would have commented.

About half an hour after Elly had said goodbye, there was a knock on Dr. Archer's door and Kyle stood at the wooden door, already bleached by many years. In his hand, he carried the smaller briefcase that had been his special concern during the trip. The younger Seeker had discarded the heavy woolen coat and his walking stick, otherwise, he was still smartly and uncomfortably dressed as before. Dr. Archer, on the other hand, had shed both his jacket and waistcoat and received the other Seeker casually in his shirt. He let Kyle enter, then closed the door behind him. Kyle had stopped behind it for a moment and was looking at the doctor's room.

The room, just like his, had only one window facing the backyard. There had either been no time to clean it properly, or it had been deemed adequate as it was. A grey breath of dust floated in the little light from the oil lamp that fell on the floorboards. The curtains were thick and smelled as heavy with dried lavender as the rest of the room. On the floor was a worn carpet whose colors had almost completely faded. Threads were already coming loose from the fabric and scattering with little woolly mice in the corners. A bed with a tiny bedside table stood against one wall, a washstand with a bowl, and a low chair in another. A small dresser with an already partially blinded mirror adorned the other side of the room, right next to a small stove with a fire crackling softly in its maw. One looked in vain for a wardrobe or any other amenities such as further seating. In his room, Kyle had meanwhile opened the window to let in some night air, hoping the stale smell there would give way.

After the door slammed shut, the doctor approached him. "Has something happened?" For lack of better options, he gestured him to the only chair that stood next to the washstand. Kyle shook his head in denial and a few strands of dark hair fell over his eyes. 

"No, not that. The find in the woods is just driving me crazy." His head throbbed. A throbbing stab that kept pressing behind his eyes and against the wall of his skull from the inside. He longed for sleep and rest. Ever since he was very young, he lay awake all night when something was bothering him. No matter how much he fretted about it, in the end, his thoughts kept searching and searching for solutions. Sometimes even in the restless dreams that usually followed such evenings. "We don't know what we are dealing with here. If you don't find any disease or other cause of death on the bird, maybe it's dark magic."

The blue eyes clung to the dresser with the mirror that Dr. Archer had cleared. His doctor's bag stood next to it, revealing all sorts of medical paraphernalia. A leather folder had been placed on the surface and unrolled. In it gleamed various silver tools, scalpels, and smaller forceps. The bird lay on the spread cloth as if on a deathbed.

"I was just about to start the examination," Dr. Archer explained as if it could be overlooked.

"Should you find nothing wrong with the bird, it would be advisable for me to examine it afterward as well," Kyle explained, meeting the doctor's eyes. He didn't like the way he was looking at him. He couldn't tell if Dr. Archer was looking at him because he was genuinely interested or if he thought his idea was absolute humbug. Dr. Archer, however, was a member of the Order. That magic existed was a fact. But that did not mean that the doctor approved of its use. So was it skepticism, reluctance, or curiosity that caused his cool demeanor? Kyle shifted his weight from one leg to the other, then reached for the chair.

"Could you cover the mirror?" he asked abruptly, while Dr. Archer had already approached the dresser. Astonished, the doctor turned his head.

"The mirror?" he asked, full of incomprehension, looking questioningly at his reflection on the surface for a moment as if something might have escaped him. "Why?"

Kyle, without much hesitation, pointed like an accuser at the object in question."Reflective surfaces offer a multitude of uses in the Arcane Arts, not to mention their rootedness in all manner of myths and cultures. For example, they are gateways that can be used in both directions. One can observe them or step through them. According to some assumptions, a mirror can even be used as a soul trap. I could tell you about different theories and practices, spells I have even mastered myself, using mirrors as a basis," his voice took on a dark tone. As each word continued, he scowled more darkly at the reflective object that was becoming more commonplace to households. "Until we know if we might be dealing with something supernatural, I want to make sure that nothing and no one can watch us." he declared firmly. He laid out the facts as stringently as if he had had to explain them hundreds of times before.

Dr. Archer did not need to know that his concerns had another reason. His explanations seemed to have been convincing enough. That, or the doctor had no interest in discussing it with him further. After looking around the room, he finally chose his coat and threw it over the mirror. Finally, a dark veil of heavy woolen fabric fell over the shimmering silver.

Only now did Kyle come close enough to sit down diagonally next to the dresser. Meanwhile, the doctor rolled up his sleeves and then reached into the pocket of his coat. He pulled out a small flask from which he took a sip and then spread some of the strong-smelling liquid on his hands. Only then did he reach for the first scalpel from his leather-bound arsenal. There was little resistance to the blade, which Dr. Archer applied carefully, for the bird was small and anything but the brute force was necessary. The edge slid through the soft flesh, fine sinew, and muscle as through paper. He made several cuts, then put the scalpel aside. A soft crunching and cracking sound could be heard as he cracked open the sternum to fold the two curved arches outwards and expose the inside of the animal. A concentrated expression marked his features as he looked at the image more closely.

"Well?" Kyle could hardly contain his curiosity. Was it a disease that had taken all the animals? Was it, in the end, perhaps a new plague that could have spread to humans?

"The innards are not unusually discolored, and the bone structure of the neck and spine is also intact," Dr. Archer explained, "He doesn't seem to have been dead long. The decomposition process has not yet begun. However, since what little blood there is in birds coagulates quickly, it's hard to say exactly how long. I'd guess a few hours at most, though."

Kyle felt an icy chill run down his spine and he slid slightly to one side in the chair. He wasn't keen on seeing an animal's guts and entrails spread out on the dresser, yet the curiosity inside him wouldn't let him go. "That means he might have died just before I found him?" he asked the question that immediately popped into his head. Dr. Archer was focused, so he just nodded and didn't look to the side. He cut something out of the bird, placed it beside him, and cut the fleshy sac apart. Then he exhaled for the moment.

"I was afraid of tuberculosis." he explained, "But it's not that. No signs, at least not on the liver or lungs. Neither deposits nor other damage..." he murmured. As if he wanted to make everything a little easier for his colleague to understand or to reassure him. However, this did not work. There was still a worrying pallor around Kyle's nose. Undeterred, Dr. Archer continued."The bowel looks unremarkable. Not inflamed or otherwise swollen. Kidney, liver... No signs of disease whatsoever. No pests like mites or worms. Other than that..." a soft cracking sound, no louder than those from the fireplace was heard, as he had broken one of the thin ribs to more easily reach deeper-seated organs. "No discoloration or other signs of infection." he continued. But then the wrinkles on his forehead deepened. He leaned closer, soft smacking sounded and he emitted a sound of wonder.

"That's weird," he remarked all at once and Kyle immediately straightened up and peered at the table. Around the small body lay organs partially taken out and laid to one side. As if a suitcase had been unpacked and the contents neatly sorted.

"What's weird?!" echoed Kyle, trying to suppress a hint of disgust.

The doctor took a larger pair of tweezers from his repertoire and carefully felt inside what looked like the wings of a butterfly. He carefully took out what looked like a small reddish lump of muscular flesh.

He looked at it more closely and Kyle was about to rise when Dr. Archer turned his gaze to him again. "I found the cause of death." he then said, so full of scientific coolness that Kyle wasn't sure whether he should be worried about his own life or not. This stupid bird was straining his nerves.

"Then don't keep me in suspense," he said impatiently and a little more sharply. There was a soft clang as the doctor put the scalpel aside.

"The heart is ruptured."

Kyle stared at the doctor for a moment with a blank expression of absolute incomprehension. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I say." the doctor opined, pointing to the bird's distant heart. The solid fibers of the heart muscles were torn as if someone had taken it in their hands and pulled it in opposite directions. Tattered fibers lent something bizarre to the sight.

"I can't think of any medical cause for this," Dr. Archer said, "I'm not a veterinarian," he then added absolutely seriously, "but I've never heard of or seen anything like it. Neither is a human being nor an animal. I don't have any specialist literature or the opportunity to ask colleagues.... but... "

Kyle understood what he was trying to tell him. "We can assume that it has nothing to do with a disease or a natural cause. Especially if we include the other cadavers with the same signs." Kyle, therefore, finished the other Seeker's sentence. Kyle felt his own heart beating more restlessly now. He was relieved, of course, that it didn't seem to be a disease, but the realization of a supernatural cause, again, raised more questions than it answered. The throbbing still sat behind his temples, drumming against them. That was another reason why he squinted his eyes and rubbed his nose bone with his index and middle fingers.

"There are spells that could kill a flock of birds." he finally said thoughtfully and slowly opened his eyes again. "But these spells would most certainly affect the body as well. At the very least, tear out feathers or injure other organs." Absorbed in spinning thoughts, he furtively scratched his cheek.

"If I could examine several of the deceased animals, it would be easy to determine if it was just this bird. But for that, I would have to go back to the spot." The doctor opened the flask again and took a deep swig. He realized that this was not readily possible, for the coachman had promptly set off again. "The only thing I could use to explain such a rupture would be that something had increased the pulse so exorbitantly that the heart could not withstand the pressure."

"What would cause a bird to become so excited and frightened that its heart would burst as a result?" asked Kyle in an astonished and irritated voice.

"What's more, it should have had the same effect on all the other animals. They were all physically unharmed. So it's safe to assume that we would find the same thing in them. In the case of a hare, such a cardiac arrest would be quite understandable. In isolated cases of a bird, perhaps so too. But it didn't just stop. It snapped under the strain. This cause in such a mass of animals of different sizes and species is improbable and outlandish. If we were not looking for the supernatural, I would not even consider such a preposterous theory. A heart doesn't break that easily!" Dr. Archer added. Only then did he answer the previous question by shaking his head more clearly in response. "Well... I don't know what could have caused them such turmoil. Animals on the ground as well as in the air, to boot."

Both of them liked to think of the many dead ravens at that moment. The image of them lying in the treetops, branches, and on the ground. It suggested only one thing. "We must assume it was not a natural cause."

Silence descended on the two searchers. It took its time, floating down like a feather and yet weighing more than a garment of iron. It took several long heartbeats before Kyle finally brushed his fingers through the black waves of his hair. His gaze latched onto the remains of the bird on the dresser.

"I guess it's my turn now."