Seiren couldn't believe her eyes.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" She thrust a hand at her research laboratory. It was in complete shambles. Her paperwork and books were all upended, scattered everywhere and smeared with hand- and footprints of ink. The bars where Seven-One-Three sat behind only yesterday were bent out of shape, the middle forced open in a circle. A single human footprint was left imprinted in the congealed, blackened blood inside.

On the far side, thankfully not the side overlooking the hospital grounds, the window was smashed into pieces. Spots of blood mixed with shards of glass.

"How the hell did they escape? How? Tell me!" She grabbed one of the guards by his collar and yanked him to her. Her heart was about to leap out of her chest. Adrenaline tore through her body, leaving her hot and cold at once. How did a specimen escape? And into busy Bicknor, no less. "This place is meant to be the most bloody secure place in the east!"

"We always have a guard posted outside, Mage Nithercott," one of them stammered. His face was equally pale when the implication of the scene hit him. "I—I did hand over to the night guard and he was here all night. He must have fallen asleep."

"Fallen asleep." Seiren ran a hand through her hair in disbelief, her tunic sticking to her chest and back. "Fallen. Asleep. On guard. Guarding a runically-altered human being with superhuman healing and no functioning cognitive ability. Seven-One-Three could be on a killing spree now and we're just sitting here like pansies."

Her mind leapt back to the moment when the rune completed on Seven-One-Three. Unlike the previous thirteen experiments, there had been something behind the eyes. He acknowledged her as a living creature on the other side of the bars. Those intelligent eyes seemed to understand his predicament. He hadn't struggled. The long gash in his chest had taken several minutes before the bleeding stemmed and healing began. Reducing the healing potential of the rune also reduced the accompanying frenzy.

Seiren stared out of the window. A mutated inmate with a relatively intact cognition. If he was seen, or worse, if he managed to communicate what Seiren did, there would be an uproar. She'd signed a contract of silence when her proposal was first accepted. Her probationary registration could very well be revoked if the council got wind people knew of her permitted but still illicit activities.

Where could he be?

Maybe he's left Bicknor, said Madeleine unhelpfully. Seiren sighed. Her sister had been infuriating recently, ever since Seiren had ignored her protests and arguments for the inmates' rights. Not for the first time that day, Seiren was tempted to rip the necklace off again to give her some literal peace of mind. She busied with pinching her paper runes instead. It would have been helpful if Madeleine could help spot the escapee, but she knew her sister was far too against everything in the recent few weeks to participate. As if to prove her point, Madeleine shifted in Seiren's mind until it felt as though her back faced Seiren.

Seiren's tracker rune abilities were somewhat lacking; King's never taught them that and Seiren had to read up on it in her free time. The theory was simple: a simple sample from the target – blood from the cage would suffice – and a continuous violet rune could detect where the target had been. Seiren had never used it in action, though. A more advanced version of that rune sat in the Council of Mages, monitoring every mage's moves via their violet tattoos.

She swept the mess off her table, ignoring the rustle of ripped paper and splintering of glass as they hit the marble ground. She brought out a new sheet of paper and sketched the double circle, adding six circle locks to contain the energy, and drew the standard tracer rune of a six-pointed star with two sets of three overlapping triangles

Scooping up a drop of congealed blood from the floor of the cage, she let it splat into the centre of her rune and snapped her fingers. It glowed violet and sat still for almost a whole minute. Seiren's heart palpitated. With every second, her specimen escaped further. Her registration might be over now and she wouldn't even know yet.

The rune seeped into the ground and a violet glow trailed from the table and engulfed the centre of the cage. He was there – but they all knew that. It then flowed across the floor, shooting in erratic directions: that must indicate his panicked rampage. Seiren wanted to strangle the night guard. Given the state of her laboratory and the uncontrolled way the specimen shot about, how on earth could he have slept through all of it? She'd rip him a new one were he not already fired on the spot. The colour disappeared out of the window. Seiren sprinted to the hole in the wall and hopped out, landing on the pile of rubble, and skidded down. The guards gave a shout of alarm and chased after her.

The tracking continued to meander down the streets of Benover. Seven-One-Three took to the quieter areas, thankfully; perhaps the sound of busy streets spooked him. He'd passed by uneven cobbled surfaces where the farmers and market folk frequent and didn't go near the houses. It was a good fifteen minutes before Seiren started to breathe properly again. She was lucky: Seven-One-Three didn't go anywhere where he would be easily spotted. People who recognised Seiren after her two weeks' stay called out to her but she ignored them. The guards kept close by, panting.

The houses in Bicknor were so simple. Two storeys, most with slate roofs and smoking chimneys. Street lights peppered the streets at regular intervals. Tidy little front gardens with very little for decoration, but they were well kept and neatly trimmed. Away from the hustle and bustle of the marketplace and train station, it was quieter and more peaceful, reminding Seiren of her home of Finberry, although that was much smaller and greener.

The screams hit Seiren in the gut. She rounded the corner. Two women shot through the narrow alleyway between brick walls and scrambled past her, their long skirts tangling their feet, panic on their white faces. They pushed past Seiren and the two guards and disappeared. Seiren marched ahead, her throat clenching up. A small rumble of explosion sounded from behind but she didn't let it distract her. The alleyway between the two old houses opened to a fenced front garden where the grass was yellowed, wilted, and a collapsed horse cart sat in the corner.

Squatting in front of the house, peering into the windows, was Seven-One-Three, his prisoner's uniform torn down the middle and exposing his muscular back. His hair had grown long as a result of the rune.

Seiren halted the two guards when they drew their weapons. She didn't want any more people to appear on the scene. The two women who'd seen him would need to be captured and Seiren would need a convincing story.

Behind the glass, a mother and daughter cooked together, their backs to Seven-One-Three. Just as well.

"What a creep, spying on the two of them like that," said Seiren under her breath, tugging out a red rune. He was probably jailed for being a rapist and that instinct hadn't died. His next victims would have been these two, if he hadn't been caught.

"That's his wife and daughter," said one of the guards. Seiren stared at him.

"How the hell did you know that?"

"Bicknor... it's a big place, but everyone still knows everyone. That's Rikkard's wife and kid, all right."

"A friend of yours?" Seiren's tone was frosty. The guard shook his head.

"No. We used to be drinking buddies ten years back. Hadn't spoken to him in years. I heard he got nabbed for killing someone who was hitting on his wife, though. That's probably why he was on death row."

And all he wants is just to be back with his family, said Madeleine sadly.

"Well he has no family now. He's just a number." And the only thing ensuring she would never practise as a state mage ever again. She made to step forward. The sound alerted Seven-One-Three to her presence. He whipped around, a growl in his throat, eyes glaring with hate at the three of them. He crouched and shot to the side into the undergrowth. Seiren snapped her fingers, generating a spark. A blast of scarlet energy shot at him, hitting the bushes in front of him. Snarling, he skidded to a halt. Seiren snapped her fingers again, but Madeleine cried out, distracting her. A small poof of flatulence shot from her fingertips. Seven-One-Three leapt at her, saliva flying, claws extended.

The guards raised their runed guns and shot at him. The bullets tore through his flesh, making him screech, but didn't slow him. Seven-One-Three crashed into Seiren, murderous intent blazing in his eyes. He might not be able to speak the human language any longer, but it was obvious he knew what was going on and Seiren's role.

The impact knocked the air out of Seiren's lungs as all ninety kilograms of madman landed on her. Her head banged on the ground, making her see stars and the place spin. He pinned her arms to either side, growling. She couldn't reach her runes. The guards continued to fire, but despite the bullets ripping through vital organs, he appeared unfazed. Blood trickled, landing on Seiren's cloak and tunic and staining them dark red. His breath was foul, his teeth elongated. He leaned down, baring them.

Seiren forced the panic out of her mind and emptied her head. She snapped her fingers. Flames launched at him, searing his skin. Not hot enough. He threw his head back and screamed, his skin turning pink and bubbling with blisters, but didn't relent. Her throat closed up, fear clouding all judgement. Peace... calm... tranquil—

He bore down on her. Seiren squeezed her eyes shut.

The clap of a pair of hands sounded above the roaring in her ears. Something cannonballed into Seven-One-Three, the wind from its projection making Seiren flinch. With a deafening bang, warm liquid spattered Seiren from head to toe. The weight above her body disappeared.

Her eyes snapped open and watered at once when blood dripped into them, leaving a sting. She sat up, retching. The humid scent of human innards mixed with metal was disgusting. She was soaked in shreds of skin and coagulating blood, which was even in her hair. She picked herself up, taking care not to slip in the small paddling pool of insides.

Seven-One-Three was nowhere to be found. Only carnage remained in that tiny alleyway he'd forced her back into.

"My, what a mess," said a heavily accented voice.

Behind her was a portly guy in a state mage's rainbow-rimmed black cloak and a wide-brimmed black hat. His hands were shoved in his pockets. A moustache sat above a small smile. He had dark eyes that surveyed the scene with casual interest and brown skin that hinted he might be a northerner. Seiren had read about him: Tahir Portendorfer, a flash mage.

"Thank you," she said stiffly.

Stay away from him, said Madeleine.

Oh, so you finally talk to me.

Please. He's dangerous. I'm sensing all sorts of wrong emotions from him.

He's a state mage, Madeleine.

"You're quite welcome. I must say, that was quite the interesting encounter." He shrugged and crossed his arms, revealing white-gloved hands. "It's not often I happen by so many that need to be taken care of."

Seiren felt a chill down her spine at his words.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I got word there was an escaped specimen from the laboratory and came to offer reinforcement. Seemed like you needed it."

"Those two women..." whispered her guard, slipping back. She hadn't even seen him leave. "There's two massive blood spatters not far back."

He's the worst of the worst. Seiren, stay the hell away.

Seiren's eyes jumped back to Tahir. She'd read a lot about the eminent flash mage who held no sense of morality. He took on a record number of tasks in his capacity as state mage and always left a trail of devastation in his wake, but he got the job done, and so his credentials were impressive. His flash magic was intense, meaning he had no need to supplement the limitations of flash magic's sole manifestation with the flexibility of element-based burst. He'd progressed from burst magic at a considerably young age and specialised in flash magic thereafter, which manifested as fire-based explosions so hot they could vaporise lakes and scorch forests within minutes. No other mage's manifestation of the single element-based flash had been anywhere near as deadly; Portendorfer was one of the most powerful in his generation.

"That burst magic's pretty pathetic, if I may say so."

"I never asked," said Seiren, incensed. She'd also read about his lack of interest in other people's welfare.

"You know who I am, little baby mage?"

"I'm well aware, Tahir Portendorfer of Sarre. "

"Ah. I guess my renown precedes me." He seemed smug, making no attempt to come closer. "Who's your tutor? They need to do a better job. A cow can fart better than that little puff of smoke you conjured."

"I can manage burst perfectly well," she snapped. "And my tutor is Rowan Woodbead. My name is Seiren Nithercott."

To her surprise, he cackled. "Ah, you're the one everyone's talking about. Let me assure you, Woodbead is probably the worst to teach you anything. You must have seen how reluctant he is to do anything and is so rule-driven he'd check the protocols before deciding if he's to run from a murderer. You'll never amount to anything great under him. I should know. I taught him."

Ah, the clap. Seiren thought she'd recognised the style of conjuring magic from the sound.

"You need to keep your research results a secret, right? I've been there. Don't worry. I remember how strict the council is about what they fund you to do." He grinned, showing pearly teeth. "I'll take care of your little mess."

"What—?"

No!

Before she could complete her question, he'd clapped his hand again. The explosion from behind almost forced Seiren to all fours. Wooden splinters and glass shards tinkled onto the ground.

"Flash magic is superior to burst magic. The energy you conjure, the beautiful sounds that accompany it... you'll grow to like it."

Like it? He's a monster!

"Let me know if you want to take my offer up, Seiren Nithercott. Rowan Woodbead will never be able to satiate your desire to learn, if your reputation is anything to go by. Don't let the common law and mere mortals hold you back; gods are not made that way."

Seiren, do not go to him, ever. I'm sorry about being so mean. But this is a dangerous man to engage with. He's single-handedly wiped entire family lines as part of his research and didn't bat an eyelid. Even the other state mages fear him. Look at him. He didn't even hesitate to kill Rikkard's family, even though they didn't see any of this!

He tipped his hat at her and sauntered off, whistling a tune, leaving Seiren in the bloodied alleyway and the smoking foundations of the house that used to belong to the human Seven-One-Three.

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