The Butcher's Bill

The breakthrough came a week before Graduation. They had done it. The device worked. Elara could channel Void energy into a directed beam stable enough to power a city—or level one.

Valerian went to the Dean’s office to file the preliminary report. The office was empty.

Valerian wasn't a spy, but he was a man who hated unanswered questions. He saw a ledger on the Dean’s desk. *Subject Allocation: Fiscal Year 3025.*

He opened it.

He expected budget reports. He found a slaughterhouse menu.

* Subject 74 (Vane): Maturation complete. Estimated Yield: 50,000 Mana Units.*
* Disposal Method: Direct Injection into the Breach.*
* Notes: Student Handler (Cross) has successfully increased mana density by 400%. Commendation recommended for fattening the calf.*

Valerian stopped reading. The world went very still.

He looked at the bookshelf. He looked at the view of the Breach outside the window—that swirling vortex of black and grey.

They weren't engineers. They were farmers.

St. Hestia’s didn't train the Void-Touched. They harvested them. Every year, the "psychos" disappeared. The school claimed they were expelled or transferred. In reality, they were thrown into the Breach to keep it stable, to feed the hunger so the rest of the world could ignore it.

And Valerian... Valerian had been the chef. He had fed Elara, strengthened her, tuned her engine, all so she would burn brighter when they killed her.

He felt a sensation he hadn't felt in years. Nausea.

He closed the ledger.

"Inefficient," he whispered. The word tasted like ash.

It wasn't just inefficient. It was boring. It was a waste of a perfect variable.

He walked out of the office. He didn't go back to the lab. He went to the maintenance sublevels. He needed tools. He needed to change the parameters of the experiment.

If the school wanted a sacrifice, he would give them one. But they weren't going to like the flavor.