At the top of the tower, he found the heart of the Siet鈥攁 massive, pulsating organ encased in a glass vacuum tube. Inside, Marek鈥檚 eyes stared back at him, his nervous system woven into the copper grid. "Forgive me, brother," Tomas whispered.
Tomas hooked his gauntlet onto the main line. The world turned into a blur of sparks and screams. He swung from wire to wire, punching through metal carapaces and tearing out glowing batteries.
Tomas gripped his steam-powered gauntlet, the brass hissing against the morning frost. His partner, Marek, was missing. All that remained at the base of Pylon 09 were Marek鈥檚 pliers and a puddle of black, oily ichor that sizzled against the snow. "They're hungry today," a voice rasped. Evil West na sieti
A blend of 19th-century industrial technology and supernatural monsters.
The air in the Slovak frontier didn't smell like pine anymore; it smelled like ozone and rotted meat. High above the Tatras, the sky was bruised purple, torn open by the jagged copper spires of the "Siet"鈥攖he Network. At the top of the tower, he found
Tomas wasn't a hero. He was a "dr么tik," a wireman for the Carpathian Electrical Works, tasked with maintaining the massive power lines that fueled the industrial hunger of the 19th-century Austro-Hungarian Empire. But the Siet wasn't carrying electricity. It was carrying something older, something that bled through the copper and infected the land. The "Evil West" had come to the East.
"The Network is nearly complete," the creature hissed, its eyes glowing with a sickening blue voltage. "Soon, the pulse will scream from Pressburg to the Black Sea. No more hiding in the shadows. We will walk in the light of the spark." Tomas hooked his gauntlet onto the main line
He didn't pull Marek out. He knew the cost. Instead, he overloaded his gauntlet, punching the regulator until it glowed white-hot. He jammed his fist into the heart of the machine.
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