Coppercoil Shade

Field account

We first saw blue-white arcs walking the telegraph wire where no wire remained. Beneath them drifted a human outline made entirely of copper loops, each coil turning around an absence. The Coppercoil Shade tightened when our lamp battery warmed. Soot marked the air at its joints, though rain passed through the empty body. When Ferris fired the crank unit, the shot never reached it. Charge leapt from the barrel to the nearest coil, traveled around the ghost, and came back through the wet path under our boots. Every copper tag on the trail flashed at once. We threw the tags into separate puddles and broke the current into harmless branches. The Shade is not lightning given a body. It is remembered circuitry still trying to complete itself, and anything that produces, stores, or guides charge becomes an organ it can borrow.

Observed behavior

The Shade positions itself where wet ground, hanging wire, and metal objects create many possible paths. It begins by tagging the most conductive body, then shares incoming energy across everything connected to that target. Direct electrical attacks or powered tools strengthen it. The coils tighten before a major release, giving a brief chance to scatter conductors or ground them separately. A Shade avoids dry wood, glass, and broad beds of charcoal ash. When deprived of charge, it becomes dim and compulsively follows the nearest warm machine rather than defending its territory.