Estingai found herself close to smiling as she looked over the wires and biogems worked into the sabaton of the Lightforged armor. Most of the plates had greynodes, blacknodes, and bluenodes attached to them to strengthen them, help shroud the wearer from Auroramancy, and store additional Auroralight, but this piece was something else entirely. The georaural framework was centered around the ankles, but then the wiring snuck under the plates, touching every bit of the armor, with a few bits and little plates that Estingai believed connected to the boots worn underneath. The framework not only included moonstone, onyx, and sapphire biogems like the rest of the plates, but diamond, opal, and emerald biogems as well.

What could those be for?

She still hadn't figured out the ruby frameworks on the chest pieces, and the emerald frameworks on those were different that the ones Estingai examined now. She knew all the standard cuts—the way a gem was shaped could alter its effect slightly—but some of these just didn’t make sense.

The Lightforged didn’t seem to use many of the armor’s capabilities when we fought. Could this be new? Experimental?

Despite her frustration at the puzzle, Estingai found herself more at peace than she'd been in weeks. She was alone and doing something she enjoyed. It kept her mind engaged, and reminded her of the days before any sense of normalcy in the world had vanished. Everything around her could change, but as long as she had georaurals to tinker with, Estingai could hold herself steady. Even the lack of proper tools and resources, she could weather. She'd spent a few years when she was young with far less than she had now, and the restrictions just pushed her to be more creative with what she had.

Even as her solitude gave her peace, though, the limited resources made Estingai wish she had Naruuna or Uuchantuu to bounce ideas off of.

Or Suulehep.

Estingai had to take a deep breath and swallow the lump in her throat. Remembering her uncle always hurt, but it hurt less when she was doing something like this. It made her miss him, as he'd taught her the fundamentals and how to reverse engineer what she found to conserve or repurpose resources, but to Estingai, when she worked on these, her uncle lived again, fingers working at the intricate, delicate structures of georaruals along with her own.

"Estingai?"

Estingai jumped at the voice, then blinked, straightening as she found Marjatla standing in front of the curtain.

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Was I really that engrossed in the work?

She supposed that was a good thing, but didn't like the fact that someone had snuck up on her.

"What do you need, Marjatla?"

The woman took a deep breath, eyes scanning the room and the workbench, then Estingai.

"What are you doing here?"

Estingai raised an eyebrow. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Marjatla sighed, and Estingai looked back to her work.

"The only other people that could work with something this complex aren't here. If I can repair and replicate this armor—"

"But you can't," Marjatla snapped.

Estingai blinked at the woman's tone.

"We don't have the resources," Marjatla continued before Estingai could object. "That would require stealing too much from the Imaia, and the benefit wouldn't be worth it."

"Of course it would! It could make all the difference in combat if—"

"And who would wear it? You haven't fought since the second time you dragged yourself back here alone and half-dead. Your leg is still healing, but an injury like that never stopped you in the past.

You've barely taken on any responsibility in getting things done around here except when it allows you to do what you want to do and ignore everything else while putting the burdens you should bear onto everyone else. Aaden and I are running ourselves ragged trying to keep the base running, communicating with Icevein and Stormswind and ensuring that Meik’ka and Uuldina think that partnership with us is worth it. We need you.”

Estingai set her jaw, blood boiling. "I told you why I can't lead. I—"

"Darkness!" Marjatla swore. "Get over yourself, Estingai. You're not the only one grieving. We've all lost people. We all lost Svemakuu and Raima. Not just you. He was your husband, but he was my friend. Most people in Frozen Phantom looked up to him as much as they looked to you or Raima. You just thought you three were invincible, and finally realized that none of us are."

Estingai swallowed, stomach tight, throat dry. Even if she could speak, what could she say to that?

"Raima believed in you, Estingai," Marjatla jabbed a finger forward as she stepped closer. "You're the last of the Knights Reborn, and you're the best chance we have at something other than cowering in these caves until the world ends, but you need to actually help. Not just fighting or working on the ships and other georaural tech. We need you to use your name and your history and the fact that you're an Auroraborn. You were trained by the man who helped build the Imaia, and then tried to tear it down, for the auroras’ sake!"

Marjatla took a deep breath and straightened.

"You're the only one who still brings us hope,” she said, voice quiet as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Even if you don't have any yourself."

Marjatla's words twisted Estingai's stomach.

Have I really been working toward Svemakuu's goal as hard as I thought? Or was I just… too scared that if I tried, I might fail?

Estingai held Marjatla's gaze, trying to think of something more than a platitude or an excuse.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to try.

Then the base alarms blared out in the halls, echoing down the tunnels.