Amelia

As the Pappy Long Legs ascended into the tranquil evening skies of Quadrant Seven, Amelia pressed her face against the grand circular window at the end of a dimly lit corridor. The window, like a domed pier reaching into the heavens, offered vistas only an airship could provide. Below it, the metallic platform shimmered with a bronze sheen, while sleek wooden rails provided just enough height for Amelia to peer over the edge.

Stretching her arms toward the sky, she marveled at the breathtaking panorama. No wind, no scent of flowers, and no dust in the air as there had been in the Conkle mines. Yet, the warm golden glow of the evening sunlight made her feel as if she were flying. For a moment, the weight of her recent fears seemed as light as the clouds wisping around the airship, carried away by the boundless horizon.

But the horizon always brought echoes.

Her fingers tightened on the railing as memories of the Greisha ceremony surged unbidden—flashes of firelit arenas, spinning platforms, and the judgmental gaze of the thirteen Quadrant Leaders. The images came sharp and vivid, like blades drawn across her mind.

The ceremony had been a masterpiece of clockwork and danger. Platforms turned like a giant puzzle, flames flared with each strike or dodge, and above, the Quadrant Leaders loomed in their thrones, each marked by the animal they represented.

She could only see three from her vantage point. Enton the Boar, Leader of Quadrant Two, bellowed, “Overwhelming force succeeds where the mind fails!” as Bolton’s air nodes launched him across the arena like a human missile.

Glassford the Owl, Leader of Quadrant Eight, perched in eerie silence on his swooping throne. “The night is where wisdom shines,” he murmured, his deep-blue seat pulsing faintly.

And the Badger, Leader of Quadrant One, drew the loudest cheers. His hybridized ladle-weapon clanged against his throne—an ornate cauldron held aloft by metal badgers. “Resourcefulness makes the meal!” he declared, laughing at every clever move.

Above them all sat her father, motionless, his throne silhouetted against the cosmos. His silent judgment weighed heavier than the crowd’s roars, a reminder of what was at stake. Though obscured from her view, the remaining leaders radiated their own weight of power, like their reputation, their presence undeniable.

Amelia’s brothers had fought relentlessly. Bolton, a force of nature, launched himself at her with spinning bo staff arcs. Michael, tactical and sharp, wielded his whip like a thunderclap, forcing her to leap from platform to platform. Her electric gloves crackled with energy, but their limited charge made every use a gamble.

The memory played out as if alive. Bolton misjudged his momentum, slamming into Michael with bone-crushing force. Seizing the moment, Amelia stunned him with her gloves and snatched an air node from his pocket. The crowd roared as she propelled herself forward, headbutting Bolton off the platform.

“A real gearpunk!” the Badger had howled. “Resourceful as every New Dwardian should be!”

But celebration was fleeting. Michael’s whip lashed across her chest, leaving her breathless. Dazed and gasping, she barely registered his clean right hook before it sent her spiraling toward the farthest platform. Stars blurred above as the announcer’s voice cut through the chaos:

“Enough! In the rare fight between triplets, only one can be named a true royal. Only one can be Yerro’s vessel!”

The words reverberated until a sudden thumping sound tore her back to the present. Her breath hitched as the sound grew louder, insistent. It wasn’t coming from outside—it was coming from her locket.

The Gigarock inside pulsed harder than ever before, its rhythm steady and urgent. Amelia’s vision cleared, and she found herself cradling the locket against her chest, instinctively seeking comfort in its weight.

Her reflection shimmered in the Gigarock’s surface as she slowly opened the locket. Inside, the faint glow of the Gigarock pulsed in perfect rhythm with the fleshy heart encased within. Her fingers tightened around its edges, her breath uneven.

“It’s alive…” she whispered, barely recognizing her own voice.

The locket’s secrets stirred memories of the Greisha platforms—her pounding heart, the mix of fear and determination. The Gigarock’s erratic thumping felt connected, its energy syncing with the echoes of her past.

Her unease grew. What was it responding to? Proximity? The airship? Or something else entirely—something waiting ahead?

Before she could untangle her thoughts, a strange voice broke the silence.

“Amelia!” it called, faint at first but growing louder, threaded with urgency that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Amelia!” the voice called again, resonating deeper this time, as if it came not from the locket but from within her very chest. Her fingers tightened around the cool metal, and the hum of the Gigarock inside seemed to amplify, its pulse quickening to match the voice's rhythm.

She whispered to herself, her words almost lost to the wind slipping through the narrow corridor. “Who—or what—are you?” Her voice cracked, a mix of frustration and unease. She had faced strange occurrences since leaving the confines of Quadrant Seven, but this was something else entirely.

“Talking Gigarock? Every Yardrat on Earth is about to lose their minds,” she muttered, trying to steady her nerves. She raised the locket toward the dimming horizon, its golden hues casting a soft glow over her trembling fingers.

The locket’s secrets had always been a heavy burden, but now they felt unbearable. With desperation tinged in her voice, she gave the locket a small shake. “If you’re going to talk, talk clearly!” she hissed, her movements edged with mounting frustration.

The locket’s secrets had always been a heavy burden, but now they felt unbearable. With desperation tinged in her voice, she gave the locket a small shake. “If you’re going to talk, talk clearly!” she hissed, her movements edged with mounting frustration.

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Suddenly, the ethereal voice burst forth again, this time with a startling clarity. “Amelia, calm down!” it commanded, a slight tremor of irritation breaking through the calmness.

Amelia nearly dropped the locket. “By the green! You—you’re talking!” she stammered, holding the locket closer as though it might somehow confirm what she was hearing. “I—I don’t even—wait, are you alive? Is this Yerro?”

The voice sighed, its ethereal resonance carrying a strange weight. “What? No!” it snapped, then softened. “I mean… yes. In a way. I’m Cameron. I’m your brother’s—The King’s—Keeper.”

Amelia froze, the title pulling her focus into sharp clarity. “Cameron?” she whispered, the name stirring faint memories. “At Quadrant Zero?”

Her mind raced, conjuring images of the Primarian Royale—the sprawling center of New Dwarden, teeming with ceaseless clockwork and towering constructs. Amidst the grandeur, she remembered a small girl who worked tirelessly atop a massive giant. Cameron, smeared in grease and dust, her dark dress perpetually dirtied by machinery. The girl’s dark eyeshadow gave her the eerie appearance of a living puppet, but her cheerful demeanor was anything but. She had always seemed content, handing oversized tools to the towering giant she accompanied, her movements impossibly nimble.

Amelia had only seen her in passing, their encounters fleeting. The girl’s constant presence on the giant’s shoulder—applying grease, balancing effortlessly as the massive figure moved—had left an impression. The giant itself, two stories tall, dwarfed even the grandest New Dwardian homes. Its muscular frame and dirtied train conductor’s uniform were both a spectacle and a symbol of industry in the Royale. But despite her curiosity, Amelia had never spoken to the girl. There had never been time.

“Is this the same Cameron?” Amelia murmured, her heart racing as the memories settled uneasily. She tightened her grip on the locket, staring at the faintly glowing Gigarock within. “I got his letter! And where’s my brother? Where’s the King?” she demanded, her voice edged with growing worry.

“The letter made its way?” Cameron’s voice mumbled, relieved. “Good! Means you’re with that stiffler Rick. Aand not to worry. The King’s here. Most of him…” The way the words trailed off made Amelia’s stomach twist with unease.

“Most of him?” she echoed, her voice sharpening.

“Yes. But on my honor, he’s alive,” Cameron replied, though her voice wavered as if caught in some strange interference.

Before Amelia could press further, the locket began to hum. The chain tugged at her neck as the pendant levitated, spinning faster and faster. A brilliant blue light erupted from it, bathing the room in an otherworldly glow. Amelia’s breath caught. This wasn’t like the faint glimmers she’d seen before. This light felt alive, calm yet charged with purpose. The necklace spun so fast she feared it might break, but it hovered just above her hand, defying gravity.

“This isn’t the time for idle chatter!” Another voice broke through—rough, deep, and commanding. “Let me in… l-et me...” The voices clashed, and Cameron’s softer tone nearly drowned out as the rougher voice took control. “Hear me, Crowny! I’m Ehmir, a member of the Primarian Hammer. I’ve got Cameron of the Primarian Arc, your fool of a brother Bolton, and the mud puddle of a King holed up in a sewer under the Royale.”

Amelia blinked, trying to process the rush of words. “Put ’em on the crystal!” she shouted, frustration edging into desperation.

“It’s not that easy, missy,” Ehmir grumbled, his voice rough but tinged with grim humor.

“Pass the crystal, no?” she snapped, clenching her fists.

“Listen, royal. Do you know how to grab a floating crystal? Or ring someone with a bloody rock? Likely not. Well, Dolly, you see the predicament. We’re all playing baseball with two sticks and no ball.”

Amelia sighed, glancing at the walls of the Pappy Long Legs. If Rick was listening, she could use his help. “Next lesson, Crowny. Your brother Bolton, bless his thick skull, got here in one piece. We just didn’t expect him to show up wedged between a giant lizard and a caveman.”

“A caveman?” Amelia blurted. “In a sewer?”

“Why not? In a world of giants, monsters, and spirits, let’s add a caveman for fun,” she muttered sarcastically.

Ehmir’s voice was rough, carrying a hint of urgency. “Focus, girly. Your brother’s got a message for you. It’s about that gem around your neck—the Gigarock.”

Before he could continue, Cameron’s soft laughter spilled through the locket, light and teasing. “Listen, Amelia, this is serious! But Ehmir speaks as if drama were a dust storm,” she quipped.

“Cameron!” Ehmir growled, clearly unimpressed. “This isn’t a comedy, Amelia. Pay attention!”

Their voices were interrupted by a loud metallic clang and a muffled curse. “For Yerro’s gears, Bolton! Get your watch under control!” Ehmir barked.

“Amelia,” Cameron chimed in breathlessly between bouts of laughter, “you won’t believe this, but your brother’s pocket watch is… well… flying.”

“It’s not flying, it’s—argh—escaping!” Ehmir snarled, his voice trailing off as more clattering echoed in the background. “Damn thing has a mind of its own!”

Amelia blinked at the locket in disbelief, torn between worry and amusement. “You’re telling me my brother’s watch is alive?” she asked incredulously.

“Not alive, just... overly energetic,” Cameron replied, her tone dancing on the edge of another laugh. “Ehmir’s climbing over furniture trying to catch it.”

“I’m not climbing! I’m strategically maneuvering,” Ehmir shot back, his irritation palpable. “Amelia, focus! Keep the fleshy circle safe, crush the blue shell if you must—but not the core. And for the love of gears, watch your back. Yerro isn’t what you think.”

Another crash echoed through the locket, followed by Ehmir’s grumbling. “This family and their cursed inventions…”

Amelia tried to seize the moment, her voice cutting in quickly. “Wait! What about my brother—the King? Is he—”

Ehmir interrupted before she could finish, his tone sharp and insistent. “Both your brothers are safe for now! Get to Veranus! Cameron may be a goof, but she’s an excellent iron medic.”

“Learned from the best,” Cameron chirped proudly in the background, her voice dripping with playful flattery.

Ehmir ignored her entirely, his tone shifting to a gruff urgency. “The light’s beginning to fade, and I can only assume this means our connection will falter. What the Gigarock can do is still a mystery, but trust me—keep it safe!”

Amelia tightened her grip on the locket, her knuckles white. “But what do I—?”

“No time for more questions, Dolly,” Ehmir cut her off. “Ya, never know who’s listening. You’ll get your answers soon enough. Veranus. Stay sharp.”

The glow from the locket began to dim, casting flickering shadows across the walls of the Pappy Long Legs. “We’ll meet again, Amelia,” Cameron’s voice softened, the light from the Gigarock now a faint shimmer. “And tell Rick… he still owes me for that recipe.”

“Enough, Cameron!” Ehmir barked, though a hint of warmth crept into his tone. “Amelia, stay sharp. Protect the Gigarock. We’ll find you soon.”

The locket dimmed completely, leaving Amelia in silence save for the hum of the airship. She stared down at the locket, its weight feeling heavier than ever in her hand.

Amelia tightened her grip on the locket, its weight grounding her as she turned her gaze to the horizon. The shimmering lights of Veranus flickered faintly in the distance, a deceptive beacon of hope. For all the warmth of the approaching city, a chill coursed through her veins. Something awaited her there, something bigger than herself, her brothers, or the glowing Gigarock thumping steadily in her palm.

“Whatever this fight is,” she whispered, staring down at the locket, “it’s far from over.”