The smelter’s air hung heavy with smoke as dawn bled through its cracked roof, gray light spilling over the crew. Lynn knelt by the broken pipe, its split edge mocking him, while the starfire ore glowed faintly in its crates. Ella stirred from her corner, her ember flaring awake, and Kael stretched with a groan, his coat dusted with ash. Thorn loomed by the entrance, a statue of scars and muscle, while Lyra pored over her notes, her crystal shimmering in the dimness.

“Sleep’s over,” Lynn said, standing. “We fix it today—smarter, like I said.”

“Smarter how?” Ella asked, rubbing her eyes. “Pipe’s junk. Fire’s still wild.”

“Smaller bursts,” Lynn said, tapping the ore. “Lyra, your crystals—how tight can you make ‘em?”

Lyra looked up, her voice soft but sure. “Tighter than last night. I can shape a core—small, dense—to hold the heat. But the metal’s the problem.”

“Then we reinforce it,” Lynn said, those Earth visions guiding him—steel bands, sealed joints. “Kael, more scrap—thicker stuff. Thorn, bend what we’ve got.”

Kael grinned, already moving. “On it, boss.”

Thorn grunted, hefting a plate. “Bend it how?”

“Like this,” Lynn said, sketching a curve in the dirt—a rough cylinder, braced tight. “Traps the fire, channels it.”

Thorn shrugged and set to work, his hands warping the metal with dull thuds. Kael returned with a haul—rusted bars, a dented sheet—and Lynn fitted them around the pipe, hammering with a scavenged mallet. Ella fed a slow flame into the ore, her ember steady now, while Lyra pressed a crystal to its heart. It hardened, a glassy bead locking the glow inside.

“Ready,” Lyra said, stepping back.

Lynn nodded. “Light it.”

Ella’s fire curled into the pipe, slower this time, controlled. The crystal flared, and a low hum rose—stronger, smoother than before. The pipe trembled but held, smoke curling from its seams, and a faint pulse of heat rippled out.

“It’s alive,” Kael said, eyes wide. “Bloody hell, it’s alive!”

“Don’t jinx it,” Ella snapped, but her lips twitched—a ghost of a smile.

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Thorn rapped the pipe, grinning. “Teeth yet?”

“Soon,” Lynn said, watching the hum settle. It wasn’t roaring—not yet—but it was steady. A heart, beating harder. “We’ve got the core. Next, a frame—wheels, maybe.”

“Wheels?” Lyra frowned, scribbling. “To move it?”

“Exactly,” Lynn said, the vision sharpening—gears spinning, a beast rolling over ash. “A cart that fights.”

A sharp clang cut him off—the smelter’s wall rattled, dust raining down. Thorn spun, fists up, as a horn blared outside, closer than before. Kael peeked through a crack, his grin fading. “Guards. Ten, maybe twelve. Got a Starborn with ‘em—Seryn.”

“Seryn?” Ella’s ember flared hot. “That snake’s hunting us now?”

“Payback for the pit,” Lynn said, grabbing a bar. “We stand, or we’re done.”

Thorn cracked his knuckles. “Let ‘em come.”

“No,” Lynn said, sharp. “We’ve got something—they don’t. Ella, Lyra, charge it up. Kael, Thorn, block the door.”

Ella fed fire into the pipe, fiercer now, while Lyra jammed a second crystal in. The hum spiked, smoke thickening, and the pipe glowed red-hot. Kael and Thorn shoved crates against the entrance, but boots pounded closer—guards shouting, metal clashing.

“Open up, rats!” a voice barked. “Lords want your heads!”

Seryn’s glow seeped through the cracks—pale, icy, probing. Lynn’s arm throbbed where she’d touched him, a ghost of that chill. “She’s sensing the ore,” he muttered. “Ella, now!”

Ella snarled, her ember blazing into a torrent. The pipe shrieked, heat blasting out, and the crystals pulsed—too bright, too fast. “It’s gonna blow!” Lyra yelled, diving back.

“Hold it!” Lynn roared, gripping the bar. The smelter shook, and with a deafening crack, the pipe erupted—not in shards, but a jet of fire, blasting through the wall. It hit the guards square, a wave of heat and smoke scattering them. Screams broke the air, torches dropping, and Seryn’s glow vanished.

“Out!” Lynn shouted, coughing through the haze. Thorn kicked the crates aside, and they stumbled into the dawn, the smelter belching black behind them. Guards writhed on the ground, burned and dazed, while Seryn staggered back, her cloak singed, eyes wide with shock.

“Stay back!” Lynn yelled, brandishing the bar. “Next one’s for you!”

Seryn froze, her hands dimming. “You’re mad,” she whispered, then bolted, the guards limping after her.

Kael laughed, hoarse. “That’s a bite, Thorn!”

Thorn grunted, impressed. “Teeth.”

Ella wiped sweat from her brow, her ember low. “Nearly cooked us, too.”

“But it worked,” Lynn said, adrenaline surging. “We’ve got power—real power.”

Lyra clutched her notes, shaken. “Crystals held—just. We need better seals, or it’s a bomb every time.”

“Then we get ‘em,” Lynn said, turning to the smelter. Smoke poured from its gut, but the pipe still stood—scarred, alive. “This is our edge.”

The horn sounded again, fainter—Ashhold waking to the chaos. Lynn’s crew stood ragged but unbroken, the dawn painting them in ash and light. Ella met his eyes, her ember steadying. “You’re still crazy.”

“Crazy’s winning,” he said, a grin breaking through. “We’ve got the heart. Now we build the beast.”

Thorn hefted a crate, Kael saluted, and Lyra nodded, her fear fading. They moved back inside, the smelter’s heat wrapping them like a forge. Lynn’s visions burned clearer—wheels, steel, a roar to shake the Lords’ tower. The spark was a flame now, and it wouldn’t die easy.

Outside, Seryn’s shadow lingered on the horizon, watching. Lynn felt it—cracks, widening. He’d use them all.