Viviane straightened from her slouched position and flung a thumb towards the ancient Aetherframe. "C'est vrai. She can do those things."

Evelyne's half-asleep expression vanished in an instant—and the chair nearly toppled backwards—as she leaped to her feet and crossed the floor. "Quoi! Wait-wait-wait...de quoi vous parlez?"

She approached Ebonheim's side and took her hands, eyes practically sparkling as she stared with naked wonder. "Ma déesse, is this true?"

Ebonheim managed an awkward smile and pulled back gently. "Well..."

The recent information spread through the members like wildfire. A stream of Artificers—from apprentices to master smiths—joined the group surrounding them, peppering her with a barrage of questions. Everyone spoke rapidly. Their overlapping voices blurring into incomprehensible nonsense.

"All right!" Ebonheim clapped loudly twice. The racket ceased immediately. "Calm yourselves, everyone. One at a time. Go slow and repeat your questions."

Over the course of the following hour, Ebonheim answered most questions with vague explanations regarding the ancient Aetherframe and her usage of its functions.

"So this Aetherframe is called Cepheid?" Evelyne inquired, hands clasped tightly before her chest. "You can turn it into your personal armor? How? Does it shrink and reassemble itself onto your body? Is the process painful or uncomfortable? What about its weight? And the wings—"

"Umm..." Ebonheim twiddled her thumbs as she searched for a suitable response. "I haven't gotten a chance to fully explore all the functions yet. Nor have I gotten around to figuring out its exact mechanics...but...well..."

She tried explaining what occurred when she used the Aetherframe for the first time—minus the Akashic System's involvement. As expected, her answer stirred the collective interest anew. Many tried insisting she demonstrate the Aetherframe's abilities again to confirm the details.

Ebonheim climbed into Cepheid's control alcove and tried powering up its systems—to no avail.

Its Aetherium Epoch core was still active, but despite repeated efforts at syncing with the frame and taking control, nothing happened. Her efforts simply elicited confused static buzzing noises in response. After several attempts—each followed by complete failure—she crawled out from the opening and shrugged helplessly.

"I've no clue what the issue is," she stated bluntly.

The look of utter disappointment on Evelyne's face felt almost physically painful. Everyone stared despondently. Even the noise level in the workshop dropped off considerably. Ebonheim gave them all apologetic looks and grimaced.

"Sorry."

Several collective sighs swept the crowd and people began slinking away—either returning to their own workspaces or retreating elsewhere—their excitement crushed under the weight of their collective gloom.

Ebonheim looked back up at the half-deconstructed Aetherframe looming high over their heads. Despite the numerous complex components and mechanisms currently removed and hanging by various hooks or wires, the colossal contraption seemed in good shape—aside from the minor scratches and gouges from battle damage sustained during her fight with Liselotte atop the ancient city ruins. The issue clearly laid somewhere else.

She focused her will, inquiring the Akashic System for an answer to this conundrum.

[Cepheid is currently in maintenance mode.]

[You are unable to activate the Divine Arsenal mode of Cepheid due to the current state of the Aetherframe. Multiple components have been either damaged or disconnected. The Aetherframe requires maintenance or repair in order to resume normal functionality.]

Ooohh...right. That made a lot of sense. She should have guessed something like that could happen. Obviously, no device was going to work flawlessly if half of its components had been stripped apart and taken out of place. How silly of her.

"After you're all done tinkering with Cepheid and repairing the various bits and bobs, I think I'll be able to show you how the whole process works," Ebonheim noted sheepishly. "Pretty sure at least."

Evelyne tapped a finger upon her chin thoughtfully and peered upwards. "So, you're saying the reason for your failure stems from us?" She didn't sound too pleased at the prospect.

Ebonheim held up both hands reassuringly. "No. Not at all. The Aetherframe was a mess, right? It couldn't be helped. Please continue on, and when it's ready I'll be able to demonstrate."

"Very well, ma déesse," Evelyne declared—then brightened considerably. "And...when that time arrives...it would be magnificent!"

"Of course," Ebonheim agreed quickly. "Sure, no problem."

Evelyne and the Artificers gradually returned to their stations to finish the rest of the ongoing experiments, leaving Bjorn and Thorsten to mingle with Ebonheim.

"It's a shame I missed seeing your fight with that harpy queen," Bjorn remarked idly, glancing around the workshop and watching the activities within. "Seems like an impressive spectacle."

"I didn't get to witness it myself," Thorsten admitted, folding his arms over his broad chest and grunting. "But when I saw you swooping down from the sky, cradling her wounded body, I could imagine the full scope of what happened. Nothing less could rattle our goddess. Hah!"

Ebonheim averted her gaze in embarrassment. "Aww geez...could you stop making me sound like an invincible being? It was a hard-won battle."

Thorsten grinned widely. "But you won. With your weapon, that Aetherframe...what did you call it?"

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"Cepheid."

"Cepheid!" he thundered, sweeping his fist upwards emphatically. "Your victory proves my belief right! You need not hold back your divine wrath when confronting her ilk. Your power should never be contained!"

Ebonheim closed her eyes and massaged her temples with both hands. "Right," she muttered under her breath. "Absolutely. Mhmm."

She caught Bjorn trying to muffle his laughter unsuccessfully and threw him a mock-glare. He smirked in response, running a hand over his beard.

"Nevermind that for now," Thorsten boomed jovially. "What say we let these fine people go back to their duties and head to the feast hall and crack open a cask of ale together? There's also roast awaiting us."

Ebonheim's stomach growled audibly in agreement. The snack from earlier hadn't satiated her hunger and she craved a proper meal. The proposal sounded delicious and inviting.

"Works for me," she said cheerily.

Bjorn chuckled loudly. "And for me."

Ebonheim turned towards Kelzryn, who had stayed quietly nearby observing the recent developments. "Are you coming?"

His azure eyes blinked languidly—a gesture which struck her as oddly mesmerizing and attractive. She resisted the urge to lean closer to study the intriguing gleam hidden within their depths. Instead, she tore her attention away and cleared her throat softly.

Kelzryn cocked his head and seemed to ponder something. He parted his lips, then closed them wordlessly. Instead, he inclined his head subtly and stepped closer. "Certainly."

"All right!" Ebonheim clasped her hands together before her, grinning excitedly. "Let's go feast. Edith, Viviane! Don't forget to eat as well and rest. Okay?"

Evelyne waved absently without turning about.

Viviane paused midway from tossing another large plateful of scrap metal pieces onto a pile nearby—brushing a stray lock out her face as she stared blankly in their general direction—a fat smudge of soot painted her cheek and forehead.

"Uh..oui oui...soon." She nodded vigorously—then winked and returned to her project.

----------------------------------------

Ebonheim left the workshop, followed closely by Kelzryn, Thorsten, and Bjorn. As the group headed toward the main square, Kelzryn approached her—sidling up until his shoulder brushed against hers—and lowered his head to speak in her ear.

"You mentioned that you used that Aetherframe during your battle with Liselotte," he stated, keeping his voice low. "But what would have happened if you hadn't been flung into the ruins by her attack and somehow stumbled upon the Aetherframe in time?"

She blinked. The question struck a chord. What would have happened if she had fallen somewhere else?

The battle hadn't gone in her favor since the start, and Liselotte could have easily dealt a deathblow if the fight had continued. Ebonheim was out of her element and completely outmatched in the fight.

Maybe if she had been able to stall for more time for the Akashic System to somehow find an out or something...that may have saved the day...but the possibility seemed minuscule at best. Perhaps sheer dumb luck had intervened that day. It wouldn't have been the first time her existence relied upon pure chance and circumstance.

Ebonheim paused midstep, considering his words.

"Hmm...I'd probably have died," she concluded flatly. "Nothing else came to mind at the time—nothing feasible, anyway."

Bjorn and Thorsten halted. Both men looked shocked at the admission. They exchanged a quick glance—exchanging an unspoken question—then fixed their gaze upon her.

"That's how dire the situation became, eh?" Bjorn whispered, his voice somber.

Thorsten coughed awkwardly into a fist. His face contorted slightly, lips pulling into a slight frown and eyebrows drawn tight. "I was prepared for a glorious death when more of those harpies descended upon us—yet I am thankful our deaths have been delayed."

Ebonheim grasped her arm and dropped her head to stare at her feet.

The thought did cause some worry to creep its way into her mind—not at the prospect of dying, since the chance of her divine spark expiring was low, but rather at how the others who were with her could have perished. If the circumstances had unfolded differently, everyone could have died...and the guilt she would have carried from such a misstep weighed heavily.

She should have refused their offer to join her. She should have realized that they had ventured into Liselotte's territory and should have discouraged them. She should have met with the harpy queen prior and maybe negotiated an arrangement before trying to build a road through her home. She should have foreseen the fallout. She should have predicted the inevitable and avoided such a grim fate.

But the thought never occurred to her. It slipped right past her mind's periphery. She had been too caught up in the wanderlust of exploring, too immersed in the novelty and thrill of traveling with her companions, to realize the risks they would take. All because of her selfishness. All because she enjoyed the adventure. All because she had managed to overcome all the dangers that had befallen them prior.

Who had she fooled? Her? Thinking that she was wise? Powerful? Unbeatable? All evidence pointed to the contrary. She couldn't have been less impressive. Nothing more than a juvenile entity struggling to keep her head afloat. Everything about her was far less than ideal.

"Do not trouble yourself over these things," Kelzryn suggested mildly, placing a hand gently atop Ebonheim's head and patting once. His voice conveyed confidence and comfort. "What you are doing right now is perfectly acceptable. And the mistakes you have made—if such trivial blunders can even be considered mistakes—are forgivable."

Thorsten and Bjorn stood alongside Kelzryn—each taking up positions on either side of Ebonheim.

"Aye, lass," Thorsten rumbled. "T'was not yer fault. These things happen. Everyone there could have made a different choice to change how things happened. We can all reflect upon those things later. Don't trouble yerself over them."

Bjorn nodded solemnly. "I'm sure we've had this conversation before. We've never expected you to be omniscient—no god is. Not even the eldest among them."

Kelzryn folded his arms across his chest. His gaze roved the empty road leading away from the main plaza—its cobbles dull and weathered—then shifted towards Ebonheim's bowed figure.

"Gods are bound to fate more than any other being," he declared calmly. "But for them, this fact serves as an eternal reminder. Whether you realize or not...your life is written upon the fabric of this realm. How and why are inconsequential. Whether you see these threads or not. They exist and surround you always. Even if you have the will to stray from the course, destiny will see you fulfill it one way or the other."

Bjorn's eyes widened a fraction before narrowing pensively. "I'll have to disagree on that. Fate is just another obstacle one should overcome. Fight it if need be."

"That is a luxury bestowed upon mortals—whose lives are fleeting compared to those who watch from above." Kelzryn's voice retained its stoic edge, although a hint of curiosity lurked behind the words. "The gods' role is to observe and guide their mortal charges."

"If only. Ha!" Thorsten spat contemptuously. "Tell that to those who conquered and wrought chaos upon others for their own sakes. Don't count on them standing idle or benevolent. Some do meddle where they shouldn't, and that leads to damnable consequences."

Ebonheim straightened and squared her shoulders. Her posture assumed a steely rigidity as she marched ahead. "Alright, alright. I'm done sulking. You made your points. Enough about this." She exhaled sharply before glancing at the trio behind her. "Thanks guys. Now come along. I'm sick of this moping and pondering. Ale and roast awaits!"

She stomped onwards—eyes trained straight ahead—head held high.

No matter what, she would proceed forward—feeling and ignoring the persistent specter haunting her thoughts and stirring doubts. Maybe it was fate that pushed her in these directions or not, but it was pointless worrying about something so ephemeral and abstract. In the end, she could only try and persevere as best as possible, and learn from her experiences and mistakes.