Chapter 7: Ravenna:

Location: Leight University; Zeb’s home

Zeb’s eyes narrow, a subtle vein twitching as Claire runs her fingers over the smooth surface of his marble center table. His jaw clenches slightly when she touches the glass vase at its center.

Rav, can you believe this place? Look at that chandelier!” Claire exclaims, her gaze drawn to the grand chandelier hanging above us.

Claire had finally arrived, fetched by Zeb from the university. The quirks of portal travel meant that although we entered minutes apart, she arrived hours after me.

“Everything here is so different. None of this is made with tech wizardry. Just normal...stuff,” she comments, wandering over to an eight-foot-tall abstract sculpture in a corner of the minimally adorned room.

As she reaches out to touch it, Zeb interjects, “Please don’t touch that.” His shadow hands busy themselves, cleaning the marble table and readjusting the vase.

Claire lifts her hands in mock surrender and walks over to me, both of us shivering from the chill of the air leaking from the slowly closing portal. Its hum fades into a soft white noise.

She stops by the edge of an L-shaped sofa, scanning the room.

Zeb’s place is unusual, different from anything in Rust Town, and I suspect it's an anomaly in Leight City too. It's striking that someone of his status opts out of using standard tech wizardry—aside from his portal device. Given its slow closure and our rough arrivals, it’s a makeshift setup, likely crafted by Zeb himself.

“Not much for magical gadgets,” Zeb says.

I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing my sides for warmth, when suddenly a shadow creeps toward me, making Claire jump with a startled curse. The shadow climbs up my back, weaving into a thick, dark blanket that's unexpectedly warm.

"Cool," Claire mutters, her eyes wide as she watches the shadow envelop me. Claire shivers dramatically, exaggerating her discomfort a little.

"Wow, Zeb, do you keep it this chilly for special effects, or is it just eco-friendly decor?"

Zeb gives her a quick look, then eyes the shadows flitting across the walls, debating whether to call them over. Deciding, he casually flicks his hand, and a shadow detaches from the wall, transforming into a warm blanket that drifts over to Claire. She thanks him with a melodic, playful tone.

As we discuss how Simon located Bart, Zeb expresses his doubts while pacing the room. "I know you believe your father might still be alive, but there’s an inconsistency I can’t ignore," he says.

"Anyone sent to the Recycling Center is usually beyond saving—dead or nearly so. If your father is indeed there…"

He pauses, and I lean in, hanging on his every word. "He wouldn't have enough energy to reach out through the dream realm, let alone manipulate someone else’s dreams."

Claire's tone shifts to something more unusually serious. "Are you saying you think Simon might be lying to us?" she asks.

"Yes," Zeb answers bluntly. "Though he might not be aware of it."

Claire walks over to a monochrome bookshelf, pulls out volumes, and briefly scans them before a shadow whisks the book from her hand and replaces it on the shelf.

"The dream realm is a place where truth and deception merge, where genuine memories can be woven with illusions. It’s possible that Simon encountered a dream walker, but it may not have been your father," Zeb elaborates.

As we speak, my mind races. I understand that the recycling center isn't merely a garbage dump; it is a grim place where obsolete technology and spent souls are sent to be stripped down and repurposed. It is described as a kind of purgatory for both machines and minds, where every ounce of energy is extracted and repurposed into the energy field

The idea of Bart navigating the dream realm and Simon's encounter with it also nags at me. It suggests Bart might possess abilities previously unknown to us, hinting that the old saying "Rusties do not dream" might have layers we haven't uncovered yet. Reflecting on my unsettling journey through the portal, I wonder if their experiences in that shadowy passage might have revealed or triggered powers beyond my understanding.

And then there's Zeb, an enigmatic ally who appears precisely when we need assistance. My father has mentioned that Zeb could be crucial in saving him, which seems too timely to be a mere chance. However, I've learned to be skeptical of coincidences.

"You knew Bart," I state, approaching the darker side of the room where Zeb leans against the wall.

"He was the first freelancer I turned to for help when I got the Harnessing device," he responds, stepping away from the wall and walking towards me, his hands still in his pockets.

"He suggested I ask you to help decipher its functions. He headed to the temple alone; I never directed him there.”

"If Dad is trapped here, we need to rescue him," Claire declares, sinking heavily onto the sofa. "It doesn’t matter if he’s barely alive or… not." She runs a hand through her hair and lets out a weary sigh. "I need a smoke.”

“And I might be able to help you. But first tell me Ravenna, what you have discovered about the harnessing device” Zeb asks

Tapping the responsive fabric of my flexi-suit at the thighs, the compact harnessing device Zeb had given me earlier smoothly slides up from a concealed nano-pocket. As I place it on the center table, I activate my Omni-lens, its microscopic projectors aligning to broadcast my vision directly onto the surface in front of Zeb and Claire.

A projection screen emerges from my right eye, casting a soft blue light. The screen comes to life with analytical data, showing a mix of spectrum analysis along with thermal and electromagnetic readings. The soft blue from the Omni-lens throws long shadows across the room, accentuating the serious expression on Zeb’s face as he intently examines the data.

"You were right about the device; it's designed to channel energy towards a specific point, much like energy harnessing in NexTech equipment," I start.

Zeb looks up from the projections, meeting my gaze as I continue.

"It captures energy and directs it to a linked device. Similar to NexTech systems, it uses the user’s harnessed energy to power devices such as the Transit hub portals.”

“Do you know where the stolen energy ended up?” Zeb inquires.

"I’m still figuring that out. I'm tweaking my detector to increase its range. Hopefully, I can track where the energy goes when it’s harnessed," I answer, brainstorming possible adjustments.

"Why were only some people affected?" Claire chimes in suddenly.

"That’s the same question I’ve been wrestling with. But I have a theory," I reply.

"My research shows that those unaffected hadn’t used Emo-tech, while those impacted were using it at the time."

Except for Simon, he wasn’t operating any NexTech device, at least not that I know of. He confirmed the only tech he had was his MorphRing. It’s likely his symptoms were a byproduct of his attempt to open a portal.

"It looks like the incident was more complex than an energy shift from one person to another. Someone tampered with the NexTech's energy field, corrupting it,” Zeb concludes.

"Talk about bad vibes," Claire remarks.

A persistent question haunts me. "Who would need so much energy, and what for?"

"That's what we need to uncover," Zeb responds, "I'd advise against using any NexTech devices unless necessary."

His gaze is firm, his eyes locking onto mine as he adds, "Thank you, Ravenna,"

"You're incredible," he says, the corners of his mouth curling into a slight smile. My palms sweat, and a rush of warmth floods through me.

For a moment, I'm lost in his dark green eyes, their depth almost mesmerizing. Something about how he looks at me stirs a vague feeling of someone I once trusted, someone who offered me solace during darker times. As the shadow blanket loosens around me, a shiver of doubt crawls up my spine. Why do I find such comfort in his gaze, when I know he's woven from the shadows? This unsettling realization makes me hesitate, questioning if my feelings cloud my judgment when I need to be most vigilant.

Claire coughs slightly, pulling me to a corner of the room while giving Zeb a wary look.

"What's going on with you, Rav?" she asks quietly.

"What do you mean?" I respond.

"You're smiling," she whispers. I hadn't even noticed.

I shrug. "So?"

"You don't…smile. Remember, he's a mind shifter, like that muscle woman you fought earlier. He might be using his shadow mind tricks on you," she warns.

"Do you think I'd let a mind shifter mess with my head?" I ask.

"From what I've heard, you might not even realize it's happening," Claire counters.

"Well, I'm being nice..we need his help, remember?" I point out.

"And I plan to help," Zeb interjects suddenly, overhearing our whispered exchange.

Claire's eyebrows knit together as Zeb moves closer,” I assure you both, my motives are clear. Helping you aligns with my own goals as well. There are no….shadow tricks."

His jaw clenches as he continues, "The energy harnessing, your father's capture, my mother's death by depletion—they're all linked. I have to uncover the truth. I'm determined to avenge her and prevent this continent from spiraling into chaos.”

Zeb’s words hang in the air, and a heavy silence settles over us. I watch him, his jaw set in a hard line, his eyes ablaze with resolve, yet I sense no pain from his loss. He seems to gather his thoughts, his hands clenched at his sides. What truly drives him, is his quest to avenge his mom or something else. I want to say something, anything that might make him know that I trust him completely. My discomfort with emotional expression, usually a minor hindrance, now felt like a chasm between my intentions and capabilities.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Claire shifts uncomfortably beside me, her eyes darting between Zeb and me, sensing the tension around us. “So, what’s our first move?” she asks, breaking the silence that had begun to feel suffocating.

Zeb's lips curl into a sudden smile as he nears his portal device on the ground, his hands gracefully guiding the gathering shadows around him. "I think it's time for your induction tour."

Realizing his intent, I cut in sharply, "No, no more portals for today." I scan the room and demand, "Where's your door?"

He pauses, giving me a puzzled look, almost amused by my ordinary question. "Don’t need one," he says, manipulating the shadows that now slowly circle the mirror as he steadies his breathing.

"You need portals to move within the Temple," he explains. "Don’t worry, you’ll adjust to it." As he speaks, the temperature in the room falls, and a vortex begins to form, charging the air with energy.

"What about the time discrepancies? I don't want to end up hundreds of years in the future," Claire interjects, peering into the portal and rubbing her arms for warmth.

"You won't," Zeb reassures her as he prepares to jump. "Just don't dwell on the time travel aspect too much."

Claire stands at the brink of the portal, her reluctance clear. She looks back at me, eyes searching for reassurance. "We're sure this is the only way, right?"

"It seems like it," I reply. She nods and takes a deep breath to steady herself.

"Here goes nothing," Claire announces, then leaps through the portal with a startled yelp.

With a resigned sigh, I muster my courage and follow her lead, stepping into the unknown.

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The Temple is far more than a vast place of worship; it's a colossal floating island, its exact location veiled in secrecy. The complex serves as the hub for three major institutions:

The first, Leight University's Science and Meta Arts, specializes in training individuals to manipulate energy. Based on one's natural talent, students either become Tech Wizards or Vessels. Tech Wizards are groomed for roles at NexTech, where they help manage the energy field. Vessels, on the other hand, are dispatched to Nexalia, the central sanctuary within the Temple. They become acolytes of the Black Raven, rumored to engage in advanced practices such as interdimensional travel, though their exact duties remain obscure.

The second pillar, Nexalia itself, stands reputedly at the highest point in Leight. Considered the holiest site in Nexlism, it's a place every follower dreams of visiting. Rumors suggest that the barrier between this world and the dream realm is very thin, raising my curiosity about the potential effects on my MorphRing in such an energy-rich environment.

The third component is NexTech, a corporate entity that dominates the regional Nexus energy supply. They maintain an iron grip on energy manipulation technologies, ensuring they hold all the power while the populace gets only what they distribute. The energy recycling center, part of NexTech, is where energy is harvested from the deceased to be recycled back into the energy field.

Standing with Zeb and Claire, we peer into the fog-shrouded space around us. The mist is so dense I can barely see anything beyond Claire's silhouette next to me. All structures here are hidden, accessible only through portals known to insiders. This means I'm reliant on learning portal creation or Zeb's guidance for navigation—though I don't intend to linger in this fog-enshrouded land for long.

The atmosphere was tinged with a subtle hum, possibly from the energy fields that kept the island aloft, giving the place an otherworldly feel. Occasionally, faint voices murmured through the mist, hinting at unseen presences nearby.

Zeb's portal remained active, the edges crackling as tendrils of fog crept through the opening.

"This is why we use portals here" Zeb declared, his voice echoing in the dense fog.

"How do we find the recycling center?" Claire asked, her eyes scanning the misty surroundings warily.

"Dreamwalking," I realized aloud. Zeb nodded, confirming my guess, as we step into the swirling portal.

*************************************************************************************************************

As soon as we step out, the vibrant sounds of students bustling around the university grounds engulf me, starkly contrasting with the silence of the place we just left. We find ourselves in what appears to be a practice garden, where students are honing their skills. Many struggle with levitation, barely managing to stay aloft. Nearby, a group focuses on psychokinesis, attempting to manipulate stones around a crystalline pool. At the center of the pool, a black raven sculpture hovers, its eyes dark and reflective.

Curiosity piqued, I try to activate my detector to analyze the surrounding energies, but the omni-lens interface immediately emits a shrill beep and flashes a red warning: "Unauthorized technology, deactivate now." I exhale, momentarily forgetting Syph’s cautionary advice.

"Wow," Claire's voice pulls me back, her gaze fixed on the main building ahead. The structure, designed to mimic a human brain, stands impressively with its interconnected glass and steel. The left hemisphere sports a sleek metallic finish with opaque, box-like rooms, likely classrooms or labs. The right hemisphere showcases a fluid, artistic architecture, each room uniquely shaped.

"Welcome to Leight University," Zeb announces, leading the way toward the building. Claire and I follow, our eyes drawn to the lifelike holograms around us. These holograms, resembling flows of Nexus energy, occasionally solidify into various forms, mostly human. I reach out, a virtual black mist curling around my fingers, leaving a faint electrical tingling at my fingertips.

"I'm sure you find this view more appealing than the last," Zeb remarks, glancing back at us. Outside, the shadows are faint, yet he conjures makeshift sunglasses to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. We halt at the entrance, pausing our conversation.

"To infiltrate the Recycling Center, we need a portal of your design," he whispers, addressing both of us. "And you'll need a crash course in dream walking to locate your father from the dream realm."

The strategy sounds unclear at first but gradually forms in my mind: locate Bart, then craft a portal locked to the energy signature of his location. It sounds simpler than it likely is.

"We need to mine flexi-metal," I state.

"I could easily do it in my lab, but that's not an option right now," I add with a hint of frustration.

Zeb gestures towards the left side of the brain-shaped building. "We have a mining lab here. Just keep it under wraps. We don’t want anyone catching on to our plans."

Time is crucial, and mastering dreamwalking and constructing the portal device will take time. Yet, if we act now...

"I can handle the mining," Claire interjects confidently.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" I question her. While Claire has some experience with tech wizardry, she's never mined flexi-metal from scratch.

"Absolutely. I've observed you and Dad manage it plenty of times," she reassures me.

Trusting her becomes necessary if we're to reach Bart swiftly. "Okay. But be careful," I respond, meeting her gaze.

"The mining lab is in the left hemisphere," Zeb directs, pointing to the part of the building.

"Use any university portal and keep your destination in mind," he advises. "Contact me when you're done, and we'll pick you up," I add. Claire nods with a small smile and heads towards the entrance.

Zeb then turns to me. "Shall we?" he proposes, motioning towards the right hemisphere of the building.

"Need to get out of the Sun," he adds as we walk towards the structure.

*********************************************************************************************************

Zeb guides me to the right hemisphere, a quieter sector dedicated to training in Meta arts, where practitioners learn to manipulate energy without using flexi-metal as a conduit.

This part of the university stands in stark contrast to the lively university grounds and bustling central hallway—here, the corridors are nearly deserted, with only a sparse few individuals passing by, their expressions blank.

As we walk, Zeb explains that the culture in Leight, much like the masks we wear in Rust Town, is shaped by a pervasive fear of mind shifters. In Leight, displaying emotions is akin to inviting these mind shifters in, as they need some form of consent to manipulate someone's thoughts—and strong emotions are often enough for them to gain this access.

We enter a circular space surrounded by mirrors—some warp reflections, while others remain clear.

"This is one of the many meditation rooms where we sharpen our mental skills," Zeb explains. I notice the room seems brighter due to the mirrors efficiently bouncing the light around, leaving few shadows.

"To master dream walking, you'll need to develop 'the sight' without relying on your detector," Zeb instructs, walking around me. His tall figure dominates the mirror in front of us.

"'The sight' allows you to perceive energy flows, even in the ethereal realm, helping you locate anyone you're connected to," he explains, placing his hands gently on my shoulders. Unaccustomed to such closeness, I tense up and furrow my brow in confusion. Sensing my discomfort, Zeb lifts his hands slightly, still hovering near but motioning for me to sit.

"It's difficult to put into words," he continues, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror's reflection. "You'll understand once you see it for yourself." With a deep sigh, I sit in a lotus pose

"You don't need your eyes open; mastering 'the sight' works best with them closed," he says with a slight, knowing smile. "There are too many distractions," he adds, catching me off guard as I realize I've been staring. I let out a frustrated sigh and shut my eyes, and he chuckles.

With my eyes closed, the world around me quiets, and I focus on tuning out the ambient sounds. Zeb's presence is steady beside me, his occasional movements a subtle reminder that I'm not alone.

As a tech wizard, you're already attuned to the energy — that subtle, electrifying vibration that surrounds us," Zeb says in a soft tone.

I focus, his voice fading to a whisper. The darkness behind my closed eyelids seems to deepen, originating from the center of my forehead. It starts as a warmth, similar to sunlight lightly resting on my skin, and gradually intensifies into a tingling, electric sensation that spreads throughout my body.

"Now, concentrate on that feeling. Let everything else fade into the background. Picture the energy as a flowing stream or swirling smoke," he instructs. As I attempt to follow his guidance, he lightly taps my forehead.

"Focus, not tension. Don’t force it, just let it happen," he corrects gently. A smile flickers in my mind, recalling Bart’s teachings. I ease the tension in my forehead, allowing myself to settle more deeply into the sensation without strain.

I inhale deeply, holding my breath for a few seconds while visualizing the energy flow in my mind. As I exhale slowly, a pattern begins to emerge. Dark energy swirls around me within the engulfing blackness. "I can see it," I announce.

"Good," Zeb responds in a whisper, his tone suggesting he's aware of the change in my perception. "Now, follow it, let it guide you."

The next challenge is to let my consciousness merge with this energy, focusing intently on Bart. Zeb assures me he will remain by my side as long as necessary, but warns that I must maintain my concentration without wavering. The difficulty mounts as drowsiness threatens to overtake me, but I pull myself back to alertness. I have to stay awake but detached, a balance between consciousness and unconsciousness. I feel lighter unencumbered by the physical weight of my body and mind.

Gradually, the physical world dissolves into darkness. The electrifying sensation persists, accompanied by a faint ringing in my ears. I focus on Bart, summoning any memories I can, and the energy around me begins to react, pulsating and seemingly moving toward a destination. My pulse quickens as I follow the energy flow, rubbing my hands together to ward off the chill.

My heart palpitates as his words fade into the reverberates. I remember the person I saw when I first came to Leight. The chill and terror I felt as she called my name, asking me to let it in.

Slowly, the dark energy creates shapes—figures moving and talking as slivers of light filter through. The energy solidifies, and I find myself back in Rust Town, inside the abandoned airship we call home. Claire and Simon are arguing about Claire being excluded from another job involving stolen flexi-metal. Meanwhile, Bart is yelling outside my lab, demanding I turn off the lab’s soundproof system to stay alert for emergencies. These were simpler, mundane times—times I once found incredibly dull but now find myself longing for.

This is Bart’s memory, not in the present. I need to find him in his current location. I take a deep breath, trying to let my consciousness merge with the flowing energy. Abruptly, the air thickens, and the energy's movement becomes erratic. "Something is wrong," I murmur, a wave of panic rising. Zeb’s voice resonates, reassuring yet distant, "You’re fine, Ravenna. Keep your focus, relax."

Despite his guidance, my breathing grows shallow; dizziness overwhelms me, and the edges of my vision blur. Zeb's voice warps oddly, still insisting I'm fine. No, I need to escape. Compelled by urgency, my eyes fly open to meet a pair of piercing green ones staring intently at me. I sit up swiftly, scanning my surroundings—this isn't the training room's floor, but a bed in a rustic wooden cabin adorned with shelves holding books and bizarre devices.

Around me, advanced Neuro-Imaging Machines hum, and small holographic displays project dynamic neural networks and dream patterns. The room resonates with a steady, low hum from the quantum computers, occasionally interrupted by the whirring of cooling fans that cycle on and off as they handle streams of data. Secluded Sensory Deprivation Tanks loom ominously. Where am I?

"You gave me quite a scare there, little one a voice breaks through my confusion. Little one? I turn to face the speaker, and my gaze locks onto a face strikingly similar to Zeb’s but older, with short, unkempt hair and without any of Zeb’s distinctive piercings.

My surroundings spin slightly as I struggle to orient myself. Am I still dreamwalking, or is this a hallucination? I glance down at my hands—they're small, childlike. Confused, I use my altered voice to ask, "Who are you?"

The man raises his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips, "What an odd question. I am Zebidiah." He assists me to stand up. The wooden floor feels cold and hard under my feet as I step down, its uneven surface marked by the occasional splinter that pricks at my toes

"Let’s resume our training before she returns," he says as he guides me in front of a mirror. "You know how she gets."

I nod, as if understanding, and meet my reflection’s gaze in the mirror. The eyes staring back at me slowly turn pitch black, and its lips curl into an unsettling grin.