Dellen sat in his father’s study and thought about what his goals should be.

The city was going to explode in about a week. He needed to figure out where the bombs were, who was placing them, and how to stop them. His fingers drummed atop the desk. Like before, he needed more information, but this time, he wouldn’t waste time in his family library.

“Do you think I need to personally stop the bombs or just have them stopped?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Dellen said, thinking back to the explosions that went off from all directions. “There were a lot of bombs. I don’t think I can get to all of them, and I don’t know where they are, other than knowing some of the cogs that fell, but realistically, they’d need to be under the city.” He made a vague scooping gesture with his hand. “On or around the supports.” He shook his head, “I don’t quite know what the undersides of the cogs look like.” He was overstating his knowlege, he had no idea what the undersides of the cogs looked like.

“Go on.”

“Well, let’s say I know exactly where each cog is sabotaged; how am I even supposed to get there? How do you get under a cog?”

Gilgamesh let out a dissatisfied grumble. “That is a problem. Who does the city maintenance? Do they take airships or carriages there?”

“I don’t know. How certain are you about this time loop?”

“Completely,” Gilgamesh said.

“Alright,” Dellen said, “If you’re right about this, I have about a week before I’m surrounded by fire again, and if you’re wrong, well, then I spend a week worried over nothing.”

Dellen picked up a quill, and wrote a detailed threat to the city, and then copied it four more times.

“What are you doing with those?”

“I’ll seal them, send them into the broadsheets, and see if it helps.”

“You think you’ve been given a second chance to… write some letters?” Gilgamesh said.

“If you have a better idea, I’m listening.”

“Go to law enforcement! Tell them what’s coming!” Gilgamesh said, voice getting louder.

“And explain it how?”

Dellen flattened his hands on the table and looked at Gilgamesh, “You weren’t there; it was less than an hour ago for me. There was smoke, fire, screaming, and a lot of people falling to their deaths. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to fix this in one try.”

He looked at his hands. “I climbed myself raw; blood dripped from my fingertips to my elbows and up to my shoulders. I broke a leg. If that’s what’s coming, I need to be stronger.” He looked at his hands again. “Much stronger. This time around, we’re just writing letters.”

“Are you doing anything else?” Gilgamesh asked, his tone implying that if he had hair, and hands, he would be pulling his hair, with his hands.

“Absolutely, I’m extending my search outside of the family library. Next time, if there’s a next time, I don’t intend to be so helpless.” Dellen rose from his seat.

“I’m going to a library.” He said to Gilgamesh.

“What library? Where?”

“The Aetheric Cultivators. Come on, let’s go.” Dellen said.

Dellen stood atop the highest roof of his family estate, his eyes fixed on the horizon as he waited for the small airship to approach. The wind whipped around him, tugging at his clothes and causing his hair to dance wildly. He felt a sense of exhilaration and anticipation as he watched the four-passenger carriage draw closer.

The carriage touched down with a gentle hum, and Dellen took a moment to admire its design. It was a sleek and elegant vessel, an open design with brass fittings and polished wooden panels. The large translucent Aether-charged balloons above it rippled from the hot steam contained within. A pair of mechanical wings at the sides flapped in sync with the wind, providing stability.

The carriage driver was a tall, lean man, dressed in a worn, but finely tailored coat and hat. He offered Dellen a polite nod as he disembarked and extended a gloved hand to help him aboard.

“Good day, sir,” the driver said, his voice crisp and clear. “Where might I be taking you this afternoon?”

“Please take me to the Aetheric Cultivators.”

“Does sir have an invitation? I hear that they can be unwelcoming to uninvited guests.”

“I believe I can manage that part.” Said Dellen.

The driver raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Very well, sir. The Aetheric Cultivators’ it is.”

The carriage ascended into the sky, and Dellen felt the wind grow stronger, pressing against his body. Their journey meandered almost as much as his path with Toby as they navigated around larger ships and the occasional flock of mechanical birds or airborne squid.

Dellen gripped the railing and watched the cityscape unfold beneath him. He couldn’t help but marvel at the ingenuity of the mechanism below and the ever-changing city beneath.

He frowned; the view up here was different. From on foot or from his balcony, he saw the city and its marvels, but up here, he could also see the sheer scale of everything, the largest cogs were over a mile in diameter, even the most impressive buildings shrank to insignificance on them.

Then, there was the sharp divide between the city and the land beyond. Shining cogs, dotted with verdant parks and even farmland, gave way to rock. A several thousand-foot thick rim of dead wilderness surrounded Copperopolis. Trees bleached white by the sun stood alone, the remains of a petrified forest standing guardian between the city and the still-living land beyond.

The carriage driver spoke, bringing Dellen’s attention back to the immediate. “Here we are now, sir.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

They approached a colossal airship, Dellen couldn’t help but be awestruck by its sheer size and intricate design. It was a conglomeration of broken hulls fused together. It hovered stationary above the ever-shifting city below.

As they neared the airship, a figure emerged, propelled by an impressive, albeit crude, frame that leaked steam. He pulled closer, and Dellen could see that steam billowed not just from the suit, but also from rips in the steelskin of the aetherforged himself. He was difficult to hear over the whistle of escaping air, but his hand gestures were clear enough as he pointed at a small dock.

Upon landing, Dellen was met with a reception that could generously be described as lukewarm.

“Why are you here?” the steam-leaking aetherforged asked.

“I’d like to visit your library.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound friendly.

“I wish to have a greater understanding of aetheric affinities and how to forge myself. I see that you’ve enjoyed no little success in that area.”

The man exchanged a glance with his colleagues, and smiles appeared on their faces. “Participate in one of our experiments to prove your worth and your commitment to the pursuit of knowledge and excellence; if you succeed, you’ll have access to the initiate level of our library.”

The initiate level. Dellen hid the frown of annoyance that wanted to march across his face. “Very well, I’ll participate in your experiment.”

“Excellent,” the man said, his smile growing wider, “You can call me Tristan.”

Minutes later, Dellen looked on as Tristan, the steam aetherforged, strapped him into a chair. The chair was made of rough but sturdy wood; what it lacked in elegance, it made up for in intimidating sturdiness.

Dozens of thick, heavy wires ran from switches on the walls, along the floor to the chair.

Additional wires rand along the ceiling, reaching a central point above Dellen’s head, running down to him in a bundle.

They’d already removed his boots and replaced them with metal cuffs, attaching him to the chair at the ankles and his wrists.

“Are you sure about this?” Asked Gilgamesh.

Dellen ignored him, lifting his chin so Tristan could put a cuff around his neck. “What do you use for those whose affinity is not for Electrical Aether?”

“Each affinity requires its own special setup.” Said Tristan, “You should feel lucky; the equipment for other affinities can be difficult to calibrate properly.”

Dellen took in the walls that were almost obscured by dials, wires, and switches. “How do we start?”

“You stay there; we’ll be over here.”

“Should I be concerned that none of you use Electrical Aether?”

“It’s standard practice for the tester to not share their affinity with the tested; it’s to prevent the, admittedly unlikely, fallout from resonance feedback.”

“And why are there so many of you in here?”

Tristan shrugged. “It’s not often we get a noble interested in exploring our arts. This is more often a path taken by those with nothing to lose and desperate for a fingernail of control in their lives. People unafraid of pain.”

Dellen nodded. “I’m not afraid of pain.” He made prolonged eye contact with Tristan. “Are you ready to flip that switch?”

Tristan and his assistants pulled goggles over their eyes. “This is your last chance to back out.”

“Begin.”

Tristan reached up to an enormous switch, the handle was as long as Dellen’s forearm, and from the way Tristan used two hands to move it, it was stiff.

The switch moved and groaned, falling into place with a clang that echoed through the room.

A faint current of Electrical Aether fed along the wires into Dellen’s body. The contact was a mild buzz on his skin. Maybe it would have felt like more to the average unforged, but to Dellen, it felt like a few drops of water on his tongue after a day in the hot sun. “Is there something the matter with the device?” Dellen asked.

“Sorry, there should be Electrical Aether flowing into you right now,” Tristan said, sounding confused. “Perhaps there’s a loose connection somewhere.” He looked away from Dellen and turned his head in all directions.

“I can feel it,” Dellen said. “It’s just minor.” He considered. “Very minor.”

“Look at the meters.” One of the assistants said. “He’s getting the proper load.”

“That’s not possible,” Tristan muttered.

“Can you turn it up?”

Tristan’s response was sharp. “What?”

“Can you turn it up?” Still bound at the wrists, Dellen pointed with an index finger. “Surely, amongst that wealth of dials and switches, there is a way to increase the flow.”

“There is.” Tristan hesitated, “But we don’t do that for initial tests.”

Dellen gave that the consideration it was worth. “Show me what you’ve got. Crank one of those dials.”

Tristan gave him a longer look; then he put his hand on the dial. “I’m going to move you up a notch. This will increase the load by ten percent. Are you sure you want to do that?”

Dellen wasn’t sure he’d feel something as minuscule as a ten percent increase. “Do it.”

Tristan made a minor adjustment to the dial.

Dellen felt no increase. “You’re going to need to do more than that. Keep going until I ask you to stop.”

He and Tristan shared another long look. Then Tristan put his hand on the dial and moved it forward with glacial slowness.

Dellen felt the faintest of hums. “The sensation of Electrical Aether progressed from very minor to minor. “Keep going; I’m just starting to feel a noteworthy amount.”

Tristan shared a look with the other Aetheric Cultivators in the room. “I’m not sure if we should.” Dellen cut him off. “Turn that dial.”

This felt familiar; it felt more familiar than anything had since he woke up broken and burnt in The Refinery.

Being in a laboratory, air heavy with Aetheric Energy, trying something new, it was exhilarating.

Tristan turned the dial.

A warmth spread from the cuffs around Dellen’s ankles up his legs, from the cuffs at his wrists up his arms, and from the cuff at his neck up to his eyes and down to his Spark Core. It was a pleasing warmth, like a warm drink on a cold day. Familiar, comforting.

“Increase that dial.”

“We’re at five times normal for a first test,” Tristan said.

“Keep going. This is just a tender caress.”

Tristan turned the dial.

The warmth intensified, and lines of power ran through Dellen’s body. He exhaled; it was a sensation of raw enjoyment. “I can feel the pathways of Aether lighting up.” The Electrical Aether tried to run amok, spasming his muscles, trying to burn his bones and sear his organs. He reined it in. It felt almost practiced. He knew he’d done this before. His tongue ran across his teeth; he felt energy dancing from tooth to tooth.

“Keep turning that dial he said.”

The intensity increased.

Electrical Aether spilled from its pathways into his flesh. Bolts of energy danced within his cuffs, thunderstorms between him and the steel. Dellen controlled the flows. Within the cuffs, the field of bolts became single focused beams.

“Turn that dial.”

The Aether thundered within him; energy cascaded through his joints, exposed flesh shone orange.

“We should stop here,” Tristan said.

“More. Power.” Dellen said. “More. Power.”

“We can’t,” Tristan said.

“I’m forging,” Dellen said. “Give me more! I need more!” He took a breath. “Give me more!” He roared.

The intensity of the flow ramped up, his skin took on the glow of coals from a fire, brilliance intensifying.

He was out of the time stream and standing upright on a railed balcony with the landscape spinning by at an idle pace.

“Well.” A voice huffed. “That was most irregular, most irregular indeed.”

“Wait, we’ve looped again. Did you just kill yourself in a chair? What is wrong with you?”

Dellen looked at Gilgamesh. “Again.”

Less than an hour later he found himself strapped in a chair with aether flowing through him. This time he felt the moment his forging slipped out of control.

He was out of the time stream and standing upright on a railed balcony with the landscape spinning by at an idle pace.

“Well.” A voice huffed. “That was most irregular, most irregular indeed.”

“Wait, we’ve looped again. Did you just kill yourself in a chair, again? What is wrong with you?”

Dellen looked at Gilgamesh. “Again.”

Less than an hour later he found himself strapped in a chair with power flowing through him. The Aether began to slip out of control, but he predicted the hiccup in his flow, the moment it was going to break free, caught it and redirected it. “Turn up the flow.” Electrical Aether seared through him, branching fern shaped scars rose on his skin. Power burned through his eyes.

He was out of the time stream and standing upright on a railed balcony with the landscape spinning by at an idle pace.

“Well.” A voice huffed. “That was most irregular, most irregular indeed.”

“Wait, we’ve looped again. Did you just kill yourself in a chair, again? What is wrong with you? This isn’t safe, this isn’t sane. You’re burning through loops in hours, not days; we don’t even know how long the loop is yet.”

Dellen looked at Gilgamesh. “Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”