“On three,” his father said, his voice taut with anticipation. “One… two… three!”
Lowe activated the core, his fingers trembling as he flicked the switch. A surge of energy pulsed through the garage, and the air around them crackled with tension. The weight trembled, and for a moment, nothing happened. Lowe’s heart sank, a fleeting doubt gnawing at the edges of his confidence.
Then, with a sudden burst of energy, the weight lifted off the ground, hovering a few inches above the concrete floor. Lowe’s breath caught in his throat, a mixture of awe and disbelief flooding his senses. It floated there, suspended in mid-air, as if the laws of gravity had suddenly bent to their will.
“Look at that!” his father exclaimed; his eyes wide with amazement.
Lowe’s heart soared as he gazed at the floating weight, the thrill of success surging through him like a tidal wave. “It’s incredible,” he whispered, taking a cautious step closer. The air shimmered around the weight, a faint distortion that hinted at the power of the antigravitational field they had created.
But just as the moment settled into triumph, a flicker of instability rippled through the core. The weight began to wobble, the shimmering field fluctuating as if struggling to maintain its hold.
“Steady now!” his father shouted, his voice echoing with urgency. “We need to stabilize the flow!”
Lowe’s hands flew over the controls, adjusting the settings in a frantic dance as he felt the Aether swirling chaotically around them. Sweat beaded on his brow, the thrill of creation now laced with the fear of failure. “I’m trying! Come on, hold!”
The weight wobbled precariously, and just as Lowe felt he was gaining control, a burst of energy surged from the core. The weight shot upward, crashing against the ceiling with a resounding clang, sending a shower of dust raining down upon them.
“Watch out!” his father shouted, ducking to the side as the weight fell back to the ground with a heavy thud. The garage trembled, the sound echoing like thunder in their ears.
Lowe’s heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears as he scrambled to regain control. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know, I know!” his father interrupted, his voice steadier than Lowe felt. “Just breathe. We learned something important. It can lift, but we need to find a way to manage the energy output.”
Lowe took a deep breath, the taste of metal lingering in the air as he steadied himself. “Right. We can refine the output, add a feedback loop to regulate the Aether flow?”
“Exactly!” His father smiled, the flicker of hope igniting once more in his eyes. “Let’s get to work on it. We can’t let this setback discourage us.”
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Lowe nodded, feeling the weight of his father’s words settle within him. They dove back into the intricacies of the Flying Core, adjusting gears and recalibrating the conduits. The air hummed with energy, the workshop alive with the sounds of their labor—the rhythmic clinking of tools, the soft whir of machinery, and the occasional burst of laughter as they navigated the challenges before them.
Just as they were beginning to see progress, the comforting aroma of stew wafted through the garage, mingling with the metallic scent of their work. It was a familiar scent, one that brought with it memories of family dinners and laughter around the dining table.
“Lowe! Pascal! Time for a break.” Lowe’s mother called from the house, her voice warm and inviting. The sound wrapped around him like a soft blanket, a reminder of the nurturing atmosphere that had always enveloped him in this home.
“Mom, we’re in the middle of something!” Lowe replied, glancing up from the core, where it glowed softly, the Aether flowing steadily now. He felt torn between the thrill of discovery and the warmth of family.
“Just a quick break!” she insisted. “Also, a guest is waiting for you.”
Lowe exchanged a glance with his father, who wiped his brow and nodded. “Let’s take a breather. We can always come back to this,” he said, his voice filled with a sense of understanding that transcended words.
“Alright, let’s go see who it is,” Lowe replied, feeling a twinge of curiosity. He stepped away from the workbench, the cool air of the garage a stark contrast to the warmth that enveloped him as he made his way toward the house.
As he entered the kitchen, the comforting aroma of stew grew stronger, blending with the scent of freshly baked bread. His mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot with an air of effortless grace, her movements fluid and practiced.
“Who’s the guest?” Lowe asked, his eyes scanning the room.
“Just a moment,” she said, a playful smile dancing on her lips. She turned to the doorway, calling out, “You can come in now!”
Lowe’s heart raced as he recognized the voice that answered—a soft and warm tone that resonated like a familiar melody. “Hey, Lowe.”
Aran stepped into the kitchen, his presence filling the space with an energy that set Lowe on edge. The young man’s dark hair was tousled, and his eyes sparkled with determination. He wore a rugged jacket, the fabric slightly worn but still sturdy.
Lowe’s stomach fluttered, excitement and apprehension dancing within him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” Lowe moved forward, enveloping his friend in a quick embrace, the warmth of their camaraderie wrapping around them like a shield.
“I figured it was about time we got you back into action,” Aran said, a grin spreading across his face. “I hope you’re ready for some adventure.”
“What’s the plan?”
Aran’s expression shifted, seriousness creeping into his features. “We have a mission to track down Kyrie. Völundr believes he could be in danger, and he needs our help.”
Lowe felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him at the mention of their task. The anticipation of heading into the wild, to confront the unknown, ignited a fire within him. “I’m in. Just let me grab my things.”
“Not so fast!” his mother interjected; her voice filled with playful authority. “First, you both need to eat something. A mission or whatever on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea, is it?”
“Mother!” Lowe protested, but Aran chimed in, the glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Actually, I could use a bite to eat. I’m hungry.” He flashed Lowe a grin.
With a resigned sigh, Lowe relented. “Alright.”
They gathered around the kitchen table, the hearty stew steaming in bowls before them. The clatter of utensils mingled with laughter, and for a moment, time stood still.