Sam's Dreamventures: The Century Feather

The ticket clerk gave him a look over. He’d been eyeing him since he joined the line for stratospheric ferry Alpha, twenty minutes ago.

 

The elf sighed out, stroking his rugged facial hair. “You’re goona have to pay... ehhhh--- triple, mistah. Fuel don’t come cheap. My apologies.”

 

Sam searched his pockets, hoping the guide that sent him had been generous with travel costs.

 

He was nervous the moment he heard about the world of airships and flying cities-- Machines built for flight always have tight constraints on space and weight. It wasn’t claustrophobia that made him anxious. It was that here, his size would be a true limitation. In his waking life, he had found various clever workarounds for daily living, like knee pads for kneeling to reach the operating table, or custom items like clothing and sturdy furniture, or simply avoiding the things in life that were too small for him. But there’s no workaround for gravity!

 

As the last inverted pocket turned up with only lint, the optimist within him wistfully admitted defeat. The “century feather” memorial pollination event would remain yet another beautiful, yet unobserved facet of this realm.

 

Impatient tapping caught his attention, and he realized, with embarrassment, that he had been keeping the ferryman waiting. “Oh..! Sorry!” He ruffled the back of his head. “I, uhm, don’t have enough, sir. Sorry.”

 

The elf simply shrugged off to the side, the steely expression on his face softening into a weary stare, and he watched the giant oddly closely as he exited the line. In the corner of his eye, the ferryman’s hand let go of something on his waist-- Oh my god, is that a gun? He sped up his retreat just a little bit.

 

Well, it was worth a try, he thought. It was times like these, where the physical limitations of reality stubbornly persisted into this repeating dream, that really made him wonder...

 

With no other options for the night, he lumbered over to the quiet port deck. Gloved hands placed delicately on the railings, he gazed up into the glittering airfield. There must have been thousands of ships up there, all carving their own dazzling, brilliant paths through this inhospitable planet’s cold skies. He could only wonder how the feather found its path here, too.

 

“Hello! Sir!! Hello, there! Down here, ho!”

 

He whipped around, startled. “H-hello?”

 

“Hell~O!”

 

It was a Paperdemon, dressed in a rather ornate captain’s uniform. They spread their massive wings and twirled their cap in a grandiose gesture before him that reminded him faintly of the mating rituals of a certain colorful species of jungle bird. With a contrasting hastiness, they returned to normal posture and jaunted closer, their attendants following. Trying to be as polite as possible, he crouched down to eye level.

 

“I am Captain Dahn, Captain of the Cold Advent. You seem to be... a robust individual, correct?” They announced, their bravado slightly muted.

 

“I--”

 

“EXCELLENT!” They glanced back at their company. “I have a good feeling about this one, fellows!” Swiveling back around, the demon adjusted their collar. “I noticed you had a bit of trouble getting in to the public ferry, good sir? I can provide you with fare for your travels...”

 

“--Oh..?” He wrapped his hands together demurely.

 

“--Yes, yes, but in exchange I must ask that you use that astounding brawn of yours to assist me with... A certain issue, yes...”

 

Dahn leaned in close, whispering: “You see, we have a little problem with... Constructs.”

 

“Ravaging.”

 

“My. Beautiful.”

 

“Ship.”

 

They were gripping the heavy fabric on his shoulders, now, weeping into his shawl. He felt the need to comfort them, and awkwardly laid a hand on their back. One of their crewmates shot Sam a look of sympathy, the other simply ran a hand down her face and stared straight forward. All three shared the same aura of fatigue and desperation.

 

While the captain remained inconsolable, the sympathetic one stepped forward. “It’s our home, stranger. We will compensate you generously for your time.”

 

“All you need to do is hold them still, while we--”

 

Dahn’s head shot up, full of rage. “TEAR THEM APART AND THROW THEM TO THE VICIOUS ROCK!” They buried their face back into his shawl. Sam felt their claws relax their death grip, somewhat painfully.

 

The crewmate sighed. “We’re going to reprogram them. Reprogram, Captain, Msr.” She returned her gaze to Sam. “The Beta-cognitive chips they have are priceless. Nobody knows how to make them anymore, stranger.” “And even if they weren’t, we can’t shoot them. Captain. Msr. Because. They. Explode. Captain, Msr.”

 

The demon’s elongated ear twitched and they shifted one of their wings slightly. He noticed it had been burned and healed over, likely several times, and also had a few more recent scrapes and lacerations that had been hard to notice from a few feet away.

 

The other crewmate finally lowered her palm from her face. “Yup.”

 

Underneath, the captain slowly raised their head. They looked up at him, tearfully, like a sopping wet, orphaned kitten.

 

“Will you... help us?”

 

With a slight hesitation, he replied. “Yes.”

 

He didn’t particularly like the idea of restraining an unwilling creature, destructive or not, while its mind was tinkered with, but if that robot was left to its own devices, everybody on that ship would be left without a home. Or worse... He looked up to see the mixture of tentative relief and overwhelming exhaustion on the crewmates’ faces, not unlike many of his patients after a surgical consultation. He knew he made the right choice.

 

And maybe he would get to see the pollination event, after all!

 

“Righty-O!” Captain Dahn appeared in front of him, suddenly back to regal form. The only evidence of their breakdown a few seconds ago was a big wet spot on their hired hand’s broad chest.

 

The demon twirled around and offered an elbow. “Follow me, my good-- Oh, my apologies! I don’t believe I asked for a name, good sir!”

 

The giant found himself having to take long strides to match the speed they were marching. “My name is-- whew!” He narrowly dodged a member of the increasingly dense crowd. “--Sam!”

 

“Sam~uel, hm? What a pleasant name!” “So, do (...?) special (...flowers? The feather, maybe?) (...pancake??) abilities (...?), hm?” The crowd’s noise continued to grow, and he kept having to blurt out apologies to the growing list of citizens they were now bowling over.

 

“You’re about to see the true (Avant-garde?), Samuel! Have a seat~!”

 

It took him a moment to register the sudden dark and quiet of the private ferry they were in. That whole experience was very overstimulating.

 

He caught himself about to park onto a chair that was vastly undersized for him, and sat on the floor, instead. Captain Dahn plopped down onto the seat next to him, their attendants following suit behind them.

 

“I don’t believe I obtained an answer from you back there! So! Do you happen to possess any... latent abilities? ...Magical powers?” They leaned in close, an eager look on their face.

 

“Oh..! Well...” A low whirring sounded off as the cabin began to accelerate. “I can, uhm, make a little glowing... light thing with my hands? And I think the sun heals me... I’m not entirely sure, though.”

 

“...Oh, ...marvelous..!”

 

They tried, unsuccessfully, to hide their wincing expression. He couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious. He was useful for more than his muscles... Right?

 

“Well! We’ll have no need for magic on this mission, anywho!” The vapor layer they were flying through suddenly faded away to reveal the cloud of airships around them. He sidled closer to the window, taking in the view.

 

“Ah, what a nostalgic sight.” Dahn slid in behind him. “We haven’t been able to join with the capital fleet in some time, now. The Cold Advent rests far out in to the Void Sea. ‘Tis the frigid grave of many a fine ship, my friend.”

 

He suppressed the image of himself plummeting through a weakened beam and thousands of feet down to the fractured surface. Unsuccessfully.

 

“--Why are you so far away? Couldn’t the capital provide you with more effective aid if you were closer..?” Sam wondered.

 

“No, my friend! We are in voluntary exile. It would be disastrous for a rogue construct of this threat to replicate within Soujel. Simply disastrous... Even worse, it would besmirch the honour of our beautiful ship...” The clutched their cap to their chest, shedding a single tear. “To think, the vessel tasked with neutralizing these dangerous rogues, a trojan horse, delivering certain doom upon her mother fleet...” They straightened out, voice cracking. “Unthinkable!”

 

Samuel ruffled the back of his head. He found this captain quite endearing, but he was beginning to find himself drifting off, and let out a long, rumbling yawn. “How long does it take to get there, Captain, Msr? I’d like to, uhm, be at my best when we arrive, and I’m a bit tired right now...”

 

“Please, call me Dahn!” They looked a bit bashful. In a quieter voice, they continued. “And yes, please rest. It will be a while yet before we arrive.”

 

The giant curled up in the slightly cramped footspace and yawned out a response. “Thank you, Dahn... Msr...”

 

It felt a bit personal to be calling this dream-character by their first name. He found himself wanting to be friends already.

 

It was convenient for him that the memories of these dreams seemed to suspend themselves out of the way of his waking life. That allowed him to truly embrace the vivid experience of it all.

 

~

 

His years of on-call duty made him a good sleeper. Feeling well rested, he was awoken by the demon knocking rhythmically on his shoulder like it was a wooden door.

 

“Up now, up! We have arrived, good sir! Up, up!” The captain ushered him out of the ferry.

 

It was still dark out when they emerged onto the Cold Advent’s empty deck, the cool glow of pre-dawn twilight just barely dusting the silhouette of the clouds populating the low horizon.

 

“How do you fare, good Samuel? I trust you dreamt peacefully in the cabin? You are quite quiet for your size, I must say!”

 

He yawned, smiling warmly. “Oh, I, uhm, ‘dreamed’ I had the day off! I went to the grocery store, picked up a few little treats for myself, hehe.” He patted his stomach, reminiscing on the savory taste of the spaghetti soup he made for himself during his “sleep”. It wasn’t often that he permitted himself to indulge in solid foods.

 

Dahn tilted their head slightly. “...Ah... I see...” Nobody but him seemed to be aware that this was fiction. Although, again, he wondered, is such a complex and consistent world really able to exist as a dream? What if this wasn’t really a dream after all? Then..?

 

The captain straightened out. “Well! No time for small talk! Let’s get right to it!”

They entered the cabin door and all three procured toolkits that were at the ready. He found himself standing awkwardly in the middle of the room as the professionals prepared their equipment. There was a quiet tension in the air.

 

Finished, captain Dahn stood up. “Madame Alsha, is the recursive declinator primed?”

 

The sympathetic attendant spoke up. “Yes, Captain, Msr.”

 

“Madame Islun, have you fully charged the synaptic calibrator?”

 

She responded, “Captain.”

 

“Righty-O,” they murmured. “Let us review the plan one final time.” They began gesturing, using their arms and wings as a makeshift diagram.

 

“We will all travel, together, towards the nearest radio signal. When we locate the construct, at my call, I will fire the radiolyser, and while it’s stunned, you, Sir Samuel...” They made a pronounced gesture towards him. “Will pounce on the foul creature and hold it still while Madame Islun registers its neural signature, and the moment the data transfers, Madame Alsha will deliver the declinator payload.” They lowered their wings and boomed, “Understood, crew?!”

 

They replied without hesitation. “Understood!” And the mission began.

 

Before he could even see the inner compartments of the vessel, he knew something was terribly wrong. The quiet windy ambiance of the upper deck was replaced by arrhythmic mechanical churning, the most prominent of which, a repeating gu-glunk, gu-glunk, gu-glunk, accelerating and slowing down erratically, like a heart struggling to beat. This ship was very sick.

 

He stood in front of the last ladder. The others had made it all the way down and were beckoning to him to continue, but looking at the thinness of the rungs gave him a nauseated feeling. Gulping one last time, he squeezed himself through the narrow opening and carefully proceeded down the ladder, positioning all six of his limbs on different rungs for the maximum possible surface area. Each step made the metal creak and groan, clearly at its limit.

 

Suddenly, he heard a horrible screeching noise as the metal frame crumpled. Holding on as tight as possible, he felt the whole thing fall and hit the ground, only opening his eyes when he felt a hand pat his shoulder. The sympathetic voice whispered: “You’re fine. We’ll worry about that later.”

 

Suppressing the shaking that overtook his body, he stood up and dusted himself off. He wasn’t even bruised.

 

The area was unlit, save for the light emanating from the now inaccessible square passage they lowered from, and a gaping hole where the light of dawn leaked through. The area it illuminated could only be described as “chewed”.

 

A cold draft flowed across the room.

 

Captain Dahn pointed a closed hand forward. “Ok, there is one up ahead. Careful, now...”

 

They proceeded slowly through the ruined passage, rusty flakes crinkling under their footsteps like metal leaves. The giant blew into his hands, trying repeatedly to kindle a light, but to no avail. He thought he heard the same rustling up ahead.

 

Suddenly, a shining, coppery construct rocketed out of the the corridor they were approaching, narrowly missing his head. Across the room, it perched on a wall, now completely still. The light from the hole reflected off of its metallic carapace. It looked a bit like a mudfish, with a stout, yet streamlined frame, two stubby arms, and an array of glistening fins decorating its spine.

 

The Captain unsheathed a-- was that another gun?! “Ready!”

 

A flash of red light filled the room for a split second, and the construct fell to the floor, twitching and bleeping in strange patterns. --Right! He had to grab it!

 

The group rushed over to the creature, with Sam firmly grasping it in two hands. It was unexpectedly warm, little vibrations and movements coming from inside of it, almost like a living thing. Instantly, Islun held a probe to what looked like its head. As the little green bars on the monitor filled out, the creature gradually stopped twitching.

 

“Get ready,” the attendant muttered, not a moment before the thing started writhing. It was enough to jostle the giant around. He was astonished at its sheer power, having to add two arms to its restraint, then one knee. The giant had never encountered a task that would require his full strength before! And it might not be enough, he thought, feeling the burning in his muscles starting to consume his thoughts. Another two hands joined the struggle, this time from the Captain.

 

The device lost contact with the beast several times as it bucked, pausing and resuming its reading. “Almost there..! Alsha, are you ready?!”

 

“Ready!” She barked.

 

Islun’s device let out a loud tone, and at that instant, the construct opened a valve on its tail and let out an incredible blast. In a second, Sam and the construct were whizzing around the room, bouncing on walls and pipes and stirring up the heaps of rust. Before he could process it, they were both flying out of the hole in the hull, into the void outside. He was now fully wrapped around the little construct, no larger than a domestic cat, as they screamed, quite literally, through the clouds.

 

~

 

When his senses returned to him, he was lying down with his belly on some kind of chilly metal surface, the sun shining on his back. Something was pressing up against his stomach, making him uncomfortable. He pushed himself upright to have a look.

 

...It was the construct from earlier. Oh no, did I..? He nudged it cautiously, flinching as it responded with a delayed, lethargic flop. Well, at least it’s still alive?

 

He stood up, smoothing the back of his head. Bitter winds blew across his face, almost canceling out the sun’s warmth.

 

Where am I..?

 

The sky was blue and empty; the Cold Advent was nowhere to be seen. Before him was a vast network of silver and copper machines, fragments, and frames, fanning out, waving up and down, and teeming with strange shiny little creatures.

 

The structure he stood on was not an airship. It was a metal ecosystem.

 

With no other options, and his curiosity slowly outweighing his fear, he carefully took a step forward. The ground seemed to sink slightly with his weight, like a grass island in a marsh. There was movement, life. Small bronze insects dashed back and forth, tending to the structure of the mat. They would land on him and skitter about, tapping their antennae on his body, and then on each other, analyzing and gossiping about this strange new creature on their drifting home. The mechanical chirps and bleeps they emitted sounded like birdsong.

 

He witnessed one construct glide into a hollowed out steam tube, carrying some kind of mechanical component inside. That must have been from an airship, or... is it the other way around, do the constructs make the materials for the airships? Maybe this habitat has a parasitic relationship with the rest of the machines on this planet? Or..?

 

...

 

He thought back to the story of the feather. Every century, or so the legends say, there was a great exchange of matter and information between construct islands-- In their old tongue, the word they used to refer to these sounds very close to “feather” in contemporary Common speech, hence the name.

 

When... (Aven-guard..?) was first populated by elves and paperdemons, they brought with them the constructs, and a number of genesis cores, so they could survive without the planet’s surface. The constructs created vast, spiraling islands in the sky with the genesis cores, and the people flourished alongside them.

 

But gradually, the cores failed, and with no material left to grow or power the islands, they slowly crumbled and fell to the lifeless surface.

 

When their islands sank, the people took to airships, traveling with the storms to chase the lightning that would be their only form of power for the next four hundred years. Only within the last century, when a stable portal was opened to the rest of the Paperverse, did a way to obtain new matter appear. Now, the new generations of people and constructs flourish, but the feathers are lost forever.

 

Every decade, now, they hold a memorial pollination event, where there is a similar exchange of culture and technology among the various factions and cultures of the planet. There’s also a big airship made entirely out of plants that blooms during the ceremony. That’s what he came for.

 

But it’s not so bad that he’s stuck on this island, right? Because if he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t have been able to experience this unique and interesting ecosystem!... And hypothermia.

 

...

 

The cold was beginning to sink into him-- he needed a reason to keep himself moving, so he started wandering towards the center...

 

~

 

Eventually, he found himself before a large, domed structure, curiously untouched by the denizens of the feather. Unlike the rest of the island, it was made of dark stone. Sharp shadows from the surrounding pillars and incomplete ceiling painted the ground in large, contrasting blocks. The ground was not smooth, and didn’t seem to be intended for walking. Instead, it was densely covered in a sprawling network of imprints: molds for gears, rods, plates, and numerous components that he didn’t recognize, all connected by thin channels that made it look almost like a circuit board. It was like a mix between a temple and a factory.

 

As he passed through the darkness, he felt weak. Heavy. Past the second and third set of pillars, the wind died down, until the chamber was eerily still and quiet. Save for a few ticks and scratches from the occasional lost construct, almost everything was coated in a thin, uniform layer of dust.

 

The structure in the middle was a huge, translucent orb that was almost as tall as him. It seemed dull, inanimate. Below its glassy surface, there was a dark cloud that gave the artifact a burnt appearance. The whole thing rested unevenly in a large vessel, shaped like a large bowl with flat-tipped prongs extending towards the sphere, and a hole at the bottom.

 

The whole room seemed to gesture to this point, and he was drawn to it. It wasn’t until he hauled himself up onto the orb that his cold-addled mind realized why: a massive lens was channeling sunlight directly onto the orb. It was warm. He was happy. For as long as he wanted, he simply sprawled out on that ancient relic, like a lizard sunning itself on a rock.

 

But eventually, for some reason, his hands became covered in some kind of dry, irritating dust. He hated the feeling of dirt and dust in his hands. It was overwhelming.

 

To his chagrin, he realized it was in his clothes, too. Everything that was touching that thing was absolutely contaminated. Wasn’t it completely clean, earlier? He slid off the object, wanting to get a better look at it.

 

It was caked in some kind of dull material, ranging from gray, to earthy brown, to greenish-blue. Attempting to wipe a mirror to its crystal surface, he watched as a flake broke off and slid smoothly into the hole.

 

Where did that come from..? Puzzled, he placed a hand on the window he made. And saw it glow. The huge object shivered and he recoiled as motes of dust appeared and coalesced on the surface. Matter can’t come from nothing! That’s one of the primary physical laws...

 

...At least at home...

 

A slight, but noticeable heat began radiating from the encrusted sphere. The matter shell continued to expand, causing more chunks to break off and accumulate in the bowl. After each fracture, the subtle embers below the crystal surface were briefly visible.

 

It smelled like metal. The electronic chatter that had been all but muted before, subtly joined the orb’s low humming. One particular song found itself in the echoing temple, a rhythmic bo-beep-buu that steadily increased in tempo, and moments later, its source glided into the room.

 

The construct landed on a pillar briefly, gaining height before making one last leap over to the orb, just shy of his head. Now silent, it tapped its head on the artifact’s shell several times. Briefly, it froze. And then, a hatch on its body opened, revealing its mouthparts, a series of drills, piston hammers, and mini scoops, and it sampled the surface cautiously. After ingesting a thumbprint-sized flake, it lied still. The tiny lights on its body flashed in mesmerizing patterns as it processed, until, abruptly, it erupted in high pitched vibration and began a new song, like cricket chirping, as it energetically pecked at the crust being generated beneath it.

 

Other constructs like it began flowing into the chamber, each perching on a different part of the shell. It looked so natural, like a long-dormant instinct seamlessly returned to action. The constructs, and the... orb.

 

Suddenly, a switch flicked on in his head. He was almost embarrassed he didn’t put it together earlier.

 

This is a genesis core...

 

--And that means, this is a feather..!

 

Suddenly, familiar voices joined the soundscape.

 

“Samuel, good chap! We’ve come for you!!” The demon dashed around the corner, rushing forward with frightening speed. Before he had a chance to respond, they collided with him in a full body hug.

 

“Captain Dahn...”

 

“Samuel! Are you well?? How are you not frozen out here?! --Brr..!” He could feel the demon shivering slightly, despite being wrapped in several layers of clothing.

 

It was the sun. It must have been.

 

“Quickly, we must return to the ship..! The foul creatures are already flocking to dismantle and drag her to this... wretched hive! But they don’t know I have... THIS!”

 

The captain brandished a small spherical device, completely smooth except for a crease between the two hemispheres and a socket at the top. It was ominously simple compared to the usual steampunk clutter in this world’s technology.

 

He didn’t even notice Islun before she slipped in from behind them and placed the declinator into their waiting palm. Dahn looked down as they tinkered with the two objects. “Get ready to run, now...”

 

“Wait, what is that..?”

 

“Pulse amplifier.” Islun stated. “Can’t eat our ship if their circuits are fried.”

 

A feeling of dread pooled in his stomach. “I thought you had to bring them back... alive?”

 

The demon’s head snapped up, a frantic look in their eyes. “This is a bigger problem now! Once they finish our ship, they’ll migrate to other vessels, then fleets, then the capital! Here we have the opportunity to stop this, now!”

 

With the declinator attached to their weapon, they held the two halves and prepared to twist.

 

“Wait!” Arms spread, he planted himself firmly between the demon and the core.

 

“This place is alive! It has a right to exist!” His booming voice echoed through the chamber, startling constructs to leap off of the now sparsely coated orb.

 

“Didn’t you hear what they just said, landworm?! This abomination is built out of our homes! They can’t even survive without dragging us down to our graves!”

 

“But you’re wrong! I can show you--” He thrust a hand onto the giant artifact, trying to ignore the dusty grit working its way into the creases of his hand.

 

The captain hesitated, but the darkened look on their face told Sam he had failed.

 

“Captain..! The ship--!”

 

They gasped, turning around to see Alsha sprint into the chamber, covered in scuffs and bruises. She doubled down with her hands on her knees for a moment to catch her breath. Dahn and Islun rushed over and leaned in.

 

“Alsha, what happened?!” They fumbled with their device awkwardly, adjusted their grip so they were holding one half with a wing, and then offered the free hand to their crewmate.

 

She shook her head, wincing. “...Too... many-- It’s-- Gone--”

 

The message was received instantly. Islun wore a brief look of shock and pain on her face before standing up and cussing under her breath. “For a landworm...”

 

Dahn crouched down, letting the device touch the floor and his free hand ball up into a fist.

 

They all stared at the weapon, with the shared understanding that if they exterminated the island now, they would sink to their deaths with it.

 

“I don’t care anymore, Dahn, fire it.” Islun faced away.

 

“No-- Captain, Msr, there-- ought to be enough scrap here to create a distress signal, then another ship could rescue us--” Alsha trailed off. “Another... ship...”

 

“It’s alive...” He repeated, placing another hand on the core. “This thing creates matter... They won’t have to eat ships anymore..” His voice was meek, not expecting to be heard. But Captain Dahn was listening.

 

“Samuel...”

 

“You believe that’s a genesis core.” They were still looking at the amplifier. “And it’s working?”

 

“It’s...” The last solid plate of material slid off of its surface, into the bowl were a few patient constructs were waiting. There was clearly something missing.

 

“Not.. quite, but--”

 

“I will... place my hopes in you.”

 

He nodded. “Thank you, Msr...” Climbing up on top of the orb once again, he lied down and tried to repeat the steps that worked before.

 

They looked up at him quizically. “What... What are you doing, good chap?”

 

“I’m... I don’t know, this is... how it started..?”

 

“Hmm...”

 

“...”

 

“Aha! Eureka!”

 

He looked down, confused. “Excuse me..?”

 

“Yes! I have it now! You said you possess an elemental affinity towards the sun, correct!?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You must be a magical conduit! Perhaps solar energy is being channeled through you, into the crystal!”

 

“I--I guess? Oh..!” He shook a clump of metal from his hands. “It’s working!”

 

“Yes, yes!” Captain Dahn shot up, leaving their gizmo on the ground. “Good show..!”

 

Back to their energetic self, they paced around, analyzing the structures around the room. “Ah!” They squeaked, looking at the lens above the giant. “I can assist you..! Madame Alsha, Islun! Away with me!” They perked up, leaving him alone.

 

Soon, the brief silence was washed away by the bleeping of constructs returning to the core, and then loud tapping that startled him and made him look upward.

 

Captain Dahn was enthusiastically gesturing to their attendants, their words completely blanked out through the thick glass. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on-- something? He was trying to be as... magical as possible, right now. Whatever that meant.

 

Suddenly, he felt the sunlight on his back intensify. Beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable, he sat up and placed two of his hands on the dusty surface, feeling his breath grow hot. Hope... that’s what popped into his mind, and that’s what he would concentrate on. As the heat magnified, he removed the gloves on his secondary hands and placed them on the orb, too.

 

He heard the songs of the constructs around him. And somehow, in between the rhythm of their notes, the machines were whispering. Of ancient memories, rituals, loss, endurance, and revival. A sunset and a sunrise.

 

Something was growing inside of him. He felt like he needed to--

 

Leave a little part of himself here.

 

It felt right. He blew softly into his hands, folded together in front of his face, and when it was done, he slowly unfurled his fingers--the light and shape, like a miniature sun rising out of a lotus blossom. He cupped his hands over it and gently lowered it into the orb.

 

...

 

Suddenly, the room began to rumble, and the ground he was sitting on grew very hot. He scrambled off the awkward spherical surface, and backed away slowly.

 

The glow of the genesis core was visible now, even from outside of its thick shell. Constructs that had been contentedly feasting on it quickly bailed. It was rising, centering itself in its vessel. White hot, the shell drooped down into the bowl, melting the pieces left there.

 

“Oho, boy, you’ve done it!!” The three returned just in time to witness the molten metal spread through the first molds, decorating the foundry floor with the gradient of warm hues it had not known for centuries. The pulse amplifier and declinator, left on the ground, sparked and fizzled out as it fused with the metal current.

 

With the smell of molten metal, thousands of various constructs flooded the chamber. Their intense chatter almost sounded like cheering as they plucked fresh implements from the floor as they cooled and whisked them away to whatever projects that were now possible for them. Starting anew like nothing was lost.

 

They held hands, fighting their way out of the densely populated chamber, until they were safely outside again. The Cold Advent’s half-eaten hull, now completely ignored by the constructs, was waiting for them, firmly planted into the feather’s landscape. She had completed her mission.

 

Alsha spoke up.

 

“Let’s all get some rest. There’s still hot chocolate.”

 

~

 

After he stepped off the ferry, the Advent trio stuck around the back door, hesitating to say goodbye.

 

“Oh Samuel, we shall truly miss you! We wish you good luck in your travels, many fortunes, yes, ...health! Can’t forget healt-- Mmph!”

 

He squeezed the demon with all of his arms. They leaned into it.

 

“Thank you for sharing your adventures with me.”

 

“Take care of the feather.”

 

“Mmh--! Yes, yes we will, good friend!” With that, he slowly released them from his grip, the demon gasping for breath. Oh no, was I hugging him too hard..?

 

“Alright, lovahs! You goona pay extra for my missed schedule or what?!” The ferryman shouted at them. He was on a tight schedule, after all.

 

Well, that was it. There was a bittersweet scent of finality in the air that he breathed in deeply. Somehow, he knew, he would never see them again. He didn’t like goodbyes. ...There I am again! Treating this like it’s real!

 

...No...

 

...It’s impossible to know this isn’t real, he concluded, dissatisfied.

 

Besides...

 

That piece of me is still there. I can feel it.

 

As the shuttle doors closed he waved his friends goodbye, and once more, the vessel lifted off into the limitless skies of Avangard.