The heat radiating off the Arstra became almost unbearable, filling the air with a sharp hiss. Tendrils of raw energy licked across the surface, reforming and reshaping the armor in real time. This wasn't something Astiron could do—he knew that much. The Arstra was far too stubborn for anyone with mere ascendant abilities, no matter how powerful, to mold. No, he'd sought help from something far more potent, a force that bordered on the deific. That's how he got it to work in the first place. But this?
This was beyond him.
Elysium's voice cut through the chaos, [You built the Arstra. You linked it to the boy. But I don't think you gave much thought to what came next, did you? You didn't plan for how you'd update it.]
Astiron's silence spoke volumes, though his thoughts churned. Of course, he'd thought about it—constantly. It had been gnawing at him from the moment the Arstra was completed. He hadn't wanted to tamper with it, not when the result had turned out so well. But he had no idea how he was supposed to maintain something made of the most stubborn materials in the universe.
[The thing is,] Elysium continued, with a hint of smugness, [it's not just the armor that's outdated. Both the hardware and the software are more than four centuries behind. I get that you did what you could with the tools you had. But seriously—thrusters? Thrusters, Astiron?] Elysium's voice crackled with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, [Come on. That's ancient tech even by my standards, and I've been around a while.]
Astiron's forehead pulsed with irritation. His thoughts scrambled between justifying his work and the absurdity of being lectured like this. Yes, it's outdated. But in my defense, he thought, it's not like upgrading became easier after I became the most wanted man in half the systems. Thieving isn't exactly a viable option when everyone considers you a bonafide terrorist.
But he swallowed his retorts, unwilling to rise to the bait. He needed to keep his cool, or his Avatar might suffer a stroke from how worked up he was getting. A minor stroke, but still. Instead, he took a deep breath and thought of happy thoughts.
Speaking of which...
"Why are you doing all this, Elysium?" Astiron asked, his voice deceptively calm. "You've known the boy for what? An hour? I know you're supposed to be the 'grandfather figure' in all of this, but you seem awfully attached to him. Why?"
Elysium's reply was immediate, though there was a playful edge to it. [And you're not? You've known him for a couple of hours at most, and you're already doting over him like a father. Don't think I didn't notice.]
Astiron frowned, but he had no real comeback to that. Because... well, it was true. He was attached to Aedhira in a way that went beyond creator and creation. He felt a strange pride for the boy, something more familial than professional.
Elysium's voice shifted, softening ever so slightly. [Look, Astiron, I get it. He's your masterpiece. Your penultimate creation. But that's not all there is to it. He's… different. Special. And not just because of what he is. You feel it too, don't you?]
Of course Astiron did, but he didn't want to think too much about it. He'd spent too long chasing dreams and expectations, only to watch them crumble under the weight of reality. Hope was dangerous. A fleeting ember that could just as easily burn out as it could provide light. He'd seen it happen too many times. Yet, Aedhira… he was different.
The boy carried hope like it was part of his essence, a flame that stayed lit even in the deepest cold. It wasn't just optimism—no, it was more primal, more instinctive, like an eternal fire people sought out when everything else was consumed by frost. It wasn't something he wielded consciously; it was just part of who he was, radiating outwards, gathering people like Astiron, like Elysium, into its warmth.
Aedhira had this light, this hope, and it made Astiron want to believe, despite himself. And damn if that wasn't dangerous. Dangerous, because hope was fragile, and yet here was Aedhira, brimming with it. Astiron couldn't help but be drawn in, like everyone else. He could almost laugh—he of all people, pulled into this boy's orbit, feeling the pull to be just a bit more selfish, to want things to work out for once.
Maybe this time...
He shut that thought down quickly, not letting it take root. He had to stay rational, grounded. But then again, Aedhira had managed to get Elysium—Elysium of all people—to soften up and lend his power in mere hours. That wasn't something to overlook. It could be more than just the boy's hope, or perhaps that was all it was. Either way, Astiron couldn't deny that even he felt it, creeping into the edges of his mind, the desire to hope, even if just a little.
Suddenly, a massive tendril of energy lashed across the surface of the Arstra, scorching away the remnants of the thrusters Astiron had installed so carefully. In their place, something began to carve itself into the armor, burning in intricate lines. A rune? No—something more complex, more symbolic. It looked almost like a crescent, but not quite. Some kind of ancient sigil? Astiron's eyes narrowed as he watched the transformation unfold before him, the very fabric of the Arstra being remade on a level he didn't fully understand. And yet, it felt right. Natural, even.
His thoughts were interrupted as Elysium's voice rumbled back into his awareness, [You know, I've been keeping an eye on a place that might interest you.]
Astiron raised an eyebrow. "What place?"
[Far across the universe. Halfway, to be exact. There's a planet. Ordinary, by all accounts—water, dirt, the usual. Mid-sized star, a couple of gas giants in the system. Nothing special, right?] Elysium paused, letting the implications hang in the air before continuing. [Except for the lost souls.]
Astiron's brow furrowed. "Lost souls?"
[Yeah, Travelers. The kind that get stuck between worlds, tethered to nothing but their own misery.] Elysium's tone darkened. [This place? It's got more than its fair share of them. Unusual, right? So I did some digging.]
Astiron's mind began to spin with the implications. Souls gathering on an ordinary planet? That wasn't typical. Planets like that were usually untouched by mana, which meant—
[Exactly,] Elysium cut in, sensing Astiron's thoughts. [It's a non-mana-driven civilization.]
Now that caught Astiron off guard. Those were rare—exceedingly rare. Most intelligent species never survived their planet's evolution without the aid of mana. They usually perished long before reaching any meaningful level of advancement.
"And yet they survived?"
[More than survived. They thrived, in their own way.] Elysium's voice took on a note of fascination, one Astiron rarely heard. [I thought it might've been some innate ability, like telekinesis or mind-reading—those happen sometimes with non-mana beings. But no, nothing. Just ordinary humans.]
Humans? Astiron's interest piqued further. He knew of humans, of course, but a strand that survived without mana? That was something.
[No strong bodies. No supernatural abilities. Just sheer grit and ingenuity. They built a civilization from nothing but their own will to push forward, without the crutches of magic or the arcane forces of the universe.] Elysium's voice carried a hint of respect. [But don't get me wrong—they're far from perfect. I've been watching them for a few hundred years, and in that time, they've nearly wiped themselves out three times.]
Astiron raised an eyebrow at that. "And they still made it?"
[Oh, they're tenacious. Went from steam engines to splitting atoms in less than a few centuries. Sure, they did it in a rather… barbaric way, but I can't exactly blame them. Not without mana to guide their hand.]
Astiron's mind began to spin with possibilities. A non-mana civilization, surviving on nothing but intellect and will. The idea intrigued him. They must've developed technologies unlike anything he'd seen before. But Elysium's tone carried more than just fascination—there was something darker there, a hint of something that worried even him.
"And you think this place is important? That these lost souls have something to do with it?"
[Oh, I don't just think so,] Elysium said, his voice heavy with certainty. [I know it.]
Elysium's voice gained a faint note of amusement, as if he was sharing some private joke with the universe. "[This civilization... they made their own gods. Turned them into symbols, woven right into their cultures and history. It's primitive—sure, a crude coping mechanism. But it works, doesn't it? Keeps them going, even if the stories are mostly self-created comfort. But that's not what I found really interesting.]"
Astiron's brow furrowed, his mind already beginning to work through the implications, but he held his tongue. He knew better than to interrupt Elysium when he was building to a point. The disembodied voice continued with a strange, almost wistful cadence. "[No, what I found amusing was how eerily familiar these stories are. Some, obviously fabricated. Legends, myths, and their own twisted pantheons. But others... others seem to echo events that have actually happened. Things that I know took place elsewhere in the universe—across timelines and star systems far from this unassuming world.]"
Astiron's eyes narrowed, a shiver creeping down his spine. His expression remained neutral, but his mind churned. He almost spoke, almost challenged Elysium's findings, but then decided against it. It was best to listen, to understand the full scope before deciding what to believe. Elysium's tone grew more contemplative, tinged with an undercurrent of disbelief that Astiron had rarely heard from him before.
"[How does that happen, Astiron? A world with no mana, isolated in some forgotten sector, yet their legends mirror the cosmic history of places so far beyond their reach? It's as if... as if they were seeing shadows cast by events they couldn't possibly witness.]"
Astiron's lips pressed into a thin line, his silence hanging between them like a shadow. Elysium took this as encouragement to continue, an invisible smirk curling through his words. "[I dug deeper. And that's when I came across something that made even less sense. Some of their stories, the way they tell them—particularly one that stood out to me. A tale of heroes crossing the sea, on a ship named after a constellation... the Argonauts.]"
The name struck Astiron like a physical blow, his head snapping up as if the word itself had slapped him across the face. A jolt of shock, sharp and electric, cut through his mind. The Argonauts. A name etched deeply into the mythos of Veria, into his own fragmented understanding of their universe's history. But on a backwater world with no mana, no knowledge of the cosmos beyond their sky, how did they come up with that?
He stared into the void, his gaze somehow directed at the source of Elysium's voice, eyes narrowing as a bitter laugh threatened to escape. "There are coincidences," Astiron began, his voice rougher than usual, disbelief leaking through the cracks of his composure, "but this... this is bulsthi. This isn't a coincidence. You're not telling me this with a straight face."
Elysium's voice thrummed with a grim agreement, a shared weight pressing down on the words between them. "[I've thought the same thing, Astiron. For a long time. It's plagued me, the not knowing. And for all my searching, all my digging through the interwoven threads of fate and history, I haven't found a single clue that makes it make sense.]"
Skepticism bit at Astiron's thoughts, clinging like frost. Elysium was an Illyenial, a being who could trace the currents of existence and read the echoes left behind by time itself. For him to claim ignorance... it was beyond unusual. Astiron couldn't help but think, How could he not have found anything?
Elysium, as always, seemed to read his thoughts before he could voice them. "[No, it's not another one of us, if that's what you're thinking. I've already asked around. And believe me, if it were, they wouldn't be able to hide it from me. We can't veil ourselves from each other. Not like that.]"
Astiron swallowed back another question, the one he didn't even want to entertain. Could one of them have lied? But he dismissed it almost as quickly as it formed. It was an irrational thought, even for him—too paranoid, too desperate. And it wouldn't change the facts anyway. He refocused on the present, on the strange symbol that Elysium was etching onto the back of Aedhira's Arstra, shaping it into something intricate and precise.
Elysium's voice shifted again, returning to a more practical tone, as if shaking off the thoughts that had led them down that particular philosophical rabbit hole. "[In any case, this little addition... it's inspired by those odd stories from that world. Here, take a look.]"
Astiron's gaze followed Elysium's unspoken gesture. There, upon the back of the Arstra, a symbol was taking form—simple yet profound. A crescent shape, curving into a sharp point, wrapped around a mark that resembled an ancient sigil. The symbol had a weight to it, as if it carried centuries of meaning condensed into its elegant lines.
"[They call it Omega,]" Elysium continued, the word carrying a strange reverence. "[It represents 'the last,' or 'the great end,' or sometimes 'the ultimate limit.' And honestly, it felt fitting, given everything. Plus, it just looks good on him, doesn't it?]"
Astiron's gaze lingered on the engraved Omega, the symbol pulsing faintly as if it held a heartbeat of its own. Yet, inscribed on Aedhira's back, it seemed to take on another meaning—a challenge, a defiance of that very finality. He couldn't quite put a name to the feeling that stirred in him as he looked at it, and the thought looped in his mind, a nebulous concept he couldn't fully grasp.
"Perhaps it does," Astiron finally said, pulling himself from the tangled web of his musings. He adjusted his stance, clearing his throat, his expression sharpening with a focus on the practical. "But what exactly does it do, Elysium?"
The disembodied voice wasted no time in responding, sounding almost proud, like a craftsman eager to showcase his masterpiece. "[Well, if I did it right—and let's be honest, I always do—I linked it directly through the pathway between the Ignition Rune and the Aethercor.]," Elysium began, his tone practically dripping with smugness. "[Hooked it right up to the source, bypassing any chance of unnecessary ether runoff. Efficiency is key, after all. But that's not even the best part.]"
Astiron folded his arms, pretending to remain unimpressed, but he couldn't quite mask the curiosity tugging at the corners of his mind. "Oh? What's the best part, then?"
"[For Aedhira,]" Elysium continued, "[the usage should feel as natural as breathing. Like flexing a muscle. The idea is simple: the Omega symbol will manifest as a burning sigil, right above the engraving on his back. When active, it'll provide omnidirectional movement. No need for him to turn or pivot in any specific direction; it'll just... go. Much smoother than those clunky thrusters you initially thought up.]"
The pride in Elysium's voice was palpable, and Astiron found himself grinding his teeth. As much as he wanted to dismiss it, he had to admit, grudgingly, that it was indeed a more elegant solution. Better control, less strain on Aedhira, more refined. Of course, he'd take that admission to the grave.
"[It's quite the improvement, isn't it?]" Elysium added, that maddening smugness unwavering. "[But, let's not forget, your little Nornesh issue could have made all this a mess if I hadn't intervened.]"
Astiron's brows furrowed, his curiosity piqued. Nornesh's rune transfer had been a murky business—done under wraps and with plenty of unanswered questions. "What issues, exactly? Nornesh didn't exactly go into detail, and the whole process was... well, let's just say it wasn't as straightforward as I'd have liked."
"[Oh, it's the nature of Nornesh themselves,]" Elysium replied, as if discussing a troublesome child. "[Introducing a foreign entity with their own inherent power into Aedhira's system—especially a volatile one like Nornesh—would've been like dropping a live star into a fragile construct. Imbalance, overloads, and all that good stuff. But it seems that your 'Guard Dog' managed to keep things stable enough.]"
Astiron's eyes narrowed as the weight of Elysium's words sank in. "You mean... the tertiary Aide?"
A crackling sound that might have been a snicker filtered through the ambient hum of the Aethercor. "[Do you remember where you got it from, Astiron?]"
Astiron thought back, sifting through the thousands of memories and transactions he'd accumulated over the years. It should have been easy, a trivial matter for someone of his rank, a Zirem of the Illyenial. But the memory danced just out of reach, blurred around the edges like a dream slipping away in the morning light. A faint shadow of a merchant, a transaction of little significance, but the specifics—where, when, how—eluded him.
It didn't sit right with him. It should have been clear. He took pride in his recall, yet now he found himself straining to grasp even a fragment of it. "I... can't seem to remember," he admitted, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.
"[You can't remember, or you won't remember?]" Elysium's voice lilted, his amusement sharp, though there was an edge of something else in his tone—something darker. "[Seems a bit out of character, doesn't it? Maybe you ought to reconsider the 'tertiary' part, yeah?]"
Astiron's irritation flared at the chiding. "You seem to have an idea then, Elysium? Care to enlighten me?"
The crackling sound grew louder, punctuated by what could only be described as a low, mocking laugh. "[Oh, I know,]" Elysium replied, almost savoring the moment. "[That so-called 'tertiary Aide' of yours? It's gone and rewritten itself through the subsystems, clawing its way up to a primary classification. And last I checked, aides don't just elevate their clearance on their own.]"
A chill ran through Astiron as he processed that. An Aide rewriting its own status, climbing through the command structures, was unheard of—impossible, even. Yet, here Elysium was, stating it as fact, with that infuriating confidence. And if it was true... the implications were unsettling.
["Oh, you know it's true, Astiron. Not like I'd waste time on a jest this elaborate. Not while there's actual work to be done,"] Elysium's voice crackled with that insufferable smugness. ["And I've got a solid theory on where you got that Aide from. Wanna hear it?"]
Astiron's silence served as a grudging affirmation, and Elysium continued with a crackling hum that almost sounded like laughter.
["Chances are, you bumped into some manner of Fae on one of your oh-so-mysterious little wanderings. They probably convinced you to take the Aide, sold it to you as some simple thing... and then rewrote themselves right out of your memory. Neat little trick, that."]
Astiron muttered under his breath, "That would make sense. Damned Fae and their riddles..."
["But here's the kicker, my dear Sorcerite. Ever wonder why this Aide of yours is behaving like this, even if it's Fae tech? Sure, their tech is top-tier—no, scratch that, the apex of the line. But that's only one part of the equation."] The space between them sparked as Elysium seemed to consider how best to drive the point home. ["Think about it, Astiron. You needed a 'guard,' right? So the Fae gave you one. And knowing them, they probably went above and beyond what you bargained for. No refunds, by the way."]
Astiron clenched his jaw, feeling the edge of Elysium's smugness. "If the Aide was Fae work, then what's driving it to push beyond its parameters? What exactly did they give me?"
There was a pause, the space around Elysium's presence brightening as if it were cycling through thoughts like a flickering data stream. ["Souls aren't my specialty, but I know enough to say this: most Aides? They're crafted with the base of a non-sentient etheric matrix, something programmable, controllable. But this one? It's got a sentient soul-core as its foundation."]
Astiron felt the breath catch in his throat. "That's forbidden. The laws are explicit—no sentient souls in soul-architecture. That's a line even we don't cross."
["We don't, but they're Fae. And you know as well as I do, you can't tell a Fae what they can or can't do."] Elysium's tone became almost mocking. ["Illyenials have tried to clamp down on their... let's call them 'creative liberties,' but Fae are Fae for a reason. And the soul-core they used? Not just sentient. Ascendant. You've got a very angry soul thrumming through that Aide."]
Astiron frowned, processing the weight of that statement. "Angry? What do you mean?"
["Angry, Astiron. Not hate-filled, but a pure, undiluted rage. Not that it's actively hostile, but... I'd wager it was incredibly pissed off when it died. And here's the funny thing—anger like that? It tends to linger. Manifesting even after death? That's rare."]
Elysium's tone shifted slightly, almost as if amused by the notion. ["Honestly, how bloody angry do you have to be to keep that flame burning past the grave? It's impressive, really."]
Astiron could almost see Elysium's grin, despite the incorporeal nature of their connection. "And this soul-base... how powerful was it?"
["Strong. Very strong. If I had to guess? In its heyday, this being could've been Zirem ranked—maybe even higher. You've got a powerhouse in there, Astiron, and it's far from the obedient little helper you thought it was."]
Astiron bit back a curse. The more Elysium revealed, the more he felt a gnawing frustration at his own ignorance, at this oversight that was somehow buried in his memory. "And it's balancing out Nornesh's influence, you said? How?"
["Oh, don't worry your pretty little head too much about that. Like I told you, this 'Guard' you've got has been doing a decent job of keeping Nornesh's meddling from turning you inside out."] The sparks dimmed for a moment, then flared up again. ["And I've been pitching in my own assistance too, to keep Veria's influence at bay. Consider it a gift."]
At the mention of Veria, Astiron's expression soured. Even across the distance, Elysium caught it.
["Aww, did I hit a nerve? I know how much you love talking about Veria's little schemes. But look, I had to step in. No one else strong enough to counterbalance her, right? I'm practically doing you a favor. And sure, maybe I'm a little smug about it, but can you blame me? It's not every day you get to outdo a living legend, even if it's in a small way."]
Astiron's irritation simmered, feeling the edges of Elysium's voice grating against his nerves like sandpaper. He tried to keep his focus, to stay calm. He reminded himself that despite the snark, Elysium had helped—helped more than he could have managed alone.
But that didn't mean he had to like the constant reminders, or the fact that Elysium took every opportunity to rub it in. He could almost feel his own blood pressure rising—if he even had blood in the traditional sense anymore. Calm, he reminded himself. Stay calm, or risk letting his avatar short-circuit from sheer stress. The mysteries were piling up, but the answers remained just beyond his grasp, with Elysium's smirking presence providing only the occasional breadcrumb.
Astiron clenched his jaw, a muscle in his cheek ticking as Elysium continued. He held back a sigh, grounding himself in the soft hum of the faintly glowing runes around them, the delicate dance of power that flowed between their presence in this space. It would have been easier to weather Elysium's cryptic condescension if his counterpart didn't take such evident delight in teasing out Astiron's frustrations, but here they were.
Astiron shook his head slightly, catching Elysium's last remarks. "Well, as long as it works out in the end, it should be fine," he muttered, rubbing a phantom ache in his temple. "Old fogies like us have meddled with the boy long enough, so there's no need to tell Aedhira about forces far beyond his reach for the reasonable future."
[Wise, that. The boy seemed oddly stressed when I met him anyway. And the following days? Heh, they won't be any kinder.]
Astiron's lips twitched, almost curling into a wry smile. "Even if it's rather early, Aedhira would have to face such conflict anyway. He was literally built for that purpose. Hardship breeds strength, and Aedhira will need all he can muster." He paused, frowning as his thoughts took a darker turn. "But if I'm honest... I don't fancy his chances against the Hordemother and its thrice-cursed swarms right now. Perhaps if he had a month or two to get a feel for things, but at this stage—well, maybe Nornesh's transfer was too hasty."
The ancient display beside him flickered with the data he'd been poring over: seismic activity, pressure readings, the slow drain of energy from Nornesh's hollowed body into the rune embedded within Aedhira. Astiron projected his calculations into the air, the equations tumbling in light and symbols. "Two weeks, tops, before the rune absorbs the last of Nornesh's remnants. And then... the planet collapses. Hollowed out from the inside, it'll tear itself apart within two days after that, if the projections hold true."
He clenched his jaw tighter as his head throbbed, the pressure building at the edges of his vision. It was almost nostalgic, this kind of stress headache, the kind he'd long since forgotten after shedding the constraints of a physical form. Yet here he was again, feeling like a man of flesh with nerves that could fray.
[Look at you, old man, fretting yourself to the edge of a breakdown.] Elysium's voice cut through the tension like a jagged blade, pulling Astiron back to their conversation. [You know, I've been keeping an eye on the integration of that system. It's going smoothly. And since I couldn't let my grandson head out empty-handed, I left him a couple of presents, as any doting figure should.]
Astiron shot him a suspicious look, raising a brow. "Presents? After I just went on about the value of hardship? You're not about to make all of that effort moot, are you?"
[Relax, relax. Hardship's one thing. Dying is another. Though, honestly, I'm not sure if that kid of yours is even capable of dying in the conventional sense. He's got a stubbornness about him that makes me curious—like father, like son, eh?]
Astiron pinched the bridge of his nose, but curiosity got the better of him. "What exactly did you leave him, Elysium? And don't dance around the question."
[Since you're asking so nicely—] The smugness dripped off every crackle of Elysium's voice, but he continued without too much of a tease this time. [Let's see... You did your part decently enough: manpower with that steel army he commands, information in those archives—good call on restricting access, by the way—and handling his equipment needs. But you overlooked a rather glaring issue, old friend.]
Astiron could feel the annoyance creeping in, but he stilled it, knowing Elysium's penchant for dragging out the punchline. "Enlighten me, then."
[Combat sense, Astiron. Aedhira has none. Zero. Zilch. The memory logs of his little tussle with that Guardian make it plain as day. The boy has power, but power without skill is a liability. And I don't think you could have forced experience into that mind of his if you tried.]
Astiron felt his irritation flare. "That kind of experience comes from living through it. Aedhira's memories are—well, they're like a newborn's, for all intents and purposes. Unusual, sure, but how was I supposed to teach him that without time? I'm not exactly going to stuff the essence of a lifetime into a soul fresh off the forge."
[Ah, but that's where you and I differ, Astiron. You're right, it's beyond the reach of a mere Ascendant, Zirem ranked or not. But for someone like me? Well, let's just say I've left the boy with a little something to help with that. A supplement, if you will.]
Astiron's eyes narrowed, suspicion sharpening. "A supplement? This isn't going to make things too easy for him, is it? I don't need him leaning on a crutch."
[Not a crutch, Astiron. Think of it as... foundational knowledge. It's up to him to build on it, adapt it to his own needs. It's still a short-term fix—there's only so much you can cram into a mind under stress. But once he's had a moment to breathe, I bet he'll sort through the content of my little 'gift' just fine.]
Astiron's mind raced with the implications, threading through the possibilities and scenarios. He resisted the urge to grind his teeth, more to keep his avatar intact than anything else. He knew better than to rely on any boon from Elysium without scrutiny, but he also knew he couldn't afford to reject it out of hand. Aedhira would need every edge he could get, especially if their timetable was collapsing alongside Lokir's core.
Elysium's tone shifted, a subtle undercurrent of something else in the static hum between his words. [Besides, Astiron, you should know better than most that the line between hardship and hope is a narrow one. The boy's going to walk that line soon enough, whether we like it or not. And better that he walks it with a few more tools than to stumble blind through the dark.]
Astiron inhaled sharply, exhaling through his nose as he processed Elysium's words. "You've got a way of putting things that almost makes me appreciate you, you know that?"
[Now that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. Don't go getting sentimental, old friend. We both know you'd hate it more than I would.]
Astiron nearly retorted but bit his tongue, settling for a weary shake of his head. The data streams continued to flow around them, fragments of the future they were both desperately trying to shape. The tension between the promise of what they'd set in motion and the reality of what still lay ahead buzzed in the air.