The sky over Kaelbridge was ablaze with streaks of emerald light, the annual Fluxstorm painting an awe-inspiring tapestry across the heavens. But for Joran Elthar, the vibrant display was merely a distraction from his latest invention. Hunched over a cluttered workbench in his workshop, he adjusted the tiny filaments inside a bronze orb, his hands steady despite the tremors from the storm's energy coursing through the city.
"Almost there," Joran muttered, his sapphire eyes narrowing behind a pair of goggles. He twisted a final copper wire into place, and the orb hummed to life. A faint glow radiated from its core, its luminescence pulsing in rhythm with the distant crackles of lightning outside. Joran's lips curved into a triumphant grin. "The Aetheric Core is stable."
"About time," drawled a voice behind him.
Joran turned to see Calla leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed. She was dressed in her usual leather coat, her auburn hair swept into a loose braid. Unlike Joran, whose world revolved around machines and theories, Calla was a scavenger—an expert at navigating the ruins beyond Kaelbridge's protective walls. She was also his oldest friend and most frequent critic.
"If this one explodes like the last three, I'm not cleaning it up," she added, nodding toward the orb.
Joran rolled his eyes. "It won't explode. The Aetheric Core is different—it's powered by controlled Flux energy. It could revolutionize the way we power machines."
Calla raised an eyebrow. "Revolutionize, huh? I'll believe it when it doesn't set the roof on fire."
Before Joran could retort, a deafening boom shook the workshop, rattling the shelves and sending tools clattering to the floor. Calla was already at the window, peering out into the storm. "What the—? That wasn't lightning."
Joran joined her, his heart sinking at the sight. A massive airship, its sleek metal hull illuminated by Fluxlight, was careening toward the city. Trails of smoke poured from its engines, and its trajectory was unmistakable—it was going to crash.
"Looks like it's coming down near the Outer District," Calla said, her voice tight.
"That's too close to the Wall," Joran said, already grabbing his coat. The Wall was Kaelbridge's ancient barrier, powered by a fusion of magic and technology, protecting the city from the Wastes beyond. If the crash damaged it, the consequences could be catastrophic.
"We need to get there," Calla said, her tone brooking no argument.
Joran nodded, snatching the Aetheric Core and shoving it into his satchel. "Let's go."
---
The streets of Kaelbridge were chaotic as the pair made their way toward the crash site. The Fluxstorm's energy had already caused minor malfunctions across the city—lamps flickered erratically, and the hum of overloaded machinery filled the air. Citizens hurried to their homes, casting nervous glances at the sky.
By the time Joran and Calla reached the Outer District, the airship had already crashed into one of the abandoned factories near the Wall. The structure groaned under the weight of the wreckage, flames licking at its edges.
"Stay back!" shouted a guard as they approached. The man was clad in the bronze armor of the Aetherwatch, Kaelbridge's elite protectors. "This area is under lockdown."
Calla stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "We're here to help. Let us through."
The guard hesitated, his gaze shifting to Joran. "And who's he? Doesn't look like a Watch engineer."
"I'm a fluxsmith," Joran said quickly. "I can stabilize the engines if they're still leaking energy."
The guard frowned but eventually relented. "Fine. But be quick. If this thing goes, it'll take half the district with it."
Inside the factory, the air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning metal. Sparks rained down from the airship's ruptured hull, and the hum of unstable Flux energy filled the room. Joran's eyes widened as he approached the wreckage. The airship was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Its design was sleek and alien, its surfaces etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly despite the damage.
"Calla," Joran said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't Kaelbridge tech."
"No kidding," she replied, her gaze fixed on the runes. "I've seen markings like these before, though. Out in the Wastes."
Joran stared at her. "What? Where?"
"Old ruins," Calla said, her tone grim. "Places people aren't supposed to go."
Before Joran could respond, a low groan echoed through the factory. The airship's hull shifted, and a section of the wreckage crumpled inward, revealing a strange, glowing crystal embedded in its core. The crystal pulsed with a deep, rhythmic energy, unlike any Flux energy Joran had encountered.
"That's the engine," Joran said, stepping closer despite the rising heat. "If I can stabilize it, I might be able to—"
A sudden movement stopped him in his tracks. From the shadows of the wreckage emerged a figure, clad in sleek, black armor that seemed to shimmer with its own light. The figure's face was obscured by a helmet, and in its hand was a weapon—a blade of pure energy that hummed with menace.
"Step away," the figure commanded, its voice distorted by the helmet.
Joran froze, his mind racing. "Who are you? Did you pilot this ship?"
The figure didn't answer, instead raising the blade in a clear warning. Calla, ever the pragmatist, already had a dagger in her hand, though she didn't move.
"We don't want trouble," she said carefully. "But you're going to have to explain what this is."
The figure hesitated, and for a moment, Joran thought they might actually answer. But then the crystal in the airship's core flared brightly, and the figure turned toward it, as if realizing something urgent.
"Leave now," the figure said. "You don't understand what's at stake."
Before Joran could protest, the crystal emitted a pulse of energy that sent a shockwave through the room. The force knocked Joran and Calla off their feet, and when Joran looked up, the figure was gone.
The crystal, however, was still there—and its glow was intensifying.
"We need to move," Calla said, pulling Joran to his feet. "That thing's going to blow."
"No," Joran said, his voice resolute. "I can stop it. But I need your help."
Calla hesitated, then nodded. "What do you need?"
Joran quickly pulled the Aetheric Core from his satchel, his mind racing as he calculated the connections. "I can use this to siphon the excess energy, but you'll need to keep the fluxlines steady."
Calla didn't ask questions. She knelt beside him, holding the delicate wires as Joran connected the Core to the crystal. The hum of energy grew louder, and for a moment, Joran feared it wouldn't work. But then the Core began to glow, absorbing the energy in steady pulses.
"It's working," Joran said, relief flooding his voice.
The crystal's light dimmed, and the hum faded into silence. Joran slumped back, exhausted but triumphant.
"Nice work," Calla said, helping him to his feet. "But we still don't know what that thing is—or who that person was."
Joran nodded, staring at the crystal. "Whatever it is, it's not from here. And if there's more of it out there…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
The Fluxstorm outside raged on, but inside the factory, a new storm was brewing—one that would change their world forever.