Silver Star City wore its night heavier and more suffocating than Cinder Town ever did. The Aetheric Shield cast a pale, milky halo over the Academy district, softening the noble architecture into a cold, gentle wash. But in the shadows that light could not reach, the door Elara had glimpsed earlier—half-covered in vines—lay hidden beneath the ruin of an abandoned steam conduit, like the half-closed, bronze eye of a great, inert machine.
Elara pulled her gray cloak tighter, the hood dipping low enough to mask her nose. Her fingertips unconsciously grazed her waist, where she kept a small vial of Slumber Dew—the last Witch's Brew she had refined in Cinder Town, and her sole bargaining chip. She took a deep, steadying breath, the metallic scent of ozone sharp in her lungs, recalling the code word Old Ash had given her: "Find the pipe door, use my name." She pushed against the protesting metal, and the heavy door groaned open.
Beyond lay a cast-iron conduit, wide enough for two people abreast. Its inner walls were coated in patches of Phos-Green Lumina-Moss. A damp, fungal stink mingled with the sharp ozone odor of leaked Aetheric energy. The moss's faint, unsettling glow cast fractured, distorting shadows on the pipe, making them appear like countless minute claws slowly writhing. After only a few steps, another scent began to bleed into the air: a sickly sweet, metallic hint of rotting seaweed—the unmistakable taint of Abyssal Energy. Her palm scar, the Medium that contained the Dissonant Power, tightened and began to prickle with a familiar, dangerous heat. Elara instantly drew her hand into the shelter of her cloak, suppressing the burn, terrified of betraying the slightest anomaly. Old Ash had not detailed the depth of the tunnel, nor the dangers within, only "Find Rust Nail, the mechanical scrap vendor, and use my name." She could only move forward by instinct, just as she had navigated the dark alleyways of Cinder Town searching for Shadow Ember Moss.
The tunnel abruptly opened into an abandoned steam condensation chamber—the Underground Market's "antechamber." There was no natural ceiling, only a dense, overlapping skeleton of defunct gears and colossal cast-iron pipes, crisscrossing high above, forming the structure's support. From this metallic framework hung flickering gas lamps. In the oppressive yellow light, dozens of stalls were arranged along the walls. Masked vendors—some wearing crudely shaped Raven-beak masks—negotiated with customers in low code. One stall displayed 'charms' strung from the vertebrae of unknown creatures. Another merchant, swaddled in black cloth, revealed cracked, bluish pirated Aetheric Scrolls, their edges tainted with Blighted Moss. Most of the crowd wore hoods or masks; silence reigned, punctuated only by the sharp clink of metal coins cutting through the drone of the distant pipes. The atmosphere was one of palpable, mutual suspicion.
Elara felt profoundly isolated. This was her first time stepping out of Kaelan's sight, entering the "world in Silver Star City's shadow" that Old Ash had spoken of.
Following Old Ash's instruction, she found the stall piled high with rusty components. The vendor was a cyclops, his eye socket fitted with a brass eyepiece engraved with tiny Cogwheel Symbols. This must be Rust Nail. Elara approached the stall, keeping her voice barely above a whisper: "Old Ash sent me."
Rust Nail's cloudy mechanical eye lifted, sweeping over her cloak, her clenched knuckles, and finally resting on her waist, where the subtle outline of the medicine vial was visible. He didn't ask questions. His throat produced a hoarse, grating sound like stripped gears: "Old Ash's rule: we only speak of wares." He gestured to the iron tray on his counter. "Name what you need, produce what you barter."
"I need Star Dust Sand." Elara produced the vial of Slumber Dew, placing it on the tray. "This is my refinement. It can Sooth the mind and temper the emotions. More stable than the Association's standard formulas." She dared not mention the hallucinogenic properties, nor the specific inclusion of Shadow Ember Moss. Sweat slicked her palm beneath the cloak's lining—this was her only true asset. To be rejected now would mean failure.
Rust Nail held the glass bottle to the gaslight, shaking it, then uncorked the stopper and sniffed. Suddenly, he called out toward the chamber's depths: "Silas! Old Ash's contact brought something 'interesting.'"
Before Elara could react, a figure in deep purple velvet robes emerged from behind a pipe entwined with heavy vines. Their silver-gray hair was meticulously slicked back, a monocle perched on the bridge of their nose. The eye behind the lens—like a jewel suspended in ink—focused on the Slumber Dew with academic scrutiny. "Old Ash rarely sends people here." He ignored Elara's name or history, simply lifting the bottle. He rubbed a droplet of the liquid between his fingers. "The Shadow Ember Moss is perfectly proportioned; the energy didn't rampage. Do you understand herbal processing?"
Elara nodded, saying nothing. Silas retrieved a small silver box. He opened it, and a pinch of faintly shimmering dust settled on the tray—Star Dust Sand, which looked like fragmented starlight under the lamp. "The core of a Northern Void Meteorite. It can erase Aetheric signatures." He gestured toward a chamber deeper in the ruins labeled the Sage's Study. "I have an Astral-Diadem Fragment—a page from a ritual used to seal Abyssal Rifts—but the crucial nodes are illegible. If you can decipher them, the Star Dust Sand is yours. Rust Nail can handle future messages."
Elara's gaze was drawn to the fragment Silas offered. The twisted symbols subtly echoed the records of the Natural Aetheric Pact in The Rotting Earth Codex. This was a gamble: trading forbidden Witch knowledge for the resources she needed to survive. She had no choice. Without Star Dust Sand, her Concealment Elixir could not be upgraded, and the Association's Aetheric Detection arrays would eventually expose her. She gripped the fragment, her voice a near-whisper: "Agreed."
Silas poured the Star Dust Sand into a small Obsidian Vial. As he handed it to her, his warning was cold and concise: "The Vultures down here are numerous, and they specifically target newcomers with unique wares. Keep your item hidden. Next time, contact Rust Nail directly. Don't wander." He made no mention of the surface powers, only giving the basic risk assessment, then returned to his book, as if the transaction had been the most mundane of daily routines.
Elara clutched the Obsidian Vial, its cold surface a stark comfort. Leaving the condensation chamber, the Lumina-Moss's glow in the pipe was still jarring, but she felt a sense of relief—with a single word from Old Ash, she, a stranger, had acquired what she needed in the shadows of Silver Star City. Back on the surface, the Aetheric Shield's light remained soft and reassuring, but Elara knew the world behind that light, just like the market below, demanded that she use her own assets to buy her freedom.
She touched The Rotting Earth Codex in her tunic, then the Obsidian Vial in her hand. This was her first successful transaction, achieved without anyone's protection, using her own Witch's Brew and Old Ash's referral. The path was long, but at least now, she had stepped exactly where she intended—into the true Power Field of Silver Star City.