The mint incense of the Hall of Contemplation clung stubbornly to Elara Thorne's cuffs. She stood before Mentor Ilise Whisper's oak door, her knuckles white. In her pocket, a small porcelain vial held the Aetheric Camouflage Paste (a blend of Shadow Ember Moss powder, a spoonful of Star Dust Sand, and finely sifted workshop dross, giving off a pale gray shimmer and the scent of coal smoke and humus). The detection crystal on the door flickered with a faint blue light, its runes coiling like fine worms. She gripped the vial, terrified that the abnormal energy within would be captured.
"Come in." Ilise Whisper's voice was gentle but carried clear authority. The office was cramped. A brass Aetheric Calibrator sat on the stone table, its central crystal suspended with Star Dust Sand, which gleamed with a cold, hard luster under the gaslight—the same material, but processed to eliminate the trait of inducing bloodline frenzy. "Place your right hand on the crystal. Relax. We'll measure your Stellar Core Fluctuation." Ilise adjusted her silver-rimmed spectacles; her Tier-Three Heart-speaker badge sparkled at her collar.
Elara's fingertips met the cold crystal. The Calibrator emitted a weak hum, like rusty gears grinding. The Star Dust Sand rotated into a pale gold vortex, intent on capturing the 'Star-born Source' frequency of the Native Aether. She activated the Camouflage Paste; the faint gray Simulated Fluctuation oozed out, just covering the critical abnormal detection threshold. But as the vortex neared stabilization, it suddenly hitched, and an extremely faint gray mist emanated from the crystal's edge—a minor repulsion between the Star Dust Sand and the paste. Fortunately, Ilise was adjusting a dial and missed the subtle anomaly.
"Strange. Your Resonance had a brief break this morning, yet the calibration is normal now." Ilise adjusted the Aetheric sensitivity, restarting the process. The vortex spun faster. Elara discreetly applied slightly more paste to the crystal. The gray mist was quickly masked. The instrument displayed green text: "Aetheric Fluctuation: Normal Range for Tier-Two Soother. Deviation 4.7%. No anomaly."
"Perhaps you were tense, causing a momentary Aetheric breakdown." Ilise packed the Aetheric Calibrator away, her gaze resting on Elara's tightly clenched left hand. "Next time, soak your hands in Shadow Ember Moss water before practice. It stabilizes the Aether. The Academy dispensary has some." The 'perhaps' in her tone was a precise, subtle probe—the exact level of mild suspicion Elara wanted to leave behind, confirming her camouflage was convincing but not flawless.
Stepping out of the office, the Aether-Lights of the Weaver's Gallery cast a sickly white glow, and the light threw distorted shadows that seemed to claw at the ground. Elara touched the hardback notebook in her pocket, cool against her heart. She knew that to establish a stable link with the Industrial Spirit, she needed to brew the Industrial Spirit Catalyst. This Aether, which thrived in the rust of iron pipes, running on steam, and lacking the Star-born Source, could achieve shallow Resonance with her Heterogenous Energy, thus evading the Academy's instruments. Brewing the Catalyst required three ingredients: Shadow Lichen (for Aetheric draw), Weeping Iron-Rust (for stability of the Fluctuation), and Machine-Oil Bloom (for chain strengthening). Crucially, the Weeping Iron-Rust had to be infused with finger-blood, and the Machine-Oil Bloom boiled with the Shadow Lichen. These materials were forbidden and only available in the Underground Market.
Elara routed to the abandoned pipe entrance at the edge of the Academy. Vines coiled around the rusted iron door like desiccated snakes. She pushed open a crack, and a cold draft mixed with machine oil, mold, and faint abyssal rot rushed in, making her shiver. Following the faint glow of phosphorescent green moss that coated the inner walls, she bent and slipped inside. Rusty metal scraped her cloak, mingling with the low whisper of metal scraping silk deep within the pipes, suggesting hidden things in the dark.
The Underground Market's 'Front Hall' was a defunct steam condensation chamber. Gaslights cast a dim, flickering yellow glow over the stalls. Elara found a stall piled with rusty parts. The stall owner, with a single prosthetic eye, hissed with a gear-grinding sound in his throat: "Silas is in the 'Philosopher's Study.' Said your delivery arrived." He pointed to a thick, vine-entangled brass conduit deeper in the condensation chamber. "The seventh brass valve. Tap three times, wait five seconds. Don't mess up; the steam valve leaks."
Elara followed the conduit, the smell of old paper gradually overriding the mold. In the "Philosopher's Study," Silas used a silver bookmark to hold open a thick book filled with steam conduit schematics. He adjusted his monocle and tapped the table: "Shadow Lichen, half an ounce. Weeping Iron-Rust, one dram. Machine-Oil Bloom, a small pinch. Freshly gathered from below."
"I'll trade this." Elara pulled an amber vial from a hidden pouch, a charcoal label affixed to the glass: 'Slumbering Dew: Stabilizes Tier-One Frenzy.' It was a potion she had brewed, purer than her last attempt. She gripped the vial, wary of any lingering Witch's Power residue.
Silas shook the vial and took a sniff, a slight smile touching his lips: "Your alchemy is solid. This is enough. I'll throw in a packet of Sulfur Powder." He produced a paper packet of pale yellow dust. "The Brotherhood Patrols are getting tight. They sweep with copper rings. Sprinkle this on yourself; it'll weaken any anomaly into mere Industrial Residue." He took the potion without questioning its origin, assuming her to be an ordinary student researching Industrial Spirit.
Elara took the materials, wrapping the Shadow Lichen and Machine-Oil Bloom in dark purple silk, and placing the Weeping Iron-Rust in a small iron box. She left the Philosopher's Study quickly.
The iron door of the secret workshop was pulled open by Lionel Evans. His Tier-One Sensor Aetheric Fluctuation was reassuringly steady. He held a cleaned, Aether-neutral crucible—a pipe shard whose interior was coated with three layers of Shadow Ember Moss juice, giving off a faint blue light. "You're back! I polished the crucible like you said, and I boiled the Shadow Ember Moss water. It's ready for the mixture." Lionel Evans' voice was eager; his time learning to identify materials and fix tools had progressed, and he could now perform simple adjustments on Aetheric equipment.
Elara spread out the materials and began the process: crushing the Weeping Iron-Rust and adding a drop of blood from her fingertip—the rust instantly flared red. She added the Shadow Lichen and Machine-Oil Bloom, stirring seven times with the polished rabbit bone rod. She slowed her movements, careful not to let Lionel Evans see the precise stirring frequency—the low-tier Industrial Spirit resonance rhythm—to avoid questions. Finally, she added a half-spoon of Sulfur Powder to prevent an Aetheric Runaway.
The mixture in the crucible began to boil, emitting a pale purple light and the scent of machine oil and herbs. Suddenly, the solution churned violently, foam spilling over the edges with a hiss—the reaction between the Machine-Oil Bloom and the Weeping Iron-Rust was too intense! Elara quickly grabbed some raw Shadow Ember Moss she had foraged from the pipes and tossed it in. The solution quickly settled, eventually condensing into a pale brown ointment, its surface shimmering with a subtle, mechanical resonance.
"It's done." Elara picked up the crucible, the warmth of the potion radiating through the ceramic, allowing her tense shoulders to finally relax. Lionel Evans moved to the doorway, listening for movement outside: "Next Resonance Practice, I'll stand guard by the conduits near the workshop. If Mentor Ilise comes looking, I'll tap thrice—the Industrial Spirit Pact Signal you taught me. You'll definitely hear it."
Elara nodded, looking at the ointment on the stone table, then touching the hardback notebook at her heart. The deep hum of steam flow from the pipes was constant, like the low whispers of the Industrial Spirit. Ilise's suspicion was present, the patrols had not ceased, but at least, following the guidance of the Rotting Earth, she had found a strategy to counter them. The night deepened outside the workshop, and the distant glow of the Aetheric Shield could not penetrate this forgotten corner—here, there was no rejection from the Star-born Source, only the low, welcoming hum of the Industrial Spirit, a faint light in the dark that reminded her: this path paved by rust and shadow, though full of risk, was closer to true freedom than the Academy's gilded cage.