Chapter 15 #3
Vic's eyes lit up. "Would you like to see for yourself?"
I blinked. "See what?"
"The communication system." He set down his mug with a clink. "Most of the crew doesn't care how it works as long as it does. You're the first person to actually ask me about it"
That made me smile. "Lead the way then."
Vic guided me below deck, past the crew quarters and storage rooms, to a narrow door I'd never noticed before. It was tucked away in a corner, partially hidden behind a stack of crates. He produced a small brass key from his pocket and unlocked it.
"Welcome to my workshop," he said, pushing the door open.
I stepped inside and froze, my mouth falling open.
The room was barely larger than a closet, but every inch of space had been utilized.
Brass gears and pulleys hung from the ceiling.
Crystal lamps in various colors cast a kaleidoscope of light across worktables cluttered with tools I couldn't name.
Scrolls and notebooks were stacked in precarious piles, some open to reveal diagrams and equations so complex they made my head spin.
"This is..." I trailed off, unable to find the right words.
"A bit chaotic, I know," Vic said, squeezing past me. "But there's order in the madness, I promise."
He led me to a device in the center of the room. It looked like nothing I'd ever seen—a confusing array of brass tubes and dials, with anchor crystals of various sizes embedded throughout. Attached to one end was a needle poised above a roll of parchment.
"This," Vic said with undisguised pride, "is a long-distance communicator. Or LDC, as we call it."
I leaned closer, fascinated by the intricate mechanisms. "How does it work?"
"Some anchor crystals are powerful enough to receive information across vast distances," Vic explained, adjusting one of the dials.
"They store the information in the form of vibrations, which this apparatus translates into physical movement.
" He pointed to the needle. "When signals come in, these vibrations transfer to the needle, which etches the messages onto the parchment.
It's how we've been keeping in contact with our allies. "
I ran my fingers lightly over the brass casing, feeling a faint hum beneath my touch. "So this is how you're monitoring my father's case?"
"Exactly. Marcellus has a similar device—much smaller, of course, and disguised as a music box. I checked with him, and made sure he could send updates if something were to happen."
"I've never seen anything like this," I admitted. "My father works with anchor crystals every day, but nothing this sophisticated."
"The Assembly keeps the best technology for themselves," Vic said with more than a hint of bitterness. "They don't want ordinary citizens having this level of communication capability."
He brightened suddenly, gesturing to the other contraptions crowding the small space.
"There are plenty of other devices that wayfarers use to navigate the Gallery.
Current detectors, void pressure gauges, realm proximity alarms." His hands moved excitedly as he spoke.
"They all take considerable skill and time to master. "
"Did you build all of these?" I asked, impressed.
"Some. Others I've modified or repaired. Before I joined Cypher's crew, I was studying to be an Assembly scholar. Theoretical void mechanics."
That surprised me. "What happened?"
"I asked too many questions." His smile was rueful. "The Assembly prefers obedience to curiosity."
A soft chime suddenly rang out from the communicator. Vic's eyebrows shot up. "Perfect timing," he said, hurrying to the device. "We're receiving a transmission."
I watched in amazement as the needle began to move on its own, scratching thin lines onto the parchment. The anchor crystals pulsed with light, their glow intensifying.
Vic leaned in close to the parchment as the needle scratched across it, his eyes narrowing.
"What does it say?" I asked, peering over his shoulder at the thin lines forming letters.
He waited until the needle stopped moving, then carefully detached the parchment and held it up to the light. "It's from Sandarus," he said, scanning the message. "Small realm in the shallows. Mostly desert landscape, quite remote."
"Sandarus?" The name was somewhat familiar. "What's the message about?"
Vic's expression brightened slightly. "There's a settlement of Nytherian refugees there. They've established a small community in one of the more hospitable regions near an oasis." He tapped the parchment. "They send periodic check-ins with head counts, resource levels, that sort of thing."
My heart quickened. "Cypher's people? More survivors?"
"Yes. About forty-seven families at last count. According to this, all is well there. No Assembly presence detected, stable food and water supplies." He looked up at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "They've even started cultivating native plants for medicine."
I felt a rush of something like hope. "Does Cypher know about this settlement?"
"Of course. He helped establish it after the fall of Nytheris.
It's one of sixteen refugee camps we maintain contact with.
" Vic carefully rolled the parchment. "This is why the work we're doing is so important.
These people have been living in hiding for years, scattered across realms. The new Nytheris would give them a home again. "
I tried to imagine it, the families huddled in a desert realm, clinging to the remnants of their culture, waiting for the day they could rebuild. Waiting for Cypher to fulfill his promise.
"How many Nytherians survived in total?" I asked.
"Hard to say exactly. Maybe a few thousand across all realms." Vic's expression grew somber. "They were a small civilization to begin with, and the collapse was... devastating, obviously."
The weight of Cypher's responsibility suddenly seemed more tangible. This wasn't just about reclaiming a crown or rebuilding a legacy. It was about saving what remained of an entire people.
"Why didn't he tell me about the settlements?" I wondered aloud.
Vic shrugged, placing the message in a drawer filled with similar scrolls. "Security, primarily. The fewer people who know their locations, the safer they are. The Assembly still considers Nytherians a threat."
I knew that, even though it sounded insane. "Even refugees? Even children?"
"Especially them." Vic's voice hardened. "The Assembly fears what they can't control. Nytherians possess knowledge about void travel and realm creation that could undermine Assembly authority. Even their children inherit certain... aptitudes."
I thought of Cypher, of the way he navigated the Gallery with such confidence, of his innate understanding of portal mechanics. Were all his people so naturally attuned to the void?
"Will we visit these settlements? Once we've established the new realm?"
"That's the plan. Gather the refugees, bring them home." Vic smiled wistfully. "Some of them have never seen Nytheris, and were born in hiding. Imagine what it would mean to them, having a place where they don't have to look over their shoulders."
I could only dream of such a world.
I found myself perched high on the observation platform near the sails, legs dangling over the edge as I balanced the codex on my lap.
The ship rested silently on the dusty ground below, a strange sight without water or dark Gallery to support it.
From this height, I could see for miles across the dead landscape, the mountains rising in the distance like ancient sentinels.
The leather binding of the codex felt warm beneath my fingers as I carefully turned another page. Most of the text remained unintelligible to me, flowing Nytherian script that looked more like art than language. But Cypher and Vic had spent hours translating sections, writing notes in the margins.
I traced my finger along one such passage, squinting to make out Vic's cramped script:
"The Genesis Engine exists beyond conventional space, anchored within the First Dark itself. Not a device as we understand machines, but a nexus point where the raw creative force of the void can be harnessed and directed."
Below it, Cypher had added: "Requires a powerful rift to activate—someone who can commune directly with the First Dark."
Someone like me. The thought made my stomach twist with anxiety. I turned to another page, finding a sketch of what appeared to be a rough cut crystal with lines of energy connecting them like a web. More notes crowded the margins:
"The Engine responds to intent. The stronger the will, the more precise the creation. Caution: unfocused desires produce unpredictable results."
I closed the book with a sigh, suddenly overwhelmed by the responsibility looming before me. Click chirped softly from his perch on my knee, his large eyes fixed on my face with that unnerving knowing.
"What am I supposed to do with all this?
" I asked, scratching gently behind his ear holes.
"Everyone's counting on me to build an entire realm.
" I leaned back on my hands, staring at the colorless sky.
"What if I can't do it? What if I try and fail?
Or worse, what if I try and something goes terribly wrong? "
I looked back down as Click tilted his head, his expression somehow both sympathetic and completely neutral at the same time.
"The First Dark already reached for me once," I continued, voicing fears I hadn't shared with anyone else. "What if it's not done with me? What if connecting to it changes me somehow? Makes me something... not human anymore?"
Click chittered softly, placing one tiny clawed hand on my finger.
I smiled. "You know what? You're the best listener I've ever met. No judgment, no unsolicited advice." I stroked his soft scales. "Though I suppose that's easy when you can't talk back."