Falling felt like drowning in cold iron. Wind ripped the breath straight from my throat, tearing at my leather clothes as the sky-dock spun away into a blur of grey mist and burning stone. Gravity dragged me down toward the endless abyss beneath the floating city. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, trapped animal desperate for escape. Desperation clawed at my chest. Air roared in my ears, deafening and brutal, threatening to tear my eyelids open. Below me, the massive, rusted hull of a low-flying cargo skiff cut through the smog-choked lower skies. It was moving too fast, a lumbering beast of iron and rotting wood used to haul coal to the lower furnaces. Bracing for impact, I tucked my limbs close and prayed to whatever gods still listened to the damned. Canvas ripped with a sound like a thunderclap as my body slammed into the skiff’s cargo cover. Splinters bit into my shoulder, tearing through my clothes. Agony flared through my ribs, white-hot and blinding, forcing a choked scream from my lungs. Rolling hard, I tumbled across the wooden deck, smelling oil, wet coal, and raw, unwashed wool. My fingers scraped against rough, splintered planks, searching for any purchase. I stopped sliding just inches from the edge of the deck, staring down into the terrifying, empty drop below the floating docks. Gasps of freezing air rattled in my chest as I forced myself to sit up. Bruised and bleeding, I dragged my battered frame behind a stack of rusted iron crates. Every muscle screamed in protest, a chorus of agony that threatened to make me vomit. Blood dripped from a cut on my forehead, warm and sticky against my cold skin. I pressed a hand to my ribs, checking for broken bones. Only cracked, thank the gods, but every breath felt like a hot needle plunging into my lung. Voices echoed from the cabin at the front of the skiff. Two crewmen were arguing about the sudden tear in their cargo cover, their rough accents carrying over the rumble of the steam engine. I couldn't afford to be seen. If they caught me, they would hand me over to the Inquisitors for a handful of copper coins. Lying flat against the coal-dust-covered floor, I waited as the skiff drifted lower. Black smoke poured from the vessel's exhaust pipes, coating my face in soot. It tasted like sulfur and metal, a familiar flavor in the slums of Aeltheria. We were passing the outer ring of the Iron Quarter now. --- Soot drifted through the air like black snow as the skiff drifted lower into the underbelly of the city. This was the graveyard of the empire, where the grease-stained mechanics and forgotten dregs lived in the permanent shadow of the upper spires. Smells of sulfur, cheap alcohol, and rotting fish choked the narrow alleyways below. I waited for the skiff to slow near a rusted crane platform before throwing myself over the side. Landing on the iron grating of the walkway, I stumbled but kept my footing. Clutching my side, I slipped into the dark labyrinth of the slums. Narrow passages twisted between leaning tenements made of rusted sheet metal and rotting timber. Steam hissed from cracked brass pipes, warming the damp air but coating everything in a slick layer of grime. Nobody looked twice at a limping figure in a torn cloak. In the Iron Quarter, survival meant minding your own business and keeping your head down. I hurried toward the abandoned foundry at the edge of the district, my boots clicking softly against the wet cobblestones. My hideout lay hidden deep within the belly of a dead furnace, accessible only through a narrow vent I had pried loose months ago. Squeezing through the metal gap, I dropped onto the cold stone floor of my sanctuary. Darkness swallowed me, thick and familiar, offering a brief illusion of safety. I fumbled for a tinderbox, my hands shaking so violently I dropped the flint twice. Sparking a flame, I lit a single, stubby tallow candle. Pale light flickered across the cracked brick walls and the meager pile of belongings I called home. Stripping off my ruined leather jerkin, I groaned as the stiff fabric peeled away from my skin. Cold air hit my bare shoulders, sending a violent shiver through my frame. I reached for a cracked shard of mirror propped against a wooden crate. Reflections usually didn't scare me, but tonight, I hesitated. Looking into the glass, I flinched. Blue light pulsed beneath my skin, tracing the jagged lines of the scar on my collarbone. It looked like a living vein of lightning, throbbing in sync with my frantic pulse. This Aetherbond was waking up, and it was consuming me from the inside out. Fearing what I was becoming, I quickly turned the mirror face down against the dirt. Dirty linen bandages lay in a messy heap nearby. I grabbed a strip of the coarse, gray cloth and wound it tightly around my collarbone and shoulder. Pulling the knots tight, I gasped as the pressure bit into my raw, blistered skin. It did nothing to dull the heat. A blue glow seeped through the fibers of the linen, casting a faint, ghostly light against my neck. Why did this have to happen to me? Memories of my childhood flashed in my mind, sharp and painful. I remembered the fearful looks from my adoptive parents when the sparks first flew from my fingers. Visions of being left on the streets of the lower city with nothing but a torn blanket and a warning never to return. They called me a monster. Perhaps they were right. Shaking, I reached into my belt pouch and pulled out the stolen Aether-crystals. Three small, jagged shards of pure, crystalline blue glowed faintly in my palm. They were supposed to be my salvation. If I could channel the excess magic into them, perhaps I could quiet the raging storm in my blood and buy myself some time. I closed my fist around the cold crystals, focusing all my energy on transferring the heat. "Take it," I whispered, my voice raw and desperate. "Just take it away." Nothing happened for a long, agonizing second. Then, a sudden, blinding spike of energy surged from my palm. Shattering glass echoed through the small room as the Aether-crystals violently exploded. Sharp fragments sliced into my palm, drawing fresh, crimson blood. I cried out, dropping the useless, smoking dust of the broken gems. Before the dust could settle, a massive, deafening sound roared inside my skull. *Thump-thump.* It was a heartbeat, heavy and ancient, vibrating through my very teeth. My vision blurred, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming sensory onslaught. I fell to my knees, clawing at my ears, but the sound wasn't coming from the outside. *Thump-thump.* It thrummed through the soles of my boots, rising from the deep earth. Images flashed behind my closed eyelids: dark, flooded stone arches, ancient runes carved into crumbling pillars, and a deep, black pool of water. A mental pull was magnetic, tugging at my soul like a hook. It was pointing me somewhere specific. Understanding washed over me through the haze of pain. That ancient source of the heartbeat lay deep beneath the city's main reservoir, hidden in the forgotten catacombs. Something was down there. Something ancient, powerful, and sleeping. And it was calling directly to me. Slowly, that deafening thrum subsided into a low, vibrating hum at the base of my neck. I dragged myself back to my feet, wiping blood and sweat from my face. If Inquisitors found out what was calling me, they would tear the city apart to destroy it. I had to get there first. Footsteps crunched on the gravel outside my vent. My hand instantly flew to the hilt of my dagger, my muscles locking in defensive preparation. Nobody knew about this place. Nobody except one person. A shadow fell over my doorway, and I looked up to find my fence, Jax, holding a stained parchment containing a fresh imperial bounty matching my exact height, cloak, and glowing blue scar.

Chapter 2: The First Slumbering Spark