The flicker-light of the arc-soldering iron danced across Elara’s face. Tiny sparks peppered the grit-dusted workbench. The experimental Chrono-Stabilizer Relay lay in pieces, a miniature tangle of filigreed copper and crystalline coils. Its Temporal Differential Regulator hummed a weak, uneven note. She needed a specific alloy, a particular blend of aetherium and lead, for the damper springs. Something only Grand-Uncle Silas had ever perfected. Her usual vendors dismissed such esoteric requests with a shrug. The formula was lost, they claimed. Or worse, deemed impractical. Elara knew better. Nothing in House Finch was truly lost, merely… misplaced. Or deliberately obscured. She wiped grease from her brow. The workshop air hung heavy with ozone and spent solvents. Another delicate operation teetering on the edge of success, or explosive failure. The Relay pulsed again, a sickly green. It needed that specialized damper. She needed Silas. ---

The Weight of Ghost Gears