The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the academy's courtyard below, their gentle hum barely audible through the thick glass surrounding the bulbs. Students, newly freed from their club activities where they had been kept since the academy went into lockdown, trickled out in groups much later than usual.

  Instructors had held everyone inside until an all-clear was given, and now they were being directed home or to their dormitories and away from the courtyard in small clusters. Some had caught glimpses of the destruction or heard the sounds of battle, and gossip was already spreading like wildfire. It was clear, though, that most of it was speculation.

  Despite every effort to force the students to vacate the school grounds, the academy buzzed with unusual activity. Normally a peaceful, serene silence would have blanketed the school at this hour, but clusters of students still lingered in small groups, sharing whispered theories about the commotion they'd heard from their classrooms.

  Rina had been forgotten by the staff and instructors during the chaos, left to her own devices while everyone else was ushered to safety.

  And she had watched everything unfold from the window of that empty classroom.

  Rina leaned back against the window frame, arms crossed. From her vantage point during the battle, she had a perfect view of Lowell Brandt, and she knew more than most of the other students about what had really happened.

  It had been impressive. The way he handled that nightmare. Even now, recalling it, she could feel the excitement coursing through her veins. He fought with a calmness that was rare, his movements precise and calculated. She would need someone like that in Cross Company.

  Her father had always said that a captain was nothing without a crew. But a captain who let an opportunity slip away? That was worse.

  She had followed the students who'd taken Lowell to receive medical attention, positioning herself where she could watch for his discharge. Now, as she stood there reflecting on her guild plans, her gaze flicked toward the empty infirmary. She had lost sight of him.

  "Dammit," she muttered under her breath.

  She bolted from her perch across from the sciences wing that housed the medical ward, taking the stairs two at a time, her boots echoing against the stone floors. The academy corridors had mostly emptied out by now, any remaining students had been herded toward the gates. There was no need to weave through clusters of loitering students as she rushed through the halls of the academy. She stepped out onto the front grounds just in time to spot Lowell and Bart emerging from the main building.

  "Hey! Hold up!" Rina called out, breaking into a jog.

  Lowell turned first, looking mildly surprised, though not particularly concerned. Bart, adjusting his weight on his crutches, scowled.

  "Who the hell are you?" Bart asked, shifting slightly as he planted one crutch forward.

  Rina ignored him. She stopped directly in front of Lowell, standing tall despite her average height, hands planted firmly on her hips in a stance that radiated confidence. Her reddish-brown hair was cut short and practical, styled with the kind of no-nonsense efficiency that suggested she had better things to do than fuss with elaborate hairstyles. A pair of brass-rimmed goggles perched atop her head like a crown, their lenses catching the fading light with an almost mechanical gleam. "You're amazing. The way you handled that nightmare. I saw it all!"

  Bart narrowed his eyes, his patience clearly worn thin by fatigue and pain. "Hey. I asked you a question."

  She barely glanced his way, her sharp, intelligent eyes holding the focused intensity of someone who saw the world as a series of problems waiting to be solved. "Rina," she answered quickly, as if it were an afterthought. Then, without missing a beat, she turned back to Lowell. "Where did you learn to fight like that? Not only did you save Helena Oxford, you also saved this oaf here." She gestured vaguely at Bart.

  Bart bristled, his fingers clenching around the grip of his crutches. "Hey, I held my own out there!"

  "Yeah, sure," Rina deadpanned.

  "You're a student here, right? A first-year? Shouldn't you have gone home already?" Bart asked, still trying to figure out why Rina was here, harassing them after everything they'd just been through.

  Rina's eyes narrowed with the kind of focused irritation that suggested she was calculating exactly how much of Bart's interference she was willing to tolerate. "Of course I'm a student, why else would I be wearing this uniform."

  Bart shrugged; she had a point. It was a stupid question.

  Rina, still visibly agitated, continued her critique of Bart's performance in the dangerous battle with the nightmare. "You would have been ripped to shreds if it hadn't been for Lowell." She spun away from Bart, crossing her arms in a dismissive motion that made her modified uniform shift with the movement.

  Bart opened his mouth to fire back, but before he could, Rina continued, eyes gleaming. "But seriously. Lowell, right? You're exactly the type of person I need."

  Lowell, who had been silent up until now, finally tilted his head slightly. "For what?"

  Rina took a step closer. "For my guild."

  Lowell blinked. "Your what?"

  "My guild. Well, technically a student club right now, but—" she waved a hand dismissively—"semantics." She extended her hand, a confident grin on her face. "Lowell Brandt, I'm your new guild captain, Rina Cross. Welcome aboard."

  The words "I'm your new guild captain" sounded foreign to her as she spoke them. They carried with them an echo of promises she'd made to herself, and to her father. It was then, for Rina, Cross Company became something more than just a dream.

  Lowell stared at her outstretched hand, his expression unreadable.

  Bart scratched his head. "What? Since when did we join a guild?"

  "Not you, you grahl!" Rina shot back, then grabbed Lowell by the arm, tugging him away. "Him. Lowell."

  Lowell didn't resist at first, too caught off guard by her sheer audacity.

  Lowell's eyebrows raised. "Hold on. I don't remember joining a guild."

  Rina grinned. "Don't worry. You've been drafted."

  Lowell barely had time to react before she tightened her grip and pulled him forward, walking briskly toward the academy gates.

  Bart remained standing there, dumbfounded. It took him a second to process what had just happened before he called out, "Hey! Hey, what do you think you're doing!?"

  Rina didn't slow down. Instead, she spun around while still dragging Lowell along, walking backward with the same unwavering confidence. She stuck her tongue out at Bart, then added a mocking gesture—one common among children in the Guild Marches—before turning back to face forward.

  Bart scoffed, shifting his weight on his crutches. His hesitation lasted only a second before he struggled forward, trying to catch up. His injured leg made pursuit difficult, but that didn't stop him from trying.

  Meanwhile, Lowell finally wrenched his arm free. "Okay, seriously. What's going on?"

  Rina let out an exaggerated sigh, as if exhausted by his lack of understanding. They were now a good twenty meters away from the school gate.

  "My guild, Cross Company, could use a member like you. I want you to be the subcommander."

  Lowell folded his arms. "Why?"

  Rina began ticking off points on her fingers. "Because I need someone like you," as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're an excellent swordsman. You keep a cool head under pressure. You put your life on the line to save a friend and someone you didn't even know."

  She leaned forward slightly. "And honestly? I can tell you're not the type to just sit in a classroom and let life pass by."

  Lowell studied her. The fire in her eyes wasn't just for show. She believed in what she was saying.

  "I'm not interested in joining a guild," Lowell said finally.

  "Not even one that could take you places?" Rina's expression softened, just for a moment. She looked away, toward the city beyond the academy. "I want to make a difference. And I think I can start here."

  Lowell said nothing.

  Standing before him, Rina sighed. "You saved lives today, but you don't know what it's like to wake up every morning wondering if someone you love is still out there somewhere, waiting for you to find them." Her voice wavered slightly, and her eyes met Lowell's, filled with determination.

  Lowell opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Something in her voice had struck a chord he didn't want to examine too closely.

  "Hey!" Bart was hobbling toward them, still not used to managing the crutches.

  "Just... think about it." Rina turned on her heels, the words carrying the weight of a plea, before she dashed off, exiting the academy through the gates. Lowell stood there alone for a moment, watching her retreat, until Bart finally reached him.

  "What... was... that... all about?" Bart was slightly out of breath, irritated, and altogether done with this entire situation.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "She wants me to join her guild."

  Bart's eyes followed Rina as she disappeared down the street with an incredulous look, then turned back to Lowell. "And you're actually considering it?"

  Lowell's gaze lingered on the spot where Rina had vanished. "I don't know," he said quietly.

  Bart huffed. "She's a strange girl."

  #

  The hiss of steam and clatter of machinery filled the air as Rina made her way through the bustling streets of Essengard.

  Of the city's seven boroughs, each had a distinct character. Essengard's was practical. Pragmatic. Industrious.

  The district's wide avenues were designed to channel torrents of goods and colossal machines, facilitating its industries. They stretched out in straight lines, intersected at right angles by other streets, all beneath the moon's watchful eye.

  Essengard rarely slept.

  Above, airships drifted silently, their shapes a silhouette against the glow of Theia's twin moons. One a full disc, the other broken, yet still beautiful. On the streets below them, guilders started their night shifts in the factories and airship yards.

  The cool night air carried the sharp scent of burning oil, mixed with the tang of metal shavings and a faint trace of aether. Rina found irony in the quiet contrast around her. The very heart of unyielding industry, where the night somehow softened the harsh lines of steel and machinery.

  A moment of introspection crept over Rina as her thoughts turned to Dahncrest and the Guild Marches. To the central philosophy that shaped Guild Society as a whole. One that she clung to.

  She gazed up at the airships passing overhead. Every cog, bolt, and conduit worked in unison to create something both beautiful and functional. No part was more important than another; only by coming together could they achieve something greater than the sum of their parts. In Essengard, those same ideals were alive in everything, reflecting a rare equity that mirrored the ideals of the Guild Marches themselves. "Just as it should be," she murmured, her voice blending with the hum of industry.

  Her sturdy boots echoed against the metal-grated sidewalks as she passed by rows of sprawling factories and research facilities. Towering chimneys belched slow, rhythmic puffs of smoke into a sky where the stars had only begun to assert themselves.

  Far off, the steady clang of hammers on steel resonated from the airship drydocks, where master craftsmen molded not only metal but the very future of Dahncrest's skyways. The gentle hum of a trolley passed her by on its way to the leyrail terminus at West Station. Everything a reminder that even under the blanket of the stars above, the city continued to move.

  A few figures moved through the industrial landscape, their silhouettes dark against the factory lights. A grizzled foreman, wiping sweat and grime from his face in the pale light, called out to a nearby colleague. Rina imagined he might be saying something about building tomorrow, about each bolt and beam mattering. Their voices, weathered and resolute, lent a human warmth to the mechanical rhythm around her.

  Essengard's role as the industrial core of Dahncrest shone brightly even in the darkness. Every shipment arriving at the bustling airdocks and every cargo movement along the rail reinforced its vital presence. Yet, beneath the ceaseless flow of commerce, proud institutions like the Valenyard Research Center near Obahl Gate stood as beacons of inquiry and progress, a subtle counterpoint that kept the district from feeling purely mechanical or soulless.

  Despite the late hour, the rail station pulsed with subdued activity. Trains arrived and departed like silver streaks in the night, ferrying travelers and laborers between distant reaches while a modest food court offered warm bowls of noodles and hearty late-night sandwiches, moments of solace amid the urban symphony.

  Not far off, West Market's night bazaar stirred to life with stalls decorated in vibrant colors and boasting exotic wares. The market's lanterns, set with aethryte crystals that cast soft blue and violet hues, hummed with magical energy. Their light danced on polished surfaces and wove patterns across the rain-damp cobblestones.

  Rina felt both the weight and the wonder of her home. Here the relentless march of industry softened into a rhythmic, almost meditative cadence. A reminder that even amid the mechanical rigor, the spirit of community and the promise of a brighter, equitable future endured.

  As she continued along her path, the moonlight reflecting off metal and mist alike, Rina's eyes glinted with quiet determination. For every echoing clank of metal and every whisper of steam in the night, she heard the echoes of countless dreams. Even in darkness, the heart of Dahncrest beat with the resilient rhythm of those daring enough to forge tomorrow.

  Essengard's harsh, mechanical beauty stood in stark contrast to the warmth of Rina's small apartment, tucked away in a quieter corner near Wall Street. The building, once a storage depot, had been converted into modest living quarters for workers and their families. Its industrial bones were still visible. Exposed pipes snaked along the ceilings, and the walls were a patchwork of metal and brick. But Rina had made the space her own.

  Climbing the narrow, creaking stairs that groaned under every footstep, Rina finally reached the loft she had painstakingly transformed into her guild office.

  The room was a chaotic blend of ambition and clutter. Papers lay strewn across the floor, maps of Dahncrest's boroughs pinned haphazardly to the walls alongside blueprints of airships and rail systems. A single glow orb hung from a cord of twisted wires, casting a soft, flickering light over the mess.

  With a heavy yet determined sigh, Rina dropped her battered leather bag by the door and sank to her knees amid the sprawl of documents. Withdrawing a single folder from her bag, she set it down beside her. It bore in scratched penmanship the name "Cross Company," her guild. The scent of aged paper mingled with the faint trace of oil from the workshop below, evoking memories of late nights spent with her father and brother fixing airship engines.

  "It must be in here somewhere..." she whispered to herself as her skilled fingers began to sift urgently through the piles of paper. Each movement was deliberate as she hunted for one document in particular that had haunted her thoughts since witnessing the brutal fight for survival earlier that day.

  In a forgotten corner of the room, almost obscured by shadow and neglect, sat a battered box embossed with the proud seal of Orus Guild Academy. This box had once held every student record from the start of this semester, but now lay empty. These records, not exactly public, were the same files she was scrutinizing now.

  Before her student guild had been given an official club space in the Aether Wing, Cross Company had temporarily operated from a small, unused office in Irving Hall. The room was cluttered with boxes similar to the one that now sat in her loft, temporary storage for physical records waiting to be destroyed because their contents had already been transcribed into the data exchange.

  Rina had found it difficult to make friends, let alone recruit students to her guild. These records, which were to be disposed of anyway, were an opportunity that she couldn't pass up. From first-years to third-years, she could assess the skills and find perfect candidates for Cross Company's roster, all without having to actually make unnecessary small talk.

  The missing records had gone unnoticed, a silent testament to the academy's mismanagement. This neglect, whether born of bureaucratic indifference or fundamental ineptitude, had allowed Rina to secure the records for herself. It was risky, but for Rina, the risk was outweighed by the potential reward.

  Then, amid the rustle of paper and the steady beat of her heart, her fingers brushed against the folder she was looking for: "Lowell Brandt, Orus Guild Academy."

  For a suspended moment, time seemed to hold its breath. With trembling excitement, she flipped open the folder. Lowell had seemed wholly unremarkable when he first arrived at the academy and she hadn't given him much thought among the many other candidates she was considering for the guild. He was, after all, labeled a troublemaker almost from day one and Rina wanted to avoid anything that might challenge the legitimacy of her efforts to build Cross Company.

  Inside, his record was sparse and didn't do much to dispel the mystery that surrounded him.

  "Former member of the Black Boars guild, ward of Ulster Schwartz." Rina read aloud, quietly.

  A chill passed over her. "No mention of his past." The words escaped almost breathlessly. No parents listed, only a guardian. No details on what his life had been before becoming Schwartz's ward. Even his residence was reduced to a clinical note: the guild-city of Dahn Lyra, listed not as a home but merely as the administrative headquarters of the Black Boars. Every detail was intentionally minimal, as if designed to erase the past and leave behind only lingering questions.

  She couldn't help but see a mirror of herself in Lowell's limited record.

  Rina's heart pounded as she absorbed the implications. While Orus had opened its doors to students from all backgrounds, most still came with family connections or clear paths to success. Yet here was Lowell Brandt, an anomaly who seemed to have neither. His record suggested someone who had earned his place through merit alone, not through the influence of a powerful family or the promise of future patronage.

  "And Lowell..."

  Her mind raced as she envisioned the enigmatic young man. His guarded eyes, quiet strength, and the level of experience that surpassed any other student at Orus. He was unlike anyone else. He was exactly what Cross Company needed, the missing piece that would allow her to transform the guild into something formidable.

  Rina closed the folder. "Lowell must become my subcommander," she declared. His skills were undeniable, but it was his reluctance to join that intrigued her most. Convincing him would be a challenge, but Rina thrived on challenges.

  She closed her eyes, letting the distant sound of her brother's tools clinking in the workshop below wash over her. The steady rhythm of metal on metal drifted up through the floorboards, a mechanical lullaby that tugged at memories she hadn't visited in years.

  For her, the cluttered loft faded, replaced by the sun-drenched afternoons of her childhood. She could almost feel the warm, rough wood of the workbench beneath her small hands, hear the hearty laugh of her father as he showed her how to tighten a bolt just right, his fingers guiding hers with a patience she had treasured. The smell of grease and oil mixed with the sweet tang of her mother's baking from the tiny kitchen, filling the house with a strange, comforting harmony.

  Her brother had always been by their father's side, fascinated by the intricate workings of engines and circuits. Unlike their father, who had once soared the skies with an adventurous spirit, her brother had no desire to leave the ground. He found his purpose in the hum of Essengard's machines, in mending airships and perfecting engines. That life grounded him, gave him a sense of stability Rina never understood.

  Rina, on the other hand, had always felt the pull of the unknown. She remembered sneaking out at dusk, climbing onto the rooftop to watch the airships disappear into the horizon, imagining herself aboard one of them, chasing uncharted territories and untold stories. The city's heartbeat had always felt too small for her, its streets too predictable. She craved the thrill of discovery, the kind of adventures that couldn't be mapped or measured in mechanical schematics.

  Her thoughts drifted naturally from those rooftop reveries to the old photograph pinned to the wall—a snapshot of her past and a symbol of everything she longed for. In the faded image, her father stood proudly beside an experimental airship, his arm slung around a younger Rina, her eyes wide with wonder and cheeks flushed with excitement. The memory of that day came rushing back with vivid clarity: the sun glinting off the polished metal of the airship, the rough feel of her father's flight jacket under her fingers as she clung to his side, the crisp, cool breeze of a late autumn day.

  That same spark from her childhood, the unyielding desire to carve her own path through the skies, burned in her now, fiercer than ever. She could almost hear her father's voice, filled with pride and encouragement, echoing in her mind. It wasn't just about adventure anymore; it was about building something lasting.

  Rina pushed herself to her feet. Lowell Brandt wasn't just a potential guild member. He was the cornerstone of the legacy she was determined to build.

  Her thoughts wandered back to her conversation with Lowell. During their exchange, her mask had cracked, if only briefly, as she made her appeal. She hadn't meant to show any vulnerability, but just before she left, before she ran, she'd caught a subtle shift in his expression. Though he had been reluctant to join and even rejected her offer outright, she sensed that for a moment, he might have reconsidered.

  Alone in the quiet of her loft, the soft glow of an orb casting faint light and the distant rhythm of metal on metal filling the air, Rina slid Lowell's folder into the Cross Company roster and placed it on the table. She made a silent promise: I won't be defined by what was taken from me. Her heart ached for her missing father, but she refused to let go of the hope she had clung to since his disappearance. She recalled his words: "Aim higher."

  "That's exactly what I'm going to do, Dad. I'm going to build something. Just you wait and see."

  Turning back to scattered papers on the floor she sank back to her knees and continued her search for other strong members to join her guild. But as she worked, her mind kept returning to Lowell's face when she had spoken of missing someone. The way his expression had shifted, as if he understood exactly what she meant.

  Maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who could help her build the guild she dreamed of. Someone who understood what it meant to lose everything and still refuse to give up.

  As she worked, the glow orb above seemed to pulse with an energy that matched Rina's own. A guild that would make a difference. A guild that would find her father.