Cold pressed through thin blanket weave, damp against Anna''s cheek. Rough fibers scratched skin. A floorboard groaned—a sound from the dark space across the room, loud in the quiet. Outside, ocean sounds – a deep rush, then a long watery hiss against sand, over and over. Stillness inside.


    Then, a shift beneath the blanket.


    Fire bloomed beneath her ribs, sharp, spreading outward. Air snagged raw in her throat. A low groan tore free, muffled against the rough pillow. Her body locked rigid. Muscles seized against the sudden, intense pulse of pain. Eyes snapped open. Stared unfocused into near-blackness above. Ceiling beams swam, indistinct shadows against deeper gloom. Grit scraped behind her eyelids.


    Her breath came shallow, fast. Each tiny intake pulled fresh fire across her side. Sweat beaded cold on her forehead despite the room''s chill. She squeezed her eyes shut. Pressed lips tight against another groan. The movement sent a fresh jolt through her torso. Stay still. Just... still.


    Floorboards creaked near the hearth—a soft sound beneath the wind''s low moan outside. A shadow detached from deeper darkness near the far wall. Miriam. Her shape moved slow, silent across packed earth, then onto planks near the cot. A faint chamomile scent drifted closer.


    A hand touched Anna''s forehead. Cool pressure against hot skin. Anna flinched, a sharp jerk pulling another gasp from her. Her eyes flew open again, wide now, pupils large in the dimness. Miriam''s silhouette bent close.


    "Easy, Anna," Miriam murmured, her voice a low thread against the wave sounds. She withdrew her hand slightly. "Just checking the fever." Her other hand came into view, holding a damp cloth. It hovered near Anna''s face. "Can I?"


    Anna stared up at her mother''s shadowed face. Lines showed deep around eyes reflecting no light. She didn''t speak. Didn''t nod. But the tightness in her shoulders lessened slightly. Her gaze dropped, unfocused, towards the side wall.


    The damp cloth pressed cool against Anna''s forehead again. She closed her eyes. Coolness pressed against the pulsing heat behind her eyelids, against the sharper fire in her side. Muscles burned from yesterday''s climb. Miriam wiped slow across her forehead, down her temples. The cloth dragged faint grit left from the plateau''s wind.


    Lia looked up from her dust pattern, watched Miriam, looked back at Anna''s still face. She picked up the wooden bird. Set it down again. Returned to tracing loops in the dust. Scritch... scratch. Wind sighed outside. Waves crashed.


    The cottage door groaned wider on protesting hinges. Cold wind pressed inward, carrying the damp, mineral scent of wet earth, a sharp metallic tang. Dust swirled brief, thick near the threshold. Kassia stepped inside, Milo a pace behind. Kassia''s patched jacket looked dark, heavy with dampness; her dark hair lay flat, slick against her skull. Milo''s face showed pale beneath a mask of grime, eyes wide, fixed low. Scraped knuckles on his hands stood out raw, red. Kassia held a handful of twisted metal pieces. Milo clutched a larger, warped panel tight against his chest.


    Kassia stopped short. Her gaze swept over Anna in the chair—propped upright, eyes vacant—then dropped sharp to Lia''s bandaged hand resting near Anna''s feet, before snapping quick to Miriam near the counter. Milo hung back near the door, boots shifting uneasy on the floorboards, gaze locked on the packed earth between his feet.


    "Miriam," Kassia began, voice low, tired. She let the scrap metal fall onto the bench near the door. A harsh CLANG echoed through the quiet room. "Just fragments. Bolts... some wiring... Joren''s crew..." She shook her head, the movement sharp, water droplets flying faint. She rubbed a hand hard across her damp forehead. "Took the purifier demo down dockside earlier."


    Miriam turned from her herbs, head tilted. The question showed in the slight lift of her eyebrows, the pause in her hands. "The demo? Sent?" Miriam''s lips formed the words, her voice low.


    Kassia nodded slow. She leaned heavy against the doorframe, one shoulder sagging. "Ruvick got word. Mara, from Lowtide. Flare signal last night. Pump failed again. Bad." Kassia glanced quick at Anna''s still form, then back at Miriam, eyes avoiding direct contact with Anna. "Ruvick found a fisher who knew the route—took weeks tracking East Iris. Near Veyra. So Ruvick sent the demo. Sea Lark left this morning. Figured... better than nothing." Her voice dropped lower, rougher at the edges. "It''s not the full rig, Miriam. Small one. Won''t last."


    Milo flinched at the name "East Iris." His head lifted slight. His gaze locked hard on Kassia, jaw tight. "They... get help?" he whispered, the word pulling taut from his throat. "After... him?" His hands clenched white around the warped panel edge. He stared down at it again, shoulders hunching low, frame curling inward.


    Miriam crossed the floor, footsteps soft. Her hand pressed light on Kassia''s arm. "Ruvick''s call," Miriam said, her voice pitched low, steady. "Right... to try." Her eyes flickered towards Milo, brow creasing faint, then back to Anna''s still profile. Silence stretched, holding only the wind''s low sigh outside and the rhythmic crash of waves far below.


    Anna sat. The sounds – demo, East Iris, Ruvick, Mara – were pressure shifts in the air, like the wind against the shutters. Milo''s choked whisper caused a faint tightening along Anna''s jaw, a flicker beneath the surface stillness. Her breath hitched once, sharp, pulling fire across her ribs, then settled back into its shallow pattern. Her eyes remained fixed on the dark water stain spreading across the ceiling boards. The sounds stayed outside the gray space holding her.


    "Rest," Miriam said, her voice pitched low near Kassia''s ear. She squeezed the younger woman''s arm gently. "Both of you."


    Kassia nodded, head dipping once, gaze dropping to the floor. She looked one last time at Anna, mouth pressed thin, then turned. She nudged Milo towards the door. He moved , feet dragging heavy, still clutching the warped panel. The door groaned shut behind them. Wind sighed against the wood. Waves crashed far below. Miriam stood near the closed door for a long moment, Then back to Anna, head bowed slight, before turning back to her quiet tasks at the counter.


    Light shifted inside the cottage; the sharp bars across the floor softened, stretched longer. Dust motes drifted slow in the hazy shafts. The air felt warmer now, thick with the scent of drying herbs. Outside, the wind''s low sigh persisted. Waves crashed far below, a heavy pulse. Anna sat fixed on the chair. Her gaze rested on the cold hearth stones across the room. Lia slept nearby, small breaths soft in the quiet. Miriam sat opposite, needle moving slow, rhythmic through cloth.


    A shadow fell across the open threshold. Miriam looked up. A figure stood there—Silas. His white hair looked wilder than usual, catching the light. His familiar patched vest hung loose on his wiry frame. He held his battered cap clutched in both hands, knuckles showing white. He stepped inside, boots scuffing soft on the packed earth.


    "Miriam," Silas began. His voice sounded lower, rougher than usual. He stopped just inside. His gaze flickered towards Anna''s still form, then quick away. He cleared his throat. "Just got back... run near the orchards. Heard..." He twisted the cap, worn fabric creasing dark under his grip.


    Miriam set her needlework down. The silence held for a breath, broken only by the wind outside. She rose, the floorboards creaking faint. She walked towards Silas, placing a hand light on his arm. Her lips moved; low sounds, murmurs, too faint for Anna to catch clearly against the wave sounds. Silas listened, head bent. His shoulders seemed lower, less sharp than usual.


    He looked past Miriam, towards Anna in the chair. He nodded once, slow. Miriam stepped aside. Silas approached the chair, footsteps soft. He stopped beside it. His knees bent, lowering him slow to kneel, joints cracking faint. His face entered Anna''s peripheral vision—lines etched deep around his eyes, mouth pulled into a tight line."Anna, lass?" His voice came gentle, rasping low near her ear. "It''s Silas." He waited. Anna''s gaze remained fixed on the hearth stones. Her breathing stayed shallow, even. He tried again, his voice dropping lower still. "Fierce flyer... Storms don''t keep you down long, girl."


    Silence returned. Only the wind, the waves, Lia''s soft breaths. Silas sighed, a puff of air stirring dust near the floor. A slight rustle of cloth. His hand moved near the small table beside her chair. A soft clink. Metal on wood. He stayed kneeling for another moment, his shape a dark block near her knee. His eyes scanned her face—the pale skin, the bandages, the vacant stare. The lines around his own eyes seemed to deepen.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    He straightened, slow, his knees cracking again. He met Miriam''s gaze across the room. Miriam''s head gave a slight, imperceptible shake, lips pressed thin. Silas nodded once, a final, curt movement. He turned and walked back towards the door, boots scuffing soft on the earth floor. He stepped out into the hazy afternoon light. The door swung partway shut behind him with a soft click, leaving the cottage dimmer, the silence pressing closer. Anna remained still, gaze fixed ahead, towards the hearth. On the table beside her, untouched, a small, polished gear gleamed faint in the remaining light.


    Light slanted lower through the shutter cracks, bars of dusty amber stretching long across the packed earth floor towards the cold hearth. Outside, the wind picked up faint, whistling low around the cottage eaves. Miriam moved near the back wall. Wood scraped rough against wood—the sound muted, heavy. A metallic clink followed. She reappeared near the edge of the lamplight, dragging a soot-stained wooden crate, its surface rough, charred black in places. Metal bands, rusted orange, bound its corners tight. She knelt beside the crate on the floor, the rough fabric of her apron brushing the dusty earth.


    Her hands moved over the crate''s surface, fingers probing joints, testing warped wood. A low grunt sounded near the floor. Her fingers slid along the bottom edge, lifted slight. A faint click. She pulled harder. Wood scraped harsh against wood. A section of the crate bottom slid away, revealing a dark hollow. Miriam paused, head bent low. Her shoulders rose sharp on a sudden intake of breath, then fell slow. Her hand moved slow into the hollow.


    Her hands emerged holding a small wooden box, carved dark, its surface smooth despite soot clinging faint. Miriam turned the box, the movement slow in the lamplight. Intricate carvings covered its lid—a stylized wing, interlocking gears—the gear-wing motif. The wood looked cool, solid. Her fingertip traced the carved lines, a slow, lingering movement. Her breathing stayed shallow for a moment before she pushed herself to her feet, the crate scraping again as she stood.Miriam crossed the floor, footsteps soft on the earth. Then She stopped beside Anna''s chair. Lamplight caught silver threads in Miriam''s hair, the deep lines around her eyes. She knelt again, the movement bringing her face level with Anna''s lap. The carved box rested solid on her knees. "Anna." Miriam''s voice, pitched low, close. She lifted the box, placed it direct onto the rough blanket covering Anna''s lap. Its weight settled, a distinct pressure. "From your father''s crate." Miriam reached out, took Anna''s limp, uninjured hand—fingers cool, unresponsive—guided it slow to the box''s lid. Anna''s fingers brushed the carved wood.


    Anna''s hand jerked slight at the contact, then stilled. Her fingers stayed pressed against the wood surface. Cool... Intricate lines... Gear teeth rough under scraped knuckles... A wing''s curve smooth beneath her palm... The tactile sensation felt sharp against the body''s numbness. Her head turned, a slow, stiff rotation. Her gaze lowered, dropped from the shadowed wall stain, down towards her lap. Her eyes focused on the dark, carved box resting heavy against the blanket. The gear-wing carving flared sharp in her vision. A fine tremor started in her hand, vibrating faint up her arm. Her breath caught, hitched shallow in her tight chest. Focus sharpened in her grayish-blue eyes. Pupils dilated slight in the dim light.


    Her fingers trembled more, the motion visible now against the dark wood. Movements slow, clumsy. They fumbled along the lid''s edge. Metal scraped faint against metal—fingernail against the small, inset clasp. Thumb pressed down. The latch sprang open. A soft click echoed loud in the quiet cottage. She lifted the lid. The hinge creaked faint. Inside, nestled against faded velvet, lay a thick, cream-colored envelope. Wax seal, imprint smudged—his workshop seal. Handwritten across the front, faded brown ink stark against pale paper: "For Anna."


    Anna stared at the envelope. Her trembling hand hovered above it. Heat pricked behind her eyes. Tears blurred the angled letters. Her fingers touched the envelope''s edge, the paper cool beneath her fingertips. An image flashed unbidden behind her eyes: his hand—large, calloused, grease-smudged—moving steady across a blueprint, guiding her own smaller hand. "Feel the line, Anna..." The sensation tightened sharp, deep in her chest. She lifted the envelope. The paper felt thin, dry. Her thumb slid under the wax seal. The wax cracked loud; brittle flakes fell onto the blanket, dark against the gray wool. Her fingers worked at the paper''s fold, each nudge stiff, the unfolding slow.


    Anna''s breath hitched, a ragged sound scraping her throat. Her trembling fingers held the unfolded page. The paper felt thin, its edges softened with age. A faint, dry scent rose from it – old paper, a hint of dust, a trace of the sharp sealant smell from his workshop. Faded brown ink covered the page in his strong hand—bold loops, sharp angles, the known upward slant. Her eyes scanned the first line, vision blurring through a hot film of tears.


    "My Anna," the words began, the ink feathered faint where the pen had pressed hard. Her finger traced the curve of the ''A'', the movement shaky.


    Air pushed sharp from her chest. A low sound tore from her, a broken gasp. She hunched lower over the page, tears dripping heavy now, splashing dark spots onto the fragile paper, blurring the ink. "If you''re reading this... well, things probably didn''t go quite as planned." Her breath caught again, sharp. He knew. The workshop... the coughing... the antiseptic smell... Her grip tightened, paper crinkling loud beneath her fingers.


    "...remember those early flights, ace? The wobbles, the rough landings? Thought we''d snap a wing clean off more than once." A tremor ran through Anna''s shoulders. A sound broke from her lips, half-laugh, half-sob. The wind... his arm steady over mine on the yoke... Her eyes followed the next lines, blurring, sharpening, blurring again.


    "Mistakes... they''re just course corrections, Anna. Part of the flight." Mistakes... The word echoed. Snapping metal, burning wreckage. I broke it. His ship. His dream. Her chest seized, ribs screaming protest. "Did I ever tell you about the hydro-turbine failure near Skyport? Fried half the grid. Thought I''d ruined everything." Anna''s head lifted a fraction, eyes widening behind the tears. He failed? Mistakes that big?


    "Took weeks to rebuild. Felt lower than bedrock. But you learn... you fix what you can... you find a new way up." Her gaze scanned with speed, hungry now. "It''s the rising after the fall that defines us, little engineer. Not the stumble." She focused on the line. Rising after the fall...


    The harsh sounds from the salvage site outside seemed distant, muffled. Wind sighed low through the shutters; the page crackled beneath her trembling hands. "You''ve got more grit in you than anyone I know. More than me, sometimes." Her breath hitched, a sharp intake. Tears flowed, hot paths down her grime-streaked cheeks, dripping onto the worn leather of her vest. "That fire in you... don''t let the crashes quench it. Ever."


    She traced his signature at the bottom—''Dad.'' Simple. Solid. Her fingers lingered on the ink. "Trust yourself, Anna. Trust your hands. Trust your gut. And..." The next line blurred again. She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her uninjured hand, smearing grime. "...remember we build better when we build together. Share the load. Share the knowledge. That''s how we beat the dark."


    The letter slipped from her grasp, falling limp onto her lap atop the blanket. Paper rustled against wool. A shudder ran through her entire frame, deep, racking. Control shattered. Sobs tore from her throat, loud now, unrestrained, echoing raw in the small, dim room. Her body shook violent, shoulders hunching forward, head bowed low, tears soaking the front of her vest, mingling with soot and grime. She wrapped her arms tight around her middle, pressing against the fire in her side, her body tight against the storm breaking loose inside her.


    Miriam knelt silent beside the chair, her hand resting steady, firm, on Anna''s shaking back. The pressure was constant, grounding. Miriam didn''t speak, just stayed, her presence an anchor.


    Minutes passed. The storm of sobs eased, then fell away, leaving ragged, shuddering breaths in its wake. Anna remained hunched, head bowed, the crumpled letter clutched tight in one fist, knuckles white. A deep weariness settled over her. The physical pain throbbed sharp, insistent. Her body felt scoured, empty.


    A soft rustle near her feet. Lia stirred. The child pushed herself up, rubbing sleep from her eyes with her good hand. She saw Anna, head bowed, shoulders shaking with the aftershocks of weeping. Lia looked at the crumpled letter, then at Anna''s tear-streaked face. She picked up the wooden bird from the floor.


    Quiet footsteps. Lia moved closer. She reached out, hand pausing, then placed the small, smooth wooden bird onto Anna''s lap, nudging it near the hand clutching the letter.


    Anna flinched at the unexpected touch. Her head lifted slow, the movement showing effort. Her grayish-blue eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, focused on the small carving nestled against her knuckles. The bird''s polished wood felt smooth, cool against her scraped skin. Its simple shape stood out solid. Her trembling fingers loosened their grip on the letter, the uncurling slow. She reached out, picked up the bird. Its weight registered light but solid in her palm.


    Her gaze lifted further, beyond the bird, meeting Lia''s waiting eyes. The child offered a small smile, lips hesitant, dark eyes still wide, reflecting the lamplight. Anna looked at her. Her focus held. Saw the grime, the bandaged hand, the steadiness in the child''s gaze. A breath shuddered through Anna''s chest, deeper than before. A watery muscle twitch pulled at Anna''s lips, faint but present.


    She closed her fingers around the smooth wood of the bird, its shape fitting familiar in her palm. The letter lay crumpled beside. Tears still tracked paths through the grime on her cheeks, but the shaking eased. Her gaze shifted, past Lia, towards the faint amber light filtering through the shutter cracks. A tiny spark flickered deep within her eyes. The gray emptiness yielded a fraction, letting in a sliver of warmth. She held the letter and the bird, grounded, breathing slow against the steady pulse of pain, the long night finally beginning to yield to a bruised, uncertain dawn.