Dusk painted the wasteland in shades of ash and amber, the sky-cities' lights flickering like stars too proud to fall. Tomas adjusted the straps of his pack—tools, water, the Etherstone chunk—its weight familiar against his back. Beside him, Sereth stood straighter than she had hours ago, her wound bandaged properly now, thanks to Lila's grudging care. The Gifted woman's cloak was tattered, but her posture screamed defiance, her satchel clutched tight.
"You ready?" Tomas asked, checking the horizon. The sky-tether loomed fifty miles out, a dark spine piercing the clouds.
Sereth nodded, her jaw set. "Let's not waste time, Kael. The longer we're here, the more danger we're in."
He didn't argue. Etherfiends roamed at night, and bandits weren't far behind. He gave Lila a quick nod—she stood by the tent, arms crossed, silent but fierce. "Keep Dustcrag in line," he said. "I'll be back."
"You'd better," she shot back, voice steady despite the crack beneath it.
Tomas turned, leading Sereth into the wasteland. The ground crunched underfoot, brittle and unforgiving. He kept a brisk pace, eyes scanning for threats. Sereth matched him, though her breaths came sharp, her Spark flickering faintly at her fingertips—a reflex, he guessed, like a miner gripping a pickaxe.
"You're not what I expected from a Dull," she said after a mile, breaking the silence. "Most of you shuffle along, heads down. You're… different."
"Hard work's the difference," Tomas said, sidestepping a jagged rock. "You're born with your Spark. I earn every step."
She scoffed, but there was no venom in it. "Earned or not, it won't mean much up there. Solvaris chews up dreamers."
"Then I'll chew back," he said, grinning faintly. She didn't reply, but he caught a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, maybe.
The wasteland stretched on, a maze of dunes and ruins. Two hours in, the wind picked up, howling through the emptiness. Tomas slowed, ears straining. A shadow moved ahead—low, fast, too big for a man. He grabbed Sereth's arm, pulling her behind a boulder.
"Etherfiend," he whispered, pointing. The beast lumbered into view, its hide glinting like cracked Etherstone, claws dragging furrows in the dirt. Eight feet tall, all muscle and menace.
Sereth's hand flared with fire, but it sputtered out. "Damn it," she hissed. "I'm too weak."
"Stay put," Tomas said, unslinging his pickaxe. "I've got this."
"You're mad," she snapped, but he was already moving, crouching low. The Etherfiend sniffed the air, its eyeless head swiveling. Tomas circled, heart pounding, spotting a crumbling cliff nearby. He hefted a stone from his pack and hurled it past the beast, clattering against the rock face.
It roared, charging the noise. Tomas sprinted to the cliff's base, slamming his pickaxe into a weak spot. The stone groaned, fissures spidering upward. The Etherfiend turned, sensing him, but too late—another strike, and the cliff buckled, tons of rock crashing down. The beast vanished in a cloud of dust and a final, guttural howl.
Tomas stumbled back, chest heaving, as Sereth emerged, wide-eyed. "You're insane," she said, almost impressed.
"Insane works," he replied, wiping blood from a scraped knuckle. "Come on."
They pressed on, the tether growing closer—a massive cable of stone and magic anchoring Solvaris to the earth. By midnight, they reached its base, a towering slab etched with runes. Sereth traced one, her Spark flaring briefly, and a platform shimmered into view, hovering just above the ground.
"Get on," she said. "It'll take us up."
Tomas stepped aboard, the hum of Etherstone vibrating through his boots. The platform lurched, ascending into the night. He gripped his pickaxe, staring at the wasteland shrinking below. Hard work had brought him here. Now it'd carry him to the sky—or bury him trying.