Three days of Sir Vorn's weekly reports had taught Alucent two things. First, the Elder suspected everything and revealed nothing. Second, if he was going to survive in this world, he needed to stop reacting to his abilities and start using them.
The opportunity came on a busy midday when the Marketplaza was thick with frustrated voices and the smell of overheated brass.
The communal Steam-Powered Rune-Loom sat at the heart of the commercial district like a mechanical altar. Twenty feet long and half as wide, it was where most of Eryndral's citizens came to weave basic Weavefibers from raw materials. Intricate copper pipes fed steam to its brass boilers. Runic patterns covered every surface, channeling Runeforce through gears and spindles that should have hummed with smooth precision.
Instead, it was grinding like a broken clock.
"Piece of junk hasn't worked right in two days," someone complained near Alucent's elbow.
"My order's backed up until next week," another voice added. "Need those fibers for my daughter's wedding dress."
Alucent studied the scene, his blue eyes taking in every detail. The loom's runes flickered erratically. Its gears caught and released with jarring metallic screams. Steam leaked from joints that should have been sealed.
But more importantly, he could see the real problem.
The same way he'd sensed the blockage in the Glowrose cultivation system, he could perceive the tangled flow of Runeforce within the machine. Like looking at a river full of debris, energy backed up and scattered instead of flowing smoothly through the channels carved for it.
A conceptual snag. A knot in reality itself that was preventing the loom from remembering how to function properly.
"Terrible shame," came a voice from behind him. "Such an expensive machine, too."
Alucent turned to see Jorin approaching with the kind of smile that meant someone was about to get fleeced. The Trademaster's thread-scarred face was animated with poorly concealed greed.
"Of course," Jorin continued, addressing the frustrated crowd, "I happen to have some hand-spun Weavefibers available. Premium quality. Only twice the usual price, considering the circumstances."
Twice the price. For what should have been a routine transaction.
Bastard's making profit from other people's problems.
Which, admittedly, was exactly what Alucent was planning to do. But at least he intended to solve the problem in the process.
Tavin pressed closer to his side, wide green eyes darting between the broken loom and the growing crowd of angry customers. The boy had barely left Alucent's shadow since the storm, and his sensitivity to Runeforce made him flinch every time the machine's energy patterns stuttered.
"It hurts," Tavin whispered. "The wrongness. Can you feel it?"
Oh, I can feel it. And I can fix it.
Alucent stepped forward, pushing through the crowd until he reached the loom itself. The brass surfaces were warm to the touch, almost feverish. Up close, the chaotic energy patterns were even more obvious.
There. A single rune on the main boiler, barely the size of his thumbnail. The etching had worn slightly, creating a tiny gap in the pattern that disrupted the entire flow of Runeforce through the system.
He glanced around. No one was paying particular attention to him. They were all focused on Jorin's sales pitch or their own frustrations.
Perfect.
Alucent reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brass monocle he'd bought from Gryan the day before. Ostensibly for reading fine print, but really because he'd sensed it had potential as a focusing tool.
He held the monocle up to his eye, pretending to examine the damaged rune more closely. But what he was really doing was channeling his intent through the brass lens, using it to focus the strange power that lived in his bones.
The shimmering haze around his hands intensified, barely visible but definitely present. The Weave Anchor Ring grew warm against his finger.
This time, instead of instinctively reaching out with his power, he guided it. Consciously. Deliberately.
The energy flowed through him like water through a pipe, down his arm and out through his fingertips. Not touching the damaged rune directly, but touching the space around it. The conceptual framework that held it in place.
Reality shifted.
Just a little. Just enough.
The tiny gap in the rune sealed itself. The missing link in the pattern completed. The knot in the flow of Runeforce untangled with an almost audible snap.
The loom roared back to life.
Gears that had been grinding smoothly engaged. Steam that had been leaking sealed itself back into proper channels. The runic patterns across the machine's surface blazed with steady, healthy light.
But more than that, it was working better than before. The rhythm of its operation was faster, more efficient. The Weavefibers it began producing were of higher quality than anyone had seen from the communal loom in months.
The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted in cheers.
"Fixed!" someone shouted. "It's actually fixed!"
"Better than fixed," another voice added. "Look at those fibers!"
Alucent stepped back, slipping the monocle into his pocket with studied casualness. But inside, he was grinning.
See? A perfectly profitable solution.
"Young man," called one of the loom's owners, a middle-aged woman with calloused hands. "Did you do something to fix this?"
"Just took a closer look," Alucent said modestly. "Sometimes mechanical problems are simpler than they appear."
"Simpler?" She laughed. "Three different Runetinkers looked at this thing and couldn't make sense of it. You took one look and it's running like new."
She pressed a heavy pouch into his hands. "Premium Weavefibers. Finest grade. Consider it a finder's fee."
The pouch was worth more than he'd made in his previous three jobs combined. And that was just the direct payment.
Because Jorin's price manipulation had just become irrelevant. With the loom working again, supply was back to normal. The Trademaster's stockpiled hand-spun fibers were no longer a scarce commodity.
"Quite a coincidence," Jorin said, appearing at Alucent's elbow. His scarred face was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp with suspicion. "Machine breaks down, I happen to have inventory, then it mysteriously fixes itself just as you show up."
"Lucky timing," Alucent agreed.
"Indeed. You wouldn't be interested in selling those premium fibers, would you? I could offer you a very good price."
Of course he could. Because now Jorin needed to buy back the market share he'd just lost.
"How good?"
The negotiation was brief and brutal. Jorin ended up paying nearly three times what the fibers were worth, just to maintain his position in the local economy. Alucent walked away with enough profit to live comfortably for a month.
As he and Tavin made their way back through the crowd, he caught sight of Gryan at his nearby stall. The vendor was watching him with an expression of dry amusement, nodding slowly as if to say he'd seen exactly what had happened and approved.
"This," Alucent thought, satisfaction radiating through his chest, "is how I survive. This is how I thrive."
He wasn't just adapting to this world anymore. He was actively shaping it. Using his strange abilities for pragmatic, profitable gain. Finding his own easy solutions to complex problems.
Tavin looked up at him with wide, wondering eyes. "You fixed it. Really fixed it. I felt the wrongness go away."
"Sometimes things just need the right touch," Alucent said.
But as he spoke, confidence surging through him like warm honey, something went wrong.
The Weave Anchor Ring flared with sudden, searing pain. Not the gentle warmth he'd grown used to, but genuine agony that shot up his arm and exploded behind his sternum.
He stumbled, gasping, his vision blurring.
And in that moment of disorientation, an image flashed across his mind with crystalline clarity.
A form of impossible size and darkness, looming against a sky that wasn't sky. Humanoid but wrong, with proportions that defied geometry. And in the center of what might have been its face, a single eye that glowed with ancient malevolence.
The eye was looking directly at him.
Not at the plaza, not at the crowd, not at the general area where he stood.
At him. Specifically. Personally.
As if it had been watching his every move and was pleased with what it saw.
The vision lasted less than a second, but the terror it left behind was profound and lasting. Something vast and patient and utterly alien was taking an interest in his small acts of power.
And somehow, Alucent knew with bone-deep certainty that this was not a good thing.
The pain faded, leaving him shaky but functional. Tavin was staring at him with concern, small hands reaching out to steady him.
"Are you okay?" the boy whispered.
Alucent forced a smile, pocketing his profits with hands that only trembled slightly.
"Fine," he lied. "Just tired."
But as they walked away from the fixed loom and the grateful crowd, he couldn't shake the feeling that his success had come at a price he didn't yet understand.
Someone, or something, was keeping score.
And he was very much afraid of what would happen when the bill came due.