Tears traced Lady Ishvari's cheek as the applause swelled. Not because her son had succeeded—but because she knew he had just changed everything.
Rajan stood beside her, silent.
"He was never meant to be only ours," she whispered.
Rajan nodded. "He will belong to the world. And that frightens me."
The head blacksmith, Tharn, approached Sharath, bent knee, and bowed—deeply.
"Forgive me," he said. "I didn't believe."
Sharath placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "You helped make it real. That matters more."
The nobles' attitudes began shifting rapidly. Already, three had sent messengers to request an audience. Others looked at their own children differently—wondering if they too had missed some hidden genius.
But Sharath, despite it all, did not celebrate.
He returned to the forge that night.
There were more machines to build