The transport platform to the Deep Dig Site was a vast, industrial steam-lift capable of moving entire locomotives. It sat at the end of a long, soot-stained service tunnel beneath the detention block, guarded by the absolute last line of Syndicate defense.
The Giants charged down the tunnel. They were a battered, bleeding, terrifying force. Asher and Luna piloted the hijacked Steam-Goliath, its heavy iron footsteps shaking the cobblestone floor and shaking loose decades of dust from the vaulted ceiling. Jack and Luca provided covering fire, the sharp cracks of their firearms echoing loudly.
Rowan ran at the front, supporting the limping Vexler.
"The platform controls are mechanically locked!" Vexler wheezed, grabbing a cracked brass analytical slate from a fallen guard. His fingers flew across the tiny type-keys with a speed that made Luca do a double-take. "I can bypass the gear-encryption, but I need a direct physical link to the main terminal!"
"We'll get you there," Rowan promised, his boots splashing through puddles of oily water.
They burst into the platform chamber.
Standing in the exact center of the massive iron platform, surrounded by a dozen elite Centurions, was Victor Velox. Behind him, the massive, riveted blast doors leading to the Dig Site were slowly cycling open on giant gears. Through the gap, an eerie, pulsing violet light spilled out—the raw, unfiltered light of the bleeding Shard.
"Father!" Rowan shouted over the hiss of escaping steam.
Victor looked up. He didn't look terrified by the sight of a thirty-foot iron mech bearing down on him. He looked profoundly annoyed, like a baron whose private dinner had been interrupted by an unruly hound.
"You are persistently tedious, Rowan," Victor sighed, smoothing the lapels of his gray suit. "I suppose I should have thrown you out of the Spire years ago."
"Where is she?" Rowan demanded, stepping out from behind the massive leg of the Goliath.
"The girl?" Victor gestured with his cane to the open iron doors behind him. "Director Kaelen has already taken her down. The extraction has commenced. By the time you get past my security, the Shard will be fully stabilized, and your little golden witch will be nothing but a drained battery."
He snapped his fingers. "Kill them all. Melt the machine."
The Centurions opened fire, their heavy galvanic rifles discharging blinding blue bolts of electricity.
"Cover!" Jack screamed, diving behind a stack of heavy wooden crates.
The Steam-Goliath roared, stepping protectively in front of the group to absorb the galvanic fire with its thick iron armor. Luna engaged the mech's heavy pneumatic rivet-cannon, firing foot-long steel spikes that pinned two Centurions directly to the brick wall.
"I'm going for the platform!" Rowan yelled.
"Rowan, no!" Luca shouted, struggling to reload his revolver with one hand.
Rowan didn't listen. He sprinted across the open iron grating, dodging blaster bolts that scorched the air around him. He wasn't running away this time. He was running directly toward the man who had defined his worth.
Victor watched him come. He didn't draw a pistol. He calmly tapped a brass dial on his belt.
Hummmm.
A personal galvanic energy shield flared to life around Victor, shimmering like a golden, translucent bubble of static electricity.
Rowan slammed his shoulder into the shield. It was exactly like hitting a solid brick wall. He bounced off violently, landing hard on the grated iron floor.
"Pathetic," Victor sneered, looking down his nose. "You attack a modern fortress with your bare hands? This shield generator is military-grade, boy. It can withstand a direct hit from a naval cannon."
Rowan rolled to his feet, gasping for breath. He looked at the heavy brass shield emitter on Victor's belt. It was glowing red-hot with exertion.
He didn't punch the shield again. He looked down at the floor. The platform was a grid of heavy iron grates, beneath which ran thick, high-voltage copper power cables supplying the massive steam-lift motor.
Rowan grabbed a loose, heavy wrench from the floor and violently smashed open a junction box. He grabbed a thick, exposed copper cable—humming violently with raw electricity.
"What are you doing?" Victor frowned, taking a half-step back.
"Overloading the circuit," Rowan gritted his teeth, feeling the electrical burn through his leather gloves.
He didn't throw the cable at Victor. He jammed the exposed, sparking copper end directly into the wet iron grate inside the radius where the shield projected down to Victor's leather boots.
CRACK-BOOM.
The iron floor instantly electrified. The massive surge traveled directly up Victor's legs, entirely bypassing the shield that only protected him from external, kinetic impacts. The feedback loop hit the brass shield generator on his belt with the force of a lightning strike.
The generator shrieked and exploded in a shower of sparks and gears.
Victor was thrown violently backward, his tailored suit smoking. He crashed hard against the brass control console of the elevator.
Rowan was thrown the other way, his arm completely numb from the shock. He scrambled up, ignoring the agonizing pins and needles. He grabbed his father by the lapels of his ruined suit and hoisted him up.
"Call it off!" Rowan roared, shaking the older man. "Stop the extraction!"
Victor laughed. He was bleeding from his mouth, his perfect silver hair ruined, but he was laughing—a wet, arrogant sound.
"It's too late," Victor wheezed. "Kaelen has already engaged the siphon pumps. The Shard... it's beautiful, Rowan. Endless, unstoppable power."
Victor's hand scrabbled blindly on the brass console behind him. He found a heavy red lever and pulled it down.
EMERGENCY SEAL.
The massive, riveted iron blast doors leading to the Dig Site slammed shut with a deafening, earth-shaking thud. The heavy locking bolts slid into place with a sound of utter finality.
"No!" Rowan dropped his father and hammered his fists against the massive doors. They were solid impervium steel.
"You can't save her," Victor whispered, sliding down the console to sit on the floor, coughing. "And you can't save this city. It belongs to us."
Rowan looked at the sealed door. He looked back at Vexler, who was hobbling over with Jack, Ivy, and Luca as the last of the Centurions fell to the Goliath's cannons.
"Vexler!" Rowan shouted desperately. "Hack it! Get it open!"
Jack blinked, his good eye wide, looking between Rowan and the weaselly broker. "Rowan, have you lost your bloody mind? He's a street fence! He sells used batteries and expired meat pies! What's he going to do, offer the blast door a discount?"
"Yeah," Luca chimed in, leaning heavily against the mech's leg. "Unless that door wants to buy a knock-off pocket watch, Vex isn't getting us through."
Vexler ignored them entirely. He cracked his knuckles, a grim, terrifying determination settling on his bruised face. He plugged his cracked brass slate directly into the door's diagnostic port with a thick copper wire.
"Actually," Vexler muttered, his fingers flying across the mechanical keys so fast they were a blur, "I wrote the kernel architecture for this specific pneumatic security system ten years ago. I left a backdoor in the logic loop."
Ivy leaned over his shoulder, squinting through her glasses. Her eyes went incredibly wide. "That code... those punch-card sequences... Vex, that's a Cipher signature."
The realization hit the bloody, exhausted group like a physical blow.
Jack dropped his rifle slightly. He stared blankly at the man in the dirty trench coat—the exact same man he had aggressively haggled with over water filters just yesterday.
"Wait," Jack stammered, pointing a shaking finger. "You? You're Cipher? The ghost in the analytical engines? The voice of the bloody revolution?"
"In the flesh," Vexler grunted, rapidly bypassing a heavy mechanical firewall.
"You charged me fifty coppers for a toothbrush last week!" Jack yelled, utterly indignant despite the life-or-death situation. "I had to haggle for ten minutes in the freezing rain! You're the leader of the entire rebellion and you gouged me on dental hygiene?!"
"Revolution isn't free, Jack," Vexler shot back without looking up from the screen. "Telegraph servers cost money. Bribes cost money. And frankly, your breath was atrocious. I was doing the whole pub a favor."
"I... I honestly don't know whether to salute you or punch you in the mouth," Jack rubbed his face in disbelief.
"Wait a minute," Luca stepped forward, pointing his heavy spanner at Vexler. "I sold you a crate of pristine, Grade-A servo-motors last month! You told me they were 'rusty junk' and gave me twenty coppers! You ripped off your own demolition expert!"
"They were rusty," Vexler retorted, punching a final sequence of keys. "And I needed the budget for EMP grenades. Do you boys want to stand here and argue socio-economics, or do you want to save the girl?"
"This is insane," Luna's amplified voice boomed from the Goliath's external brass speakers. "I thought Cipher was some cool, untouchable AI god. You're just... you. You smell like old cabbage."
"It's a disguise!" Vexler snapped, looking genuinely offended. "It's called operational security! Now shut up and step back!"
He twisted a final brass knob on his slate.
CLACK. HISSSS.
The heavy locking bolts retracted. The massive iron blast doors groaned and slowly began to pull apart.
A wave of intense, suffocating heat and raw, chaotic magic washed over them, knocking Rowan back a step as the doors opened.
Through the thick, purple steam, they saw it.
The Dig Site was a subterranean cavern the size of a grand cathedral. In the absolute center, suspended over a terrifying pit of glowing, bubbling violet magma, was a massive, jagged crystal—the Synthetica Shard.
It was pulsing violently, cracking visibly under the immense strain.
And strapped directly to the crystal, screaming in silent agony as her brilliant golden light was ripped from her body by thick copper tubes to feed the violet stone, was Dorothy.
"Dot!" Jack screamed, running past Rowan.
Rowan looked down at his father. Victor was unconscious on the floor, a smug smile frozen on his bruised face.
Rowan stepped completely over him and ran into the fire.