The celebration in the streets of the Ash-Dregs was deafening, but inside the private, locked backroom of the Leviathan Pub, the air was heavy with a completely different kind of energy.
Dorothy stood at the head of the scarred, wooden table. The Giants—Jack, Rowan, Ivy, Asher, Luca, and Luna—sat around her, nursing mugs of ale and looking exhausted but content. Vexler stood by the reinforced door, leaning on his cane, his clockwork eye whirring softly as he watched the girl who had single-handedly melted an army.
"You called a family meeting, Dot?" Jack asked, leaning his chair back onto two legs. "If this is about who cleans the automaton oil off the garage floor, I enthusiastically vote for Luca."
"It's not about the oil, Jack," Dorothy said softly. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her apron. They weren't glowing now, but everyone in the room knew exactly what those hands could do.
She looked at each of them. Her family. The people who had bled on iron grates and fought clockwork monsters for her.
"Nana Rose... before she passed away in the ward... she told me something," Dorothy began, her voice trembling slightly. "She told me who I really am. Where the magic comes from."
The room went completely quiet. Even Asher stopped swinging her legs under the table.
"I'm not just an unregistered orphan from the Dregs," Dorothy continued, taking a deep, fortifying breath. "I was born far to the North. In the Kingdom of Aethelgard. My mother was the Queen. And the current monarch... Queen Erika... is my twin sister."
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.
Luca dropped his heavy iron spanner. It clattered loudly on the floorboards.
"Your sister is... the Queen of Aethelgard?" Luna whispered, her eyes wide behind her goggles. "Does that mean you're a..."
"A Princess," Jack finished, his chair dropping forward with a thud. He looked at Dorothy, then down at his dirty, mud-caked boots, then back at her. "We've been taking orders from a literal Royal Highness? I should have charged you significantly more rent."
A nervous, tension-breaking chuckle ran through the group.
"So," Rowan spoke up from the corner shadow. He looked incredibly pale, hugging his heavy, buttoned-up coat tight around his torso. "You want to go home."
"I have to," Dorothy nodded, her golden-flecked eyes shining with unshed tears. "I have a sister I've never met. A family I was stolen from to protect her from assassins. I need to know her. I need to know where I come from."
She looked at Vexler.
"I'm leaving for the Northern borders. Tonight."
"We'll prep the Valkyrie and the steam-lorry," Jack stood up immediately, grabbing his revolver from the table. "It's a long, treacherous drive across the Deadlands, but if we heavily modify the boiler tanks—"
"No," Dorothy said sharply.
Jack froze halfway to the door. "No?"
"I'm going alone," Dorothy stated.
"Like hell you are!" Luca shouted, slamming his good hand on the table. "We're the Giants! We stick together! You think we're going to let our sister walk across a frozen, monster-infested wasteland by herself?"
"You have to stay," Dorothy said, her voice hardening, perfectly channeling the natural, royal authority she had discovered in the Dig Site.
She gestured toward the door, to the sounds of the city celebrating outside.
"Listen to them. They're celebrating because they think they're safe. But the Syndicates are only broken, not dead. The pneumatic grid is incredibly unstable. The food supply is in chaos. If we all leave... who runs the Iron City?"
She looked at Ivy.
"They need someone to manage the Shard's output, Ivy. You're the only alchemist alive who understands the mathematics."
She looked at the Twins.
"They need master engineers to keep the gas-lights on and the water pumps running."
She looked at Jack and Asher.
"And they need protectors. If the Giants vanish, the remaining street gangs and rogue Enforcers will tear this city apart before sunrise to fill the power vacuum. You fought and bled for this city. You can't abandon it now."
Jack slumped back into his wooden chair. He rubbed his face, looking suddenly much older than his years.
"You're right," Jack muttered, a bitter acceptance in his voice. "Damn it, Dot. Why do you always have to be right?"
"It's the royal blood," Dorothy smiled weakly.
She walked around the table, placing a gentle hand on Jack's shoulder.
"I'm not leaving forever. I'm just... going to see my sister. I will come back. I promise."
"You better," Asher sniffed, fiercely wiping her eyes with her soot-stained sleeve. "Or I'll pilot the Iron-Maiden all the way up to that gothic castle and physically drag you back."
"I'm counting on it," Dorothy kissed the top of Asher's head.
She turned to Rowan.
Rowan was staring at her with an intensity that made her heart physically ache. He looked like he wanted to argue. He looked like he wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. But he just gave a small, defeated nod.
"You need an escort to the border," Rowan said quietly. "At least let me ride you to the absolute edge of the Deadlands. The Valkyrie is faster than any train."
Dorothy hesitated. She looked at Vexler. Vexler gave a small, imperceptible nod.
"Okay," Dorothy agreed softly. "To the border. But then I walk."
"Deal," Rowan said.
The meeting broke up. The Giants surrounded Dorothy, hugging her fiercely, making her promise to send telegraphs if she could, making terrible jokes about her bringing back a jeweled crown.
But as the group moved toward the door to join the massive party raging in the main tavern, Rowan hung back. He slipped silently out the side exit, heading for the exterior fire escape leading to the roof.
Vexler watched him go. He saw the agonizing way Rowan held his chest. He saw the sharp, suppressed grimace of pain when little Asher had hugged him too tight.
Vexler grabbed his cane and followed the boy up the iron stairs.
Rowan sat on the rusted iron roof of the Leviathan Pub, staring out at the clear, starry night. He could hear the music and laughter echoing from below.
It was a perfect picture of victory.
Rowan smiled, but the expression didn't reach his winter-blue eyes. He flinched violently as a massive spasm of pain shot through his chest—a sharp, jagged agony that felt exactly like broken glass shifting under his skin.
He gripped his heavy coat, pulling the collar tighter around his neck, shivering despite his own rising body heat.
"You're not drinking," a raspy voice called out behind him.
Rowan turned. Vexler stood by the iron chimney, leaning heavily on his cane. The former broker looked incredibly tired, his clockwork eye whirring in the quiet night.
"Not thirsty," Rowan lied smoothly.
Vexler narrowed his eyes, limping forward. "You've been wearing that heavy winter coat for forty-eight straight hours, kid. Even inside. It was eighty degrees down in the Node today."
Rowan looked away, staring at the distant, dark shape of the Spire. "I run cold."
"You're lying," Vexler said flatly, his tone brook no argument. "I've seen the way you move. You're guarding your left side constantly. Did Victor clip you with a galvanic round on the platform?"
"No," Rowan stood up, backing away slightly. "I'm fine, Vex. Just tired from the drive."
"I am Cipher," Vexler said, his voice dropping to that familiar, authoritative, terrifying cadence. "I know precisely when a variable is hiding critical data. Show me."
Rowan looked at the skylight below them. He could see Dorothy's silhouette laughing with Jack.
"Not here," Rowan whispered, his voice cracking.
They walked back down into the sub-basement, entering the absolute darkness of the Node. The room was quiet, the massive difference-engines now displaying the peaceful, stabilized aether-metrics of the Shard rather than frantic war plans.
Rowan locked the heavy iron door behind them. He stood in the center of the room, directly under the harsh, white glare of a diagnostic gas-lamp.
He unzipped his heavy leather jacket. His hands trembled as he unbuttoned his linen shirt.
Vexler hissed sharply through his teeth, taking an involuntary step back.
"By the Shard..."
Rowan's chest was an absolute ruin.
Directly over his heart, the flesh had turned a translucent, angry, glowing violet. But it wasn't a severe bruise or a burn. It was active crystallization. Jagged, sharp red cracks radiated outward from his sternum, spreading aggressively across his ribs and creeping slowly up toward his collarbone like the roots of a parasitic, alien tree. The corrupted veins pulsed with a sickening, rhythmic, violet light.
"It burns," Rowan whispered, looking down at his own destroyed body. "It feels like... like it's eating me from the inside out."
Vexler walked closer, activating a handheld, brass medical scanner. He ran the clicking beam over Rowan's chest. The small glass screen flashed a frantic, bloody red.
ERROR. UNKNOWN AETHERIC ENERGY SIGNATURE. CELLULAR DECAY IMMINENT.
"Shard-Corruption," Vexler diagnosed, his raspy voice grim and hollow. "I saw it only once before. A deep-shaft miner touched a raw vein of pressurized liquid aether without his protective suit. It lasted a week."
Rowan buttoned his shirt back up with trembling, numb fingers. "A week?"
"Maybe slightly more," Vexler said, staring at the horrific data on the screen. "You didn't just touch raw aether, Rowan; you held the fractured Shard itself. You became a direct, physical conduit for a god's energy. Your mortal body... it's desperately trying to crystallize your organs to contain the residual power."
Vexler looked up, his one human eye filled with profound, overwhelming pity.
"It will spread, Rowan. It will reach your lungs. Then your spine. And finally... your brain."
"Can you fix it?" Rowan asked, his voice terribly small.
"Me? No," Vexler shook his head, leaning heavily on his cane. "This isn't science or mechanics. It's a cosmic curse. Maybe... maybe the Ancient Magic could slow it down? Dorothy might be able to—"
"No," Rowan cut him off sharply, his winter eyes flashing with sudden intensity.
"She saved the entire city, Rowan! She healed the Shard! She can heal you!"
"And if she tries to heal me," Rowan said, stepping forward, invading Vexler's space, "she will feel exactly what I did. She will see what it cost to buy her that time. She'll blame herself. She'll spend every second of her life trying to fix a broken machine instead of going to find her sister."
Rowan grabbed Vexler's shoulder with a desperate, iron grip.
"Look at the monitors, Vex. Look at the cameras in the pub. They are happy. For the first time in their entire miserable lives, they aren't scared. Dorothy is going to Aethelgard. Jack is rebuilding the kingdom. Asher is safe."
"You are dying," Vexler said brutally, refusing to sugarcoat it. "They deserve to know the price you paid."
"They deserve a future," Rowan corrected, his voice entirely resolute. "I made a choice on that platform, and I knew exactly what the price was."
He zipped his heavy leather jacket all the way up, completely hiding the red, creeping death beneath.
"Promise me," Rowan demanded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Cipher. Promise me on your life that you won't tell them. Let me be the only thing that breaks."
Vexler stared at the boy. He saw the absolute, unbreakable resolve in his eyes—the exact same stubborn, brilliant fire that Silas Velox had possessed before he lost his way to ambition.
Vexler sighed heavily, the fight draining out of him. He shut off the brass medical scanner.
"You are an absolute fool, Rowan Velox," Vexler whispered. "But you are a good man."
He offered his calloused hand.
"Your secret is completely safe with the Node."
Rowan shook it, relief washing over him. "Thank you."
"But Rowan," Vexler warned sternly as the boy turned to leave the dark room. "When the crystal reaches your neck... when it climbs above the collar of that coat... you won't be able to hide it anymore. You are on a very short clock."
Rowan touched his collarbone, where the faint, burning red lines were already creeping stubbornly upward.
"Then I better make the time count," Rowan said.
He walked out of the dark room, slapping a charming, easy smile onto his face as he stepped back into the gaslight to join his friends for a toast he knew he might not survive to repeat.