The metal shattered in his hand. It was a dry, crisp sound—*karan*. As if the metal itself was telling him: *you can't do this*. Kael stared at the fragments scattered across the workbench. Black hair clung to his forehead with sweat. His leather apron bore the marks of soot he'd wiped away countless times today. His amber eyes traced each piece slowly, deliberately. It was the third one. --- The city began with the sound of hammers. Fostalen. An industrial city built along the middle reaches of the Tora River, on the western side of the Caldora Federation. Population: roughly sixty-five thousand. From every corner of the city, the sound of metal being struck echoed with the dawn. *Kan-kan, gan-gan, chi-chi-chi*—as if the entire city were one massive workshop. A steam locomotive's whistle pierced the air. The morning's first train was sliding into Fostalen Station. White vapor erupted from the smokestack and dissolved into the morning sky. Along the city's electric poles, lines