Cane trudged down the path to the harbor, his boots dragging like they were filled with lead pellets. He hadn't quite pulled an all-nighter, but dawn had been breaking when he'd finally stepped away from the Resolute forge.
After adjusting for function, he'd found the ideal design. Clean lines, fluid movement—capable of withstanding combat and swimming alike.
Instead of fastening down the center, the vest now closed along the right side, from armpit to waist. An overlapping magnetic lapel sealed it, giving the HAV a sleek, streamlined silhouette.
Fifteen vests now rested in his silver storage ring. A few more, and the Defiant's crew would be fully equipped.
Brammel took one look at Cane's weary face and raised an eyebrow. "You get any sleep last night?"
"Not last night," Cane admitted. "Caught a few hours this morning." He shook his head. "I need more adamantium."
"Already handled it." Brammel crossed his arms. "I put in a rush order after seeing your prototype. You'll have what you need in three days."
Cane clapped his hands together, trying to wake himself. "Right. Back to it—have the shock absorbers been upgraded on the main gun?"
"Working on it. Should be ready by tomorrow."
"That works." Cane nodded. "We'll take it out on the wagon. I want targets set up every two hundred meters—starting at four hundred, all the way to one thousand. We'll sight it in properly and etch the distances on the horizontal aiming reticle."
"That's what slowed us down." Brammel scratched his beard. "One of the cadets suggested an X-shaped reticle. We're finalizing it now. Accuracy's going to be dead-on once we've got the range dialed."
Selene Morva stepped forward and handed Cane a small wrapped parcel. "Eat this. It'll restore your energy."
She waited, arms crossed, until he complied.
"I sent half my class to the old Yazlo farm," she added. "They're setting up the targets."
Cane caught Dhalia's glance from nearby. The Yazlo farm. The place they'd faced a banshee and found only a surviving infant. It had left a mark on them all.
"You okay?" Cane asked quietly.
Dhalia nodded. "Yeah. You?"
"Yep."
Cane unwrapped the parcel, feeling warmth and energy seep into his limbs as he stretched his arms overhead. "Let's lay out the tungtanium. Two sheets wide, end to end."
Together, they moved the sheets into waist-deep water, muscles straining, the metal gleaming beneath the sunlight.
"Should I drain the levee?" Selene called from the dock, watching the progress.
"Nope," Cane said. "Not yet. We'll keep the water until the keel's in place."
"Keel?" Selene arched a brow. All they had were sheets of metal. Excellent metal—but hardly a ship.
"Dhalia," Cane called, "bring the sketch of the Avenger. I need to see the rear."
She moved to the worktable and returned, holding up the blueprint.
"Close enough?" she asked.
Cane nodded. Then closed his eyes.
And stepped into the metal.
The silvery world welcomed him—the alloy he had created, the song he had written. His song. The two sheets beneath his feet glowed, fusing into one. The air filled with a low, haunting hum as the music of the metal rose in chorus.
He walked forward. Two more sheets fused. Then more.
A sudden rift opened on the dock—Telamon and Ignatius stepped through, silent observers.
Cane advanced, shaping the hull's base. At the rear, he paused, took one last look at the blueprint, and whispered:
"Now we soar."
The metal beneath him responded. It glowed brighter, then began to lift, the sides curving upward with elegant grace. There were no welds. No seams. No rivets. Only a pure, seamless sweep of alloy rising from the water.
Gasps echoed from the dock as the rear of the ship took form.
He kept moving, step by step, and the hull curved beneath him, rising higher, catching the light.
Beside him, Dhalia matched his stride, silent and steady.
At the bow, Cane studied the blueprints, then closed his eyes again.
"Heavens…" Brammel breathed, mouth ajar. "Heavens above…"
The front of the hull took shape—sleek, balanced, flawless. A perfect point to cleave the waves.
"Water students, take your places!" Selene called. "Both sides of the hull—focus on the water inside it. Funnel it out!"
Twelve students raised their hands. The water inside the hull shifted and swirled, then funneled away through the newly-formed channels.
The water level dropped. The hull emerged—rising like something from myth.
Cane walked freely now, immersed in his work. He strengthened the outer shell, singing unity into the alloy. He erased weakness, tempered its edges, gave it resilience and purpose. The symphony of metal rose and fell around him.
Finally, he stopped. Opened his eyes.
The tempest of power faded.
He staggered, drained but triumphant.
Selene stepped forward from the dock, concern on her face.
Cane stepped out of the hull, accepting Selene Morva's hand as she helped him onto the dock. Her other hand rose to his forehead, checking for heat.
"Are you okay?"
"Just a bit tired," Cane murmured, turning to glance at the lower hull now floating in the shallow harbor water. "Not bad."
"Not bad?" Brammel's eyes went wide. "It's magnificent!"
The dwarf practically leapt into the hull, running his hands over the gleaming surface, inspecting every angle, every curve, his grin stretching ear to ear.
Nearby, the water students followed his lead, murmuring as they ran their fingers along the flawless metal.
Dhalia placed the blueprint back on the table. "You should rest. I don't know exactly how metal singing works, but every magic has its limits."
Cane managed a tired smile. "It's not too bad…"
Telamon turned, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "No more work today. No smithing, no metallurgy. That's an order."
Selene nodded, already anticipating Cane's stubbornness. "Escort him to his dorm, Dhalia."
"Yes, ma'am." Dhalia caught Cane's arm and guided him up the path. As they walked, she touched the psi-rune behind her ear.
Dhalia: Sophie, could you meet me at Cane's room?
Sophie: Yes. Is something wrong?
Dhalia: No. He's just been ordered to rest.
Clara: How come I don't get orders like that?
Fergis: Because all you do is eat and sleep.
Cane glanced at Dhalia—and both burst out laughing.
When they reached his dorm, Sophie was already waiting. She took one look at Cane's face and clucked her tongue in disapproval.
"Inside. Now."
Strictly speaking, the harbor project was classified, so Dhalia kept things vague.
"He stayed up all night forging HAVs," she said.
Sophie pushed Cane toward the bed and started tugging at his boots. "Arms up."
Cane obeyed, raising his arms as she pulled off his shirt.
"Get in bed," Sophie ordered, ignoring Dhalia's sudden blush. "And show me one of those HAVs."
Cane climbed under the covers, already feeling sleep tug at him. "You're all babying me too much," he mumbled, swiping his ring and summoning one of the finished vests.
"Goodness," Sophie said, holding it carefully. "It's so light."
"And it floats," Dhalia added. "It can stop both sword and shot. Cane made them for the naval forces."
A knock interrupted them. Dhalia opened the door to find Fergis, Clara, and a young woman pushing a food cart.
The girl blushed. "Hello. I'm Thressa—I just started in the kitchens."
Sophie grinned. "I'm Sophie. You must be my replacement."
Thressa nodded. "Yes. We were instructed to bring food here."
She opened the cart lid, revealing a feast—steaming meat buns, roasted duck, fresh fruits and vegetables, and a special cooler filled with lemon desserts.
Clara clapped. "You must've done something amazing, Cane. Well, obviously."
"Help yourselves," Cane laughed. "Thanks for the food, Thressa."
Thressa bowed politely. "Just leave the cart in the hall when you're done. I'll come collect it."
Fergis grabbed a meat bun and settled on the edge of the bed. "I found us another mission. Mid-ranked. Two hundred points and fifty platinum."
Cane took a plate from Sophie, scooting over to make room for her. "What kind?"
"Bounty job. Something's been killing livestock in Bluestone Village—only an hour outside the capital."
Clara sliced open a bun and stuffed it with meat and cheese. "Close to the capital? We could do that on our next day off."
Dhalia poured drinks for everyone. "You do realize only third-years are being offered Rift service to the capital, right?"
Clara and Fergis looked at each other, then said in unison, "But we're with Cane."
Clara turned to get his take—only to find Cane already fast asleep.
She smiled, holding a finger to her lips and pointing. One by one, Fergis, Clara, and Dhalia quietly slipped out of the room.
Sophie eased Cane deeper into his blankets, then curled up beside him.