The weight of Sparks

The Sanctum's walls hummed with secrets.

Kaelis had carved our training ground into a cavern deep beneath the jungle floor, where the air smelled of wet stone and ozone. Glowing golden moss clung to the ceiling, casting a dim light over rows of ancient war machines—automatons frozen in mid-stride, their metal bones rusted and overgrown with vines. Some still clutched weapons: jagged blades, cannons fused shut by time. Others had faces, or what passed for them—grotesque approximations of human features, twisted by centuries of decay.

"Focus," Kaelis said, their voice echoing as they paced behind me. "The gauntlet is not a hammer. It is a scalpel."

I glared at the automaton in front of me. It was smaller than the others, its skeletal frame intact but lifeless. The gauntlet on my arm throbbed, its violet veins pulsing like a second heartbeat.

"You want me to *stab* it with Aetherium," I said flatly.

"Not stab. *Thread*." Kaelis flicked their golden-lit fingers, and the automaton's chest cavity split open, revealing a hollow chamber where its core should be. "Aetherium is alive. It seeks connection. Guide it into the machine's heart."

I pressed the gauntlet's claws to the automaton's chest. The metal was cold, but the gauntlet warmed, its energy coiling in my veins. I pushed.

Nothing.

"You're forcing it," Kaelis snapped. "You are a conduit, not a commander. *Listen*."

I closed my eyes. The gauntlet hummed, and beneath it, I heard something else—a faint, discordant melody. The automaton's core chamber wasn't empty. It was *waiting*.

*Let go*, the gauntlet seemed to whisper.

I exhaled.

The Aetherium flowed.

---

**Chapter 11b: The First Spark**

Violet light spilled from the gauntlet, threading into the automaton's chest like liquid wire. The machine shuddered, its joints creaking as rust flaked away. One eye flickered blue.

*"Catalyst,"* it rasped, its voice like grinding gears. *"The Sleeper… waits."*

I jerked back, breaking the connection. The light faded, and the automaton slumped.

"It spoke," I said, my voice unsteady.

Kaelis didn't look surprised. "The old ones always do. Their cores retain echoes."

Lira leaned against a moss-covered pillar, her arms crossed. She'd been silent all morning, her mechanical eye fixed on Kaelis like a hawk tracking prey. "Echoes of what?"

"Of the war. Of the Veiled Hand's sins." Kaelis turned to me. "Again."

This time, I didn't hesitate.

The Aetherium surged, smoother now, and the automaton's eye blazed bright. Its head swiveled toward me.

*"Free… us…"*

"Ignore it," Kaelis ordered. "Command it to move."

I clenched my fist. "Walk."

The automaton lurched forward, its steps jerky but deliberate.

"Good," Kaelis said. "Now, make it—"

The machine's arm snapped up, its clawed hand seizing my throat.

*"Break… the chains…"*

Lira's dagger was at its neck in seconds. "Let him go, rustbucket."

Kaelis raised a hand, golden light flaring. The automaton crumpled, its eye dimming.

"Control," they said coldly, "is the difference between mastery and martyrdom."

---

**Chapter 11c: The Mural's Secret**

That night, I found Lira in the Sanctum's oldest wing.

She'd pried open a rusted door neither of us had noticed before, revealing a chamber choked with vines. The walls were covered in murals, their colors faded but their stories horrifyingly clear.

"Look at this," she said, wiping dust from the stone.

The first mural showed robed figures—the Veiled Hand—standing before a massive, shadowy entity buried beneath a mountain. Aetherium tendrils coiled around it like chains.

"The Sleeper," I muttered.

The second depicted a battle. The same figures wielded both violet and golden energy, tearing the earth asunder. At the center, a man with a mechanical arm—Kaelis—struck down a woman cloaked in violet.

"They weren't united," Lira said. "They fought over the Sleeper. Kaelis betrayed them."

The final mural was the worst. The Sleeper's chains were broken, its tendrils spearing through cities and soldiers alike. Above it, a black sun bled dark energy into the sky.

Scrawled beneath in jagged script: *"The Catalyst shall wake the god, and the god shall devour the world."*

Lira's mechanical eye whirred. "You're the Catalyst, Jace. That's why Kaelis is training you. Not to control the gauntlet—to control *you*."

The vines behind us rustled.

Kaelis stood in the doorway, their golden eyes glowing in the dark. "Curiosity is a knife, children. It cuts both ways."