A Mixture of Magic and Steam

The air screamed, blasting out through the release while Anstan weighed the chain with his body. Peering through the steam’s haze, he spotted Lisindra fluttering near the dial. The dial clustered within superheated machinery. Not a lick of sense in that one. “Oy,” he cried.

Lisindra kicked one foot up as she fluttered backward and glanced at him. “Ansten?” she asked her eyes wide. Her Posture matched in his mother’s bedtime book’s drawing, but her clothes mirrored that of any lady: prim, binding, and completely unsuited for the plant.

“Get back from there.” He jerked his chin sideways indicating which direction he intended her to retreat.

Instead, she fluttered back toward the dial, extending her diminutive hand. “But…” she said, not bothering to finish the thought in her distraction.

Anstan knew the but. All she wanted was the answer. As if pressure, gauges, and glass could tell her where her kin had gone.

Anstan would think her mad, except…

There’d been the night. The explosion. Dancing lights he’d barely registered, let alone understood, after being thrown across the room.

Not just her kin. Too many steamworkers had perished that night too. Anstan wanted answers as much as she.

If Lisindra thought she could unwind a mixture of magic and steam by peering in glass, he could hold the chain a bit longer.

Anstan glanced at the needle. The system’s pressure continued to drop. Too low and the gearworks would halt. They didn’t have much time. But a bit longer.

Tarinne stood within a chamber. Peering through the grey light, she recognized Berlotte. Berlotte who’d carried her through scorching light when Tarinne hadn’t a step left and had disappeared some months past.

But why did she crouch upon the floor with her hair gripped tightly within clenched fists and she heaved silently.

Tarinne reached out her hand, moving to step toward her friend.

Her feet refused to move. Looking down, Tarinne focused as if attention would loosen them, but they remained fixed, nearly hidden in gloom. Trapped in neither light nor dark. A scream swelled unvoiced in her throat.