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They followed the drip into what might once have been a plaza. At its center stood a hulking mass of stone and shadow, its facade weathered but intact. Thick pillars lined the front, their surfaces marred by cracks but still standing, and above the entrance, the Time crest—a crescent moon inside an unbroken circle—loomed in faded relief.

“This is it,” Skye said, stepping toward the building. The massive doors had fallen long ago, their splintered remains scattered across the threshold. Whatever wards or locks had once kept this place sealed had crumbled, leaving it open and exposed.

They passed through the entrance, their footsteps echoing in the stillness. The interior was cold and still, the air heavy with dust and the faint metallic tang of decay. Broken furniture and shattered glass littered the floor, while rusted fixtures hungprecariously from the walls. The Time crest appeared again, etched into the stone floor beneath a layer of grime.

The sound of water grew louder, leading them through decayed corridors and into a grand chamber at the heart of the building. At the far end, water dripped steadily from a crack in the wall, pooling in a shallow basin that reflected the faint glow of their lantern.

Here, the walls arched high above them, the ceiling fractured but holding. Tall enough to house the massive structure at its center.

“Follow the sound of dripping water,” Skye murmured, angling his lantern to get a better view of the machinery.

Unlike the one in the forest, this riftway resembled a massive, lidless eye. The brass framework encasing it was tarnished and warped, with faint runes etched into its surface, barely visible under the layers of dirt and decay.

At the center of the eye was a large metal ring. Shadows pooled in its hollow.

Kato exhaled sharply, the sound loud in the stillness. “Well. That’s… creepy as hell.”

Skye stepped closer, the faint hum of his aether rising as he studied the portal. As if in answer, aether sparked in the hollow center of the ring—brief, flickering, but unmistakable. “It still works.”

Kato frowned, circling the riftway with slow, deliberate steps. Metal groaned faintly as he passed, making him glance up warily. “What did the old man want us to do exactly?”

“See if it was still intact.”

“Okay—check. Now what?”

“Now we figure out what makes it tick.”

Kato straightened, his attention sharpening. Suddenly, the creepy monolith wasn’t so creepy anymore. It was a puzzle. A challenge. Its massive eye-shaped design was mesmerizing, theconcentric rings etched with runes just waiting for someone clever enough to crack them.

He dropped his pack and began digging. “Hell, why didn’t you lead with that?” He found his roll of tools.

For the first time in a long time, he felt… excitement? It had been a while since he got to work on something that didn’t have a price tag attached. His family only cared about results, profit, the payoff. Sure, fixing up old Mechanica scratched the itch, but that had been patchwork, repairs—this was something else.

This was pure discovery, a puzzle begging to be solved.

The clinking of metal echoed faintly in the chamber as he unrolled his tools with a flourish, everything gleaming and in its proper place, waiting to be used.

“Hey, uh, Skye?”

“Yeah.”

Kato hesitated, thumb tracing the edge of a wrench. “You probably don’t know it, but… I needed this. The whole thing with Kalahad...” He exhaled. “It got to me more than I thought.”

“I know,” Skye said, sorting his own tools on a nearby counter. “And you’re welcome.”

Kato huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Am I that obvious?”

“No,” Skye said, smirking. “You’re a pillar of strength… unless you count the noise complaints from the barracks. And the bar tabs getting billed to Ivain. But other than that? Totally unreadable.”

Kato snorted, but the humor didn’t quite settle. He wasn’t used to this—someone noticing, someonedoingsomething about it. No one ever cared. Not when he wrecked things, not when he drank himself stupid, not when he was practicallyscreamingfor someone to stop him. It was just... expected.“Oh, there goes Kato, fucking up his life again.”

Skye was right—he was a walking cry for help. And now that someone had finally answered… He didn’t know what to do with that.

His jaw clenched. Something was clawing its way up his throat, too raw, too unfamiliar, toomuch. He swallowed it down, reaching for a screwdriver instead. The metal was cool in his grip, grounding.

“Well,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders like shaking off a weight, “guess we’d better get started.”

Skye didn’t press. Didn’t ask for more. He just handed Kato a gear and got to work.