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The sun over the Black Market seemed to shine brighter that day, as though the forces in charge of dictating the weather were trying to match my mood. “For peace and for profit,” as we liked to say, the dimension’s climate adjusting to maximize productivity in that same cryptic way that the Black Market picked its portal destinations.

Somewhere in America this time, if I had to guess. I could barely pay attention to anything beyond the wedding these days. The same could be said of the chatter emanating in a continuous stream from Niko’s mouth. Down Mystery Row, cutting through the heart of the busy bazaar, all I could really do was nod along as his mouth went a mile a minute.

“And then I was thinking that we need to redesign our grenade egg things so that they disintegrate into sand instead of leaving piles of broken glass everywhere. But then I remembered that we also have to make the siphoning mechanism stop stinging so much, which is actually your part of the job, and — Jack? Jackson! Are you even listening?”

“Sure, sure I am,” I muttered absently. “Biodegradable grenades. Make it so the mechanism doesn’t make you go ouch.”

I was interested in what he had to say. Honest. But the looming majesty of the new Halls of Making had captured my attention, even from this distance. Even in the grandest days of artifice, the old guild had never looked so imposing from afar, and yet so delicate, too.

Gone were the great brick, stone, and metal buildings that housed the guild’s powerful machines, that contained its many workshops. This was a new guild, all the masonry replaced by the strange, organic structures that served the same purposes of storage and shelter as any other building.

Only these twisted up into the sky like beanstalks, covered in carpets of flowers that greeted the sun with their petals. They must have numbered in the thousands, like feathers and tufts of fur on some great, flowery beast, channeling solar energy into power to be used for the noble art of artifice.

The tallest of the spires dwarfed the others with its ambition, a bit of compromise and ultimately a surprise collaboration between Master Lobelia and Master Vikhyat. It stood in the center of the compound like the antenna of a botanical machine, a floral appendage reaching for the warmth of the Black Market’s sun.

This spire, most of all, would supply a huge amount of the power we needed for the greatest of our projects. Its components sat sparkling at its base, constructed out of purest crystal, refined with artifice and magic, exactly as Luciana and Octavian Pryde intended.

Preston Smith stood by the components and control panel, muscles bulging as he waved his arm in a huge, welcoming arc. I beamed and waved back, quickening my step at the sight of his smile, outpacing Niko, who had to jog a little to keep up. I gave him an embarrassed, apologetic grin and a shrug.

“Oh, go on and play with your friend,” he grumbled, waving me off with a huff. “We can always talk shop later.”

I tried not to squeal as I skittered off, and I tried not to feel too bad for Niko, either. I knew he was going to come hang out with me and Preston, anyway. He’d be too curious, no doubt, after seeing what we’d done with the control panel and the rest of the device’s components.

Preston wrapped me up in a sweaty hug, clapping me on the back with his huge hand as a greeting. He did the same when Niko trotted over a little while later, almost forgetting how much bigger he was. Good thing he didn’t accidentally fold Niko like a card table or we’d have to answer to a very angry Reza Arshad.

“This looks incredible,” Niko said, once he’d recovered from Preston’s greeting and stopped himself from coughing up a lung. “I can’t believe you guys have done so much in so little time.”

I scratched the back of my head, offering a sheepish smile. It was definitely a wonder what a couple of artificers could do with several sleepless nights and maybe a little too much irresponsible spending. We’d spared no expense for the schematics that Mom and Dad had left behind, especially when we got to the part where it said that the control mechanisms could be designed to preference.

Of course we went wild. Of course we went over the budget. The device was designed to siphon someone’s arcane essence and potentially amplify it for other applications. In terms of artifice, that could mean anything from moving a flying airship to powering an entire city. So we went with something thematic, something appropriate, especially knowing that Xander Wright himself would be one of our first test subjects.

“It’s beautiful,” Niko cooed. He ran his fingers over the control panel, carved out of a single block of crystal to resemble an open book on an elegant pedestal. Trust a Grayhaven boy to find beauty in the most academic of aesthetics, the very nerdiest sort of design.

And trust Flint Lockstone to charge us an arm and a leg for lending us his expertise. As a member of Marquise & Empress, the Black Market’s guild of jewelers and gemologists, he was our best bet for both obtaining and enchanting such a fine piece of crystal. To be fair, he did offer me a very good price for the wedding rings, a number that miraculously wasn’t quite as painful as what I’d paid him for our engagement rings.

“So this is all hooked up to that bit over there,” Preston explained, tracing a line along the ground toward the second hunk of crystal connected to the first one. I should have mentioned the second hunk of crystal, but to be fair, I did mention blowing our budget quite a few times.

“Think of it as a battery,” I said. “A receptacle for storing arcane essence. The subject — in this case, my beautiful husband-to-be — places his hands on the panel. Then through the magic of artifice — and the magic of magic itself, I suppose — the essence makes its way over here. Only it’s supercharged. Amplified. Theoretically.”

I patted the second crystal affectionately. This one wasn’t quite as intricate as the siphoning mechanism, but it was still a beautiful piece on its own. Thin bands of precious metal followed its edges and angles, encasing the clear crystal in a network of silver and brass. Viewed from a certain angle, the battery resembled an oversized, intricate pendant, or an empty terrarium waiting to be filled with nature’s wonders.

“Theoretically,” Niko repeated with a raised eyebrow. “And do you have a name for this thing just yet? Only because I know that you aren’t very good at naming things. No offense, Preston.”

Preston wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand and shrugged. “None taken.”

“Very rude,” I said. “But, uh, you’re right. We haven’t really come up with a name for it. I guess it feels weird because it was Mom and Dad’s prototype and they didn’t really have anything fancy to call it. We did find the words ‘arcane engine’ scrawled in Mom’s handwriting somewhere in the notes, though. It’s a good enough working name, I think.”

“An arcane engine,” Niko echoed. “Pretty neat. Almost as if it’s meant to power something else.”

“That’s what we’re hoping to figure out. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be able to scale up the design. We’ll see how far this baby can take us.”

I rapped the crystal battery with my knuckles, then did a double take when it produced a disproportionately loud and hollow sound. Preston chuckled and pointed past my head. I turned to find the source of the noise. Master Vikhyat was punching one of the guild buildings.

“What in the — wow. Look at him go.” I squinted to keep the sun out of my eyes. “What is he doing, exactly?”

“Testing the structural integrity of the outer walls, I imagine.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Master Lobelia all but materialized from one of the nearby buildings. She’d somehow camouflaged herself to blend in with the colorful carpets of flowers. She was an alraune — a sentient hybrid of plant and human — and apparently I still had so much to learn about her kind.

“Have you been hiding over there the whole time?”

She shrugged. “Not on purpose, I assure you. Now that the Halls of Making are absolutely covered in flora, I suppose it makes it easy for someone like me to — well, to forget myself. To lose myself among the flowers. You should try it some time, Jackson.”

I furrowed my brow at her, wondering if she was serious, then experiencing a momentary stab of existential terror. What if I did lose myself among the flowers? Not to be too paranoid about it all, but it would take a while for all thoughts of the Chrysanthemysts to leave my brain. If those crystalline flowers taught me one thing, it was to be very cautious about pretty things.

Another noise banged throughout the Halls of Making. I frowned at Master Vikhyat, watching as his muscles knotted and bulged with every strike. I’d tell him to stop harassing my guild, but also knew that he was perfectly capable of turning my face into steak tartare with a single punch. I turned to Lobelia for an explanation, but she spoke first.

“Not to worry, Jackson. Vikhyat and I discussed this at length. I was most curious about the durability of these structures now that they’re fully grown and treated with ironmist. I do apologize, but it’s something of a matter of pride for me, too. I’d be so embarrassed if Lobelia’s ladder turned out to be no better for construction than some flimsy sheets of plywood.”

She had a point. That was the name of the plant that had created all the buildings, explaining their twisting, tendril-like shapes. Ironmist itself was an alchemical substance designed to further reinforce natural materials, allowing for some truly unique creations. Armor out of bark, for instance, or razor-sharp knives out of leaves and petals.

“It looks like everything is sturdy enough, at least.” I flinched when Vikhyat struck the same wall with a final resounding bang, which rewarded him with a colorful shower of petals. He strode over to us still sputtering and plucking them out of his beard and hair. Pity. I thought it was a good look for him.

“Strong enough,” Vikhyat declared, rotating his arm at the shoulder, muscles gliding under his glistening skin.

“Wonderful,” Lobelia said. “Thank you, Master Vikhyat. I think it’s safe to say that these structures would at least be insulated from natural disasters, rare as those may be in the Black Market.”

He nodded, then flashed a grin in my direction. “I would worry less about the outside of these buildings, Master Pryde. It might be time to focus your attention on filling the inside of them instead.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Huh? But we’ve pretty much furnished everything. Haven’t we?”

Niko smacked himself in the forehead. Preston spoke for them both.

“Jack, I think Master Vikhyat is talking about filling the Halls of Making with people again. You know, people like us. Artificers.”

“Ohhh.” I blinked into the distance. Some guild master I was shaping up to be. “I mean, we haven’t really planned for that, apart from advertising in the local paper. And Xander and I have talked about doing some tours at the three main academies. You know, hop on over to Grayhaven, then the Wispwood, then the Iron College, see if we can’t drum up some interest for career day.”

“Yes, yes,” Vikhyat said patiently. “All well and good, young Master Jackson. But have you considered turning to the old guard? The originals. Those who once belonged to the Halls of Making.”

I gasped. How long had it been since the original artificers had gone their separate ways, the survivors scattered by the explosion? Lobelia took my hand in hers, her palm and fingers as soft and warm as her smile.

“You’ve built a new home for the artificers, Master Jackson. Isn’t it time to welcome them back?”