Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 77: 75. What is Love

Read chapter 77 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

75. What is Love I am Alastor Ayla, ten years old, a novice artificer, and not a very good healer. A fire crackles in the hearth, its warm light dancing over my parchment as I scribble as fast as I can think. I’d hurried to settle in by the fire after dinner, eager to catch the sparks of inspiration that had been building all day before they slipped away. It had started as a vague idea, but if it could work… it could change the world. Maybe even more than my father’s train. The thought had made my chest tighten with excitement. I couldn’t wait to show him. Somewhere along the way, a vague idea turned into a scatter of sketches spread across the floor around me. I’m lying on my stomach in front of the fire, one foot kicking idly in the air as I draw. A quiet creak of metal behind me pulls me out of it. I glance up. The windows are dark. The manor is silent. I hadn’t noticed when it got that way. My quill slows, then stops. I stifle a yawn, only just realizing how tired I am. I guess I lost track of time. Behind me, Shadow sits in one of the plush armchairs by the fire, methodically cleaning and oiling a pile of his and Maribel’s weapons. I know he stays up late, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen how he spends it. It’s… strange. I know he’s an enchanted machine. I helped rebuild him. But the way he works a cloth over a blade, carefully rubbing away old blood with steady, practiced motions… there’s something about it that feels entirely human. I tap my quill lightly against the parchment. A flying machine stares back at me. Broad wings, like Talon’s, and a mana motor inspired by the one I designed for Shadow. Working on the two of them is what opened my eyes to a world of new possibilities. Talon is a flying machine, how hard could it be to make something designed to carry people and cargo? It seems like such a small step when I look at it on the page. However, there is one key thing missing. Ren says the enchantment that gives Shadow and Talon their consciousness can’t just be copied into anything. Giving a tool a mind of its own just to make it work for you would be cruel. And who’s to say it would cooperate? Or for how long? In any case… my father’s train doesn’t need to run itself. It has a driver. An airship wouldn’t be so different—maybe closer to a horse-drawn wagon. It would still have someone at the helm; it doesn’t need to move on its own, and the mana motor is like the horse. What I’m missing is something like reins, a way for the operator to control it. Father’s train uses levers and switches, but that probably won’t work with a mana motor. Ren thinks it should be possible with the right combination of runes. He just doesn’t know what that combination is just yet. But he’s smart. I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually. A sense of calm settles over me, and I catch the faint scent of lavender even before the parlor door creaks open. I look up to see Lady Willow drift through the doorway, a silver plate of biscuits balanced in her hand. The rich smell of fresh, honeyed bread follows her in. I smile despite myself, my mouth already watering as my eyes track the plate until she sets it beside me. “Competing with the crystals, are we?” Willow says sweetly as she lowers herself onto the carpet beside me. Her gaze drifts to the sketch resting on top of the stack in my hands. “I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am,” I admit, glancing around the room as if the answer might be written somewhere I missed. My eyes land on one of the crystal lamps along the wall. “You’re up rather late, young one,” Willow chuckles softly. “I was beginning to wonder if you meant to outlast the mana in the lamps.” “I wouldn’t stand a chance,” I say, stifling a yawn as I reach for a biscuit. Willow smiles at me as I bite into the flaky sweet bread, before her bright blue eyes drift back to my sketch. “What are you making?” she asks. “It’s a flying vehicle,” I answer, sliding the stack of parchment aside so I don’t cover them in crumbs. “But a