Aetas had never stood on a cloud before. The desire coursed through him with a sensation humans might have likened to hunger, so he emerged from the ocean and called for his brother.
Caelum descended from the sky. He soared on wings that branched from his arms in feathers of deep topaz streaked with veins of silver, like the halo of a storm cloud when the sun sits behind it. His skin was the deep blue of the night sky, freckled with white star-like diamonds. They winked and shone as he turned toward his golden brother.
“Will you take me up into the sky, Caelum?” Aetas asked. “I have never been, and I would like to explore your domain. I have seen Oceana’s world, and Terra’s, but now I would like to explore yours.”
“It would be an honor, Brother.”
So Caelum held Aetas and beat his powerful wings to launch them higher, away from the water and earth that Aetas loved and up into a colder world, thin of air and thick with moisture. They landed upon the ridge of a cloud, and the gods’ feet settled on swirling iridescent fog.
They were sailing on an insubstantial ship, and the world below was their sea. Lights shuttered and blinked beneath them, and the cold darkness above swallowed sound. Aetas could see into the heart of that darkness, into the galaxies of paintbrush colors and the swirling trembling masses of stars dying and being born. Somewhere beyond rested Chronos. He’d grown weary and had long ago left his four creations to care for the world in his stead.
“What do you think of my domain, Brother?” Caelum asked. His eyes were clear and silver, refracting light like shards of glass. They reflected the fires and the lights below, the people small as weevils, their tiny homes and their structured lives.
“It is a good place,” said Aetas, “if a bit solemn.”
“I enjoy the quiet,” Caelum said. “The restless energy of the world and the restless energy of the galaxies meet here in this sliver that is mine.”
Aetas thought it was a noble place to stay. But even as he thought this, Caelum pointed down to earth.
“Something is wrong,” he said. “Aetas, where is the morning?”
Aetas had been standing here for so long, he didn’t know how much time had fled from his body. Panicked, he reached for the time threads that connected him to earth. They were stretched too far, too thin. Their light turned pale like wheat bleached from the sun.
“I must return,” he said.
Caelum nodded and took him from the cloud, and together they flew back to earth. Aetas wound the threads around himself as they went, pulling in the night, bringing in the morning. Time shuddered and seized, stubborn at first, then giving in with a sigh.
Standing on the shore, Aetas watched the crescent of the sun begin to rise.
Caelum looked at him, worry creasing his brow.
“My brother, you seem tired.”
In case Chronos was listening, Aetas said, “I am fine now that I have returned. Thank you for showing me the sky. I will never forget it.” But deep within his core he felt the weariness building, the tremor of the time threads, the fear that he would run out of strength to maintain this beautiful earth beneath the stars.
Please, sir, tell me it isn’t true.”
The Lead stood at his window, smoothing his mustache with thick fingers. It was odd to think those fingers had once been in the field, delicately fixing clockwork. Most mechanics’ hands were slender, like Danny’s.
“Sir,” Danny tried again, sitting on the very edge of his seat. “Please.”
“Daniel,” the Lead sighed, finally turning to him, “what do you expect me to do? You’re the best in your class, it’s true, but Lucas is more qualified to assist the other mechanics at the new Maldon tower. He has a good disposition for it. More than that, the Enfield assignments were difficult for you, and I don’t want you under more strain.”
“They weren’t difficult. If you read my reports again, you’ll see I didn’t have any trouble. Sir, this … this assignment is what I’ve wanted for months. You told me you would consider me.”
“And so I did. But I’ve come to the conclusion that the emotional attachment you have to Maldon could affect your work. Your father being freed depends on this project’s success. I can’t trust a mechanic with so much to lose on this job. It’s too dangerous, both for the tower and the mechanic.”
Danny shook. He wanted to smash the room apart, rip the little metal balls off the kinetic toy and throw them at the window until it cracked.
“More than that,” the Lead went on, sitting, “you hit another mechanic. Lord knows your reasons, but I feel the stress may have gotten to you. You’ll be put on suspension for a couple of weeks.”
“Lucas provoked me!”
“That’s not a good reason, Daniel.”
A scream built in Danny’s throat, but he held it there, trapped, and it burned his vocal cords. Nobody believed him—nobody cared. But if he didn’t do something soon, Colton might hurt himself again.