The_Aetherwright_s_Genesis

The dust swirled around Corvus's worn boots as he returned to their usual spot after the midday bell. The metallic tang of aetherstone clung to the air, a constant reminder of their toil. He found Elara already there, but her usual quiet composure was marred by a tight-lipped frown. He noticed immediately that she was missing a corner of her tunic, a patch crudely torn away.

He sat beside her, placing his meager aetherstone pile a respectful distance from hers. "What happened?" he asked, keeping his voice low. Grok was always lurking.

Elara avoided his gaze, picking at a loose thread on her remaining tunic. "Nothing for you to worry about," she mumbled.

Corvus frowned. He'd seen that look before. It was the look of someone trying to swallow bitterness. "Don't," he said, his voice firmer than he intended. "Don't shut me out. Not after… everything."

She finally met his eyes, and he saw the flicker of unshed tears. "They took my rations," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Brim and Krog."

A knot of anger tightened in Corvus's stomach. He should have known. They'd been even more sullen than usual since Morian's visit, their usual taunts replaced with resentful glares. He'd even thought that they were afraid, but now it was clear, they were simply looking for an easier target.

"They said I was getting too comfortable," Elara continued, her voice gaining a slight edge. "That I was sharing with you. That I didn't deserve what little I had."

Corvus clenched his fists, the fine grit of aetherstone digging into his skin. He remembered the dried fruit Elara had given him, the small kindness that had felt like a lifeline. The thought of those two taking that away from her, of her going hungry because of him… it sparked something beyond simple self-preservation. It was a flicker of protectiveness, a nascent sense of responsibility he hadn't anticipated.

"How much?" he asked.

"Almost everything," Elara replied, her voice flat. "Enough to get me through the next few days, at least. They left me a handful of rock dust and some stale bread. Said it was all I deserved."

Corvus looked around, ensuring Grok was out of earshot. The overseer was currently berating a group of wards near the lower levels, his voice a gravelly roar. "We need to get it back," he said, his voice low and urgent.

Elara shook her head. "Don't be foolish, Corvus. It's not worth it. They're bigger, stronger… and they'll just take more if you try."

"But you'll starve," Corvus protested. "Or at least be weaker. You need your strength to work. And…"

He trailed off, unsure how to articulate the burgeoning feeling within him. He couldn't say 'I care about you,' not after all his talk of self-preservation. But the sentiment was there, unspoken, hanging heavy in the dusty air.

"And?" Elara prompted, her eyes searching his.

"And it's not right," Corvus finished lamely. "They can't just… do that."

Elara sighed, a weary sound that spoke of years of enduring the quarry's injustices. "They do it all the time, Corvus. It's the way things are here. The strong take from the weak."

"Then we need to be stronger," Corvus said, his mind already racing. He couldn't confront Brim and Krog directly, not without risking serious injury, or worse, attracting Grok's attention. But perhaps… perhaps he could use his burgeoning aether-weaving abilities to even the odds. A subtle push, a misplaced tool, a carefully orchestrated accident…

He glanced at his pile of aetherstone. It wasn't much, but it was enough to fuel his efforts for the next few days. He needed to be careful, discreet. Grok was already watching him, and any sudden increase in productivity would raise suspicion. But if he could subtly enhance his efforts, perhaps he could earn enough extra to replace Elara's stolen rations.