Despite Kafka’s protest, Dallion spent a large part of the day in the cloud city. The rhythm of the place fascinated him. The contrast with Jiroh’s family on the ground was astounding. It was as if someone had drained all the joy from the furies living on the ground and placed it here. People felt free, almost careless, cheer emanating from them like radio beacons. It was slightly different inside. As back on Earth, the service industry had a far less enjoyable time. Jiroh never hid that her job hadn’t been the most enjoyable, although even that seemed better than being a farmer. It seemed that it wasn’t so much the work, but the attitude everyone had—a mutually agreed feeling that furies on the ground were outcasts from the rest of society.

Going through the shops, Dallion regretted not asking for some pocket change for their deal. Exotic and highly questionable food aside, the shops sold everything from clothes, to furniture, to cloud pets. Jiroh had made a point to warn Dallion to keep away from them, but for some reason, most of them seemed to like him a lot. If anything, he had trouble getting them away from him. On several occasions, embarrassed owners rushed to him, pouring apologies and forcefully dragging their clouds away. One—a mother of five—even offered to give Dallion a cub from her cloud litter. It was a tempting offer, but Jiroh made the firm decision to decline.

Come afternoon, the group was back on their way to Jiroh’s home. The sensation of joy and euphoria quickly vanished, replaced by realistic pessimism.

“Don’t trust them,” Katka said.

“They weren’t lying,” Dallion said, just to oppose her. It was self-evident that the library alliance wasn’t to be trusted. Even so, something in the mage made him want to take the opposite view just on principle. If this were the awakened world, this was definitely a flaw he was going to address in the next awakening trial.

“You can avoid the truth without lying,” the mage openly scoffed.

The library’s show of good faith came by evening. Two furies arrived with a series of books and what appeared to be local currency. In his mind, Dallion imagined them as people in suits and glasses, carrying a black suitcase. In reality, they were dressed in elegant casual wear made of light gray clouds, pulling a medium-sized cloud along through air currents.

There were no pleasantries, no long conversation or requests, just a mention that Olm had sent this with his compliments. Moments later, they were gone.

Jiroh’s family kept the money—with her taking half out of principle—and the rest was given to Katka. Dallion took one of the “books,” though mostly to learn how to read fury. He was also forced to give his left gauntlet to the mage so she could interact with the fury books. At that point, the reading began, continuing throughout the night. Despite all her faults, it had to be admitted that the mage excelled in what she was going. Unlike Dallion, who was reading one book at a time, she spread out a dozen around her, reading them simultaneously. The speed at which she was doing it was outright impressive, almost giving the impression she was combat splitting.

“Complete trash,” the mage said one hour before morning. “Some gift of goodwill. They probably just sent this to keep our interest. Anything good in what you’re reading?”

“Not sure,” Dallion replied. He had gone through three quarters of the book. Despite the apparently small size of fury books, they packed in far more words than one would have thought possible. “I’m at the third age of creation. Things are a bit unclear.”

“Give that here,” Katka said with the annoyance of a middle-school teacher.

Dallion didn’t protest. He wasn’t in the mood to read more, anyway. Right now, he had far more pressing concerns, namely the patches of orange on his fingers. For the moment, there didn’t seem to be many, but they were definitely spreading.

“Another creation myth.” The mage sighed, moving the book to the side. “This world has a lot of them.”

“More than usual?”

“A lot more than back home, and definitely more than the awakened world. All the books I read were creation myths. Up to now I’ve read over a hundred accounts, dozens in the same book. The worst of it is that all of them are painfully similar.”

“Fun.” Dallion liked down on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t find anything useful,” Katka added.

This caught Dallion’s attention, making him instantly sit up.

“It’s mostly guesswork, but I think that most of the ancient heroes were awakened. The descriptions are embellishments, of course, but a lot of the small details wouldn’t make sense unless they were awakened.”

“Fully awakened?” Dallion asked. “So, Jiroh wasn’t the first to go back.”

“Seems not. Makes one wonder how much of our own myths were actually real.” There was a slight pause. “Anyway, there seem to be a lot of them returning, often after a long absence, with new and unusual powers. So far, I haven’t seen any mention of them disappearing. My guess is that they’re keeping that part.”

Awakened returning to influence things. It was one of those things that made sense, but also didn’t. On the other hand, maybe that would explain the obsession with alchemy that had taken place on Earth. The ability to transform one metal into another was deemed impossible—unless tremendous amounts of energy were used—yet even a third gate awakened could achieve it easily. Out of all the awakened powers, however, that was one of the least that Dallion could use. Using music alone, he could do pretty much anything he wished, even without the help of telecommunications and social media. Within weeks, he could learn pretty much everything there was to learn in the world, in any language. He could go around the globe without the need of plains, or cars, or even ships. Most of all, he could create devices that would have revolutionized everything. None of the mythological heroes or deities to have done anything of the sort, he had to come to the conclusion that no one had come back.

“You think they know about the awakened world?” Dallion asked.

“Unlikely. Rather, I’d say they are afraid that if we find a way to go back, we might bring hordes of invading armies and take over the world.”

Dallion gave her a blank stare.

“I’m serious,” the mage insisted. “They weren’t surprised that we were from another world, nor that we were able to find iron where there shouldn’t be any. That means they know a thing or two. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew you were hiding armor beneath your robes.”

“I doubt it.” Dallion lied, but he was thinking the same thing. As much as he wanted to claim that it had all been thanks to his music skill, everything had been a tad too easy. “I’ll try to get some sleep.” He turned around.

Morning came and went. For a moment, it almost seemed like Dallion would get to sleep late until he was woken up by Jiroh’s younger siblings. The furies were more curious about last night’s visit than were healthy. Of course, Dallion couldn’t tell the real story, so he stuck to vagueness, trying to mimic most of his conversations with the Moons. Thankfully, he didn’t have to do it for long. Less than an hour after dawn, a new set of furies appeared. This time, they had arrived with their own cloud platform.

There was a quick conversation between the furies, Jiroh, and her father to which Dallion wasn’t privy. He made an attempt to listen in, but his perception level wasn’t enough to pick up anything that was said.

“You’re strange,” one of Jiroh’s younger brothers said, as he floated down from the roof.

“I’ve been told.” Dallion put on a smile as he still tried to hear what was going on.

“Why do you use water to wash?”

“The moon controls water, so it is only—"

“Father says you’re different. You don’t use air for anything.”

“He’s right.” The conversation wasn’t going the way Dallion wanted it. “I’ll always be different, just as Ji is. We all become different when affected by the moon.”

Usually, such an explanation would be enough, but this child wasn’t buying it. Dallion could feel more than doubt, more than suspicion; the young fury was outright convinced that he was lying. If there was anything the child was uncertain of, it was the truth behind the lie.

“Dal,” Jiroh shouted, waving to him.

“Moon blessings with you,” Dallion said to the child, then walked off to join Katka on his way to the transport cloud.

“Trouble?” the mage asked. She had put the sea iron gauntlet on her left hand, and didn’t seem to have any intention of returning it.

“Nothing serious,” he whispered back. “Did you find anything in the last book?”

“Just more trash.” This time, she was the one lying.

You did, didn’t you? Dallion thought. If there were any doubts that she might have changed, they were now dashed. Regardless of the temporary alliance, the mage remained his enemy.

Both Katka and Dallion climbed into the cloud. They were soon joined by two furies from the library alliance. Interestingly enough, Jiroh remained outside.

“Ji’s not coming along?” Dallion asked.

“She’ll be going to the Thundervein library to look through our book archive,” one of the furies replied. “We’ll be going somewhere else. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty to do there.”

The higher the cloud rose into the sky, the faster it seemed to get. Within minutes, it was faster than Dallion felt comfortable.

“You’re sitting on iron mesh,” the fury said. “No need to be tense.”

Easy for you to say, Dallion thought.

The cloud kept on accelerating on a course towards the horizon. Clods flashed by, as did the land below. Mountains emerged in the distance, then slowly grew higher and higher. It didn’t take long to figure out that was their destination—a resource deposit. The lack of nearby clouds suggested that the place was kept secret from the majority of furies.

Nearer and nearer the cloud kept going to the cliff, until suddenly it stopped without warning, changing shape in the process. A net of air currents prevented the passengers from flying out, keeping them in place, like giant air cushions. The experience wasn’t pleasant, but it was over.

Once that was over, part of the cliff changed color, revealing a large opening for the cloud to gently glide in.

“Welcome to Mount Seven,” Olm said in greeting. Strangely enough, other than the pair of furies that had driven Dallion here, there didn’t seem to be anyone else. Given that it was a secret mining facility, Dallion expected there to be at least several dozen people. “I hope your trip was pleasant.”

You’re mocking me. Dallion gritted his teeth and put on a fake smile.

“It was fast,” he said, stepping out.

A while later, so did Katka. Remembering the mage’s reaction to Dallion’s combat tactics back in the awakened world he could see she was handling it far worse than she was letting on.

“I have already set up everything you might need, including a furnace,” the thunder fury was quick to say. “Ore isn’t an issue, and—"

“Do you have clay?” Dallion interrupted. “I’ll also need water and wooden tools.”

“Clay?” the fury sounded confused. He knew what clay was, since the word existed in the Fury language. However, the request was unexpected.

“And wax. That won’t be a problem, right?”

“No.” Olm nodded to the pair of furies, who expediently darted out of the mountain. “You’ll have your materials. Anything else?”

“Just take me to the forge.”

“Do you have any books here?” Katka asked, her voice still slightly shaky.

“We have something better. A theater that can create a perfect copy of any book in all of our libraries. Selections are being made as we speak. There’s just one minor detail, however.”

For some reason, Dallion felt a chill down his spine. Old had deliberately separated them from Jiroh, so if it came down to a fight, he was almost certain to win.

“As you explain the method to me, a cloud copy of you will be sent to a few other facilities. Needless to say that if they cannot achieve the same results following your process, we will consider our collaboration over. That won’t be a problem, right?” A sarcastic smile appeared on the thunder fury’s face.