Two Futures
Two dreams for a single, failing world
In the weeks that followed, the city split slowly into two dreams.
Whereas the Empire poured its last strength into reviving the ancient Art, the people turned to iron.
The emperor, whose power depended wholly on magic, could imagine no other future.
His priests gathered the failing stones, which had once lit a thousand years, into a single hall.
Whereas they prayed for the old light to return, Sera and her friends built new machines.
In the slums the engines multiplied, which frightened the palace more than any army could.
Whereas the Art belonged to the few, the machine could be built by almost anyone.
Kaelen, whose duty was to record the truth, now stood between the two histories.
He could write of an Empire reborn, or of an Empire replaced, but not of both.
Whereas his masters wanted a story of the Art restored, the streets told another tale.
Every day new workshops rose, each of which added another voice to the coming change.
The emperor issued a , which forbade the making of engines on pain of death.
Whereas the filled the priests with hope, it filled the people with cold anger.
Machines that had been hidden were now shown openly, which no law could any longer stop.
Kaelen visited the palace, whose halls had grown dim and cold despite every prayer.
Whereas the emperor spoke of a thousand more years, his own lamps flickered as he spoke.
Then Kaelen returned to the slums, where the air was loud with the breath of engines.
Here nothing was beautiful, yet everything was alive, which the palace no longer was.
He understood that a historian must choose which future he believes will truly last.
Whereas one path clung to a dying past, the other reached toward an dawn.
To record the Art's revival would please his masters, whose had once meant everything.
To record the machines would be , which could cost him his freedom or his life.
Yet the truth, he knew, does not bend to whichever side happens to hold the power.
Whereas fear asked him to be silent, his asked him to bear .
That night Kaelen opened a fresh book, whose pages had never known a single word.
And upon the first blank page he wrote the name of the age that was being born.