Out of the star-smudged blackness, they floated towards a rotating world that was stranger by far than any planet they had ever seen.
Monse: "Is that a planet?"
It wasn't truly spherical, more a gargantuan forge forged by cosmic hands-a creation of stacked, rotating metal rings the size of continents. Every one of these discs turned in its own different speed, with an unending grind and screech, like ancient gears. The friction between the layers created streaks of molten light, glowing veins of lava bleeding through the cracks like liquid fire.
Wiliaquo: He slowly rose to his feet from the platform, eyes fixed upon the structure. "It is not a planet… it is a machine."
The outer rings were blackened and scarred, coated in slag and ash, hardened like cooled steel. But deeper inwards, the discs glowed red, then orange, blinding white, until at the centre there churned a molten core, exposed like an open furnace heart. Liquid metal surged between the rings in glowing streams, pouring in fiery waterfalls into deep cracks below.
Tiffany: She squinted toward it, watching sparks dance across the surface like stars. "It's alive…
It pulsed, slow and rhythmic, like a great metal heartbeat. Giant cylindrical forge towers rose between the discs like vertical spines, channeling flame from the core. No smoke. No atmosphere. Just fire, metal, and motion.
As they approached through the rotating discs, a wave of heat struck them dead on, disrupting their energy and causing them to land roughly on the dark, metallic surface. Not far from their landing spot was the sound of metal clashing.
Wiliaquo: He helped the two to their feet, turning to face the large core. One of the waterfalls poured down upon a large metallic being. "Stay close..."
Ziliari came out from the luminous light, like a figure chiseled from the planet itself.
He towered, built from dark, ashen metal and scorched alloy plates that fused like hardened slag. His body seemed far less born than forged. Thick, armored limbs moved with slow weight; each joint hissed steam and sparks, as if his entire form was still cooling from some creation.
His chest and torso were made of layered steel, but his stomach held a circular furnace door, glowing bright molten orange from within. The hatch rattled slightly with every breath, and embers drifted from its seams like tiny fireflies. Along his back and shoulders, pipes and coiled metal tubes ran, pulsing with heated energy, their brightness glowing faintly under the metallic skin as if from veins of magma.
His arms were the shape of great forge brackets, but his hands were a work of genius in living invention. For a moment only, they remained hands. At will, the fingers slid and groaned and folded into other forging tools: a hammerhead, a surface of glowing anvil, a chisel, tongs, and a spiked shaping claw. With every shift and change came the rasp of grinding metal, the movement of gears under skin, the flash of sparks jumping between moving plates.
His eyes themselves were deep-set furnaces, two glowing cracks in dark iron, flickering like molten fire in their depths. His voice rumbled when he spoke, like smoldering coal being stirred deep underground.
He neither dripped nor burned like Valkun, nor did he shimmer with earth as Eartakiel had. He stood as something else entirely, a living forge. Built for creation. Built for shaping. Built for making things that last.
Ziliari, the Forgemind of Worlds.
Ziliari: His hands grabbed hold of a robotic body that he was working on, his hand shifting to a torch, burning the dark steel together. Purple lines of magma lights burned from the machine, orange flickering within at different parts. He looked up from his creation, his furnace-like face tilted. "Visitors?"
Wiliaquo: He tucked Monse and Tiffany behind him, "Are you Zilari?"
Ziliari: His hands shifted back to normal, holding them outward to present himself, "The one and only. You must be Wiliaquo, Monse, and Tiffany. Yes, I knew you were coming."
Monse: "You knew?" She poked her head out from behind Wiliaquo.
Ziliari: "It is my job to know. I heard Eartakiels fall from light-years away. I know why you all are here."
Wiliaquo: "Then you must understand the urgency of our situation." He stepped closer, embracing the heat of the figure.
Ziliari: "Yes. Leaving the elemental timeline is no easy feat, you know?"
Tiffany: "Does that mean you can't help us?"
Ziliari: "I didn't say that, little one." His furnace door mouth flipped around to a smile, and he reached into his stomach, pulling out a strange diamond-shaped metal box. With a turn, its plating began shifting to reveal a glowing golden orb. "Once you can hold on to this orb, it will take you to a freshly crafted timeline with a world just for you. You'll be able to create new life there."
Without any hesitation, they nodded, saying thanks for grabbing hold of the orb, vanishing with a bright light. "Oh my, that was quick thinking." He shattered the box in his hand so they couldn't be followed. He turned back towards his work, placing a dark cloak over the robot. Hexagon-shaped plating formed over the metallic exoskeleton, covering everything except for its face.
"You are now reborn, mister Galacor."
Galacor: His orange eyes with purple pupils slowly flickered on, and the purple stone on his forehead glowed bright, powering his entire body. He lifted his hand, his fingers shifting and opening to form an assortment of tools. His half mask shifted, gears turned slowly as he stood up, his now robotic skull-like face staring up at Zilari. "This will do...As promised." His chest opened up, placing the dark purple metal cube on the ground, "That is the last Alvanium in the cosmos...across any timeline. Use it well..."
Ziliari: He nodded, placing the cube inside his stomach. "What will you do now?"
Galacor: He tapped some buttons on his forearm, "I am an assassin, so...I can not share that with you. Good day, Zilari." He vanished in a blur of diamond-shaped lights.
Ziliari: "What a broken man." He turned back to his forge.