The day stretched to three. Even with Dallion’s forging skills, finding enough ore wasn’t as easy as initially thought. The individual quantities were small, and each had to be heated to the point of melting by Jiroh using lightning. The process was cumbersome even by ancient standards, though fascinating for the fury’s entire family. Only Jiroh’s mother would occasionally remind her youngest that they had to check out the crops. Every now and again, Jiroh’s younger siblings would appear with the in groups to observe the scorching process.

Everything would have been much easier if Dallion had his hammer with him. Sadly, other than his clothes and armor, the only item he had in his possession was the thread cutter. Even his coin pouch was gone—which would have been quite useful about now. A silver coin wasn’t much back in Nerosal, but here it would have saved them a lot of work.

At the end of the third day, once enough metal had been gathered for a five-ounce ingot, Dallion went to bed early. The preparations were all done, so he wanted to be fresh for the trip to the city. However, although he slept… he didn’t get to rest.

Barely had he closed his eyes that he found himself on the roof of the house, sitting on a balcony of cloud matter. It was evening. The sun had almost vanished beneath the horizon, granting the moon control of the sky. Rubbing his eyes, Dallion went to the edge of the cloud to get a better view. It was at that point that he realized that he was barefoot.

“No sea iron,” he said to himself as he looked down. The cloud felt soft, like captured wind—an extraordinary sensation, but also one that was completely impossible. “This is a dream.”

“No,” a new voice said behind him. “This is a conversation.”

Turning around, Dallion expected to see one of the many forms of the Green Moon. Instead, there was a tall woman with fiery orange hair, wearing full metal armor or bright orange, as if it had been made from the evening sun itself.

“You’re not Felygn,” Dallion said.

“Dararr.” The woman moved closer. “And you’re in big trouble.”

“Because I saved Jiroh?” Dallion asked. Even in his dream state, he knew exactly what the Moon meant, but didn’t agree.

“You let yourself be dragged in. She was one of my chosen. It was my decision to let her travel back to her home. It wasn’t supposed to be easy, but like you, she chose a path that she could handle.” She disappeared in a blur, appearing on the other side of Dallion.

Dararr the Orange Moon, he thought. Patron of the furies, she was also the epitome of speed, or reaction as the trait went. Dallion had no idea why she had entered his dreams, but knew it wasn’t good.

“Even if you messed up, you helped Ji find a way to get here,” the Moon went on. “So I’m standing in for Felygn.”

I’m definitely in trouble. “He couldn’t make it?”

“He has no presence in this world. And yes, you’re very much in trouble. Look at your hand.”

Dallion did so. Initially, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it: all five fingers were there, there were no apparent wounds or weird sensations. Suddenly, he noticed that areas of his skin had turned orange. At this point, it wasn’t much—just a few spots on the tips of his thumb and index finger. However, even he knew that they weren’t supposed to be there.

“The mage was partially right. This world isn’t meant for humans. You came here uninvited, so it’s treating you as an irritant.”

An irritant? Dallion thought.

“A speck of dust in the eye of creation, if you want to be melodramatic. And as all irritants, there are only two courses of action: spit them ouch or encapsulate them with enough layers so they aren’t a bother anymore.”

“Like a pearl.”

The Moon nodded.

“Exactly like a pearl. You haven’t been here long, so the layers aren’t taking an effect still, but slowly they will. Your skin will become orange, then harden, then you and the mage will feel like you’ve been incased in amber.”

The notion made Dallion shiver. That didn’t sound appealing in the least.

“You won’t die, of course. Not at first. As an awakened otherworlder you’ll remain surrounded by layers or reality. You won’t be able to see, or move, or breathe. You’ll feel first and hunger, but they won’t kill you. Each day you’ll grow older, as you normally would have, and as you do, your presence will be erased from the memories of everyone in the world. Ji will be the only exception. Knowing her, she’ll probably come talk to you every day, or even take you with her as she travels throughout her world. I guess you could call yourself lucky.”

“Lucky? I don’t see that as being lucky.”

“The mage won’t have anyone. Since she pissed me off, I won’t allow her to talk to others, even in dreams.”

Dallion swallowed. The Moons were definitely not beings one had to mess with. If he found a way back, the first thing he would do was start seeking out the dragonlet for Felygn.

“That will continue for decades, possibly a century, after which you’ll die and leave nothing but a shell behind.”

One thing was for sure. Dararr didn’t have Felygn’s bedside manner. The Green Moon was vague in his explanations, but never so dark.

“Is there a way back?” Dallion asked.

“That’s not something I can say. There wasn’t supposed to be a way in, but you’re good at finding loopholes, it seems. I always thought the mages would be the annoying ones, but you proved me wrong. Annoyance is not exclusive to spellcasters.” She disappeared again, reappearing behind him, on the other side of the cloud. “I’m only here to give you the warning.”

“That the world is going to kill me?” Dallion had hoped for a bit more than that.

“You’re gotten far too used to dream conversations.” The Moon tilted her head to the side slightly. “That’s interesting.” She disappeared and reappeared next to him. “However, you’re wrong, like the mage was. The world isn’t trying to kill you, just to make you less irritable. The more you interact with it, the more it’ll affect you. Good luck.”

“That’s all?”

“Keep an eye out for loopholes. While you can’t use some aspects of your awakened abilities, you can use others.”

“Doesthat mean there’s a way of leveling up while I’m here?”

“That would be telling.” The Moon said with a blank expression.

“Wait! How do I—"

Dallion found himself back in the room given to him by Jiroh’s family.

“Nightmare?” Katka asked from the other side of the room. According to their arrangement, they had split the room into two zones with the mage keeping to hers. Looking at her instinctively made Dallion uneasy. It wasn’t that he feared she would kill him, but rather her way of life. Even since arriving to this world, the woman hadn’t bathed or taken her clothes off once. From what Jiroh had shared, she had refused to do so, even after Jiroh had taken her alone to a pond with considerable privacy.

“Something like that,” Dallion replied.

“Get back to sleep. You must be in shape for tomorrow.”

Right, Dallion thought. I must be in shape.

While Jiroh’s role was to find the people involved, Dallion’s was to be the hook, for which he was going to use his music skills. Kafka was going to come into play later. There were a lot of things that could go wrong, not to mention that he still didn’t trust the mage. However, there were no better alternatives.

Closing his eyes, Dallion attempted to go back to sleep. The attempt ended in utter failure. All that he managed was to remain still for two hours, until the sun mercifully brought the start of the day.

Like any other day, Dallion rinsed his face and hands with the water Jiroh bought. As he was washing his hands he noticed a small patch of orange skin appear. His initial reaction was to try to wash it off, but no amount of rubbing seemed to do any good.

So, it’s really happening, he thought. The world was trying to isolate itself from him, and it wasn't going to stop until it succeeded or he was gone. Quickly, Dallion put the gauntlet on. He didn’t want anyone to see the change, least of all Katka.

“You were right,” Jiroh appeared in the room without even knocking. “My mother has been hiding offers from me. A few were from the Patrician’s office.”

“Oh?” The mage sounded intrigued. “What’s the position?”

“Assistant speaker of the army core. It’s not as important as it sounds.”

“Have they made a similar offer to you before?” Katka asked.

Jiroh shook her head.

“Then it’s important. It’s just a pretense to get you there and—"

“You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?” The fury’s tone was calm, but it quickly made the mage recoil back in fear. “I know exactly what it means. I also know that’s not where we’re headed.”

“Isn’t the government the place to go?” Dallion asked.

“No. It’s powerful alright, but only in one city. There are hundreds of cloud cities in the skies, each with their own Patrician. The place we’re headed to is the city’s grand library.”

As it turned out, the library wasn’t anything like Dallion had imagined it. For one thing it wasn’t a single organization, but an “alliance” that spread throughout nearly all clouds. For another thing, they didn’t provide only books, but entertainment—a three-dimensional equivalent of television created out of ever-changing cloud matter to be precise—as well. Jiroh’s family had been subscribed to one, when she was younger, but that was before the family purse had shrunk, forcing them to do away with certain luxuries.

The city that controlled the region of sky above Jiroh’s house was called Thundervein. Arguably, it was one of the bigger cloud cities, though all tended to make that claim. Reaching it was a few hours’ flight, mostly because the fury had to make sure that nothing disturbed the hooded robes of her companions.

“Did you get the ingot?” Dallion asked a few minutes after they left.

“Here.” Jiroh used a few air currents to float it in front of him. It was crude and uneven, as if someone had stuck together various pieces of different colored clay in an attempt to make a brick. The important thing was that it was made of metal. “It’s enough to buy my own place on the cloud outskirts.”

It’ll do, Dallion thought. People were more interested in the sample than the product.

“When we get there, stay away from all creatures and statues.”

“Why statues?” the mage asked.

“There are no statues,” Jiroh replied, annoyed. “If anything attacks, I won’t be able to stop it like I do back home.”

“You mean the city is full of cats?”

“Not only cats.”

After a while, Dallion and Katka saw exactly what the fury had in mind. The cloud city was nothing like the citadel they had come from. Comparing the two was like comparing a palace to a sand castle. Thundervein was many times larger than any cloud fort Dallion could imagine. Buildings rose up at regular intervals, separated by roads and ponds of water. Vertical movement was absolutely taken for granted. As far as one looked, there were no concepts as a plain wall. Shops, cafes, and restaurants were stuck to the sides of buildings just as they were on the ground. But the most impressive thing of all was the sheer number of clouds and furies. It was like looking at a snow globe after it was shaken.

Cloud creatures, Dallion thought. Looking at the hundreds of clouds floating about in addition to the furies. To the untrained eye they appeared identical to everything else made of cloud matter, but Dallion was able to feel them.

Discreetly, he glanced at the mage. This was a world that had retained its creatures, and if Katka had been willing to destroy an entire citadel in order to obtain some power, there always was the possibility she might try something similar here as well.

“See the pyramid?” Jiroh asked. “That’s where we’re headed.”

Showtime, Dallion thought.