All things are made up of matter, in four states: solid, liquid, gas, and plasma. The difference between the first three is how densely their particles hold together. The fourth has to do with heat. We don't create matter. We only change its form.

-From Acacia's Journal, Month of Dag, Year 2498

Her work at the textile mill was getting more bearable. The red stone building in the far southwest corner of the city didn't stick out against the similarly bland ones. Each building was smooth faced and had rounded edges, the facade being as hard as steel having been made by Densing. Most were made in the same way, the differences lying in the quality of materials, her business being made of abundant red clay.

Having worked there since her father died paid for her meager living, just to be able to afford the apartment room she rented. Her father's job had become available, so she took it. Working at a place packed with non-densers would make her seem less conspicuous, she supposed. This job in the mill involved making rope and today had a delivery to make of it. Her partner in this was Deirdan, a portly man with dark wisps for a mustache, and equally as much hair on his head.

"You can't be afraid to get your hands rough," he said. "The rougher the hands, the smoother the work. Take those gloves off, kid." She did as she was told. She did have calluses, but they seemed to rub off as easily as she got them. This included the raw spots on her feet, but running on grass helped with the abrasion. She didn't feel like making a fuss over having to take off the gloves. 

They continued the rope from the day before, making the finishing braids out of the fibers produced elsewhere in the mill. Tedious work, this was. To make things by hand seemed so inconvenient, as Densing allowed some to make things out of thin air, like the Wafts. When the ability started getting spread around in the past several hundred years, it almost swallowed the economy whole. But as the solids they made could only be the simplest of tools, which could not bend or twist, people with specialized jobs and complex crafting such as hers continued to find work. The work plodded along, but they finally finished their product, albeit with several abrasions that she had to patch on her dominant hand. With how well trained she was, the spots would stop hurting and reform within the day.

"Time for us to meet the buyer. Let's hope they don't think that delivery is cheap," the grimy man grinned. 

They went out into the city, first crossing through a square which connected them to the main stairway. There were multiple tiers to the slanted city on which set the buildings, and the squares and stairway passed through each. Most buildings along the main stairwell had bright paint, pink, teal, and lavender mixed in among the white stone. Fences jutted out a short distance from each, protecting small gardens of tomatoes and other fruits. The city was filled with leisure. But Gelland, of course, carried the heavy burden of rope, while all Deirdan had to carry was a clipboard.

Getting to the docks, Gelland looked over the bay, again marveling at the scenery crafted by the lowering sun and the white, sunlit ring around Exagora. The docks being protected by a natural barrier would protect the shore and ships from waves. But the variety and size of the ships was great, since the other ports on the continent were apprehensive about their trade. Because of the Tecton War, this city had flourished. 

Going right would lead her to the shipyard. She went straight, walking along the ship they were to work on. The length of the merchant ship was double that of one of its three masts, with a hull painted mint with black stripes. Most hulls were being made with solid air or liquid, making them sturdy and buoyant. Wooden ships were becoming outdated since the densed material wouldn't rust or warp like regular metal or wood.

Past the shipyard was the southern ocean. The waves were high today, and she wondered if Cross was out there that day. He had liked to surf, and had been decent at it. But since his seizures were getting more frequent, he looked towards the waters with not a little trepidation. 

Gelland got straight to her work while Deirdan did his- swindling people out of their money. She tied off the rope onto a piling, and with effort, hoisted the end of it up onto the deck. She untied instead of cutting the used, damp rope for the mill to utilize later, and stored it in a chip. Then she tied the other end onto the cleat, a small metal post on the side of the ship. She could've stored the new rope in a chip, she knew, but she didn't want to defy trade restrictions, since one party could easily re-store the item after it'd been released- even from a short distance. 

The men on the ship stopped their work. The scrubbing of the wooden deck ceased, and all that was heard was the lapping of the water. They smiled and whistled at her. Some even had all of their teeth. These were genuine smiles. Not everyone could spot a Hal. She did not smile back, lest she gave herself away, but nodded her head towards the men, allowing herself to enjoy some of the misdirected attention. She headed down the piece of metal, called the gangway, towards her partner. The man Deirdan was haggling with had a look of exasperation, and her partner came to her, whispering, "Go back to the mill, I think I can get more heap out of this deal." She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't be the one doing the bartering. 

Picking her way past the docks and their many workers, she headed back up the long staircase. The ram horns sounded. The city now being overshadowed by the looming storm clouds headed South, she felt an immediate gloom it seemed to have brought with it. But it was about to get darker, with Kahton about to eclipse. She and everyone else put on their sunglasses. Within minutes, the peoples' shadows shifted with the full eclipse.

What should I do, Mom? I can't languish like this forever, tying knots! Stepping up into the very center of Aubury, a large fountain square, she gave a huff and stamped her foot. I won't let them beat me down! 

The cobblestones pulsated and the ground beneath her shook, almost throwing her off balance back towards the stairs. She threw herself forwards to counteract it, stumbling to clutch the rim of the fountain. Then the cobblestones shot away from a small hole on the opposite side of the square from her. Out stuck a spire, as tall as a man, like gleaming bronze. She froze, as did other people passing through. They all recognized it in several moments, and the chaotic shouting began.

Gelland was the second one to step up to the Vein. An older woman was hobbling close when it came up, who had been knocked down by the force of the tremor it caused. Gelland didn't mind the old woman getting there first, this first part was a race, but one that Gelland could win even by being second. As long as she was the second of the five that it would respond to, she was fine. What she found frustrating was waiting for the people. Their heads twitching at the Vein and to her, screams for their heads of their household muddling each other. They looked like animals in cages, wishing to be let loose if only to have a meal. She grumbled in annoyance.

Her father had told her of these, of which there were several terms. Kolen asked her not to follow the Tercet's name, but use Versicolored Veins instead. Few had seen them in person. But those who did were either very lucky or very unfortunate. The timing in one's life was important. These would not respond to those who were not the heads of their household, or those who didn't compete for it seriously. Her father had been the head of her household two years ago when one had shown up outside the walls, he being near enough to it to feel, what he described, a tugging on his soul. Having won it through contest, he and his immediate family gained their Densing ability.

She was now head of her family by default. Yet she felt no tug. She was sure she would at any moment. But if she gained a second, it was said she would not gain more Densing, but power people only murmured about. Long life, incredible strength, and what she needed most, respect and admiration. Becoming a Metamorph would give her a far better reason to surname herself than she had in becoming a Hal. She wished that she could have shared her father's enthusiasm for becoming one. But there was no hope for their lineage- up until this moment.

She trembled like the ground had with excitement, getting a heady sensation from the opportunity. She couldn't help but show her teeth in a small smile. Quickly she caught herself, and hid it as a stocky man sidled up through the enclosing circle of mostly young or worn people. His fine suit and pointed ears were such that Gelland could pick the stockpile owner out of a crowd immediately. He ran the enormous, white domed building that could be seen peaking out over the roofs. He closed his eyes, and held a look of concentration. In a few moments, a layer of inflexible air shimmered in the light over his torso. Lixo Bloom, Deleon's father and gas denser, glared through his sunglasses at her.

"You won't be taking this from me." he said. "Go home to your family, kid. I really don't want to fight you."

It would be fully known to him that she was Nameless. Not having parents didn't make you Nameless. But her combination did. No parents, no surname, no children, and no legacy. This was a shame to any Bidayan. A legacy meant everything. But she did leave an impact, a burn mark on society.

But he was afraid. She instantly changed her outfit to her black jerkin over her chainmail with quick signings in both hands. Its loops clinked faintly against each other. Someone had anonymously given her the chain mail for her birthday last month. This gift giver was clearly not stealthy, as no one gave her gifts, and he should have given it in person. It was a cloth mesh shirt attributed with liquid titanium, which made the silvery metal extremely light, flexible, and durable.  Now she could put it to good use.

Calling her quarterstaff of two pieces, she screwed one into the other, making it over six feet in height. Then flourishing it behind her back, she ended with it outstretched towards the others. With a Vein and its power, they'll be forced to respect me! 

Heart racing, Gelland scanned the crowd, noticing a redheaded, older man she recognized as Cross's father. He looked to his left, and with a contorted expression looked down. She then noticed that Lixo was making eye contact with him, still giving him the same glare that she had received from him. What is his problem? He can challenge just like anyone else. Why won't he join? The final two heads then stepped into the circle. A middle aged man in rags and a man who looked uncomfortable with being around Lixo, eyeing and standing far from him.

The mayor then brushed his way in, a short, older man with weathered skin, standing next to the bronze colored Vein. He swallowed hard, entranced by it for a moment, then turned away. Beckoning with his cane, quieting the crowd, he gave preparations and reminders. Those competing could not step out of bounds, which he indicated by backing the crowd fifteen feet away from the center, which was the Vein.

He also announced the allowance to kill. Others looked at her. She pursed her lips. She in particular was expected to. I am better than they are. I'll show them that I don't have to kill to get what I want. They were also reminded of the dangers of using their Densing. This was a rare instance where it was legal in a city. The contestants had to say, "Leave it how you found it." 

The competitors took their positions, being split into five segments. She occupied the most space, being on the far side from the fountain that two others, including Lixo, had to work around. Her Wind sign was already prepared in the hand not carrying the staff when the signal was given. A pulsing orb appeared in her hand. Throwing the ball, it stirred up dust from the stones underneath and carreened towards the elderly woman's feet.

Simultaneously getting low and dashing towards her, Gelland would not willingly injure the woman. The trembling woman's legs were taken out from underneath her as the ball burst outwards over the stone, lifting her up off the ground. Groaning, the woman seemed to float in the air for a moment. Gelland reached out, grabbing her at the forearm, throwing her into the crowd, still assisted by the wind. She called after the woman as she was caught by surprised onlookers, "Sorry, I had to!" I have to admire her courage, but I'll not be responsible for an old woman getting seriously hurt. Unless I just broke her legs...

All tension released from her body like being doused with cold water. The waiting was over, and the fight for her future was on. The next man down the line held a dagger out towards her. He became distracted by movement behind him, and with a quick jab to the head with her quarterstaff, he fell, clutching his bleeding face. He started tapping at his leg, and the crowd took this as a sign and pulled him out from behind.

She pivoted to face the last two. Lixo stood on the neck of the man in rags, looming over him like the clouds above. He was mouthing something to him that she couldn't make out over the noise, but Lixo had a glassy spear to the man's chin while the man looked like he was trying to back out. "He can't fight us. Let this man go, he'll just get in our way." she said, dismissing her staff, and stood up straight. His smile widened, and her scowl deepened. The other man scurried back into the crowd. "Show me a good time then."

He called a stream of water from the fountain to his hand, then sent it like a cannon at her. By taking it directly from a nearby source, he could control more at a time than if he drew from a chip. In this case, the Water Shot was bigger than she was. It grazed her shoulder, sending her into a short spin, and she heard voices cry out from behind her. Others were hit. Voices called to back up and some did so, but another voice came in saying, "Not one person better move!" It was the mayor. Instead she saw the crowd hunch down.

She recovered quickly, rushing him, but finding her path was blocked by a clear wall. His hand outstretched, it came straight towards her with, what she assumed was, another gas ability. Still attempting to knock her out of the circle. I have to get close! She sprang up, gripped the top of the wall, and cast her signs. Orange and blue rippled and ripped over each other as her fire blocked him in and the lightning cone caught his feet, causing him to stumble and flail slightly. The wall she clung to lurched, and began flinging her towards the crowd behind Lixo. But, kicking off, she descended from the air, end half of her staff now in hand.

He had thrown up another wall, now charred, in front of his hands to shield himself from the blasts, so she kicked at the would-be shield with her full strength, pushing both of them backwards. He toppled against the ground amongst the smoke, the shield clattering like metal. Over him in an instant, she pressed him with a spearhead she had bound and could call upon to a notch in her staff.

"Was that good enough for you, Bloom?" she panted, and had to repress a smile from opening.

The crowd stood stunned by the quick flashes of light and smoke, but many started to whisper softly. She had done it. This would finally give her the respect Dad had always promised they would give her. If only they could be here to see me. 

Lixo spit at her feet, "There's no way power like this should be yours. Your kind abuse what you have, and turn up your chins at the rest of us. Child, I'm someone who makes this city great, you just suck the blood from it like the animal you are!" She shifted uncomfortably, but still kept the point at his neck. All he needed to do was back out.

"Forfeit. I'm not going to kill you." she commanded, growling.

The people piled on with shouts about her people saying, "Blood suckers", "Night-Stalkers", and one said, "It's a shame you weren't born yet for Tear Beach." Another said, "What's the point in you having the Scale? Lixo has a name!"

She held her position with shaking, flustered hands. "Why are you all so blind?" she said aloud. Tears filled her eyes as she took them off Lixo into the mass of people, many of them stepping back a bit from her gaze. A sharp pinch in her shoulder caused her to drop her staff. To her horror, a clear, thin rod being coated and dripping with bright red was sticking through her. It was held by Lixo. It stuck through her right shoulder, above the lining of her collar. She could feel hot blood coming out of her lower back where the lance had exited. She attempted to grab with her left and kicked weakly at him, but she was being held at a distance. Gelland sank to her knees.

The sky was at its darkest now, and could no longer forebear. Rain fell suddenly. It was cold against her trembling body, and her blood pooled beneath them. She was going rigid, sight blurring as she blinked off the droplets on her eyelashes, and she couldn't feel her fingers enough to form signs. The crowd chanted his name. He patted her on the cheek. She wanted to bite him, but could do nothing as Lixo stood up, hefted her over him, and slung her down to the wet cobblestones. Her face slapped first, and darkness seized her.