The hum of the engines vibrated through the floor beneath Iris Ardent's feet as she stood on the observation deck of *The Aegis*, the flagship of the Techie forces. The massive, armored airship glided silently over the vast wasteland below, its metal shell reflecting the dull, cloudy skies of Aer. Through the reinforced glass windows, she could see the jagged remains of what had once been a verdant forest, now reduced to blackened stumps and choking dust. The destruction was necessary, she reminded herself. It was the price of progress—the inevitable triumph of technology over magic.  

Still, the barren landscape unsettled her. There was a hollow quiet that lingered in the spaces where trees and rivers once thrived. She turned away from the view and adjusted the metal plating on her arm, feeling the familiar weight of her exosuit shift with her movement. Every piece of armor she wore was a testament to her belief in the future, forged from the hands of her people, the Techies. They had come so far, and she, as a commander, carried the heavy mantle of leadership. Beneath her plated exterior, she was painfully aware of her fragility. The armor was more than physical—it was the shield she wore against doubt, against the whispers that sometimes crept into her mind, wondering if the war against magic had gone too far.

“Iris.”

The voice of Marshal Vance Pierce, her superior and mentor, snapped her out of her thoughts. She straightened her posture as he approached, the heavy steps of his own mechanized suit clanking in sync with the faint hum of machinery embedded into the walls. His suit was larger, more imposing than hers, with gears and joints that whirred with every move. His face, scarred and lined with years of battle, bore the mark of a man who had seen too much, and yet not enough to turn back.

“Marshal.” She inclined her head respectfully, though the gesture was stiff in her bulky armor. 

“We’re approaching the Deadwoods,” Vance said, his eyes scanning the barren land below. “We’ve detected a Fey presence near Rachna.”

Iris flinched at the mention of the ancient site. The Fey revered it as sacred—a place where their twisted myths claimed life had once sprung from the dark waters. To the Techies, Rachna was a strategic location, a focal point of magical energies they sought to control—or destroy. The Mages and Fey had protected it fiercely, and many a Techie squad had been lost trying to breach its defenses.  

“Is it the Fey or the Mages?” she asked, her hand reflexively gripping the hilt of the plasma rifle slung over her shoulder. The weapon was an extension of her, like the armor she wore—a tool for survival.

“We’ve had reports of Fey activity, but no sign of the Mages yet,” Vance replied. “That might change. We can’t afford to let them secure the Well. Our future depends on this.”

Iris nodded. “The team is ready. We’ll take Rachna and cut off their access to the Life Tree’s energy.”

Vance’s hard gaze softened, if only a fraction. “You’ve done well, Iris. Don’t forget that. This war… it’s bigger than any one of us. We’re fighting for a world where we don’t have to rely on their magic. A world where our future is built on logic, science, and steel.”

Her chest tightened at his words. She had trained her whole life for this moment, risen through the ranks of the Techies to stand here as a commander, but the weight of it all pressed down on her like the heavy metal plates of her armor. She had been taught that magic was an abomination, a force that corrupted and enslaved, but lately, she had begun to wonder if the destruction they wrought in its name was worth the price.

“We won’t fail,” she said, her voice more certain than she felt.

Vance gave her a firm nod before turning to leave. “Good. We move out in ten.”

As the Marshal’s footsteps faded, Iris allowed herself a moment to breathe. She removed her helmet, feeling the cool air against her skin. Her dark hair, damp with sweat, clung to her forehead. In the reflection of the glass, she caught a glimpse of her face—tired, lined with worry—and for a moment, she wasn’t the ironclad commander she pretended to be. She was just Iris, a woman caught in the middle of a war she wasn’t sure she believed in anymore.