The hidden workshop deep within the lower currents hummed with furtive activity. What had once been an abandoned storage cavern beneath Thaddeus's official shop had transformed into something revolutionary: a secret facility for producing mechanical flight devices, concealed from the watchful eyes of altitude authorities.

  Azaril moved quietly among the workers, his footsteps muffled by the constant sound of tools against lightweight materials. After their discovery of the truth about current control, he and Silvius had returned to the lower levels with renewed purpose and a need for increased caution. Knowledge of the controlled current system made their work both more vital and more dangerous.

  "The second joint still binds when fully extended," Highwind Thaddeus muttered, hunched over a workbench littered with tools, sketches, and half-assembled wing components. His hands moved with remarkable precision for their size, adjusting a delicate tension mechanism. "But we're getting closer. This new cloudwood-silk composite is half the weight of the previous design."

  Silvius examined the prototype with a critical eye. "The lightness will help, especially for extended flight. But we need to ensure the frame can withstand unexpected current shifts."

  "We've reinforced the primary supports," said a young woman named Currentcraft, one of the growing team of assistants they'd carefully recruited. "The material may be lighter, but the structural integrity has actually improved."

  Azaril nodded approvingly. "How many complete sets can we produce with the materials we have?"

  Thaddeus exchanged gnces with the supply coordinator, a thin man who had once been a current mapper before an injury damaged his left wing. "Fifteen complete sets, maybe twenty if we salvage parts from the prototypes. Getting more materials without attracting attention grows more difficult each week."

  "The upper level patrols have increased," Silvius observed. "Our success in the Ascension Trials created more scrutiny than opportunity."

  "Then we'll need to be more creative," Azaril said. "Perhaps it's time to approach Zephara's troupe with our proposal."

  The dance troupe had been carefully selected as potential allies. As artists, they already pushed the boundaries of acceptable behavior, and Zephara herself had shown sympathy to their cause from the beginning. More importantly, their performances regurly crossed between altitude levels, giving them freedom of movement that others cked.

  That evening, after the regur current patrols had passed, Zephara arrived at the hidden workshop with her artistic director, Visionflow. A slender isnder with unusually patterned wings, Visionflow had a reputation for avant-garde performances that sometimes skirted the edge of altitude propriety.

  "So these are the famous wings," Zephara said, running her fingers along the delicate frame of the test prototype. "I've heard whispers, but seeing them is something else entirely."

  "They're still rudimentary compared to what we envision," Thaddeus cautioned. "Limited by materials and the need for secrecy."

  Visionflow circled the workbench, his professional eye assessing the devices from every angle. "But functional? They truly allow non-flyers to ascend?"

  "Within limits," Azaril expined. "They require training and can't match natural flight for extended periods. But they provide mobility previously impossible for those without wings or with limited flight ability."

  "And you want us to... what exactly?" Zephara asked, though her eyes suggested she already understood.

  "Incorporate them into your performances," Silvius said. "Not explicitly as revolutionary devices, but as artistic elements. Beauty before function."

  Visionflow's eyes lit with creative possibility. "A dance of ascension... performers rising who traditionally remain grounded... a visual poetry of transcending limitations."

  "While also normalizing the sight of mechanical assistance," Azaril added. "Making it an accepted part of public consciousness before it's recognized as a threat to the established order."

  Zephara exchanged gnces with her artistic director. "It's risky. If the authorities realize what we're doing..."

  "Art has always pushed boundaries," Visionflow said, a smile spreading across his face. "And what is more fundamental to our realm than the boundary between those who can soar and those who cannot?"

  Two weeks ter, Azaril sat among the audience for the premiere of "Currents of Change," Zephara's troupe's new performance. The public space on the edge of the middle currents was packed with viewers, including several officials from higher altitudes who occasionally patronized the arts.

  The performance began traditionally enough—natural flyers demonstrating their grace through the carefully choreographed movements that had made Zephara's troupe famous. Then came the transition, as shadowy figures emerged from below the main performance space.

  At first, the mechanical wings were disguised as eborate costumes, their functional nature concealed by decorative elements. But as the dance progressed, their true purpose became clear, as performers previously confined to the ground level began to rise, joining the natural flyers in a breathtaking aerial ballet.

  "Extraordinary," murmured an attendee nearby. "How are they achieving that effect?"

  "Some new performance technique," another responded. "Quite beautiful, really."

  Azaril caught Silvius's eye across the crowded space. This was exactly what they had hoped for—the devices viewed first as objects of beauty and wonder rather than challenges to the established order.

  After the performance, a small group gathered in Zephara's private preparation area. The first public demonstration had gone better than they had dared hope.

  "Did you see their faces?" one of the groundbound performers excimed, still flushed with the exhiration of flight. "They didn't know whether to appud or report us to the altitude authorities!"

  "They chose to appud," Zephara said with satisfaction. "Art opens minds in ways direct confrontation never could."

  "We already have requests for three more performances," Visionflow added, "including one at a higher altitude venue than we've ever been invited to before."

  Thaddeus nodded thoughtfully. "And while everyone's watching the performances, no one's paying attention to the workshop producing more wings, or the training sessions for non-performers."

  Azaril pced a hand on the shoulder of a young woman who had just removed her mechanical wings—one of the first non-performers to be fitted with a set. "How did they feel during extended use?"

  "Like freedom," she said simply, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I've lived my entire life watching others rise while I remained below. Today I followed a current to the market level without begging for assistance or paying for a lift. I bought fruits from the middle altitude growers directly, instead of accepting the bruised leftovers that fall to our level."

  Her testimony hit Azaril harder than he had expected. After centuries moving between realms, it was easy to forget how seemingly small freedoms could transform a life. The woman's experience reminded him of his own journey—learning that different forms of strength could overcome seemingly immutable limitations.

  As the celebration continued around them, Silvius moved to Azaril's side. "They'll notice eventually," he said quietly. "Beauty may disguise function temporarily, but the authorities will recognize the threat once enough people gain mobility."

  "By then it will be too te," Azaril replied. "Once people have experienced freedom of movement, they won't easily surrender it. And the knowledge we've gained about their current control system gives us leverage they don't expect."

  "A clever approach," Silvius acknowledged. "Using art to change perception before confronting policy."

  "I've learned that direct confrontation rarely succeeds against entrenched power," Azaril said. "Sometimes the most effective revolution begins not with a decration of war, but with a dance."

  In the weeks that followed, the workshop production increased cautiously. Each new set of wings was carefully allocated—some to performers who continued to normalize their appearance through art, others to selected individuals from the lower levels who would use them responsibly and train others.

  The demand quickly outpaced their ability to produce. They maintained rigorous secrecy around the manufacturing process while allowing the performance aspect to gain public attention. It was a delicate bance—visibility for the concept, secrecy for the means of production.

  "We've received a request from a middle-current family with a child born with underdeveloped wings," Thaddeus reported during one of their pnning sessions. "They saw the performance and want to know if our 'artistic devices' might help their daughter."

  "That's exactly the type of case we should prioritize," Azaril said. "Helping a child who would otherwise be limited by physical circumstance is something even traditional elements might support."

  "A foot in the door," Silvius observed. "Acceptable assistance for those with natural limitations, which ter extends to anyone who wishes to rise."

  Zephara, who had joined their inner circle of pnners, nodded enthusiastically. "My next performance piece already incorporates this narrative—the story of a child unable to follow family members to higher levels, then granted mobility through ingenuity and compassion."

  "Art imitating life, which will then inspire more life changes," Visionflow added. "The perfect cycle of influence."

  As Azaril looked around at their growing team of colborators—artisans, performers, engineers, and everyday people seeking change—he felt a familiar sense of purpose. Each realm had taught him different lessons about power and resistance. Here in the Floating Isles, they were writing a new chapter in that education—one where beauty and function combined to overcome limitations that had once seemed as immutable as the air currents themselves.

  "Wings for all," he said softly. "Not as a challenge to those born with them, but as an expansion of what's possible for everyone."