The success of Zephara's performances had been a calcuted risk. By presenting mechanical wings as artistic devices rather than practical transportation, they had gained public visibility while maintaining pusible deniability. For several weeks, the strategy had worked perfectly—until it didn't.

  Azaril arrived at the troupe's rehearsal space to find it eerily empty, performance equipment scattered as if abandoned in haste. Only Zephara remained, methodically sorting through costumes with tense, efficient movements.

  "What happened?" he asked, though the scene told most of the story.

  "Official notification from the Altitude Council," Zephara replied without looking up. "All 'mechanical enhancement devices' are now officially cssified as prohibited altitude-transgression technology rather than artistic implements." She handed him a formal scroll bearing the seal of the High Sphere authorities.

  Azaril scanned the document, noting the precisely worded legal nguage that closed the artistic loophole they had been exploiting. More concerning was the list of penalties for viotions—confiscation of all materials, substantial fines, and for repeated offenses, potential banishment to ground level.

  "This bears Lord Stratos's personal seal," Silvius observed, studying the document over Azaril's shoulder. "The High Sphere Purists are taking direct action now."

  "Where is everyone?" Azaril asked, gesturing to the empty space.

  "Scattered," Zephara said, finally meeting his eyes. "Some to their homes, others to safe locations. Visionflow was detained for questioning this morning. They released him with a warning, but..." She left the implications unspoken.

  From the shadows of a storage alcove, a figure emerged—a slender isnder with distinctive patterned wings that had been partially bound against her back. "They're searching all known associates," said Secretflow, who had previously worked as a current communicator before joining their underground network. "The enforcement patrols are using the new ordinance to conduct sweeps of lower and middle current residences."

  "How thorough are the searches?" Silvius asked.

  "Thorough enough," Secretflow replied grimly. "They've found three of our hidden caches already. The workshop has been temporarily abandoned."

  The situation was deteriorating faster than Azaril had anticipated. After centuries of working for change across realms, he recognized the pattern—initial tolerance giving way to organized suppression once authorities fully recognized the threat to established order.

  "We need to move the remaining devices and materials immediately," he said.

  "Already in progress," Zephara assured him. "Thaddeus is coordinating from a backup location. But that's not our biggest concern." She hesitated, exchanging gnces with Secretflow. "The enforcement officers have a list of known users—including the child with underdeveloped wings whose family sought our help."

  This was the cruelest aspect of the crackdown. The authorities were targeting not just the creators of mechanical wings but those who needed them most—the physically disadvantaged who had experienced mobility for the first time.

  "How did they obtain these names?" Azaril asked.

  "Traditionflight," Secretflow said bitterly. "After withdrawing his son from the knowledge circle, he's become an informant for the Altitude Council, identifying families who've shown interest in 'unauthorized mobility enhancement.'"

  A commotion outside interrupted their conversation. Through the thin fabric walls of the rehearsal space, they could see the distinctive uniforms of altitude enforcement officers approaching, led by a stern-faced official whose insignia identified him as Lawcurrent.

  "Go," Zephara whispered urgently. "They're primarily focused on isnders. As visitors, you might avoid the worst penalties, but you can't help anyone if you're detained."

  "We're not leaving you to face them alone," Azaril insisted.

  "I'm not facing them at all," Zephara replied with a fsh of her old spirit. "There are pathways beneath this isnd that don't appear on official maps." She lifted a section of flooring to reveal a narrow passage. "Secretflow will guide you to the meeting point. I'll join you after leading our visitors on a lengthy search of very empty spaces."

  There was no time to argue. With a final concerned look, Azaril and Silvius followed Secretflow into the hidden passage, carefully repcing the floor panel behind them.

  The network of tunnels and concealed chambers beneath the inhabited levels of the Floating Isles was a revetion. Created naturally by wind erosion and expanded by generations of lower-level residents, these spaces provided routes between isnds that avoided official monitoring.

  "The authorities know these exist," Secretflow expined as they navigated a particurly narrow passage, "but they consider them too dangerous for regur use. What they don't realize is that those of us with limited or no flight ability have been mapping and maintaining these routes for generations."

  The secret pathways brought them to a rge chamber deep within a middle-current isnd, where Thaddeus and several others had established a temporary operation center. The inventor was directing the reorganization of salvaged materials with remarkable efficiency given the circumstances.

  "Approximately sixty percent of our supplies and completed devices have been secured," he reported when they arrived. "The rest were either confiscated or abandoned in inaccessible locations."

  "And our people?" Azaril asked.

  "Three detained and released with warnings. One still being held—Currentcraft was caught with design schematics." Thaddeus looked grim. "No word on how long they'll keep her."

  Azaril absorbed the information with growing concern. The organized response from high altitude authorities indicated how seriously they viewed the threat of mechanical flight. What had begun as artistic performances had evolved into a direct challenge to the altitude-based social structure—and the system was defending itself.

  Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of more network members, including a representative from one of the knowledge circles Azaril had visited. The newcomers brought distressing news: enforcement officers were now monitoring the wind wisdom gatherings that had previously operated in a gray area of official tolerance.

  "They're not shutting them down directly," the knowledge circle representative expined, "but their presence intimidates families from attending. Contentcheck has expanded his inspection team threefold."

  By the time Zephara arrived several hours ter, having successfully misdirected the enforcement officers, the scope of the crackdown was becoming clear. This was no longer about specific devices or performances—it was a comprehensive effort to suppress anything that might undermine altitude-based social stratification.

  "We anticipated resistance," Silvius observed quietly, "but not this level of coordination."

  "It's Lord Stratos," Zephara expined. "After your success in the Ascension Trials and the popurity of our performances, he convened the High Sphere Council. According to my sources, he presented evidence that our 'artistic experiments' were actually part of a systematic attempt to undermine natural altitude order."

  "How much do they know about the current control system?" Azaril asked.

  "Nothing specific," Zephara replied. "But they don't need to know we've discovered their secret to recognize the threat mechanical mobility poses to their power."

  The gathering continued te into the night as they assessed their options. Some argued for temporarily suspending activities until the enforcement pressure eased. Others insisted that retreating now would surrender all their hard-won progress.

  "The children who've experienced flight through our devices," one passionate supporter argued, "should we tell them to forget what freedom feels like?"

  "Better temporary disappointment than permanent banishment to ground level," countered a more cautious voice.

  Throughout the debate, Azaril listened more than he spoke. Each realm had taught him different lessons about resistance and change. The Floating Isles presented unique challenges—the physical reality of altitude created natural divisions that reinforced social stratification, while the limited ndmass made concealment more difficult than in expansive territories like the Human Empire.

  When he finally spoke, the chamber quieted to hear his perspective.

  "In each society I've encountered, those with power respond to challenges by tightening control," he said. "This crackdown isn't a sign of failure but evidence that our efforts have been effective enough to threaten the established order."

  "Small comfort to those detained or under surveilnce," someone muttered.

  "True," Azaril acknowledged. "Which is why our approach must adapt. Direct confrontation against organized enforcement will lead to unnecessary suffering. Instead, we need to become less visible while remaining equally active."

  He outlined a modified strategy that divided their network into smaller, semi-independent cells with minimal knowledge of other groups' activities. The mechanical wing production would be dispersed across multiple locations rather than centralized in Thaddeus's workshop. Knowledge circles would appear to comply with monitoring while developing subtle methods to continue sharing critical information.

  "Most importantly," he concluded, "we need to shift from visibility to infiltration. Instead of public performances that draw attention, we focus on pcing our people and ideas within existing structures."

  A murmur of consideration ran through the gathering. It was Secretflow who voiced what many were thinking: "This sounds like going backward, hiding our work instead of celebrating it."

  "It's not retreat," Silvius expined, supporting Azaril's strategy. "It's about becoming so integrated within the system that we can't be easily extracted from it. When mechanical flight was only in public performances, it could be banned with a single ordinance. But if it becomes essential to daily life in ways that aren't immediately obvious..."

  "They can't ban what they can't separately identify," Thaddeus finished, nodding slowly as he grasped the approach.

  The revised strategy was not unanimously embraced, but most recognized its necessity. As the meeting concluded, they divided responsibilities and established new communication protocols that would allow their network to continue functioning despite increased surveilnce.

  Zephara pulled Azaril aside as the gathering dispersed. "The enforcement officers made it very clear that my troupe is finished," she said, her voice steady despite the evident pain behind her words. "Decades of work, ended with a single decree."

  "Only in its current form," Azaril replied gently. "Your artistry opened minds to possibilities that can't be easily closed again."

  "And now?" she asked. "What role can dancers py in an underground resistance?"

  "The most vital one," he said. "You've already proven that beauty can make revolution accessible in ways that direct confrontation cannot. Now you'll need to find ways to continue that work within the constraints we face."

  Zephara considered this, the creative spark that defined her gradually returning to her eyes. "Smaller performances in private settings," she mused. "Traditional dances with subtle incorporations of groundbound movements... Stories told through established forms but carrying new meanings..."

  "Exactly," Azaril encouraged. "Art has always found ways to speak truth even under the most restrictive conditions."

  As they prepared to leave through different exits—another security precaution—Silvius drew Azaril's attention to a small group of children huddled in a corner of the chamber. They were using drift ribbons like those from the knowledge circles, practicing current-reading techniques even in this underground space.

  "They continue learning despite everything," Silvius observed quietly.

  "Because once you've seen the currents, you can't unsee them," Azaril replied. "That's what Lord Stratos and the High Sphere Purists don't understand. They can restrict devices and monitor gatherings, but the knowledge itself has already begun to flow through their society."

  The journey back to their temporary quarters required circuitous routes and careful timing to avoid enforcement patrols. The Floating Isles had transformed overnight from a realm of cautious progress to one of active suppression. Yet Azaril found himself not discouraged but grimly determined.

  He had witnessed this pattern across millennia and multiple kingdoms—the moment when those in power recognized the genuine threat of change and responded with all the force they could muster. It was always the most dangerous phase, but also a sign that transformation had progressed beyond the point of easy containment.

  "Different kinds of resistance for different circumstances," Silvius remarked as they finally reached safety, echoing Azaril's thoughts.

  "Yes," Azaril agreed. "And in the Floating Isles, our resistance must be like air itself—invisible, essential, and impossible to fully control no matter how hard they try."