Maeryn opened her eyes, looking up at the stone ceiling of her bedroom. The familiar yellow-green glow of glow-moss cast a soft, if slightly eerie, light on the room. Glow-moss was a cheap, biological, and most importantly mana-free source of illumination - a necessity ever since the dire Council of Elders meeting eight years ago.

  Since that fateful day, Geova had undergone many changes to stave off Critical Mana Depletion. Mana crystals, once ubiquitous in every home, were now rare. Gone were the days where people would casually channel a bit of mana on the street to conjure some fire and light to entertain children. Every year, more and more mana restrictions were set in place, and new mana-free technologies and mana-conservation techniques came out multiple times per year. But despite all efforts, the mana depletion had accelerated.

  The rate of mana depletion had sped up; according to original estimates, they should have had at least another seven years, but the most recent findings indicated that they had less than three years remaining.

  Maeryn personally thought they were being generous, and believed that they had a year, maybe a year and a half. Some of that belief, she based on the fact that the estimates had consistently been wrong. She’d once done the math on how often the Elders had revised the estimated day of Critical Mana Depletion, which supported her thoughts. But even if she hadn’t worked through those calculations… Maeryn could feel it. In her heart, in her bones, in her very skin, she knew it.

  Time was running out.

  Which was why she and her friends had concocted a plan. A desperate one, to be sure, but it was a damn sight more than what the Elders had come up with, that was for sure. Maeryn would know - she’d been spying on them in every single meeting she could for the last eight years, listening to every angry rant, every feverish attempt, every heated argument, every scrap of knowledge that had been shared.

  Maeryn’s eyes narrowed as she took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Today was the day. The plan was risky - the Elders would no doubt call it foolhardy if they learned of it - but Maeryn couldn’t just do nothing. There wasn’t time anymore to wait and see if the latest of their schemes had any success.

  Maeryn took another steadying breath, then swung her legs out and stood up. “Time to go,” she murmured to no one in particular. Her voice was soft, but resolute, unconsciously reflecting the mixed feelings she had about what she was about to do.

  She threw on her favorite outfit - cargo pants and a dusty gray tank top that had been black once upon a time - and walked into the only other room of her small home, a combination living room and kitchen. Maeryn made a beeline for a contraption of brass and copper pipes in the corner: a stove that she’d built from scratch years ago.

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  Twisting the valve, Maeryn smiled softly to herself as she heard the hiss of steam being released, and nodded in satisfaction as the thin metal plating lining the top of the stove began to glow a very light red. Good, it was working properly today, and didn’t seem to need any maintenance. She placed a skillet and her favorite kettle on top of the heated section of metal and turned away.

  Maeryn strode purposely over to her cabinet, extracting a basket woven from reeds that grew in a nearby underground lake. Removing the cloth that covered the top, she carefully inspected the two large eggs. They were a common staple: eggs from Luminwing Chickens, a breed of fowl that had been bred by Geovans to lay three times as many eggs as the chickens that resided on the surface. The breed had earned their name from the way their wings tended to give the same glow as glow-moss, which was the biggest part of their diet.

  The eggs themselves seemed almost iridescent as well, but Maeryn paid it no mind as she carelessly took both eggs and cracked them open into a mixing bowl. Sprinkling in a few herbs from the underground gardens - one of the Elders’ projects to help reduce the impact of losing the surface farms, though they still hadn’t found any success with most vegetables or any fruits at all. Setting the bowl on the countertop, she extracted a mechanical handheld mixer.

  The runes on the mixer glowed faintly as she held it, a magic circuit not quite closed. She thumbed the switch into position, and the rune on the switch completed the circuit, activating the mixe. The blades whirred to life, blending the ingredients of Maeryn’s breakfast in a matter of seconds.

  Pouring the omelet mixture into the heated skillet, she watched it sizzle and solidify, making sure nothing burned. As she cooked, the soft hum of the stove and the warm glow of gloss-moss filled the room, a comforting blend of steampunk ingenuity and the subtle magic that still permeated Geovan life.

  With the omelet ready, Maeryn plated it alongside a small handful of fresh underground greens. She poured herself a cup of herbal tea from a kettle she’d set to boil earlier, the steam curling in the air with a fragrant aroma.

  Sitting down at her small wooden table, Maeryn took a moment to appreciate the simple but nostalgic meal. It was one of the first recipes that her mother had taught her how to make, growing up. It would probably be the last true homecooked Geovan meal she’d be able to have for a long time, too.

  For a moment, Maeryn’s spirit and determination faltered. Part of her didn’t want to go. Maybe she’d missed something in her spying on the Elders. Maybe one of their latest plans would bear fruit. Maybe everything she planned to do would be rendered absolutely pointless. Depths and damnation, what if she somehow made things worse?

  Maeryn closed her eyes and breathed, trying to calm herself. “Too late for second thoughts, Rin,” she chided herself. “Worst case, it’s just one more drill in the deep. Focus, girl.” She slapped her cheeks and shook her head, clearing it, before digging into her breakfast.