Chapter 3: Dawn’s Decision

The first true light of morning revealed Thomas’s treasures one by one: airship sketches pinned to crumbling walls with rusted tacks, each vessel imagined in careful detail despite having seen them only from afar. Hannah traced one with gentle fingers – a magnificent craft with twin propellers and delicate filigree along its hull, the kind that sometimes drifted above Vanvale like dreams given form. James had taught their son to capture not just the shapes of things, but their essence – the way light caught on brass fittings, how steam clouds wreathed the engines in ephemeral halos.

The morning air held memories in its depths, each breath carrying echoes of the life they’d built in this tiny space. Here was the corner where Thomas had taken his first steps, wobbling toward James’s outstretched arms. There, the windowsill where they’d placed crumbs of food for the starving mice that sometimes visited, Thomas insisting that even insignificant creatures deserved kindness. Every surface, every shadow held fragments of their story, written in the language of survival and love.

Thomas stood at the window; his small frame silhouetted against the pale morning light. His breath left small clouds on the glass, each one carrying whispered dreams of flight and freedom. Hannah watched him, memorizing this moment – her son still innocent enough to find wonder in the world that had taken so much from them. The rising sun caught his profile, highlighting how much he’d grown to resemble James, down to the thoughtful furrow of his brow as he watched airships drift through the distant fog.

“Thomas,” she said softly, the crystal’s warmth pulsing against her hip where it lay hidden in her pocket. Its rhythm seemed to match her heartbeat, as if it had already become part of her, this dangerous hope James had sent them. “I need to go into the dark market for a while.”

He turned, his father’s eyes searching her face with that same penetrating gaze that had always made her feel truly seen. “The underground one? Where Papa said we should never go?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with James’s warnings and whispered tales of dangers that lurked in Coghaven’s shadows. Hannah crossed the room, her skirts brushing against the dirt floor that had stripped away their color day by day, leaving them as gray as the fog outside. She knelt before him.

“Yes. The crystal your father sent us… it’s enough to buy us a way out. But I need to find the right people to trade with.” She chose her words carefully, each one a bridge between the safety they knew and the uncertainty that awaited. “People who won’t ask too many questions about where it came from.”

Thomas’s fingers worried at a loose thread on his sleeve, a nervous habit he’d inherited from James. “Is it dangerous?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly. James had never lied to their son about the world’s dangers, and she wouldn’t start now. His stories had always balanced wonder with warning, teaching Thomas to see both the beauty and the peril in their world. “But staying here, watching you grow sicker…” She touched his chest, feeling the slight rattle there that grew worse with each passing season. “That’s more dangerous still.”

The morning light strengthened, casting long shadows across their hovel’s uneven floor. Outside, Coghaven stirred to life – the distant hiss of steam vents, the metallic groan of factory gates opening, the shuffle of early workers making their way through the fog. Soon the streets would fill with the desperate symphony of survival, each person carrying their own burden of dreams and compromises.

“While I’m gone, I need you to choose your most important treasures,” she continued, watching his face carefully. “Only what you can carry easily in your father’s rucksack. We… we won’t be coming back here.”

Understanding dawned in Thomas’s eyes – not fear, but something deeper. Something that reminded her so much of James it made her heart ache. That same quiet acceptance of hard truths, tempered by unshakeable hope. “Like when Papa would pack for long scavenging trips?”

“Yes, love.” She smoothed his hair, already too long – they hadn’t been able to afford a proper trim in months. The dark strands slipped through her fingers like water, like time, like all the moments they couldn’t hold onto. “Choose carefully. Each thing you take should be precious.”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll pick the best drawings. The ones Papa helped me with.” He hesitated, then asked, “Will we really find a better place? Like in the pictures?”

Hannah stood, feeling the crystal’s warmth like a promise against her skin. It seemed to pulse stronger now, as if responding to their need, to their readiness to leap into the unknown. “Your father found something valuable in the Iron Mountains. Something that could change everything for us. But first, we need a way to reach it.”

She moved to the door, then paused, looking back at their tiny home. Morning light caught the dust motes dancing in the air, turning them to floating embers of possibility. How many mornings had she watched James pack for scavenging trips? How many times had he promised this one would be different, this one would give them their dream? The memories layered themselves in the air like the fog outside, each one a testament to hope that refused to die.

“Mama?” Thomas’s voice pulled her back to the present, anchoring her in the moment that would divide their lives into before and after. “Be careful in the shadow market. Papa said it’s full of people who’d steal the shine from your eyes if they could.”

A sad smile touched her lips. James’s warnings, living on in their son’s memory. Even now, he was protecting them through the wisdom he’d left behind. “I will, love. Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me.” She touched the knife hidden in her boot – a precaution she prayed she wouldn’t need, its weight a cold counterpoint to the crystal’s warmth. “I’ll knock three times, then two. Remember?”

Thomas nodded, already moving to help her open the heavy door. The morning air rushed in, carrying the metallic taste of Coghaven. Hannah stepped out, then turned back one last time, absorbing the image of her son framed in the doorway of the only home he’d ever known.

“Thomas?”

“Yes, Mama?”

“I love you. Whatever happens… remember that.”

She didn’t wait for his response, didn’t trust herself to look back again. The crystal pulsed against her hip as she merged into the thinning shadows of morning, seeking the hidden entrance to Coghaven’s underground market. Behind her, the sound of their door’s lock clicking into place echoed with finality.

There was no path now but forward, into whatever darkness awaited below the streets of the only home they’d ever known. Hannah touched the letter in her pocket, drawing strength from James’s final words. Soon they would follow his last map into the wastes, chasing a dream of better air and window boxes full of flowers. But first, she had to descend into Coghaven’s shadows, carrying hope like a dangerous light against her heart.