After leaving Master Lyra's fog-covered realm, I felt lighter inside. My emotions, once chaotic, moved together like music. But Elder Aarion reminded me gently, "Emotion and reason must march side by side. You've learnt to understand people—now you must learn how to shape the future for them."
He directed me toward the eastern plain — a wide open area where silver grass shimmered, and strange metallic sounds echoed faintly through the wind. As I approached, I saw towers made from glass and light, floating gears rotating midair, and small orbs buzzing like insects.
At the centre of this strange field stood a tall woman wearing a sleeveless coat of steel-blue fabric. Her eyes, bright green like electric sparks, glowed against her dark bronze skin. She had short silver hair tied neatly and wore gloves that shimmered when touched by sunlight. Around her floated half-complete machines and luminous diagram sheets that changed every second.
She turned toward me before I could speak. Her smile was confident — almost mischievous. "Ah, the boy of seven stars finally reached the Forge of Tomorrow."
She extended her hand. "I am Master Aveline Cross, the Architect of Progress."
Elder Aarion's voice carried admiration. "Aveline Cross: mechanical genius, inventor, technomancer. She bridges flesh and circuit, heart and machine. In the mortal realm, she reshaped cities with living technology — systems that breathed and adapted. She built miracles and stopped wars with innovation. But she came here to rediscover the purpose behind creation."
Aveline folded her arms, the faint hum of her glove echoing. "Innovation isn't glory, Aarion. It's a responsibility. Come, Mukul — let's see if you can build without breaking."
From the moment my lessons began, I realised her teaching style was unlike all others — sharp, energetic, and always hands-on. She believed no wisdom stayed alive unless applied.
Her workshop was a living maze — half nature, half technology. Vines carried glowing currents; metallic sap flowed through tree trunks that powered suspended lamps. The floor shifted as she walked, adapting to her footsteps.
"Everything here listens," she said. "The ancients shaped this island with energy. I simply taught it to talk back."
She taught me both the chaos of invention and the discipline it required. "Think of machines as children," she said once while melting a block of white metal. "Give them purpose, and they'll sing. Give them power without conscience, and they'll devour."
She began with ancient creation arts, teaching me how old civilisations blended magic and mechanism — how they used sound frequencies to shape alloys, how bronze could be awakened with spiritual runes, and how energy flowed through crystals like blood through veins.
Next, she handed me circular tools made of rotating light. "This is how your world builds differently," she said. "Digital blueprints — thoughts turned into structure."
Her modern lessons expanded my mind further. I learnt how energy moved in waves, how nanobots could mimic healing, and how ideas born through mathematics alone could become tangible with imagination." Modern engineers, she said, "are magicians who replaced prayers with numbers. Both work if faith does."
Sometimes, we argued — playfully but intensely.
Once, while testing an invention that glowed dangerously bright, I asked her, "Why stop progress, Master? Imagine what we could do with infinite power!"
She looked at me quietly, then said, "Because I already imagined it. I built machines that thought for us, healed for us, and even loved for us — until they no longer needed us. Progress without purpose is extinction, Mukul."
Her words sank deep.
Later, she showed me her greatest creation—the Harmonic Core, a sphere suspended above her lab, pulsing with energy that hummed like a heartbeat. "It runs on empathy," she said. "It grows only when people act with intention, not greed."
She made me place my hand on it. The surface rippled with warmth; faint lights emerged from my seven-star mark, merging with it until both glowed softly.
"Good," she said lightly. "Even machines can recognise a pure will."
Days became weeks. She made me sculpt power systems from light, forge weapons that protected instead of hunted, and create small drones that carried seeds to barren land. Her philosophy was simple — "Technology should serve life, not rule it."
She also taught me a hybrid discipline she called Technomancy of Balance. Using both ancient runes and modern circuits, it allowed me to connect human energy with machine intelligence. Through it, I understood that willpower could translate into power — intention becoming innovation.
When I questioned her past, her eyes dimmed for the first time. "I was once captain of the Stellar Foundry—a network of orbiting labs where I created the Eden Protocol," she said softly. "It was meant to save dying planets. But governments turned it into a weapon. I left before it destroyed another world."
She placed her hand over her mechanical heart-glove. "I came here to design something that can't be corrupted — a future guided by compassion, not conquest."
Before I completed her training, she called me one night to the roof of her workshop. The stars reflected in the metallic panels like tiny worlds. "You've seen what time, emotion, and destiny look like," she said. "Now you must learn to innovate without arrogance."
She handed me a small metallic wristband that clicked softly when touched. "This device has no power on its own," she said. "It only amplifies what's inside the wearer. Let it remind you that tools are not what make a hero — choices do."
As I slipped it on, she smiled faintly. "Remember this, Mukul: progress without love is destruction; invention without limits is chaos. You are meant to reshape worlds one day. Just make sure you build hearts before machines."
As I left the glowing plains behind, the hum of her workshop faded into silence. Yet I could still feel the rhythm of its heartbeat echoing inside my wrist — a reminder that knowledge, when guided by compassion, becomes light rather than fire.
And that was how I met Aveline Cross—The Architect of Progress, the master who taught me that creation means nothing without care, that power must walk hand in hand with empathy, and that even machines need a soul to truly serve life.