Standing at the entry of the second floor where the floor plan wanted the medical district to begin, Talia stood and felt the stone. Her connection felt smooth and no longer had that slight resistance to her the way it once had. When Talia set her palms against the cliff-face at the right edge of the citadel and breathed, the mountain listened in a way that felt… familiar now. Like it was aware and knew what she was asking for.
"Good, this should be faster to build." Talia said
"Talia, remember, 4hrs only and then a break." Maris spoke while starring at Talia.
Talia OK'd her and got to work. She began with the cliff front.
A rough-cut roadway became her first task. She widened it deliberately into four clean lanes, pushing back the stone while creating vents, channels and hardening the stone. It all came back to her naturally, the rock peeled away in slabs that drifted into the open pockets she'd prepared ahead of time, empty caverns held open just long enough to swallow extra stone before sealing again with a quiet flick of her hand.
Dust never filled the air with all the stone movement as she shaped channels for it, guiding it down and out, letting water she'd coaxed from the mountain's veins wash residue away in thin sheets that vanished into carved drains. It was work that required focus, not power. The kind that punished distraction.
The sun rooms followed.
She carved long horizontal windows into the cliff face, careful not to breach structural ribs, letting daylight spill inward in pale bands. The large stone panel that slid into place would protect the opening from weather and breaches. Between the windows, she left cavities where greenery would later grow: moss, vine, soft-leaf plants that thrived on reflected light and constant moisture.
Clan Tram stations came last along the cliff front road where they reached out to connect with the tram spiral. She shaped them with gentle curves so sound wouldn't echo harshly, and threaded water through their bases so the air stayed cool even during heavy traffic.
Only when the cliff face felt finished did she move inward.
The Medical District was first, and it demanded more care than strength ever could.
She carved the main hospital chamber broad and low, ceilings reinforced with layered stone ribs that dispersed pressure naturally. Each wing flowed outward rather than stacking upward—Tegan's request—so no patient would feel buried. She shaped isolation rooms with separate airflow channels, pulling clean air from high vents and pushing stale breath out through another separate vent.
Water was constant here. She carved channels beneath floors and sealed them with smooth stone membranes, allowing warmth without dampness. Pools for sterilisation filled at her touch, water clearing itself as she guided it through mineral filters she'd grown directly into the walls.
She built long-care rooms next, softer spaces with wider doorways and low thresholds. She let greenery creep along the upper walls here—thin-leaf vines that softened sound and calmed breath. Tegan stood nearby most days, watching, occasionally asking for a nook here, a shelf there, always precise. Talia listened, adjusted and innovated.
Physical therapy rooms came last, open and bright, stone floors textured just enough to grip bare feet. She tested them herself, pacing, stretching, falling once and laughing quietly when the stone caught her safely.
The normal residency buildings and parks took the least amount of time and energy as she had a complete blueprint for those. After completing the district she used the Medical district blueprint to smooth the edges and get the channels opened and ready for people.
Then she moved on.
The Educational District took longer, not because it was harder—but because it was going to be more active and louder. Being beside the medical district the noise isolation would need special care.
She carved the primary school hall first, a wide oval space with tiered floors that rose gently toward the back so small bodies could see without strain. Light came from above here, channeled down through narrow shafts that diffused glare and shifted color with the day. She left the walls intentionally imperfect—places where children could hang drawings, scratch marks, evidence of growth.
Classrooms branched off like petals. Smaller, warmer and each with storage niches, water basins, and low ledges that doubled as seating. She shaped the teacher bunks nearby, compact but quiet, and added planning rooms where stone tables grew directly from the floor, immovable and steady.
She continued with the Staff quarters, canteen, parks, play and training grounds with equipment, the Childcare area with a nursery and a Pool with gardens attached. Finally came the last building, the library.
She carved it deeper than the rest, where sound naturally softened. Shelving grew from the walls in layered arcs, stone thinned and treated so it felt almost wooden to the touch. She left gaps—empty pockets again—future space for books they hadn't written yet. When she finished, she stood there alone for a long time, listening to the quiet.
The Governance District was her last project for this floor.
The Lord's office was simple—too simple, Dav complained later. A rounded chamber with a single stone desk, carved low enough that no one would have to look up at her when they spoke. Behind it, a narrow balcony overlooked the central ramp, not as a display—but as a symbol of accountability.
Council rooms followed, oval and balanced, with equal seating carved into the stone itself, no raised platforms or hidden corners. She shaped acoustic veins into the walls so voices carried evenly, no matter who spoke.
Judicial space came next. She kept it small, intentionally restrained. The stone here was darker, denser, shaped to absorb sound rather than reflect it. She left one wall unfinished—raw stone visible beneath the smoothing layers. As a reminder for the Clan, and a hope that no further expansion was necessary here.
The Contribution hall, admin rooms, record halls, coordination spaces followed in quiet efficiency. She routed airflow and water to each building and park. Ensured that every corridor connected and that nothing was isolated.
Twenty-four days passed like this.
Not in a blur—but in an accumulation of work.
Talia slept when she had to, ate when Maris put food in her hands, Dad and the engineers checked structural stress daily, Cael walked the grounds planning patrol routes through half-finished halls and marking sightlines. Auntie Junia sometimes sat nearby, silent and grounding the space simply by being present.
When the last stone settled, Talia walked the entire floor alone.
She tested airflow, closed vents and opened others. Water ran clean, filled pools, drained without residue and the greenery responded when she coaxed it, leaves unfurling just enough to soften corners without claiming space.
Ready for the final step, she used the blueprint, not to add, but to refine. Edges smoothed, load paths clarified, minor imperfections corrected and balanced.
Talia stood at the top of the central stairway and looked out at the huge project she had just completed and felt a welling of pride.
"Lord, I've called them, the Clan will arrive shortly." Maris called out to her.
"Thanks Maris." Talia could hear the arrival. They walked in clusters at first, curiously speeding up when they spotted something interesting. The voices echoed—then softened when reaching a sound pocket, they touched walls, leaned on ledges, and sat where they shouldn't.
Shaking her head Talia turned to the children. They burst into the school grounds and playground as if the space had been waiting specifically for them. Shouting, racing and skidding across stone that no longer felt cold.
Teachers, medical staff and office workers followed the group and began filling the rooms with life, equipment was placed on shelves, ornaments on ledges and the rooms were ready to receive the Clan.
Talia stood at the edge and watched as the second floor was completed as the Clan filled the space with life.