The winds howled while the skies shattered. Multihued streams of Chaos scoured the waypoint, eroding hills and stone to dust. But the resulting tumult stopped dead as soon as it encountered a sphere bordered by purple light.

Virgil Soren Davar projected a Field that held back the raw Chaos while the Waypoint he had created in their flight crumbled around them. It had been a frustrating few weeks, stuck in a prison of his own making but he and his companions were finally safe.

Sarra Fortuna Gorlyn, Inquisitor of the Eternal Empire of the Righteous Order, lent her own Animus to support him. They were at the entrance of the Waypoint, waiting. The Full Moon was finally upon them and, as bargained, the Wyldlings had left them alone.

That wasn’t to say that they weren’t under surveillance but try as he might, Virgil couldn’t see anyone or anything nearby. He could feel it though. The cold caress of death, watching. He couldn’t suppress the shivers running down his back.

“I still think we should have just run,” Balliol Hunt Muryh, a middle-aged man who was slightly shorter than Virgil, muttered while he thumbed his waxed moustache. Despite being well into his fifth decade, he still looked to be in the prime of his life, much like the other four members of the team.

“And miss out on this?” Amiri Senaka Cypher grunted sarcastically. Her shoulder-length red hair fluttered in the breeze. She was the youngest in the group at halfway to her fifth decade, yet her features would have rivalled a woman in her early twenties.

Craig Felron Zorin, the final member of their group, scrubbed his hand across his midnight black hair. He kept staring at a distant point distractedly.

“Trouble?” Virgil asked the wiry man quietly.

Craig smiled then nodded his head. “Our watcher is over there.”

“Outside the Waypoint?”

“Where else?”

“Huh.”

Balliol and Amiri continued to bicker. Unlike the larger man, Amiri had barely had her fill of the adventuring life before her husband convinced her to settle down. She had been chomping at the bit when the mission had been proposed a few weeks back.

“How are we going there?” Craig asked.

Their bargain was to explore a previously undiscovered plane and scour it for artefacts. She Who Whispers in the Light, the Chaos Lord and a Telurian Marchioness, only wanted a weapon from a bygone age, made by the mythical God-Kings.

Virgil would question whether giving a creature that was surely hostile to the Empire and the rest of humanity was foolish at best, treasonous at the very least; but the terms of their bargain didn’t specify that they turn over an artefact merely,

“We are to explore the plane, locate any ancient ruin, and give her the intelligence,” Virgil muttered. “We will be provided with an Ocean Skiffer as well as a compass.”

The Waypoint had finally shattered, freeing them in the process. The land around them shimmered and faded away. They were standing on a bit of dirt, five paces across, held together by their collective Will. Around them were the streams of Chaos normally visible during the nights of the Dark Moon in Rumiga.

Above them, the Full Moon shed its silvery light, churning the streams to a frenzy. Virgil felt its pressure against his mind, demanding that he surrender. He would become one with the Chaos, one with the world. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? An end of suffering and infinite potential to become what he had always wanted to be.

Far too used to Chaos Sea’s antics, Virgil shook himself out of his reverie quickly. The other four did the same, though as the youngest and the one most filled with passion, Amiri’s eyes glowed a fierce red as her Animus rallied to her call. She growled and shook her head, but ultimately, managed to shake herself out of it.

“This gets harder every time,” she complained.

“Only for the weak of heart,” Balliol said snidely though his forehead was soaked in sweat.

Amiri snorted angrily but didn’t take the bait.

The Chaos streams converged when the Waypoint broke. It would continue as such for a few minutes before settling to gentler currents. Soon enough, a wedge, several dozen paces long and about five wide at one end, looking much like an arrowhead, cut through the streams.

“Here’s our ride,” Sarra observed drily.

The rest of them looked at it doubtfully. A vessel capable of traversing the Chaos Sea beyond the areas around the planes was usually a huge affair. Some stretched for more than a longstride, covered in runescript, sporting fan-like wings that used Chaos to provide raw power. The Ocean Skiffer was something of an outlier. For one thing, it wasn’t created by the Eternal Empire but by the Chaos Lords. Specifically by the Solemnus Court. A transport vehicle for small groups and was imminently faster than the humongous Arkships.

The Skiffer was made of silvery alloy and from the pits and dents on its hull, it had seen years of service. On one side, near the wide end, a door slid open invitingly.

“Last chance to back out,” Balliol muttered. “We could still fight our way out but if we enter that thing, there’s no going back.”

Virgil shook his head. “An Accord has been struck. There is no going back on our words.”

Balliol clicked his tongue and looked away.

The little plot of land they were standing on moved next to the door and they boarded. When Balliol, the last one to board, stepped into the vessel, the last bit of earth dissolved and swirled away.

They were in the antechamber, a small room covered in strange runescript. It wasn’t something Virgil recognized, but he wasn’t well versed in the art anyway.

The craft was empty.

The living area was barely more than a room they could bunk in and a small dining area. The control bridge took up the biggest space inside the vehicle. Three people could fit in it amidst a plethora of crystalline panels and jade tablets. The pilot’s station was situated in front of the viewscreen, a transparent alloy that afforded them a forward view. The other two seats were for two co-pilots to contribute their Animus to move the vessel.

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One of the crystal panels blinked and when Sarra touched it, it created a light construct in the form of the Whisperer’s head and shoulders.

“As agreed. This vessel, the Rose’s Thorn, is for your use. The heading for the plane is already known to the Vessel Spirit, simply let Rose direct your travel.” The grey-skinned, red-eyed woman gave them a toothy grin. “I will wait for you on that plane’s Tidelands on the third Full Moon.”

The light construct vanished and the Rose’s Thorn started moving with a small jolt. Outside the viewport, they could see Chaos streams colliding against the hull. Balliol sat on one of the seats, placing his palms on the armrest, right on top of the jade Animus collectors.

“Well, if we’re going, do it right,” he muttered.

Craig took the other seat while Virgil took the pilot’s chair. Sarra and Amiri retired to the living area. Sarra was still limping, though it wasn’t as bad as before. A parting gift from the Whisperer was to remove the taint stopping Sarra from using Recovery easily.

“Technically, we should wait until after the Full Moon before we travel along the Tidelands,” Virgil said.

“That’s only if our destination is either within the Tidelands or back into Rumiga,” Craig observed.

“How long is our travel time?” Balliol asked.

Virgil fiddled around with the indicators, the dials, and the light constructs on his panel, but couldn’t find any information. “I’m not sure.”

“We only have limited supplies, Virgil,” Balliol pointed out. “What are the chances we run out before we arrive?”

“We’re in the Chaos,” Craig laughed. “Worst case, we enter a waypoint where we can resupply.”

“Have you forgotten your Legion days?” Virgil asked.

“I wasn’t part of Vagaris or any other explorer legion,” Balliol pointed out. “Agminis was mostly stationed in Rumiga City.”

“Ah.” Craig nodded. “Well, there are methods to extract safe to consume goods from the primordial Chaos.”

Almost as soon as Virgil sat down and placed his palm on the Animus collector jade, the Skiffer had projected a thin Field around itself, just enough to blunt the corrosive effect the streams had. The drain to his resources was small enough that he estimated he could keep it up for a day or more. He quickly established a rotation schedule between the five of them, mainly to make sure everyone had more than half of their Animus at all times.

The view from the front was mainly of the multihued Chaos streams though now and then, Virgil could make out distant lands much like seeing a mirage in the desert. Or maybe through a soap bubble floating in the air.

One particular view was of an ivory tower soaring above a cloudscape. The tower glowed with radiant white light and he knew that if he were looking at it without the protection of the Skiffer’s viewing panel, he could have been struck blind. The bubble popped after a while, returning to the Chaos streams.

“What was that?” Balliol asked, wonder thick in his voice.

“A Fysalli,” Craig answered, “a view of a distant place, or maybe nothing at all. What did you see?”

“A white tower.”

“Virgil?”

“Same.”

“It could be a real place then,” Craig continued, “but it's not certain either way.”

Balliol nodded absently while he leaned back on his chair. A few minutes of silence passed. Nothing disturbed the monotony of their journey. The vessel didn’t jostle aside from the first time it started moving. The Field they created was strong enough to muffle everything. Virgil preferred this to any kind of excitement though.

Balliol kept staring at the viewport, his eyes wide. The Chaos streams were usually segregated by their hue, with each particular colour could be as thin as a pace, or a wide as a longstride. Right now, the colours streaming past them hurt the eye, but at the same time, was oddly calm and soothing.

There was no denying the beauty of the Chaos but it was as deadly to them as a snake bite was to a rat.

Balliol shook off his fascination and sighed, “I still think we should have just gone home.”

Virgil frowned but held back from saying anything. Craig asked, in a patient tone, “Why?”

Balliol shrugged. “ Aside from the fact that I miss my wife and kids, do you have any idea what trouble we’d be in once we do return?”

“We have an official mandate from the Inquisitor,” Virgil reminded him.

“You know as much as I do that that won’t hold any water in the Legion Tribunal.” Balliol rubbed his eyes with his palms. “We failed in stopping the Wave. And instead of returning as soon as we could, we’re in this swarming chase!”

“I’m personally more worried we’d be declared dead,” Craig observed.

Virgil shook his head. “That isn’t the worst thing. What if our people attempt to mount a rescue?”

“Isn’t there a way to get word back to Rumiga?”

“Nothing that could survive the Chaos streams.”

Hours later and it was time to change the shift. Virgil got up from the pilot’s seat, which was no better than the other two if he were to be honest about things. The Rose’s Thorn moved on its own and determined their heading without any input from him. It was, he realized, a way for the Chaos Lord to ensure the secrecy of their errand. There was no way he could retrace their path to the unknown plane.

So, he didn’t even try. He spent most of his idle hours meditating. It had been more than two decades since he had advanced to Knight-Captain in Anima strength, and that had mostly been with his wife’s help. Now, he felt no closer to advancing to the next level.

Nevermind the elixirs and pills that could increase his Animus capacity; he’d long reached the Sollus state. There was no more room in his core to cram in more Animus. Unless he found a way to change things, then this was the end of his journey.

‘That wasn’t too bad,’ he thought to himself. If he was lucky, he would live long enough to see his children grow and come into their own. He’d love to bounce grandchildren on his knees, too, and if he was lucky, his great-grandchildren.

More than anything, he worried about Yuriko and Rami. His youngest was three years away from his Atavism Ritual while Yuriko had hopefully finished her Facet inlay by now. He hoped it was something she could live with, though considering Sadeen’s Heritage and Facet, it was unlikely for their daughter to get a martial skill-based Facet.

He indulged her in training the past couple of years, knowing that one way or another, she had to learn to defend herself. At the same time, he knew her true calling was more likely going to be Sorcery or Spellweaving.

Craig had drawn the short straw among the three of them and he would be staying on to provide Animus to the vessel while Virgil and Balliol rested. The two men walked down the short hallway to the living area.

Amiri prepared some ration porridge and as usual, she had raided Virgil’s stash of spices to make the resulting glop palatable. Snorting to himself, he knocked on the bunkroom door.

Sarra and Amiri came out, the redhead yawning into her fist. Virgil ate quickly while the ladies went to the bridge. There was a chamber to do their private business, certainly better than a shovel and a bush, but not by much.

The bunkroom had four beds flushed against the walls. Virgil climbed up to the right side one and was out like a light not a second later. Still, he felt like he’d barely gotten any sleep when he felt someone shaking him awake.

“What?”

“Trouble,” Sarra grunted.

“Why does it always happen when I’m sleeping?” he grouched.

“Just your luck?” Sarra shrugged.

Virgil and Balliol scrambled to the bridge. The vessel was shuddering and Virgil stumbled against the bulkhead.

“Burning Moon,” he cursed. Balliol fell on his back as the Virgil lost his balance and both of them fell in a heap. The Rose’s Thorn bounced and shuddered as if a Titan had picked it up and shook it.

Virgil curled up into a ball while Balliol hardened the air around him. A minute later, the vessel stopped shaking and the two of them rushed to the bridge. Amiri, Sarra, and Craig looked none the worse for wear, courtesy of their seatbelts though Craig looked a bit green around the ears.

“What was that?” Virgil blurted, freezing as he looked out the viewport. The Chaos streams were gone. In its place was a strange scene; for a moment he thought he saw his wife and daughter outside, visions of beauty in a desolate place. But they were nothing more than an image.

Dust, winds, water, and lighting cascaded outside, rocking the Skiffer. Then, a single orb, bigger than the vessel appeared. It turned, its surface changing hues from red and green, to blue and violet. A moment later, he realized that he was staring at a humongous eye, the pupil shaped like a slit, not much different from a cat’s eye.

“An Unformed,” Sarra whispered.

“Fallen Sun…” the curse split out of Virgil like a sigh. What else could go wrong?