Pirin kept all his Essence tight inside his core and bunched up, allowing his channels to relax as he prepared to form his Reyad.

When he and Gray crossed over the central mountain of the island, he hoped he had given his body enough time to rest. But he couldn’t wait any longer to form his Reyad; he would need the rest of the flight to recover.

He reached into his haversack and pulled out his umberstone mask. Tugging the leather strap around his head, he fastened it as quickly as he could. The cold stone pressed against his face, carved runes ready to conduct Essence. With a single exhale, he pushed his Essence up to the mask and flooded the runes. When he began to cycle Essence again, everything aligned.

Golden light flared in front of his eyes. Lightning blasted through his veins and seared his body on a deeper, spiritual level. Forming a Reyad was enough to knock most wizards out for the next few days, but they only had to do it once in their lives. Pirin had practiced forming his Reyad nearly a hundred times by now.

When the golden light cleared away from his eyes, his Essence channels straightened out and smoothed, and his power flowed freely. He visualized Gray’s core as well, a brighter orb, that he could pass invisible, unmanifested Essence through the air to. The circuit was complete. It was a small trade-off for exhausted muscles and aching limbs.

What’s wrong? Gray asked inside his head, finally able to communicate with him again. What’s the hurry?

“There’s a bomb at the air harbour!” Pirin shouted, pushing intent into his words. He didn’t have to speak louder than the wind for the Essence to carry his message, but he yelled anyway. “Some local sect is trying to keep visitors away!”

From what?

“I have no idea! Something’s going on here!”

Is it the same thing that’s getting the Rustlers worked up?

“I don’t know, Gray! But we can’t let them destroy the Featherflight, or we’ll never make it the rest of the way across the ocean!”

The air harbour wasn’t lit, but in the magenta moonslight, the pale envelopes of the airships shone brighter than anything else around. It wasn’t hard to locate. “There!” Pirin yelled, pointed ahead.

I see it!

They dove towards the wooden platform. Gray tucked her wings, and Pirin leaned in as close as he could to her feathery back. The ground raced towards them, treetops poised like spears. At the last second, Pirin pulled back on Gray’s nape. She flapped her wings, rising out of the dive and stirring up a tidal wave of dirt and dust.

They touched down on the shore just beside the air harbour platform. Gray ran along the path to slow down, but there wasn’t enough room. They slipped onto the harbour platform, her talons skittering on the wet wood.

Pirin leapt out of the saddle and rolled along the boards. He stumbled to his feet, then looked back at Gray and yelled, “Go! Get back! I don’t know how much time we have!”

What if you need a lift?

“Circle around, but stay at a safe distance!”

As Gray took flight again, Pirin sprinted across the platform to the Featherflight. It had been a small, drowsy platform to begin with, but now, it was downright deserted. The airships’ crews had all climbed into their vessels to sleep, and whatever cargo hadn’t been loaded aboard the ships during the day was strapped down to the platform—entirely out of the way.

His legs ached, and it felt like he’d been running laps of the island all morning. He cycled his Essence to his limbs, and the slight, minor burst of strength helped cool the strain.

When Pirin reached the Featherflight’s gondola, he slammed the door open fast and hard. It slammed against the wall. “Alyus! Brealtod!”

He heard no response. Climbing up the ladder, he cycled his Essence as fast as he could. “Alyus! We need to leave, now!”

When he reached the axial catwalk, he spotted the two smugglers on the very opposite side of the airship, near the stern. They knelt next to a gasbag, holding sewing needles and a varnish brush. “No, no, you big oaf!” Alyus complained, but he laughed more than he groaned.

Brealtod let out a soft hiss that also sounded like laughter.

“Alright, now let’s actually get that sealant where—”

“Alyus!” Pirin yelled. “We need to get the ship up, now!”

The ostal captain leapt to his feet. “What’s wrong, elfy? Did you get in trouble with some Dominion soldiers?”

“There’s a bomb! At the platform, somewhere!”

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Alyus’ eyes widened. He sprinted along the catwalk towards Pirin, untying knots—the ropes that controlled the ballonets—as he ran. The airship shuddered, its frame creaking as it strained against the mooring ropes. “Brealtod, dump all the ballast, then help me with the sails! We’ve got enough wind to push us out to sea! Elfy, get back outside and cut the mooring lines!”

Pirin sprinted back to the ladder and slid down it. He landed in the crew quarters with a thud, then climbed all the way down to the gondola and jumped back outside the ship. There was no time to worry about knots or keeping the ropes in good order. He hacked through the first mooring line with a crude swipe of his sword. The next line was easier to make a clean cut; the Featherflight started to rise, tightening the ropes for him.

A waterfall poured out of a hatch in the envelope—the ballast. Alyus scrambled out onto the spars of the sails, hauling on a rope. One of the white sheets fell into place, and immediately, the wind filled it. Propelled only on one side, the Featherflight began to twist. Its stern swept across the platform, colliding with a stack of barrels. The barrels didn’t move; they were strapped down tight. It tore a gash in the Featherflight’s tail fin.

Pirin saved the gondola’s mooring rope for last. But the Featherflight had already started to rise. The floor of the gondola was more than a storey above the main platform of the harbour.

Pirin sprinted towards it and jumped as high as he could. His fingers brushed the bottom of the rear platform, but he couldn’t latch on.

He fell and landed in a crouch beneath the gondola, panting. Every second he wasted, the Featherflight drifted upwards. He needed a boost.

First, he looked for Gray. But she circled above the platform, high up and too far away to push intent to.

But he wasn’t out of options just yet. He still had some gnatsnapper Essence in his body.

When Pirin used the Winged Fist, he always had to take a wide stance and brace his arm—if he didn’t, it’d push him back.

He took a step back, sheathed his sword, then ran towards the gondola again. He leapt as high as he could. Halfway through his jump, he punched downwards, pushing gnatsnapper Essence to the tip of his fist as fast as he could. The air rippled around his arm. He forced as much energy as he could to the tip of his hand, and the air responded.

With a hollow crack, the recoil of the Winged Fist launched him up just enough. He gripped onto the edge of the gondola’s back balcony and hauled himself up. As soon as he was stable, he drew his sword again and sliced through the last rope.

The Featherflight, now facing the ocean, lurched forwards. The rudder wheel came unlocked—the broom holding it in place had snapped—and the wheel was spinning free. Pirin grabbed it, then wedged his shoulder into the spokes to stop its spinning. Once he had the wheel stable, he hoisted it back the other direction.

The airship’s frame creaked, and a few distant beams cracked. The wind pushed them to the side, and Pirin spun the rudder wheel back the other direction, trying to keep the airship from colliding with the rocky cliff. It turned, the gondola skimming just past the steep shelf of the shore.

A few thuds signalled Alyus’ return. He sprinted to Pirin’s side and helped him hold the wheel in place. “You alright, elfy?”

“I’m good,” Pirin breathed, staggering back from the wheel now that Alyus had it under control. But just because they were stable didn’t mean they were any further away from the harbour.

Well, they were further. A little bit. But they needed to get completely out of the blast range. If the lyftgas inside the other airships ignited…

“Put the harbour to our back!” Pirin said. “Gray’s out of the blast range, and Myraden’s still riding back. They’ll be alri—”

A rumble vibrated the gondola’s floor. Pirin’s head whipped to the side. A pillar of orange flame blasted up through the boards of the air harbour’s platform, originating from below. The blast sent flaming boards high up into the air, along with a puff of sparks and smouldering splinters.

The chunks ripped through the largest moored airship first. Flaming shards punctured its gasbags, and in seconds, the ship erupted into a single ball of flame.

A shockwave blasted the Featherflight, shattering the gondola’s windows and flinging glass across the small room. A shard sliced Pirin’s shoulder, and another smashed into his mask. The force of the blast flung him and Alyus into the opposite wall.

Another airship exploded, titanwood frame and all. A burning wooden ring seared past the Featherflight’s rudder fins, and a flaming spar blazed past the underbelly. Sparks flew everywhere.

Pirin’s eyes widened. The flames licked onto the Featherflight’s bottom envelope. He couldn’t waste a second. He leapt onto the balcony and unleashed the most powerful Winged Fist he could. A column of air shot out from around his hand, guided by his Essence. He emptied all the gnatsnapper Essence from his arm into his hand. Grayish brown feathers manifested along his arm—Essence leaking out of his body, consumed by the technique.

The column of air rustled along the bottom of the envelope, immediately putting out the flames before they could burn through to the gasbags beneath. The sudden blast of air cracked one of the frame rings, and some of the starboard sail’s rigging ripped free. Without the help of the ropes, the horizontal spars sagged.

Pirin gripped the gondola’s wall to support himself. Without Gray nearby, he couldn’t make any new gnatsnapper Essence—only pure Essence.

Alyus gripped Pirin under his shoulders and helped him back into the gondola. “Elfy? Can you hear me?”

Pirin nodded, gasping for breath and trying to maintain his cycling pattern. His channels ached and his body wanted to give up at any moment, but there was still work to do. “I’m good,” he said, steadying his legs and hoisting himself back up onto his own two feet.

“Can you hold the wheel steady?” Alyus demanded.

“Yeah.” Pirin staggered forward and gripped the rudder wheel, holding it in place. He glanced over his shoulder. The initial shockwave had pushed them further away from the air harbour, and out of the range of the next explosions. All that remained of the other airships were charred ribcages—titanwood frames. The damaged platform sagged under their weight. With a crackle, it toppled into the sea.

“I’ll help Brealtod with the sails,” Alyus said. “We need to put down somewhere; we were already leaking gas and now I’m sure we’re gushing.”

“I’ll aim for the lower slope of the island,” Pirin said, eyeing the central mountain of Dulfer’s Reach. “We’ll be sheltered in the trees, out of sight and out of everyone’s way. Then we can regroup and get working on those repairs.”