With the help of a strong gust of wind, the Featherflight limped down to the ground. Halfway up the island’s slope, they set down at a clearing. It was barely large enough to fit the airship, but the trees were tall and would keep them hidden.

The vessel skidded down onto the ground, and Pirin threw a grapple. It wound around a tree and hooked in place. Then, he tossed another to the opposite side of the clearing.

But the Featherflight wasn’t going anywhere, with or without grapples. The gondola brushed the dirt and gave a soft heave, then the heavy weight of the upper hull and deflating gasbags settled, as if the ship was exhaling. It had a rigid frame, but it wasn’t designed to support so much weight without the help of lyftgas.

Gray fluttered down at the edge of the clearing. Pirin ran up to her and asked, “Are you alright? You’re unhurt, right?”

I just got tossed around by the blast. We should be more concerned about you.

Pirin patted himself down. “I’m fine, Gray. At least, on the outside.” He stepped away, shaking out his arm. His Essence channels would need a chance to rest after using them so much in such a quick burst.

Just borrow mine, for the time being, she said. If you really need to cycle.

“Did you just read my mind?”

Gray blinked a few times, her beady eyes scanning him. I guess I caught a few other thoughts seeping through when you were talking to me.

Pirin chuckled softly. “Good to know you can do that, I guess.” After a short pause, he asked, “Did you see anything nearby? Any towns, villages, or camps?”

No one will bother us up here, not for a good few days. And unless you’re directly above, you can’t see the big…big white thing…

“The airship?”

Yes, that’s what it’s called! So many new things to learn, so little time…

For the next few hours, Pirin rested at the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree and looking up at the vessel. Alyus and Brealtod scampered around its sagging hull, inspecting it and preparing a damage report. As Pirin watched, one of the sail-bearing spars cracked and fell off all the way.

He wasn’t sure if Myraden would find her way up to them, or if she had even seen the Featherflight escape, so after a few minutes, when his legs didn’t feel like they were about to fall off and his channels didn’t ache so much, he climbed up onto Gray’s back. His makeshift Reyad was still intact, and he explained to her what they were doing—searching for Myraden.

They flew down along the shore, searching for Kythen’s white fur and vibrant red horns—those would stand out the most in the night.

They found Kythen and Myraden where the old air harbour had been. Now, it was just a few charred beams hanging far out over the ocean, with a crowd of curious onlookers gathered around the edge. Pirin explained what had happened to the Featherflight.

“Thank the Eane!” she exclaimed, patting the extra beams of wood and the spool of fabric, which had been tied to the bloodhorn’s back with her spear. “Though I think we will need some more supplies now.”

“Let’s just get back to the ship,” Pirin said. “Then we can figure out what to do.”

There was no path to get through the woods, but that didn’t seem to hinder Kythen. The bloodhorn, with Myraden riding on its back, plowed through the undergrowth with ease. Even though it was spring still, the plants here were green and lush. They had massive fronds instead of leaves, and pale, waxy bark. Pirin and Gray flew high above, circling around so they didn’t outpace Kythen.

It was midnight by the time they returned to the clearing. Alyus and Brealtod ran over to meet them.

“How soon can we get back up into the air?” Pirin asked.

“The damage is serious.” Alyus cleared his throat, then quickly added, “Though she’s seen worse, and we’ve fixed ‘er up back then, too. But the lower rudder fin is all torn up, and two of the central rings are cracked. You can see that fallen sail-spar pretty plain with your own eyes, and there’s some scorch damage…ah, well, you get the picture. Brealtod made us a nice list of all the work we have to do. Altogether, it’ll probably be a month before we can get back up in the air.”

Pirin sighed. Another roadblock.

Look on the…good side? Bright side? Yes, bright side—that’s what you people say! Gray began, chirping aloud as her voice echoed inside Pirin’s mind. If you can form up some really good foundation Timbers in your core all on your own, it’ll be a good sign for any master who wants to take you in.

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“A bargaining chip,” Pirin muttered. “And it’s not like we have much choice, now. We’re stuck here.” He turned his gaze up to the peak of the island, where a flock of Rustlers circled. “Let’s hope they can’t find us.”

“Something is wrong about this island,” Myraden said, crossing her arms. “And I do not like it.”

image [https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f3a882_5e221995337243e6a7d4250b55d3aeea~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_280,h_232,al_c,lg_1,q_85,enc_auto/embercore%20sigil.png]

After Alyus had given the damage report, they all went to sleep—after all, there wasn’t any more work they could do tonight, while they were all so tired.

Or, they all tried to sleep. Myraden seemed to have no trouble flopping down on her cot and passing out, and neither did Alyus. Brealtod had volunteered to keep the first watch, and that left Pirin. His hands still jittered, and he hadn’t yet deactivated his Reyad. He laid on his cot, staring up at the ceiling of the Featherflight’s crew quarters, as if any second, the roof might cave in on them.

Myraden was right. There was something incredibly off about this island. First, the Rustlers, then the Rustlers seeming specifically attracted to this location. Now, a clan looking for something, and that mysterious man int he supply shop…

Now that Pirin thought about the encounter, that man seemed to have been waiting for someone.

Pirin exhaled over and over, trying to relax enough that he could sleep. It didn’t work.

He rolled off the cot, climbed down to the gondola, then left the airship. He found Gray wandering around outside, pecking at the ground and fluttering aimlessly every few seconds. “Couldn’t sleep, either?”

I couldn’t. I used to be able to sleep whenever I wanted, but now, my mind just won’t be quiet. There are too many thoughts. It’s not a terrible trade-off for having more than a bird-brain, don’t get me wrong—and if you were thinking about apologizing, don’t.

“I…well, I was.” He crossed his arms. “Wanna practice, then?”

Practice?

“My Essence channels have rested a little bit, and I figure I could try using the Winged Fist for mobility. Like we did back on the platform.”

What a wonderful idea! Don’t break your legs…

Pirin sighed. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

What do you need me to do?

“I want to try jumping into the saddle from the ground.” He paused, then added, “While you’re flying.”

For an hour, Pirin practiced punching downwards with the Winged Fist to give his jumps an extra boost. At first, he was shooting the gust of air out too slowly. It recoiled against his fist, but not enough to give him a significant boost. Then, he overcompensated, and launched himself too high.

He landed in a crouch, but it still jarred his legs. Worse, every time, he missed Gray as she swooped past.

Why don’t you try it with your legs? Gray suggested. Kick down, instead of punching. Jump again in the air? Your weird, thick, man—

“Elf,” Pirin reminded her.

—elf legs could handle that, right?

Pirin liked the idea, but he’d never tried using a magical technique with his legs before. He started simple—with the same Essence movements he used in his arms to activate the Winged Punch. He made air ripple around one leg, then blasted the gust outwards. It pushed him back just a little bit, but if he spread his legs and planted his other foot, it couldn’t move him.

He kept practicing until he could make the air surge around each leg and recoil with enough force to knock himself over. Every hour, he burned through the majority of his gnatsnapper Essence, and he had to cycle a little bit to get it back—harvesting Essence from the Eane, then passing it to Gray to give it an aspect.

Even though the Eane was supposedly stronger here, it didn’t make his ability to harvest any faster. He could only take in, integrate, and purify a set amount with this cycling technique.

“Alright, now let’s try using it to jump,” he said.

The first few attempts at using both his legs at the same time failed—he spread the Essence too thin between them. He practiced a few strategies: using the technique right at the ground, aiming the technique slightly backwards, aiming at the grass. None were as effective as jumping first, then using the technique midair, like he was taking a second step.

It took ten more attempts to land on Gray’s saddle as she swooped past. Pirin sprung up from the ground, jumping as high as he could with his normal legs, then added a second boost of air with a Winged Kick.

He clutched the side of the saddle with his hand, then swung overtop and slammed his feet into the stirrups in one fluid motion.

“It worked!” he cheered, pulling back on Gray’s nape. They angled upwards, streaking towards the sky above. Gray rolled with delight, then chirped a quick tune. They circled back down to the clearing.

Now, are you tired enough to put yourself to sleep? Gray asked.

“One last thing,” Pirin said. Judging by the angle of the moons in the sky, they’d still have a few hours before sunrise. He sat down cross-legged on the grassy floor of the clearing and settled into a slow cycling pattern. “I’m going to experiment with making Timbers,” he said. “Like you suggested.”

He envisioned a log. He envisioned the best, thickest, driest piece of wood—the best for burning. It would have to last a long time.

Then he turned his attention inwards. His leftover Essence swirled around his core, and he tried to guide it into the shape he wanted. As far as he could tell, the Essence didn’t actually manifest, but it became almost an extension of the core.

But he wouldn’t go trying to tell that to anyone else, because it might have been wrong.

He began to form a round slice of gnatsnapper Essence beneath his core, then, like when he had managed his first advancement from Kindling to Spark, he compressed it with his will.

The slice began to sputter and crack, and Pirin almost thought he could sense splinters pushing off the slice of Essence.

He held his breath, stopping the cycling entirely. The in-progress timber shattered entirely, falling back into ethereal Essence and integrating back into his channels.

Good news! There’s still time to keep trying, Gray said. But we do need to go to sleep eventually…