Amelia leaned over the railing, deep in thought. “Take in the bloody sights,” he said. How can I do that now? she wondered. A story that begins with an attack from a creature should’ve ended just as fast. Am I really just lucky?

The vast wilderness below stretched endlessly, a living tapestry of greens and golds, whisping beneath the airship like the world’s grandest canvas. It was a sight meant to inspire awe, yet Amelia’s mind clung stubbornly to darker memories—the moment the "Devil Dog" had crashed into her life, setting her on this harrowing journey. The beauty of the landscape couldn’t wash away the lingering terror.

New Dwarden’s dangers weren’t just confined to the shadows or the mines; they thrived in the open wilds, where creatures as fierce as Kalpin monsters guarded their territories, and spirits roamed with purposes beyond human comprehension. Quadrant Seven was no different. From her vantage point on the Pappy Long Legs, Amelia caught glimpses of the Quadrant’s infamous inhabitants—some grotesque and imposing, others so small they seemed like mere specks from her height.

But none of these beings held the same grip on her thoughts as the Devil Dog. That monstrous entity was more than just some monster; it was a shadow that refused to be banished, a constant reminder of the fragility of life but more importantly of the mystery her life may hold. The terror it instilled had carved a permanent scar in her memory, a scar she couldn't ignore no matter how stunning the view.

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the present. The horizon was painted in hues of red and gold as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the landscape. Suddenly, a flock of Ignorpa—creatures resembling oversized lizards with feathered wings—soared alongside the airship. Their appearance offered a brief but welcome distraction from her dark thoughts.

"I guess… some animals don’t want a fresh slab of you," she muttered, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Though I wouldn’t mind if things were a bit smaller. And fewer teeth would be nice too…”

The rhythmic flapping of the Ignorpas' wings cut through the wind, a steady beat that was strangely calming. Amelia’s hand instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn’t there, a reflex born from the countless dangers she’d faced. But there was no need for it now. The Ignorpas, graceful in their flight, were uninterested in her or the ship. She watched them, captivated by their effortless glide through the air, the sunlight catching on their pale wings.

“Am…elia?” a voice called out from the distance, distorted and faint.

Amelia stiffened, her hand dropping from the railing. She scanned the dimly lit interior of the airship, eyes narrowing as she tried to make out the source of the voice. “Bolton!? Ehmir!? Rick?” she called out, her voice echoing off the metallic walls. The playful tone she’d used moments ago faded quickly as unease crept in. "See, this is why I’m not sold on the whole 'I’m not being kidnapped' concept," she muttered to herself, adding more quietly, "...Roy?"

But no response came, just the soft sway of the triangular lanterns lining the hallway. The airship’s steady hum seemed louder in the absence of any other noise. She tried again, her voice more urgent this time, “Roy. Roy! Which way’s the hole I’m stayin’ in?”

Only silence answered.

Amelia’s gaze dropped to the blue gem embedded in her locket, her fingers brushing it as if seeking comfort. The quiet pressed in around her, thick and heavy, as she started down the hallway. Each step echoed ominously in the dark, her earlier curiosity now tinged with apprehension. The idea of exploring a city in the sky had once filled her with excitement, but now the ship’s dimly lit corridors felt more like a labyrinth of looming dangers. The memory of the Devil Dog surfaced again, its dark form threatening to engulf her thoughts. Tears welled in her eyes as she muttered, “Fear…doesn’t…suite me.”

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

“In-qui-si-tive,” a robotic voice echoed, cutting through the stillness.

Amelia’s heart jumped, her eyes darting to the source. The lanterns flickered, casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the walls. The Devil Dog’s ticking shadow receded, replaced by ghostly memories of her Yardrat family and other miners—figures from a past that urged her forward toward a goal she didn’t yet understand.

At the end of the corridor, shadows seemed to swirl and dart from corner to corner. Overlapping whispers filled the air, growing louder as she approached until a bright blue light shone from beneath a door just a few steps away. Cautiously, she moved closer, each step heavy with trepidation.

“Rick!” Amelia called, panic rising in her voice. “Can you invent some better lights? And maybe a sign too.”

“INQUISITIVE?” the voice responded, now a ghostly wail, followed by another flash of blue light from under the door.

“Push a Yardrat!” she muttered, puffing up her chest as if to summon courage. “You blast the mines!” Her steps were careful, her movements precise as she approached the door, her scowl deepening.

The door was unlike any other on the Pappy Long Legs—large, wooden, circular, with an orange iron handle and a metallic owl emerging from it. The owl’s dark metal eyes seemed to follow her, its body poised as if ready to leap from the door at any moment. Above the owl, the number two was etched alongside the words, “Perch by night. Stalk the day.” Another inscription, in a language foreign to her, added to the door’s mysterious allure.

She leaned in, her curiosity piqued by the door’s design. The wood was glossy and inlaid with ornate gems, unlike anything she’d seen before. The owl’s eyes, made from an unfamiliar material, reflected the dim light in a way that made them seem almost alive.

“You are inquisitive… like me,” a voice whispered from behind her.

“By the—!” Amelia yelped, spinning around, her fist instinctively ready to strike. She found herself face-to-face with a small metallic being. Its square-shaped head was adorned with tiny rotating cogs and wheels, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light, and its mouth a simple round hole, like a mechanical walking jack-o-lantern.

“Down in the Conkle, I’ve seen all sorts of automatons,” Amelia panted, trying to steady her breath. “So what’s your speed, little guy? Dancin’ or smashin’?” She lowered herself to the robot’s eye level, torn between fear and fascination.

“I am… Looking… For… Friend,” the robot replied, its eyes glowing with a hint of emotion.

Amelia straightened, taking a cautious step back as the robot—Roy—opened its head to reveal a tiny gyrocopter. She watched, bewildered, as it began to hover before her, its metallic limbs hanging limp.

“Only moles make friends in the dark,” she teased, trying to mask her nerves.

“And… Owls?” the robot pondered, its head tilting in a jerky motion toward the door beside Amelia. “Owl… Like… Dark.”

“Maybe, little automaton…” Amelia sighed, relenting. “Mind guiding me to my room? Or at least the hot tub?”

The robot didn’t answer immediately, its body twitching in what seemed like an idle dance. Something in its eyes—like the first Roy she’d encountered—looked almost human, radiating a sense of innocence.

“Please… Away from Owl… To home,” the machine suddenly exclaimed, launching into another joyful dance, its arms spinning wildly. “Orders. Orders. Orders.”

“Away from Owl?” Amelia repeated, her suspicion growing as she glanced toward the door beside her.

“Roy… Life… Inside… We… Roy… Many… Many,” the robot explained cryptically. “You… Can… Be… Roy.”