The Iron Tempest loomed above the docking station like a beast at rest, its hull a patchwork of steel and riveted plates. Smokestacks belched thin trails into the night sky, and the hum of Etherium engines pulsed through the air like a heartbeat.

Rez adjusted the stiff collar of his stolen uniform, keeping his head down as he followed Kellen and Lyra toward the boarding ramp. The crates they carried—filled with forged supplies—added weight to their disguises. The forged papers Mira had given them had gotten them past the outer checkpoints, but now came the hard part: stepping onto enemy ground.

Kellen strolled ahead like he belonged there, playing the part of a seasoned deckhand. Rez kept his grip tight on the crate, his fingers brushing the hilt of the short sword strapped to his side. Beneath his coat, small pouches of alchemical reagents jostled against black powder pistols. If things went south, he’d be ready.

A gruff pirate at the ramp eyed them suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“Resupply crew,” Kellen said, producing their forged manifest with a practiced ease. “Captain’s orders.”

The pirate grunted, barely glancing at the document before waving them through. “Cargo hold’s in the lower deck. Move quick. We leave port in an hour.”

Rez exchanged a quick glance with Lyra before following Kellen into the ship’s interior.

----------------------------------------

Inside The Iron Tempest, the air was thick with oil, metal, and Etherium fumes. The hallways were narrow, lit by overhead lanterns that flickered with the ship’s movements. The hum of the engines vibrated beneath their boots.

They made their way toward the weapons bay, keeping to the shadows when they could. Kellen led the way, his movements silent and assured. He gestured for them to stop at the entrance of a large chamber, the doors slightly ajar.

Inside, the massive Etherium cannon dominated the space. Its long barrel gleamed under the dim lighting, thick cables running from its base to an array of humming generators. The sight made Rez’s stomach tighten. If the pirates got this thing operational, Cloud Pass wouldn’t stand a chance.

At the base of the cannon, a man in grease-stained overalls worked feverishly, his hands moving across control panels and exposed wiring. His movements were quick, but there was no enthusiasm—only reluctance.

“That’s our guy,” Kellen whispered. “The mechanic.”

Rez nodded. “We need to get him out of here before we set the charges.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Lyra stepped forward, muttering a quiet incantation. A faint shimmer of magic surrounded them, masking their voices from anyone outside the room.

Rez approached the mechanic cautiously, one hand on his sword. “Hey,” he said in a low voice.

The mechanic spun, eyes wide. He reached for a wrench—likely his only weapon—but stopped when he saw their uniforms. “You’re not pirates,” he whispered.

Rez shook his head. “We’re here to stop this thing before it ever fires. You’re helping them against your will, right?”

The man hesitated, then gave a quick nod. “Name’s Orren. The bastards have my daughter. If I don’t finish this cannon, they’ll—” His voice broke.

Rez clenched his jaw. “We’ll find her. But right now, we need to make sure this thing never fires. Step back.”

Orren hesitated, then moved away from the cannon’s base. Rez pulled a small vial from his belt and smashed it against the metal plating. A thick, sticky substance spread across the surface—an alchemical charge primed for detonation. Kellen moved around the cannon, planting explosives in key structural points.

Lyra watched the door, her fingers twitching. “We need to move fast,” she whispered. “We don’t have much time.”

As if summoned by her words, the door burst open.

A tall figure strode in, flanked by armored pirates. His presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air. Arvis, Captain Foundry’s second-in-command, was a mountain of a man, clad in reinforced leather and steel. His face was a twisted mess of scars, his left eye covered by a mechanical lens that whirred as it focused on them.

“Well, well,” Arvis rumbled, cracking his knuckles. “Thought I smelled rats aboard.”

Kellen’s daggers were out in an instant. Lyra raised her hands, magic swirling at her fingertips. Rez grabbed one of his pistols, aiming it directly at Arvis.

Arvis didn’t flinch. “You think your little firecrackers are gonna stop this ship? Cute.”

Before Rez could pull the trigger, Arvis lunged.

The force of the blow sent Rez crashing into a nearby console, his pistol clattering across the floor. Arvis turned, swinging a massive fist at Kellen, who barely dodged in time. Lyra hurled a blast of magic, but Arvis batted it aside, the energy fizzling against his reinforced armor.

Rez groaned, pushing himself up. His fingers closed around a glass vial—one of his alchemical bombs. He yanked the stopper off and hurled it at Arvis’s feet. The vial shattered, releasing a thick, acrid smoke that filled the room.

“Move!” Rez shouted.

Kellen grabbed Orren by the collar, dragging him toward the exit. Lyra followed, casting a shielding spell to deflect incoming gunfire from the pirates.

Rez stumbled after them, catching sight of Arvis through the smoke. The enforcer’s mechanical eye glowed red, tracking them even through the haze.

They burst into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind them.

“The charges!” Kellen gasped. “Detonate them!”

Rez reached for the detonator and pressed the switch.

Nothing.

His stomach dropped.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “Something’s interfering with the signal.”

A loud crash sounded behind them—the door was giving way.

“No time!” Kellen barked. “We have to go!”

Rez cursed but nodded. The cannon would have to wait. Right now, survival was the priority.

With Arvis and his men in pursuit, the team sprinted toward the nearest escape hatch. The mission had gone sideways, and now, The Iron Tempest remained armed and dangerous.