Between rounds of sweeping the deck and carrying around potted plants, Jace sat down to practice the basic cycling pattern Kinfild had taught him.

The Base-Essence Rotation was a simple pattern. When Jace visualized the Aes, the tendrils of energy stayed close to his core-cloud. Some of the foreign Aes, absorbed from quests and as a reward for killing darklings, hadn’t yet integrated into the rest of his Aes base—his total supply of spiritual power. As he circled around his body, it was called cycling.

The normal, pure-aspect Aes was golden in his faint perception of it, but the more he cycled it around his hypercore, it turned pale blue.

He couldn’t hold the cycling technique forever. It took willpower to move Aes, and a strong breathing pattern. He took breaks to sweep the deck and do manual labour for Kinfild, and he could feel the Attribute Shards starting to take effect. With each sweep, the shards directed a bit of Aes, feeding his strength and agility. When the deck vibrated and his feet slipped, he pressed them down harder, allowing his Resistance to take effect.

A shudder rolled through the Luna Wrath’s hull. The deck heaved higher than it ever had before. The tubes beneath the floor grates shook. A puff of steam from a vent nearly shot up into his face. Jace dropped the broom and kicked it into the corner.

Kinfild had gone to the cockpit, and Lessa was sleeping on the top bunk, her tail dangling lazily off the bed.

Jace stopped mid-cycle and looked to the cockpit. Kinfild sat in the pilot’s chair, seemingly unbothered by the disturbance. He tapped a button on the wall beside him every once in a while.

Just to be certain that the ship wasn’t about to fall apart, Jace ran back to the engine room and peered through a small hole in the door. Aur-Six still shovelled starcoals into the furnace, and the crankshaft still spun incredibly fast—so fast it hurt his eyes to look at.

“Everything is fine, Mr. Baldwin!” Kinfild called.

Jace spun around. He wanted to run, but he forced himself to walk back over to the cockpit. After sitting down, he put his hands in his lap and leaned back. He tried to concentrate on small things to keep his mind grounded, like the ornate upholstery on the seats, or the bodysuits of black fabric that hung from the wall.

“Like the vac-suits, hm?” Kinfild chuckled. “I brought them out just in case, but we won’t need them. We’re about to drop out of hyperspace, hence the rough ride. It’s standard.” He then laid a hand on a brass handle protruding from the ceiling. “Crash harness on, please.”

Jace pulled the harness over his shoulder, and just in time. The moment Kinfild pulled the handle back, the ship lurched. The golden light in front of the viewscreen whirled so fast that Jace’s eyes couldn’t trace it. Streaks liquified, undulated, then rolled off the flat viewscreen, leaving the vast darkness of space. If he recalled the galactic map right, he was looking to the west. There was only a splatter of luminous specks in the void.

To the galactic east, there was a curtain of magenta—pinpricks of stars and vast formations of dust. There was a star among them, closer than the others. That was where they were heading.

Jace leaned as far forward as he could. If there was anything dangerous outside the viewscreen, he needed to know about it. Not that he knew what danger would look like, but it felt right to do. There was only a wake of dust and sparks washing off the starship.

Apparently, the starship’s hypercore converted pure-aspect Aes to hyperspace-aspect Aes, and once it was converted, the hyperdrive couldn’t use it anymore. At least, that was how Lessa had explained it.

“This is the Aisèn system,” Kinfild explained. “It’s sparsely populated, save for a few villages. Aisèn Secundus, being a forest planet in the mid-ring, has little habitation—there are cheaper places to harvest lumber.”

By now, the system’s star was bright and unbearable to look at. Jace held out a hand to block it out. The Luna Wrath flew toward a green speck just ahead. As he watched, it grew to the size of a billiard ball, marbled with white and blue streaks. That must have been Aisèn Secundus.

“So neither of you woke me up?”

Jace turned around. The seat swivelled, but only a little. Lessa stood between the seats with her hands on her hips.

“And I thought it better to not wake someone like you,” Kinfild grumbled. He didn’t turn around.

Lessa sighed. “This was…ugh, it was the first time I’ve been in a starship, too. And first time in hyperspace, for that matter.”

“Sorry…” Jace whispered.

“Sit down, at least,” Kinfild said. Aisèn Secundus filled the entire bottom half of the viewscreen now, and they descended towards an emerald-green swath of forest. The atmosphere gripped the front of the starship, and a cup of flames formed around the viewscreen.

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Jace clutched the armrests of his seat. He swivelled forwards again. The two forces of gravity—the starship’s artificial gravity, and the planet’s increasing strength—pulled him in two directions. It wasn’t enough to rip him apart, but it was enough to scramble his stomach.

Lessa slipped back down into the seat behind, but she still peered out and stared ahead. “So what’s this Byseg Stenol guy going to tell us?”

“I’m not certain,” said Kinfild. He held the control yoke so tight that his knuckles were turning white. “I hope that an elder of the Crimson Table can help us understand the darklings’ behaviour, and perhaps offer some counsel. These are unprecedented times, and I fear things are only going to get worse.”

The Luna Wrath passed through a layer of cloud. Kinfild pulled up on the control yoke, and their descent became a gentle decline. The clouds rolled off the viewscreen, revealing a landing platform nestled high up in the canopy of the forest. It perched on metallic stilts.

Jace asked, “Get worse?”

“It can always get worse, Mr. Baldwin,” Kinfild scolded. “You are in a new world. Perhaps it was different where you come from, but here, evil does exist. And make no mistake: it grows more powerful every day.”

With Kinfild’s guidance, the Luna Wrath set down on the landing platform. He ordered speed adjustments via the telesignal, and brought the small starship to a near-halt. It hovered for a moment, before it settled onto its landing struts and exhaled a puff of steam. The shaking stopped, but the rumbles still echoed in Jace’s limbs.

Only once Kinfild unbuckled his crash harness did Jace throw his own off.

“Where are we going?” Jace asked.

“To the Hanging House,” said Kinfild. “I’d tell you two to stay behind, but I know you won’t. I may as well keep you in my sight.”

Jace and Lessa shared a glance, and she snickered. When Kinfild marched between them, they followed close behind him. First, he walked to the engine room and tapped on the door with his staff. “Aur-Six?”

The kyborg clunked affirmatively.

“Keep the furnace hot. I also need you to repair the jumpstart accumulator,” Kinfild instructed. “We will be back in a few hours—before nightfall.”

The kyborg chittered with understanding, then nuzzled up to Kinfild’s leg.

Kinfild patted his head, then said, “Thank you, buddy. You are not a fool, I know, I know.”

They stepped out of the starship and onto the concrete landing platform. It was windy, and Jace buttoned up his coat. They walked down a rusty metal staircase, which took them fifty feet down to the forest floor. A smaller platform awaited them. It was empty, aside from a rotting shed and some scattered leaves.

Kinfild pulled the doors of the shed open, revealing two hovering metal devices. They were as large as horses, though they were lower to the ground. They had a large main body of rusty wires and pipes, and a worn leather saddle atop. A single thruster and a set of steering vanes clung to the back of the main body.

Jace bent down, searching for wheels or mechanical legs, but he found nothing. It just hovered.

“Repeller-bikes,” Kinfild said. “Elder Stenol’s home is too narrow to land the Wrath in, but these are here for visitors—for those seeking Stenol’s knowledge.” He lifted a hatch just behind the saddle and peered inside. Jace did as well. There were still starcoals inside, and they still steamed. “These have been used recently.” He snapped his fingers. A technique card flickered to existence in front of him—a pristine, clean card—and he crushed it in his grip.

Jace locked onto the card before Kinfild crushed it. [Technique Card: Flame Snap (Common) (Attack) (Compatible Class Designation: Mage) (Compatible Aspects: Fire)]

He wasn’t able to pull a description out of it before Kinfild used it. A flickering flame appeared at the tip of the Wielder’s thumb. He dropped it into the coals. They sparked and popped with the flame, radiating immense heat. He slammed the hatch shut, then moved to the second repeller-bike.

“Do you know how to ride?” Lessa asked in a soft tone.

It took Jace a moment to realize that she was speaking to him. He assessed the vehicle. The handlebar was where he was used to holding a horse’s reins, and the saddle had creases and indents from where people had pressed their legs tight against the horse’s flanks. If that controlled its speed, then it would be close enough to riding a horse.

He looked over at Lessa. “Do…do you know how?”

“Mom had a repeller-bike, but she never let me ride it, and dad died before he could teach me to ride horses. I didn’t think you’d know either, so—”

“I do know,” he said, but the thrusters of the bikes roared with blue flame, drowning out his voice. “I know how to ride a horse,” he said, speaking much louder—almost a shout.

Kinfild scowled and looked back. “That’s not common for worldjumpers to know.”

Jace walked closer to the first repeller-bike and ran his hand down the saddle. “I learned to ride when I was little. Mom taught me to ride before she died.”

None of them spoke for a moment. The repeller-bikes drifted. Jace grabbed the handlebars and guided the vehicle out of the shed.

He couldn’t exactly bring himself to smile, but a touch of excitement and anticipation bubbled up inside him. There was at least something he could excel at here.

“You can ride with Mr. Baldwin or me,” Kinfild told Lessa, guiding the other repeller-bike out of the shed.

“Definitely not with you,” Lessa said. “I imagine you’d just dump me off in a river somewhere because it amused you.”

Kinfild chuckled. “Don’t give me suggestions.” He swung up onto the bike’s saddle, then gripped the handlebars. When he leaned right or left (even slightly) the steering vanes adjusted with him.

Jace hopped up onto the other bike. He gripped the handlebars and slipped his feet into the stirrups, then inched forwards when Lessa sat behind him. He leaned side to side to test the steering vanes as well. They responded to his commands instantly.

“Follow me,” Kinfild said. “The Hanging House is this way”—he pointed down a muddy path—“and I’d rather not be caught out in the middle of the night, especially in a forest like this.”

Without another word, Kinfild’s bike launched forwards, and shot off into the woods.

“Still trying to outrun us,” Jace muttered. “Can’t have that.”

He pressed his knees against the saddle. A piece of machinery clicked beneath him, and the thruster roared.

They took off.