Jace spared a glance over his shoulder. Kinfild turned a crank and pulled a lever. Steam burst from a pipe above, then the pistons began to chug. The thrusters roared, and the dropship shot forwards.

The vessel obeyed Jace like a feral horse—not well. It bucked until he tightened his grip on the control yoke. A distant piece of machinery that he couldn’t name whinied until he tapped a flashing button on his console. He pulled upwards on the yoke. The dropship was lethargic, and didn’t respond quickly to the corrections.

They shot off through the checkpoint tunnel and blasted out through the misty airlock on the other side. After a second of wrestling the control yoke, Jace pointed the ship at the Wall’s gate.

A transmitter crackled to life in the center of the control panel. First came a burst of static, then a man’s harsh, rough voice: “Dropship Aur-Fifteen, you are not cleared to proceed. Return to your checkpoint immediately.”

The massive portcullis of the gate in the Wall began closing, but not fast enough. The dropship shot through and launched into the void beyond. A cluster of small starships moved to intercept him, but Jace made sure to point the dropship’s prow towards open, empty space. Kinfild could adjust their course later.

The dropship shook forcefully. The crash harness bit into Jace’s shoulder, and still, he feared he might rip through and fall out of the seat. He pressed his feet against the deck. The checkpoint’s transmission ended—not even static—and the cabin lights dimmed. The half-open cabinets behind him rattled.

“They’re shooting at us!” Kinfild shouted. “The hyperdrive is fully charged, and the jumpstart accumulator is full!”

That was all they needed. Jace gripped the silver lever in the center of the dashboard and rammed it forwards. The stars outside melted into vibrant gold light, and he was forced back into his seat as they accelerated.

Jace spent a few minutes staring blankly ahead, unsure of himself. But he took another deep breath to calm his nerves, then released the control yoke. He unbuckled his crash harness and stood up, just in time to find Kinfild rushing into the cockpit. The Wielder dashed around, flipping switches and turning dials. He opened a small hologram (which projected outwards from the dashboard) and tapped at it.

After a half-minute of furious adjustments, Kinfild dropped his arms and stepped back. “We’re headed back to Lyvarion. I’ll pick up the Luna Wrath.”

Jace nodded.

“And now you have gotten all of the Watchmen angry at us,” Kinfild snapped.

Jace crossed his arms. “It wasn’t going to end well no matter what.”

“You don’t know that, though, do you? I was spinning up a lie while you panicked.”

Jace grimaced. Maybe it would have worked, maybe it wouldn’t have. He couldn’t trust it to chance. “But we’re fine now. We survived.”

“Fine?” Kinfild chuckled. “No, no. You have just defied the Watchmen. Whether you revealed your elemental alignment to them or not, they will hunt for us.”

Jace didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say, or if it would change anything.

“We’re heading back to Lyvarion,” Knifald said, anger in his voice. “You have nine hours or so, if the Splitwinds favour us.”

Jace was still exhausted, so he settled down on one of the cots and shut his eyes. He figured he’d make use of the time, and while he needed a proper sleep, he figured he could cycle Aes while he slept, cycling it and giving it a hyperspace aspect. The breathing pattern and exertions of will were becoming more and more natural.

When he woke up, Kinfild told him that he had an hour left before they arrived. The Wielder said nothing else, and looked away from Jace with a cold and distant expression. Between smoking a pipe and shovelling starcoals into the furnace, he avoided conversation very well.

Jace returned to the bunk. He grabbed the Vault Core, activated it, then meditated himself back onto the muddy plane. At the very least, he could harvest more Aes. There were no more attribute shards to assign yet, so he waited until the floor fell away and dropped him onto an alien world.

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It deposited him in a city’s abandoned slum. Crumbling brick walls surrounded him, and distant, glowing towers rose high up into the night sky. He drew his Whistling Blade and held it at the ready.

He slashed through a crowd of vratghouls, cutting down as many as he could and drawing in their Aes before they became too numerous. He sheathed his blade, then used a hyperdash to pass unhindered to the other side of the crowd—and through a thin brick wall.

On the other side of the wall, he arrived in a small, roofless hall. An enormous elite vratghoul awaited him, and this time, he had no way of ramming through it or driving any of his weapons in with extra force—while in hyperspace, he’d pass right through the beast.

He reset his techniques with the Cleanse card, then tossed his Whistling Blade high up in the air while he switched his cards back to the hyperdash. As the blade began to fall, he used a hyperdash to catch it.

He phased through the vratghoul, then emerged above it. He caught the blade in a reverse grip, then stabbed it into the ghoul’s back. With a holler, the beast shook, trying to throw him off. He slashed through the back of its neck.

The ghoul collapsed, and Jace tumbled off its back, panting.

That worked better than anticipated. Not even a scratch. He rolled flat on his back and spread his arms out wide.

The Vault faded, depositing him on the muddy plain, and his chest heated up—a flow of Aes rushed into him.

But they had to be getting close to their destination, now. He woke himself up, wrenching his mind out of the dreamspace, then rolled off the cot and walked to the dropship’s central hall.

Kinfild still stood in the engine room. Jace questioned whether he should offer his assistance, but when he saw the Wielder's abrupt movements and heard his annoyed huffs, he figured that it would be better to stay out of the way. Rather, he headed to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot’s seat.

A moment later, a soft beep blared out of the control panel. A new white light was flashing on the dashboard—amidst all of the other red specks of warning. “Kinfild!” he shouted. “Is that a problem?”

“We are exiting hyperspace!” the Wielder called. “I will need you to take us down to the surface.”

“That…that can be arranged.” Jace gripped the control yoke with one hand. “But you’ll need to tell me where to go.”

The dropship shook, then a boom rolled through the hull. The light washed off the viewscreen.

Ahead was the purplish-blue planet. It filled the viewscreen; he only barely caught glimpses of the black void at the edge of the glass panel. “That was close,” he muttered. Then, loud enough that Kinfild could hear him, he yelled, “Where now?”

“There’s only one continent!” the Wielder returned. “Head to its northernmost tip, and fly east across the plains—until you reach the forest. From there, the Candleshire should not be hard to spot.”

“I thought they didn’t like starships!”

“Now is not the time for tact. Aur-Six will not have cared where he set the Luna Wrath down, and neither will we.”

Jace stared at the planet ahead. In a few seconds, he spotted the continent that Kinfild referred to—a heap of lavender steppes and mountains, and near the equator, broad deserts.

Again, the dropship shook, and this time it was more violent. Jace scanned the control panel in front of him. Warning lights flashed, sparks raced across the panel, and steam poured from a tube overhead. He squinted, trying to parse what little information he could make out. After a few seconds, he gave up trying to figure it out for himself, and so he asked, “Kinfild? What was that?”

“The repellers are at half power and cannot sustain an orbit. Sub-light thrusters are functional, but won’t break us from the planet’s hold either.” Kinfild paused. “We are losing control. I just need you to put us down in one piece.”

“I don’t imagine the shields have magically recharged?”

“Unlikely,” Kinfild called. Then, he added, “Hold tight! We’re passing through the planet’s ring.”

A fist-sized chunk of debris collided with the viewscreen, and cracks spread from the impact point.

“Beneath the seat!” Kinfild shouted. “Compressed sealant! Use it!”

Before the spiderweb of cracks could grow, Jace bent over and snatched a silver canister from beneath the pilot’s chair. He pushed a switch on the back of the spray nozzle. A plume of sticky sealant splattered the viewscreen, sealing it.

With the risk of immediate implosion gone, Jace leaned as close to the viewscreen as he could. His eyes strained against the darkness. Ahead of them, in the shadow of the planet, a field of dark lumps floated—the planet’s ring. It was almost like Saturn’s ring, but smaller and thinner.

Another rock pelted the dropship, and a screech of ripping metal ran through the hull. Jace gripped the yoke with both hands and wrenched it to the left. The dropship skirted around a larger asteroid, but just barely. He would have given anything to switch seats with Kinfild, but he couldn’t take his hand off the controls for even a second without dooming them to a deadly collision.

Just get to the surface, he told himself. Just get to the surface.