Windust wasn’t the type of place you would choose to be born in.

It was a rugged, windswept land. A dusty place of overgrown wheat fields, rolling plains, and a sunbaked coastline that ran along the western sea. Scattered homesteads dotted the landscape, interrupted by the occasional rotting windmill.

The sense of decay was pervasive and absolute.

Thankfully, Petyr hadn’t been born here.

No, instead, I was brought to this shithole by force.

At present, Petyr stood on the grassy headland overlooking the beach, gazing out at the sea as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Lithe and brown-haired, with a red silken sash tied loosely around the waist, he knew he cut a dashing figure, not so much heartbreaker as heartcrusher.

Accompanying him was his would-be romantic conquest of the month, a lanky, long-faced farmer’s daughter wearing a modest grey dress — Jayne.

“Unfortunately, I think Dad is getting sicker every day…” said Jayne, dragging her boots across the dried grass at her feet, eyes out of focus. “If he doesn’t stop using hushslag, I don’t know what’s going to happen. What will we do if he dies? Mom can’t work. She’s way too sick. And my little brother? I have no idea how I’ll keep him safe from falling in with the bandits…”

Petyr tried to hide disdain and annoyance. Is she seriously bringing up family troubles at such a time? Give me a break.

This wasn’t why he’d brought her out here.

They’d trekked over two hours to get to a point where the frontier wilderness of the southern border began. Surely it wouldn’t all be for nothing…

Granted, Petyr’s main reason was to avoid the spots in town he frequented with other girlfriends which still remained far too attached to him to be reasoned with. Nevertheless, there was a hope that the long journey combined with the idyllic spot would make Jayne yield to his advances.

“We’ll help your father,” he said, forcing a caring smile. He placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping its warmth would be enough to reel her in. “I promise, I’ll protect you and your family no matter what happens, Jayne. You’re very important to me. I’d never let anything bad happen to you or your family”

Jayne raised her cool grey eyes uncertainly. “Do you mean that, Petyr?”

“Of course, my dear. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

Jayne blushed, her eyelashes fluttering. She lowered her gaze again, but this time out of embarrassment. “I had no idea you felt this way about me… I mean, I’m not one of those pretty girls…”

Ah, thank the heavens, it’s working. He could’ve breathed a sigh of relief.

Petyr took a step closer, his hand slipping over the curve of her butt — at least, whatever bit of curve she could offer. “Let’s just make today special, what do you say?”

She bit her lip and bobbed her head nervously.

There it was.

Victory.

Hard-earned? Maybe not. But victory nonetheless.

A familiar euphoric rush hit Petyr. Is there anything I can’t get them to do for me?

He raised Jayne’s chin to look into her glistening eyes, savoring the moment like a wolf about to strike.

Then, he puckered his lips, leaning in, rea—

Blackness.

Weightlessness.

Something struck the side of his face, sending Petyr reeling towards the edge for a few moments. “Petyr!” Jayne yelped, grabbing him by the arm just in time. One more lumbering misstep and he’d have gone down the steep side of the headland and rolled down until he hit the sands of the beach below.

The pain surged right after, hitting him like sledgehammer.

An electrifying jolt pinched the nerves in his teeth and spine. Explosive agony took over for a moment, tearing through his sanity, leaving him whimpering and trembling. Petyr tasted blood on his tongue and swallowed what was in his mouth in panic.

What?…

Everything throbbed. His feet were frozen to the earth as if they’d already been sucked below the ground. His arms felt suddenly heavy and poorly attached to his torso. One eyelid pounded violently along with the heart about to rupture in his chest.

Just as it felt like his body was about to give in and come apart like a doll’s, the agonizing surge peaked and began to subside…

What hit me?…

As his pain fell a little more, that question was followed by another, far more relevant one.

Who hit me?

Enraged, Petyr whirled and snapped his attention to the grassy field stretching behind him.

There she was.

Standing beside a bush, the bush she’d likely struck from…

Mora.

The red-skinned brat had her hands raised to her mouth in horror. She’d probably meant to aim at his torso and not his head. And she’d probably misjudged the damage she could do.

“You crazy hornhead!” shrieked Jayne. “What the hell did you do that for?”

Petyr knew why. The little oni wretch was in love with him; but she was eleven. What was he supposed to do with that?

The only way she could show her interest was by annoying, stalking, and torturing him.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Petyr didn’t want to think of what he’d do to her if she were within reach given the pain. Fortunately for her, he found it difficult to even move his tongue.

No beating is going to be enough for what she deserves.

Back when he lived in the capital, Petyr remembered wondering why people hated oni so much. The way they were treated like slaves or untouchables filled his child heart with empathy. It was wrong.

So he thought anyway. Now he was beginning to understand it…

At his side, Jayne gently comforted him. “Petyr, are you all right?”

“What do you think?” he snapped. His teeth throbbed still. Were they chipped? He ran his tongue over them to check.

Jayne stiffened. “Don’t take it out on me, I didn’t do anything.”

Why was she choosing to be so difficult, now of all times? Did she have any idea how much that hurt? How much it hurt still? What, was he supposed to cry to make it clear?

Mora stood there, still watching him. How long had she been following? Since he met up with Jayne? Since he left the house early in the morning? That little freak.

“When I catch you, you’ll wish you’d never been born,” he snarled.

Mora crossed her arms. “As if. You’ve never been able to catch me.”

“Because I’m not trying to catch you, hornhead! I want you to get away! To leave me be! But if you want it so desperately, I’ll tie a rope around your neck and hang you from a tree like you deserve.”

“Petyr…” Jayne sighed deeply, her eyes disapprovingly widened. “She’s just a child.”

Petyr considered whether to lash out or hold his tongue. He’d spent so much of the day’s energy wooing this peasant. And yet, there was that indignant gleam in her eyes, as if she had any right to address him or reprimand him. Who was the victim here, again?

“And you’re just a waste of my time,” said Petyr.

The flicker of hurt on her face was delicious. That’s what you get, he thought. How dare she try to judge him at such a time? In most civilized realms, an oni would be skinnd alive just for looking at a human the wrong way—Petyr was being super generous, all things considered.

Lips trembling, Jayne struggled to think of a good comeback.

Petyr preempted it and said, “What kind of a girl are you? Instead of being there from me when I’m hurt, you put me down.” It occurred to him only as he said it how weak and hurt he himself sounded. Damn it.

“Just because we get hurt doesn’t give us a right to give up our moral compass.”

“Strange thing, for a farmer’s daughter that smells like cow dung to bring up compasses. You’re never going to leave this place. It’s where your kind belongs.”

He hoped and expected the biting remark to send her reeling. Instead, Jayne appeared to grow before him along with her indignant fury. “You know what I find funny, Petyr? That you pretend you belong anywhere else yourself. How old were you when you said you left the capital? Four? Five? You’re seventeen now. Do you even remember being that young? You’re basically a grown man that’s spent his entire life here. You’ve lived here for longer than my little brother’s been alive. But you think you’re not of this place? Ha! You’re a part of Windust through and through, boyo. Down to how much of an bastard you are, just like every other scumbag around here.”

Him? A peasant? Was she out of her mind? Yes, he lived in Windust, of course, because here was where his father conducted business; but for her to imply that in any way made them equal, or similar…

Just where did she get off?

Before he could say any of this, she whirled and stormed off. “When I see you again, it better be with flowers and an apology.”

Panicking as he saw her heading off, Petyr had to improvise. “Apology? Here’s an apology. I’m sorry I ever wasted my time trying to entertain someone as ugly as you! Inside and out! I’ve been attacked today, almost killed, and you… You’re giving me lectures? You’ve got no soul!”

It was supposed to sound empowering, but in his current state, his weak and trembling voice could hardly carry the day in the way he hoped it would.

Jayne simply went further and further away, never turning, never adding anything.

Bitch, thought Petyr bitterly.

He reached up and gingerly touched the spot where the rock had smashed into his head. There was no bump, but he could feel a lump under his hair.

Mora saw him and frowned thoughtfully. “I wasn’t aiming for your head.”

“And yet, it did find my head. Great aim.”

Her eyebrows shot up. She hesitated for a moment, pursing her lips, then said, “Sorry.”

“What was that? I didn’t catch it.”

Mora stomped her foot down. “Nothing!”

The brattiness caused him to smile by himself. What an idiot.

As he watched her, he got the idea that it would be nice to be able to pin her down and make her apologize in earnest.

“Come here,” he said, holding out his fingers. “I want to show you something.”

Mora scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid? You want to punish me.”

Petyr shrugged. “Your loss.”

The trick would’ve worked on most kids her age, but the little she-devil had a bit more sense than that.

As he pretended to ignore her and not care, hoping she’d come around, he suddenly heard her say, “What’s that?”

“Huh?”

“Behind you.”

Petyr made a face. “Ha! Now who do you think is stupid?”

“I’m serious!” Suddenly, she ran up and joined him, looking out towards the sea. “Look, that’s a ship!”

To his surprise, it was.

The sun was halfway down, its redness bleeding into the distant waters. But there, far far away, he could see what looked like a cumbersome wooden ship making its way towards them.

“A galleon?” Petyr said aloud. “But there's no ports here. The whole area is dead.”

“Pirates have their own places to lie low in.”

It was a keen observation, especially for an eleven-year-old kid… For all her faults, the brat wasn’t stupid in the least.

Before could figure out why a pirate galleon was here in a barren wasteland like Windust, a second shape formed over the horizon.

But not on the sea…

In the air.

“It’s a skysail!” Mora screamed with frenzied excitement. “Petyr, it’s a skysail! Do you see it?”

He could see it, all right. Even back in the capital, skysails were far from a common sight. Sleek, elegant, often painted white and embellished with gold. Almost all of them were operated by the Soverne Republic, and a ticket to ride on one was vastly more expensive than going by water. Petyr had begged his father many times to take him on one, but they’d never had a reason to.

It ended up becoming an experience left over to be enjoyed in the future. Still, Petyr could imagine it. To see the world stretching below you, getting insignificantly smaller…

It must’ve been a rush.

And yet…

“Weird that a skysail would be all the way out here,” said Petyr with a frown. “We’re nowhere near the capital. And there’s nowhere they’d need to go that would take them through Windust. At least, I’ve never seen any pass by here before…”

One thing he had not considered, though both galleon and skysail were in view, was that they could be in any way connected. In his mind the two were wholly separate: one constrained to water, the other exclusively bound to the air.

From the bottom of the skysail, what looked like a large gleaming metal cannon slid out, probably twenty times the size of any of the multiple cannons held on the galleon below.

They’re… attacking?

Petyr barely had time to process the idea. Why exactly would a skysail be attacking a pirate galleon? He hadn’t even heard of a Soverni skysail being equipped for combat. Besides, how could water-bound pirates ever be a threat to them? It made no sense.

For a moment, nothing appeared to happen—just the skysail’s silent, unhurried pursuit.

Then the galleon below exploded, shattering like ice crushed underfoot.

Nothing had shot out of the cannon that Petyr could see, nor had there been any sound…

How? How it did do that?

It wasn’t like the galleon had been blasted by a cannon at all… more like a massive invisible weight had slammed into it with a single blow.

One second, there was a ship. Then you blinked. Only splintered galleon bits spread out and drifted across the surface of the sea like a splattered insect.

Petyr stared, transfixed. He had never seen such devastating power, and for a fleeting moment, he felt small—a rare and unsettling sensation. Something can do that?

For the first time in probably half a decade, he was actually awestruck. The blood drained from his face.

He stared at the destroyed galleon, gulping dryly, wondering what the hell it was he’d just witnessed.

Two things Petyr knew with near certainty.

One, there was no way that galleon had been unmanned.

Two, there was no way anything or anyone could’ve survived that.

The skysail’s cannon slipped back into its hull. It sailed elegantly along the wreck for a few more moments, as if admiring its work, then it turned around and flew back over the horizon.

Then it was gone, leaving behind the obliterated carcass of the galleon that spread out over the bloody evening sea.

Mora, as thoroughly dismayed as Petyr, tugged on his sleeve innocently. “Hey, Petyr… What was that?”

Petyr had never known her to sound afraid, not even when threatened, but she clearly was now.

What was that? I have no idea.