Nestor ran. He hardly noticed Elijah taking on an unfamiliar man out of the corner of his eye, definitely didn’t stop when Elijah called his name and his attacker froze. He just needed away.

How could she still be alive? After all of this time?

He ran until his lungs ached and his muscles, still not fully recovered from being sick, felt like they’d give out from under him. He sank to his knees, pressing himself into the trunk of a great oak and panting against his exhaustion. His heart roared in his ears and he drew in a deep breath to try and calm it.

“Ne--Nestor?” A familiar voice broke in. Sylvie stood there, hands on her knees and breathing heavily. “Are you ok?”

He swallowed and turned away from her, not wanting her to see the tears running down his face.

“Hey.” A gentle hand touched his shoulder as Sylvie settled down directly in front of him. He shrugged her off. “Nestor,” she said, her voice a little sharper. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he did.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, her eyes searching his instead. He stared back. A dull ache had settled into his chest and his wrist itched in a way it hadn’t in years.

“You don’t have to be here,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

Sylvie tilted her head. “Maybe not, but I’m here anyway. Nestor…what’s wrong?”

“I ruin everything I touch,” a whimper touched his voice and he looked away. “Everyone…everyone around me dies!” He closed his eyes, but the moment he did, all he saw were bright flames and thick clouds of smoke that threatened to choke him.

“That girl--she’s your sister?” Sylvie asked, tearing him out of his trance.

“I thought she was dead,” he whispered. He swallowed, remembering the blotchy scarring that covered her face. She had his same dark hair, same brown eyes, and the same mark of his mistakes.

“Then…this is a good thing, isn’t it? You have her back--” Sylvie cut off as Nestor started to shake his head.

“Did you see those scars? I’m the one who gave them to her,” he said bitterly. “I killed our parents and made us orphans, don’t you see? I’m a monster.”

“I don’t believe that,” Sylvie said. “She wouldn’t have tried to find you if that were the case.”

“Oh right. I became a pirate and robbed her village. Let’s add that one to the list. And then I killed our captain!”

“Hey, you didn’t kill--”

“I might as well have! Don’t you see? Everyone around me ends up hurt or worse.” He clenched his hands into fists tight enough that he could feel the thin slivers of blood forming under his fingernails. Good.

“Stop that,” Sylvie said, her tone hardening. She took his hands in her own. “You’re not the one to blame. You didn’t kill your captain, some deranged lunatic did that.”

Nestor glared at her, she didn’t understood, how could she?

“Nestor,” Sylvie said softly. “What happened to you?”

He drew in a deep breath as the full weight of everything settled on him once again. “I grew up in Apolia,” he started. A lump formed in his throat and he had to swallow it back as Sylvie nodded her encouragement. “My…my parents were alchemists, really good ones, I think. They were researching something special, I don’t remember why or what it was, just that it was shiny and I wasn’t supposed to touch it, and--” he broke off with a choked sob.

“You touched it,” Sylvie guessed.

He nodded. “I snuck out of bed to go and look at it. My mum always had it wrapped in a cloth and when I pulled it back it--it exploded.” For a moment he was back there, being thrown into the kitchen from his parents' workshop. He saw the hungry flames engulf the central steampipe, heard the crashing upstairs as the entire steam network combusted.

Sylvie squeezed his hands and he met her gaze again. “I ran, Sylvie,” he whispered. “Our home went up in flames and I ran. All this time I thought there were no survivors.”

“And now your sister is here.”

“Athera lived somehow.” Her name felt strange on his tongue. “But our parents still died. I killed them.”

“You were a child, it wasn’t your fault,” Sylvie said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Every child would have run in your place.”

“I doubt Athera would have,” he laughed bitterly. “She was always stronger than me.”

“And now she’s back. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I’m not…I’m not a good person Sylvie. How do I face her with that? She doesn’t know that I killed our parents, she doesn’t know that I’m the reason she has those scars.” he pulled his hands from Sylvie’s grasp and pulled off his copper cuff. The scarring from that explosion was still there, silvery white and so insignificantly small compared to what his sister bore. “How long before I get her hurt again?”

“Do you miss her?”

He was so taken aback by Sylvie’s question that he froze completely. “When I think about it,” he admitted. “I don’t remember much from back then.”

“Then don’t hurt her by abandoning her,” Sylvie hesitated. “Look Nestor, you and I, we’ve both lost people, but you have the chance to get one of them back. Don’t throw that away.”

“You didn’t kill--”

“My parents died from the fever,” Sylvie said, her eyes starting to glisten. “Where do you think they caught it?”

Nestor stayed silent and Sylvie went on. “A few years ago, I got sick. Really sick. By all rights they should’ve sent me to a quarantine shelter, but they didn’t. Said I’d have a better chance if we all quarantined at home…they were right…but it cost them their lives.” A tear broke free, catching the faint moonlight as it fell. She wiped at her eyes and met Nestor’s gaze. “Would you say that it’s my fault?”

He knew what she was trying to do, but couldn’t resist answering. “Of course not, that’s not the kind of a thing a person can control.”

“And yet I still blame myself everyday. Maybe if I had left on my own they wouldn’t have gotten sick. I know it’s not my fault, but it still feels like it is.”

He was torn in that moment, half wanting to comfort her, half wanting to laugh. “I could have stayed in bed,” he said softly.

“What child would?” Sylvie asked. “Maybe there are things we could have done differently, but that’s in the past and this is the now. We can’t live there, the people we’ve left wouldn’t want us to.”

Nestor sighed. “How do I face her?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Sylvie replied. She moved to his side and leaned in against the tree. “I don’t think it matters that much in the end.”

He nodded and stared ahead at the city walls. “I’m not the person she knew,” he said, mostly to himself.

“I’d hope not, seeing as you were a child.”

He managed a laugh. It felt good, in the same sort of way the ache in sore muscles feels good. They fell into silence, watching a brilliant full moon rise over the sweeping arches of Skystead.

“Do you want to head back?” Sylvie asked after a few minutes.

“Not really. Not yet. Do you?”

“No.” She stretched her arms over her head. “I want to check out the shop, care to come with me?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The tiniest prick of anxiety sparked in Nestor. He had been hoping to keep Sylvie away from the city for at least a couple of days. She had seemed to be enjoying the ship, but, well that was before his sister had announced her existence. Maybe the city would be quieter--especially at night. “What about your uncle?” he asked as he stood. “Don’t we risk running into him?”

Sylvie glanced at the sky, seeming to clock the positions of the stars. “He’ll be in bed, we shouldn’t have to worry about that.” She started off for the city walls, apparently going whether Nestor was coming or not.

Sylvie led them to the tree he had shown her as if she had been doing it her entire life. She leapt up gracefully, hoisting herself up with deceptive strength. Nestor followed after casting a wayward glance to make sure no one was watching them.

He passed her halfway up and leapt onto the roof the tree hung over, Sylvie followed a moment later.

“It’s a good thing this building is just a shop,” she muttered as she gazed around her.

“They would just think we were raccoons if it weren’t,” Nestor said absently. Sylvie raised an eyebrow. “Really big raccoons,” he amended.

She grinned and slid down the building’s steampipe to the streets below. Unlike the crew, Sylvie preferred walking on the streets and not leaping from roof to roof. Sensible, but it took half the fun out of it.

“It looks normal,” Sylvie said softly from his side as they came to the shop. Its stained glass dome glistened in the pale moonlight and he could say the pale rainbows it cast through the windows.

“Did you think it wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know, I guess maybe a little,” Sylvie said as she pulled a key from her pocket. She quietly unlocked the door and beckoned for Nestor to follow. “Part of me thought Henry might just start smashing things.”

Inside, the shop looked exactly the way they had left it, down to the scattered remains of the Sylvie’s automaton project on the floor.

“I guess he didn’t step in,” Nestor said as Sylvie bent over the pile.

“Too busy dealing with the hangover,” she snorted. She plucked an onyx gem from the pile and inspected it. “He might not have even noticed I’m gone yet.” She straightened with a sigh. “Oh well, come on, let’s grab some of these parts.”

“Grab…some parts?”

“Yeah, I need something to tinker with back at the ship. Grab anything you like while you're at it, it’ll drive Henry crazy.”

“You’re asking me to steal from your shop?”

“You’re a pirate aren’t you?” Sylvie barely glanced at him as she tucked a small leopard in her bag. “Think of it as stealing for a good cause.”

He shook his head and took an owl from the shelf. It was small and had a slight dent on the back from where it had been dropped. One of Sylvie’s pet peeves. A few minutes later Sylvie's pack was bulging with her tools and various scrap parts that she had grabbed.

“That should do it,” she said, nodding in satisfaction. “Keep me from going crazy at the very least.”

Nestor glanced up at the domed ceiling. It was hard to tell through the mosaic of color, but he could just make out a silvery light that he thought was the moon. “Do you want to put off heading back to the ship for just a little longer?”

Sylvie shrugged. “What do you want to do?”

“Just…walk,” he said lamely. “I bet the skyways are gorgeous this time of night.”

“You’re trying to delay going back, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.”

Sylvie shook her head. “Fine,” she said, exasperated. They headed back out, Sylvie taking care to lock the door behind them.

“You know, I think that’s the third time I’ve used this,” Nestor said, mostly to himself.

“Fourth. I brought you through it when you were sick.” A bit of the night wind caught a strand of Sylvie’s hair and she tucked it back behind her ear. “Now that was a night. It took me forever to drag you back here.” A grin began to tug at the corner of her mouth. “I’m pretty sure old Mariah thought I had just killed someone.”

Nestor knew better than to ask for details at this point. The last time he had tried Sylvie had described his vomit to him. She was fond of that.

They continued chatting as they made their way up to the skyway. It was quiet--the dead hour where almost everyone can be found in their beds, regardless of status as a night owl or early bird.

“It’s beautiful,” Sylvie said as they walked past an old cathedral--the same one Nestor had been using to spy on Stelart.

“You should see it from above.” It wasn’t hard to spot his hiding spot from the ground, a nook just next to one of the spires.

“You spend a lot more time on roofs than is healthy,” Sylvie said.

“People don’t look up. It’s a good hiding spot.” It had been one of the first lessons Amos had drilled into him. Back then Amos had mostly worked with him on the small things like pickpocketing or being a distraction. Those days felt worlds away.

Sylvie walked over to the edge of the skyway and leaned against the railing. The fields looked like patches of some earthen quilt from so high above them and the forest in the distance looked more like a shadow than anything distinct.

Nestor joined her. The moon shone down on her, turning her blonde hair almost silver in the pale light. “Do you remember when you asked me what it was like to fly on the airship?” he asked.

“Freedom,” Sylvie said softly.

“I…yeah, how did you know I was going to say that?”

She turned to him with a grin playing around her lips. “Because I’d be disappointed if you said anything else.”

Nestor leaned against the railing with a sigh. “It is freedom. Freedom and uncertainty. Now I feel like we’re just stuck with the uncertainty.” He held his hand out towards the woods, as if he could grab the airship and force them back into the skies where they belonged. Before Amos had died and when he didn’t have to tell Athera who was really responsible for their parents’ deaths.

“This city feels like a cage sometimes,” Sylvie agreed.

Nestor swallowed, suddenly certain of what he needed to ask. “The ship is grounded for the winter,” he started. “I don’t know where we’ll go without Captain Amos, but come spring, why don’t you come with us?”

Sylvie turned sharply and he almost backed away. Her eyes searched his for a moment. “Do you think your crew would take me?”

He couldn’t quite resist a bitter laugh as he remembered what Elijah had told him. “Honestly Sylvie, they might take you over me right now.”

“Right,” Sylvie said, starting to rock back and forth on her toes. “I can hide some money from the shop until spring. Oh! The shop…I guess I’d be leaving that behind, wouldn’t I?”

“Is…is that a yes?”

Sylvie shot him a disdainful glance that she couldn’t quite hold. “Of course it’s a yes! Come spring and we’ll leave this miserable city.”

“Come spring and you might be able to leave your cell if you’re lucky.”

Nestor whirled around to find himself looking into the cold eyes of a sneering man. He didn’t recognize the man’s shaven head or bushy eyebrows, was this a thief? Were they about to be mugged? He felt a flash of derision. A thief that announced their presence was hardly skilled enough to call themselves such.

Sylvie stiffened at his side and the fear that Nestor should have felt from the start crashed into him full force. A thief willing to announce their presence was someone willing to get violent. How was he supposed to get her out of this?

“Jamison?” She gasped.

Who?

The man grinned. He had perfect teeth that defied his crooked nose. This was a man with both access to wealth and a penchant for fighting. “Aye Miss Sylvia, you’ve had your uncle mighty worried.”

“I’m not going back,” Sylvie said, but her voice trembled slightly.

“I’m afraid you are, Miss Sylvia. What kind of man would I be if I let your uncle’s ward leave the safety of the city?” He took a step forward as he spoke, his hands partially outstretched.

Bad. This was bad. The man had on an expensive coat with deep pockets--no. Not pickpocketing, that wasn’t going to help right then!

“What’s in it for you?” Nestor blurted out. The heat he felt in his cheeks and the tips of his ears had him grateful for the low light.

“Excuse me?” the man asked.

“What’s in it for you?” Nestor repeated, trying to keep any sign of fear out of his voice. “It’s not like Sylvie’s uncle can pay you much.”

The man laughed, once again exposing his pearly white teeth. “Boy, I don’t need money, I do this for fu--”

Nestor lunged, tackling the man around the waist. They crashed to the ground, the man thrown off balance.

“Sylvie, run!” Nestor cried out.

The man began to laugh beneath him. Skies, he hated that sound.

“You’ve got spirit, boy,” the man laughed. “They might be able to make use of you down below yet!” He sent his fist careening into the side of Nestor’s head with a sickening thud that he heard before he felt.

His vision swam together and some part of him was aware of Sylvie yelling at the man. Something grabbed his shoulders and he swung at it weakly.

“Ow! Nestor, come on,” Sylvie’s voice hissed in his ears. She pulled at him, trying to drag him to his feet, but he couldn’t quite get them beneath him.

“Nestor, huh?” the man’s voice drew closer. Nestor blinked the stars out of his vision to see the man casually striding towards them. “Quite the name for these parts.” The man pounced, batting Sylvie away and lifting Nestor as easily as if he were a kitten. He kicked at his captor, but all that did was earn him a harsh strike to the gut.

He gasped, choking on his own bile and the lack of oxygen making it to his lungs. He managed a painful cough and went limp in relief as his ability to breathe was restored.

“Well, Miss Sylvia, come along,” the man said.

Nestor smiled to himself. She’d be long gone by now. She’d know to run. Maybe she would even go to the crew and they would come and rescue him.

“Miss Sylvia, I’m not a patient man. Don’t keep me waiting.”

No. Was she still in earshot? “Run,” Nestor croaked. He saw white as blinding pain once again slammed into his skull.

“Stop!” Sylvie shrieked. “Just…just leave him alone.”

Something cold was pressed to Nestor’s throat. “Scream like that again and I’ll make sure he can’t,” the man threatened.

“I won’t, just don’t hurt him!” Sylvie pleaded, far quieter.

Nestor managed to twist enough to see her. She was standing barely a few feet away, ghostly pale and with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Alright Miss Sylvia, if you would just follow me then.” The man began to head for the lower levels, apparently convinced Sylvie would come along. The clicking of her shoes told Nestor that she had moments later.

Just like that, he had ruined another life.