Gray light pushed over the horizon. The plateau edge cut a dark line against it. Below, near the cliff base, village huts showed as darker shapes against the gravel outskirts. Wind turbines atop the plateau turned slow, a distant creak... groan... carried down on the breeze. Waves crashed against the rock shore, a steady pulse beneath the wind. The air held the tang of salt, the smell of damp stone.


    Anna stood beside the parked airship, Cloudchaser, just outside the workshop shed. Wind tugged strands of loose blonde hair across her face, cold against her skin. Its hull plates – some patched, some showing streaks of wear – caught the dim dawn sheen. Her leather jacket creaked as she shifted her weight, adjusting the heavy backpack strap digging into her shoulder. Inside the pack: tools, folded cloth, the hard edges of the diary, the dense weight of the crystal.


    Her unbandaged hand moved, calloused fingers brushing the airship''s flank. Cool metal met her skin. Patched canvas stretched taut over wing frames. Cold brass fittings felt smooth beneath her fingertips. Her gaze ran along the scratched windshield of the cockpit. His hand steady on the yoke. The faint memory-flash – warmth, vibration – gone as quick as it came.


    "Check-up," she muttered, the sound a low rasp snatched by the wind. Her boots struck the wooden deck planks – clang, clang – the noise sharp against a low rumble rolling in from the hazy horizon. Thunder, faint. She climbed into the cockpit.


    Oil scent, aged leather smell filled the small space. The pilot''s seat cushion groaned as her weight settled onto it. Her hands moved over the control panel. Wrench clicked against bolt heads. Metal scraped faint. Turn. Click. Her gaze flicked to the engine gauges – brass dials gleamed dull. Needles held steady. The rotors'' low hum vibrated up through the seat, through the deck plating.


    A faint upward curve pulled at her lips. Her eyes moved to the windshield again. Outside, the sky held thick, rolling clouds, dark gray along their lower edges, churning slow. The thunder rumble sounded again, closer now. She looked back at the gauges. Reached behind her for the backpack. Leather creaked as she pulled it forward.


    The storage compartment latch beneath the seat clicked open. A narrow space lined with dented metal. She slid the backpack inside. Pushed it snug. Secured the strap. Buckle clicked shut. Leather edge of the diary showed. Faceted crystal glinted dull beside it. Her fingers brushed the panel beside the compartment. Pat. Thud. Hand lingered near the yoke. Fingers brushed the worn grip.


    She stepped back onto the deck. Wind hit harder here, sharp, cold. Canvas wings strained against rigging, ropes groaning. Air felt heavier, metallic tang sharp against the salt smell. Static prickled faintly on her exposed skin. She glanced towards the horizon. Clouds massed into a dark wall, edges indistinct in the gray light. Thunder rumbled, a low, continuous vibration now.


    "Beat that," she murmured, breath misting faint in the chill. Her braid whipped against her collar. She turned toward the workshop''s open door. A dark rectangle against the shed''s corrugated tin wall. Fuel canister waited just inside.


    Cloudchaser sat solid behind her. Hull plates streaked with old grime, recent repairs. Wings held taut against gusts. Wind hummed through the rigging wires.


    Anna stepped through the workshop doorway. Boots crunched on the grit-covered floor. Sharp fuel scent cut the air. The shed interior held dim shapes – benches piled with gears, wire coils, a rusted rotor blade leaning against the far wall. Air felt thick, still. Tingling static sensation stronger here. She set her wrench on the nearest bench. Clink. Turned toward the corner.


    The dented metal fuel canister stood there. Faded label peeled at the seams. Her braid swung forward as she bent, hefted the canister. Weight pulled down on her arm. Liquid sloshed inside, a muffled sound against the wind''s rising moan outside. She paused. Glanced back through the open door. Cloudchaser''s wingtip trembled in a gust. Sky beyond looked darker, the cloud wall seeming closer. Thunder rumbled again, a deeper growl.


    "Quick," she muttered. Her boots scraped the floor as she carried the canister back outside. Gravel crunched underfoot. She reached the airship side. Set the canister down. Thud. Metal felt cold against her palm. Crouched beside the landing gear. Fingers found the fuel cap. Twisted. Rusted threads scraped harsh. Cap came free. Sharp fuel scent intensified. Mixed with the electric smell of the air. Static prickled her fingertips. She tilted the canister. Liquid gurgled into the tank. Steady stream. Glug-glug-glug.


    Wind gusted violent. Sent her braid lashing sharp across her cheek. Airship frame groaned loud overhead. Canvas snapped taut. A faint clink sounded nearby – metal on stone? Lost in the wind. Her hand tightened on the airship frame for balance. Brass fitting pressed cold against her glove. Tank gurgled, near full.


    Wind gusted hard. Anna''s braid whipped against her cheek. Salt stung her skin. Overhead, Cloudchaser''s wings pulled taut against the rigging; the frame creaked loud, the sound vibrating down through the hull. A faint clink sounded nearby – metal striking stone? The sound vanished into the wind''s moan, the steady crash of waves below. Anna kept her eyes on the fuel gauge, watched the needle rise. Her uninjured hand gripped the airship''s frame. Brass fittings pressed cold, solid into her palm.


    The low hum of the rotors pulsed through the deck plates. Wind howled, a rising sound against the engine drone.


    She straightened. Wiped her oily hands down the sides of her apron. The fuel cap clicked as she twisted it shut. Metal grated faint. The empty canister stood beside her boots, its dented surface slick with spilled fuel residue. She let out a breath; white mist plumed brief in the chill air.


    She glanced up at the sky. Rolling clouds formed a dark, unbroken wall across the horizon now, their lower edges churning, gray shading to near-black. Thunder rumbled, a low vibration felt through the deck. Cloudchaser''s hull stood solid behind her. Wind pulled hard at the patched wings, making the canvas snap sharp.


    She turned toward the workshop, boots scuffing gravel. Picked up the empty fuel canister, its handle cold in her bare hand. She carried it back inside the shed.


    Anna set the empty canister down inside the workshop. Its metal sides clanged against the gravel-strewn floor. The sound echoed flat in the shed''s interior. Fuel tang hung sharp on the air, thick here, mixing with the smell of old oil and damp metal. She wiped her palms again on her apron. Turned toward the open doorway.


    Gray light filled the opening. Wind gusted through, carrying the sharp smell of salt and ozone. Her blonde braid lifted, swayed across her shoulder. She stepped back outside.


    Wind hit her harder now, pulling at her jacket, finding gaps in the leather. Salt spray misted cold against her face. Cloudchaser sat just outside the shed. Its hull plates gleamed dully. Wings strained against mooring lines, creaking audible over the wind. Static prickled the air; her hair lifted slightly at her temples.


    She squinted towards the horizon. The cloud wall looked closer, darker. Jagged edges churned high up. Thunder growled, a deeper sound now, vibrating in her chest. Her gaze swept the sky, tracking the cloud movement. Cutting it close. She flexed her fingers, the scraped knuckles pulling tight.


    Gravel crunched nearby. The sound cut sharp through the wind. Her head turned fast. The lean man walked quickly up the path from the village edge. Boots kicked loose stones. His lean frame moved with a jerky energy against the wind. Shaved head caught the flat gray light. Patched jacket flapped loose around his wiry build. Hands stayed deep in his pockets. He stopped several paces away. Dark eyes met hers across the space between them. Then his gaze flickered away, towards the airship, then back. He pulled one hand from his pocket, gestured vaguely uphill. Breath puffed white as he spoke, voice tight, clipped against the wind. "Anna—mechanical issue... plateau. Storm close. Take me up? Quick?"


    She squinted at him. Wind whipped her hair across her eyes; she pushed it back impatiently. "Issue?" she asked. Her voice carried flat, loud against the wind. "What kind?"


    He shrugged. The movement looked tight, shoulders barely lifting inside the jacket. His eyes darted skyward again, toward the churning cloud wall. "Rig up there," he said, words fast. "Cable snapped. Stalled. Can''t climb—this coming in." His free hand gestured again, vaguely uphill. His fingers flexed, closed into a fist, opened again.


    Anna looked from his face to Cloudchaser''s waiting frame, then back to the bruised horizon. Thunder rumbled, closer, shaking the ground faint beneath her boots. The air felt cold, charged. Jamming cable car... slow climb... She exhaled, breath misting. Wings cut time...


    "Alright," she said. The word felt clipped against the wind. She nodded once. "Faster''s better." She turned, boots crunching on gravel as she strode towards the airship. Her hand closed around the wrench left on the shed''s outer bench. Cold steel settled into her palm.


    The lean man followed. His hurried steps crunched uneven behind her. Wind swallowed the sound as she reached the airship ramp. Her hand gripped the cold metal railing. She pulled herself aboard.


    Cloudchaser''s deck planks creaked under Anna''s boots. Rotor hum pulsed low through the wood. She settled into the pilot''s seat; the worn cushion groaned beneath her weight. Her gaze dropped to the compartment below the seat. Backpack snug. Strap taut. Leather diary edge showed beside the dull gleam of the crystal.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The lean man climbed in. His wiry frame hunched in the passenger seat. Patched jacket brushed the cockpit''s metal edge. Fingers tapped against his knee – tap-tap-tap – a faint sound against the wind outside.


    Anna flicked the ignition switch. Metal clicked. The engine sparked – caught – roared awake. A deep growl vibrated through the deck. Rotor hum intensified. The airship shuddered. Wind gusted sharp outside, pulling at the wings; frame creaked loud, vibration through the hull. She gripped the yoke. Calloused hands, steady. One last glance upward through the windshield – dark cloud edges churning, closing in. Thunder rumbled, a steady vibration now.


    "Hold tight," she said. Voice firm, loud over the engine drone. Grayish-blue eyes narrowed. She nudged the throttle lever forward.


    The airship lurched. Lifted off. Deck tilted steep. Wings sliced upward through sharp gusts. Below, village roofs shrank fast, blurring into textures against the ground. Plateau shadow stretched dark. Storm clouds pressed closer overhead.


    Anna rested her hands light on the yoke. Cloudchaser climbed. Engine growl pulsed through the deck. Patched wings strained against gusts; frame creaked loud. Wind howled against the cockpit glass. Beside her, a soft green light pulsed steady from the autopilot panel. A low, even hum came from the panel. Gauges showed altitude increasing. Her eyes scanned the needles, the green light, the view ahead. Target vector locked towards the plateau edge.


    Below, village shapes blurred into a dark smudge. Coastline a dull silver line against gray sea. Sky ahead bruised purple-gray; clouds rolled thick, churning masses swelling high. Lightning flashed within the cloud mass – a sharp, white tear. Afterimage burned brief behind Anna''s eyes. Thunder followed, a low rumble vibrating through the cockpit frame, through the yoke into her hands.


    Wind hit harder. Cold seeped through her leather jacket, raised goosebumps on her arms. Cheeks felt tight, cold. She squinted through the windshield''s scratched surface. "Storm''s closing fast," she muttered, the words tight in her throat, almost lost under the engine drone and wind howl. Her braid whipped against her shoulder, loose strands catching on the jacket collar. Her gaze flicked to the autopilot''s green light. Steady hum. Gusts slammed the hull. Thump. Thump. Plateau edge loomed closer, a dark, jagged line against the churning sky. Rotors whined higher as the ship climbed, wings cutting wind.


    Behind her, the passenger seat creaked faint. The lean man sat hunched, rigid. Fingers tapped faster against his knee – tap-tap-tap-tap. His shaved head gleamed dull in the dim light filtering through the storm haze. Dark eyes flicked sideways – towards the glowing autopilot panel, then snapped towards Anna''s back. A muscle pulled tight at the corner of his mouth. Anna shifted her weight in the pilot seat. Her stomach clenched tight, a low knot forming. Her hands hovered near the yoke handles. Airship shuddered. Another gust struck the port side – hollow THUMP. Jolt shot up through the seat, into her spine.


    Her brow furrowed. Her voice cut through the wind''s low moan, "What''s with you? You''re acting off—settle down." Her tone held a sharp edge. Her grayish-blue eyes narrowed as she glanced back at him, fingers brushing the autopilot controls. The lean man''s head snapped toward her, dark eyes flashing. His lips curled into a faint snarl.


    His hand darted to his belt, fingers pulling free a baton—a scavenged steel rod, dented surface slick with grime. It flashed in the cockpit''s flickering gloom as lightning stabbed the sky beyond. He swung it toward her. A guttural snarl ripped from his throat, jagged, harsh, slicing through the storm''s deafening roar. "Give it up!" he barked, his voice a raw, gravelly lash scraping the air. Sweat and something sour coated his breath; the reek blasted her face. The air hissed and split with a sharp whip as the rod arced, its tip a blur of steel near her ribs. The metallic tang of ozone flooded her nose. Her skin prickled from the electric charge in the air.


    Anna''s breath snagged in her throat. A cold jolt shot through her lungs. Her heart thundered against her ribs, a hard beat echoing the storm''s pulse. She twisted away, elbow snapping up—the baton grazed her jacket with a muted thwack. Leather groaned under the blow. Pain erupted beneath, a sharp, searing sting blooming hot, radiating through her side. Her tongue caught the faint coppery taste of blood as she bit her lip. The ache pulsed with every ragged gasp. Sweat beaded cold on her skin despite the cockpit''s icy draft.


    Thunder crashed, a deafening boom shaking the deck, the vibration turning the ache in her side white-hot. Her eyes widened. Her throat tightened. She stared at him—his face twisted, dark eyes wide, shoulders hunched. "The crystal—hand it over now!" he snarled. The baton slashed again with a sharp whip, cracking against her shoulder. A sharp thwack. Pain exploded through her arm—a hot sear burning to her fingertips. Muscle spasmed beneath the impact.


    "No games, Freedman—give it up, or I''ll break you!" His growl tore through the wind. His breath hit her face again, hot, sharp, reeking of sweat and metal. He leaned closer, baton raised. Anna grunted, body slamming back against the seat. Her hand flailed up, raw skin scraping air. The baton''s edge grazed her knuckles—stinging whap. Blood welled, thin crimson lines. She reached again for the controls. The autopilot''s green light remained steady.


    "What''s this about? It''s just a relic!" she choked out. Her ribs throbbed. Her voice broke. Lightning flared outside, bathing his snarling face in stark white. "A relic?" he spat, voice harsh. "That crystal''s worth more—" His words cut off into a sharp snarl. His breath was a sour gust, stinging her nose. "Why are you doing this? Stop!" she shouted, words tumbling fast. Thunder rumbled, shaking her bones. She shoved at him—elbow slammed his chest, dull thump. The impact sent a jarring shock up her bruised arm. He lunged again, baton swinging hard, striking her ribs with a sharp whip. A crack sounded deep inside her chest. Pain erupted, stealing her breath. She doubled over, vision swimming. "Get—off!" she rasped. Her boot kicked his shin, hard thump. Her calf muscle seized. She clawed at his arm, nails raking rough jacket fabric.


    Her chest burned, pain pulsing sharp with each breath as she reached for the yoke. The autopilot held firm. Cloudchaser climbed toward the plateau. The lean man pressed harder, baton jabbing her side, quick whap, bruising her hip. "Shut up and give it—now!" he growled. He swung again. The rod clipped her forearm—stinging thwack. Blood welled, hot, slick. Anna shoved back, elbow slamming his chest once more. Her boots slipped on the slick deck. Her heart pounded against the storm''s assault. Lightning flashed. The plateau''s edge rushed closer through the windshield.


    He stumbled, boots skidding with a gritty scrape on the slick deck. He lunged past her with a snarl, his wiry frame slamming the seat''s edge. His hand clawed at the compartment beneath. Leather strap snapped—harsh, splintering crack. Gunshot loud in the cockpit. The backpack spilled—tools clattered like loose bones. The meltdown crystal tumbled free, glinting amber and blue, a fractured point of light pulsing in the storm''s electric glow. Cool facets caught the light as it rolled toward him.


    "Got it!" he barked, voice a harsh growl. His calloused fingers snatched it—rustle of fabric. He stuffed it into his jacket''s grimy folds. Anna''s hand shot out, nails scraping air. A fleeting chill brushed her fingertips as the crystal vanished. A hollow ache spread through her chest.


    The lean man coiled at the side hatch, ripping a folded wingsuit from his back. The lightweight frame—canvas, metal—snapped taut. Sharp whirr. He yanked straps tight. "You''re done!" he spat, voice slicing the wind. His dark eyes glinted as he leapt from Cloudchaser mid-flight.


    Anna''s hand shot to the yoke, fingers trembling. She clawed at the autopilot switch. "No! You can''t—come back!" Her voice, a hoarse scream.


    His wingsuit snapped taut against the gusts. A dark silhouette sliced the storm''s haze, gliding away. One hand yanked a small, glinting device from his jacket—black box, edges worn smooth. It winked in the lightning''s stark flash. His lips curled into a smirk. His thumb jammed the button—faint click lost in the wind. A split-second later—ka-BOOM. Deafening roar ripped the air. Flames burst from Cloudchaser''s engine, a torrent of orange and gold. Blast heat slammed Anna''s face—blistering wave. Her braid singed—sharp, acrid stink. Smoke—charred oil, molten metal—choked her lungs. The airship shuddered violently. Its frame groaned. Spiraling downward.


    Flames erupted. Orange-gold torrent chewing the engine. Heat slammed Anna''s face—blistering wave. Hair singed—sharp, acrid sting. Smoke flooded the cockpit—scorched oil, burnt metal—choking, biting raw down her throat. The deck shuddered violent. Blast echo rattled brass fittings. THUD—her body slammed back against the seat. Bone grated. Fire ignited beneath her ribs, white-hot, crushing breath shallow, ragged. Vision blurred behind stinging tears. Sweat slicked her hands; the yoke slipped—gone. Cloudchaser lurched wild, sideways.


    A low sound tore from her throat. Engine gone? Bomb? Crystal gone—Horik, his companion!—betrayed—Her breath snagged on a sob. Dad''s voice echoed faint—She''s yours. NO! Cloudchaser pitched forward—nose plunging. Wind screamed around the frame. SNAP-SNAP—wings splintered loud, sharp cracks piercing the roar. The hull groaned, metal twisting, corkscrewing downward.


    "No!" The word ripped raw from her throat. Her singed hand clawed for the yoke, nails scraping cold metal. Yanked hard—muscles shrieked. Boots skidded on the deck—slick with spilled coolant? Ice? Legs trembled. Fractured ribs ground, fire spreading through her chest. She yanked again, desperate. Engine dead... Have to glide... steer... Her heart hammered against her ribs, frantic pulse against the searing pain. Downward spiral tightened.


    Wind shrieked through the breached cockpit glass, icy claws ripping at her jacket. Flames licked higher, orange glow casting jagged, dancing shadows. Heat pressed close, suffocating. Frame shuddered, groaned with each sickening twist. Wings tore further, canvas shredding, metal screeching. Outside—a spinning blur. Gray clouds streaked past. Horizon flipped—green, shadow, green again.


    Below—shapes sharpened through the haze. Huts. Steel roofs glinting dull. Stone walls. Lanterns swaying like fragile stars. The village! Her heart slammed against broken ribs. Breath hitched—sharp, terrified gasp. People down there—kassia—Miriam—Kaelen—can''t hit them—Can''t fail Dad—Not like this!


    She lunged—wrenching the yoke sideways. A cry tore from her lips. Ribs screamed—molten agony lancing through her. The airship lurched hard. Spiral shifted—wider—but the descent held. Ground rushed up—muddy fields, trees blurring. Come on, girl—fight! Teeth gritted, jaw locked against the pain. A brief lift—nose jerked up—then plunged again. Flames roared higher. Engine sputtered—a dying cough.


    Square below. Tiny figures scattering—startled birds fleeing the shadow. Sob tore ragged from her throat. Strength surged—adrenaline, desperation. Singed hand seized the throttle—metal searing hot against raw palm. Sizzling hiss. She shoved it forward—primal heave. Arm trembled violent, muscles bunching, straining. Lift the nose—RISE! "Come on!" The cry cracked, raw hope against metal groans. Cockpit rattled. Wings fought the wind''s grip.


    Veered sharp. Tail smashed metal—GRINDING CRUNCH—turbine blade sheared, fragments flying. Farmland rushed closer—muddy stretch gleaming wet through the smoke. Hold on... almost... Body braced. Tensed. Engines sputtered—faltered—died. Lift gone.


    CRASH—BOOM. Hull gouged earth. Skidding—splintering crack-crack of wood—shrieking SKREEE of metal tearing. Mud splattered high, wet arcs against the viewport.


    Her body lurched forward. Head CRACKED against the yoke—dull thud. Stars burst white behind her eyes. Pain exploded—blinding flash. Flames surged inward, swallowing the console. Orange glare roared. Diary spilled—leather struck the floor—pages flared bright—soft crinkle—curling black... ash.


    Fingers trembled. Grasped rough cloth—Dad''s oil rag—pressed it hard against ribs. Blood seeped hot, wet through her sleeve. "Dad..." A whimper escaped, thin sound lost. Singed hand reached—trembling—towards drifting ash flakes. Smoke clawed her throat. Couldn''t save... his ship... gone. Darkness crashed down. Fire roar silenced. Body slumped limp. Mud slick beneath her cheek. Stillness.