Red Wing''s engines wound down. Vibration through the metal deck plates lessened, leaving only a low electronic hum. Outside the dusty cockpit viewport, village huts showed against the Orun Plateau''s base, muted grey shapes under a thickening grey sky. Landing platform planks, slick with drizzle, gleamed dully.
Kassia unbuckled her harness. The sharp click sounded loud in the cockpit quiet. She stretched, shoulder joints cracking audibly. "Home," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. Her voice was low. "Feels like... gone a month."
Anna remained strapped in the co-pilot seat. Her gaze stayed fixed on the path winding upward towards the plateau edge, towards the dark shape of the workshop shed. Her hand rested near her side, fingers pressing light against bandages beneath her jacket. A low pulse, a pressure, throbbed beneath the bandages. Her limbs felt heavy. Muscles pulled slow.
Kassia opened the cockpit hatch. Cool, damp air rushed in. The scent of woodsmoke from village hearths and brine from the sea mixed in the air. Sounds filtered in: the rhythmic creak of a turbine, distant voices, the clatter of tools from near Tolvar''s shed.
Anna unbuckled her harness. The straps felt heavy sliding off her shoulders. She reached for the wooden crutch braced against the bulkhead.
Her movement onto the platform planks was slow. Each foot placement measured. The crutch tip tapped wood. Shifting weight onto her good leg sent a vibration through her injured side. She moved slow down the ramp, Kassia following.
Milo waited at the bottom, hands moving on mooring lines. His shoulders were lowered slightly, head tilted as he looked up. "You''re back," he stated, the words flat. He took a bundle Kassia handed him, his gaze not meeting Anna''s.
Miriam approached from the cottage path, wiping hands on her apron. Lines around her eyes eased slightly as she saw Anna descend the last step. "Anna," Miriam said, her voice low, steady. "Flight okay?"
"Purifier running," Anna replied, her voice rough. She leaned on the crutch. "They manage."
Joren clumped down the ramp behind them, stretching his back with a loud grunt. Gave Miriam a curt nod. "Ship handled it," he said, glancing at Anna. "Needs rest."
Miriam nodded, her gaze on Anna''s pale face. "Inside. Broth''s hot."
Anna looked past Miriam, past the village square. Her eyes fixed on the path leading upward. Workshop. Her throat muscles tightened. Not yet.
"Need... air," Anna murmured, turning slightly from the cottage path. She moved towards the low stone wall bordering the platform edge. Each step deliberate. Settled carefully onto the cold, damp stone. Pulled her jacket tighter. Wind whipped up from the churning gray water below. Waves crashed, a heavy, relentless rhythm. She stared out at the blurred line where sea met sky.
Kassia and Milo exchanged a look. Began unloading gear from Red Wing with Joren. Miriam lingered near the path, watching Anna''s profile. Turned after a moment, walked slow towards the cottage. Wind carried the faint scent of hearth smoke. Anna sat. Waves broke white against dark rocks. The crutch rested against the wall beside her. The wooden bird''s shape pressed faint through her pocket fabric.
Wind pushed cold against Anna''s back as she stood on the lower cable car platform. The tangy scent of salt hung heavy in the air, mixing with the damp earth smell rising from the path. Below, the village huts looked small, clustered near the gray, churning sea. She leaned on the crutch, the wood pressing firm under her armpit. Her gaze stayed fixed upward, towards the plateau edge veiled in low-hanging mist.
The open-frame car descended with a screech of protesting metal, settling onto the platform with a muted thud. The gate scraped open. Anna moved forward, placing the crutch tip carefully onto the vibrating metal floor. Stepped inside. Settled onto the rough wooden bench. The gate slammed shut. A lurch, then the car began its ascent, pulling upward with rhythmic groans from the cable mechanism overhead.
Wind whistled sharp through the open frame. The village shrank further below. Anna kept her eyes fixed forward, on the approaching cliff face - sheer rock, streaked dark with moisture, rising into the mist. Her hand rested on the crutch handle beside her thigh, knuckles white. The fire beneath her ribs pulsed dull, a constant ache stirred by the car''s uneven sway. She focused on the feel of cold metal beneath her boots, the rough wood of the bench.
Rising after the fall... The thought, unbidden, a quiet echo against the wind''s howl.
The car jolted, shuddered, then stopped with a final CLANG as it locked onto the upper platform. Stillness, except for the wind tearing across the exposed plateau. Anna pushed herself upright, using the bench and the crutch. Stepped out onto packed earth littered with loose shale.
The workshop stood scant yards away. A dark shape against the swirling gray mist. Warped wood, rusted tin roof. Soot stains feathered up from the threshold. The tarnished gear-wing handle seemed to absorb the flat light.
Anna stopped. Her boots crunched on the shale. Wind flattened the sparse scrub nearby, whistling thin, high-pitched. Cold seeped through her jacket, tightening muscles across her shoulders. Silence pressed out from the closed workshop door. Heavy. Empty.
Dad''s laugh... sparks showering gold... smell of hot metal... Gone. Only the wind. The smell of char faint on the air.
Her breathing grew shallow, catching high in her chest. The ache in her side sharpened. Her uninjured hand lifted, trembled almost imperceptibe in the cold air. Hovered near the rusted iron handle. Cold radiated from the metal. Fingers stretched out. Brushed the pitted surface. Retracted quick.
Trust your hands, Anna...
Her jaw tightened. A muscle jumped beside her eye. She took a breath. Slow. It scraped raw in her throat, pulling fire across her ribs. Her hand reached again. Fingers-steady this time-closed around the cold, damp metal. Turned.
Mechanism inside groaned. Metal screeched harsh. Pushed. Heavy wood scraped stone. Door swung inward, maybe three feet. Deep shadow within. Dust motes hung unmoving in the dim light filtering from unseen cracks. Workbench piled high with debris. Racks holding only shadows. Empty space on the floor. Smell of cold metal, old oil, dust, decay. Char.
Leaned on the crutch. Stared into the space. Her space.
A breath shuddered out. Stepped forward. Over the threshold. Inside.
Boots scuffed dust. Air felt thick, still. Moved towards the center. Stopped. Looked around slow. Empty engine mount bolts. Vacant tool rack. Faint chalk outline on the wall. Loss ached, a hollow space expanding in her chest. But the floor held firm. The walls stood.
Walked to the workbench. Ran gloved hand over its surface. Dust shifted. Deep gouges showed beneath. Fingers brushed a copper fitting. Picked it up. Turned it over. Solid. Real. Placed it back down. Turned. Surveyed the room. Eyes landed on the small stool under the bench. Moved towards it. Sat down slow, letting the crutch lean against the bench edge. Hands rested on her knees. Sat amidst the stillness, the dust. Present. Breathing the workshop air. The threshold crossed.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Dust motes swirled in the single shaft of gray light from the roof crack. Anna sat on the low wooden stool. Her hand rested on her knee, fingers still. The carved wooden bird lay on the workbench beside her knee. Her crutch leaned against the bench leg. Her gaze pointed towards a dusty spiderweb in the corner.
Footsteps crunched outside on shale. Slowed. Stopped. A shadow blocked the doorway light. Anna''s head did not turn.
Horik stepped inside. Boots scraped grit on floorboards. Stopped paces from the workbench. His gaze swept the space - empty mounts, tool racks, workbench, Anna. His eyes paused on the wooden bird, then moved to meet hers as she finally looked up.
The skin near his eye showed purple bruising. His jacket hung loose, patched. Wind had plastered damp hair to his temples. He shifted weight. Floorboards groaned faint. Hands hung at his sides.
"Heard..." Horik began. Voice scraped, rough. Cleared his throat-a harsh sound. "...purifier runs. East Iris. Elara sent word."
Anna gave a slight, stiff nod. "It runs," she replied. Voice low, flat. Looked back down at her hand.
Horik took another step closer. Stopped near the workbench end. Leaned a hip against its scarred edge. Wood creaked. "Elara said... you handled setup." Pause. Gaze dropped to floor, lifted. "Near killed yourself... pump slide."
Anna''s fingers tightened on her knee. A faint tremor started. Memory flash: pump shuddering, Kassia yelling, crutch jarring rock, pain. Breath hitched shallow. "Had to," she murmured, words tight. Gaze stayed on floor dust.
Silence. Wind whistled low outside. Tin rattled on the roof. Clatter... drip. Water beaded on the windowpane.
"Anna," Horik said. Shifted weight again. "East Iris... settled." Hesitation. "But... Rennon." Name scraped harsh. "What he did."
Anna''s head lifted slow. Neck muscles pulled visibly. Grayish-blue eyes, shadowed, fixed on Horik''s face. Held steady. Waited.
Horik met her stare. Jaw muscle jumped beneath bruised skin. "He attacked you," Horik stated, words flat. "Before crash. Like you said." His gaze dropped to the stain high on her jacket shoulder, flicked back to her eyes. "Gods, Anna... saw you hurt... but didn''t..." Voice trailed off. Scrubbed a hand hard over his face.
Anna stayed still. Watched him.
"Found him near Veyra," Horik continued, voice low, faster. "Months back. Stranded. Said skiff went down." Gestured vaguely. "Knew tech. Meltdown engines... Fixed my pumps." Met Anna''s eyes. "Said he hunted salvage... blueprints... near your region." His eyes flicked towards her satchel on the floor. "Mentioned energy readings... unique finds. Elara picked up some chatter. Thought he chased parts. Schematics."
Pushed away from the bench. Took restless step. Turned back. "When we built purifier demo... saw your workshop... saw that..." Eyes flicked to satchel again. "...crystal." Voice tightened. "He changed."
Anna''s breath caught faint. Hand moved towards satchel. Stopped. Curled back.
"Talking different," Horik went on, pacing slow. Boots scuffed dust. "Obsessed. Muttering...''keys''... ''old power''... Said that crystal-" pointed towards satchel "-was ''key.'' Worth more than plateau scrap." Eyes locked on Anna''s, dark. "Thought he meant... knowledge. Blueprints. Power readings. Never figured... stone itself. Never figured..." Stopped pacing. Ran hand through hair, fingers trembling slight. "...this. The violence."
Gaze dropped. Stared at dusty floor. "Played me, Anna," he said, words quiet, rough. "Used our need... cover to hunt that..." Shook head slow. "Brought him here. Introduced him. Trusted him." Voice trailed off. Shoulders slumped slight. Looked up. Met her gaze. Eyes held anger-at Rennon, himself?-and admission.
Anna watched. Listened. Face pale, muscles still. Hand gripping knee loosened slightly. White tension in knuckles eased. Breathing, while shallow, felt less constricted. Key... old power... Targeted. Gaze remained on Horik''s face. Assessing. Weight inside shifted.
Silence filled the workshop. Dust motes drifted slow in the light shaft. Wind sighed low outside. Horik stood near the room''s center. Anna sat on the stool, her gaze on him.
Anna shifted on the stool. Wood creaked faint. Her breath hitched quiet as the movement pulled beneath her side bandages. Her hand, no longer clenched white, rested flat on her knee. Her gaze dropped from Horik''s face, moved across the scarred workbench, stopped on the carved wooden bird. Stared at the wood grain. Heartbeats passed.
Her head lifted again. Looked back at Horik. "He used us," she stated. Voice low, flat. "Both."
Horik''s jaw tightened. A muscle jumped beneath the bruised skin. He gave a single, sharp nod. His gaze dropped to the floor. Turned slightly away. Scrubbed a hand rough across the back of his neck. "Aye," he muttered, sound gravelly. "He did." Looked up again, eyes moving past Anna towards the shadowed tool racks. "Won''t get far." His hand dropped, clenched into a fist at his side. "When arm..." he flexed fingers of his injured arm, a wince tightening his face, "...mends... find him."
Anna watched his hand clench. Her expression showed no visible shift. Shoulders stayed lowered. Looked back towards the wooden bird. "Worry... arm first, Horik," she said, voice low, flat. "Your people." Pause. "Rennon... dust on wind now." Her fingers brushed the bird''s smooth head, a light, tracing movement.
Horik turned fully back. Brow furrowed. Gray eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her face. Saw stillness. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook head once, small, sharp. "Dust settles," he muttered, voice rough. "Leaves tracks." Took step towards doorway. Stopped. Looked back at her. She hadn''t moved, gaze on bird. Gave another curt nod. Turned. Walked out. Boots scraped threshold stone, crunched away down path. Shadow vanished from doorway.
Wind swept into workshop. Swirled dust motes faster. Cold scent of damp earth, sea filled the air. Anna remained seated. Silence felt lighter now. Empty. Her hand closed around wooden bird. Smooth wood, solid, cool against palm. Her gaze lifted slow. Moved past workbench, empty mounts, toward open doorway. Gray light filled opening. Plateau stretched vast, empty. Wind sighed. Fingers tightened around bird. Path. Crystal. Father. Weight settled inside. Different. Not breaking. Anchoring.
Anna sat on the wooden stool. Workshop quiet. Gray light from doorway. Wind sighed low outside. Waves crashed, distant roar. Dust motes drifted in light shaft. Carved wooden bird rested cool, smooth in her palm. Fingers traced wing curve.
Key... old power... Horik heard it. Rennon knew. Came for this. Crystal shape felt absent, a space near her hip inside the satchel. Not salvage. Not random.
Pushed upright from stool. Hand pressed flat on workbench. Ribs pulled sharp beneath bandages; breath hitched quiet. Stood leaning against bench. Gaze swept space. Empty mounts. Rusted tools on rack. Salvaged pipes glinting dull. My space. Your space, Dad.
Walked slow towards doorway. Boots scuffed dust. Stopped at threshold. Leaned against doorframe. Wind pushed cold against face. Scent of salt, damp earth filled nose. Mist swirled low over plateau scrub. Path vanished into grayness.
Alone. Ship gone. Crystal stolen. Hand moved to vest pocket. Fingers closed around wooden bird. Not empty. Pulled bird free. Held it up. Turned it in flat light.
Gaze lifted towards sky, towards mist merging with cliff edge. "Dad," she murmured, sound low, rasping. "He called it key." Fingers tightened around bird. "That crystal... Rennon knew. Said worth more than scrap." Pause. Wind whistled thin through wall crack behind. "Chasing your relics... meltdown tech..."
Did you know? Feel it? Crystal image flashed-beside diary, compartment dark. Left it... for me?
"...Said wasn''t enough," she whispered, words catching raw. Head bowed slightly. Wind whipped blonde hair across eyes. "Break things." Cloudchaser... Lia''s hand... purifier pipe... Heat prickled behind eyes. Blinked hard. "Maybe right."
No. The thought, sharp. Purifier worked. Built together. Looked down at bird. Smooth wood. Solid. Rising after fall. Your words.
Shoulders straightened fraction. Jaw firmed. "Okay, Dad," she said, voice steadier, still low. Directed towards empty air, swirling mist. "Took crystal. Don''t know where. Don''t know why ''key''." Slid bird back into pocket. Movement deliberate. "Find out." Gaze lifted again, scanned gray horizon, unseen sea. "Trace tracks dust leaves." Hand touched tool belt. Like you taught me.
Need ship. Practical thought. Mend more than pumps.
Air shifted. Wind softened to a lower sigh against the workshop walls. Through a high break in the gray cloud cover, a patch of pale yellow light showed. Faint sunlight touched wet rocks near the cliff edge; water drops gleamed there. High above the plateau, seen through the widening cloud gap, the Betelgeuse nebula pulsed faint-coppery dust tendrils interwoven with threads of bruised violet, a vast, distant shimmer against the clearing upper sky.
Anna drew a deeper breath. Air scraped cold, damp, into her lungs. Exhaled slow. The steady pulse beneath her ribs remained, a low throb under the bandages.
She pushed away from the doorframe. Turned back inside the workshop. Boots scuffed dust. Her gaze moved over cluttered benches, tools hanging silent on racks, empty floor spaces marking where larger machinery once stood. Start here. Bent slow at the knees, the movement pulling tight across her side. Fingers closed around a stray metal bolt lying half-hidden in floor dust. Picked it up. Cold metal, heavy. Slipped it into her jacket pocket. It settled beside the wooden bird''s smooth shape. Metal clicked faint against wood. Straightened slow. Walked towards the main workbench against the far wall. Boots crunched quiet on the dusty floor beneath the nebula''s faint, high glow filtering through the doorway.