The gentle hum of the skyship drifted through the cabin like a lullaby barely remembered. The first pale fingers of morning crept through the round porthole window, painting the wooden walls in faint swaths of gray and blue. A breeze stirred the edges of old maps on the desk, and the lantern in the corner still glowed dimly, its flame reduced to a trembling ember.
Rad’s eyes slowly fluttered open. He shifted slightly beneath the soft gray-blue sheets, blinking against the dull haze of sleep as he sat up with a quiet yawn. His arms rose in a lazy stretch, his back arching with a few satisfying cracks. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes, his fingers brushing against the sleep-matted strands of his brown hair.
The world was still quiet, still gentle. He let out a soft sigh as his gaze drifted across the curved walls of the cabin.
“…guess I’m the last one up,” he mumbled with a faint frown, glancing toward the tall cabinet where Ray had last perched. It was empty now—quiet, undisturbed. “Ray probably went off to eat breakfast with Kite…”
Rad exhaled heavily, swinging his legs off the bed. The wooden floor was cool beneath his bare feet as he stood and stretched again, eyes briefly closing in a slow exhale. “Nice of them to leave me behind.”
He chuckled dryly to himself, the sound brittle, but faintly amused. The ship creaked softly beneath him, the lull of high-altitude winds brushing against the hull like ghostly whispers. Rad took a few slow steps forward, moving toward the center of the room.
And then—he stopped. His body froze mid-step, one hand still half-lifted from his stretch, suspended in the still air like a broken marionette. His eyes widened. His breath hitched.
There, in front of the door, sitting in complete silence, was Vel. She sat with her back against the frame, her wings folded in, dulled and ragged like torn silk. Her arms were wrapped tightly around something—no, someone. Ray.
Ray’s lifeless robotic body lay slumped in her embrace, his head resting limply against her shoulder. His cybernetic eyes were half-open but void of any glow—nothing behind them but silence. His limbs dangled with awful looseness, his black-and-white frame still save for the occasional creak of shifting weight in Vel’s arms.
Vel said nothing as she slept. She didn’t even look up. Her face was turned down toward Ray, her wild, dark brown hair casting shadows over her face. Her body was curled inward around his frame as if shielding it from a world that no longer deserved to see him.
Rad’s heart slammed against his ribs. “R-Ray…?” he whispered, voice cracking, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Vel…? W-what…?”
The questions died on his lips as Vel’s eyes fluttered open. After a silent moment she slowly turned her head to meet his gaze. Her faintly glowing irises shimmered beneath a veil of exhaustion and sorrow, bloodshot and heavy, yet steady.
She didn’t look angry. She didn’t look surprised. She looked like someone who had already cried every tear she had and was simply… hollow.
Vel blinked slowly, her eyes crusted with sleep and sorrow as she stirred groggily. Her voice came out in a soft, groggy hum. “Hm…?”
She stretched her arms slightly with a yawn, still cradling Ray’s lifeless body as if he were a fragile porcelain doll. Her wings gave a tired little flick, stirring the dust in the golden morning light.
Rad’s eye twitched. His heart had only just stopped thundering in his ears—and now it started again, but for entirely different reasons. “How the hell did you even get in here?!” Rad shouted hysterically, his voice cracking as he pointed toward her, then at Ray’s limp body in her arms. “And—what’d you do with Ray?!”
The cabin door shook lightly from the volume of his outburst, and from outside, curious murmurs could be heard—crew members pausing, casting glances toward the sealed door as they passed in the hallway.
Vel blinked at him, her expression completely calm—almost bored. She raised one brown eyebrow, then turned her tired eyes down to Ray’s unmoving body.
“I came in through the crack under the door,” she said nonchalantly, before pointing lazily to the floor beside Rad’s bed. “And he was just… lying there. So, I picked him up.”
Rad’s face scrunched in disbelief as he looked to the floor, his heartbeat slowing as confusion took over. The spot Vel had gestured to was bare now—save for a faint indent where something heavy had clearly rested all night.
He turned back to her, eyes still wide, mind trying to make sense of everything. “Wait—okay, fine. Whatever. Just—hand him over.”
He extended his arms toward her. But Vel pouted immediately. “No.”
Her grip around Ray’s limp form tightened protectively as she looked away with a dramatic huff. “He’s probably cold from sleeping on the floor all night. Poor thing.”
Rad’s brow twitched. “What?”
She pointed a sharp finger at him, eyes narrowing like a parent scolding a child. “You’re selfish. Making a baby sleep on the ground all night.”
Rad opened his mouth in disbelief. “I didn’t make him do anything! He just… I don’t know why he does this stuff!”
Vel scoffed with a sly smirk, her voice smug as she leaned fully into her trickster persona. “Caretakers are supposed to care for their kids, Rad. Or are you just… bad at it?”
That did it. “I—you—You’re the one who won’t leave me alone!” he snapped, flailing a hand as his frustration boiled over.
Vel gasped theatrically, placing a hand on her chest as if he’d just insulted her family lineage. “Won’t leave you alone?! After everything I’ve done for you?!”
Rad groaned, face flushed with irritation. “I-I don’t even know you! Just hand over the baby already!” He lunged forward with arms outstretched—but Vel nimbly stepped to the side with an impish giggle. Ray’s limp body swayed in her arms like a stuffed toy.
“Too slow!” she teased, now floating just a few inches off the ground now. Her crimson aura began to bloom around her, soft embers rising from her skin like sparks dancing on the wind.
Rad blinked in alarm as the soft red glow began to envelop Ray’s lifeless form. “Wait—wait, what are you doing?”
Vel gave a mischievous grin, her eyes flickering with wild delight. “Relax,” she said. “I’m just making sure he travels light.”
And with a twinkle of her fingers, Ray’s body began to dissolve—flickering with crimson light. The air shimmered as his form split into drifting cinders—tiny glowing fragments that scattered like ash in the wind. Gone.
“VEL!” Rad screamed, lunging again, but it was too late.
Vel twirled midair, her giggle like wind chimes in a thunderstorm. “If you want him back, you’ll have to catch me!”
Rad’s face contorted in rage. “Damn it, Vel!” He launched himself through the air like a missile, teeth gritted, arms stretched out—but in a flash of red light, Vel shrunk. Her body condensed into a glowing ember no larger than a firefly, darting effortlessly through the air.
“What—!” Rad blurted, missing her completely as he flew past—and crashed headfirst into a nearby table. Wood cracked and papers scattered in all directions as he landed with a heavy groan.
Vel hovered above in her glowing sprite form, her laughter ringing through the cabin like a bell of pure chaos. “Don’t worry!” she sang, wings fluttering in a blur of crimson sparkles. “I’ll take very good care of little Ray!”
Then—whoosh! She zipped down toward the floor and slipped effortlessly through the crack beneath the door, her voice trailing behind in one last, cackling echo.
Rad groaned from beneath the broken table, glaring at the door with pure fury. “…I really, really hate fairies.”
The hallway outside echoed with a familiar, taunting giggle. A trail of crimson sparkles drifted under the door. Rad’s eyes narrowed in irritation as he scrambled to his feet.
Kicking aside the splintered remains of the table, and charged out the cabin door just in time to see Vel’s glowing form zipping down the corridor like a living firework. “Vel!” he roared, bolting after her.
She looped midair and laughed as she grinned widely. “Come on, sleepyhead! Let’s stretch those legs!”
With a burst of speed, she zipped back into the interior hallway of the skyship. Rad didn’t hesitate—he dove through the hatch behind her, caught the railing, and slid down the banister of the spiral staircase.
“Move, move, move—!” Rad yelled as he barreled down the hallway, practically flying off the staircase banister.
He hit the floor hard, stumbling into a full sprint as he slid past a pair of wide-eyed crew members—a fox chimera carrying a tray of tea and a burly engineer adjusting a steam gauge. The tray clattered to the floor with a crash of porcelain, tea sloshing across the planks.
“What in the storming skies—?!” the engineer shouted, jumping back just in time to avoid being plowed over.
“Who’s that kid?” the fox chimera whispered, her tail puffed up in alarm. “Why’s he yelling like a lunatic?!”
Another deckhand ducked out of a nearby supply closet, only to be nearly knocked over by Rad’s passing blur “Watch it, kid—!”
Rad didn’t stop. “Fairy theft emergency!”
“Fairy what—?!”
One officer turned to the others, pointing. “Is this another magical containment breach? Somebody lock down the kitchen!”
“I just mopped that hallway!” cried a janitor chimera, waving a soggy mop in the air as Rad slid through a puddle and nearly took out a stack of folded uniforms.
All around him, the skyship crew erupted in confused murmurs and startled yells, watching as Rad tore down the corridor like a one-man hurricane, hot on the trail of glowing red embers that floated mockingly through the air.
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And at the far end of the hall, Vel peeked back around a corner, wiggled her fingers in a playful wave, and zipped away again with a trail of sparkles.
“VEL!” Rad howled, not breaking stride. But he didn’t make it quite far as he slammed directly into a rolling laundry cart, flipping it over with a loud crash, sending a cascading avalanche of bedsheets over his head.
He tore through them with a snarl, completely wrapped like a mummy. “Ugh—damn it!”
Vel peeked from behind a hallway beam. “You look cozy! Wanna nap first before continuing?”
Rad ripped the last sheet off and charged, but Vel quickly snapped her fingers.
The hallway floor shimmered. His foot hit something slick. Whump.
Rad went down hard, sliding across the now glass-smooth hallway, limbs flailing like a newborn goat on ice as he screamed out. He crashed into a supply closet with a loud bang, knocking open the doors as brooms and mops rained down.
One mop swung loose from the collapsing pile and smacked Rad square in the face with a wet, meaty WHACK. “Grah—!” he staggered back, slipping on a loose broom handle and landing flat on his back with a groan, a mop strand dangling off his nose like a mustache.
From above, Vel floated lazily past the open closet, her wings giving off a faint hum as they stirred the dust. She peeked down at him, her crimson aura pulsing with delight. “Strike one!” she chirped, cackling like a gremlin with front-row seats to a disaster.
Rad flailed, shoving the mop off his face and coughing as a cloud of lemon-scented dust puffed into his nose. “You are the worst,” he wheezed.
“Correction,” Vel said, twirling midair. “I’m the best at being the worst.”
She blew him a kiss of glittering fairy dust and vanished down the hallway with a mischievous chime, leaving Rad buried in cleaning supplies, pride in tatters, and fury boiling in his chest.
Moments later, Rad’s feet pounded heavily against the wooden floorboards, eyes darting wildly for any trace of red-glowing fairy dust. The air still shimmered faintly from where she had zipped past only seconds ago—ember-like sparkles drifting lazily behind her like breadcrumbs.
“I swear, Vel—if you hurt him—!” Rad yelled out as he ran. A high-pitched giggle echoed from somewhere above him.
Rad skidded to a stop and looked up—only to see Vel upside down, floating near the ceiling, her iridescent wings fluttering gently, glowing faint crimson. “‘Hurt him’?” she echoed, theatrically offended. “Excuse you, I’m giving him a vacation. You’re the one yelling like a deranged banshee.”
“Vel!” Rad lunged upward, swiping at her. She squeaked in delight and shrunk midair, her body compressing into a glowing ember that zipped out of reach and down the corridor. Rad hit the ground with a grunt and scrambled to his feet, heart hammering, legs pumping.
Vel quickly darted through the air into the galley. Rad followed close being, not even hesitating as he charged thro the swinging double doors. And was then immediately pelted in the face by a flying tomato. “Argh!”
Vel floated above the prep counter, now surrounded by animated cookware. Skillets spun midair, knives hovered ominously, and a ladle wagged at Rad like a scolding finger.
“Welcome to breakfast service!” she declared, arms wide. “Today’s special: seared Rad with a side of humiliation!”
The skillet spun and lunged at him with a sizzling hiss. He ducked. “Are you serious?!”
The chef—an old, stunned-looking chimera goat humanoid—stared in horror as his kitchen became a warzone. “I just cleaned this place!” the chef screamed out as he clutched a wooden spoon like it might protect him from the brewing apocalypse. His wide, drooping eyes followed the flying pans, levitating knives, and flurries of fruit with mounting despair.
Vel spun in midair with her arms outstretched like a ballerina in the eye of the storm. “You did a wonderful job! Honestly, it was spotless. Which made it the perfect blank canvas!”
A saucepan clanged off a nearby rack. The chef’s jaw dropped. “You’re using it like a battlefield!”
Vel hovered down just enough to lean on the rim of a floating pot, chin in her hands. “Aw, c’mon, gramps. Think of it as… performance art! I’m expressing chaos through cuisine.”
“That is a rolling pin!” the chef screamed as it flew past his head and embedded itself in a hanging rack with a metallic thunk.
Rad sighed in exasperation before dodging a flying spoon, ducking under a floating pot, then finally kicking off a rolling prep cart and vaulted across the room toward Vel. This time, his fingers grazed her ankle.
Her eyes widened. “Uh-oh.” Rad grabbed on. Vel yelped and shrunk instantly, slipping through his fingers like smoke.
“You cheater!” Rad cried, landing flat on the ground as another tomato splatted beside his head.
“Fairy,” she corrected sweetly. “Learn the difference!” She called out as she flew off at high speed.
Rad grimaced as he quickly scrambled to his feet and bolted after her, leaving the goat chef behind to clean up the mess as he wiped his tears.
Vel led Rad out of the crew hallway and up a spiral ladder toward the upper deck. Rad barely caught the shimmer of her fairy dust trail as she shot through a gap in the rigging overhead. Gritting his teeth, he followed—vaulting onto a crate, climbing the mast with a wild scramble.
The morning wind bit at his skin, cold and sharp as he emerged onto the open rigging of the skyship. The clouds around them were thick, sun just breaking over the horizon, casting long shadows across the sails and ropes.
Vel zipped between sail lines with ease, her laughter drifting in the wind. “Careful now! One wrong step and you’re part of the skyline, Rad!”
Rad grunted, scaling the netting like a boy possessed. “You’re dead when I catch you!”
“Ohhh, scary,” Vel mocked with an exaggerated shiver, her voice dripping with playful contempt. She twirled midair like a dancer in slow motion, trailing a spiral of glowing crimson embers behind her.
With a sudden flare of light, she expanded to her full size again, just long enough to lean dramatically toward Rad with a devilish grin and blow him a kiss.
A shimmering, heart-shaped spark of magic floated through the air—soft, glowing red, and pulsing with mischievous warmth.
Rad’s eyes widened. “Yuck.” He recoiled instinctively and swatted it out of the air with the back of his hand. The conjured kiss popped like a soap bubble, releasing a tiny spray of glitter that clung to his sleeve and refused to let go.
“Ugh,” he muttered, flicking his arm and trying to shake it off as Vel giggled and zipped out of view, disappearing behind the mast in a blur of light.
Rad crept across the spar, knees bent, arms stretched out for balance as the wind tugged at his clothes and the rigging swayed beneath his feet. “I swear if I don’t pass this school project…” Rad whispered to himself, swallowing his nerves and inching forward with shaky determination, his eyes locked on the crimson afterglow lingering ahead.
Meanwhile, crew members and guests on the main deck had begun to take notice of the unfolding chaos overhead. It started with a few upward glances, puzzled looks shared between workers hauling crates or coiling ropes. Then someone pointed.
“Is that a kid up there?” a young guest asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she spotted Rad creeping across a swaying spar beam far above.
“How’d he climb up so high?” muttered a chimera crewmate, squinting up through the rigging, one hand on a coil of rope. “That’s not regulation.”
A loud giggle echoed from somewhere above them, followed by a burst of crimson light. More heads turned. Murmurs spread. “Wait—what the hell is that thing?” asked a deckhand, jerking his thumb toward the glimmering red trail swirling around the mast.
“Some kinda spirit?” another said. “Or a malfunctioning sprite?”
Rad, wobbled on the spar and kept inching forward. “Wanna bet he falls?” said a gruff sailor near the helm, nudging the man beside him with a lazy grin.
“Yeah,” the other replied, already pulling out a handful of coins. “Two sol drakes say he eats it in under a minute.”
A well-dressed guest in a monocle gasped dramatically. “Is that the boy from the lower cabins?! Someone fetch an officer!”
A third crewmember just sipped their coffee with a knowing look. “That fairy’s back again, isn’t she?”
By now, a small crowd had gathered, heads tilted skyward, watching as Rad crawled along the mast beam like an angry cat chasing a laser pointer made of pure spite.
Suddenly, a burst of red light erupted behind the mainsail—and a series of sail lines snapped loose. One whipped toward Rad like a whip as he wobbled. “Wha–gah!”
He ducked instinctively, barely avoiding a lash as Vel’s giggle rang out again. “Oops! Did I forget how physics work? My bad!”
Rad growled, eyes locked on the next beam as the wind whipped through his hair. With a burst of adrenaline, he leapt, boots thudding against the wooden spar as he launched himself forward. He snatched a swinging rope mid-air—its fibers rough and fraying beneath his fingers—and used the momentum to hurl himself across the open gap like a pendulum in freefall.
The world blurred around him. For a split second, he was soaring over the crew’s wide-eyed stares and the distant hum of the propellers.
Then—whump! He slammed into the side netting of the main mast, the thick rope mesh catching him with a bone-jarring bounce. His knees buckled, slamming into the net, and he let out a sharp breath as the impact knocked the wind out of him.
Rad gritted his teeth, clinging tight, fingers digging into the ropes as they swayed beneath his weight. His chest heaved. The wind roared in his ears, but his voice still cut through it. “You can’t hide forever, Vel!”
There was a beat of silence—then a familiar, smug voice rang out from somewhere above, laced with infuriating delight. “Hide? I’m literally glowing!” she sang, her words echoing off the sails with pure mischief.
A flicker of red light zipped past the corner of his vision, barely visible through the crisscrossing ropes and wooden beams. Her laughter followed, dancing on the wind like music from a trickster god. Rad’s jaw clenched as he started to climb again, fire burning in his legs and fury smoldering in his chest.
The chase finally burst into the highest floor of the skyship—the Observation Deck. It was a massive, dome-roofed space once used for navigation and stargazing. Dust floated in shafts of golden morning light. The roof had partially collapsed, leaving beams open to the sky. Old star maps and telescopes were scattered across the floor.
Suddenly, with a soft whoosh and a pulse of red light, Vel reappeared midair, hovering in the broken space beneath the shattered dome of the observation deck. Her wings unfurled in slow, steady beats, holding her effortlessly aloft as if the very air bent to her presence.
She had returned to her full size—no longer a flitting ember, but a girl once more, radiant with an unsettling stillness. And in her arms, she cradled something delicately, as if afraid the world might break it with a single glance.
Ray. His small robotic frame lay limp against her chest, head resting beneath her chin, arms dangling slightly over her forearm. His cybernetic body had changed—subtly, disturbingly. The once-clean divide between black and white plating was now tinged with soft iridescence, like a pearl cracked by flame, glowing faintly with traces of Vel’s crimson aura.
His eyes—once glowing with bright green and violet light—were now dimmed, flickering faintly with a crimson hue as if caught between sleep and awakening. Vel’s expression was strangely unreadable. Not smug. Not mischievous. Just… solemn.
She looked down at Ray for a moment, brushing a bit of dust from his shoulder. Then she slowly raised her gaze, locking eyes with Rad as he stumbled through the observatory doorway.
Rad froze. “What did you do…?”
Vel remained unreadable as she hovered. “Relax. I fixed him.” She stated nonchalantly, her trickster persona beginning to fade away.
“He’s glowing red.”
“Details!”
Rad hesitantly stepped forward, voice trembling. “Vel… give him back.” He slowly reached out a shaking hand. “Please.”
She tilted her head, her voice quieter now—low and steady, almost too calm. “You still don’t get it, do you? He’s safer with me. You… you just complain. You push him away. You don’t even try to understand him.”
Her eyes didn’t shine with mockery anymore. They shimmered with something far heavier—regret, maybe. Bitterness. A sadness that clung to the edges of her words like soot.
Rad’s jaw clenched. “I do!” he snapped, his fists trembling at his sides. “I’m just…” He hesitated.
The heat in his chest gave way to something colder—like a slow, creeping awareness. The air around them, thick with wind and magic, seemed to still for just a moment as a thought cut through the noise like a blade.
“I’m just…” he whispered again—then stopped. His eyes widened.
“Wait a minute…” he breathed, stepping forward. “You’re not talking about Ray, are you?”
His voice rose with realization, frustration twisting his features. “You’re just talking about yourself!”
That made Vel freeze. Just for a second. Her wings twitched. Her lips parted as if to say something—but nothing came. Her expression faltered. For the first time since the chase began, the mask fully cracked.
And then, like a door slamming shut, it was gone. Her face twisted back into a smirk, now cruel, sharp—and venomous.
“Not at all, tubby,” she snapped. And with that, she turned—her arms lifting. Without ceremony, without warning, she tossed Ray’s limp body over the edge of the deck like he was nothing but dead weight.
“NO!” Rad cried, his voice breaking as his world split open. He dove immediately.
He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He threw himself forward with everything he had, lungs burning, legs coiling like springs.
His fingers brushed cold metal—and then gripped. He wrapped both arms around Ray’s body and clutched him tight just as the two of them sailed over the rail, the deck falling away behind them.
The wind screamed. The sky yawned wide.
Rad and Ray plunged together into the vast emptiness, spiraling toward the endless ocean below, swallowed by clouds and gravity and silence. Vel stood there, frozen, staring after them.
Her cocky posture deflated slightly. Her wings lowered, her fingers curled unconsciously at her sides.
She took a slow step toward the edge, peering down through the broken mist trailing from the ship’s wake. “…Damn,” she whispered to herself, voice barely audible. “He actually jumped.” The wind blew gently past her, carrying away the last of her embers.