Tristan didn’t think. There was no time for thought.

As he fell through the air, he opened his [Perk Page]. Wind rushing around him, he used the [Perkshards] he’d acquired from killing the pirates to unlock the only one that could save him right now.

You have successfully unlocked [Adept/Dark/Attack Perk] — Darklink: Upon activation, your next Dark Attack creates a link on the target it lands upon. Upon reactivation, teleport to this link. (CASTS: 3).

Wind whipping his hair around him, Tristan activated {Darklink}. His Dark Attacks glowed, and he ripped [Midnight Javelin] off his deck and cast it with all his strength at the side of the rapidly distancing Serenity.

Dennier arrived at the broken railing and aimed a card at him.

[Midnight Javelin] slammed into the hull beside the railing of the balcony. A mark appeared there, a line of Dark energy stemming from it and onto his chest. She turned in surprise as her Attack launched.

Tristan twisted around, grabbed [Backstep] and reactivated {Darklink}. In a blink, he appeared with his back to the wall and [Backstepped]. He saw her launched [Command: Burst] ineffectually fly past where he’d just been before before shadows swallowed him up and spat him out on the other side of the wall.

He fell into water. The pool room. Disoriented, he quickly used his last casts of [Earthen Concoction], and his chest reknitted itself.

Above him, the wall he’d passed through blew apart from the force of Dennier’s [Wind Cannon]. Chunks of metal and wood fell down into the water.

Tristan quickly swam down until he reached the bottom of the pool. Turning around, he used [Backstep] once more.

He plunged out into an empty cabin on the Ruby floor. Water splashed around him as he fell with a painful thud atop an ornate desk and rolled off onto the floor. He landed with a grunt.

For a single, precious second, Tristan laid there.

Every part of him was shaking. He was exhausted, tired, and raw. He could still hear the wind rushing in his ears.

Then, he got up and ran out the door, which was broken into from the pirates’ earlier sweep of this floor. Dennier’s too smart to be confused about where I went. She saw him [Backstep] through the wall and would make the obvious connection.

He summoned his [Binder] as he ran down the hall and hastily put on a fresh batch of equipment. As he finished, he heard the sound of metal tearing, followed by the roar of rushing water in the cabin he’d just left.

Cursing, Tristan ducked into the nearest open room and used his last cast of Polter. The shade summoned, and he directed it to phase through the walls back the way he came.

“Where are you, little rat!” Dennier shouted, her loud voice alarmingly close. He heard the sound of her boots splashing in flowing pool water. “That was a neat trick you pulled, I won’t lie. If you weren’t such a damn lightheart, I’d almost consider having you join my crew!”

Tristan had no idea what a lightheart was and didn’t care. He waited until the sound of Dennier’s boots drew close.

Then, he had Polter knock over a desk in the cabin at the far end of the hall and rush out the door. He heard Dennier grunt and spin around, followed by the sound of a [Windwalk] as she dashed the other way.

His knees suddenly gave out. Tristan dropped to the ground, trembling. He looked over his cards; he barely had any casts left on most of them, and a few were already grayed out.

Get up, he snarled inwardly. You can’t let her get back to the others. Also, if he delayed too long, her deck would refresh too. Come on. You still have one last cast of [Sinking Sands] left. Set the Trap, then finish her off. You’re a Transcendent, and you’re losing to an Expert? Eila needs you, so GET. UP.

Tristan forced himself to his feet, one hand braced on the wall.

And immediately slid back down.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. His body was refusing to listen. His nerves were scraped raw, down to the bone, the sound of the wind roaring in his ears. He had the sudden image of Sir Barrihald in that mechanic’s room, a sad smile on his face as he slammed the two major sources together.

Shaking, Tristan pulled a new employee SDC from his [Binder]; the one he’d clipped onto his belt had broken at some point. He converted the item and set it to the sixth floor.

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“Eila? Can you hear me?”

—🃁—

A ragged yell of victory rose from the dining room. Eila stared out at her fellow hostages—no, her fellow fighters—and raised her voice with them.

The defeated pirates laid spread out before them. She stared down at their dead bodies and felt nothing but satisfaction. One of them had his face burnt from when she’d smashed a [Fire Source] into it. Her hand still burned despite her healing it. She welcomed the pain, embraced it as the feeling of victory.

A part of her was worried about this reaction. The rest of her reveled in it.

She quickly went around with some of the other fighters with healing cards and helped the injured the best she could with her weak Novice cards. Again, she was reminded of the terrible cost of neglecting the cardbearer side of her.

Their numbers had dwindled even further. There were less than fifty of them now, a horrifying, numbing reality. People wept for their loved ones, while others stared catatonically down at a corpse.

Tristan! Eila thought. She quickly opened her [Binder] and pulled out an employee shortcomm that Boll had stolen. Converting it, she set it to the sixth floor.

Nothing came through. Anxiety and fear rushed through her.

“What do we do now?” called a man’s voice. She looked up and saw a tall, severe-looking man speaking to the massed group. His dark skin indicated he was from the Province of Rays, and he wore a set of bloodied shell equipment. “That pirate captain could come back at any moment!”

“We have to take control of the flight room,” said a familiar voice. Rivingtol. The man still wore his suit, though it was torn to shreds now, and a healed gash tore across his cheek. “There should be some way of contacting the Continent in there. We need their help.”

“No, we need to go take over the pirates’ ship,” said a new voice, a woman with fiery-red hair and dark eyes. Her cut arm was being healed by a trembling, elderly man. “We can take over it before the captain gets back.”

“Do you know how to pilot an airship?” said another voice in the group, someone Eila couldn’t see.

“No,” the woman said, “but surely there’s someone in here that could.”

Silence swept the room. Then, a thin arm raised into the air. The group spread apart, revealing a small, scared-looking teenage boy. He wore a set of leather armor similar to Eila’s.

“I can,” the boy whispered, his voice almost too soft to hear. “Kind of. I apprenticed at the Airship Guild for a summer. I didn’t pass the qualifying exams, but I know what the controls do.”

“Good enough,” the woman said, nodding at the boy. “We go take the airship.”

“Wait,” said the tall man who’d spoken first. “We need to take that captain out first. Launch a surprise attack.”

Rivingtol shook his head. “This is a mistake. Contacting the Continent should be our priority.”

Arguments arose in the group about which option to take. Eila stood by watching it all happen with a growing sense of anger and helplessness rising within her. Her hand gripped tight around the shortcomm in her hand.

Then, it buzzed.

“Eila?” came Tristan’s voice scratchily through the machine. “Can you hear me?”

Hearing him felt like she’d just got hit by a healing card. She snapped to and lifted the shortcomm to her face.

“Tristan!” she exclaimed, heart beating rapidly, joy and relief soaring. “Are you all right? Did you kill the captain?”

“No,” he said after a moment. His voice sounded like it was trembling. “I have her distracted on the Ruby floor. I can’t say exactly where I am in case someone else is listening. But… I need help.”

“What do you need?” Eila immediately answered. “Me and the other hostages defeated the pirates here thanks to you.”

“I just need…” The sound of a heavy breath came through the shortcomm. “I just need eight minutes. Distract her for eight minutes so her deck doesn’t reset and mine can. Then, I can finish her. I’m sorry.” His voice broke at the end.

Her anger returned to her in a shocking surge. Not at him, of course, but at the pirates for causing this whole situation and at the others who were wasting time arguing while Tristan gave his life to save them.

“We’re coming,” she growled, protectiveness making her see red. “Stay safe. Help is on the way.”

“Thank you, Eila.”

Eila gripped the shortcomm tight and stalked towards the others, who were yelling at each other. She sucked in a deep breath.

“EVERYONE!” she yelled.

The arguing abruptly cut out. As one, they turned to her. Rivingtol stepped forward, concern on his face.

She hefted the shortcomm into the air. “We need to go down to the fourth floor.”

“What?” said the woman, baffled. “No, we need to—”

“Be quiet,” Eila snapped. The woman blinked in surprise, then her eyes narrowed as she opened her mouth to retort.

Eila barreled right over her. “Right now, my friend Tristan needs our help. He’s the one who disabled the lockdown on the ship. He’s the one who took the captain off this floor so we could have a chance. He’s the one who’s been fighting her, distracting her, all so that we could be safe. And he needs our help. So we are going to go down to the Ruby floor and do for him what he’s been doing for us this whole time. We’re going to save him.”

She cut off, chest trembling with anger and worry and a million other emotions. The faces of the others stared back at her. She tried to read their expressions, but tears blurred her vision, and she rubbed at her face angrily. No. No more tears.

“What does Tristan need?” Rivingtol said, stepping forward. A few others stepped forward with him.

She turned to them, hope sparking in her. “He needs eight minutes. We need to distract the captain and keep her engaged in combat until Tristan’s deck refreshes.”

Rivingtol nodded grimly. “Eight minutes.” He turned over his shoulder at the rest of the former hostages, who looked uncertain. “Whoever wishes to come help, come.”

“We shouldn’t split up,” protested a young, frightened-looking man.

“Then help,” Rivingtol said. “Or don’t. But know this. That young man is our best chance of survival right now.” He nodded to Eila and strode confidently towards the [Teleport Stone] at the back of the room.

Eila stood there, legs numb, as the others who’d walked up with Rivingtol followed.

Then a few more. Then more. Until all the able members of the Serenity strode towards the [Teleport Stone]. The injured and the young were left behind with a few decked adults remaining with them.

Eila ran over and joined Rivingtol at the front of the group. He turned to her.

“Did Tristan say anything about Sir Barrihald?” he asked softly.

Eila shook her head. “No, he didn’t.”

Rivingtol closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, there were tears. But also determination and anger.

“Let’s go,” he said, summoning his [Binder].

Tristan, Eila thought as a wave of [Binders] appeared through the grim, focused group. We’re coming.