Blood soaked the dining room’s floor, while sobs saturated its air. Eila stared mindlessly at the row of toppled bodies, the former flight crew of the Serenity, all dead. The only person left was the captain, who stared at the bodies with horror and rage.

“And then there was one,” Dennier said with a grin. Blood splattered her face, creating a grim visage. She walked over to the captain, whistling.

“Enough!” the captain snarled. He glared up at the big, bull-like pirate holding him down. “I will die on my feet.”

The pirate looked at Dennier, who shrugged and nodded. The pirate stepped back, and the captain got to his feet, shivering with anger.

Dennier opened her mouth.

“I am Captain Feroc,” the man spat, cutting her off before she could ask the question. “I helm the Serenity and have been her captain since she first took flight. And I want you to know, pirate, that the moment we sighted your ship I sent a distress signal out to Airship Command on Advance.” He raised his voice and turned to look at the passengers. “Do you hear me? Help is on the way!” He turned back to Dennier with a sneer.

Dennier raised her brows. “Interesting,” was all she said before she pulled a card from her deck and cast it up into the air.

Out from the card burst a [Sky Wyrm]. Eila stared in horror at the flying beast, who roared so loud the chandeliers shook. The Summon was small for its kind but still massive; ten-feet-long with a wing-span larger than that and a jaw that could snap a grown man in two. Its beautiful sky-blue coloring contrasted with the sheer predatory rage contained in its growl.

Captain Feroc, shockingly, just sneered deeper.

“Go,” Dennier said, snapping her fingers at the captain.

In a blur of movement, the [Sky Wyrm] snapped forward and crunched down on Captain Feroc’s head. Screams rose as the monster threw its head back and swallowed, a visible lump passing down its throat.

Captain Feroc dropped down, another body added to the carnage. Eila stared, numb, as his [Binder] formed. Dennier picked it up, absorbed its contents, then took out her own [Binder]. She flipped through it, humming idly.

The wyrm flapped down onto the floor on its belly, folding its wings and nudging the pirate’s head.

Dennier patted the wyrm on the head, and the beast purred, the deep-throated sound rumbling the ground. Eila had an odd moment of disconnect; her brain refused to believe that this woman who had just callously and casually murdered twelve people could feel such a thing as affection.

Movement behind the captain drew her attention. She saw more pirates entering the room, herding in groups of frightened people in various states of dress. Some were half-naked, others in pajamas, others still in their evening wear. They’re rounding up everybody on the ship. She cast her eyes about, trying to see if Tristan was there, but he wasn’t.

The wyrm turned its attention to the hostages with a growl. Dennier grunted in satisfaction. She pulled out an [Item Card] and converted it.

Eila recognized it immediately; it was a long distance communicator, or longcomm for short. Dennier fiddled with it for a bit before clearing her throat.

“This is Captain Dennier of the Scapegoat pinging Airship Command Advance,” the captain said into the machine. She paced around the room, her boots splashing in the ever-widening pool of blood. “Do you read me?”

There was silence. The whole room, even the hostages who’d been sobbing, quieted.

“Airship Command Advance here,” came back a scratchy, uncertain voice.

“Ah, excellent. I would like to alert you that Captain Feroc of the Serenity is dead. I helm the ship now. I heard there was a distress signal sent out?”

Again, another moment of silence before the voice responded.

“That is correct,” said the voice.

“Wonderful. I would like you and everyone listening in at Command to know every passenger and employee of the Serenity, minus the flight crew of course, is currently my hostage. The moment I see a hint of an airship on the horizon, they’re dead. If you broadcast news of the Serenity to commstations, you’re dead. Do you copy?”

Someone gave a choked sob in the crowd before getting shushed.

“Captain Dennier,” came another voice through the longcomm. More authoritative. “This is Flight Marshall Erron. Let us speak through this. What are your demands? Why have you taken the Serenity off course?”

With a start, Eila looked out the window behind her. She hadn’t realized in the tumult of the situation, but the Serenity had changed directions. She could no longer see the moon through the window, and the positions of the stars had changed.

“What are your plans with the ship?” Flight Marshall Erron continued. “Have any other members of the Serenity, passenger or crew, been harmed?”

“Flight Marshall Erron,” Dennier said, her voice suddenly cold. “Let me be as frank as I can. You will ground all airships until my business is concluded. If a ship has already left port, tell it to return. You will refrain from telling any outside parties about the Serenity. Or else it will be a red sky.”

“How do I know the passengers and crew are safe?” Erron asked.

Dennier held the longcomm out to the hostages. “Scream,” she ordered.

The hostages remained silent.

Dennier whipped off a card from her deck and cast it into the crowd to the right of Eila. The card turned into a roaring visage of a dragon made of Air energy before it landed.

An entire group of people just burst apart in an explosion of blood and gore carried by buffeting winds. Some of them had been wearing tailored Armor as well, judging by the brief flashes of Armor red before they popped like berries.

The screams came then, in earnest. A small, analytical part of Eila registered that the card had been [Dragon Rush], an Expert-rank Air Attack card. The larger part of her screamed with the rest.

“There,” Dennier said to the longcomm. “Satisfied?”

Another silence. Then: “Please. We will follow your commands. Just don’t hurt anybody else.”

“Good. I’ll contact you in a couple hours.”

Dennier clipped the longcomm to her belt, then turned with a frown as a small boy ran into the room, crying the captain’s name. Was he a pirate too? He wore the same all-black outfit, though his clothes were a size too big. He pulled up beside Dennier and gestured for her to bend down. She did, and the boy got on his toes and whispered in her ear. She nodded curtly and gestured for an older pirate standing by to come to her.

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“Give him a communicator,” Dennier said, and the pirate nodded. He pulled a shortcomm he must’ve gotten from the [Binder] of one of the crew and gave it to the boy, who gave a little ooh at the fancy machine before running off again. Some kind of messenger?

“Here’s the situation now,” she barked, turning back to the hostages. “The only ones aboard this vessel capable of steering it are me and my crew. If by some miracle you pampered, cloud-skinned lot managed to overwhelm us, well, that leaves no one able to pilot the Serenity. That means a long fall and a quick death. Understood? Good. I have some business to attend to. I’ll be leaving you in the capable hands of First Mate Boll.” She nodded to the beefy, bull-like man, who scowled at the hostages. “He’s got quite the temper, so try not to make him angry.”

Dennier exited the room, a group of pirates peeling away and going with her. Boll stepped up in her place, his deck swirling around him. The rest of the pirates—ten of them—spread out around him, grinning with hungry looks in their eyes.

“Let’s get those [Binders] out, people,” Boll growled. “Nice and slow.”

—🃁—

Tristan heard screams followed by the sound of flesh ripping before the [Teleport Stone] spat him out. He fell with a thud and immediately leapt to his feet when he felt something on his arm.

It was the arm of the man who’d grabbed him at the last second, disconnected and ripped away from the rest of the body. Grimacing, Tristan peeled the arm away and looked around.

He wasn’t on the sixth floor; this floor had bright-red carpeting and the walls were painted with a vague Fire energy aesthetic. The Ruby floor? he thought, spinning around. The [Teleport Stone] must have malfunctioned and brought me here. It didn’t spit him out at the Stone on this floor, unfortunately.

Idle, amused voices down the hall. He cursed and ran the other way, trying to find the connecting corridor that would lead him to the Stone when a thought occurred to him.

He hastily pulled out the map of the airship from his [Binder] and converted it. It appeared in his hands, and he quickly looked at the next door he passed: Cabin 33C. He found it on the map and saw a corridor leading to the Stone down the hall and to the left.

He sped up, rounded the corner, and ran smack into somebody. Him and the other person fell to the ground with a grunt. Recovering, Tristan saw it was another one of the invaders, a tall woman cursing with her hand raised to her head. Her eyes widened as they made eye contact.

Tristan rushed forward and grabbed her arm, which was reaching for her deck. He thrust it down, making her curse, and gripped her by the head. He bashed it against the floor once, twice, thrice, over and over again finally her helmet—the bandana she wore—shattered, its Armor spent, and she fell unconscious. Her deck dissipated.

Breathing heavily, Tristan got to his feet. He had to resist the urge to throw up; not because of what he’d done but because he was hungover and that was a lot of rapid, jerking movements.

I really need to heal, he thought, continuing down the hall. He reached the corridor that led into the [Teleport Stone] and slowed, peering around the corner.

He pulled his head back immediately. Shit. There were two invaders there, standing guard. They were lounging about, laughing with each other; clearly, they hadn’t heard what had just happened. Tristan quickly opened the map again, scanning desperately for another way up to the sixth floor when his eyes snagged on something.

He had seen these cabins earlier when he was looking at the map in his room with Eila. There were a number of deluxe cabins on this floor, all set along one windowed wall on the side of the floor opposite from him. Some of them were dubbed Duke Cabins. They had the symbol of a card with an S. Rooms with this symbol had the lockdown zone disabled, but only for Support cards.

A likely suicidal idea came to him. He took a dangerous second to contemplate another way. No, it won’t work. The corridor’s too tight, and I can’t risk damaging the Stone.

He got lucky being sent to this floor in one piece; he still remembered the feeling of the man’s arm clutching his.

He memorized the numbers of the Duke cabins instead and put the map away before pulling out three [Devourer’s Carapaces] and a [Mandible]; he’d dropped his earlier one when he got hit by the Trap.

He held the mandible [Item Card] in his mouth, stuffed two of the carapaces into his pockets and converted one. The sheer size of the Devourer meant a piece of its carapace was essentially a shield. There was no easy way to grip it from the inside, however, so he had to hold it with his hands on the sides.

Voices raised behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw two other invaders who’d been chasing him checking on the woman he’d knocked unconscious. One of them cast a heal card of some sort on the woman, who groaned, and the other raised a card at him.

He slipped inside the corridor as a gust of wind screamed down the hall. The invaders standing at the Stone turned to him, their eyes wide in surprise. Tristan ducked back out and thought, God I hope this works.

He activated {Flight}. His wings sprouted, and he shot up into the ceiling, slamming against it painfully just as another Attack screamed down the hall. A timer appeared in the corner of his vision, showing him how many minutes he had left on the Perk.

He flew down the hall in a burst of speed, the shouts of the invaders behind him following him. He reached the corner in seconds, too fast to slow down; he rammed into a door, making it shudder and something in his right shoulder broke. He bit down a snarl of pain and continued flying left.

A card shot out from the corridor connecting this hallway to the [Teleport Stone]. It landed on the wall right as he flew past, and the Trap triggered, another [Maelstrom Pocket] that exploded in a flurry of sharp wind. More cuts sliced across his face and feet, as he landed roughly in the corridor where an invader waited. The Armor on his wings flashed worryingly.

The invader here launched an Attack; Tristan lifted his carapace as a blast of wind rocketed him, making him stumble backwards, but the carapace took most of the damage. He heard the invaders grunt in surprise as he tossed that carapace aside, converted another one from his pocket and took to the air back towards the hall.

A moment later, a card flew past him and a Summon popped out, blocking his way. Another [Sky Harpy]. It seemed like these people, whoever they were, had similar decks. Tristan held the heavy carapace loose in one hand and pulled the mandible [Item Card] from his mouth with the other, converting it.

The harpy flapped its wings, letting loose razor blades of wind that cut into his [Gemrock Leggings], depleting some of its Armor. He ignored it and flew forward, slamming into the Summon with his mandible and stabbing the monster in the chest.

Its shrieks filled the air as he pushed past, leaving the mandible inside the beast. He hefted the carapace with two hands as he flew out of the corridor and back out into the main hallway.

A flurry of Attacks shot towards him from the invaders’ who’d been chasing him; ready, he twisted mid-air and braced against them all with the carapace, knees up over his torso. It shattered after the second Attack, and the third struck him on the legs, forcing him back in the direction he needed. Tristan pinballed painfully against the ground, sucked in a pained breath, and took to the air again.

He heard a series of noises behind him that his well-trained ears recognized as a dash. He converted his last carapace and burst off, his mind and body at its limits. He reached the corner and sharply pulled to a flying halt, not wanting to slam into a door again. Pivoting mid-air, he burst down the hall, checking the amount of time on his Perk.

One of the invaders that was guarding the Stone burst out from the corridor on this side. The burly man wasted no time, letting loose a spray of Attacks that took up the entirety of the hall. Tristan loosened his wings, dropping him to the ground, and rolled into the cabin beside him, its door already broken open.

The Air Attacks barreled down the hall. Directly across from this room was Duke Cabin 1A, its door closed.

Tristan flew to the back wall of this cabin. He braced his legs against the wall, the remaining carapace over his head, and pushed forward, flexing his wing muscles as hard as he could.

He rocketed forward like a cannonball and shot straight through the closed door of Duke Cabin 1A;the door exploded as he flew through and crashed into the wide window on the other side. He dropped to the ground, a part of his mind noting that the window didn’t even crack.

Tristan immediately got to his feet, wings flapping him up, and summoned his deck. The cards swirled around him; all but the Support cards were grayed out. He used all his casts of [Healing Concoction] and [Mountain’s Embrace].

The Adept-rank heal rushed through him like a river, Earth energy suffusing his body. He felt like he’d just plunged into a cold bath, his senses sharpening, the wounds on his head and feet closing up, his shoulder fracture setting. But most importantly, he no longer felt hungover. [Mountain’s Embrace] glowed around him, a strong gray shell covering his body.

The invaders pulled to a halt in front of the doorway. One of them—a scrawny man with a mop of brown hair—flung a card through. It dissipated the moment it passed through the frame. An Attack card that could no longer operate within this zone.

“What are you going to do now, rat?” the man snarled. “You’re stuck in here with no way out.”

Tristan laughed. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” he snarled back. “Now, you’re all dead.”

He pressed his back against the window and cast [Backstep], plunging out into the open air.