Finally, he made it next to Yerin. “Apologies. I held on as long as I could.”

The ship pitched so far to one side that half the sky was replaced by an ocean of trees before Yerin corrected it. “We’re just a skip from some town. Long as there’s an Arelius family down there, we’re—”

The ship shuddered, and the lights on the control panel shone. Yerin growled with effort, gripping the sides of the panel so hard the wood splintered, her scars standing out brightly against her skin.

She shouted over the wind, sending another flare of madra into the panel. “Everybody hold tight!”

Lindon braced himself, gathering Little Blue in his left hand and holding the railing with his right. It was less than encouraging to know that if he stopped cycling madra to the limb he would immediately fly off and be lost to the wind, but that was all the more reason not to stop cycling.

The wind picked up, the boat shook, and they started to fall. Lindon couldn't tell if they were landing or crashing, and at that point, there might have been little difference.

[Oh look, the owl's still there,] Dross noted.

Lindon was determinedly staring at the deck and not looking over the edge of the railing, but Dross' comment made him realize he could see something at the edge of his vision. An owl—or at least a Remnant that looked like one—perched on the opposite railing. It was made of madra that looked like swirling silver smoke, edged with the occasional flicker of purple light.

The Remnant had been following them for days. Maybe ever since they left the island. It showed itself once or twice a day, as though to remind them that it was still there.

Lindon had tried to point it out to Yerin and Mercy, but the owl always seemed to vanish when they looked for it. Lindon might not have ever noticed it himself if not for Dross, as the thought-construct was far better at using Lindon's senses than Lindon himself was.

He didn't spare another thought for the owl. Some Remnants had strange, almost obsessive behaviors; maybe this one was stuck following cloudships. He certainly wasn't going to deal with it while they were in the middle of a crash.

The deck surged upwards, and Lindon almost thought they'd made a soft landing before he realized Yerin was pushing out the last of their cloud madra. After this surge, they would fall.

For lack of something better to focus on, he kept his eyes fixed on the owl.

Mercy sat up, staring at him. “Is it the owl? Is it here?” She craned herself around in her little nest of black madra, eager to see.

She had been desperate to catch a glimpse of the owl. She hadn't said why, but sometimes people could be superstitious about Remnants.

Silver light flared from the script in front of Yerin, and the console exploded into splinters.

The ship hung in the air for one brief, frozen second.

Yerin sighed.

Then the cloudship fell.

…roughly two feet.

It settled onto the ground with a crunch, rolling slightly on its side, and shuddering for another moment or two before it came to a halt. Lindon released his grip on the railing, sliding over to come to a stop next to Yerin.

He nudged her with his elbow. “Congratulations on your successful landing, captain.”

From behind them, Mercy cheered.

With her shoulder, Yerin lightly shoved him back. “Not the worst one of my life, I’ll give you that.” She eyed him. “You could have probably jumped down from the clouds and walked it off.”

“Well,” Lindon said, “thanks to you, I didn't have to.”

It had been strange for both of them, over the last week or two, now that they were at the same stage of advancement. The atmosphere between them had changed, and Lindon was still trying to figure out how.

The dark webs around Mercy dissolved in a rush of black motes of color, and she stumbled down the deck past them, bracing herself on her braided black staff so she didn’t slip. She looked back as she ran. “Next time, we should all jump!”

The ground rumbled as Orthos leaped over the side, landing on soft earth with a surge of relief that Lindon could feel. Gingerly, the turtle scooped up a bite of soil and grass, chewing with great relish.

Lindon released Little Blue from his hand, and she scampered off to go join Orthos. From inside Lindon's head, Dross gasped.

[Look, everyone! Look! Here come some friends! That’s a relief, isn’t it?]

Dross must have been sharing the message, because they all looked in the same direction at once.

They had landed in a clearing between trees, but the woods were thin enough that they had no problem seeing a nearby hill covered in low sandstone buildings. A large town or a small city—it was their destination, though none of them knew exactly where they were. They had simply planned to stop at the first town of any size to try and contact the Arelius family.

It would have been far easier to contact the Skysworn, who had agents all over the Empire. But given Lindon’s previous experience, a Skysworn squad would be as likely to execute everyone as to welcome them back.

Between Lindon and the town, only a few hundred feet away, a group of two or three dozen people had frozen in the middle of a celebration. Colorful ribbons were strung between trees, and they all wore fine clothing. There were a few different Goldsigns among the crowd: a green third eye in the middle of the forehead, a red flower of madra blooming over the heart, a wide and thick yellow-brown tail that was so dense it looked almost real.

Many of these onlookers were children, and the entire group stared at Lindon and the others with wide eyes. Some of them held drinks halfway to their lips.

But this wasn’t the group that had grabbed Dross’ attention.

[Wow, they were quick to show up, weren’t they? They must have been trying to catch up for days!]

Over their heads, on the horizon and approaching quickly, was a group of green Thousand-Mile Clouds. They were heading toward the cloudship’s wreckage.

Lindon’s heart clenched.

“Dross,” Lindon said aloud, “where did they come from?”

The clouds had gotten close enough that he could see their riders, wearing exactly what he had expected: deep emerald armor.

[Relax!] Dross said in a soothing tone. [They’re from the same organization as you are. Nothing to worry about! We can take it easy and let them carry us home. And look, they’re protecting us from every direction at once!]

Yerin whipped around to the other direction, checking to see if there were really people behind them as well. Lindon had no doubt there were, so he continued watching the group of approaching Skysworn.

“How many?” he asked.

[Four Truegolds, four Highgolds, and six Lowgolds,] Dross reported. [And I believe one Underlord. Nothing to worry about with him around!]

Orthos braced his feet, staring into the sky with eyes shining red. Little Blue stretched to her full six-inch height on his head, pointing into the sky and letting out a mournful flute note.

“The Empire is too big for a chance like this,” Orthos said. “We were hunted.”

“Don’t I just feel like the prettiest girl at the dance,” Yerin muttered, drawing her sword.

Seeing this, the people at the party began to run. Parents threw their food to the ground and grabbed their children, herding them back to the safety of the city. Lindon suspected the Skysworn would have evacuated the innocents as soon as they arrived, and indeed a pair of the Lowgolds broke off from the main group of Skysworn to dive for the fleeing party.