Kaelith's hand tightened around the hilt of his dagger as the woman stepped closer. Her boots squelched in the mud, but her movements were deliberate, almost predatory. The storm still raged around them, the wind whipping her dark cloak and the rain plastering her hair to her face. She stopped a few paces away, her sharp eyes scanning him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
"You've got some nerve," she said, her voice carrying over the storm. "Running through a shadow-infested forest in the middle of a tempest. Either you're brave or stupid. I haven't decided which yet."
Kaelith didn't lower his dagger. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.
The woman smirked. "I already told you. Zara Draven. Captain of the Windblade, scourge of the skies, and"—she gestured to the scorched ground where the shadow beasts had been—"apparently your savior."
Kaelith's eyes narrowed. "I didn't need saving."
"Oh?" Zara raised an eyebrow. "Because from where I was standing, you were about to become shadow beast chow. Lucky for you, I happened to be in the area."
Kaelith didn't respond. He was too tired to argue, and his arm still throbbed where the shadow beast had clawed him. He glanced down at the wound, wincing as he saw the dark veins spreading from it. The shadow's corruption. He'd seen it before, in the village. It was a death sentence if left untreated.
Zara followed his gaze and frowned. "That doesn't look good. You've got maybe a day before that thing spreads to your heart. Lucky for you, I've got a healer on my ship."
Kaelith hesitated. He didn't trust her—couldn't trust her. But what choice did he have? If he stayed here, he'd either die from the corruption or be hunted down by more shadow beasts. He met her gaze, his silver eyes searching for any hint of deception. "Why would you help me?"
Zara shrugged. "Call it professional curiosity. You've got a storm in your veins, and I've got a feeling you're worth more alive than dead. So, what do you say? You coming, or are you going to stand here and bleed out?"
Kaelith glanced back at the forest, where the shadows still writhed and shifted. He didn't have time to think, to weigh his options. He nodded stiffly. "Lead the way."
Zara's ship, the Windblade, was unlike anything Kaelith had ever seen. It was a sleek, airship with a hull of polished wood and brass, its sails shimmering with an otherworldly glow. It hovered above the treetops, tethered to the ground by a series of ropes and pulleys. Kaelith stared at it, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He'd heard stories of sky-pirates, of course, but he'd never imagined he'd see one of their ships up close.
"Impressive, isn't she?" Zara said, following his gaze. "Built her myself. Well, mostly. Had a little help from a mad engineer and a lot of stolen parts."
Kaelith didn't respond. He was too busy trying to keep up as Zara led him up the rope ladder and onto the deck of the ship. The crew—a motley assortment of humans, elves, and other races Kaelith couldn't identify—watched him with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion. One of them, a burly man with a scar across his face, stepped forward.
"Captain," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Who's this?"
"This," Zara said, clapping Kaelith on the shoulder, "is our new passenger. He's got a bit of a shadow problem, so be nice. Kaelith, meet Garrick. He's my first mate and resident grump."
Garrick grunted but didn't argue. He gave Kaelith a once-over, his eyes lingering on the wound on his arm. "He's not going to last long if we don't get that treated."
"Which is why I brought him here," Zara said, rolling her eyes. "Where's Lyra?"
"Below deck," Garrick said. "She's working on the engine again."
"Of course she is." Zara sighed and gestured for Kaelith to follow her. "Come on. Let's get you patched up."
The lower deck of the Windblade was a maze of corridors and rooms, filled with the hum of machinery and the scent of oil and metal. Zara led Kaelith to a small workshop, where a young woman with fiery red hair and grease-streaked hands was tinkering with a complex-looking device. She looked up as they entered, her green eyes narrowing behind a pair of goggles.
"Captain," she said, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I told you, I'm not fixing the stabilizers again. They're fine."
"Relax, Lyra," Zara said, holding up her hands. "I'm not here about the ship. We've got a guest who needs your expertise."
Lyra's gaze shifted to Kaelith, and her expression softened slightly. "What happened to him?"
"Shadow beast," Zara said. "He's got the corruption."
Lyra's eyes widened, and she set down her tools. "Sit," she said, gesturing to a nearby stool. "Let me take a look."
Kaelith hesitated but did as he was told. Lyra knelt beside him, her hands glowing faintly as she examined the wound. Her touch was gentle but firm, and Kaelith couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as the pain began to fade.
"This is bad," Lyra said after a moment. "The corruption's spreading fast. I can slow it down, but I can't stop it completely. Not without the right ingredients."
"What do you need?" Zara asked.
"Moonflower petals," Lyra said. "And shadowroot. Both are rare, but there's a market in Black Hollow that might have them."
Zara nodded. "Black Hollow it is. We'll set course as soon as the storm clears."
Kaelith looked between them, his brow furrowed. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "You don't even know me."
Zara crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Like I said, professional curiosity. You've got a storm in your veins, Kaelith. That makes you interesting. And in my line of work, interesting people are either valuable or dangerous. I'm betting you're both."
Kaelith didn't know how to respond to that. He was too tired, too overwhelmed. He leaned back against the wall, his eyes closing as Lyra continued her work. The storm still raged outside, but for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a flicker of hope.