The door groaned one final time before the hinges gave way.
"Jump!" I shouted.
Flames and fury raged as Marlik and I vaulted onto the airship. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid tang of burning metal; every heartbeat pounded like a drum of war. In that searing moment, as cannon fire roared and bullets sliced the sky, I felt the ghost of a past life—a time when I was a master of combat—coursing through my veins. Every move was instinct and memory, a defiant echo of the warrior I once was.
We landed amid chaos on a deck slick with oil and blood. Brass and steel groaned under the assault as enemy soldiers surged from the swirling haze. I dove into the fight, my blade slashing through the searing air as sparks erupted with each calculated strike. A flash—a soldier's sneer barely visible beneath a battered hood—burst from the shadows. He lunged forward, his sword a jagged whisper of steel. My muscles reacted before my mind caught up: I sidestepped, the cold kiss of my dagger biting through his exposed flank.
Flames roared, smoke clawed at the sky, and the wind howled through the shattered hull of the airship. Gunfire cracked through the chaos, flashing like lightning in the dark.
Another soldier spun toward me, hands tightening around the mounted gun. Too slow. I lunged—but my body was sluggish, weaker than I remembered. The motion that should have been effortless now felt strained, like moving through water. My shoulder slammed into him, but there wasn't enough force behind it. Instead of toppling, he stumbled, regained his footing, and swung the butt of his rifle into my ribs.
Pain exploded through my side. I gasped, staggering back, the air ripped from my lungs. He pressed forward, driving a fist into my gut. My knees buckled. Damn this body. I barely managed to twist away as the next blow came, feeling the rush of air as it narrowly missed my skull.
He reached for a knife. I had seconds. Instinct took over. My arm snapped up, deflecting the blade just enough to send it slicing across my shoulder instead of my throat. Pain burned through me, but I moved with it. I caught his wrist, twisted until tendons snapped, and wrenched the blade free.
My grip faltered—too weak. He snarled, shoving forward, and we crashed into the metal railing. His strength was overpowering, his weight pinning me down. He was winning.
No.
I let go of the knife, forcing my shaking hands to move differently. I drove my thumb into his eye. A shriek tore from his throat as he reeled back. That opening was all I needed. My fingers found his dropped knife, and I buried it deep into his neck.
Hot blood sprayed over my hands as his body convulsed. He gurgled, clawing at the wound, but the light in his eyes was already fading. He slumped forward, dead weight, forcing me to shove him off before I collapsed with him. My breath came in ragged gasps. Every muscle screamed in protest.
Marlik, meanwhile, was butchering his way through the remaining soldiers with the ease of a man built for war. A bayonet came at him—he sidestepped, his axe whistling through the air, and the soldier's head left his shoulders. Another enemy fired a pistol. Marlik barely moved, letting the shot whizz past before closing the distance and driving his blade through the man's chest. He twisted, yanking it free in a spray of crimson.
By the time I managed to push myself upright, it was over. The deck was a graveyard. Bodies sprawled in twisted heaps, their blood pooling in the grooves of the airship's metal floor. Smoke curled around us, the scent of death thick in the air.
I wiped my bloody hands on my tattered coat and turned to Marlik, who grinned through the carnage.
Our relentless advance finally led us to the heart of the ship: the control room—a sanctum of brass, glass, and mystery amid the chaos. Inside the control room, as I had anticipated, was only one man sitting at the bridge. His eyes darted around the room, looking for a gun. I picked up a gun from a soldier's corpse. The soldier lifted his hands in the air, pleading, "Please don't kill me—I am just a pilot, I have a daughter!" I smirked devilishly.
"Wait…" Marlik said.
But before he finished, without hesitation, I shot.
Leaning casually against a polished metal panel, Marlik's eyes shone with mischief and challenge. "Ever driven an airship before?"
I shook my head.
He teased, his voice blending confusion with amusement. "Maybe next time, try not to kill the pilot. Who's going to drive the airship now?" Marlik quipped as he dispatched his target with swift efficiency.
I didn't reply. My gaze remained fixed on the flickering controls as their lights and buttons danced like spectral guides before me.
Before me, a symphony of lights and levers pulsed with life. The airship's controls whispered secrets of modern mechanics, each button glowing in cryptic patterns that stirred something deep within me. To me, the machine was more than metal and steam—it was a living entity, ready to carry us away from the smoldering ruins of Ashenfall.
I walked into the cockpit, my breath still ragged, hands slick with blood. Before me, a tangled array of dials, levers, and glowing symbols pulsed with an alien rhythm—shifting patterns that made no immediate sense. The airship trembled beneath my feet, its engines coughing like a dying beast.
I had no idea how to fly this thing.
The controls were a labyrinth of the unknown, but chaos was my guide. I exhaled, letting my thoughts scatter like shattered glass, embracing the randomness—the dance of probability. My fingers twitched, moving before logic could interfere, drawn to flickering buttons as if responding to some unseen current.
A lever. A wheel. A row of pulsing glyphs.
I seized the closest control, yanking it without knowing what it did. The ship lurched, nearly pitching me forward as gears ground together in protest.
"Fuck," Marlik swore behind me. Smoke belched from the side vents. The world outside tilted. For a breathless second, it felt like we would plummet straight into the flames below.
Then—correction.
The ship shuddered but didn't fall. My hands found another switch, flipping it in blind faith. A deep, resonant hum rippled through the metal beneath my feet. The airship groaned, resisting, then suddenly answered.
In the back of my mind, the scattered chaos of the controls aligned into something more than randomness—a pattern forming in the static. I didn't think. I reacted. Turning the wheel just as an unseen force nudged me to do so. Adjusting a dial as if I had always known its purpose. I wasn't piloting the ship—it was speaking to me, guiding my hands, whispering what it needed, what it craved. Below, the industrial wasteland shrank, flames dwindling as we rose into the storm-heavy sky.
Marlik's voice broke the charged silence. "How did you do it? First you revived a dead forge, and now—this?"
I exhaled slowly. "Why did Ashenfall fall?"
Marlik's eyes flickered with a mix of bitterness and wonder. "Not because of the forges, but because someone defied the gods. Ashenfall died for science."
"Exactly," I said. "Nimua—the high lord—discovered an equation. Think of it as a mathematical incantation that unlocked the latent power in every man. It wasn't magic, as you'd call it—it was forbidden science. His discovery shook the gods to their core."
Marlik narrowed his gaze. "So, you're saying it was all about chaos?"
I leaned in, voice low and steady. "Not just chaos. There's order too. Every choice, every moment, ripples out and reshapes destiny. My presence here might tip the scales—either reducing the world to ashes or igniting a thousand years of freedom."
The weight of my words hung between us, charged with the promise of epic change. Marlik's expression shifted from skepticism to reluctant admiration—a silent acknowledgment of the stakes we faced.
"Then what is it you propose, Stephen?" he asked, his tone steady but urgent.
"Whilst I was in Tartarus, I navigated a billion probabilities to find this one slender path—a path that demands we gather nine warriors. Warriors forged in strife, destined to stand against the gods themselves. I will craft for them weapons powerful enough to challenge the divine order, weapons forged in blood and fire. But heed this, Marlik: on this path, death is the only sure outcome. I can promise nothing but the certainty of sacrifice."
Marlik's gaze held mine, his eyes alight with a mix of determination and wariness. "And what exactly do you have against the gods, Stephen?" he pressed, his tone barely above a whisper yet weighted with challenge.
I paused, pain filling my heart even before I could think of it. For a long, suspended moment, the hum of the ship and the distant rumble of a gathering storm bore silent witness to my confession. Outside the ornate windows, dark clouds emerged—it would soon rain. The rain reminded me of Elara; that one night we made love by the riverbank under sheets of heavy rain. Even as I reminisced, a deep, burning intensity stirred within me.
Marlik's voice broke the reverie once more. "So we gather nine warriors and set forth to challenge the gods themselves?" he asked, his tone mingling awe with a resolute acceptance of our perilous mission.
I nodded.
Stepping away from the helm, I approached the mirror. Gazing into it, I saw the haunting reflection of a world reborn—a realm where every familiar landmark was scarred by time and conflict. It was as if time had been upended, leaving me the reluctant witness to both ruin and the possibility of redemption. "This was not my world," I muttered under my breath.
Marlik's soft voice broke through the charged air. "So, Stephen… what exactly do you have against the gods?" he pressed, his eyes alight with anticipation.
"I paused, pain filling my heart even before I could think of it. For a long, suspended moment, the hum of the ship and the distant rumble of a gathering storm bore silent witness to my confession. Outside the ornate windows, dark clouds emerged—it would soon rain.
For a fleeting moment, the chaos around me began to fade into a distant murmur. In that brief, suspended silence, memories of gentler times crept in—of quiet nights filled with whispered promises, soft laughter under starlight, and the delicate warmth of a tender embrace. It was as if the violent present was momentarily replaced by a world where love and solace reigned, a stark counterpoint to the blood and fire surrounding me.
The rain reminded me of Elara; that one night we made love by the riverbank under sheets of heavy rain. Even as I reminisced, blood rushed to my loins.
I cleared my throat, my gaze fixed on the storm fast approaching beyond the ornate windows. "Listen closely…" I began, my voice low and tremulous with the weight of untold sorrow and epic love.
Marlik's eyes searched mine, filled with unwavering anticipation. In that charged silence, he waited.
"Like every great story, mine is born of love—a love that defies space and time—a love that defies the very cosmos." I stared deep into the black skies as her face appeared in my mind, just as it did the first day I saw her. Her hair, a radiant cascade of fiery red curls, wild and untamed, glowed like embers in the fading sun. Her eyes, deep amber with flecks of gold, flickered between warmth and defiant intensity. Her lips, soft and supple, bore a beauty mark just above the left side of her upper lip.
Marlik's gaze never wavered; he leaned in, the anticipation in his eyes a silent promise that every word would reshape our destiny.
I opened my mouth, ready to begin my story…