The Stormrider sliced through the night, its crimson sails catching the wind as the skyship left the burning wreckage of Vandrel's Reach behind. The Iron Fang was now little more than a wounded beast limping through the clouds, its captain likely cursing Alistair Von Wolfenstein's name into the storm.
Alistair leaned against the ship's polished brass rail, the scent of smoke and gunpowder still clinging to his coat. His cutlass, now cleaned of blood, hung loosely at his hip. Though the fight was behind them, the adrenaline still thrummed through his veins a familiar, almost welcome sensation.
"What now, Captain?" Rogan growled, stomping up the deck with his ever-present cigar clenched between his teeth. "We can't stay in the open sky for long Draven's dogs might've tucked tail, but they'll be back with friends."
Alistair didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted past the drifting clouds toward the horizon where another city hung Blackport, a floating fortress of steel and shadows, suspended by massive steam engines and tethered to skyships like a spider at the center of its web.
"Blackport," he finally said. "We'll dock there."
Rogan's one good eye widened. "Blackport? That cesspit's worse than Vandrel's Reach. You're leading us straight into a pit of vipers."
Alistair's grin was sharp as a cutlass. "Then I suppose I'll have to charm the snakes."
Behind him, Seraphina Blackthorn's soft laugh cut through the wind. "Charming snakes is all you seem to do, Von Wolfenstein." She stepped up beside him, her dark cloak billowing in the wind, and those dangerous daggers still strapped to her thighs. "But Blackport has more than sky pirates and thieves. It has secrets the kind we need to find the Iron Tempest."
Alistair arched an eyebrow. "And you, Lady Blackthorn? How many of those secrets do you already know?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Enough to know we're not the only ones searching for the Tempest. And enough to know someone's already willing to kill you for it."
For a moment, their gazes locked a spark of unspoken tension crackling like a storm about to break.
Then Rogan cleared his throat. "Right, well, if we're docking at Blackport, I'll see to the crew. Just try not to get us all killed, Cap'n."
As Rogan stalked off, Alistair turned back to the helm, his mind a whirl of gears and intrigue.
Hours later, Blackport loomed before them a monstrosity of steel and rust, suspended by thick chains and massive steam engines that roared like beasts beneath the floating city. Bridges of iron crisscrossed between looming towers, while airships hovered at various docks like mechanical vultures waiting for their next meal.
The Stormrider glided into port, its arrival met with a flurry of activity sky sailors shouting, merchants hawking black-market goods, and shadowy figures slipping through the fog-drenched streets.
"Welcome to Blackport," Seraphina murmured, a wicked glimmer in her eye. "Where your coin disappears faster than your honor."
Alistair chuckled. "Good thing I'm always short on both."
They disembarked, Alistair flanked by Seraphina and Rogan, the crew remaining on high alert as the Stormrider was secured.
The streets were alive with danger clockwork automatons patrolled the alleys, gears clicking with every movement, while masked figures bartered stolen artifacts and forbidden tech from makeshift stalls.
And then, Alistair saw her.
A woman stood at the far end of the dock, framed by the steam rising from a nearby vent. She wore a high-collared coat of midnight blue, the leather hugging her figure like a second skin. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, cascaded down her back, and her lips painted a deep shade of crimson curled into a smile the moment she saw him.
"Alistair Von Wolfenstein," she purred, her voice a silken blade. "I was wondering when you'd crawl back to Blackport."
His heart thudded a little too hard against his ribs.
"Isolde Greaves," Alistair said, his voice smooth, though a storm brewed behind his roguish smile. "Still breaking hearts and bending knives, I see."
Isolde stepped closer, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of a slender rapier strapped to her waist. "And you're still running from the messes you create."
Beside him, Seraphina stiffened a subtle shift, but Alistair caught it.
The air between the three of them was a crackling fuse, waiting for a spark.
Isolde's gaze flicked to Seraphina. "And who's this?" Her smile was all teeth. "Another one of your conquests, Captain?"
Seraphina's answering smile was just as sharp. "I'm his partner," she said, voice laced with a quiet threat. "In more ways than one."
Alistair felt the tension like a dagger at his throat and, truth be told, he didn't mind it one bit.
Isolde's smile didn't falter. "How charming."
Before the situation could spiral into bloodshed or something equally dangerous, Alistair stepped between them. "Ladies, as much as I enjoy being the prize in this particular tug-of-war, we have a ship to find."
Isolde's smile dimmed, replaced by a steely gaze. "The Iron Tempest. You think you can find it?"
Alistair leaned in close too close. "I don't think, Isolde. I know."
For a breathless moment, they hovered there a hairsbreadth away from rekindling old fires or setting off new explosions.
Then Isolde turned on her heel. "Follow me," she said over her shoulder. "I know someone who might have the next piece of your puzzle."
As they walked deeper into the heart of Blackport, Alistair allowed himself a small, secret smile.
The storm wasn't coming.
It was already here.