The Stormrider drifted closer to the Iron Tempest, its crimson sails flapping uselessly in the dead air. The storm, once a howling beast, had quieted as though the sky itself held its breath.
Alistair Von Wolfenstein gripped the wheel with one hand, the other resting lightly on the hilt of his cutlass. His heart pounded a steady rhythm, each beat louder than the creaking of the ship beneath his boots.
The Iron Tempest loomed before them a floating fortress of ancient steel and twisting gears. Its hull seemed alive, glowing runes shifting like liquid gold across the metal. The main entrance, a massive set of black doors carved with swirling symbols, yawned open, an invitation laced with menace.
"We shouldn't be here," Isolde said softly, her voice a blade's edge.
Alistair smirked, though his fingers tightened on his weapon. "I've heard that before."
From the shadows at his side, Seraphina Blackthorn chuckled. "Usually right before something tries to kill you."
Alistair glanced at her the way the stormlight played along her sharp jawline, the flicker of something dangerous in her dark eyes. "And yet, here I stand."
"For now," Isolde muttered.
A sharp whistle echoed through the air.
The Black Marauder.
Captain Varik's ship hovered a short distance behind them, its cannons still glowing, though silent for now. Varik himself stood at the bow, his coat rippling, his clockwork eye gleaming like a dying star.
"Von Wolfenstein," Varik called, his voice smooth as oil. "Step aside. That ship doesn't belong to you."
Alistair's smile didn't falter. "Funny, I don't see your name on it either."
Varik's hand shifted toward his pistol. "Last chance."
Before Alistair could respond, Seraphina spoke, her voice a low purr. "We don't have time for your pissing contest, boys."
Alistair's grin widened. "She has a point."
Isolde's knuckles whitened around the hilt of her rapier. "Let's move."
Alistair gave the wheel a final twist, then turned to his crew. "Rogan, keep the Stormrider ready to fly. If things go to hell"
Rogan, cigar clenched between his teeth, nodded. "Aye, Cap'n. Just try not to die in there."
With one last glance at the storm-dark sky, Alistair stepped onto the gangplank leading to the Iron Tempest Seraphina at his left, Isolde at his right.
The doorway was a black maw, silent and waiting.
And they entered.
Inside the Iron Tempest…
The air within was thick not with dust, but with something else. An ancient weight. A presence.
The corridors were lined with brass and blackened steel, gears slowly turning along the walls, though there was no visible source of power. Strange symbols flickered along the floor, glowing faintly beneath their boots.
It was like stepping into the ribs of a sleeping beast.
Alistair ran a hand along the wall, feeling the faint vibration of the ship beneath his fingers. "She's alive."
Seraphina's gaze flicked to the glowing runes. "No skyship should move like this… unless it's bound by something unnatural."
Isolde's jaw tightened. "Magic."
Alistair's smile was thin. "Let's call it… advanced engineering."
A sudden hiss echoed through the corridor a blast of steam escaping from a hidden valve. The sound bounced off the walls, making the air feel even heavier.
They pressed forward, each step a gamble.
Until they reached the heart of the ship.
The Core.
The room was vast a domed chamber filled with rotating gears the size of buildings, all moving in synchronized, hypnotic patterns. In the center stood a massive sphere of dark metal, pulsing with blue light. The runes on its surface shifted, forming and reforming words in an ancient language.
Alistair's heart thundered in his chest.
This wasn't just a ship. It was something more.
Seraphina stepped forward, fingers trailing the edge of the sphere. "This… this isn't a core. It's a heart."
Isolde's voice was cold. "A heart bound by blood magic."
Alistair's hand went to his cutlass. "Meaning?"
Seraphina's voice was a whisper now. "Meaning someone died to make this ship fly."
The sphere pulsed a slow, rhythmic throb that felt disturbingly like a heartbeat.
Then
A gunshot.
The bullet struck the sphere, sending a cascade of sparks through the air.
Alistair spun, his cutlass already drawn —
And saw Captain Varik standing at the entrance of the chamber, a pistol still smoking in his hand.
"Looks like I found the heart of the beast," Varik said, a cruel smile on his lips.
His crew filtered in behind him, weapons drawn.
Alistair's blood boiled. "You just can't resist crashing my parties, can you?"
Varik's clockwork eye gleamed. "You have what I want, Von Wolfenstein."
Seraphina's daggers were already in her hands. "Over my dead body."
Isolde stepped closer to Alistair, her rapier pointed at Varik's throat. "I'd be happy to oblige."
The tension snapped like a storm-tossed sail.
Alistair grinned, his blade flashing in the dim light. "Guess we're not leaving quietly."
And as the Iron Tempest's core pulsed faster, the gears grinding louder
The battle for the heart of the storm began.