Attiru’s best estimate for where we can access the Drifting Isles is on the west coast of Valenia, which is the opposite coast from Miasmere and Emrox, and that’s just fine with me. It’s also on this continent and not Dunmora, which Zyneth is relieved to learn. Apparently Dunmora isn’t as linked up with telepads as Valenia is, which would have added extra strain to his timetable.

  We head back to Harrowood—a trip I’m now becoming very familiar with—and stock up on supplies. Our next destination is a mountainous city close to the west coast called Fort Stalwart.

  As we wait for our timeslot for the telepad, Zyneth checks his bags over for the tenth time, ensuring he has all the tools, food, and various spell circles he needs.

  “You know I can do the Location spell,” I tell him as he shuffles through some looseleaf spell circles he purchased. “You don’t have to use a consumable one.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I need something that I can use,” Zyneth says. “Your Location spell is only visible to you: I need to be able to see the direction the spell is pointing us so I can use that information to better plot a course through the Isles. Not to mention, this one is also designed to indicate metrics such as elevation, which I believe yours does not.”

  He’s right on that account. I guess I need to level up my Location spell a bit more to gain access to information like that. I only have so much mana, though, and these last few weeks I’ve been spending most of it on my glass related spells.

  At least that resulted in some level ups. My Sculpt spell is now Level 15, my Chain is Level 11, and my Attune is Level 14. What that ultimately comes down to is that I can Sculpt giant pieces of glass for only a handful of mana, Chaining is practically free, and Attuning takes about one tenth the time it previously had for an equivalent volume of glass. My Attunement range has also expanded; I can control my glass and void within about a fifty-foot radius; though the predator can about triple that distance for void if we’re working together on it.

  And finally, I now regenerate mana at a rate of one point every thirty seconds. When I’d first started out as a Level 1 glass bottle, it had taken me a whole hour to regenerate 1 point of mana. Of course, then I only had 10 mana total to recover. Now, with 400 mana at my disposal, it takes me about three hours to fill my tank all the way. It’s amazing how much more comfortable and secure I feel knowing I don’t have to ration every point I spend.

  As I’m idly going over my stats, something tickles the back of my mind.

  The predator tenses, immediately on high alert, which startles me, too.

  What is it? I ask.

  Then I feel it. That faint mental pressure; that distant pull. We’ve felt this once before, that night at sea.

  I turn on sight in all the panes of glass in my head. Where is it? What is it? Is something watching us?

  No. The predator’s attention hones in on something to the west. It’s not watching, exactly, but it senses us, just how we can sense it.

  I tense, nervous prickles crackling over my soul. Do you know what it is?

  The predator isn’t sure. It’s… familiar. That’s all it can say.

  Good familiar, or bad familiar?

  It doesn't know. But it wants to go find out.

  “Kanin?”

  I start as Zyneth touches my arm.

  “You ready?” he asks. “They just called for Fort Stalwart.”

  “Right,” I say, following the others who have already started to step up to the platform.

  “Is something wrong?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s that feeling again. The thing we felt when we were at sea. Remember? When I was wondering if there were other void creatures in the world.”

  Zyneth frowns, glancing around the square. “Where is it coming from?”

  “Not in the city, I think.” I focus on what the predator is sensing, but it’s too abstract. It just feels the pull. The desire to go seek out its source.

  “Did you want to stay?” he asks, even as we step onto the pad. “There’s another timeslot for Fort Stalwart tomorrow.”

  “No,” I quickly say, even as I feel the predator’s urge to investigate increasing. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t think it could be anything good. If I wait a day, I might not be able to catch up to you all.”

  Zyneth looks concerned, and I don’t blame him. The predator is starting to get antsy. It doesn’t like this feeling of being observed. It feels like a challenge. It urges me to go look. I try to calm it down, sending it soothing thoughts, but its disquiet is bleeding into me.

  When the telepad finally activates, and the mental presence vanishes as we’re whisked halfway across the continent, I slump in relief.

  Fort Stalwart is as much a part of the mountains as it is in the mountains. The city is a castle, built to span the gap between two peaks, and as gray as the surrounding sky and rocks. There are details built into the stone which have been weathered almost smooth by rain and time.

  It’s also filled with humans. It’s the most humans I’ve seen in one place compared to any of the other cities I’ve visited. If it weren’t for all the harpies and dwarves, which also populate the city, I might have thought I was transported back to Earth.

  “It looks so old,” I remark as we step off the telepad and into the city streets.

  “It is,” Attiru says. “It’s speculated to be as old as the Ruins, actually. Since it’s not connected to an arcana source, however, the city was able to be repopulated. A lot easier to resettle a city that isn’t flooded with ambient magic and arcane animals.”

  No shit. And after encountering nightbanes from The Black Spire, and tempo squid around Emrox, I’m starting to wonder what other types of magical beasts we may face in the Drifting Isles.

  I really wish Attiru wasn’t coming on this trip. And Noli and Rezira, for that matter. They don’t need to be here, and I’d feel terrible if they got hurt.

  Though, now that I’m thinking about it, Zyneth probably feels the same way about me.

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  “Let’s find an inn near the top of the city,” Zyneth says. “I hope we won’t be staying very long, but it will be to our benefit to already start as high up as we can manage.”

  “Speaking of high,” I say, “what’s the plan for getting from this mountain and up into the Drifting Isles when it does show up?”

  “I don’t think that will pose a huge issue,” Attiru says. They gesture across the valley toward another mountain peak. A cloud is crawling over the mountain’s summit and spilling down its side. “I’d be more worried about the Drifting Isles crashing into the city.”

  “Does that happen?” I ask, alarmed.

  Zyneth shrugs. “Not a lot of people live at an altitude where the Drifting Isles might intersect. It’s possible it’s happened in remote areas without anyone noticing.”

  He doesn’t seem as alarmed by this as I think he should be.

  “But to answer your question,” Zyneth says, nodding ahead of us, “that’s how we will get into the cloud.”

  A hot air balloon is slowly rising from a lower tier of the city. It’s connected to a line, riding the track up toward another section. Many such balloons are connected this way, running up and down the city like beads on a string. Some are free flying, though they don’t move like the hot air balloons I’m used to; I suspect wind or fire magic is involved somehow.

  Noli takes a deep breath, and lets it out. “Whew. Anyone else here short of breath, or is it just me?”

  “I feel it too,” Rezira says. “This is a long way from Bluevine.”

  Zyneth and Attiru shrug. Their home, Mount Shale, was also probably a good amount above sea level. And I don’t have to breathe, so, hey, small victories.

  As we walk, Attiru consults their map, zooming in on our location and the cone of uncertainty where the Drifting Isles might be. They occasionally glance up at the cloudy sky, cross referencing it with their map. It’s probably a good thing they came with us, after all. I don’t know what we’re supposed to be looking for, apart from a giant cloud, of which there are many. Maybe Zyneth does. He always acts like he has a plan.

  “There!” Attiru suddenly shouts, causing Rezira and I to jump. They’re pointing across the valley. “That’s it!”

  “Already?” I ask, trying to find what they’re looking at.

  “The cumulonimbus,” they say, telling me absolutely nothing. “Watch its shadows.”

  We stand and watch for a moment. Zyneth swears. “You’re right. It’s here.”

  “What?” I ask. “What are we seeing?”

  Zyneth steps up beside me and points, shifting his arm to try to match my perspective. He’s gesturing to a cloud behind the nearest mountain peak. “Look toward the middle. Pay attention to the shapes.”

  I do as he says. The cloud is slowly drifting and changing in shape, white and gray patches fading into one another. Well, most of them do. The longer I watch, the more it seems like parts of the cloud aren’t morphing: like there’s something there, just beneath the surface, that the mists are swirling around.

  “How long have we got?” Zyneth asks Attiru.

  “I’m not sure,” Attiru admits. “I don’t know much about clouds. I can tell you that it’s about seven leagues away.”

  “One moment.” Noli steps in front of us, closing one eye and sticking her thumb out at arm’s reach. She waits there for a minute before dropping her arm. “I’d say it’s traveling at about three leagues per hour.”

  Zyneth glances to the horizon. “Then we have around twelve hours before we lose it and will need to port to a different city to try to cut it off there. Less than that, really, once night falls. Well, change of plans. We will not be getting an inn for the night after all.”

  “You think those balloons will be able to move fast enough?” I ask, watching another drift past.

  Zyneth begins walking once more, quickly this time. “We’re about to find out.”

  The port is near the top of the city, and has most everyone out of breath by the time we reach it. The Drifting Isles has continued to float slowly past the far mountain peak in that time, though it’s still well within sight. Zyneth, who barely seems fazed by the hike, does most of the talking, leading us from airship to airship, looking for anyone who would be able to take us on a fast, impromptu trip.

  “This is a silly question,” I say after the second pilot turns us away. “Shouldn’t we be keeping the ship there with us? I mean, do we have a plan to get down once we’re done?”

  “Shockingly, I do in fact have a plan for how we’ll get down,” Zyneth teases, “though it won’t be by airship. I doubt anyone here would be willing to sell us one, anyway. Not to mention, I’m unsure I would even be able to pilot it, and…” He hesitates. “I don’t have the coin on hand to afford one.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” He might be a prince, but even he doesn’t have an infinite amount of money. Actually, I wonder if what funds he does have access to might be running low. I’m still not certain what exactly his relationship is like with his family, but if it’s as bad as Attiru implied, not to mention the fact that Zyneth doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, they might have cut him off completely. I’ve been there.

  Finally, we find a pilot about to head out for the day who’s willing to take us with him.

  “One way?” the dwarf asks, skeptical. The man is leaner than I’d expect for a dwarf, with a short brown beard that doesn’t even reach his neck. “You sure about that? There’s nothing anywhere close to here, ‘side from more mountains.”

  “Quite sure,” Zyneth says. “We’re attempting to board the Drifting Isles before it passes.”

  The dwarf’s face lights up. “Are you, now? It’s been a few years since we’ve seen the Isles pass this way. Always a good opportunity for wyvern trapping.” He looks out over the dock, and almost immediately locates the cloud. “Well, I’ll be. Small blessings there isn’t already a rush. That’ll change in a few hours. Alright, get your crew aboard. We’ll push off in the next ten minutes.” There’s a hungry gleam in his eye. “You didn’t tell anyone else about it, did you?”

  The airship is rather like a blimp, with an open-air wooden deck suspended beneath an oblong balloon. There’s a strange metal funnel sitting on the back of the ship, and simple, stubby wings on either side. The base of the balloon has an opening, beneath which burns a live flame, like a hot air balloon. It doesn’t look like the fastest craft to me.

  Rezira peers over the bow, which is poking out over the edge of the air port, then pales and quickly retreats. She grabs a railing in the middle of the ship, knuckles white.

  “Never flown before?” I ask. I also peer over the edge, and my soul about drops through my feet. The predator also feels alarmed. The ground is very, very far away. I attempt to make my retreat look more casual.

  “You have?” she asks, skeptical.

  “Actually, yes,” I say. “Many times. Not here though.”

  “Really?” Zyneth heads over to me, leaning on the rail, the only one of us who actually appears unbothered by the drop and lack of sufficient seatbelts. Attiru has joined Rezira, while Noli is peering over the bow as well, though on her knees, barely tall enough for her head to peek over. “I didn’t know your home had such capabilities.”

  “Just because we didn’t have magic doesn’t mean we were completely useless,” I joke. I try to casually lean against the rail next to Zyneth, but the predator loudly objects. I wouldn’t have been able to make myself do it anyway. Christ, is that a drop.

  “Alright.” The dwarf—Flint, according to Echo—hops into the back of the ship, undoing the last of the ropes tethering us to the dock. “Everyone grab hold. Good, I see you’ve found the kiddy rails. If you’ve got loose hats or scarves, now’s your opportunity to stuff them in a shirt. Oh, and elf girl,” he adds to Noli, “you might want to hold onto that skirt of yours.”

  Rezira manages to translate this with one arm hooked around the rail. Noli complies, tying a ribbon around one of her calves and a corner of the skirt.

  “Good.” Flint glances over all of us. “Here we go.”

  Flint tosses the last rope back onto the dock, then hops up onto the raised platform that the center rails are surrounding. He lifts a hand to the balloon, summons a flame to his fingers, and stokes the fire. The floor shifts beneath my feet, the ship scrapes over the last of the dock, and then we’re off.

  My grip tightens on the rail, butterflies in my soul. Noli giggles nervously, clinging to Rezira, who herself is stiff and silent. Attiru looks much like Noli, a mix of excitement and nerves. Zyneth, meanwhile, is smiling, face turning into the wind, hair stirred by the breeze. Not the faintest hint of a worry in his brows. It might be the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

  It really hits me then—this is why Zyneth left. This is the kind of freedom that called to him. I let my grip on the rail relax a hair. It’s easier to forget about the height when he’s there looking so carefree and at ease. Maybe this ride won’t be so bad.

  Flint jumps back down from the balloon’s burners and retreats to the back of the ship. He summons another fire and holds it before the funnel-looking contraption I’d noticed before. He grabs a nearby brace with his freehand.

  “Alright,” he calls up to everyone. “Don’t let go, now.”

  The fire in his palm erupts into an inferno, which he points down the funnel. The flames condense as they race through the tube and jet out the other end. The ship lurches forward and the sudden burst of speed presses all of us back. Noli shrieks in delight, and Zyneth barks out a laugh, grabbing the rail with both hands.

  I’m pretty sure the rest of us are downright terrified as our airship rockets into the sky.

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