“…Salome! Salome! Wake up!”

  As Sori's anxious voice sliced through her dreams, Salome opened her eyes groggily and slowly sat up. "What is it…?" she asked in confusion, yawning behind her hand.

  “You have to get up! Something’s wrong!” Sori’s eyes darted back and forth, repeatedly glancing at the door as if she wanted nothing more than to flee immediately. Her pleading look dispelled Salome’s tiredness instantly.

  “What happened?” she asked, alarmed, but Sori shook her head.

  “I don't know! But something’s definitely off! Hurry and come upstairs!” With that, she spun around and bolted from the cramped cabin. Salome stared after her, bewildered. A glance through the window told her the night was slowly fading into morning. She quickly leaped from her bed, slipped into her boots, and hurried down the low passageway to the stairs. From outside came the sound of a strange commotion.

  When she pushed the door open and stepped out, she was greeted by the deafening cries and screeches of hundreds of birds circling the ship in a swirling mass. Startled, she halted and ducked her head instinctively.

  “Salome!”

  Van ran across the deck, shielding his head with his hands.

  “Van! By the pillars, what's happening here?” Salome shouted over the dreadful noise. The birds were pitch-black—all of them were ravens.

  “I don’t know! This swarm suddenly appeared out of nowhere and attacked the ship! I've never seen anything like it!”

  Sori crouched on the floor near the door, pressing her hands against her ears and fearfully watching the chaotic flight of the birds.

  “Where's Kiran?” Salome called out. Van pointed toward the steering cabin. Salome nodded, took Sori by the hand, pulled her upright alongside Van, and together they hurried across the deck. Van slammed his shoulder into the cabin door, opening it just long enough for Salome and Sori to enter, then quickly closed it behind them.

  Inside, Kiran stood at the window, arms folded, staring pensively at the swarm outside.

  “Kiran! What’s going on?” asked Salome. With four people, the cabin felt cramped, but at least the walls muffled the noise somewhat. “Why are these ravens attacking the ship?”

  Kiran remained silent, as if he hadn't heard her.

  “I’m getting a really bad feeling about this,” muttered Van, leaning anxiously on the control panel and looking out worriedly.

  “Probably,” Kiran agreed with him suddenly. He stared intently outside. “These animals are behaving strangely. But I don’t think they’re attacking us.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Salome, puzzled.

  In Fundament, ravens were considered harbingers of misfortune, always linked to disease and death. As a child, she'd been terrified of them, and it had taken years to see them simply for what they were: ordinary animals. Yet even now, a spark of unease flared within her every time she heard their guttural croaking.

  Kiran pointed to the window. “These ravens are frightened. It looks like they’re fleeing something.”

  “Then why are they here?” asked Van. “It doesn't make sense!”

  “I somehow get the feeling that they're… trying to warn us,” Kiran murmured. “But of what?” His eyes darted around, searching for something specific.

  Suddenly, Sori gave a strangled gasp. She raised her hand and pointed at an island not far beneath them. “There’s something down there!” she cried in alarm.

  In the gloomy dawn, the island was covered by a slowly drifting mist that lay like a burial shroud. Salome could barely make out the outlines of a dense forest beneath the fog, pierced by oddly shaped mountain peaks.

  At first, she wasn't sure what exactly Sori was pointing at. But then, as the wildly fluttering ravens suddenly scattered, she saw a single bird erupt from the mist like a fish breaking through the surface of water.

  It shot directly toward their airship.

  Its wings were beating extremely slowly, almost unnaturally, but as it drew closer, the reason for that became clear, as Salome gradually understood just how enormous the creature approaching them was.

  “By the pillars,” breathed Kiran, clenching his jaw. “That's a Dawnbird.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” muttered Van, his voice tense with dread. “But why…”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “What is that thing?” asked Salome urgently, noting the worry etched on the boys' faces.

  “Van! Take the helm!” Kiran shouted suddenly. “Head straight toward the sunrise! Don't stray off course, under any circumstances!”

  “What are you planning?” asked Van, gripping the steering wheel and casting a nervous glance out the window.

  Kiran grabbed a hook from the wall and used it to reach the round oil lamp attached to the ceiling, which flickered with a dim golden flame. Carefully, he took it down, then dropped the hook.

  “What are you planning?” asked Van skeptically, eyeing the lamp.

  “A flare,” replied Kiran curtly.

  “A flare? How are you supposed to make a flare out of that?” Van asked, incredulous.

  “This will be more than enough,” Kiran said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. “At least, I hope so,” he promptly added. “Salome, Sori—stay inside and under no circumstances come onto the deck!”

  He opened the door and sprinted a few steps across the planks. Reaching roughly the center of the ship, he sat cross-legged on the floor, holding the lamp tightly in both hands.

  Salome was about to shout something to him, confused—when suddenly, a piercing scream ripped through her very bones. She froze, rooted to the spot, unable to move even a single muscle. She hadn't actually heard the scream—not with her ears, of that she was certain—but rather felt it reverberate through her entire body. All other sounds—the rush of the wind, the humming of the balloon—vanished instantly. A shrill ringing echoed briefly in Salome’s ears before even that disappeared, leaving behind only silence, twisted and oppressive.

  Eyes wide in shock, Salome stared at Sori, who returned her horrified gaze. The silence spread within her, penetrating and filling her until she began to doubt that she’d ever truly heard any sound at all. And with the silence came emptiness—a deep void that fed on her heart, devouring her hope, her sorrow, gnawing at her joy and pain, causing old memories to surface and vanish again like raindrops soaking into parched earth.

  But Salome fought back. Instinctively, she knew she must not surrender to this unnatural silence. With pure willpower, she started pushing back the emptiness that threatened to consume her from within. She met resistance, but broke through it without too much difficulty, asserting her will firmly. With a determined shake of her head, she flung off the silence, tearing it away from herself like a disgusting spiderweb she'd inadvertently walked through.

  Immediately, the familiar rush of wind returned in full force, welcoming her like an old friend. She exhaled in relief, but this respite lasted only a moment, for she noticed another sound mingling with the wind: wingbeats. The heavy flapping of enormous wings.

  The sound felt strange, unreal, half-formed like a sinister premonition, seeming to come from all directions at once. A shadow passed in front of the window, and for a long, dreadful instant, the morning sunlight flickered and died like a weak candle flame.

  Salome suddenly noticed Van frozen in place, his hands locked stiffly around the steering wheel, slowly losing their grip. His face contorted in struggle, yet he couldn’t stop the ship from drifting off course.

  Away from the sunrise.

  “Van!” Salome gasped in horror. When he didn't respond, she shook his shoulder urgently and shouted again, louder this time: “Van!”

  He jolted awake as if from a nightmare, immediately wrenching the wheel back around so the ship once again faced the dawn.

  “Damn it,” he growled bitterly, “I hate this thing…”

  A violent jolt ran through the ship, accompanied by the tearing of fabric and the grinding of strained chains. Salome stumbled into Sori, knocking her from her stupor as well.

  “By the pillars!” Van cursed. “This birdy sure is in a nasty mood!” He glanced impatiently over his shoulder. “Kiran! What's taking you so long?”

  Kiran remained sitting on the deck, eyes shut tightly, murmuring to himself in deep concentration. The lamp in his hands continued to glow dimly, scarcely brighter than the first rays of morning sunlight.

  The colossal wingbeats sounded from somewhere above the ship, yet Salome still couldn’t see the creature causing them. Frightened, she clung to the doorframe, her gaze anxiously shifting back and forth between Kiran and the balloon above. Strangely, the terrifying beast created surprisingly little noise for all its violent thrashing about. Apart from the sinister, surreal flapping and occasional ripping of cloth, there was hardly anything audible.

  If things continued this way, they would surely crash.

  Another powerful jolt, followed by an ominous cracking sound, seemed to instantly confirm her fears.

  Van kept steering toward the sunrise with grim determination, clearly impatient for something to happen. What exactly was Kiran planning?

  Suddenly, Kiran snapped out of his trance and opened his eyes. He sprang to his feet, holding the small lamp above his head. Its glow rapidly intensified, becoming brighter and brighter.

  “He actually did it!” Van cried in relief.

  Salome squeezed her eyes shut against the dazzling brightness, forced to turn away. Another bone-chilling scream erupted, followed by the deepened silence that threatened again to swallow all sounds around her—but this time, the silence could not penetrate her inner world.

  Then, abruptly, the terrible wingbeats ceased altogether, as if Salome had merely imagined them.

  The brilliant light lasted a short while longer before gradually fading to a dull, ember-like glow within the lamp. Panting heavily, Kiran staggered back into the cabin and leaned wearily against the wall.

  “That was close,” he gasped.

  “What in the name of the endless pillars—” Salome began, but Van interrupted sharply: “Close is a ridiculous understatement!” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “That birdy went wild on our balloon! We’re losing altitude!”

  Alarmed, Salome looked outside. Indeed, the surrounding islands appeared to be drifting upwards slowly, confirming their descent. And there was also a distinct smell of burning fabric.

  Turning to the two boys, she asked, “And what do we do now?”

  Kiran still fought to catch his breath, but he drew in deeply and pointed at an island directly ahead, some distance below them. “We need to land, so I can check the damage. Van, if you'd be so kind?”

  Suddenly, Kiran slid slowly down the wall, sinking exhausted onto the floor.

  “Kiran? What's wrong?” Salome asked in alarm.

  “It’s fine, really. Just exhausted, that’s all,” he mumbled softly, barely able to keep his eyes open.

  Van turned back toward the controls. “Alright then, next stop: unknown island!”

  Salome peered out the window worriedly. The island was still quite far away, and their rate of descent seemed to be accelerating.

  She only hoped they could reach land in time…