Kerstel came into view after a few more minutes.

  It was a little larger than he’d been expecting. The centre of the island was a vast, grassy plateau that, if he’d recalled correctly, was a day’s trek across. From one side to the other.

  He didn’t know how he knew, only that, with his use of the Memory Chain, he’d absorbed the knowledge at some point.

  He’d absorbed a lot of information about Kerstel, though it struck him as foreign. This little island should’ve seemed like home, but nothing about it seemed welcoming. The walls of Northvel, the glowing orange windows and smoke-chuffing chimneys, the frozen waterfall and icy rooftops—they were home, now.

  But this was necessary for the revelations. This place still moulded him into who he was, even if he couldn’t remember it.

  Rocky cliffs rose up from a broad gravel beach, and spires of rock offshore broke the waves. Approaching from the northeast, there were no cities, but a few settlements stood up on the grassy plateau. Sheep munched at grass and weeds within the pastures, but outside, the plateau’s knee-high grass and shrubs grew uncontrollably. There was no snow on the island yet, only a dreary, grey sky and a dull drizzle of rain and sea-mist.

  “So, Elfy?” Alyus asked. “You grow up in Daenovan, or some place else?”

  Daenovan was Kerstel’s biggest port, but it was on the southeast coast—facing toward Aerdia. It was natural to assume so, but it wasn’t true.

  “Best I know, as the Chain shows, I was born in Darekshore, up on the north coast,” Pirin replied.

  “If they were going to hide him,” Nomad said, “Daenovan would have been too obvious.”

  “Hide me?” Pirin tilted his head.

  “Well, you didn’t exactly grow up in Sirdia, now, did you? They hid you away from the world, knowing you’d be at risk, until you grew old enough to form a Reyad. And we see how that went.”

  Pirin grimaced. “Yeah.”

  But something wasn’t lining up. The Sundering, in which the old line died out. Then him, a supposed successor, who wasn’t from that line at all. Yet he still had deep spiritual roots, and the Eane had marked him as nobility with black hair.

  When he got ashore and had a moment to rest, he’d use the Memory Chain. There had to be a clue, some kind of hint within to tell him what had happened.

  “Never been to Darekshore,” said Alyus. “Though I figure it’s pretty tiny.”

  “Look for a cove on the shore-cliff,” Pirin said. “There’ll probably be smoke seeping out of it, and if we’re lucky, a little bit of light.”

  It was midday, but the clouds above were thick, and barely any light seeped through to the shore. Besides, even in all his memories, Darekshore was always burning torches and candles and rushlights just to keep the place lit.

  A strong wind pushed against the Featherflight’s sails, guiding the airship up around the coast and over the choppy waves. Pirin and Brealtod climbed up to the axial catwalk to tighten the ballonets and bring them down. Once they had all the ballonets fastened as tight as they could, Pirin ran back to the gondola while Brealtod waited, at the ready in case he needed to expand them quickly and give them altitude.

  “There!” Pirin exclaimed, pointing out the gondola’s front window. To their left, the north shore of the island filled the horizon, now, and its curves and bays and juts all contributed to a winding coastline, and there were plenty of coves and tiny caves all along it. Rushing waves and crashing ice had pockmarked it into a gray sponge toffee.

  A column of smoke rolled over the lip of one cove, steaming up into the sky and whisking away in the wind. Flickering torchlight spilled out onto the gravel shores, flagging down approaching guests.

  “I see it,” Alyus said. “We can’t land on the coast. One shift in the wind, and we’ll smash right into the cliff wall, or get blown out into one of those spires, and they’ll puncture us like a waterskin.”

  “The upper plateau is fine,” Pirin said. There were no major settlements up top—nothing within sight—and it was probably better that way. No need to scare the local villagers with an airship landing right on their coast, right in front of them. “But watch out for the razorweed, and try to stay as high as you can. Don’t need that slashing up the envelope too.”

  “Will do,” said Alyus, then spun the rudder wheel. Pirin ran up beside him and gripped the elevator wheel, so Alyus could guide the ship with both hands, but Alyus said, “Give me three spins down. Angle the elevators down, and we’ll take a drop.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Understood.” Pirin spun the wheel as directed, and the ship obeyed. They descended to the upper plateau and settled down on the grass. The gondola crushed a pile of weeds with knife-blade fronds, and the bottom tail fin only hovered a few inches above the soil. They threw down mooring lines and stakes and tied the ship down as best they could, then dropped the sails.

  “Unless you want to come with me,” Pirin told Alyus and Brealtod, “you two can wait here. It…might actually be better if you do.”

  “Given this island is controlled by the Dominion,” Nomad added. “If we need to make a quick escape, I reckon we’ll need you two ready.”

  “ ‘Course,” Alyus said. “No need to visit some little fishing town.”

  “Whaling town,” Pirin corrected him. “Or, former whaling town. The big Dominion ships sailing the fishing lanes…well, they kinda scared most of the lumawhales off, and the industry dried up.”

  “Yet another point to tally,” Nomad said with an I-told-you-so cadence. “It’s a perfect place to hide someone.”

  “I’ll get us an answer.” Pirin looked directly at Nomad with his good eye. “You’re coming with me, right?”

  “I think that’d be prudent, if we’re aiming to fulfill your next two revelations.”

  “I’ll advance as soon as I complete the next two revelations?” Pirin asked. He stepped out of the gondola and hopped into the knee-high grass, then trudged toward the stern and the now-permanently open cargo hold.

  “Not necessarily,” Nomad continued. “At the end, you’ll need to trigger the Path revelation, which will consume all the Essence in your system and burn it into a new substance. An essential substance to Wildflame techniques—a soul-pith, quintessence. Or, commonly, Essentia. It bolsters our techniques, linking us closer with our Familiar, and crossing that deep river between us. It enhances, turns more robust, and is closer to the Eane itself. In doing so, you’ll craft the beginnings of an inner-world.”

  Pirin ducked under the envelope of the airship and peered inside the stern cargo hold. Gray laid in her nest at the edge of the cargo platform, but upon seeing him, she hopped to her feet and jumped down to the grass.

  So this is Kerstel, huh? she asked. She grabbed a clump of grass in her talons and pulled on it, severing it. We must’ve gone farther south than I thought if there’s no snow.

  “The ocean currents wash around the island, bringing warmer weather with them,” said Pirin. “Otherwise, Kerstel would be frozen over right now.”

  They ran back out from beneath the airship, then stood side-by side with Nomad. Pirin turned to the older man and asked,“An inner-world? What’s that?”

  “Corespace, self-storage, it has many names. But it can be bent to a greater purpose later on. Though no wildflame of our generation has managed that, yet, it is a process of embodying a greater concept and using it to enhance your form. The runemark expands.”

  “I think I encountered something like that. When I used the Whisper Hitch and…well, ended up inside our souls.”

  Nomad chuckled. “A plane of white light?

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s the base of your inner world, I’ll give you that.”

  “Can I store stuff in it, then?”

  “Yes, but only with practice.”

  “Would you teach me on the journey back?”

  Nomad nodded. “We can try.”

  But for now, they couldn’t spend too much time on Kerstel. There would be Dominion patrols along the upper plateau, hunting for rumrunners and any local scoundrels who didn’t want to be found. Sooner than later, an airship would draw their attention.

  Pirin led the way across the plateau, then paced back and forth until he uncovered a trail down the cliff face that he just knew was there. It was just an innate knowledge within his mind, reclaimed from the countless hours reviewing his training as a healer. Memories of Kerstel came flooding back as a by-product.

  The trail wound down a slightly less steep face of the cliff. Gravel and mud made the path slippery, and he had to watch each step he took with great care. Nomad used his staff as a walking stick, and Gray just fluttered down from the top.

  “Shoulda done that, too,” Pirin muttered to himself.

  When they reached the gravel shore, they circle around toward the cove. A wooden boardwalk paved a steady route along the coast, before disappearing around the edge of the cove.

  They followed the curve. Pirin led, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword. The wall of the cove peeled away, revealing the village beyond. It tucked into the cove, sheltering from the wind. Hovels clung to the walls, and houses stood on stilts above a pool at the center of the cove. It was low tide, but the scrapped skeleton of an old whaling ship lay at the center of the pool. The villagers had stripped it clean of boards for their houses, leaving only a skeleton left.

  Torches blazed, filling the air with smoke, and oil candles let off a savoury, meat-like smell. Rushlights poked out from buildings’ walls or hung above the walkway.

  Darekshore had no natural defenses, and it had never needed any, but a few Dominion soldiers stood guard on the walkway. They leaned against a stack of barrels, talking lazily amongst themselves. One was a man, the other a seafolk with bright red hair and fleshy gills. Both conscripts, or enlistees from faraway lands.

  The man yawned, then pushed up and turned to face them. Pirin quickly pulled up his hood so they wouldn’t see his hair.

  “Good afternoon,” the man said. “What brings you to Darekshore? I don’t imagine you’ll have many buyers for that gnatsnapper. The folks who used to fly them around here, those boys, they’ve long since grown up and moved off.”

  Pirin chuckled. “Sorry, sir, we’re just visiting. We came to see the local healer, Mr. Regos. Is he here?”

  The guard raised his eyebrows, then said, “Apologies. The old man passed on a season-cycle ago…or something like that. They say he turned out to be a traitor to the Dominion.”

  “And that apprentice of his disappeared soon after, too,” the seafolk soldier added.

  “If you don’t mind,” Pirin said, “would you let me visit his house?”