"If there's a way I can leave this place...I will do it."

  The wind is roaring against the sails of the ship, yet instead of waves, it is clouds beneath them.

  The skyship is in the middle of a storm, the rain pelting against the wooden deck. The people are scrambling to gain a hold of their footing, the storm is raging like a hurricane, a hurricane of the sky.

  Within the cabin of the skyship, the group of adventurers are busy planning for the next course of action.

  The cabin creaked with every gust of wind, wooden beams straining against the wrath of the storm. Lanterns swayed, casting elongated shadows that danced across the walls, their flickering light barely keeping the darkness at bay. The room was filled with the smell of damp wood and iron, the metallic tang of weapons sharpened and ready.

  Minka stood hunched over a broad wooden table, a large map of the Cloudscar Isles spread out before her. The parchment was old, the ink smudged in places from years of use. Trails were marked in red, indicating dangerous winds and potential sky beast territories. She traced a line with her finger, brow furrowed with concentration.

  Viola, leaning against a post, lazily spun a dagger between her fingers. Her armor, a patchwork of leather and monster scales, glinted in the dim light. “If you steer us into another storm, I’m throwing you overboard,” she said, her voice a blend of irritation and jest.

  Leanna sat cross-legged on a crate, methodically tying new fletching to a set of arrows. Her quiver, crafted from the hide of a Stormdrake, lay at her side. “We need to make landfall soon. The wyvern meat we have left won’t last another day, not with the crew eyeing it like they haven’t eaten in weeks.”

  Minka’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know. But if we cut through the Galechurn, we can shave days off our journey. The Eldertree Village will have supplies, and we might finally get a lead on the beast.” Her eyes glinted with a mix of desperation and resolve. “We can’t let it keep destroying the settlements.”

  The storm rumbled outside, as if agreeing with her. The entire ship shuddered, and a few loose trinkets clattered to the floor. Viola’s dagger paused mid-spin. “And what if Galechurn tears this ship apart? What then? You think we can swim through a sea of clouds?”

  Leanna glanced up, her sharp blue eyes narrowed. “It’s a risk. But it might be the only choice we have.” She secured the arrow to her quiver and stood, her silhouette framed by the lightning flashing through the porthole. “The beast won’t wait for us. We’ve seen what it can do.”

  Viola rolled her eyes, but the seriousness in her gaze betrayed her worry. “Fine. But if we die, I’m haunting you both.”

  Minka allowed herself a small, weary smile. “Noted.”

  A loud crash came from above deck, followed by a flurry of hurried footsteps and shouts. The trio exchanged a look—no more words needed. Weapons in hand, they moved as one toward the exit, the map forgotten as it fluttered off the table.

  Above deck, the world was chaos. Rain lashed against their faces, and the wind threatened to hurl them overboard. The sky was a dark, swirling mass, illuminated only by jagged bolts of lightning that tore through the clouds. The ship's crew struggled with the sails, their voices drowned by the storm.

  But above the howl of the wind, a different sound pierced through. A roar—deep and resonant, vibrating through the wood beneath their feet.

  The beast had found them.

  A shadow moved within the clouds, massive wings unfurling as lightning framed its silhouette. It was a Thunderjaw, a leviathan of the storm, its scales rippling with arcs of electricity. Its eyes glowed a cold, unfeeling white as it circled the ship, talons ready to tear through wood and flesh alike.

  Minka didn’t hesitate. She barked orders to the crew, her voice sharp and commanding. “Ballistae ready! Aim for the wings—ground it if you can!”

  Viola darted to the side, her blades flashing as she moved to a ballista, yelling at the nearest sailor to help reload. Leanna knocked an arrow, its tip glowing with runic light. She pulled the bowstring taut, waiting for the right moment.

  The Thunderjaw swooped lower, the force of its wings sending a spray of rain into their faces. It opened its maw, a pulse of energy gathering at its throat. Minka’s eyes widened. “Brace—!”

  A bolt of lightning shot from the creature’s mouth, striking the deck and sending shards of wood into the air. The blast knocked Minka back, the world spinning as she hit the wet planks hard. Her ears rang, the shouts around her muffled and distant.

  Viola’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and relentless. “Get up, Minka! We need you!”

  Minka’s vision cleared, the storm rushing back into focus. She pushed herself to her feet, her sword still clutched tightly in her hand. Her knuckles were white, but she found her balance. She found her purpose.

  “Leanna!” she shouted, “Aim for its eyes! Viola, keep the crew on the ballistae—focus fire on the wings!”

  The Thunderjaw swooped again, but this time, the hunters were ready. Arrows flew, bolts launched, and as the beast roared, their defiance rose to meet it. The storm, for a moment, was not their enemy but their ally, the lightning reflecting off their blades like the glow of their shared determination.

  With a sickening sound, an arrow found its mark. The Thunderjaw screeched, rearing back. The sails caught the wind, and the skyship lurched forward, leaving the beast behind in a swirl of storm and shadow.

  "We need to keep the body! That would make us a fortune!" Viola shouted over the roar of the storm.

  Minka’s eyes flickered to the beast, its form shrinking in the distance. “We can’t risk taking on that weight. The storm could return.”

  "If we don't pay out the debt, we are done for! We are gonna get kicked out from our guild and get hunted down!" Viola shouted.

  Minka's jaw clenched. "And if we die here, we're done for too."

  "But if we hunt the beast down, we can prove ourselves to the guild!" Leanna's voice was a sharp counterpoint.

  Minka's grip on her sword tightened. "It's not worth the risk."

  The ship groaned and pitched, throwing them off balance. The crew scrambled to regain control, the sails fighting against the wind. Minka quietly mutters prayers: "Father, mother... Please watch over us."

  The ship shuddered under the weight of the storm, its timbers groaning like a wounded beast. Minka wiped the rain from her face, her knuckles white as she clung to the ship’s railing. The Thunderjaw’s silhouette still loomed in the distance, a dark shape cutting through the clouds, its glowing eyes like twin stars in the storm.

  Leanna adjusted her stance, her bowstring still taut, the runic arrow glowing softly in the gloom. “We need to make a choice, Minka. Either we run or we fight.”

  Viola, braced against the ballista, her blades gleaming with the rain, shot Minka a look. “She’s right. We can’t outrun it forever. We either go down fighting or die with our backs turned.”

  Minka took a deep breath, the cold air biting at her lungs. The ship was barely holding together, but if they didn’t act now, they’d be nothing more than wreckage scattered across the sky. “Fine,” she said, her voice cutting through the storm. “We bring it down—fast. Aim for the wings and keep it grounded.”

  A ragged cheer went up among the crew, the desperate kind of hope that only came when there was no other choice. Minka took her place at the bow of the ship, her sword gleaming with the lightning, a thin line of light against the dark.

  “Leanna, get ready to fire!” Minka called out. “Viola, keep those ballistae loaded. We only get one shot at this.”

  The Thunderjaw let out a roar, its massive wings beating against the storm, sending gusts of wind that rocked the ship. It descended in a wide arc, its maw opening to unleash another bolt of lightning.

  “Now!” Minka shouted.

  Leanna loosed her arrow, the runic light trailing behind it like a comet. The bolt struck true, embedding itself in the creature’s wing joint. The Thunderjaw screamed, its flight faltering as the wing buckled under its own weight.

  Viola and the crew unleashed a volley of ballista bolts, the heavy iron-tipped spears punching through the thin membrane of the beast’s wings. The skyship pitched forward as the crew pulled the ropes, trying to reel the beast closer.

  Minka could see it now, the raw fury in its eyes, the storm mirrored in the swirling white of its gaze. She tightened her grip on her sword, the leather of the hilt digging into her palm. “Hold steady!” she yelled. “We’re almost there!”

  The ship veered dangerously close to the creature, the wind howling as if in protest. Minka braced herself, her muscles coiled, ready to strike. The Thunderjaw lashed out, its talons raking across the deck, sending splinters and screams into the air.

  Minka leapt forward, her blade cutting through the rain, but the ship shuddered violently, throwing her to the deck. The world spun, the sky and the wood and the rain all a blur as the ship careened off course.

  “Steady!” Viola’s voice cut through the chaos. “We’re losing control!”

  Leanna scrambled to Minka’s side, her hands gripping the captain’s arm. “We need to cut the lines! It’s dragging us down!”

  Minka looked up, her vision blurred, and saw the truth of it. The Thunderjaw’s weight was too much. Its talons were embedded in the ship’s hull, the ropes tangled around its body. The ship wasn’t just losing altitude—it was being pulled down.

  “Cut the lines!” she screamed. “Everyone, cut the lines!”

  The crew moved, blades flashing, ropes snapping under the strain. But it was too late. The ship pitched forward, the bow diving into the clouds as the wind tore the sails to shreds.

  The impact was a thunderclap, wood shattering as the skyship crashed through the cloud cover. The world became a whirl of rain and metal and the sickening lurch of freefall.

  Minka reached for something—anything—to hold on to, but the ship bucked wildly. She saw Viola tumbling, her blades lost to the wind, and Leanna gripping a broken mast, her bow still clutched in her hand.

  Then the world went dark.

  When the wind died down, there was only silence. The ship lay crumpled on a rocky cliffside, its once proud hull splintered and torn. The rain still fell, but the storm had moved on, leaving only the broken remains of wood and iron and the quiet moans of the survivors.

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  Minka opened her eyes to the gray sky, her body aching, every breath a struggle. She tasted blood, felt the cold stone beneath her. She forced herself to sit up, her vision swimming, and saw the wreckage of the ship scattered across the cliffside.

  “Leanna?” she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Viola?”

  A shadow moved among the wreckage, and Minka felt a surge of hope. But as the figure came closer, she saw the familiar white eyes, the cold stare.

  The Thunderjaw had survived the fall.

  Minka gritted her teeth, her hand finding the hilt of her broken sword. She pushed herself to her feet, the weight of the weapon dragging her down, but she stood. She stood because there was no other choice. Minka stood amidst the wreckage of the skyship, her armor battered and her red hair clinging to her face, damp with rain and sweat. The cut on her lip had stopped bleeding, but the dried blood against her skin was a stark reminder of how close they had come to death. The green of her eyes was sharp, almost luminescent against the storm’s dying light, and despite the exhaustion that weighed on her, there was still a fire in her gaze.

  She tightened her grip on the hilt of her broken sword, the jagged metal reflecting the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Around her, the ship lay in pieces, splintered wood and twisted metal scattered across the rocky cliffside. Minka had not seen any other survivors, including her companions.

  The Thunderjaw, the massive storm beast, had also survived. Its body was coiled on a ledge below, its breath ragged, the rise and fall of its chest unsettling for something so large. Its eyes, still glowing faintly, watched Minka with a mixture of hatred and pain.

  Minka’s breath caught in her throat as she realized the enormity of the situation. She was alone, unarmed, facing down a creature that had brought their ship down from the sky. But she was a fighter, and she would not go down without one last stand.

  Minka steadied her breathing, each inhale a raw, jagged pull of air. Her hand held tight around the hilt of her broken sword, the jagged edge a cruel reminder of how little remained between her and the beast. The Thunderjaw's massive form shifted, its claws digging into the stone, sending shivers through the earth beneath her feet.

  Its breath came in harsh, rattling gasps, steam curling from its nostrils. Despite the injuries it bore—arrows protruding from its scales, and one wing hanging uselessly—it still exuded a raw, primal strength. Lightning arced between the spines along its back, a remnant of the storm it commanded. Its eyes, cold and alien, fixed on Minka, a predator's gaze that promised nothing but violence.

  She took a step forward, her boots scraping against the stone. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, each dropping a cold needle against her skin. She could hear her heartbeat, a relentless drum in her ears, echoing the rhythm of the beast’s growl.

  “You took my ship,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. “My crew. My friends.” Each word came out through clenched teeth, the syllables sharpened by grief and fury. “You’re not taking anything else.”

  The Thunderjaw responded with a hiss, its maw parting to reveal rows of serrated teeth. The air between them crackled, and Minka saw the charge building along its throat. She had seen what that lightning breath could do—how it had torn the deck of her ship to splinters, how it had turned seasoned warriors to ash.

  When the beast lunged, it was like a storm given flesh. Claws as long as swords scraped over stone, and its wings flared, the tattered membranes catching the wind. Minka moved on instinct, diving to the side as a bolt of lightning carved a molten scar across the ground where she had stood.

  Her shoulder hit the rock, pain flaring up her arm, but she pushed through it, rolling to her feet. The Thunderjaw was already turning, its massive tail sweeping around with bone-shattering force. Minka braced herself, using the remains of her sword to catch the blow. The impact rattled her bones, her feet slipping, but she held firm.

  “Come on,” she snarled, the rain streaking her face, mixing with the blood on her lip. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  The beast obliged. It charged, jaws snapping, its roar a thunderclap. Minka ducked low, the rush of air from its bite whipping her hair back. She struck out, the jagged sword scraping along its scaled hide. Sparks flew, but the blade barely bit into the armored flesh.

  The Thunderjaw reared back, its eyes narrowing. Minka saw the glow in its throat, felt the hair on her arms rise as the static built up. She was too close—too close to dodge another blast.

  So, instead, she ran toward it.

  Her legs burned, each step a battle against the ache in her muscles, but she pushed forward. The creature hesitated, its instinct at war with the unexpected movement. Minka’s feet found purchase on the broken stone, and she leapt, using the curve of its wing as a platform.

  She landed on its back, the heat of its body radiating through her armor. The scales beneath her were slick, charged with the storm’s residue. The Thunderjaw bucked, trying to dislodge her, its wings thrashing against the cliffside. She slid, her grip faltering, but she managed to jam her sword into the joint of its wing. The beast howled, the sound a raw, wounded thing.

  Minka climbed higher, each movement a struggle against the sheer force of the creature’s thrashing. She reached its neck, the scales there thinner, the pulsing glow of its throat just beneath the surface. She didn’t hesitate. She raised her broken sword and drove it down, the blade piercing through skin and muscle.

  The Thunderjaw spasmed, its body arching, and the world tilted. Minka held on, her fingers white with strain, as the beast crashed against the rocks. She felt the ground shudder, and heard the crunch of bone and stone. The blade in its neck acted like a lightning rod, and when the creature unleashed its breath, the energy had nowhere to go but inward.

  A blast of light. The smell of burning ozone. Minka felt the shockwave hit her, and felt the searing heat wash over her. She was thrown clear, her body tumbling through the rain, and then—darkness.

  She opened her eyes to a world that had stopped moving. The rain had ceased, the sky a dull gray canvas. The Thunderjaw lay still, its massive form slumped against the cliff, smoke curling from the wound in its neck. The jagged remains of her sword jutted from its scales, a monument to her defiance.

  Minka’s body protested as she moved, every muscle screaming, but she crawled forward, dragging herself across the stone. She reached the beast’s head, her breath a ragged rasp. Its white eyes had dimmed, the storm within them finally quelled.

  She collapsed against its side, the warmth of its body a strange comfort against the cold. Her vision blurred, the world fading in and out. She thought of her crew—of Leanna’s sharp laughter, of Viola’s endless sarcasm. She thought of her father, of the stories he told of heroes who faced monsters and won.

  “I did it,” she murmured, the words carried away by the wind. “I really did it.”

  And as the clouds parted, and the first rays of sunlight touched the world, Minka Terra closed her eyes, the storm within her finally at peace. But after peace is emptiness. Her friends are gone, her ship is destroyed, and she has no idea where she is or how to get home. With the world in chaos, there's no place that's safe for her.

  Minka lay against the cooling corpse of the Thunderjaw, her fingers digging into its rough, still-warm scales. The world felt distant, muffled, as if she had slipped beneath the surface of a dark sea. She could barely feel the pain in her limbs, the ache in her chest, or the sting of the cut on her lip. All of it had blended into a dull throb, a reminder that she was still alive, even when everything else had been stripped away.

  Her whisper hung in the air, a fragile thread against the stillness. “If there’s a world where none of this would happen... I wish to be there instead.”

  The air around her seemed to grow colder, the soft breeze twisting into an unsettling chill. Minka’s breath plumed white, the frost forming in the crevices of the stones around her. She lifted her head, every movement a struggle, and saw the world around her begin to distort.

  At first, it was like ripples on water, the edges of reality bending and warping. The sky darkened, the gray clouds above turning to an inky black. The wind died, replaced by an oppressive stillness, and then, from that stillness, a sound—like the soft scraping of claws against stone, a whisper that crawled into her bones.

  A tear formed in the fabric of reality, a jagged wound in the air just a few paces away. The edges of the portal shimmered with an unnatural hue, colors that defied description, a sickly iridescence that made Minka’s skin crawl. From within the portal, shadows seeped out, tendrils that twisted and coiled, feeling their way into the world.

  And then, a figure stepped through. The woman who stepped through had the same red hair, the same fair skin, even the same build as Minka. Her armor was a darkened version of Minka's own, its metal etched with runes that seemed to drink in the light. But where Minka’s eyes were a bright, determined green, the stranger’s were a sharp, piercing yellow—like a wolf's gaze, calculating and cold.

  The Ravager.

  The Ravager regarded Minka with a detached curiosity, her head tilting slightly as if examining a wounded animal. Her yellow eyes swept over the wreckage, the corpse of the Thunderjaw, and finally, the girl crumpled against its carcass.

  "So," the Ravager spoke, her voice layered with echoes, as if a chorus of shadows murmured beneath her words. "This is where you ended up. A broken world, a broken ship... a broken you."

  Minka forced herself to sit up, every muscle protesting. She felt the weight of the Ravager’s gaze, sharp and unyielding. "Who... are you?" Her voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.

  The Ravager’s lips curled into a faint smirk. "I am you. Or rather, what you could become. What you might have been if the world had pushed a little harder. If you had pushed back."

  Minka’s green eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance surfacing through the exhaustion. “I don’t understand.”

  The Ravager sighed, as if explaining a simple truth to a stubborn child. "There are many worlds, Minka. Somewhere you never left home. Somewhere you became a hero. And others..." She trailed off, her yellow eyes darkening. "Others where the Archivist took everything, and you learned what it truly meant to fight with nothing left to lose."

  "Who's the Archivist?"

  "He's the man that took everything from me." The Ravager’s eyes flashed, her smirk fading into a thin, cold line. She points at the thunderclaw. "Like that beast, but worse."

  The Ravager’s yellow eyes never left Minka, their intensity piercing through the fog of exhaustion. Her finger remained pointed at the Thunderjaw’s smoldering corpse, its massive form twisted and broken against the jagged stones.

  “The Archivist is no mere beast,” the Ravager continued, her voice a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate in Minka’s bones. “He is a force. A being who bends reality to his will, who erases entire worlds and reshapes them as he pleases. He doesn’t just kill—he consumes. He makes sure nothing remains.”

  Minka’s fingers dug into the dirt, the cold grit grounding her. “You say he took everything from you... what does that mean?”

  The Ravager’s expression hardened, a shadow passing over her face. “It means he took my world, my family, my friends. He stripped me of everything I ever cared about until there was nothing left but ash and echoes.” Her voice remained steady, but there was a tremor beneath the surface, a fissure in the cold, unyielding exterior.

  Minka’s mind raced, the weight of her own losses pressing down on her. Her ship, her crew, the lives that had been shattered because of the Thunderjaw. She had thought the beast was the end of her world, but the Ravager’s words painted a picture of something far darker.

  “Why me?” Minka asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why not find someone stronger? Someone who hasn’t already failed?”

  The Ravager’s lips curled into a small, almost pitying smile. “Because strength doesn’t come from victory. It comes from loss. From standing up after everything has been taken from you.” She extended a hand, her gauntlet-clad fingers steady and unwavering. “You wished for another world, Minka. I can’t give you peace, but I can give you purpose. Fight with me, and you’ll have the chance to make sure what happened to your world doesn’t happen to another.”

  Minka’s green eyes met the Ravager’s yellow gaze, and she saw her own reflection in those sharp, piercing eyes—a reflection twisted by pain but not broken. Not yet.

  “What do you need me to do?” she asked, the weight of the question settling in the air between them.

  The Ravager’s smirk widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “First, you stand. Then, you fight. And if you’re strong enough, if you’re willing, you’ll help me destroy the Archivist and every world he’s tainted.”

  She leaned closer, her presence a mix of shadow and steel. “There are others. Other versions of us, lost in their own dying worlds. Some have already joined me. A legion of ourselves, united in purpose. Each one carrying the weight of their own failures, each one burning with the need to make it right.”

  Minka hesitated, the echoes of her own doubts rising like ghosts. “What if I’m not enough? What if I fail again?”

  The Ravager’s hand remained outstretched, unwavering. “Then you fail. And you get back up. Because that’s what we do, Minka. We fall. We bleed. But we do not break.”

  Minka’s breath shuddered, the cold biting into her skin, but she forced her limbs to move. Her hand reached out, her bloodied fingers brushing against the Ravager’s gauntlet. The metal was cold, unyielding, yet beneath it, Minka felt a pulse—like the beat of a heart.

  As their hands clasped, the portal behind the Ravager widened, shadows swirling like a tempest. The world around them trembled, the sky cracking with streaks of unnatural light. The air thickened, and Minka felt the pull of something immense, a force that threatened to swallow her whole.

  The Ravager pulled her to her feet, her grip unyielding. “Hold on to that wish, Minka. The wish for another world. We’re going to need it.”

  Together, they stepped into the rift, the fabric of reality folding around them. Minka felt a rush of cold, a scream of wind, and then nothing but darkness.

  When the light returned, they stood in a place that defied comprehension—a realm of floating islands, twisted architecture, and skies that bled into colors beyond human sight. Figures moved in the distance, shadows and shapes, each one bearing a familiar silhouette. Versions of her, from worlds that had burned and broken, each one carrying the same look in their eyes: a mix of loss and unyielding resolve.

  The Ravager released Minka’s hand and stepped forward, her voice rising over the strange, humming air. “Welcome to the Nexus. The last refuge of the lost and the first step in the Archivist’s undoing. Here, you become more than just another broken version of Minka Terra.”

  Minka’s green eyes widened as the other versions of her turned to look, their faces mirrors of her own—some scarred, some serene, all burdened by the weight of their worlds.

  “You become part of the Legion,” the Ravager said, her yellow eyes alight with purpose. “And together, we will rewrite fate.”