Pain was Sorrin's first companion.
It greeted him before the weak, grey light of dawn had a chance to creep through their grimy window. Every muscle in his torso screamed in protest as he sat up, a deep, throbbing map of the beating he had taken. The spot where Kael's sword had connected felt like a hot coal pressed against his ribs. He moved slowly, deliberately, dressing in the semi-darkness, each movement stiff and graceless.
Renn was already awake, sitting on the edge of his cot. He was dressed and ready, his wooden cane held upright between his knees. In the quiet of the room, the faint whirring of the city's deep machinery was the only sound.
"How do the bruises feel?" Renn asked, his voice soft.
"Like a new set of organs," Sorrin grunted, pulling his worn shirt over his head with a wince. "Expensive ones."
"A fair price for the lesson," Renn replied. "Pain is a true teacher. It ensures you remember."
Sorrin didn't answer. He strapped his revolver to his hip and slung the practice sword over his back, the familiar weight now a source of both discomfort and a strange, hard-won pride. They gathered their meager belongings—a change of clothes, a few rations, the small pouch of coin from the duel—into their packs. There was little to leave behind.
They descended the narrow stairs for the last time. The common room was empty save for the innkeeper, who was wiping down the bar with a damp rag. She looked up as they approached, her broad face impassive.
Sorrin placed a few coins on the polished wood. "For the room."
She grunted, sweeping the money into her hand without counting it. Her gaze fell on Sorrin's face, noting the new shadows under his eyes and the way he held himself, favoring his left side.
"So, you're off to the slaughter," she said. It wasn't a question.
"We're off to the Academy," Renn corrected smoothly.
The innkeeper let out a short, sharp sound that might have been a laugh. "Same thing. Don't come crawling back here when they break you. I don't run a charity ward."
Despite the harsh words, as they turned to leave, she called out. "Hey, boy." Sorrin looked back. She gestured with her chin toward his practice sword. "The one you beat yesterday? Kael? He's been bragging to anyone who'll listen that he let you win. Says he was teaching you a lesson."
Sorrin frowned. "Why would he do that?"
"Pride's a funny thing," she said, turning back to her work. "Some men would rather be seen as a clever teacher than a clumsy loser. Might be the smartest thing he's ever done." With that, she dismissed them, the rhythmic sweep of her rag resuming its steady cadence.
Outside, the morning air was cool and thick with the promise of industry. The smokestacks that formed Solamen's iron forest were already beginning to exhale plumes of grey and black into the sky. The city was waking, a great metal beast stirring from its slumber. As they stepped onto the street, Renn turned north.
Sorrin fell into step beside him, a flicker of recognition in his stride. "This is the way to the Garrison Docks." A knot of confusion tightened in his gut. "Renn, what are we doing? The public trams to the Sky-Port are the other way."
"We aren't taking a public tram," Renn said simply.
"Then what? Are we walking to Odria?" Sorrin's voice was laced with tired sarcasm, but beneath it was a growing unease. The Garrison Docks were not a place for boys like them.
Renn didn't answer immediately, letting the rhythm of their footsteps and his tapping cane fill the silence. They passed into the wealthier district, where automaton sentinels patrolled the gleaming brass-and-iron streets. The air here was cleaner, humming with the contained power of high-grade machinery.
"We're catching a ride," Renn finally said, as they came into view of the towering lattice of steel that was the military dock.
Sorrin stopped, his eyes fixed on the destination. "On what? The Grand Marrowlight isn't a research ship you can just book passage on."
"This time will be different," Renn said with unshakable certainty, and started walking again.
The memory was sharp in Sorrin's mind: two years ago, a desperate flight from the Underside, hiding in a crate in the cargo hold of this very ship, praying they wouldn't be discovered. The low hum of its Flow-based engines was a sound he'd never forgotten. He followed Renn, his bewilderment warring with a deep-seated curiosity.
At the heavily guarded gate, two wardens in gleaming armor stepped forward. "Halt. This is a restricted area. State your purpose." The voice was a metallic rasp, amplified and impersonal.
"We have an appointment with Captain Arven," Renn stated, his voice calm.
The guard consulted a comm system. A second later, his stance lightened. "Authorization confirmed. Proceed to Docking Bay Seven. Don't stray from the path."
The gate slid open with a hiss of compressed air.
As they walked the marked pathway, Sorrin felt a tremor of that same old fear and awe. Then they rounded a corner, and the questions died in his throat. There, tethered in Docking Bay Seven, was the Grand Marrowlight. He remembered every line of it—the burnished, blue-colored hull that seemed to drink the light; the intricate veins of copper conduits; the series of humming rings along its spine, each glowing with the soft blue light of a Flow-engine. It was a predator of the skies, and it was as breathtaking as it had been two years ago.
A ramp was lowered, and two figures stood at the top: Captain Arven, his grey beard neatly trimmed, his eyes tired and discerning; and beside him, Quartermaster Calda, her arms crossed, her expression a careful blend of suspicion and duty.
"Renn," Captain Arven called down, his calm baritone carrying easily over the hum of the docks. "You made it. And I see you brought your partner along." His eyes met Sorrin's, a flicker of recognition in their depths.
"Captain Arven," Renn replied with a slight, respectful bow. "Thank you for accommodating us. This is Sorrin, from the last mission."
"I remember," the captain said, his gaze lingering on Sorrin's bruised face. "He's grown. Looks like he's found some trouble since you were last aboard."
"We prefer to think of it as experience," Renn said smoothly.
Calda stepped forward, her voice clipped. "Captain, pre-flight checks are complete. We're on schedule." She looked down at them as if they were unexpected variables in a complex equation. "Stow your gear in the aft cargo hold. I've had two cots set up. Stay out of the main labs and off the bridge unless you're invited. Don't touch anything that glows, hums, or looks more valuable than you are. Am I clear?"
"Crystal clear, ma'am," Renn said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
As they walked up the ramp, the ship's engines thrumming through the metal, Captain Arven placed a hand briefly on Renn's shoulder. "It's good to see you."
"The debt is mine, Captain," Renn said quietly.
The exchange hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history. Calda led them to the familiar aft cargo hold. The faint smell of antiseptic and ozone was exactly as Sorrin remembered.
"Lift-off in five," Calda announced, the hatch hissing shut behind her.
Sorrin dropped his pack onto a cot, his mind reeling. "Renn," he began, his voice low and urgent. "A debt? What debt? What did you do for him?"
Renn was silent for a moment. "Some things are not my story to tell, Sorrin."
"It's my story now, too!" Sorrin shot back, his frustration boiling over. "I'm on this ship with you. That captain knows me. We're not just orphans from the Rotbottoms, are we? There's something you've never told me."
Before Renn could answer, a deep horn blast echoed through the ship, followed by a shudder that ran through the hull. The low hum of the engines intensified, rising in pitch until it was a steady, powerful drone. Sorrin felt a peculiar lightness, a sensation of falling upward.
He scrambled to the nearest porthole. The Garrison Dock was falling away. Solamen spread out below, a sprawling map of iron and smoke. This time, the sight wasn't just awe. It was a farewell. The Marrowlight ascended with a speed that stole his breath, banking east. Sorrin watched his entire world shrink into a soot-stained patch on the landscape. And there, dominating the horizon, was the World Tree, its highest branches lost in a shimmering aura of Life Flow, a silent god watching their departure.
The ship broke through the smog into a sky of brilliant, unending blue. He felt a presence beside him and turned to see Renn, his face angled toward the light.
"You never answered my question," Sorrin said, his voice quiet now, the anger replaced by a deep, hollow feeling.
Renn sighed softly. "Two years ago, this ship suffered a containment breach in its primary Flow conduit. A cascade failure. The entire engine system was beginning to destabilize with Curse Flow."
Sorrin stared at him, the implications chilling him. A breach like that wouldn't just destroy the ship; it would poison a significant portion of the city below.
"The crew was evacuating," Renn continued, his voice barely a whisper. "The emergency protocols had failed. Captain Arven was preparing to scuttle the ship. But there was a girl still trapped in the engine room. His daughter."
A cold dread washed over Sorrin as the pieces clicked into place. The frantic alarms, the panic...
"You used your Blessing," Sorrin breathed, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "You went in there."
"The Curse Flow was thick," Renn said, his hands clenching into fists. "It fights Life Flow. Tries to corrupt it. I guided the girl out through the maintenance shafts. I couldn't seal the breach, but I could… soothe it. Temporarily. Long enough for Arven's engineers to regain control."
Sorrin thought of the price Renn paid each time he used his gift—the encroaching madness, the whispers. To use it in a concentrated storm of Curse Flow… the risk was unimaginable.
"He offered me anything," Renn finished. "Wealth, a position, a new life. I told him I wanted nothing. But I said that one day, I might ask for a favor. It turned out to be a ride for two boys who needed to leave the city."
Silence filled the cargo hold. The hum of the engines was a steady drone beneath them. Sorrin looked from Renn's calm, sightless face to the endless sky outside. The blind boy who quoted proverbs had faced down a cataclysm and saved the captain's daughter, and had never spoken a word of it.