The jagged cliffs of Spectra loomed higher the closer they sailed, until they blocked half the sky. Dark stone walls had been carved directly into the rock face, blending with the cliffs so perfectly that if you didn't know they were there, you'd think the land was uninhabited.
Kiro leaned on the rail, squinting. "I don't see any way in."
Ara smirked without looking up from the tiller. "Good. That means the defenses are working."
A narrow inlet appeared between two cliff faces, the water there swirling with dangerous currents. The tide crashed against hidden reefs, and Kiro spotted jagged shapes just beneath the surface—steel spikes driven into the seabed.
"Those aren't natural," he said.
Lune gave him a sidelong glance. "Spectra doesn't do 'natural.' Everything's a weapon here."
As they approached, Kiro noticed movement on the cliff above. Crossbows—no, repeating crossbows—lined the high battlements, each manned by a soldier in blackened armor.
A deep voice boomed down, amplified by some kind of resonance device.
"Identify yourselves!"
Ara cupped her hands around her mouth. "Fishing crew from the southern reef! Storm wrecked our nets, seeking trade for supplies!"
Kiro leaned closer. "That's… true?"
Ara's lips barely moved. "Half true. The dangerous half isn't."
The soldier's visor tilted, as if scanning them. Kiro felt something—a faint mental pressure brushing against his mind. He froze, unsure whether to resist.
Lune's whisper was sharp. "Don't push back. They'll know."
After a tense pause, the voice called again. "Dock at Pier Seven. Any weapons will be surrendered for inspection. Any falsehood will result in execution."
"Friendly people," Kiro muttered.
"You have no idea," Ara said grimly.
The inlet narrowed further, walls rising so high they turned the daylight into shadow. Water echoed strangely here, and Kiro noticed grooves cut into the stone above—murder holes.
"They could kill us ten different ways before we got fifty feet," he murmured.
"That's Spectra hospitality," Lune said.
They emerged into a hidden harbor, a wide circular pool surrounded by multi-tiered docks carved into the cliff walls. Ships of all shapes were moored here, most dark-hulled and sleek—built for speed and stealth.
Dockworkers moved quickly, heads down, eyes sharp. Armed guards stood at every corner.
A man in crimson-trimmed armor waited for them on Pier Seven. His helmet was off, revealing close-cropped silver hair and eyes like shards of glass.
"Captain Veyric," Ara said smoothly.
His gaze flicked over Ara, Lune, and then settled on Kiro. "This one's new."
Ara's smile didn't waver. "Temporary crew. He's good with knots."
Veyric's eyes narrowed. "Knots. We'll see."
Weapons were surrendered—Ara's harpoon, Lune's short blades, even the small folding knife Kiro had forgotten he was carrying. The guards moved with mechanical precision, their armor so well-oiled it made no sound.
Kiro leaned toward Lune as they were escorted through the dock. "Do they ever… relax?"
Lune's lips quirked. "If they do, you won't live to see it."
They passed through a set of tall gates, and suddenly the cliff opened into a sprawling city built on terraces that climbed the inner walls of a massive volcanic crater.
Buildings here were sharp-edged, all black stone and glass, linked by narrow bridges and steep staircases. Everything felt engineered for control—every street a choke point, every height a sniper's nest.
Kiro felt eyes on him constantly.
Their escort stopped before a low building with no windows. Veyric gestured. "You'll stay here tonight. Your request for supplies will be reviewed in the morning. Don't leave this district without an escort."
Ara inclined her head. "Of course."
Once he was gone, Kiro muttered, "So… are we actually staying here?"
Ara's grin turned wolfish. "Not a chance."
Inside, the room was bare—just three cots, a table, and a jug of water. The moment the door shut, Ara knelt by the table and pulled a small device from under her coat. It unfolded into a thin disc with glowing etchings.
"Signal jammer," she explained. "They'll be listening. Now they'll hear what I want them to."
Kiro blinked. "So we're going to sneak out? Past all those soldiers?"
Ara didn't answer—Lune did. "We came here for a reason, Kiro. And it's not fish nets."
Ara unrolled a thin map of the city. "Spectra is building something—fast. I've got reports of weapons shipments from Langris and Zenis, even Nior. That doesn't happen unless they're planning something big."
Kiro studied the markings. "So what's our job?"
Ara pointed to a mark near the highest terrace. "Their War Council chamber. I need eyes in there. Lune gets me the information, I get it out. You—" she fixed Kiro with a sharp look "—keep the guards distracted if they find us."
Kiro swallowed. "And if I can't?"
Ara smiled thinly. "Then we improvise."
That night, under a sliver of moonlight, they slipped from the building's back door, moving like shadows along the cliffside stairs. The air was cool, carrying the faint tang of the sea even here.
Kiro's pulse thudded in his ears. Every corner felt like a trap waiting to spring.
They reached a narrow bridge between terraces—two guards stood at the far end, speaking in low voices.
Ara signaled. Lune crouched beside Kiro. "Your turn."
Kiro nodded, inhaled, and reached out with his mind.
The guards' threads flared into view—rigid, disciplined, tightly bound. He brushed one, then pushed, weaving in the suggestion that a noise had come from below.
Both guards stiffened, glanced at each other, then moved toward the stairs without a word.
Ara's grin was quick. "Not bad."
They crossed the bridge in silence, slipping deeper into the heart of the city where the War Council chamber awaited—its black glass windows glinting faintly like a predator's eyes in the dark.
Whatever Spectra was planning, Kiro was about to find out.