Pain was a familiar friend, but this was a new kind of acquaintance.
Zain sat on a crate in the ship's small infirmary, his shirt off. His left shoulder—where the Inquisitor's mace had clipped him—was a canvas of angry purple and black bruises. It throbbed in time with the engine's hum.
But the real pain wasn't the bruise. It was the cold.
Ever since he had used Void Step twice in rapid succession, a deep, shivering chill had settled into his bones. No amount of blankets helped. It felt like his blood had been replaced with ice water.
"Spatial tearing exacts a toll," Nox lectured, his voice sounding irritatingly comfortable inside Zain's freezing head. "You forced your physical matter through a dimension that rejects life. The cold is merely your soul remembering the Void. It will pass."
"Easy for you to say," Zain muttered, shivering. "You don't have bones."
The infirmary door slid open. Vera walked in, carrying a roll of bandages and a small jar of pungent green salve.
She stopped, looking at his bruised shoulder. She didn't look sympathetic; she looked critical.
"Ugly," she commented.
"Thanks," Zain grunted.
"Not the bruise," she said, walking over and unscrewing the jar. "Your stance. I saw you on the dock. You move like a drunk scarecrow."
She scooped a glob of the green goop and slapped it onto his shoulder. It stung like fire, then instantly numbed the pain.
"I've never been in a fight before," Zain defended himself, wincing. "I grew up running away."
"Well, you can't run anymore," Vera said, wrapping the bandage tight—too tight. "Silas is right. You're a target now. That Inquisitor, Kaelen? He won't stop. He'll track your mana signature."
She finished the knot and tossed him a clean shirt. It was a crew shirt—grey, thick fabric, with the Junker emblem (a cog and a skull) stitched on the collar.
"Get dressed," Vera ordered. "Captain wants us on the deck. Training starts now."
The wind on the deck was biting, but at least the sun was shining. The Rusty Bucket was cruising at a high altitude, hiding in the cloud layer to avoid patrols.
Boz and Jinx were sitting on the cargo hatch, watching with amusement. Silas was on the bridge, observing.
Vera stood across from Zain, holding two wooden practice daggers. She tossed one to him.
Zain caught it clumsily. It felt light. Useless against a sword or a monster.
"Lesson one," Vera said, settling into a low crouch. Her balance was perfect, shifting with the sway of the ship. "Your power is a Finisher. It is not an Opener."
"What does that mean?" Zain asked, mimicking her stance awkwardly.
"It means if you try to grab someone's face to rot them, they will cut your arm off before you touch them," Vera said. "And if you teleport behind them without a plan, they will just turn around and stab you. Like I'm about to do."
"Wait, I'm not read—"
Vera lunged.
She didn't use magic. She just used speed. She stepped inside his guard, slapped his dagger away with her bare hand, and tapped the wooden blade against his throat.
"Dead," she said.
Zain blinked. "That was too fast."
"No, you were too slow," Vera stepped back. "Again."
For the next hour, Zain got beaten. Badly.
He was tapped on the throat, the ribs, the kidneys, and the legs. Every time he tried to use his "Touch of Ruin," Vera anticipated it. She stayed out of his reach, using her longer reach to poke him, frustrating him.
"Stop relying on the Seal!" Vera shouted, sweeping his legs and sending him crashing to the metal deck. "The Seal is a gun. You are the soldier. If the soldier is an idiot, the gun is useless!"
Zain groaned, lying on his back. He was sweaty, bruised, and angry.
"She mocks us," Nox hissed. "Use the Step. Surprise her."
Zain glared at Vera. She was smirking.
"Come on, garbage eater," she teased. "Show me that magic trick."
Zain scrambled up. This time, he didn't wait. He focused on the shadow cast by the main mast, right behind Vera.
Void Step.
The cold rushed through him. The world inverted. POP.
He appeared behind her, swinging his wooden dagger.
But Vera wasn't there.
As soon as he materialized, he felt a foot hook around his ankle. Vera had predicted the jump. She pivoted, used his own momentum against him, and slammed him face-first into the deck.
She sat on his back, pressing the wooden knife against his neck.
"Lesson two," she whispered in his ear. "Shadows have tells. Before you jumped, your eyes flicked to the spot you wanted. You telegraphed it."
She got off him and offered a hand.
Zain took it, defeated. "I'm terrible at this."
"You are," Vera agreed, pulling him up. "But you have instincts. You didn't hesitate to jump. Most people hesitate. We can fix the skill. We can't fix cowardice."
She tossed him a water skin.
"Rest for ten minutes. Then we go again. This time, don't look where you're going."
While Zain gasped for air, Captain Silas walked down from the bridge. He looked at the bruised boy and nodded approvingly.
"He takes a beating well," Silas grunted to Vera.
"He's stubborn," Vera replied. "That helps."
Silas turned to the crew. "Listen up! We've got a course change."
He unrolled a large, stained map on a crate.
"Port Aero is burned. The trade routes are crawling with Temple patrols. We can't go to any civilized port to resupply."
"So where do we go, Cap?" Boz asked. "Fuel is at 60%. Food is good, but water will run out in a week."
Silas pointed a metal finger at a cluster of jagged islands surrounded by storm symbols on the map.
"We're going to The Shattered Isles."
The crew went silent. Even Boz looked uneasy.
"The Shattered Isles?" Jinx squeaked. "Cap, gravity doesn't work right there! Ships fall out of the sky! And the pirates..."
"Exactly," Silas grinned, his red eye gleaming. "The Temple ships are too heavy and too rigid to navigate the gravity wells. They won't follow us in there."
"And the pirates?" Vera asked, crossing her arms.
"We have fifty Refined Mana Cores," Silas said. "In the Shattered Isles, that buys us a king's welcome. We're going to Black-Harbor. It's the only place we can sell this loot without questions... and maybe find out what that black shard inside the boy is."
Zain looked up. "You know about the shard?"
"I know that Rictus dealt in dangerous things," Silas said. "And I know that if the Temple wants it that bad, it's probably related to the Old Abyss. Black-Harbor has scholars who study forbidden history. If you want to know what's living in your arm, that's the place."
Zain touched his arm. Nox remained silent, but Zain could feel a wave of anticipation from the entity.
"Black-Harbor..." Nox finally whispered. "Yes. I recall the name. A nest of vipers. Perfect."
"Set course!" Silas barked. "Torque, push the engines! We hit the Gravity Belt by sundown!"
That night, Zain couldn't sleep. The hammock swayed gently, but his mind was racing.
He pulled the black shard (now liquid inside him) and the memory of the Void Step through his mind, trying to understand it.
Vera climbed down from the upper bunk. She dropped lightly onto the floor.
"Can't sleep?" she asked.
"Thinking about the Inquisitor," Zain admitted. "He was blind, but he saw everything."
"Mana Sense," Vera said, sitting on a crate opposite him. "High-level users don't need eyes. They feel the shape of the magic around them. To him, you're just a big, black hole of energy."
She hesitated, then pulled a small whetstone from her pocket and began sharpening her dagger.
"Why did you really come back?" Vera asked quietly. "On the dock. You could have jumped to the ship alone. You came back for me."
Zain shrugged, wincing as his bruise flared. "You saved me from the guards earlier. Just returning the favor."
Vera stopped sharpening. She looked at him in the dim light of the sleeping quarters. For the first time, her guard was down. She looked young—just a teenager, like him, forced to grow up too fast.
"In the Junkers," she said softly, "nobody returns favors. You survive, or you don't. That's the rule."
She stood up and climbed back into her bunk.
"Don't get used to saving people, Zain. In the Shattered Isles, heroes tend to have short lifespans."
"I'm not a hero," Zain whispered to the darkness. "I'm just a guy with a monster in his arm."
"And don't you forget it," Nox murmured as Zain finally drifted off to sleep.
Outside the porthole, the blue sky began to darken, turning a bruised purple. The gravity of the Shattered Isles was reaching out to grab them.