Locke
This is ridiculous.
I know that. I’m aware.
It changes nothing.
I’m in a chair bolted to a floor that’s floating.
Breathe.
I’m fine.
Fuck.
I’m not fine. I am one loose bolt away from becoming a cautionary tale.
Don’t think about it.
I stare straight ahead. The wall across from me is metal riveted with brass. I focus on the rivets. Count them. Recount them. My hands are gripping the armrests hard enough that my knuckles have gone white.
Unclench.
No.
Rane’s voice carries from somewhere below. He’s following Kree around asking questions about everything. Kree’s answering while moving too fast and talking over himself. The sound of it grates on me but at least it’s something to focus on that isn’t the fact that we are IN THE AIR.
Breathe.
I breathe. Controlled. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Like I’m doing something normal. Like I’m fine.
I’m not fine but I refuse to give it the satisfaction of saying so.
Vaelor and Trey are at one of the windows. Of course they are. Both of them looking at the view like it’s beautiful. Like we’re not held up by hope and brass.
Kyron’s flying alongside in owl form. Apparently some people were built for this nightmare.
Beckett’s somewhere quiet.
No one has looked at me. Good. Nobody needs to look at me.
Nova is in a cell.
That’s the only reason I’m here. The only reason I got on this ship. The only reason I’m not losing my fucking mind right now.
Actually I am losing my mind. I’m just doing it quietly.
If Rane says one word about how amazing this is I’ll throw him off.
The ship banks slightly. My stomach drops. I lock my jaw and don’t move and count the rivets again.
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.
This is not fine. How does everyone else think it is?
We’re not dying… That’s it.
If we die because of brass runes and magical calibration I’m killing Kree first.
Then I hear it.
“That’s not supposed to do that.”
Kree’s voice. I look and he’s no longer grinning.
My chest goes cold.
That is definitely not fine.
The ship gives a wrong vibration. Just for a second. Like something shifted that shouldn’t have.
My hands grip harder. I can’t stop them. My pulse is in my throat and I’m counting breaths now instead of rivets and my vision is narrowing and I’m not panicking I’m NOT—
The ship dips.
Just a dip. A few feet maybe. A metal groan. A second of wrong.
To anyone else it’s probably nothing.
BUT THE FUCKING FLOOR JUST DISAPPEARED.
If we survive this, Kree dies second.
Someone sits down beside me.
I don’t look. Don’t move. Just keep staring at the wall.
“Turbulence,” Beckett says flatly. I can tell he’s not looking at me either.
Good. Glad there’s a word for dying badly.
I don’t answer.
He doesn’t push. And thank god because I can’t right now.
Then he reaches into his bag and pulls something out. Hands it to me without looking.
It’s a strap. Reinforced. The kind you use for cargo.
“Anchor point’s there,” he says. Nods at the wall. Then goes back to whatever he was doing on his phone like nothing happened.
I take it.
Loop it through the anchor. Pull it tight. Grip it with both hands instead of the armrests.
It helps.
Not much. But it’s something.
The ship levels out. The vibration fades. Kree’s voice picks back up — still talking, still moving, apparently we’re not dying.
Yet.
I keep gripping the strap.
Time passes. I don’t know how much. I’m counting breaths and trying not to think about how far we are from the ground.
I hear footsteps on the ladder.
Declan appears. He doesn’t look at me as he walks past. Then stops. Turns back.
He doesn’t say anything for a second. Just looks at the strap I’m holding. At my hands. At my face.
Then he reaches into his belt and pulls out another strap. Heavier gauge. Tosses it to me.
“Magic interference,” Declan says to no one in particular.
Beckett looks up from his phone. “From what?”
“Border zones sometimes—” Declan stops. His expression shifts. “No. This pattern is deliberate. Targeted.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning this realm doesn’t use rune magic.” Declan’s voice goes flat. “But someone here knows how to disrupt it.”
Beckett goes still. “Nightmare works with Clockwork.”
“Or stole the tech.” Declan looks at the wall. “Either way, we’re dropping altitude in ten. Can’t hold this high or the whole grid fails.”
“How low?”
“Tree level. Maybe under.”
Beckett nods once. Goes back to his tablet.
Declan leaves.
I grip both straps tighter.
Lower.
Well, at least there’s less distance to fall when we crash.