I woke up in a daze.

  My vision swam, blurring at the edges. For a moment, I felt like I was drifting—

  Drifting…

  Drifting…

  No, I was rocking.

  The hammock swayed with the Skycutter’s slow roll through the cloud currents, ropes creaking softly above me. The air below deck was warm and stale compared to the night outside. Lantern-light leaked through gaps in the corridor, dim. And somewhere deeper in the hull the aetherengine thumped in a steady, distant rhythm like a heart that didn’t belong to any living thing.

  I rolled off the hammock and hit the floor hard; the boards sending a vibration through my bones.

  My heel clipped something… or someone.

  “Oy!” Finn cried from the floor, where he’d apparently chosen to sleep sitting up against a barrel. He blinked at me blearily and rubbed his head. “Watch where you’re going!” He gave a loud hiccup. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

  I wished I were, too.

  My head pounded, and I ran outside as acid burned in my stomach like dragon fire; right up until it surged, and I spilled the contents onto the deck with a heave. The smell hit immediately: sour liquor and bile.

  A crewmate, skinny, with a mop and bucket in hand, rounded the corner and nearly stepped right into it. He jerked back with a curse. “Hey,” he said. “If you have to puke, do it off the side, will ya’?” Then recognition flashed across his face. “Ah—you’re the new lad. The Changer.” His annoyance softened into something like good humor. “No worries. I’ve mop duty. I’ll clean it up for ya’… this time.”

  I wiped spittle from my mouth with the back of my hand, throat raw and burning. “Why?” I said in barely a whisper.

  The man grinned, showing aged yellow teeth. Some were missing. Others were chipped. The man didn’t take good care of himself; that was for certain.

  “Won me some XP Cores with a well-timed guess,” he said. “Changer had good odds, and luck was on my side.” He slapped the mop to the deck with a wet thud and began scrubbing in quick circles.

  I steadied myself and stepped away, careful not to slip.

  The ship lurched.

  Or maybe I did.

  The corridor tilted, then corrected itself, and then tilted again. The drink from last night still sloshed around inside my skull.

  What in the clouds had been in that “one glass”?

  “Oy, lad,” a familiar voice called.

  Roan sauntered in as if the morning belonged to him; all sunshine and apples. Smoke trailed behind his coat. “I've been looking for you,” he said. “You’re never going to believe what we found—” He stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing as he took in my ragged appearance. I could see myself in the reflection of his dark eyes. I looked horrid. “You alright?”

  “I—” I clapped a hand over my mouth, unable to speak further.

  Captain Roan smacked himself on the forehead. “I said one glass each.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “How many did you have?”

  My mind flickered to the night before, in segmented pieces: Vexa’s laughter, Finn’s conspiratorial grin, and the sound of a lock giving way. Sometime after Roan’s warning, Vexa had convinced Finn to rig the storeroom door. Finn had formed a tiny key out of his own blood, shaping it like a tiny key which he then picked the lock with. He’d pulled the bottle of red free like a trophy. Afterward, he had diluted what was left with plain water and set it back.

  “Umm… one?” I said.

  “Uh huh,” Roan replied, and I was quite certain he knew I was lying. He didn’t press the matter, which somehow felt worse. “Well, you need to watch your liquor, then. Consider today your punishment…” He smiled faintly. “…It’s certainly going to hurt.”

  “Ugh… punishment?” I held my head. “More?”

  A nearby cloud drifted past, and sunlight broke through, blinding me. I hissed and shielded my face.

  “Yeah,” Roan said, unbothered, “today won’t be pleasant. But I’ve got news for you. We found another island. We’re close to Skyreach, so it should be low enough level for you.” He took a slow pull from his pipe and exhaled smoke in a lazy curl. “You’re going to want to gain some experience—”

  I lifted a hand, palm out. “Stop, stop… low level? Experience?”

  Roan’s eyebrows twitched, and his expression sharpened with understanding. It was something like… anger. “Ah, right,” he said, jaw tightening. “That bastard Zyren didn’t explain a damn thing to ya, did he? Well, we’ve got time. Be a lad and find Finn and Vexa and join me. I’ll be waiting with Raela at the foredeck.”

  He turned and sauntered off, smoke trailing behind him.

  I glanced towards the sun and recoiled. It was just too bright to withstand.

  It was going to be a long day.

  ***

  Finn yawned, and Vexa rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm. Both still showed signs of intoxication; Finn’s gaze was too bright and restless, and Vexa’s cheeks flushed red.

  Even so, we made our way up to the foredeck.

  Morning had fully claimed the Skycutter. The air was colder up here, clean with wind and mist. Sails billowed above us, ropes taut and singing softly as they shifted. The cloudsea below churned in slow, pale waves.

  At the prow stood Raela, carved and elegant, her wooden form catching sunlight in sharp highlights. Captain Roan was beside her, pipe in hand as per usual, smoke curling and dissolving into the breeze.

  And Marris.

  The three of us froze.

  Nobody dared breathe.

  Marris locked eyes with Finn. Her expression didn’t change; there was no smile, no surprise, just pure, contained fury. “You,” she growled as she started stomping toward him.

  Finn turned to run.

  He didn’t make it two steps.

  Like a blur, Marris was suddenly at his side. She grabbed him by the coat and lifted him clean off the deck. Finn dangled in the air, boots kicking uselessly. The sunlight caught the tension in Marris’s thick arms, veiny and masculine.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that someone broke into the storeroom?” Marris hissed. “Did you not think I’d find the small drops of blood?”

  Finn opened his mouth, but only a squeak came out.

  Marris looked like she might strangle him right there.

  Roan appeared between them and placed a soft hand on Marris’s arm. To my surprise, Marris’s muscles matched Roan’s nearly one to one. She didn’t even flinch at his touch.

  “They are paying for it, Marris,” Roan said calmly. “And they’ll pay for it some more. Perhaps Finn could help you in the galley—”

  “It was me,” Vexa cut in.

  Her eyes dropped to the deck. “I told him to steal the red. Pushed him to do it.”

  Roan made a small sucking sound with his teeth, weighing decisions. “We’ve talked about this before, Vexa. Perhaps it was a mistake to—”

  “It’s on me,” Vexa said, still staring down. “So let him go. I’ll help in the galley.”

  Marris dropped Finn as if he’d become suddenly weightless. He hit the deck and coughed, rubbing his throat.

  Marris stepped closer to Vexa until she towered over her. “No,” she said flatly. “I don’t want thieves near my stock.” Her gaze was hard enough to cut. “You’ll clean tables until I know you can be trusted again.”

  Then she stalked off, boots thudding toward the stairs, apron swaying in the wind.

  Vexa frowned, jaw tight, but she didn’t argue.

  Roan groaned. “Well, now that the unpleasantness is over, come. We have much to discuss.”

  “Well, that was certainly a show,” Raela purred as we approached. Her wooden claws tapped lightly against the prow, a sound like etching. “And here I was thinking it was getting rather boring around here. It seems all that we needed was some new blood.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re happy, dear,” Roan muttered.

  I coughed, drawing attention back to me. “So what was this about a new island?” I asked.

  Finn’s eyes lit up as if he had been waiting for those exact words for a lifetime. “A new island?” he said. “Oh, please let us go.” He straightened instantly, suddenly sober. “I’ll show the new kid the ropes. I’ll be good, I promise.”

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  Roan lifted a hand. “Relax… and yes. It’ll be just you three.”

  Finn whooped, fists in the air. Vexa’s mouth curved into a small, reluctant smile. Her sour mood was unable to smother it entirely.

  I didn’t understand either of them. Why would anyone want to go back down there?

  “First things first,” Roan said, “we need to explain how things work to Torren here.”

  Finn waved him away. “Don’t worry about it; we can teach him on the way. Now let’s go to the skiff—”

  “Shut up and listen,” Roan cut in.

  Finn snapped his mouth shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

  Roan turned to me. “Torren. I know this must all be confusing, but bear with me. You know about Echo Cores and Classes, to a degree.” He watched my face closely. “Do you know about Levels?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “I was afraid of that,” Roan replied. Anger flashed in his eyes. “They truly did send you out there just to die. Damn Zyren. A captain's loyalty is to his men—” He cleared his throat as if he could cough the bitterness away. “Well, the past is the past. I’ll teach you what you need to know upfront.”

  He reached into a pouch and let three smaller orbs fall into my palm. They were lighter than Echo Cores and colder too; their glow muted but steady.

  “We have Echo Cores,” Roan continued, “which can carry skills or attributes. And we have XP Cores, which allow a person to increase their Level.”

  “And what does that do?” I asked.

  “All sorts of things,” Finn blurted.

  “More stats; more skills,” Vexa added.

  Roan shot them both a look. “Hey now, I’m explaining it just fine.” He nodded toward the orbs in my hand. “These are XP Cores. They have a multitude of uses. They power the ship. The aethermatter uses them to create things we need: food, water, materials.” He paused. “They can be used as raw currency. You’re most likely used to simple barter or coin?”

  I nodded.

  “In addition,” Roan continued, “they can be used to level up. So go on. Give them to Raela.”

  I stepped forward and handed Raela the three XP Cores.

  Raela stared at them, and the sunlight caught in her eyes like twinkling stars. She closed her clawed hand.

  They vanished.

  Simply gone.

  Power surged within me like wind filling a void.

  Torren Skyrat

  Level up → 2

  1 stat point to assign

  Which stat would you like to increase?

  “Stats,” I said aloud, “I don’t know what you mean?”

  Stats, or Attributes, are the numerical measure of your capabilities.

  Strength: 6

  Agility: 6

  Intelligence: 7

  Charisma: 4

  Constitution: 5

  “What are they?” Finn asked, leaning forward. “Your Stats I mean.”

  Roan gave him a hard look. “You know it’s rude to ask. May as well ask a woman her weight.”

  Raela’s gaze snapped toward Finn, sudden and violent.

  Finn immediately shrank back.

  “What should I choose?” I asked.

  “Well, that depends on the class,” Roan explained. “Each class has a primary attribute you mostly want to focus on.” He pointed vaguely as he spoke, as if he were outlining a map in the air. “Different attributes do different things depending on what you are.” He studied me for a moment, making sure I followed. “You, however, are a special case. A Changer. Truth is, you’ll benefit from all of them nearly equally. If you’re the group’s ranged magic attacker, Intelligence is good. If you’re the tank, Constitution is best. Up-front fighter… you’ll want a combination of Strength and Agility.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” I said. “What should I choose?”

  Roan shrugged, unapologetic.

  “I’d suggest against Charisma,” Vexa said. “I can’t see your stats, but if I had to guess, it’s your lowest one.”

  I grumbled in silence, even though she was right.

  “Charisma is for the healer class anyway,” she continued. “Like Dragus.”

  “Dragus is a healer?” I replied. “Him?”

  Vexa nodded once.

  “Then how was he so strong? I could’ve sworn he was a—”

  “Let’s refocus,” Roan suggested. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, and the day is short. Skip the attribute for now. Decide later.” He inhaled from his pipe and slowly exhaled. The smoke curled and vanished into the wind. “Now then. Islands. Rule of thumb: the closer an island is to Skyreach, the less dangerous it typically is.” His eyes sharpened. “Notice I said typically. Like the island you visited, sometimes the boss won’t match the level of the mobs. But that is almost never the case.”

  “Lucky me,” I muttered. “And speaking of that, you killed the boss so easily. Pyrax showed me it was Level 30. Threat level: red. How?”

  “I’m a bit higher level myself,” Roan replied.

  “How much higher?”

  “Again,” Roan said. “It’s rude to ask. But higher.”

  “And if your level is so much higher,” I pressed, “then why do we need to go at all? You could handle it yourself, can’t you?”

  Finn raised his hand as if he were back in school. Though I’d never really been to school myself, I recognized the gesture.

  “I can answer that,” Finn said. “We all need to grow so that when we tackle higher-level islands, we’re all useful.”

  Captain Roan pointed the stem of his pipe at him. “Precisely.”

  Finn beamed.

  “And why are we doing it?” I asked. “Tackling the islands, I mean.”

  Roan stared at me for a moment, and something heavy settled behind his eyes. “They truly did you a disservice, lad. Truly.” His gaze went past me, out over the cloudsea as if he could see through them. “We do this not for glory, but for the future. We do this so that one day we can find the source of the mist,” his voice hardened, “and destroy it for good.” He turned back, and every word landed like a promise. “We will bring the land back to us, so that we can leave these accursed skies. That is our goal. That is our duty.”

  I looked at each of them.

  Finn nodded; less joking, more earnest. Vexa’s face tightened with something like hope. Even Raela inclined her head, solemn for once.

  Roan cleared his throat. “Now then. One last thing before I send you three on your way.” His eyes were fixed on me. “Torren, I’m afraid it’s time. You two—grab him.”

  “Time for—”

  Three pairs of hands seized me.

  I struggled out of reflex, panic flaring hot. I tore free of Finn, but Roan and Vexa were stronger by far. I twisted, looking for help, pleading with a few nearby crew members who had stopped to watch. They held my gaze only long enough to offer pity; then looked away.

  My shirt was pulled off, the cold air biting my skin. I was shoved forward until my back faced Raela.

  “I am sorry,” Raela said, and I could tell she meant it. Her voice softened. “But this will ensure that when you need the Echo Cores most, they will not fail you.”

  Fear stilled my heart. Stole my breath.

  Then pain bloomed; sharp and immediate on my back. At first it was light, a prick…

  …and then savage.

  A wooden nail tore into my flesh and muscle, prying it back.

  I screamed. I thrashed. I fought.

  They did not let go.

  Roan and Vexa held me firm, and Finn—Finn held my shoulders with surprising strength, muttering something of an apology under his breath that I couldn’t hear over my own wails.

  Then the pain stopped abruptly, leaving a hollow feeling. I felt Raela place something into the wound; cold glass, and as suddenly as it had come, the ache dulled as power swelled within me.

  Claw of the Cockatrice (Lvl 1): Activated.

  Darkness loomed, heavy and sudden, consuming consciousness.

  ***

  “Yoo hoo. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  I woke to Finn tapping me irritably on the forehead with one finger.

  Poke. Poke. Poke—

  I slapped his hand away.

  “Finally!” Finn said, offering a hand as he rose from a kneeling position. “Thought we’d have to go without you.”

  “What happened?” I groaned.

  “You passed out,” Vexa said. “Not surprising. Raela decided to go in on a second for you.”

  My back ached; low and dull, but something else felt wrong. Off. I reached behind me toward the sore area and touched smooth glass instead of flesh.

  I recoiled.

  “Probably shouldn’t touch it,” Vexa said. “For now, at least. We’ve already had one of our healers look at you.”

  “… Was it that asshole, Dragus?” I asked.

  For the first time, I noticed Roan was still there, smoking his pipe as if nothing had happened. He sputtered a laugh. “You’ve sure got his number, lad. Asshole—damn right he is.” He exhaled smoke. “But he’s also a crewmate, and a damn fine healer who’s saved many asses aboard this ship. Just try to remember that when you speak to him for more than five minutes. It’s what keeps me from wanting to tear his damn head off most of the time.”

  “So it was Dragus who healed me?”

  Vexa rolled her hand from side to side. “Eh. More or less. He said he did, but I think he skimped.” Her eyes flicked to me. “You should feel little to no pain.”

  I forced myself to stand. The deck shifted under my feet, but I managed. It didn’t hurt like it should have, but there was still a sharp edge to it. “He held back,” I muttered.

  “Prick,” Finn said.

  Then I latched onto Vexa’s earlier words. “Vexa,” I asked, “what did you mean when you said Raela went in for another?”

  “I can answer for myself,” Raela said. Her massive wooden form leaned over me. From my vantage point, her face was mostly hidden behind cleavage. “I sensed that you could tolerate a second Echo,” she continued, “and so I made you a second socket.”

  “‘Socket?’” I repeated.

  “The cut in your skin, dear,” she replied. “Keep up. While Echoes don’t necessarily require them, they allow you to be more attuned; as I have previously explained. Typically, crew members keep any battle-related Echoes socketed, and hold other nonessential ones.”

  “And why on my back?” I asked.

  “I’ll answer that,” Roan said. “Closer to the spine, the better. If you ever run out of space, then we can work on your other parts.”

  “How many can you have?” I asked.

  “Depends on the person,” Raela replied. “The most I’ve seen is eight.”

  My mouth fell open. “Who has eight?”

  Roan casually turned and lifted his coat. There, glittering off-white like pearls, were eight Echoes socketed into various parts of his back. He dropped his coat again as if it were nothing but a trifle.

  Raela shot him bedroom eyes.

  Finn stared at her and feigned disgust. “Get a room, you two,” he said.

  Roan gave him a dangerous glance, but Raela only laughed.

  “You know, Finn,” she said sweetly, “you’re my favorite.”

  “I am?” Finn asked, excitement plain in his tone.

  “No.”

  His excitement collapsed into offended shock.

  “Now, off you go,” Raela said. “Oh, sorry dear, that’s your job.” She sighed dramatically. “As for me, the blood and gore has set me in a mood to rest. Why don’t you bring me that machine, dear… the one with those beautiful noises.”

  “The music box?” Roan asked.

  Raela let out a pleased breath. “Ah yes. That. Such beautiful instruments. Humans can make such lovely sounds when they aren’t grunting away.” Her eyes slid toward Roan. “Not you, though, my dear captain. I do so enjoy your grunting—”

  “Time to go,” Vexa said flatly.

  I silently agreed.

  “Wait one moment,” Raela called.

  I turned back. In her hand she held a pair of footwear—white, with a red mark.

  The Nikes.

  “Take them,” Raela said. “I’ve already examined them. They’re a tier 2 rare item. Not a bad find.”

  Finn whistled. “Tier 2 on your first go. Not too shabby.” At my confused look, he added, “I’ll explain on the way down. We wasted enough time as it is.”

  I took the footwear and followed them toward the skiff, my back aching, and a strange new weight of power sitting just beneath my skin.