Chapter Sixteen: The Stormglass Expanse (Now With More Existential Terror)
The next morning greeted them with lightning. Lots of lightning.
The Hollow Dream sailed into the Stormglass Expanse, a sprawling canyon of floating crystal shards, raging winds, and glowing clouds that looked suspiciously like they held grudges.
"Why is the sky buzzing?" Elric asked, clutching his duck-embroidered blanket like a life preserver.
"Because the clouds are alive," Captain Frix called from the helm. "And they're mean."
The ship creaked as it passed between jagged, floating glass formations—each one refracting their reflections in unsettling, too-sharp ways.
Dorian tapped the hilt of his sword. "If my reflection starts moving on its own, I'm jumping overboard."
"Not before me," Seraphine muttered, still pale from the poison but stubbornly upright.
The Reflection Problem
As they sailed deeper into the Expanse, the glass began playing tricks.
Elliott caught his own reflection smiling at him when he wasn't.
Marlow's reflection waved—while her real self very much did not.
Dorian's reflection flexed dramatically. That one might've been accurate.
"This is bad," Elric declared. "I've read about this. It's called Mirror Rot. The glass warps your mind. Makes you see things. Hear things. Lose track of what's real."
Elliott looked around at the endless, floating shards.
"Great," he muttered. "An entire canyon of magical gaslighting."
Something in the Fog
The fog thickened.
Lightning cracked across the sky, briefly illuminating a massive shape in the distance.
A floating fortress.
Iron spires. Dark banners. Cannons.
"That," Seraphine whispered, "is the Black Bastion."
"The Collector's fortress," Dorian added grimly.
Elliott's stomach twisted. "I thought they wanted us to collect the shards. Why send assassins and follow us?"
"Maybe they changed their minds," Marlow suggested.
"Or maybe," Elric said nervously, "they never wanted us alive in the first place."
Incoming Hostiles
Before they could speculate further, dark ships emerged from the mist.
Pirates? No.
Worse.
Wraithrunners.
Crewed by shades. Ships made of bone and ghostwood. Sails of woven mist.
"They found us!" Frix shouted.
Cannon fire erupted.
Elliott grabbed the relic, which pulsed wildly in his hands.
"What do we do?!" he yelled.
Seraphine tossed him a knife. "You pray. And you fight."
Aerial Combat and Bad Life Choices
The Hollow Dream ducked and weaved through the glass shards as Wraithrunners fired ethereal bolts.
Dorian deflected a shadow spear midair.
Elric accidentally opened a portal that spat out a disgruntled goat (which promptly headbutted a shade off the deck).
Elliott tried to focus, the relic growing hot in his grip.
A voice whispered again.
"Use me."
He hesitated—then slammed the relic onto the ship's runestone.
Golden flames burst outward, forming a shield that deflected the incoming barrage.
The Wraithrunners faltered.
But the relic's hum deepened—darker. Like it had taken a bite out of him and wanted more.
Escape... Mostly
They broke through the Expanse, the Black Bastion vanishing into the mist behind them.
The crew cheered weakly.
Elliott collapsed onto the deck, chest heaving.
Marlow knelt beside him, eyes worried. "You used the relic."
"Had to," he panted. "They would've killed us."
"But every time you use it..." She trailed off, staring at the faint, smoky lines creeping up his arms—markings that hadn't been there before.
"I'm fine," Elliott lied.
The relic pulsed in agreement.
Only Elliott heard its faint, hungry laugh.
Closing Scene: Meanwhile, in the Shadows
In the Black Bastion, the shadowed figure watched the skies.
"They've grown bold," the figure mused. "The relic responds to him."
Behind them, another form stepped from the darkness—clockwork limbs, face hidden behind a steel mask.
"Shall I bring them in?"
The figure smiled.
"No. Let them run. Let them think they're winning."
They turned to the storm-tossed window.
"And when they believe they've reached the end—I'll be waiting."
End of Chapter Sixteen