The deck of the Carrion Vulture became a slaughterhouse of steam and shadow.
Two 'Blood-Hound' frigates had latched onto the Nomads' ship with massive, barbed harpoons, their iron teeth grinding into the ship's bone-spine. From the fog, figures in white-and-gold armor swarmed the deck—Justiciars of the Second Circle, their steam-powered halberds humming with lethal frequencies.
But among them moved a ghost.
The Wraith-Guard—the smoke-faced warrior—glided across the chaos, his movements a blurring defiance of physics. He didn't use a sword; he used 'pure intent.' Every time he raised a hand, the air crystallized into shadow-spears that impaled Nomad scouts through their reinforced leather armor.
Corvin burst onto the deck, Kael clutched behind him. The boy was trembling, his hair flickering between silver and that terrifying obsidian.
"Kael, stay low!" Corvin roared, his blade carving a path through the first wave of Justiciars.
He didn't fight like a man; he fought like a failing machine. He ignored the 'Crimson Leak' that was now a steady stream down his neck. He used the flat of his blade to deflect halberds, then slammed his palm into the chests of his enemies, releasing kinetic shockwaves that shattered their ribs and sent them hurtling into the violet abyss below.
"Silencer!" the Wraith-Guard's voice vibrated through the air, a sound like grinding metal. "You protect a tomb. Give us the Seed, and I will grant you the 'Eternal Silence' you so desperately crave."
"I've had enough of your silence!" Corvin countered, launching himself forward.
The clash was tectonic. When Corvin's kinetic blade hit the Wraith-Guard's shadow-spear, the shockwave blew out the ship's amber lanterns, plunging the deck into a strobe-light of sparks and violet fog. Corvin felt the cold of the Void biting into his bones, fighting the white-hot heat of his own resonance.
"You are dying, Corvin," the specter whispered, their faces inches apart. The blue smoke behind the shattered visor swirled in a mocking pattern. "Your sister died for nothing. You will die for a shadow."
At the mention of Elara, Corvin's control snapped. He didn't 'Shape' a shield; he 'Shaped' an explosion. He focused every ounce of his remaining life-force into his fractured blade, turning the steel into a sun of pure kinetic energy.
The explosion threw the Wraith-Guard back, but it also tore the Vulture's deck apart. The ship's spine snapped with a sound that could be heard for miles.
"Maren! The hangar!" Corvin wheezed, his lungs burning.
Maren, bleeding from a scalp wound, fired her steam-rifle into a vat of volatile marrow-oil near the Blood-Hound's harpoons. "Get to the escape-pod! The Vulture is going down!"
Corvin grabbed Kael, but the boy wasn't running. He was looking at the Wraith-Guard, who was standing up, unaffected by the blast.
"He's not a ghost," Kael whispered, his eyes turning solid black. "He's a mirror. Corvin, he's what you would have become if you hadn't stopped."
Kael reached out, not to Corvin, but to the air itself. He didn't create a void this time. He created a 'Pull.' The magnetic tethers of the Blood-Hound frigates began to invert, dragging the enemy ships into each other in a cacophony of crushing iron and screaming men.
"Now!" Corvin grabbed the boy and leaped toward the small, bone-shaped escape-pod as the Carrion Vulture began its terminal descent into the Great Void.
Behind them, the Wraith-Guard stood amidst the burning wreckage, his blue mist pulsing as he watched them fall. He didn't pursue. He didn't fire. He simply waited.