Wind ripped through Vance's shirt, turning cloth into something fierce that beat at his injured chest. Not flying - this fall from high above - it pressed on him like a sound-filled weight made of nothing but sky. Speed stole breath straight out of his body, leaving only quick, broken pulls of air just so he could stay awake while the wounded heavens of the Fracture tumbled in circles all around.
Into the dive he twisted, each motion a slow bargain with limbs that no longer obeyed. His right foot, rebuilt but lifeless, scraped inward - bone on bone, like chalk dragged across broken tile. Without the deep nourishment marrow once gave, those bones trembled, thin and porous, ready to split apart under pressure. Outstretched arms caught air, yanking tension along the scarred seam stitched down his left upper arm. Wires beneath skin tugged tight, mimicking something sharp and burning carving slowly through live tissue.
A sharp dread cut through the pain in his head. This mark from something not of Earth pressed like frozen stone buried deep where neck meets mind. Cold without heat burned inside, timed exactly to the fall of the creature beneath - six wings pulling it down fast through open air.
Falling fast, Elena Rostova aimed straight at the huge glass tank holding the full Aethelgard Watcher. Though she had shadow-made wings, they stayed pressed close, making her white body cut through air like something built to strike.
Above the struggling creature, smoke curled from Elian's torn sleeve. Not far below, the thing once called apex spun with no grip on air, claws scraping nothing. Power surged through its dark coat, stolen from prison cells deep inside the metal ship, yet cold mist swallowed every spark before it could strike. Screaming without sound, the boy dropped closer to chaos, fabric snapping like a loose sail. Beside him, Vance watched - still, quiet, out of reach.
Down there, red dust met sky in a brutal clash. His eyes stung, blurred by rushing air, yet he stared - searching that falling world beneath him.
Down it fell, the giant glass chamber housing the radiant owl, slicing through air like a falling star aimed at the Obsidian Cartel's warships. Not once did Julian Thorne just blow up the foundation beneath it, hoping for destruction on landing. Instead, hulking command vehicles spread across the open valley floor, arranged in a broad ring. On top of each, thick clusters of emitters swiveled skyward, locking onto the plunging container. Their mission: secure the divine being before it touched ground.
Landing hard means turning to liquid, that much is certain. Surviving might happen only if they latch onto the Cartel's slowing target - kinetic forces could then allow just a sliver of hope. A wrong move wipes out even that.
Through the jagged link of the Parasitic Tether, Vance pushed pure determination into the trembling creature. Not kindness - just a sharp picture of the falling glass pod. Then came the need: a magnetic hook, now.
For one awful moment, Axiom resisted - then raw need took over. Mid-leap, the creature bent its huge frame like smoke reshaped by wind. From crackling fangs burst a heavy stream of black electric fire, unbroken, pouring forth without pause.
A wire snapped through air, missing earth. Down it whipped - hitting thick metal bones and wet-vein pipes clamped to the outside shell of the dropping sleep-tube.
Fragments of force laced into the Cartel gear, jerking it rigid.
A sharp snap tore through Vance's arm, almost wrenching it loose. Instead of air, something thick and alive caught hold - yanking him sideways, off balance, straight at the creature. From above, Axiom pulled tight like a wire wound around stone, dragging both bodies fast along that flickering thread of black current, down into the shattering shell of the falling glass box.
Down they plunged, when the snapping energy lash caught Elian mid-flail. Not a gentle touch - the surge grabbed hold of his stiff workwear like a hook, yanking him sideways, halting his spin. It pulled him behind them without warning.
Far beneath their frantic moves, Elena found the stasis room.
A flicker of stormlight caught the edge of her fingers as she reached forward. Fury - old and sharp - burned in those violet eyes, unblinking. Her plan was clear without a word: shatter the machine that held power over minds. Break open the cage where the seraphic owl waited, silent and bound.
The trap set by Julian Thorne snapped shut without a hitch. Instead of holding bombs, the thick cluster of Obsidian Cartel bio-valves fastened to the glass housed tight-beam repulsion units. The moment Elena's warped gravity brushed against the enclosure, the Cartel machinery erupted in response.
Out of nowhere, a huge burst of clashing energy ripped through the air. Pressure crashed against pressure when the two forces hit mid-sky. No sound came first - just raw motion tearing space apart. The impact unfolded like a silent explosion nobody saw coming. Air itself seemed to rebel, shoved in every direction at once.
A violent explosion hurled Elena into the air. Wings - six of them - snapped wide, halting her rise just before she vanished into thick ice-laden mist. She twisted against the storm, battling a machine-born gust that shoved her sideways.
A sudden burst of force made the glass chamber fall twice as fast. Speed built quickly after that sharp jolt sent it downward.
Vance hit the thick glass first, followed by Axiom and then Elian, landing hard as the chamber broke through the last stretch of sky over the valley.
A sharp jolt stole what little breath Vance had left. Pain shot through his rebuilt foot, fragile bones aching like they might split apart at any second. Flat on the icy, glassy floor now, he clawed at metal seams with torn fingers - anything to keep from slipping into nothing below.
Faster than thought, the shout tore from Vance - swallowed whole by the storm's roar.
Beneath stood the Obsidian Cartel's command crawlers, powering up their emitter arrays without delay.
A vast funnel-like web rose from the valley ground, thick with pulsing energy that hushed motion. Hitting it, the descending stasis pod met a hidden cushion of heavy air.
Brutal beyond belief, the slowing down hit hard. It stopped fast, too sudden to grasp.
The cage kept moving, even though it was slowing fast - miles of speed vanishing by the second. Heavy pressure smashed Vance into the glass, his sight shrinking to tiny black dots at the edges. On his left arm, the rough wire sutures split just enough for blood to slide down, heated and slow, as muscle fought impossible weight. Axiom cried out, crushed under its own bulk, stuck hard against the clear ceiling above.
A deep boom rolled across the red earth as the stasis pod landed hard, right where the Cartel's border closed in around it.
A swirl of dirt and dead leaves surged into the air, hiding the ships meant to block their path.
Vance didn't move a muscle, stretched flat across the rooftop pane, each gasp sharp and thin, tasting like rust. The fall hadn't killed him. Under his battered ribs, the golden mechanism stayed quiet - frozen - not a single pulse, held down by something else: a flawless Aethelgard Watcher suspended below, calm in its clear, unmoving liquid, close enough he could see it breathe through the glass.
Fine particles hung in the air before dropping bit by bit, uncovering vehicles - black, hulking machines from the Obsidian Cartel - parked tight around where they had landed.
A shape came down out of the sky - Elena Rostova - moving slow but full of dread. Twenty paces off, where the ground had burned black, she landed soft, feet meeting cracked soil without sound. Her six wings drew inward then, melting like smoke before vanishing into dark ripples behind her.
Out came a creaking sound as the thick armored gates on the main control vehicle slid apart.
Out past the trees came Julian Thorne. His suit - midnight blue, custom-made - looked fresh, like the Fracture had never happened. Resting on a cane shaped like a raven's skull, polished silver, he stood calm. Beside him loomed two Cartel guards, tall, altered, built for force.
Far off the edge of sight stood the six-winged god, motionless amid wreckage. The heir turned away. Floating inside clear walls was a flawless owl, radiant, untouched. His gaze never landed there.
Julian lifted his chin, nudged his small black lenses into place, stared straight upward - where a battered teen clung to the room's ceiling. Blood traced thin lines down their temple.
"I must admit, Mr. Kensington," Julian called out, his smooth voice echoing clearly across the silent, heavily armed perimeter. "When I calculated the trajectory to steal the Watcher from the Vanguard, I factored in a negligible margin of error. I certainly did not expect the miss
ing temporal gear to politely deliver itself directly onto my doorstep."