The sky hadn't been right since they left the reef.
The fog had peeled away like a second skin, but something lingered in the air. A hush. A weight. It followed the Cloudreaper like a second shadow, trailing behind its stern as if reluctant to let them go.
Kairo stood near the edge of the deck, both hands gripping the rail. The wind whipped through his hair, but he barely felt it. His thoughts were still buried in bone and memory—in that cursed place where the wind had whispered in voices not its own.
"You're quieter than usual," Cinder said, stepping beside him. He sipped from a steaming mug that smelled like burnt cinnamon and citrus peel. "That thing back there… it's sticking to you, huh?"
Kairo nodded. "I saw her, Cinder. My mother. Her voice… it felt real."
Cinder didn't speak right away. Just handed him the mug. "Drink. You'll feel more human."
The warmth of the tea helped, but it didn't shake the image. His mother's smile. Her tears. The way her voice cracked when she said his name. Why did you let me go, Kairo?
He turned to the sound of boots on wood. Velka approached, unrolling a scroll across a barrel near the helm. Her eyes were sharp, lips tight.
"The Atlas revealed a new heading," she said without preamble. "South-southeast. Through the Stormspire Expanse."
Cinder groaned. "That sounds like a place where ships go to die."
"It is," Velka replied.
Kairo looked up. "What's there?"
"Secrets," she said. "And answers."
That was all the motivation he needed.
The Stormspire didn't wait to welcome them.
By midafternoon, the skies darkened unnaturally fast. The clouds turned an oily black, coiling like smoke in water. Lightning didn't flash—it rippled sideways like glowing cracks in glass. And the wind… it howled like a thing with teeth.
Velka had tied herself to the helm with rope. "Hold her steady!" she shouted. "Keep above the rift-line or we'll be torn apart!"
Cinder cursed as he ducked a flying crate. "Next time we see a cursed sky-map, remind me to burn it."
Kairo clutched the railing with white knuckles, the Atlas tight in his other hand. It pulsed again, the glow growing stronger the deeper they flew into the storm.
Suddenly, the clouds parted—not fully, just enough to reveal something impossible:
A floating temple, carved into the shape of a bird with spread wings, perched on a fragment of land spinning slowly in the storm's heart. Massive golden spires jutted out from the rock, catching what little light broke through the clouds.
The Atlas flared.
"That's it," Kairo breathed. "That's where it wants us to go."
Velka adjusted their course, jaw clenched.
As the Cloudreaper banked toward the temple, a sharp cry split the air. Not wind. Not thunder.
A screech—metallic, inhuman.
Kairo turned just in time to see dark shapes rising from the mist. Winged. Armored.
And watching.
Enemies had found them.
END OF CHAPTER 11