The village of Merrowstead bustled even after sundown, lanterns swinging above the narrow streets, casting long shadows across cobblestone alleys. A few stalls stayed open late, hawking bread, tools, and scraps of fabric. To most, it was an ordinary night.
To Axel, it was another wasted day.
His boots splashed through a puddle as he stalked down the main road, blonde hair catching the glow of a lantern. His mechanical arm hissed faintly with every movement, a constant reminder of what he'd lost. The chainsword on his back was heavy, but not half as heavy as the fury smoldering in his chest.
"Slipped through our hands again," he muttered, voice sharp enough to cut. "Always just one step ahead. I should've had him, should've ended him."
Cain walked beside him, hands tucked in his pockets, calm where Axel was storm. His crimson eyes swept the villagers, noting how they deliberately avoided the pair. "Charging blindly won't catch him," Cain said smoothly. "We need to think. He can't vanish forever."
Axel shot him a glare. "Easy for you to say. You didn't lose everything to him." His metal fingers clenched tight, the servos whining with strain. "I'll see that witch boy bleed if it's the last thing I do."
They passed a tavern, its doorway spilling light and laughter into the street. For a heartbeat, Cain slowed, watching the crowd inside, merchants, a couple of beastfolk with tails swishing lazily, and locals sharing drinks. Ordinary lives. Ordinary people.
"Someone here must've seen something," Cain said. "A floating house doesn't just pass unnoticed."
Axel gave a bitter laugh. "These villagers wouldn't know the devil if he walked past their door. But fine. We'll ask." His eyes burned as he pushed open the tavern door, the scent of smoke and ale washing over them.
The hunt wasn't over. It was only sharpening.
The tavern quieted when Axel and Cain stepped in. Laughter thinned, mugs lowered, and a few cautious eyes darted their way. Outsiders were always suspicious, but these two carried themselves like men who brought trouble.
Cain's voice was smooth as he approached the barkeep. "We're looking for information. Nothing dangerous, nothing that'll get anyone hurt. Just… sightings. Anything strange in the skies recently."
The barkeep frowned, wiping his hands on a rag. "Strange skies? This isn't a port town. Nearest airships dock two days east."
Axel slammed his metal hand on the counter, rattling mugs. "Not talking about airships. A house. A floating house. You see one or not?"
The room went still. The barkeep gave a nervous chuckle. "Floating houses? You think we drink too much here, friend?"
A few patrons muttered and shook their heads. Some looked away, deciding this conversation wasn't theirs to join.
Cain's crimson eyes swept the room, calm but sharp. "Think harder. Something unusual must've passed by."
Silence. Then, from a corner, an old woman spoke. "I saw lights. In the clouds, last night. Thought it was stars at first, but they… moved. Too fast for stars." She wrung her hands nervously when Axel turned on her with a predator's stare.
"Where?" Axel snapped.
The woman flinched. "South. Over the ridge. Didn't linger."
Cain laid a hand on Axel's arm before he could press harder. "That's enough. Thank you."
But as they turned to leave, Cain's sharp gaze caught something by the door, a slip of pale fabric, snagged on a nail jutting from the frame. He tugged it free: a torn ribbon, delicate and fine, threaded with gold stitching. Not the kind of thing worn by villagers.
Axel's eyes narrowed. "That's not local."
Cain nodded, tucking the ribbon away. "No. Someone important passed through here."
Axel's mechanical fist clenched, his rage twisting into cold resolve. "The princess." His voice was a low growl. "She's been here."
For the first time that night, Cain allowed a small, satisfied smile.
The tavern door swung shut behind them, leaving the murmurs of uneasy villagers in their wake.
The hunt had a new trail.
The night air was sharp as Axel and Cain stepped out of the tavern, the ribbon clutched tight in Axel's metal hand. Lanterns flickered along the dirt road, casting long shadows toward the southern ridge.
Their skiff waited at the edge of town, its metal frame humming faintly with power. A battered vessel, patched and reinforced too many times to count, but its engines still roared when Axel slammed his fist against the ignition. The glow of the thrusters bathed his blonde hair in firelight.
Cain climbed aboard with his usual grace, arms folded as he leaned against the railing. "You're sure this isn't just another dead end?"
Axel strapped his chainsword across his back, the weapon's teeth rattling as if eager for blood. His eyes burned with a feverish determination. "Fabric like this doesn't belong in a village like that. She's here. With him."
The engines roared louder, shaking the ground beneath them. Axel gritted his teeth. "And I'll carve the truth out of that witch boy's throat if I have to."
The skiff lifted, lanterns shrinking below as they broke into the night sky. The village dwindled to a scattering of lights, swallowed by the darkness of the ridge. Ahead, clouds churned like restless beasts, the faintest shimmer of unnatural glow bleeding through.
Cain's crimson gaze lingered on the horizon. "If he really has the princess… the king won't be the only one hunting him."
Axel's grip tightened on the controls, his mechanical hand creaking with the pressure. "Then they'd better stay out of my way."
The skiff surged south, cutting through the night, engines screaming like hounds on a fresh scent.
The witch boy's time was running out.
Juliette tugged at her cloak as the floating house hummed steadily beneath her feet, the vibrations low and constant like a sleeping beast. She'd been quiet for most of the evening, staring out the window where the dark expanse of clouds blurred into the horizon.
But then her hand brushed against her hair. Empty.
Her heart sank. She fumbled quickly through her cloak, her dress, the small pouch she'd carried from the village. Nothing.
"My ribbon…" Her voice cracked, too soft at first, then louder. "Leo, have you seen my ribbon? The blue one, my favorite one?"
Leo's ears perked "no", his tail twitched, a nervous flick of yellow against the floor. "The one you always tie your hair with? Uh…" He scratched the back of his head, avoiding her wide-eyed gaze. "Did you lose it back in the village?"
Juliette froze, a cold dread spreading through her chest. "It must have slipped off. Someone could have found it."
Leo tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, it's just a ribbon. We can get you a new one—"
"No," Juliette snapped, surprising them both. She pressed a hand against her chest, her necklace's blue crystals cool against her palm. "That ribbon… it's been with me for years. If someone picks it up and realizes…"
She didn't finish the thought. Didn't want to.
Leo's tail stilled. He reached out gently, tugging her sleeve. "Juliette, don't panic. Nobody knows who you are out here. It's just a ribbon, nothing more."
But Juliette wasn't convinced. She turned back toward the window, her reflection pale and uneasy against the glass. For the first time since stepping foot in Ash's skyborne home, she felt a new kind of weight, like the world itself had just tilted against her.
Somewhere below, someone might be holding her ribbon right now.
And if they knew what it meant…
Juliette pressed her forehead to the glass, fighting the sting in her eyes. The sky outside blurred, the stars smearing into streaks as the house drifted onward.
Behind her, a page turned.
She stiffened.
Ash lounged on the couch, a book open in one hand, the faintest curl of a smile playing at his lips. His black eyes flicked lazily toward her, then back to the page. "All this fuss over a ribbon."
Juliette spun around, heat rising to her cheeks. "It's not just a ribbon."
Ash hummed, unconcerned. "No? Looked like cloth to me."
Leo's tail flicked, his shoulders tense. "Ash—"
But Juliette stepped forward, anger sparking through her unease. "If someone finds it, they could trace it back to me. To us. You don't even care, do you?"
Ash shut the book with a snap. His smile lingered, thin and unreadable. "Care? Princess, I don't waste my time on scraps of fabric." He leaned back, resting the book on his chest. "But if someone does find it…" His gaze slid to her necklace, and his voice dropped lower. "Then things will get interesting."
Juliette's breath caught. For a moment, she hated him for being so calm, for seeing danger as if it were nothing more than another page in his book.
Leo stepped between them, glaring. "You don't have to say it like that."
Ash tilted his head, studying Juliette again. A flicker of curiosity, almost wonder, passed through his eyes before he waved a hand dismissively. "Worry if you like. It changes nothing. The world's already moving toward us, with or without a ribbon."
And just like that, he opened his book again, as though the conversation had ended.
But for Juliette, the unease only deepened. Juliette's voice cracked as she snapped at him.
"It's not just a ribbon. It was my mother's. The last thing I had of hers…"
Her throat tightened, tears spilling before she could stop them. She clutched the gold chain of her necklace like it might hold her together. "You don't understand anything."
Before either Ash or Leo could answer, she spun away, storming down the hall. The slam of her door echoed through the house, sharp and final.
Silence.
Leo shifted uncomfortably, his tail drooping. "You didn't have to make fun of her," he said quietly.
Ash leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "It's a ribbon, Leo. Just a strip of fabric."
But his words rang hollow, even to himself. The image of her tears burned in his mind. Not weakness, something else. A weight he didn't know how to name.
When Leo retreated upstairs, Ash sat in the dark, listening to the hum of the engines, until finally he stood.
Without another word, he stepped outside. The night air rushed against him as he leapt from the balcony, letting the wind carry him downward. Wings didn't catch him, only his own strength, his body cutting through the air as though it belonged to him.
The village below still glowed faintly with lanterns. Ash touched down silently on a rooftop, scanning the streets. A few stalls still stood half-open, their owners lingering. His eyes searched every corner, every alley.
No ribbon.
He scoured for nearly an hour before stopping at a tailor's stall, the woman yawning as she packed away her wares.
"Ribbon," he said simply. "Blue. Silk."
The woman raised a brow at his odd demand but rummaged through a drawer, producing one. Ash dropped money on the counter without counting them and took it.
Back in the air, flying toward the floating house, he studied the ribbon in his hand. It wasn't hers. It wasn't her mother's.
But maybe… maybe it would stop her from crying.
For reasons he couldn't explain, that thought mattered.
Morning
Birdsong broke the stillness. Juliette rubbed her eyes, bleary from crying, and noticed something at her doorstep.
She knelt, picking up the folded ribbon. Blue, soft, finer than the one she'd lost. She pressed it between her fingers, staring in disbelief.
Breakfast was quiet, Leo munching on bread while his tail lazily flicked behind him. Juliette sat across from him, the ribbon clutched in her hand.
"Leo… did you put this at my door?" she asked.
He blinked, crumbs on his lips. "Huh? No. Why?"
Her heart skipped. She opened her mouth to press him but saw his confusion was genuine.
Her gaze flicked across the room, where Ash leaned in his chair, a book in one hand, utterly disinterested. He didn't look at her. Didn't say a word.
But she knew.
Juliette tied the ribbon carefully into her hair, letting her fingers linger there. "Nothing," she whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Ash turned a page in his book.
And for once, didn't smirk.
The morning passed quietly. Ash barely lifted his eyes from his book, stretched across the couch like he hadn't a care in the world. Juliette moved about the room, forcing herself into little tasks just to keep her hands busy, sweeping, adjusting the cloak she'd bought, tying and untying the ribbon in her hair as though to reassure herself it was really there.
Leo, oblivious, chatted about the village, about the different beastmen he'd seen, about the kinds of bread he wanted to try next time. Juliette listened with half an ear, though her gaze strayed often to Ash.
He never once looked back.
By midday, Ash finally closed his book with a dull thud. "We move again tomorrow," he said simply. "The longer we stay put, the easier it is to be found."
Juliette froze at the words. They stung, not because he was wrong, but because part of her had been starting to enjoy this, the quiet mornings, the strange safety of this house, the small, unspoken things.
But Ash's expression never wavered. Detached. Cold. Like always.
Juliette lowered her eyes, brushing her fingers against the ribbon again. She didn't argue, didn't thank him. She just tied it tighter and whispered to herself, too soft for either of them to hear:
"Then I'll follow."
The day unfolded slowly, each hour dragging in its own peculiar weight.
Juliette sat at the long, uneven table in the main room, a book open in front of her. The words blurred together, unreadable, she wasn't paying attention anyway. Her fingers toyed restlessly with the edge of her ribbon, twisting it around and around, as though afraid it might vanish again if she let go.
Leo, ever restless, sprawled on the floor beside her chair, tail flicking lazily. He gnawed on an apple core, tossing the seeds across the wooden boards like pebbles on a pond. Every so often he glanced up at her. "You're frowning again."
"I'm not."
"You are," he said simply, rolling onto his back with a grin. "That's your 'thinking about Ash' face."
Her cheeks heated. "I do not have a face for that."
"Sure you do. Right now." He pointed at her with a pawlike hand, golden eyes glinting. "You're wondering if he's as heartless as he seems."
Juliette snapped her book shut, shooting him a glare. "And what if I am?"
Leo rolled back upright, suddenly more serious. "Then you're wasting time. Ash is Ash. Weird, cold, grumpy Ash. But he's not… evil. He doesn't protect himself with words like we do. He just… does what needs to be done. That's what I like about him."
The words stuck to her ribs like honey, thick and cloying. She wanted to argue, but couldn't find the will.
Later, Ash appeared from the back room, wiping a faint trace of black dust from his hands, remnants of whatever spellwork or notes he'd been toying with. The faint smell of burnt cloth clung to him, sharper than the ink and dust of the book now tucked under his arm. His eyes slid to Juliette, then to Leo, lingering only for a second before he moved toward the couch.
He sat down heavily, flipping open his book, posture slouched but deliberate. He didn't speak, he rarely did unless pressed, but something about the way his gaze flicked toward Juliette's ribbon as she adjusted it made her throat tighten.
Juliette clenched her jaw. She wanted to ask him if it was him who'd left it. To thank him. To demand why he even bothered when he claimed not to care. But the words tangled uselessly in her chest, and instead she stood abruptly, moving toward the window.
Outside, the sky spread endless and blue, dotted with drifting clouds. The horizon was silent. Vast. Free.
She pressed her palm against the glass, aching at the thought that she couldn't step into it.
Not without him.