The ride back was quiet.
Not peaceful—just quiet in the way a storm sometimes holds its breath before breaking.
The airship cut steadily through a grey, unmoving sky. The hull vibrated faintly beneath my boots, a low hum that settled into the bones if you stayed still long enough. Every now and then, the frame creaked, metal adjusting to pressure and altitude.
Across from us, Aries Beta ate.
Not politely. Not slowly.
He tore through food with single-minded focus, like someone who had ignored hunger for too long and suddenly remembered it existed. Wrappers crinkled. Tin lids snapped open and were discarded without care. A small pile of empty containers gathered at his feet, shifting slightly each time the ship tilted.
No one commented.
Behind me, something drifted.
I turned just enough to catch it in the corner of my eye.
An object hovered near the rear of the cabin.
Black.
Three-dimensional… but wrong.
My gaze fixed on it.
It refused to settle into any familiar shape. Its edges bent where they shouldn't, folding inward and outward at the same time. It wasn't quite a sphere. Not a cube either. Something in between—geometry that hadn't decided what it wanted to be.
Or couldn't.
The longer I looked, the more my eyes resisted it, like trying to hold focus on something that wasn't meant to be seen.
"Can I go to her?" I asked.
Miss Rho didn't even look up at first.
"No."
The word landed flat. Final.
No room for negotiation.
I let the silence stretch after that.
If Victoria survived, I would see her again at headquarters. Rushing now would change nothing.
So I stayed where I was.
And watched.
Miss Rho sat beside the strange woman—Lady Alvie—pouring tea as though they were in a quiet parlor instead of a humming airship miles above the ground. The porcelain cups made soft, precise sounds as they touched the saucers. Steam rose in thin curls, disappearing into the cool air.
Aries Alpha lay stretched across a bench, a book open in his hands. His eyes moved steadily across the page, unbothered by the motion of the ship. Beside him, his sword rested in its sheath.
Still.
After seeing what Beta could do… I doubted that blade was anything ordinary.
Then—
Miss Rho moved.
It wasn't dramatic.
No build-up. No preparation.
She simply reached out—and pulled.
Space tore.
A thin slit opened in the air, like fabric cut cleanly with a blade. No light spilled from it. No sound escaped. It was just… absence. A gap where something should have been.
Without ceremony, she lifted the unconscious cultist—Eudora—and pushed her through.
The slit closed immediately after.
No qi.
No ritual.
No artifact.
Reality just… complied.
I straightened without realizing it.
"Are you thinking about a biscuit?" Miss Rho asked suddenly, appearing beside me.
"Biscuit?"
She held one out anyway.
I took it.
"Thank you."
The texture crumbled lightly between my fingers. Dry. Slightly sweet. Normal.
Around us, everyone was eating.
Even Lady Alvie sipped her tea, her movements measured, almost delicate.
Then the music returned.
It drifted through the cabin again—structured, layered, precise.
"What is that sound you had playing earlier?" I asked.
"Oh," Lady Alvie said lightly, setting her cup down. "The Well-Tempered Clavier by Johann Sebastian Bach."
She handed me a cup.
The porcelain was warm against my fingers.
I nodded, though the name meant little to me.
There were too many questions.
Too many things that didn't fit together.
And something in my chest told me asking wouldn't help.
"You all seem to eat a lot," I said instead.
A small smile touched her lips.
"The job demands it," she said, placing a hand lightly against her chest.
Across the room, Beta had stopped moving.
He'd fallen asleep mid-meal.
A half-open tin rested against his leg, tilting slightly with the ship's motion.
Alpha hadn't moved at all.
Still reading.
"Just a few more hours," Miss Rho said, glancing at her pocket watch. "Then we'll be home."
Her eyes shifted to me.
"How are you liking your new job—"
She paused.
A soft laugh followed.
"Perhaps not the best time for that question."
Even Lady Alvie had drifted into sleep now, her posture unchanged, cup still in hand.
"It has its ups and downs," I said.
The words felt thin.
After a moment, the question rose again.
I didn't stop it this time.
"Will she be okay?"
Miss Rho's expression softened slightly.
"I don't know," she said. "We'll have to see what the doctors say."
Her hand rested briefly on my head.
A light pat.
Behind her, her tail swayed lazily.
"How did—"
The question died.
The airship lurched.
Violently.
The floor tilted beneath us, sharp enough to throw my balance off. My stomach dropped as the angle shifted—downward. Fast.
"We are under attack!" Miss Rho shouted, already moving.
She sprinted toward the rear compartment, boots striking hard against the floor.
The hum of the ship changed pitch, straining.
The ground—far below—tilted into view through the windows.
Too fast.
Too close.
Rho returned moments later, Victoria slung over her shoulder. Her clothes had been changed—properly dressed—but she remained unconscious, head hanging loosely with each step.
"Beta, wake up!" Alpha barked.
He moved in one fluid motion, lifting the still-sleeping Lady Alvie onto his shoulder without hesitation.
"We're going down."
Are we just going to crash?
The thought barely formed—
Rho tore space open again.
"Inside!"
No hesitation.
We jumped.
We landed hard.
The floor beneath us was solid—wooden. The impact traveled up my legs as I steadied myself.
A room.
Medium-sized.
No doors.
Shelves lined one wall. Crates stacked neatly. A bed stood against the far side.
Eudora lay on it.
Unconscious.
Handcuffed to the frame.
"What are we—"
A hand clamped over my mouth.
Miss Rho stood facing a blank wall.
Her posture had changed.
Tense.
"Heiwa," Alpha said calmly. "Pick a weapon."
He pointed.
A narrow cabinet.
I moved.
The door opened with a sharp click.
My naginata rested inside.
I grabbed it.
The familiar weight settled into my grip.
Then—
Miss Rho twisted.
The room folded.
It didn't shake. Didn't break.
It folded.
Like paper crushed in a fist.
The walls bent inward. The ceiling collapsed down. Space compressed into itself—
—and snapped.
We stood outside.
The crash site stretched around us.
Smoke curled upward from broken wreckage. Flames licked at shattered metal and splintered wood. The air smelled of burning oil and scorched fabric.
Debris hung in the air.
Suspended.
Fragments of the ship—panels, glass, splinters—floated mid-fall, frozen.
Held.
By Beta.
Someone clapped.
Slowly.
"I was wondering how long you'd keep me waiting."
I turned.
A man stood behind us.
Brown hair. Glasses.
His posture was relaxed. Almost academic.
The gun in his hand broke the illusion.
Was he the one who shot us down?
No one moved.
The air tightened.
Then—
Bang.
The shot cracked through the smoke.
The bullet reached us—
—and curved.
It bent sharply to the side, caught in Beta's gravity field, spinning lazily in the air like a trapped insect.
The man exhaled.
"Ah. I see."
He lowered the gun slightly.
"Well then… may I have the lady back?"
Bang!
Another shot.
The bullet struck him clean through the skull.
"No dice," Beta said.
The man blinked.
His head… closed.
No blood.
No wound.
"Rude," he muttered.
"Ah," Beta said. "Cultist."
Everything moved at once.
Rho grabbed Alpha's gun.
Alpha's hand reached his sword—
—and something else moved with it.
Another pair of hands.
They appeared over his own, gripping the hilt.
An entity formed beside him, already drawing the blade.
Alpha stepped back, switching to a pistol without hesitation.
"Rho," Beta said. "Time."
I didn't think.
Qi surged to my fingertips.
I moved.
The strike cut clean.
The cultist split in two.
Blood hit the ground.
Then—
His body pulled back together.
Seamless.
"Orient," he said, raising his gun again.
A smile followed.
"I suppose I simply wait out the clock."
Then—
Steel flashed.
Alpha's summoned entity cut him again.
Gunfire followed.
Rho. Alpha.
Beta moved—
The air warped as gravity tightened. The cultist lifted, crushed, pulled apart into fragments that scattered like dust in orbit.
Still—
He remained.
The damage happened.
It just didn't stay.
Then—
Space opened behind me.
Lady Alvie stepped through.
Gun already in her hand.
"Hm," she murmured. "Interesting ability."
The smoke paused.
Not stopped—paused.
Curling mid-air as if reconsidering its path.
Shattered glass on the ground shifted slightly, each fragment catching the light in angles that didn't match the fire.
A spear formed.
It drove straight through the cultist's chest.
Nothing changed.
Then it clicked.
"He isn't immune," I said.
"He's transferring the damage somewhere else."
The cultist dropped his gun.
A sword came free from the rubble.
He charged.
Spears erupted around him.
From nowhere.
They struck.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Alpha's summon cut him down—
Alpha staggered.
His face drained of color.
Rho moved instantly, injecting something into his arm.
Beta wiped blood from his nose.
"Rho," Lady Alvie said calmly. "You three retreat."
No argument.
Space opened.
Alpha's summon vanished.
The sword fell.
Beta gave one final push—
Gravity collapsed inward, crushing the cultist flat—
Then he stepped back.
Gone.
Silence returned.
The wreckage crackled.
Flames shifted.
The air felt… thinner.
"Well then," Lady Alvie said, twirling the spear lightly in her hand.
"Heiwa. Let's take this cultist to court."
She wasn't fighting.
She was studying.
The fire near her bent.
Not away—but slower.
Like it was waiting for permission.
The distant creak of collapsing wood came early—just slightly ahead of the motion itself.
Glass fragments aligned subtly with her gaze.
Everything leaned toward her awareness.
The cultist moved again.
So did she.
Swords appeared—
And failed.
They stopped inches from her, trembling before falling apart, as though reality itself rejected the contact.
She spun the spear once.
Calm.
Unbothered.
The world lagged around her.
Ash hung longer than it should.
Movement delayed by a fraction.
Watching her felt like knowing the outcome before the action.
Then—
A voice.
Behind me.
"Mother, should we just kill her and go after that fool?"
I turned sharply, raising my naginata.
Two figures stood there.
Identical.
Almost.
Twins.
No—
One was female.
Or something wearing the shape of one.
"Why did she call him mother?" the thought slipped through.
Qi flowed along my blade.
The air tightened.
"A cultivator," the other twin said quietly.
A faint smile followed.
"Such luck."