The skiff was set aloft, and we began our descent.

  I stared up at the deck, and unlike the Galeheart, where the crew had cast wayward, hopeless glances my way, the crew aboard the Skycutter seemed almost… jovial. A few leaned over the rail to watch us go, grinning. Someone called out a half-hearted cheer. Someone else looked downright jealous.

  Dragus stood with his arms crossed, the pink frilly glove stretched awkwardly over his large hand. His middle finger was very clearly extended. “Try not to get yourselves killed,” he yelled. “I don’t want to have to save you.”

  What did he mean by that?

  Slowly the Skycutter shrank above us, the masts and sails reduced to dark shapes against the brightening morning. The sound of the deck faded too: rope creaks, and shouted orders faded to nothing.

  Then we passed through the thin layer of mist, and the world turned soft and wrong. In the mist, nothing else existed. Not the Skycutter above, not the land below. Thick, and swallowing, and so close I felt like it was breathing on me as if it were alive. The skiff rocked gently beneath us, the rope humming with tension as it lowered. I stared into the darker, thicker folds of fog, and I swore I saw shadows moving out there in the vast openness.

  “Hey!” Finn said, grabbing my arm.

  I jumped, rocking the skiff.

  “Knock it off,” Vexa snapped. “Do you want to tip over?”

  Finn blew a raspberry. “You worry too much.” He turned back to me, eyes bright with that restless energy that never seemed to leave him. “Hey, you should check the gear out. What do they do?”

  Curious, I held the footwear out in front of me. They looked impossibly clean against the grime of the skiff; white leather, red swoop, and strange stitching.

  “What do I do?” I asked.

  “Examine them,” Vexa and Finn replied at the same time.

  I shrugged and concentrated. A familiar pressure gathered behind my eyes, like reaching for a thought just out of grasp. Then a box flashed before my vision:

  Item: Air Jordan 1

  Durability: 20

  Defense: 4

  Special Ability:

  Hang Time — Increased jump capacity by 40 inches.

  Just Do It — Fall damage negated if you land on your feet.

  “What in the clouds does that mean?” I asked, reading it aloud to them, word for word.

  Finn rubbed his hands together. “Oh, those look fun. Mind if I—”

  “Those are for him,” Vexa replied. Then her mouth curled into something sly. “But let’s make a bet. If it’s okay with you Torren, let’s let Finn test them out for you. I bet you half the XP Cores we make on the island that you won’t jump from the skiff.”

  Before I could even decide whether that was a joke, Finn had snatched the shoes, shoved them onto his feet, and shoved his own boots into a corner of the skiff. The Nikes fit him awkwardly; they were too small, but that didn’t slow him down.

  “It’s a bet,” he said simply, and launched himself over the side.

  I lurched forward to catch him, but he was already gone, swallowed by the mist.

  “Whohoooooo!” echoed from somewhere far below.

  I breathed out slowly, panic rising in my chest. Had I just watched someone commit suicide?

  Noticing my distress, Vexa said, “I wouldn’t worry about it. The lad is a crazy one though; I didn’t think he would really do it.”

  “He’s dead,” I said. “Dead!”

  “Nah,” Vexa replied, calm as ever. “That one’s too stubborn for that. You’ll see.” She nodded toward the thinning fog ahead. “Just sit back and relax…” She suddenly flashed a seductive gaze at me, and she put a hand on my thigh. I could feel the heat of it radiate through my pants. “You know, now that we’re alone… we’ve some time to kill.”

  I swallowed hard and considered what would happen if I jumped off the skiff myself.

  Vexa laughed, drawing back. “Oh, relax, you’re too serious. I’m just teasing you. Look, we’re out of the mist now. We—”

  She trailed off.

  I didn’t blame her.

  It was beautiful beyond imagination.

  Massive spiraling pillars of glass rose from the ground like backwards icicles, twisting toward the sky in slow, elegant corkscrews. The wind caught inside them and made them sing; soft humming chords that shifted as gusts passed through. Light refracted through the glass, scattering into ribbons of color that slid across the sand and our skiff in moving bands of vibrance, so vivid they looked like light from an Echo Core spilled out.

  A vision flashed before my eyes:

  Windglass Reefs

  The skiff floated near one tower, close enough that I could see hairline fractures webbing beneath its surface, and Vexa reached out.

  “Hey,” I said as the skiff tipped slightly under her movement, but she ignored me.

  Her fingertips brushed the glass.

  Where she touched it, the pillar seemed to drink the heat from her skin. Red flares splintered out like bolts of electricity running the entire length of the spire. The humming deepened into something soothing, almost melodic, and then—crack! A tiny fracture appeared and spread, thin as a thread.

  Vexa pulled her hand back.

  Now that we were fully out of the mist, I could see the reef stretched for miles, an entire plain of windglass pillars rising and twisting, separated by arid ground and smaller crystal clusters that glittered in the sun. Mist pooled in low pockets between spires like caught water.

  I had never seen anything like it in my life.

  I imagined I never would again.

  I breathed it in: dry air, salt, and the clean bite of the wind—

  And then something ruined the moment. More like… someone.

  “Hey guys!” Finn called from below, standing on a small floating shelf of rock wedged between two spires like a stepping-stone. “Fucking gorgeous, ain’t it?” He waved both arms as if he owned the place.

  Then he leaped from the tiny island, plummeting again toward the ground below.

  Why had I ever worried? I knew in my heart that nothing was going to kill that man.

  “You get used to it,” Vexa said. “The spectacle of it all.”

  “Have you?” I asked.

  She lifted a hand to her mouth, leaned close, and whispered, “Nah, but it’s something people like to say to others when they are nervous.” Then she leaned back again, eyes flicking across the spires. “Still. Quite the spectacle… too bad we’re here to erase it.”

  I considered that. She was right. As beautiful as the scenery was, it was unnatural. Something was wrong here—wrong in the same way the islands always felt wrong. Like the world had been bent into a shape it didn’t belong.

  ***

  The skiff landed… almost. It never quite touched the ground, hovering a hand-span above it while the wind tugged at the rope. Vexa jumped out first, boots hitting arid sand and throwing up a dust plume that sparkled faintly with tiny crystal grains.

  I followed. The heat hit immediately: dry, choking, and unlike anything I’d felt in Skyreach’s cold heights. The air smelled of sun-baked stone and faintly of electricity. Every breath tasted dusty.

  “You get used to it,” Vexa said, as if she had read my thoughts. “Absolutely horrid for my hair, though.” She scoffed and ran fingers through her curls.

  “Ain’t nobody cares about your hair except you,” Finn said, strolling up. He held the Nikes in his hands and was completely barefoot against the hot sand.

  I grimaced at the sight.

  “Now some of your other bits,” he continued, “people care about those a lot!”

  “Do I need to break your skull?” Vexa asked, making a fist.

  Finn winked at me.

  Vexa stared daggers at me as if I had said it.

  They were so nonchalant that it felt unreal.

  Finn handed me back the gear. “Here,” he said. “They don’t fit me, anyway.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  I took them and slipped them onto my feet, then put my ragged-by-comparison shoes into the skiff. The Nikes felt strange: soft, snug, and supportive in a way that made my feet feel… cared for. I had never known that feeling before. The leather hugged my heels. The soles seemed to grip the sand without sinking.

  Finn whistled. “Looks good on ya’.”

  I tested them, bouncing from side to side.

  “Try jumping,” Finn suggested.

  “Hmm,” I murmured. The text-box had said forty inches. That was… a lot.

  I bent my knees and jumped with all my might.

  I rocketed into the air.

  Far higher than I thought possible.

  A scream ripped out of me as gravity grabbed hold and yanked me down.

  “Don’t land on your head!” Finn yelled from the safety of the ground.

  I straightened my legs and hit the sand.

  Nothing.

  No jolt. No pain. No twisting ankle. It was as if I’d simply stepped off a step.

  I stared at my feet, then at Finn and Vexa. “These are… these are…”

  “Cool, right?” Finn finished my sentence for me.

  I nodded, breath coming fast.

  Something reckless rose in me. A similar impulse that Finn had shared. Nearby, the land dropped away into an embankment. Below, small crystal clusters grew close to the larger pillars, and shard-like growths that glittered in the sun.

  “They’re like weeds,” Vexa said.

  I gave her a curious glance.

  “Invasive plants that grow near trees,” she explained. “Much smaller.”

  I nodded again, eyes still on the drop.

  “What are you going to do?” Vexa asked. “Jump down.”

  I shrugged. “May as well. What are we even looking for?”

  “To kill the boss,” Finn said.

  “And how do we find it?” I asked.

  “It’s different on each island,” Vexa said. “Sometimes you can just kill its minions until it comes out . Other times there will be those we can help—”

  “Those we can help?”

  “Yeah,” Vexa said. “We call them locals.”

  “So we help them, clear the island, and then… they disappear?”

  Vexa nodded once.

  “Why would they want that?”

  “It’s not about what they want,” Vexa said. Her voice sharpened, and for a moment the mask slipped. “It’s about what is right. It’s about what is true. You can see it: this place is wrong. If we are ever to leave the sky, this is what we must do.”

  I accepted her words, even if they left an uneasy taste in my mouth.

  Finn grumbled. “Are you gonna jump down or what? I’m getting antsy. I say we find some mobs and just start slaying—”

  With no hesitation, I ran to the edge and jumped.

  Wind ripped through my hair. My stomach floated. For a heartbeat, I laughed. It was pure and startled, like a child.

  Then I landed, completely unharmed… and I couldn’t move. My legs were stuck fast. Something silvery clung to my calves.

  No, not threads.

  Web.

  “Torren, look out!” Vexa screamed.

  I turned.

  A box flared into my vision:

  Name: Windglass Skitter

  Species: Spider

  Level: 1

  Description: Scampering about the Windglass Reefs, these tiny spiderlings feast on fragments of the spires, growing more crystalline themselves. Long since free of a venomous bite, their fangs are special as they bloodlet their victims with wounds that do not heal normally.

  As if responding to the System’s introduction, the skitter, a few feet long but only as tall as my heels, snapped forward. Its crystal-sheened legs clicked on the sand. Sharp teeth tore through my pants and into my skin.

  I sucked in a breath as it bit three more times, backing away on the third.

  “Fuck!” I yelled.

  I saw Finn scrambling down the slope toward me, moving fast. “Fight back!” he shouted.

  Right.

  I had Echo Cores. A means to fight back.

  I reached inward, remembering the feeling of training with Raela; the way power waited beneath the skin. The way it answered when you grabbed it like a rope. It was there. I could feel it. I just had to take hold.

  The skitter lunged again.

  My left hand became a claw, scaled and deadly, and I clashed with the spider’s mandibles. Sparks flitted out where crystal met hardened claw, and I managed to fling it away.

  I heard another skitter behind me; light clicks, too quick.

  It bounced on the web that still held my legs. I couldn’t turn in time. I braced for its bite to pierce me—

  Slam!

  The web snapped free.

  I twisted around to find Vexa behind me. Beneath her boots were crushed crystals stained with bluish blood and gore. Despite their glittering carapace, the creatures had soft, gooey insides. Some of that slime had splattered her face. She wiped it away and stared at her fingers in disgust.

  “Why did it have to be spiders?” she muttered.

  Three more skitters attacked.

  I moved fast, fueled by panic. I caught one midair with my claw, pinned it against a rock, and slashed down. It broke apart like brittle glass. XP Cores rolled free and glimmered in the sand.

  Vexa tapped another skitter with one finger. A hairline crack appeared in its shell, and then an invisible force hammered it into the ground. It exploded, guts and crystal shards spraying across the dirt.

  The third skitter hesitated, eight eyes reflecting us both.

  It didn’t see what was behind.

  Finn stepped forward with a jagged red blade; blood drawn and hardened from his own body. It looked wrong: serrated, sharp, and pulsating. He drove it through the back of the spider’s carapace like chopping wet paper.

  XP Cores seemed to appear out of nowhere as the corpse stuck on Finn’s blade. He flicked it off and then slung it onto his shoulder.

  “Well then,” Finn said, breathing hard but grinning, “looks like we’re killing our way to the boss after all.”

  Then came a sound; it was somewhere between a chatter and a roar.

  We turned.

  Not a spider this time.

  Something else entirely.

  Name: Windglass Pincher

  Species: Crab

  Level: 3

  Description: Bigger and badder cousin to the Windglass Snipper, the Windglass Pincher has two enormous claws capable of snapping crystals in half, which it then feasts upon, taking the hardened properties for itself.

  The crab’s shell glittered with embedded shards, its claws enormous and thick, snapping with a heavy clack that made my stomach clench.

  “Is that the boss?” I asked.

  Finn scoffed. “Hardly. This thing is puny.”

  “Don’t lie to him,” Vexa said, voice flat and serious. “Don’t get caught in those pincers or you will die.”

  Finn’s grin faded. He nodded once and raised his blood sword in a stance that looked practiced; well-versed in a way I hadn’t expected from him.

  “I wonder if I can—” With a thought, both my hands became Claws of the Cockatrice. Scales spread up my wrists, hardening my skin. Power thrummed in my forearms. I doubted I could match those pincers outright. I’d need agility. Precision. And a weak point with which to slash.

  The crab’s beady black eyes reflected nothing but void.

  “Hey, Torren,” Finn said. “Do you trust me?”

  “I… What?”

  “He has a plan,” Vexa said, rolling her eyes. “He is foolhardy, but he comes up with some surprisingly good plans. Just listen to him.”

  “Fine,” I relented.

  Finn smiled. “Alright. Vexa, take the legs out from under it—the front ones. Make it kiss the dirt.”

  Vexa nodded.

  “Torren, head straight in and attack the squishy head.”

  “What about the claws?” I asked.

  Finn’s smile turned sharp. “Don’t worry about them. Just run straight.”

  I stared at the giant crab, its claws snapping, sand shifting under its weight.

  “Fine,” I replied.

  “On you, Vexa,” Finn said.

  Vexa snapped into motion. She skidded across the sand as if she belonged there, light and fast. The crab lunged, trying to snap her in half. She met the claw midway and tapped it with one finger. As if struck by an oversized mallet, the claw jerked back. For a second, I could’ve sworn I saw surprise in the crab’s emotionless eyes.

  Vexa ducked low and slid under.

  Snap.

  One by one.

  Snap.

  She broke the four front legs.

  Snap.

  The crab pitched forward.

  Snap.

  And kissed the sand.

  “Your turn, Torren,” Finn shouted. “Don’t stop. Run straight.”

  My heart hammered. Was this another trick? Was I being played as bait yet again?

  I shoved the thought away. There was no time for doubt. I had to trust, and I found I did.

  I ran forward. My scales caught the sunlight. The crab tried to rise on broken legs, wobbling, furious.

  It attacked.

  I didn’t slow. I didn’t hesitate.

  A clash like metal on metal rang out as one massive claw snapped down, and a sickeningly red shield of blood surged up in front to protect me.

  Finn caught the claw.

  Another clash, another shield, caught the second pincer as well. Finn braced, muscles tight, forcing the crab’s arms apart with sheer will and blood-forged strength.

  “Kill it!” he bellowed, stumbling back.

  I jumped.

  The Nikes launched me forward as if I were thrown by the wind itself.

  My claws sank into the crab’s face.

  It thrashed and bled. I drove deeper, gore soaking my arms, the shell resisting at first. It was hard… and then suddenly soft.

  I wrenched my hand free, gray matter clinging to my claws like wet rope.

  The crab’s eyes fell first. Then the rest of its body sagged, collapsing with a heavy thump that shook the sand.

  I stumbled backward as it toppled toward me. It would have crushed me if Vexa hadn’t grabbed my collar and flung me out of the way.

  A wayward claw landed on her shoulder with a jolt. She grunted but remained upright, her feet buried in the sand up to her knees.

  I hit the ground, rolling. When I stared up, I saw Vexa holding the claw off herself with strained arms, but she seemed relatively unharmed. She shoved it aside, pulled herself free of the sand, and walked toward me.

  Covered in bluish blood, she offered a hand. I reached for her, then noticed my hands were still claws. I froze.

  She pulled away.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “Whoo hoo!” Finn crowed, fist in the air. “Looks like we’re eatin’ good tonight.”

  “Eat?” I asked, my stomach suddenly churning.

  “He’s kidding,” Vexa replied. Then she glanced at Finn, and her face twisted with disgust. “Or maybe he isn’t.”

  “Oh, come on,” Finn said. “Be more adventurous, will ya’? Don’t you want to know what it tastes like?”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” a voice said, so low it was almost a whisper, or the voice of a timid child. “It’s quite poisonous.”

  We turned, searching for the source.

  At first, I saw nothing. Then I noticed a movement near the sand. Something hovered just above it. A tiny creature with a jelly-like body, translucent and softly glowing, dotted with small crystal growths like freckles. It floated up my legs, around my pants, up my arm, and settled firmly on my shoulder. It weighed almost nothing. It smelled faintly of rain.

  It looked at us with dark, curious eyes and said, “I Chimelet. You adventurers. I leader of Breeblets. We need help.”