The great beast of a ship—easily the largest sky vessel Tunde had ever seen—drifted lazily across the morning sky, the thrum of its engines rising and falling like the breath of a snoring giant. Its hull, crafted from polished brown wood, gleamed in the soft, cloudy sunlight as they passed through tranquil clouds. It was a merchant ship, one of many owned by the large conglomerates that traveled the airways between the capital, heartlands, central plains, and borderlands of the empire.

  Carrying exotic goods and personal cargo, the ship’s value to its owners multiplied with every journey. Occasionally, for the right price or favor, it ferried passengers across long distances. This time, the ship’s captain had jumped at the lucrative opportunity offered by Clan Acacia to transport three cultivators to the capital, promises of lumens and a single favor being more than enough to seal the deal.

  Tunde sat at the prow of the ship, as he often did, savoring the gentle breeze. He shut out the sounds of the crew’s footsteps and quiet chatter as they worked, aware of their presence but content in his solitude.

  A light presence above him caught his attention, a small voice following it. “Cloud,” it said, childlike. Tunde smiled and nodded. “Cloud,” he replied, watching as the presence scuttled toward the ship’s edge, seemingly fascinated by the passing sky.

  “Careful,” Tunde called softly, cracking one eye open to watch Zhu, the Ethralite creature, extend a hand toward the clouds as though trying to catch one.

  “The freedom suits him,” Ifa said, materializing beside Tunde, visible only to him and the insectoid creature. Zhu’s antennae waved lazily at the elder’s presence. Ifa and Zhu had formed a bond—one seemingly deeper than that between Ifa and Tunde, more like that of a father and child.

  “His tempering within the domain left him hollow,” Ifa continued, watching as Zhu gathered dark green Ethra in his palm and fired it toward a cloud, striking a stray blue bird. The bird squawked in shock before tumbling through the clouds, dead, with a clean hole in its chest.

  “And quite curious,” Tunde added, as Ifa chuckled. Zhu glanced back at them in confusion before scuttling back toward the center of the ship. The crew had initially been terrified of the creature—his odd appearance causing more than a few screams—but that changed when Zhu helped fend off a flock of flesh-eating birds trying to breach the ship’s protective barrier.

  Tier 4 birds, while no threat to Tunde, Sera, or the other cultivators aboard, had presented a perfect training opportunity for Zhu, who had eagerly fought them off with raw speed, tearing through the flock with ease. His insect wings had buzzed as he shredded the creatures, much to the delight and cheers of the crew. Since then, Zhu had become the crew’s favorite, earning scraps from the kitchen, much to the delight of the ship’s burly chef. Tunde allowed Zhu to wander the ship freely, and in return, the creature had started picking up short words, slowly expanding its vocabulary.

  “The patriarch seemed eager to send us on our way,” Ifa observed.

  “You would be too if a cultivator brought as much chaos to your city as I did in just a few days,” Tunde replied, earning a chuckle from Ifa.

  “And now we sail to the capital. Seems a bit rushed, don’t you think?” Ifa asked, as Tunde sighed, calming the Ethra flowing through his body.

  “Perhaps, but it’s the safest and fastest way to get to Talahar,” Tunde answered.

  Ifa floated slightly; his form more tangible than usual. “Indeed, but the journey is just as important as its destination,” Ifa mused.

  Tunde nodded. “Maybe we’ll find something to keep us busy along the way.” He hoped his words were true. The journey was supposed to take over two weeks, and while cultivation and meditation would occupy most of his time, Tunde dreaded the thought of how tedious life aboard the ship might become.

  A roar of laughter echoed from below deck, and Tunde glanced behind him with a smile.

  “At least one of us is enjoying herself,” Ifa remarked.

  Sera had found her place among the crew, quickly bonding with the men through shared stories of the wastelands, drinking, and rowdy songs. It was the happiest Tunde had seen her in a long time. For once, she seemed fear-free from the weight of her unusual concept and the wary looks of others. Tunde felt a sense of relief as well. For the first time in a while, he didn’t need to worry about her. It gave him the privacy he needed.

  “Has our unwanted guest left her room yet?” Ifa asked, his voice holding a hint of curiosity.

  Tunde rolled his eyes. “No, the ice princess remains as cold and distant as ever.”

  It had been a surprise for Tunde to find Zehra aboard the ship—alone, without her ever-present retainer, Akero. Ujin had appeared one last time before they left Shimmersteel, informing him that Zehra would be accompanying them to the capital. The situation had gone from tense to awkward to silent. Zehra rarely left her quarters, venturing out only in the dead of night, quietly roaming the ship before slipping back into her room.

  Tunde had considered confronting her the previous night but thought better of it. If she wanted to be alone, he would respect that. He had enough of his own problems without adding the troubles of an heiress to the mix.

  “We’re passing over the Salt Lake,” one of the crew members called out, drawing Tunde’s attention below the ship. The lake below looked like an island of white, glittering salt, stretching endlessly across the horizon. The air was sharp and acrid, the taste of salt lingering on the breeze.

  Footsteps echoed behind him, and Tunde sensed Sera’s presence as she approached. She peered over the edge; eyes fixed on the vast expanse below. “Salt?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. The white land and the motionless lake were as new to her as the concept itself.

  “For cooking,” Tunde replied.

  “Not this kind,” a familiar voice corrected. They turned to see Zehra approaching, a frown on her face. Sera’s expression darkened, but Tunde said nothing.

  “This salt in particular is a key ingredient in creating pills and elixirs. The Salt Blade Sect heavily protects the area,” Zehra explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

  “Salt Blade Sect?” Tunde asked, peering down again. Beside him, Zhu echoed the words, perched close to his shoulder. If Zehra was bothered by the presence of the Ethralite, she gave no sign, though she kept her distance from Sera. The tension between the two amused Tunde—they seemed to dislike each other without reason.

  “They serve the alchemist factions and various clans and sects. Some say they even boast their own master,” Zehra continued.

  “Then this area is well-protected,” Tunde mused.

  “The closer we get to the central plains, the more occupied the land becomes,” Zehra said. “Few places in the empire are left unclaimed. Most are held by powerful sects, schools, or clans. The only truly free areas are left to us ‘savages’ in the borderlands,” she added, a trace of bitterness in her voice.

  Tunde raised an eyebrow. “Savages?” he asked, plucking a small marble-like object from Zhu’s grip before the Ethralite could swallow it. He shot the creature a reprimanding look, and Zhu sulked away.

  “It doesn’t matter if you’re from the borderlands or the wastelands. To those in the central plains and heartlands, we’re all savages—left to rot at the edges of the empire. A pile of bodies to throw at whatever threatens the empire,” Zehra said.

  “Just like how Clan Verdant was used,” Tunde replied. Zehra hesitated, her expression faltering. “And just how Black Rock is expected to be as well,” he continued, glancing at Sera. She shot him a look.

  “You’re believing her now?” Sera asked, ignoring the glare that passed between her and Zehra.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Tunde shrugged, choosing not to acknowledge their hostility. “As bitter as it is to swallow, she’s not wrong. Resources are scarce enough in the borderlands. The best the clans and sects there can offer are bodies to throw at whatever comes their way,” he said.

  “Wastelanders, Corespawns, true beasts, unorthodox sects—the list goes on,” he added, his voice quiet as he considered the harsh reality. Zehra glanced at him, her eyes sharp.

  “You understand what that means, don’t you?” Zehra asked.

  Tunde sighed. “Yes. It means we’ll be treated as less than human, no matter where we go within the empire proper,” he said, a note of finality in his voice.

  “And that doesn’t bother you?” Zehra pressed.

  Sera snorted. “You might want to separate them before they come to blows,” Ifa said, floating beside Tunde, invisible to Zehra.

  “Sera spent most of her life in the wastelands,” Tunde explained calmly. “And I’ve been treated with nothing but scorn until I reached the realm of a Lord. We’re used to it.”

  He glanced up at the sky, catching the scent of impending rain in the air. The clouds above darkened, promising a storm.

  “It would be foolish of me to assume it’ll be any different just because we were invited to an event in the capital,” Tunde said, finishing his thought.

  “But you have—” Zehra began, only to be cut off as Tunde’s aura snapped around them, creating a grey bubble of energy. Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Lady Zehra,” Tunde said softly, noticing the crew’s curious glances at the shimmering bubble that surrounded them. “I don’t need to remind you that what you’re about to speak of is delicate. Especially here, in the presence of unfamiliar faces.”

  With that, Tunde let the aura dissipate, folding his hands within his robes. “We’ll be fine, as long as we stay out of trouble,” he added with a faint smile, earning a snort from Sera, who clearly found the notion amusing.

  "Bahataba, I sensed something ominous just now," a voice called out, interrupting them. A figure emerged from the stairwell leading to the ship’s lower decks. He wore white and yellow robes, and a string of brown beads around his neck. His bald head gleamed in the light, and his dark brown eyes blinked at the group.

  “Bahataba?” Sera repeated, uncertain, while Tunde eyed the man with suspicion. He hadn’t seen this figure during meals or around the ship, and something about him felt... off.

  "Strange," Ifa muttered, his ethereal form floating near the man, who seemed oblivious to the spirit’s presence. "Very strange."

  “Greetings,” the man said with a polite bow. “I am Brother Daiki of the Luminous Path Sect.”

  “The Luminous Path Sect?” Zehra echoed, her eyes widening.

  “You know him?” Tunde asked, noticing Ifa’s sudden silence and the suspicious look in his eyes as he floated back to Tunde’s side.

  “Yes, they’re a group of reclusive monks from the central plains. They rarely interact with the outside world,” Zehra explained as she stepped a little closer to Daiki. “Which is why it’s surprising to see one venture this far beyond their territory.”

  The monk offered a hesitant smile. “Bahataba willing, I was invited to the capital as well. My senior brother brought me to Shimmersteel before sending me on to the capital.”

  “Senior brother?” Tunde asked, intrigued.

  “The monks of the Luminous Path forsake all worldly ties, including family,” Zehra answered. “By ‘senior brother,’ he means Highlord, correct?”

  Daiki rubbed his head nervously. “Close enough,” he replied.

  Sera moved closer, studying him with an intensity that made the monk shift uncomfortably. “Keepers,” Ifa whispered softly. Tunde resisted the urge to turn toward the spirit.

  “What do you mean?” Tunde asked Ifa mentally.

  “His aura, his presence... it feels too similar to those bastards of Astradriel. But something is missing. Almost like that harsh power has been stripped away. I’ll need time to study it,” Ifa replied, sounding as if he were talking to himself.

  “What is Bahataba?” Sera asked, her tone direct, as the monk took a step back from her, clearly unsettled by her closeness.

  “Bahataba is the foundation of our sect,” Daiki explained. “It means ‘divine truth’ or ‘righteous light.’”

  “Definitely related to the Keepers,” Ifa said, urging Tunde to press further.

  Tunde nodded. “Righteous light—are you by any chance related to the Kee—” His words were cut off as a flare of white aura, tinged with gold, exploded from Daiki’s body.

  “Bahataba! You will not mention the name of the deceivers!” Daiki interrupted sharply, his tone firm. He immediately bowed in apology. “Forgive me, I did not mean to upset anyone.”

  The explosion of aura had shocked the entire upper deck. The crew members had stopped what they were doing, their eyes wide with astonishment. Daiki winced as he noticed their reactions.

  “I have upset you all. I will go meditate on my mistake,” he said quickly before turning and disappearing down the stairs, leaving the crew members murmuring amongst themselves as they cautiously gave Tunde’s group space.

  The group stood in silence for a moment, watching Daiki retreat. “No one knows when they arrived in Bloodfire,” Zehra said softly, her voice breaking the quiet. Everyone turned to her. Zhu appeared out of nowhere, standing next to Tunde, his serrated claws flexing as he stared down the stairs where Daiki had gone.

  Tunde smiled fondly as he rubbed Zhu’s head, and the Ethralite’s tense posture relaxed.

  “With the exception of the imperial clan heads and a few other ancient sects and clans, no one knows much about the Luminous Path Sect. For as long as anyone can remember, they’ve occupied the Temple of the True Light, a mountain range deep within the central plains. Even the wild creatures and people nearby avoid them,” Zehra explained.

  “Don’t be fooled by his shy demeanor,” she added. “That burst of aura was just a fraction of his strength. I once saw a monk put down a Highlord with nothing but his aura and a touch to the head.”

  Tunde glanced at Ifa, who was still staring down the stairs with deep suspicion.

  “One thing’s for sure,” Sera said with a chuckle as she headed back to the lower decks, “this trip won’t be boring.”

  She disappeared down the stairs, no doubt to join the crew in another round of drinking and stories.

  ***********************

  Tunde really hated when things became predictable. Like when Sera had claimed the trip wouldn’t be boring. He had expected light fun—a rare taste of merriment in his otherwise grim life. What he hadn’t expected was for the sky vessel to seemingly power down in the middle of what looked like a swamp. The ship had descended from the skies in an emergency before crash-landing into the thick, sweltering forest below.

  Frowning, Tunde could hear Zehra in a heated discussion with the captain, who seemed just as confused. Snapping open his Ethra sight, he scanned the area in silence, listening to the strange animal sounds echoing from deep within the forest.

  “I don’t like this one bit,” Tunde muttered as Sera approached, the two of them staring into the dense foliage where even sunlight failed to penetrate. Around the ship, the crew moved quickly, as though this wasn’t the first time they had experienced something like this.

  At the prow of the ship, Daiki sat unperturbed, meditating peacefully despite the chaos. Tunde envied his calm. Zehra stormed over from her conversation with the captain, her expression thunderous.

  “We’re stuck here for at least a night,” she announced, her voice filled with frustration.

  “That’s not acceptable,” Tunde replied, shaking his head. “We’ll be sitting ducks for whatever creatures call this place home.”

  Zehra shrugged. “The ship’s Ethra furnace is low on energy. Why a sky vessel prefers to use fire Ethra instead of wind Ethra, I have no idea,” she said, her teeth gritted in frustration.

  “And there’s no fire Ethra cultivator with them?” Tunde asked, incredulous.

  “They do have one, just an adept rank. Something I will generously report to the clan,” Zehra replied, her voice rising as she shot a glare toward the captain, who wisely kept quiet.

  “Bahataba, everything happens for a reason,” Daiki said from his spot, eyes still closed.

  “Oh?” Zehra rounded on him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Care to explain why we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Bahataba, I sense you are distressed,” Daiki replied, seemingly unfazed. Sera burst out laughing, and Tunde had to hold Zehra back from drawing her blade. Daiki didn’t even break his meditation.

  Sighing, Tunde glanced back into the murky depths of the swamp. “Brings back too many bad memories,” he muttered to himself.

  It took time to clear the surrounding area. Tunde and the others kept watch for any sudden attacks, which came sooner than expected. Living vines lashed out from the trees, targeting the crew chopping at the dense foliage.

  Tunde spotted the movement first with his Ethra sight. His naginata was already in hand, and with a swift strike, he cut through the first vine that shot toward them. A loud screech echoed from deep within the swamp, and a dozen more vines whipped out, sending the crew scrambling back to the ship in terror.

  Sera was by Tunde’s side, along with Zhu, Zehra, and Daiki. The monk now had a cautious expression on his face, a staff appearing out of nowhere in his hands. Zehra summoned a dominion of freezing cold, shattering the vines that passed through her field.

  “Sera, with me,” Tunde ordered, heading toward the darkness of the forest. His Ethra sight locked onto the source of the attack—a large tree, or what he assumed was a tree. Instead of branches, it had dozens of writhing vines, waving frantically before launching toward them again.

  Zhu let out a screech and blurred forward with astonishing speed, tearing the vines apart with his serrated claws. “Be careful!” Tunde shouted at the Ethralite, but Zhu paid him no mind, lost in the thrill of the fight. Sera followed close behind, cutting through the vines with minimal effort, her blade glowing with blood aura.

  Daiki moved past them; his body cocooned in a protective aura. Tunde couldn’t help but wonder what the monk had in mind. Even as he dodged the never-ending vines, his movements fluid and precise, he kept an eye on Daiki.

  The monk effortlessly weaved through the vines, his staff twirling in his hands as he drew closer to the tree. “Cease and rest, Bahataba!” Daiki called out, his staff glowing white before he slammed it into the base of the tree.

  The tree gave a final, ear-piercing shriek before the vines fell limp, drying up rapidly. The tree itself withered before their eyes. Daiki floated gracefully in the air, his hands clasped together as he bowed toward the tree. “Return to nature in peace, Bahataba,” he whispered.

  Zehra approached, staring at the monk in disbelief. “I told you—strange people, those monks,” she muttered, still trying to process what had just happened.

  An uneasy feeling settled within Tunde. Something about Daiki’s power, his strange ability to pacify the tree, left a lingering sense of discomfort.

  “Like I said, one thing’s for sure,” Sera said with a chuckle, wiping her blade clean, “this trip won’t be boring.”

  Tunde, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that this swamp held darker secrets.