English Harbour was total and utter chaos.

For a brief moment, Isaac stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat as his senses struggled to process the scene before him. The bustling port, once alive with the sounds of commerce and laughter, was now a cacophony of screams and destruction. Stalls and crates lay shattered across the cobblestones, their contents strewn in every direction. Monsters—grotesque, misshapen things that seemed pulled from a nightmare—rampaged through the harbor, their decaying limbs striking out at anything in their path. A monstrous claw swept through a vendor's cart, splintering it into a shower of debris, while another creature tore through a group of sailors attempting to flee, their terrified cries piercing the air.

Isaac's heart pounded. When Kai had told him that Bayu was in trouble and they had to leave Falmouth immediately to get to English Harbour, he had imagined danger—he always did. But this? He could never have predicted this kind of horror.

From the horizon, Isaac's gaze locked onto a ship. Its silhouette wavered in the moonlight, its sails barely visible through the thick smoke that now clouded the air. Something inside him stirred, an unshakable certainty that drove him to grab Kai's sleeve.

"Kai, I'm heading to the ship."

Kai turned, alarmed. "What? Why—"

"I just know it. Bayu's on that ship, and he's in danger."

Isaac's fingers closed around the gadget in his pocket—the pearl blaster (he had been mulling over a name for it for a while and thought this was fitting). He pulled it out and pressed it into Kai's palm.

Kai stared at it, bewildered. "Why are you giving this to me? You're going to need it if you're going down there!"

"Don't worry about me, Kai." Isaac gave him a fleeting smile. "I've still got a couple of smoke bombs in my arsenal. But that pearl blaster—that's what's going to stop all of this."

A scream cut through the air, sending shivers down Isaac's spine. He shook his head. Now wasn't the time for explanations. "YOU CAN STOP THIS, KAI!" Isaac shouted, then turned and sprinted toward the ship without looking back.

As he approached the ship, Isaac's eyes locked onto a wiry man with pockmarked hands, untying the ropes that anchored the vessel to the dock. He was one of Mildred's attendants, and his scowl deepened as Isaac approached.

"What do you think you're doing?" the man growled.

Isaac's fingers brushed the smooth surface of a smoke bomb in his pocket, drawing a strange comfort from its weight. His heart hammered in his chest, but he met the man's glare with steady defiance.

The man raised an eyebrow, his expression one of condescension. "It would serve you well to mind your business and get off this ship."

Ignoring him, Isaac pushed past, his boots clattering against the wooden planks. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to hurry.

The sight that greeted him on the ship's deck was worse than he had imagined.

Bayu lay sprawled on the wooden floor, motionless, his eyes closed. Maleko stood near the edge of the deck, his bow dangling uselessly by his side as if he'd lost the will to fight. In the center of it all was Mildred, her lips curled into a cruel grin as she turned to Isaac.

"Oh, another one of the Aetherwing Brigade," she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. She stretched her hands, cracking her fingers lazily, as if this were all a game. "I'll give you boys a chance. Let us leave, and we won't harm you."

"YOU CAN'T!" Maleko shouted, his voice raw with desperation. He turned to Isaac, his eyes wide and pleading. "They're the ones who've been unleashing these monsters all over Antigua! They're the reason the island is in ruins! We can't let them leave!"

Isaac dropped to his knees beside Bayu's crumpled form. Seeing Bayu like this—it was wrong. Bayu, whose magic erupted in blazing torrents, swirling with precision and power, as if the elements themselves obeyed his will. Bayu, who cast wards with effortless grace, weaving protection as naturally as breathing. Bayu, his prince.

"What have you done to him?" Isaac's voice trembled with barely restrained emotion. His fingers hovered over Bayu's chest, feeling for the faint rise and fall that told him his friend was still alive.

Mildred's eyes glinted with malice as she raised one hand, dark magic swirling ominously around her fingers. "Last chance, Aetherwing. This was supposed to be a clean getaway."

Maleko lunged at her, abandoning his bow and going straight for her throat. But Mildred was faster. With a flick of her wrist, she sent him hurtling backward. He hit the water with a clean splash.

Isaac scrambled to the edge of the ship, his heart racing as he peered overboard.

Maleko's head broke the surface, and he gasped for air. "Please, I can swim—don't worry about me. But you have to do something. Please."

Isaac watched as Maleko began swimming back toward the shore, his strokes steady despite the chaos around them.

"Maleko!" Isaac shouted, throwing the young man's quiver of arrows after him. "Protect the island!"

Turning back to the ship, Isaac gently laid Bayu down on the deck. His eyes flicked to the four attendants stationed around Mildred, their expressions cold and unreadable. None of them seemed to be wielding magic, but Mildred's power was more than enough to contend with.

Isaac straightened, his gaze locking on Mildred. The long black skirts, the calculating malice in her eyes—he was so sick of it. Sick of the bloodshed, the manipulation, the destruction. Kai, Tomoya, Maleko—they were all fighting for their lives back on the island, and here she was, trying to flee.

"COME AT ME, MILDRED," Isaac shouted, his voice cutting through the roar of the waves.

Mildred grinned, her amusement giving way to something far more dangerous. She raised her hands, and the air around her darkened as tendrils of swirling black magic coiled and twisted like living shadows. The magic lifted her from the ground, her form rising gracefully into the air. The shadows writhed around her like serpents, growing and lashing out as if alive.

With a flick of her wrist, she hurled a sphere of black energy toward Isaac. It roared through the air like a cannonball, leaving a trail of burning darkness in its wake.

Isaac dodged, the magic searing the air inches from his head. He sprinted along the edge of the ship, his eyes darting toward the ropes that still held the ship anchored.

Another burst of magic came hurtling toward him. This one nicked the toe of his boot, sending a sharp jolt up his leg, but Isaac grit his teeth and kept moving. He reached the ropes, his fingers working quickly to untie them even as Mildred's next attack surged toward him.

Isaac's fingers finally closed around the coarse, heavy rope. Mildred's next attack sizzled past him, grazing his uniform and searing his skin with a sharp, stinging heat. He clenched his jaw against the pain, forcing himself to roll out of the line of fire. The rope wrapped tightly around his hands, a lifeline and a weapon, while he fumbled in his pocket for the smoke bomb.

His heart thudded like a drum. Here goes nothing.

The small metallic sphere left his fingers and arced through the air. The moment it shattered against the wooden deck, a thick, swirling plume of smoke erupted, curling like living shadows around the ship. Isaac had designed these bombs to be more than mere cover. The mist carried a specially engineered compound—an experimental mixture that could render anyone within its embrace into a deep, groggy sleep.

The effect was immediate. One by one, the attendants collapsed, slumping onto the wooden deck like puppets. Mildred was the last to succumb. Her shadowy serpents hissed and twisted in the air before vanishing like ink spilling into water. Her knees buckled, but with a last surge of defiance, she stumbled forward, clutching Isaac's shirt.

Her wild eyes, rimmed with exhaustion and anger, met his. "What... what have you done to me?" Her voice was a rasp, a desperate croak that seemed to claw its way from her throat.

Isaac met her gaze with a smirk, cool and determined despite the hammering of his pulse. He stretched the rope taut in his hands. "Sleep tight, Mildred. I think you've done enough for one night."

She sagged against him as her strength failed, and he eased her to the deck, tying the thick rope around her arms and legs with quick, practiced movements. He worked his way through the rest of her attendants, binding them securely before double-checking his knots. If his calculations were right—and Isaac prided himself on getting things right—they'd remain unconscious for at least three days.

Finally, he turned to Bayu. He lay sprawled on the ship's deck, his face pale but still, mercifully, breathing. Isaac crouched beside him and carefully lifted him. The weight was nothing compared to the dread that coiled in Isaac's chest. He carried Bayu down the gangplank, laying him gently on the slightly damp grass near the port.

The chaos beyond the harbor raged on. From the corner of his eye, Isaac could see the monsters still rampaging through the town, their grotesque shapes blotting out the flickering lanterns. Screams pierced the air, and the clash of weapons echoed in the distance. But Bayu couldn't go back into that—not like this. Isaac crouched beside him, brushing a hand over Bayu's cheek. His fingers lingered there for a moment.

A loud thud reverberated through the ship behind him.

Isaac froze, every nerve on edge. His mind raced. He had tied up all the attendants. The smoke bomb should have rendered everyone on the ship unconscious.

He reached into his pocket instinctively but found it empty. No more smoke bombs. His gadgets were either spent or unsuitable for close combat. Isaac inhaled deeply, steeling himself. He would just have to deal with the attendant the old-fashioned way.

He turned toward the ship, his breath caught in his throat.

Standing tall on the hull was a figure that seemed to absorb the dim moonlight, cloaking him in an eerie glow. He wore thick, flowing blue robes that billowed slightly in the evening breeze, and his feet were clad in simple black slippers that barely made a sound on the wooden deck. The man's hair was a shocking white, like frost on a winter morning, cascading around his shoulders. But it was his eyes—flat, glassy, and utterly devoid of color—that sent a chill through Isaac's spine. They were empty pools, reflecting nothing, not even the faint flicker of lanterns on the shore.

The man smiled, revealing sharp, gleaming fangs, and with a slow, deliberate movement, extended his hands. His fingers warped and twisted before Isaac's eyes, elongating into grotesque claws that gleamed like obsidian in the moonlight.

"So," the man called, his voice smooth and chilling, like silk over a blade. "You must be Tomoya's mate."