"Dorothea, wake up."

Dorothea rubbed her eyes and focused on Herrera before looking down at Turner, who lay beside her. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful. The ship was canted at an odd angle, as it continued to rick in the dragon's grip.

"He hasn't stirred. I would have woken you if he had."

"Are we landing?"

"It was our hope you could tell us. It is rather important."

"Why?"

"Our saving grace appears to be falling apart."

Dorothea got to her feet and peered out one of the portholes. There was just enough moonlight to see where the dragon had lost a claw. The stump that remained bore a gaping lesion that was haemorrhaging sand. She looked up and spotted hundreds of holes mottling the dragon's dark pink wings, pinpricks of moonlight shining through them as if the membranes had been drizzled with acid that was slowly eating away at them. Hairline fractures along its scales were forming tiny new appendages.

Looking at it, Dorothea was reminded of what Kritzinger had said earlier, that constructs like the dragon were only temporary, unlike true golem. Perhaps the spirit animating their flight was reaching the limit of its lifespan.

"It might be of some comfort to know when we might land."

"And if you aren't sure," added Gorso from the helm, "maybe you could ask it to land? You know, before it crashes?"

"We're over the ocean," Angeline pointed out. "There wasn't time to weld on the Tartaruga's new panelling, remember? We'll sink faster than a sack of bricks if we land in water."

"Well, there's a mountain up ahead. Maybe we can land there and do some repairs."

Sure enough, the moon was squatting behind a cold grey mountain that soared at least a thousand feet above the deep blue sea. Huge sprays of foam rhythmically shot into the air, their white froth luminescent in the pale light.

"Where exactly do you think that's a good idea?" asked Angeline. "The face of it is nothing but sheer stone."

"I spy a crack in it!" Collin cried.

"A crack?" Herrera and Gorso said in unison. "Where?"

"Midway down the mountain, dead centre. You see?"

The dragon approached the peak and entered the dark depths of one of several fissures that split the face of it, descending willingly into its long and cramped embrace. As they dropped, the walls narrowed. When the tips of the dragon's wings grazed the granite on either side, Dorothea's breath grew short and her chest tight. Her hand reached for the absent pouch and she felt her heart sink.

Just as it seemed like they were about to be lodged irrevocably in an impasse, the walls opened into a profound excavation carved out of the heart of the crag. The ceiling was dome-shaped, perfectly curved, with great shafts of moonlight falling through several jagged openings overhead. The fissures looked like silver bolts of lightning caught in the stone, positioned in such a way that the sun and moon could find their way through them no matter the time, day or night. The ceiling was embedded with countless crystals, each reflecting a celestial lustre, countless as the stars in the night sky.

As they continued their descent, everyone gasped. Below them lay a city that rivalled any other in size and beauty. It spread like a dense weave over a rounded plane some hundred miles far and wide, an expanse of expertly fashioned stone, steel, and glass that could comfortably house hundreds of thousands of people. Roads and canals plaited the hidden metropolis, its outer rim traced by a channel of water funnelled from a distant reservoir fed by a large waterfall.

"There you have it, my friends" said Herrera, "without doubt, the Golem City really does exist."

"A lot larger than I imagined," Collin said. "Such a grand stage. I wonder what life would have been like here, had people come to stay."

"The architecture is impressive, if a little crude," Angeline commented. "Seems to have weathered the centuries far better than I expected..."

"It make me sad," said Bastion.

Collin snorted. "How can something this incredible possibly make you sad, Bastion?"

"Imagine the effort its founder spent designing all this, making the golem to build it, the years it must have taken to finish it, only for it to never be used."

"The waste of it is indeed tragic," Gorso said, sharing in Bastion's sympathy. "Its maker was as much a mystery as he was selfless. So few records exist from the time, we don't even know his name-"

"It was Corrin," Dorothea said. "Corrin Dovetail."

There was a moment of silence in the airship, as the revelation sank in with everyone.

"You're related to the savior of Davishna?" Angeline asked.

"That certainly would explain a few things," said Collin.

"How do you know this?" Gorso asked.

Dorothea looked at Turner. The dumbfounded look on his face was both expected and amusing. "I was told, when I was being held prisoner back in the fortress. I was-"

The ship pitched abruptly. The dragon's wings were too compromised to keep the wind beneath them any longer. Its shelled posterior was disintegrating, loose fragments raining off its back like coloured confetti at a parade.

"Almost forgot our flight was falling to pieces," Angeline said.

"We're going down!" shouted Gorso.

"Hang on!" Herrera yelled, holding onto Dorothea and the unconscious Turner to keep them from being thrown about like flakes in a snow globe.

The dragon clipped a building and left a wing behind as it skidded down one of the city's thoroughfares. It struggled to hold the Tartaruga aloft, its stomach bearing the brunt of the skid down the open road, leaving broken pieces of itself in its wake, before lurching to a stop.

Herrera opened the hatch and took a quick look around outside. He motioned for the team to follow. Armed, they filed out one by one, followed by Dorothea, Bastion electing to take his twin pistols over a machine gun.

The Tartaruga rested in the crushed remnants of the dragon's claw. Everyone watched as the dragon's fractured skin crumbled like a hollow eggshell until all that remained was a large pile of sand. Even the shells that had formed its scales disintegrated into grains.

Dorothea sifted through it, letting the grains flow between her fingers. Her fingers brushed against something solid: her drawstring pouch. With trembling fingers, she pulled on the drawstring and exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw the parchment tucked safely inside. She closed it securely and looped it around her neck, feeling heartened by the feel of the familiar soft leather resting against her chest.

"We'll scout out the surrounding area and make sure it's safe," Herrera said. "If we're lucky, maybe find some supplies."

"You all go on ahead," Angeline said. "I'll stay here and see what I can do about getting the ship fit for travel again."

"Are you sure?" Herrera asked. "I'm sure it can wait."

"You say that now, but just wait until you run into something nasty and need to make a getway, only to find the only working vehicle in the city is about as useful as the world's biggest paperweight. Trust me, you want me to fix this."

"I can not argue with this logic. Just launch a flare if anything should happen," Herrera advised. "The same goes for the rest of you. Keep your eyes open and your guns at the ready. If you see anything of concern, don't keep it to yourselves. Let the rest of us know."

"What about Turner?" Dorothea asked.

"Angeline will take good care of him."

"You'd better, Angeline," Gorso jested, "cause I can tell when someone has a spanner dropped on their head."

"Why? Did it happen often to you as a child, cause I could somehow believe that."

Herrera restrained Gorso by the arm. "All right, Mr Gorso, let's get a move on."

They set off along the eerily empty avenue, their footfalls echoing off the buildings on either side. Every bit of available space was occupied by some edifice, few of which stood more than two stories high. The amount of light provided by the starry sky was sufficient to make their way, though all the buildings were dark and shrouded in shadow. There were no road signs or numbers on the buildings. What lay within was anyone's guess. For the time being, the party stuck to the streets.

Thought had been richly invested in the buildings' ancient ornate designs. No edifice stood rigidly upright; instead, they arched, favouring curves over straight lines. Mouldings boasted a repertoire of natural motifs – every plant and animal imaginable – yet it felt dead, lifeless, the air stagnant. There was no sound, no wind. It was like walking through an elaborate set, something make-believe.

Dorothea's head snapped to her right as movement caught her eye. She peered into a long dark alleyway, studying the shadows. Nothing. Yet, she was certain she heard the faint echo of hasty footsteps.

"So this is the Golem City?" Gorso said, looking around. "Feels a bit peculiar, doesn't it?"

"Peculiar is right," Collin said, pointing out their surroundings. "Look at these buildings. They don't look to be made of anything special – bricks, stone, and some mortar thrown in – but they are immaculate. Angeline was right to think this place would be falling apart. An ordinary city would have, after four or five hundred years.  If nobody's living here, such long-term neglect would've loosened a tile or two."

There was a flash of movement that melted into the shadows.

"Mr Herrera..." Dorothea whispered.

"I know," he acknowledged. "It's been following us since we landed."

"What do you think it wants?"

"Your guess would be as good as mine. Only one real way to find out." Herrera led them into a central sandstone plaza up ahead, composed of arcaded porches supported by square granite pillars. A fanciful brass-work fountain of jungle beasts stood at its centre. The moonlight flooded the entire square. They formed a circle, guns at the ready.

"We know you're out there," Herrera said, addressing the shadows. "Whoever you are, we mean you no harm. But if you treat us like enemies, we will treat you just the same. I ask that you reveal yourselves or leave us be."

There was nothing but silence. Dorothea opened her mouth to speak but Herrera signalled her to remain silent. After a moment, a soft, subtle tap on the stone pavement could be heard. They waited anxiously, until a shape no more than two feet tall emerged from the darkness. Its body was moulded of dried clay, its thick torso and stocky limbs etched with curled lines similar to those Dorothea had seen on the fortress golem. Its head was mounded somewhat clumsily on its shoulders, with a face comprising two small holes and a crevice shaped like an inverted V.

"What is that?"

"It's a golem," Dorothea whispered.

"Emet!"

"A golem that speaks."

"I have never heard of such a thing."

"Do you think it understands what we're saying?"

Dorothea approached the diminutive figure that stood with balled-up hands at its sides. She knelt down in front of it, oddly unafraid. It tilted back slightly on its legs to meet her gaze. "My name is Dorothea Dovetail," she said. "These are my friends. I promise we don't mean you any harm."

"Emet."

"Where do you live? Is there a safe place here where we can stay?"

The small golem turned and began to walk away. It paused and looked back, as if expecting them to follow. It led them to a palace at the far end of the plaza. High, sloping pilasters extended from the two-story façade of an attractive creamy-brown stone framing arched windows. It had a dramatically curved roof, with multi-tiered, upswept gables resembling a fancy hat. It was delightfully quirky.

Gorso fell back alongside Herrera, who was at the rear.

"I don't like this. We're following a golem to a destination we can only hope isn't some gruesome and horrible death. Remember, we've seen what they're capable of."

"Only when threatened," Herrera reminded him. "Better we move with a guide than to do so blindly. Besides, until the Tartaruga is repaired, we're not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Don't worry so much, Gorso," Bastion said, tipping his hat up. "If it were to come to a scrap, I think we could take it—"

The entire city abruptly lit up, amber flames sparking within. The shadows fell away to reveal a multitude of figures that had been hidden in the night-time gloom that had enshrouded the city. The band halted, startled. There were golem everywhere, thousands upon thousands. They surrounded the plaza, filed into the streets, stirred on rooftops, lined up in front of windows, and watched from balconies overhead. And they were all looking at Herrera's party.

The creatures approached the party like hesitant, curious children. In varying shapes and sizes, some transparent, most opaque, they moved like creatures of flesh and blood. Most were essentially of recognizable form. Some had spidery limbs that supported them up walls while others flew overhead, with wings of shale instead of feathers. Some were as small as rodents and some taller than houses. Several didn't quite resemble any living creature, sculpted into profiles of inscrutable form and function. Gorso cocked his machine gun and the rest of the crew followed his lead.

Smiling dangerously, Bastion thumbed back the hammer's on his guns.

"Hold your fire, all of you!" Herrera barked, slapping down the barrels of those on either side of him. "If they'd wanted to harm us, I doubt they'd have allowed us this far. Stay calm." He turned to Dorothea and spoke softly. "Am I right in saying that, or are we in peril?"

Dorothea shook her head. "I'm not terribly sure."

The golem guide pushed open the door to the palace. Beyond was a vast space under a steeply pitched ceiling of age-blackened beams. The walls and floors were giant, smooth blocks of stone and the windows ornate arches filled with intricate pressings of stained glass. Metal braziers hung from the walls and ceiling, filling the foyer with rich amber light. It walked to the side of the door and extended an arm out, as if inviting them to enter.

"Emet."

"Only one real way to find out." Dorothea stepped past the golem and into the majestic palace. Not knowing what else to do, the rest followed.