Present Day.

The helm of the Paragon ship felt like it was going to spin out of control. Wren's teeth chattered with the force of it. The wind was strong so high up, batting the small vessel around like it was little more than a toy. Godfrey, Scarlett, Althea, and Titus were busy with the controls behind her.

They were one ship of many: a swarm of Paragon vessels flying over the Petrichor Sea, headed towards the passage in the fog. Wren was glad she wasn't leading the way because she hadn't the faintest clue how to get there.

The fog was, of course, a familiar sight. She'd spent her entire life looking at it: a grey impenetrable wall, stretching up as far as the eye could see. But this time, she could make out a dark spot in the fogginess, growing bigger as they got closer.

"The passage," Scarlett said, suddenly at Wren's shoulder.

Wren bit her lip. "Yeah..." Her body felt little more than a tense bundle of raw nerves.

A Paragon ship flew towards the dark passage and disappeared inside. Wren held her breath—she couldn't help it. The Settlement had meant a turning point in her life, in all the crew's lives, and here was the passage, open to them...

Wren moved their ship forward. Titus took up a perch on the ledge in front of her. Godfrey and Althea moved in as well to get a glimpse of the passage. There was a slight shuffling behind them, and Wren turned around to see Teddy and Abigail, with her hand wrapped. They joined the others and looked out at the expanse, their eyes wide.

Wren's hands trembled a little as she moved their ship closer and closer to the fog until, finally, it was their turn.

They moved into the passage, and a shadow fell over the ship, casting them in an eerie, dim light. Scarlett clutched Wren, her fingernails digging into Wren's shoulder. Wren reached up and clasped Scarlett's hand in her own.

The surrounding fog was so thick that everything around them disappeared. They couldn't see a thing beyond the ship immediately in front of them, and even that dipped in and out of view in the darkness.

Titus peered back at her from over his shoulder. "Keep her at an even speed," he advised.

"Mhm..." Her foot hovered over the acceleration pedal, shaking slightly. The fog was only getting denser and denser...

Finally, when it felt like they'd been trapped in the passage for ages, Scarlett spoke up. "Look...it's getting brighter."

Sure enough, she was right. The dark fog was slowly turned a gunmetal grey.

"There," Titus said, pointing up ahead. A ray of sunlight pierced the fog, illuminating the ships.

The ship ahead of them veered right, emerging from the fog. With the ship in front of them out of the way, the crew had to shield their eyes from the sudden bright sunlight. Wren squinted to see. They moved out of the passage...and emerged in the mainland.

Scarlett took a sharp inhale. "Wow..."

The fact that they were now beyond the fog, out of Meraki, was surreal. Wren wanted to pinch herself but had to keep her hands on the wheel.

All of the Paragon ships were heading towards the mainland in a line. Wren slipped their ship into formation with them.

"I think I see something," said Althea, squinting into the horizon.

"Me, too," said Godfrey. "Mountains and desert. And smoke."

"The mages must have sent in a scrapper like we planned," said Titus. "I hope it worked."

Wren frowned. "I can't see anything! What are you—" she stopped. "Oh."

Her breath caught in her throat. The mainland stretched as far as the eye could see. It was an expanse of brown and beige, with sand, dunes, and jagged mountain ridges in the distance. She could make out a thin trail of smoke in the distance, presumably where the scrapper had made impact.

This place was nothing more than a barren wasteland. Was this what her family had died to try and tame? Was this what had caused all the crew's pain and loss?

The sight of the Settlement sent a chill up her spine. It was little more than a tangle of ruins hugging the coastline. Sun-bleached timber and rusted metal were scattered everywhere. The only structure still standing was the Paragon outpost.

It was only five storeys tall—modest, by Paragon standards. Its metal walls were stained with orange rust. Claw marks covered almost every square inch: long, deep gashes from the moraiths. She shuddered to think what the creatures themselves looked like.

"Quick, bring us down to the rooftop!" Godfrey said, pointing down at the outpost.

Two ships were already on the outpost's roof, and a third was coming in for a landing.

Wren recognized one of the ships as the one they had stolen, the one they had passed on to the mages. At least they'd had the good sense to keep the engines working—when the moraiths returned, there wouldn't be any time to stoke the fires and get her started again.

The second ship on the roof was a medical frigate, releasing a steady stream of medics.

The third, landing now, was a combat vessel, armed to the teeth with gun turrets. The guns swiveled towards the horizon, ready to fire.

"Fog above," Scarlett said in awe. "They found a way in..."

There was a flash of movement beyond the ships, and Wren saw that the mages were gathered around an opening in the roof: it was small, barely three feet wide. A vent, maybe, or a utility hatch. One of the mages was the male version of Althea—angular and pale, with white-blonde hair and a severe expression.

Wren pointed down at him. "I take it that's your brother, Althea."

"Yes," said Althea.

"Has anyone told you that you have a way with words?"

Althea looked confused. "No."

Wren rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

"That was sarcasm."

Scarlett nodded approvingly. "Well done."

But Althea frowned. "Wait...was that sarcasm?"

Titus reprimanded them with a shush. "They're pulling someone out!"

Althea's brother and Kipling—the mage they'd met back in Stonecliffe—worked together to lift someone out of the hatch.

Wren pressed her face to the glass. Her first thought was, it's a body...we're too late.

The figure was shaped like a human—it had two arms, and two legs, and a head that hung heavy on its shoulders—but it didn't move. Shreds of clothing hung off its emaciated frame like sheets on a clothing line. Wren couldn't see the person's face...it was covered by matted hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in years.

"They're alive," Titus said. "I can see their chest moving..."

"Are you sure?" Wren asked.

Titus's eyes had incredible range, but it seemed impossible that the person was still alive.

"Watch out!" Godfrey cried.

A Paragon ship veered dangerously close to them. Wren grabbed the helm and pivoted away at the last second, narrowly avoiding a collision. She sucked her teeth, jolted out of her daze.

"Better hurry up and land," said Scarlett. There wasn't much room left on the compact rooftop, and another Paragon vessel was already cruising by, preparing to land.

Wren worked quickly. Her breath was uneven, her hands too shaky to manage a smooth landing. The ship jerked at the last second, lurching into place on the roof. For once Godfrey didn't give her a hard time about it.

Three massive Paragon combat ships flew past overhead, their state-of-the-art engines rumbling.

Titus was quiet, peering closely at where the ships were headed.

"What is it?" Wren asked, dreading his answer.

"We don't have much time," he said, his voice low. "Pull as many survivors as you can and let's get out of here."

"Why? What's wrong?" She hated the panic in her voice.

"The moraiths are on their way here, and we have to be gone by the time they arrive."

She glanced across the dunes, following Titus's gaze towards the creatures, but the moraiths were too far for her human eyes and she couldn't see a thing—not even a dark speck in the sand.

Nonetheless, the crew jumped into action. Together, they ran out of the bridge and sprinted through the ship to the exit ramp. Wren pulled up the rear—she was at the door when Titus spoke, keeping her back.

"Wren!"

"What?"

When he didn't answer, she turned to face him. He was looking at her with a strange expression. "The lost shade," he said. "It was looking for you."

She was confused. "What do you mean?"

A pause, then: "Never mind. It's not important right now. Go on, get out of here!" he snapped, turning his back to her as he seized the helm. "And be quick about it!"

She rushed out of the bridge, bolting through the corridor and down the ramp—and finally came to a stop.

The mainland was hot and humid, the air as thick as syrup. The wind was strong on the outpost's roof—it whipped up Wren's jacket and threw little flecks of sand into her hair. The sky above was a clear, azure blue.

And the smell...the smell was something else entirely.

It wasn't the briny, dead-fish scent that Wren was used to at the docks in Kinvarra—it was sweet, salty, and earthy. She thought of fresh iced lemon and clean, cold stone.

"Move! Out of the way!"

She leapt out of the way just in time.

Two soldiers pushed past her, carrying a limp body between them—whoever it was gave a low groan.

The rooftop was suddenly a lot more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago. Soldiers and medics sped up the ramp of the medical frigate, hauling survivors into the ship as quickly as they could.

Back at the hatch, the rest of the crew was now working alongside the Paragon soldiers, helping them lift people from the outpost. Wren blinked at the bizarre sight.

Teddy and one of the mages—the freckled girl whose shade floated overhead, shielding them from the burning sun—appeared out of the fray, carrying a frail survivor between them. Sweat was already running down both of their faces, leaving deep stains on their shirts, but they pressed on, rushing towards the medical frigate.

There was gunfire in the distance, and a growl as the guns on the combat vessel pivoted, preparing to fire.

All of a sudden, the pace of everything seemed to pick up. Wren felt as though she was in a daze: the world was swirling around her, a storm of activity, and she was here, rooted to the ground.

A Paragon soldier with sunken eyes lurched past, a limp arm slung around his neck. He struggled to move, the survivor's feet dragging on the ground.

Wren's body acted before she had time to think. She slipped under the survivor, supporting his weight.

His burden suddenly lifted, the soldier looked over at her. Seeing she wasn't a soldier, his eyes widened.

She resisted rolling her eyes. "Are we getting this guy out of here or what?"

After a moment, the soldier said, "Let's go," and they pushed forward together.

A soldier and a pirate, working together. Who would've thought it?

They hurried the survivor over to the frigate and let a flurry of gentle hands pull him on board. Their task now complete, Wren and the soldier pulled away from each other. The soldier looked at her, biting the inside of his cheek like a child. In truth, he wasn't much older than her. She tensed, ready to act if needed. You could never tell where a Paragon prig's head was at.

"Thanks," he finally said.

She tried not to let the surprise show on her face. "No problem."

This was by far the most civil interaction she'd ever had with a soldier: no weapons, no running for her life, no bullets fired at her ship...her heart gave a deep pang for her lost ship.

A sudden cry pulled her attention back to the hatch. Was that Orix?

Wren rushed over as soldiers lifted someone out of the hatch. Rather than rushing them to a ship, though, they laid him down on the ground. Orix was immediately glued to his side, tears running down his cheeks, holding the man's hand.

Two shades hovered above them, intertwined.

She could tell from the way he looked at Orix that this was Abraham. There was a broad smile on his face, despite the fact that he looked nearly starved to death.

Just then, a Paragon combat ship flew overhead, so close that Wren instinctively ducked. She could hear the crackle of a roaring fire. Its balloon was crushed, smoke billowed from the engine, one of its propellers reduced to a stiff pulp...

Wren watched in horror as the ship crashed into the ocean, sending up a tremendous wave.

Click click click.

The sound made Wren's heart quicken. The moraiths were closing in. They needed to get out, now.

The others on the outpost roof had the same thought.

"That's the last of them!" Kipling shouted from the hatch. "Go, go, go! They're almost on us, go!"

"Soldiers, to your ships!" Althea shouted.

The crowd around the hatch dispersed as quickly as it had formed. The surrounding ships' engines were already buzzing, ready for a speedy departure. For once, Wren was grateful for the Paragon's efficiency.

Soldiers picked up Abraham and lifted him towards the frigate. Orix disappeared inside with them.

She saw Nathaniel disappear inside the combat frigate. Standing on the deck, Althea caught Wren's eye and nodded to her before vanishing inside as well.

Teddy ran past Wren, heading back to the ship. There were only a handful of people left on the roof, now. Wren turned and raced after him.

There was a clatter as both the combat vessel and medical frigate pulled up their ramps, and a roar as they pushed off. They soared towards the passage in the fog with the survivors.

Kipling was yelling for the other three mages to get up the ramp. He sounded terrified.

Someone slammed into her, yanking her towards their ship: Godfrey. "Gotta go!" he gasped.

Another nerve-withering roar ripped through the air: much louder this time. A Paragon ship swooped down, firing a stream of bullets at...something. A vague, dark shape.

A single, massive claw appeared, taking a swipe at the ship's underbelly—it missed by a hair.

Wren's eyes went wide. If a single claw was that big, how large were the moraiths themselves?

She slowed to get a better look, but Godfrey gave her a shove, forcing her up the ramp of their stolen Paragon ship and into the bridge. Scarlett was already inside.

Titus was at the helm, itching to take off. "Took you long enough!" he spat.

"Wait!" said Wren.

"For what?!"

The freckled mage had stopped midway up the ramp to the mages' ship. She looked back at the hatch in the outpost.

The red-nosed boy mage ran out, reaching for her, but she pulled away, rushing back to the hatch.

They were shouting, but they were too far to hear what they were saying.

"I think there are more survivors," Wren said.

"I don't care," Titus cried. "If we stay any longer, we're dead!"

Just then, a sharp claw appeared on the edge of the roof. And then another.

The two mages stopped mid-run, frozen in their tracks.

"The mages can handle themselves!" Godfrey cried. "We have to go now!"

The moraith pulled itself up over the edge of the outpost, and Wren watched, mesmerized.

Its blood-red eyes had slits for pupils, and its skin was weathered and pale, almost grey...pulled tight over its skeletal frame. It opened its maw impossibly wide, revealing rows of spindly, razor sharp teeth and lunged—

Bam bam bam!

Scarlett was outside on the rooftop below, a marble-handled pistol in each hand. She fired round after round at the beast, but the bullets did nothing but catch its attention.

It turned, fixing Scarlett with a withering stare.

Wren couldn't breathe. "It's going to kill her!"

"Wren, don't you dar—!" Godfrey started, but she was already gone. Out of the bridge and down the corridor, her boots barely touching the ground. She skidded to a stop at the ramp—just as Scarlett was leaping inside.

Wren gasped in relief. "Thank the fog—" but stopped short.

Scarlett collapsed on the ground at Wren's feet, as white as a sheet. Blood pooled on the metal floor around her. Where her left arm had been was just empty air.

"No," Wren whispered, dropping to the ground beside her. "What should I...what can I..."

Scarlett breathed in shallow, uneven gasps.

Teddy appeared at Wren's shoulder. "Go, Titus!" he yelled.

"Finally!" Titus shouted, and slowly, the ship started to climb.

Godfrey bolted past to shut the door, but the freckled mage got in his way. She leapt inside the ship just as Titus pulled them away. Unmoored, the ramp collapsed onto the roof below.

"Kipling left us!" the mage cried, and Wren saw she was right: the mages' ship was already high in the sky, on its way. Kipling had left his own mages to die.

Godfrey reached over again to shut the door, but the mage stopped her. "Wait, please! Seth is still down there!"

Sure enough, another mage was racing towards their ship. The moraith behind him let out a series of clicks, and Wren could feel the sound rattle in her chest.

"Help him," Scarlett whispered.

She shook her head. "No. I'm staying with you."

They were already five feet above the roof and climbing. Godfrey and the freckled mage were already on their stomachs, leaning out the open door. Wren leapt down beside them—they were all reaching out their hands to the mage below.

"Jump, Seth!" the mage shouted. "Take my hand!"

Seth's eyes were wide as he ran towards them, hand outstretched.

He looked so young—he could barely be more than seventeen. The moraith was right behind him, its eyes locked onto him—

"Run, Seth!" the girl was shouting—

The boy sped up and leapt, his legs pinwheeling through the air as he careened off the edge of the outpost roof, towards the ship—

The moraith swiped out a tremendous claw—

Seth's fingers brushed the girl's, but only for an instant. He was jerked back, claimed by the moraith.

"No!" the girl screamed. She lunged out of the door, but Godfrey grabbed her, hauling her back. Wren squeezed her eyes shut against the boy's death below, and slammed the door shut.

The ship climbed into the sky, back to the passage in the fog.

Wren fell back, breathing hard. The mage was a heap on the floor, her shoulders shaking as Godfrey held her.

"Seth..." she sobbed. "Seth..."

Godfrey looked up at Wren, his eyes heavy with grief.

Wren was quiet. Nothing she said would change things. She slumped down onto the floor and crawled over to Scarlett. Teddy had wrapped her shoulder in gauze, but it was already soaked through. She looked so pale...

Wren took her in her arms, and Scarlett's head fell heavy onto her chest. "Hold on, please Scarlett, just hold on...don't...please..."

"Step on it, Titus!" Teddy shouted through to the helm. "Scarlett's fading!"

A sudden, searing pain tore through Wren, worse than any pain she'd ever felt.

"Arghhhh!" she cried out.

Teddy grabbed her. "Wren! What is it?"

The pain was so terrible that Wren couldn't form words. She tried to look down, to see herself. Had she been shot? But there was no blood, and no single point where the hurt emanated from—this was an all-enveloping, all-consuming agony.

Another wave of pain racked her body and she arched back, howling.

Blurry faces swam overhead.

"What happened to her?!" Godfrey shouted, his face as pale as snow.

As quickly as it had come on, the pain subsided. Wren gasped. "What happened? Did something—"

The pain came back tenfold. She threw her head back and screamed. Her intestines were being ripped out and shoved back inside her. Her skin was burning off. She was so cold that her teeth were chattering. If there was anything in her stomach, she'd have thrown up from the pain—it was so overwhelming that all she could do was gasp in air.

She called for death—it would better than this, anything would be better than this...

Faintly, somewhere far away, she could hear Titus yelling her name. She tried reaching for him, but the pain got there first.

There was only one reason for this kind of all-encompassing pain, but her mind was too muddled to make sense of it—

When she finally slipped into unconsciousness, it was a mercy.