Ibris and Yoshua were aboard Marcus' latest bespoke airship, the Ishtar's Veil. Yoshua had slept through most of the flight and had only just woken up. Inside, the ship was split into two distinct sections: the pilot's area at the front, where Yoshua now sat beside a state-of-the-art humanoid android named Nabu-9, and the lounge-like rear, where Ibris and Marcus drank loudly.

Ishtar's Veil was a masterpiece of design, a cross between a predatory bird and a dream made from metal and light. Its body was long and tapering, painted in a deep obsidian hue that reflected faint traces of the ship's ambient light in muted ripples. The wings, angled sharply back, were fitted with glowing conduits of energy, giving the illusion of slashing claws poised to strike. The cockpit was a seamless glass dome tinted with a faint violet. Beneath it all, the ship's thrusters hummed softly, a low and steady purr that promised speed and power far beyond anything Yoshua had ever experienced.

Nabu-9 was clad in a sharp, military-style uniform, complete with crisp lapels and polished boots, exuding an air of command that was impossible to ignore. Its face was almost human yet subtly uncanny, with glowing blue eyes that pierced through the dim cockpit and a jawline so flawlessly symmetrical it betrayed its artificial nature.

Yoshua sat stiffly in his chair, arms tightly folded across his chest, his gaze locked forward, avoiding both the android's eerie presence and the muffled noise of revelry coming from the rear of the ship.

"Yeah, you can't handle your ambrosia like I can, Marcus," Ibris called from the back, his booming laugh rolling through the cabin.

Yoshua only sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm fairly certain that's not true," Marcus replied.

The clink of glass punctuated the exchange.

Uneasy in the same clothes as yesterday, Yoshua shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "So, you can fly this thing, connect to local ports for clearance, and serve ambrosia all on your own, huh?" he asked Nabu-9. Yoshua's attempt at conversation was less about curiosity and more about distracting himself from Ibris and Marcus' loud drinking games, neither of whom had slept all night.

"I am programmed to ensure the comfort and safety of all passengers aboard Ishtar's Veil," Nabu-9 intoned. "Ishtar's Veil mostly flies itself."

"Comforting." Yoshua said, spinning in a storm of anger and worry.

Kaya had not responded to any of his messages.

Maybe she lost her tablet in the Clinic, or maybe she did not know how to respond to call on her new tablet. That was plausible, he thought bitterly, remembering her lack of patience with technology.

What gnawed at him even more was the silence from Mazi.

Yoshua recalled the holographic image from the security logs of Ibris' apartment, which Ibris had shown him hours earlier. It captured Mazi and Kaya entering together, confirming they were safe. Ibris gave Yoshua every assurance that Kaya was in good hands with Mazi. "He's very honorable," Ibris had joked. But Yoshua could not shake the dread pooling in his stomach.

In the rear section of the ship, Marcus raised his glass. "Let's do another round!"

"Bring it on," Ibris answered immediately.

Slow down, Ibris, was all Yoshua could think as he turned in his chair to watch the two men.

"To the South," Marcus toasted with a grin, his polished demeanor intact despite the alcohol. He leaned back in his seat, his tailored suit impeccable, the crisp lines and sharp cuts accentuating his composed, professional air. Even in the dim glow of the ship's lights, the fabric of his outfit seemed to shimmer with understated luxury, fitting him perfectly, like someone accustomed to power and precision.

"To the South," Ibris echoed, raising his glass.

He sipped slowly, eyeing Marcus with a mix of amusement and skepticism. Ibris' suit jacket lay discarded on the chair beside him, and his fitted shirt clung messily to his muscular build, undone at the collar and wrinkled from the careless manner in which he had worn it. The sharp edges of his usually composed appearance had softened, his posture loose and relaxed, a stark contrast to the immaculate state Marcus still projected.

That's exactly how Marcus wants you, Ibris, Yoshua thought. Relaxed. Disarmed. Easier to spill whatever he's after.

The wolf halfbreed did not trust Marcus' intentions. Honesty was not exactly his strongest suit.

Yoshua leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting to the events of the previous evening...

Yesterday, the images of the torn Yucan ship on the news streams had left all three men stunned. Marcus, sensing that Ibris knew more than he was letting on, insisted Yoshua and Ibris join him for dinner. Yoshua immediately recognized the proposition's ulterior motive and tried, unsuccessfully, to decline.

Ibris, however, was already buzzing from an earlier dose of ambrosia. He was intrigued, particularly when Marcus hinted that he would divulge more about his connections to the Yucan government over dinner.

Dinner, as Yoshua expected, turned into drinks.

The bar Marcus chose oozed with opulence. Polished dark marble floors reflected the warm glow of pendant lights, and a gleaming rosewood bar was lined with rare, imported ambrosia. Shelves of expensive bottles framed bartenders whose work felt more like performance art, while low marble tables and plush chairs hosted the city's elite murmuring in hushed tones.

A faint sweetness, tinged with citrus, lingered in the air as a string quartet played softly in the corner.

When their drinks arrived, the golden ambrosia bore a delicate flourish of flower petals crowning each glass. Everything about the place felt deliberate to Yoshua. This place was an appeal to Ibris' finer tastes. Its elegance was a stage where Marcus was now playing the master of ceremonies, getting what he wanted through the simple exchange of food, drink, and merriment.

"...My brother, reluctantly—thanks to my father's demands—put me in touch with the Yucan Prime Minister's cabinet, and that's how I was able to secure shipments of corn for the Alemurian Queen," Marcus said, finally finishing the long-winded story that had dominated most of dinner thus far. He took a sip from his ambrosia glass.

The faint clink of cutlery and low murmurs from the surrounding tables filled the air.

"I still can't wrap my head around how you're back in Atlantis," Ibris said, reaching for the bottle to pour another drink. He swirled the liquid in his glass. "With the charges against you, I thought I'd never see you again after the war."

"To be perfectly honest," Marcus replied, taking a measured sip of his own drink, "nor did I."

Yoshua could sense there was more Marcus was not saying.

"Nevertheless, it's good to have you back, my sky god friend," Ibris said with a laugh, raising his glass in mock cheer.

Marcus casually watched the news streams on a screen nearby, still showing the destruction of the Yucan ship along the southern coast. "I know those were your guys, Ibris," he said, pointing with a glass in hand.

Ibris glanced at the screen.

Marcus watched him intently, waiting for a reaction.

Ibris gave him nothing.

Yoshua shook his head in disapproval, and took a sip of his pomegranate juice. There it is. The question Marcus has been dying to ask all evening, he thought.

Ibris paused for a moment. "This ambrosia has a hint of black spice, doesn't it?" He swirled his glass again and examined it closely.

Marcus' annoyance flickered for a brief moment, he was clearly more interested in prying information from Ibris than discussing ambrosia, but he recovered smoothly. "It's Alemurian, so it probably is black spice. This bar is renowned for its imports."

"Delicious," Ibris said. Then, to Yoshua's surprise, he added, his gaze pensive on his drink, "I can't seem to get in touch with my men in the South."

Yoshua's eyebrows shot up, surprised that Ibris would mention anything about the South. He wanted to urge Ibris to say less but hesitated, aware that Marcus was watching them both closely.

"Three days, you say?" Marcus leaned towards Ibris slightly. "I've been having trouble too. People I know in the South... silent as a grave."

Ibris nodded, his drunken state loosening his tongue further. "It's been dead air. It's... disconcerting..." His voice trailed off.

Marcus studied him for a moment before leaning back with a knowing smile. "Well, luckily, I might have a solution." He set his glass down and pulled out his high-end tablet. He turned the screen toward them, revealing an image of a sleek, state-of-the-art black airship. "I call her the Ishtar's Veil."

"I do like that name," Yoshua remarked, drinking his juice.

"She's a beauty." Ibris glanced at Yoshua, a smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly why the name struck Yoshua. Ishtar was the name of his small green transport, a high-performance collector's item he had built with his brother Dariq.

"She is incredible," Marcus said, grinning. "Custom-built from Mutapun crystalline ore."

"That ore is incredibly rare," Yoshua replied, recalling his experience working with it on airships during his time in the military. "Even the Atlantean government can't get its hands on it."

"I guess." Marcus shrugged, the casual gesture underscoring his wealth and privilege. "The Ishtar's Veil is one of a kind. She's equipped with super stealth technology, she can't be picked up on most radars. Makes her practically invisible to anyone not looking directly at her."

Yoshua's brow furrowed, suspicion evident. "How does someone charged with treason get an airship like that in Atlantis?"

Marcus sidestepped the question, continuing instead, "The Ishtar's Veil can make it to the South from Bahyan City in less than six hours. No other airship, military or private, even comes close." He paused, tapping his fingers lightly against the rim of his glass. "Well, no, she's not the fastest," he admitted finally. "Your guys' airship was much faster. I saw it on the Nexus Umbra system."

Ibris laughed drunkenly, and this time Yoshua joined him, at the thought of Esa's movements being mistaken for an airship.

"Right, right," Ibris said, waving a hand as if to change the subject.

"I think we should call it a night," Yoshua said, firmly.

Marcus laughed and threw up his hands. "Oh, come on! Let me help you. Let's head South tonight! Right now!" He looked between Yoshua and Ibris with enthusiasm. "We can get in direct contact with our people. And who knows? Maybe we'll get some answers!"

Yoshua scowled, his jaw tightening as his thoughts churned. You don't care about answers. You just want to know about that ship.

Ibris hesitated, glancing at Yoshua, who was already shaking his head. "Only six hours, you say?"

"Ibris, no," Yoshua muttered, visibly frustrated.

"I don't know, Yoshua," Ibris said contemplatively, drinking again. "A quick six-hour trip to the South. That's... tempting."

"Tempting?!" Yoshua's voice rose sharply. "You can't be serious. My niece—"

Marcus cut him off, his tone charismatic. "Don't worry. I can get you there and back in a day."

Ibris nodded with drunken eagerness. "All in one day, Yoshua!"

"Ibris, no!" Yoshua repeated, his frustration deepening.

"This might be the fastest way to figure out what's going on down there," Ibris argued. "Besides, we need to speak to Esa—" He stopped abruptly, realizing too late that he had said too much.

Marcus' eyes lit up with interest, and he leaned in, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Esa? Who's Esa?"

Ibris exhaled heavily, as he tried to cover his slip. "I accept your offer," he said evenly. "We'll go."

Marcus grinned, standing and raising his glass. "Done."

Yoshua objected further. "We should head back. The blood results for Jah—"

Ibris, though more drunk, now had enough presence of mind to catch Yoshua. "The results will be there when we get back. All of the results," he added firmly, his eyes locking on Yoshua with intensity.

Great Mother, why won't he just let it go.

Yoshua caught the unspoken warning. He knew his own blood results were still pending in the lab. Clenching his fists, he said nothing more.

Ibris rose unsteadily yet with confidence, lifting his glass to clink against Marcus'. "To the Ishtar's Veil! Let's see if she lives up to everything Marcus claims!"

Yoshua's memory faded as a low rumble of turbulence pulled him from his thoughts. He sat up immediately.

"What was that, Nabu-9?"

"Although rare, the Ishtar's Veil occasionally experiences minor turbulence," the android replied smoothly. They had been flying for over five hours, and this was the first time the ship shifted even slightly in the air.

Yoshua adjusted in his seat. "How much longer until we're near the monastery?"

"In about twenty-nine minutes," Nabu-9 replied.

Suddenly, the android froze mid-motion, its glowing eyes dimming to black. Every screen in the cockpit flickered before going dark. The ship's hum of energy cut off abruptly, replaced by a deafening silence.

Yoshua's heart dropped as a sudden lurch signaled the airship's descent.

Red warning lights flared to life, bathing the cockpit in an eerie glow. The Ishtar's Veil was nosediving, the black vessel's speed turning gravity into a merciless force. Yoshua's breath came in short, panicked gasps as he unbuckled his restraints and shoved the inert android from the pilot's chair. It slumped to the floor with a lifeless thud.

"Manual control, manual control..." Yoshua muttered under his breath, his hands trembling as they found the ship's control yoke. His fingers gripped the cool metal desperately, and he pulled with every ounce of strength he had.

The ship groaned in protest, its aerodynamic body shuddering violently as it fought against the rapid descent.

Yoshua's mind raced, a chaotic blur of military training and sheer survival instinct kicking in.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Pull up. Don't overcorrect.

The cockpit view was a dizzying spiral of clouds and the dark landscape below, rushing closer by the second. Sweat dripped from Yoshua's brow, stinging his eyes as he forced the ship out of its deadly dive.

A deafening metallic groan filled the cabin.

The yoke resisted, shaking in Yoshua's grip, but inch by inch, the airship began to level out.

Behind him, pure chaos reigned.

"FUCK!" Ibris was being tossed around like a rag doll. He clutched at the edge of a table, slurring curses as a glass shattered nearby. "FUCK! What is going on?" he yelled, his voice muffled by objects clanging against the walls. "I thought you said your ship was state-of-the-art, Marcus!"

Marcus, somehow steadier on his feet, braced himself against the doorway to the cockpit. His face was pale, but his composure held despite the mayhem around them.

"What happened, Yoshua?" he demanded, gripping the back of the pilot's chair for balance, his knuckles whitening. "And what's wrong with Nabu-9?"

Yoshua did not look up, his focus glued to the controls. "All the technology just... died," he said, taut with concentration. "Nabu-9, the airship's A.I., the navigation—everything. We're flying blind." Each word was clipped, straining under the pressure of keeping the ship steady.

At that moment, Ibris stumbled into the cockpit, his face flushed, hair disheveled, and a napkin snagged awkwardly on one of his horns. He clung to the doorway for support, his lopsided grin at odds with the palpable tension. "Oh, aren't we glad," he slurred, swaying unsteadily as he pointed a wobbly finger at Yoshua, "that our dear friend here used to work on airships back when he was in the military?" The words had barely left his mouth before he lost his balance, stumbling forward and collapsing in a heap on the floor with a drunken groan.

Yoshua exhaled sharply, gripping the yoke tighter. "I'm flying manually now," he said, curtly. "So, unless you want us in pieces, let me focus."

Marcus shook his head in disbelief, the gravity of their predicament fully sinking in. His gaze darted from the dead screens to Yoshua's tense grip on the controls, then to the jagged mountains looming closer in the distance. He swallowed hard, his earlier bravado dissolving.

"Right," he said quietly. "Just... just keep us alive."

Yoshua shot an irritated glance at Ibris, sprawled awkwardly on the floor, then at Marcus. He snapped, "Take him and strap in!"

Marcus nodded quickly, still pale and visibly shaken. He braced himself against the doorway again, his grip tightening as he struggled to drag Ibris' large frame toward the back of the ship. With considerable effort, he hoisted Ibris into a seat at the back of the cabin and strapped him in.

Then Marcus returned to the cockpit and secured himself in the seat next to Yoshua.

"I didn't know you could fly like this," he murmured.

The wolf halfbreed just grunted in response.

The airship finally stabilized, though the ominous quiet of its systems remained. The low hum of manual propulsion filled the void, a testament to Yoshua's flying ability.

"What did we miss?" Marcus said aloud, almost to himself. "There's been no talk of political unease in the South, no hint of a recent technology dispute." He rubbed his temple. "And I've got a fucking horrible headache from all that ambrosia."

"No one told you both to drink so much," Yoshua muttered without looking at him.

"This can't be right," Marcus slurred, staring at his dead tablet as if a realization were finally hitting him, panic creeping into his voice. "Someone's jamming the technology here!"

Yoshua shot him a look, arching a brow. "Yeah, no kidding." He said dryly, his hands steady on the yoke. "Now tell me, where do you want me to land this thing? Because with zero navigation, I've got nothing but guesswork here."

Marcus rubbed his temple, clearly flustered. "We'll have to land it by sight," he said, scanning the terrain outside the cockpit windows. "Do you know the area at all?"

"No." Yoshua exhaled sharply through his nose. "Never been South before. Only know it from Ibris' stories."

Marcus' expression twisted with distress as he glanced out at the looming mountains. "Stories won't help us right now," he muttered, visibly struggling to focus. "Let's think—"

Before Yoshua could retort, a small object appeared in the distance, moving impossibly fast. It darted toward the Ishtar's Veil like a streak of silver, slicing through the afternoon air with uncanny precision.

"What the—" Marcus' voice trailed off as the object drew closer.

Yoshua, however, knew exactly what—or rather, who—it was. "Esa," he muttered under his breath.

Effortlessly matching the ship's speed, Esa glided alongside the cockpit and raised a hand in a casual wave, acknowledging Yoshua's presence.

"Great Mother..." Yoshua muttered, waving back hesitantly as relief washed over him at the sight of Esa's familiar face.

Marcus' head whipped around, stunned. He leaned forward to peer through the cockpit.

"Is— is that a man flying outside my ship?!"

Before Yoshua could answer, the ship lurched subtly, as though an invisible force had taken control. Both men felt it—a shift in the ship's trajectory, smoother and more precise than any manual adjustment Yoshua could have made.

Yoshua's hands hovered over the controls for a moment before he leaned back and released them entirely.

"Don't let go!" Marcus shouted, frantic. "What are you doing?!"

"Esa's got it," Yoshua said firmly, his eyes fixed ahead.

"So that's Esa..." Marcus said under his breath, staring in disbelief.

Esa guided the Ishtar's Veil smoothly through the air, the ship responding to his unseen abilities.

Yoshua sat back, his hands falling idly to his lap. He prayed quietly under his breath.

The jagged mountains and rough terrain below gradually gave way to a wide valley, where sparse, ancient trees swayed gently in the wind.

"What... what is Esa doing?! There's no place to land here!" Marcus gripped the edge of his seat as he stared at the scene unfolding before him. His eyes darted between the dormant cockpit controls and the rugged terrain below.

"He's landing us," Yoshua said calmly.

Marcus leaned forward, gripping the edge of the dashboard. "This—this isn't possible!"

"I'm surprised you think so," Yoshua said, amused. "Surely many sky gods can use their gift in this way?"

"No, they can't," Marcus replied curtly.

Yoshua's wolf eyes followed Esa's swift movements, thoughtful. In that moment it became clear to him that, though Esa looked like a sky god, he was no nobleman Marcus recognized.

As the ship neared the ground, the trees beneath them began to tremble, their roots straining against the earth. Yoshua felt a deep, resonant groan that made the very air in the cockpit hum. Suddenly, the trees tore free from the soil, massive trunks rising and twisting as if plucked by a giant hand. Roots, earth, and debris rained down as the valley cleared itself, carving out space for the landing.

The ship touched down gently in the newly-opened space.

Yoshua exhaled in relief, murmuring, "Thank the Great Mother," while Marcus remained frozen in stunned silence, staring out at the barren patch of earth where only moments ago the trees had stood tall.

"Did—did Esa rip those trees out of the ground?" Marcus' voice cracked as he gestured out the window. "He's the one who tore that Yucan ship in half, isn't he?"

Yoshua didn't reply. He only watched as Esa flew toward the airship's hatch.

Marcus immediately slammed the button on the cockpit console that controlled the airlock. As the hatch hissed open, he rushed to the doorway to meet the flying man. Yoshua followed more slowly, inhaling the cool valley air. He could hear Marcus' heart pounding with adrenaline.

Esa soared toward them, suspended in midair, moving as effortlessly as if gravity were a suggestion rather than a law.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked.

Marcus was dumbfounded and could only nod.

Yoshua leaned around Marcus, poking his head out the door. "We're all fine," he said, shaking his head, "though Ibris passed out while the ship was plummeting. I guess he thought a nap was the best survival strategy."

******

Chapter Soundtrack: "Uprising" by Muse

Author's Note

This chapter is all about the dynamics between Ibris and Marcus, and of course the big Esa reveal through Marcus' eyes. How do you feel about Marcus so far? He's polished, confident, and always calculating, but is he trustworthy? Is Marcus a good guy, or is he playing a longer game?

And then there's Esa's entrance, destructive and awe-inspiring all at once. To Marcus, it's a shock, maybe even a threat. To Yoshua, it's relief. To Ibris... well, he's too drunk to process it. 😅

So what do you think? Share your thoughts, I'd love to hear your take.