I woke up with the taste of iron in my mouth and the buzz of fever still clawing at the back of my brain. Sunlight cutting through the trees like a knife reminded me I was still alive. Barely.
It all started back at House Thrashk-place calls itself the House of Finding. Figured that meant we were gonna lose something. We talked to Quollin and Spore-nature types, the kind that feel trees like some folks feel guilt. Said they'd never been out in the wild. Not sure what they thought this was.
Then there were the ThreeKin. Whisper and Silence, always talking like riddles with a hangover. And the Cask of Dream-name's about as useful as a blindfold in a knife fight, but they had leads. Said to follow vantage points and local whispers to trace someone named Mergrim. Yeah, that's when it got complicated.
Drough told us what we were really after: the Heart of Ubutao. Sounds romantic, right? It's not. Floating island, guarded secrets, and a name that felt older than the bones in my back. Mergrim was native to the place, said the Goblins took Rakamar-wanted our help to take it back.
We met others too. Sereni, who heard of the place but never set foot near it. Lori claimed she had. Turned out she lied. Shadra said nothing. That's how you know she knew something.
But we struck a deal. Hired Mergrim. Paid the ThreeKin a sack of gold heavy enough to hurt. They brought the gear-canoes, rations, clean water, even waterproof shelter. Fancy. Lori promised she'd send word to Corvus every two days. Just in case we didn't come back.
Then we set off.
Day one, smooth enough to raise suspicion. Day two hit hard. Fever ripped through Bowmore, Balgus, and me like a curse. We were sweating ghosts and barely standing. I saw stars when I blinked. Called that exhaustion.
Day three, we pushed through the fever. Portaged through thick brush and silence. Then we saw it-a blimp, torn to pieces, dangling in the trees like a bad dream stitched together with vines. Heard someone calling for help. Not loud, just desperate.
Balgus sent up his familiar to take a peek. Lori rallied the team. I circled the canoes, laid a perimeter-because something in my gut told me the dead weren't done with us yet.
I was right.
Just as I started to climb, they came. Undead things with hunger in their eyes and rot in their souls. We rolled into the fight like old pros. Lori turned most of them-holy light burning through the jungle fog. I cleaved through the rest like they owed me money.
Then... silence.
They ran.
That's when I knew we were still in the game. We climbed back to the others, regrouped. Supplies intact. Team whole. Started up the tree again, toward the stern of that shattered blimp in the sky.
And now here I am, lying in this hammock, half-sick, half-sane, wondering what kind of heart beats inside a floating island. And if we'll live long enough to hear it.
