The first thing Kaelen felt was the wind — sharp, salt-tanged, and carrying the creak of wooden docks swaying in the sky.
Below, far below, the Veil churned: a roiling ocean of pale poison mist, stretching to the horizon like a second sky turned upside down. It moved in slow, hungry swells, swallowing shadows of smaller islands that drifted too low.
Kaelen's boots barely made a sound on the warped planks of Mist's Edge Dock. He kept to the shadows between stacked crates, eyes fixed on the merchant skyship tethered at the far end. A triple-masted beauty with sails stitched from storm-whale hide — and a cargo hold rumored to carry Bone Runes fresh from the deep dig sites.
The Rune he was after wasn't just valuable; it was forbidden.
Two dock guards leaned against a bollard, talking in low voices about the rising Veil. Kaelen slid past them like smoke, the weight of his dagger at his hip a quiet reassurance. The rope bridge to the ship swayed under his step, far too high for comfort. A single misstep would mean falling into the endless white.
Inside the cargo hold, the air grew colder, thick with the metallic tang of old magic. Crates were stacked high, each marked with the sigil of the Bone Markets. One crate was smaller, reinforced with blacksteel bands and carved with warning glyphs.
Kaelen's heartbeat quickened.
He pressed a thin iron pick into the lock. It clicked — almost too easily — and the lid shifted under his hand. Inside lay a shard of weathered bone, etched with swirling lines that pulsed faintly, like the memory of a heartbeat. A Veil Rune.
The moment his fingers brushed it, the rune flared.
Pain seared through his palm, climbing his arm like wildfire. He staggered, biting down a cry as the rune burned into his skin, carving its lines into his flesh. The hold's shadows seemed to ripple, whispering in a voice older than the islands themselves.
> Vessel found.
Kaelen tore his hand back — but it was too late. The rune's glow faded into his veins, and a strange strength coiled inside him. His breathing came fast. He didn't know what he'd just taken, only that every instinct screamed at him to run.
Shouts rang from above. The guards had found the rope bridge swinging.
Kaelen slammed the crate shut, darted through the shadows, and leapt from the ship's railing to a lower dock platform. The wind clawed at him, threatening to fling him into the Veil below. He landed hard, rolled, and kept moving, the stolen magic burning under his skin like a brand.
Somewhere in the distance, a deep rumble rolled through the air — so low it made the dock planks tremble. Kaelen froze, glancing toward the horizon. One of the great islands shifted, just barely… as if something beneath it had stirred.
He swallowed hard. This was more than a simple theft.
It felt like the beginning of an ending.