Chapter 13 · Untitled Chapter

"Rowan!" Lyra's shout hit him a heartbeat before the black spike punched through the platform beneath his boots.

Stone cracked. A dull, wet pulse traveled up his legs and locked his knees. Golden channels flashed beneath the broken surface, half of them dark and bleeding violet sparks.

The spike hadn't woken the ancient grid.

It had jammed a knife into its heart.

Across the basin, the next sky-island tipped five more degrees. Farms slid toward the eastern edge in a green avalanche. Irrigation towers snapped loose. A bell tower tore free and vanished into the clouds.

The island groaned under Rowan's feet.

"Get Pip away from the fracture," he said.

Lyra had one arm around the unconscious storm-antler cub. Smoke curled from Pip's fur. Its small chest rose in shallow, uneven breaths.

"And you?"

"I'm keeping this island in the sky."

"That's the sort of thing people say before dying heroically."

Rowan dropped beside the nearest crack. Heat pushed through his gloves. "Fine. I'm stopping the load path from failing."

"Much better. Almost comforting."

A blue bolt tore across the western ridge.

The royal hunters had regrouped.

Three armored figures emerged through the smoke, their silver plating scorched black.