Why did it have to be dragons? It was all Jim could spare time to think as the enormous beast launched them into the air. Behind him, Alia gripped the riding seat with both legs, and his stomach, with both arms… tight. He would have enjoyed her touch if he weren’t afraid for his life, not to mention - suffocating.

“Alia, I can’t breathe,” he wheezed.

Her grip hardly loosened. “It’s either that or I fall to my death. You pick.”

Jim shifted to loosen his diaphragm. “Well, just remember, you suggested it. Not me.” His attempt at humor was met with silence. He couldn’t turn to see, but the burning sensation in the back of his head convinced him she was glaring.

The news of their crew’s survival was nothing short of a miracle. After their transference, Emat had told Jim of the downed ship in the western border of the forest. When asked how he knew this, Emat simply replied, “The dragons told me.”

I’ll have to figure that one out another day, Jim thought to himself as the creature propelled them above the treeline.

The couple had taken a while for Emat to convince, but in Alia’s words, “If riding a dragon means finding my crew, sign me up for the next flight out of here.” She’d sounded bold enough, but riding a fifteen meter long empathic carnivore proved to be unsettling; for both of them.

Below, a blanket of pointed treetops blurred past with terrific speed. The sounds of birds came and went between each beat of the dragon’s wings. The creature seemed distracted as they flew. His huge head would turn as red eyes glanced back at the strangers riding him. Jim could feel the muscles beneath their woven cotton seat tensing.

“Alia, we have to calm ourselves. Remember what Emat said? These things are empathic. You’re freaking him… her… whatever it is out.”

Alia was on the verge of panic. “Oh is that so? I’m freaking HIM out? Before yesterday, I didn’t even think dragons existed. Now, I’m riding one. If he gets hungry… what’s to say he won’t help himself to a delicious Alia and Jim back snack?”

“Just shut up and calm down!”

Silence.

Ugh. I’ll pay for that one later.

***

Their flight continued for nearly an hour. Both were silent for the rest of the ride. Jim knew he had likely burned his last bridge with Alia, but fighting with her was always so easy.

He didn’t enjoy seeing her upset, but he always found a strange draw toward summoning her more “honest” self. For reasons unknown to him, Jim loved her.

The dragon’s wings slowed. Below, treetops rushed toward them. The beast was descending. Suddenly, Jim saw it. In a clearing of broken trees, listed over with a gaping hole in its side and a completely deflated balloon hanging on its skeletal frame like the skin of a starving animal, The Liberator.

As they neared the ground, he began to make out figures scrambling over the surface of the airship. They’d been spotted.

The dragon shrieked as they ascended the last few meters. Men and women were spilling out of the ship, breech rifles trained on the creature. With one final beat of its wings, the dragon settled.

His deep growl was all the motivation Jim and Alia needed. As they quickly slid off, Jim barely had enough time to grab their bags before it leapt into the sky, again knocking him over with a gust of wind.

Dammit all.

The dragon’s piercing scream faded quickly into the distance. Brushing themselves off, the couple turned to face the crew. Every face was covered in dirt and soot. Even through the grime, Jim could see their faces were white with shock.

Finally, one of the crew - Jim recognized him as Harol the gruff lead deckhand - stepped forward. “Captain? Are ya… a spirit?” Jim stole a glance in Alia’s direction. Already, she was standing straight, regal, in charge.

There goes Alia. Here comes Captain Rychist.

“Yes, Harol. It’s me and no, I, we are very much alive.” Silence hung for another few seconds before the entire crew rushed them. At once, the captain was surrounded by astonished crewmen, shaking hands, hugging, laughing.

A hint of jealousy washed over him. In ten seconds, they had received more recognition from her than he had enjoyed over the past few days.

Soon, the crew mingled with the both of them, firing questions off and staring in wide eyed wonder as Jim and Alia did their best to tell the tale.

Suddenly, the crowd hushed as a haggard form stepped out of the massive hole in the side of The Liberator. It took a moment for Jim to recognize him.

Alia broke from the crowd. “Doctor Hanson - Benjamin, you’re alive!”

Ahead of them stood the form of the doctor, but the man had aged twenty years and was hardly recognizable.

Making their way through the crowd, Jim and the captain stopped in front of the tired shell of the man who was Doctor Hanson. Alia was horrified. “By the gods, Benjamin, what happened to you?”

The doctor stared at the ground, his face filled with sorrow. “The Prophetess. She’s what happened. She knew we were coming. Knew everything. She… Captain… we caught him.”

Jim could see the captain was shaken at the state of her mentor, so he asked the question. “Who?”

“The spy. The saboteur.” He practically spat his last words, “The traitor.”

“Who was it, doc?”

“Henry.”

Jim’s heart sank.

***

They made their way through the bowels of The Liberator. Every room slanted unnaturally with the angle of the listed ship. The crew had quickly returned to their duties of reviving the airship as Jim, Captain Rychist, and the Doctor hurried to the brig. Alia’s voice was hushed, “What happened, Benjamin?”

The Doctor, panting, stopped to rest against a cabin door. He was exhausted. The barely greying man of weeks before now looked to be on death’s door. He took another minute to catch his breath.

Finally, he spoke, “He sabotaged the furnace. Some kind of timed explosive. One of the engineers caught him planting the bomb and tried to stop him. Henry was always so good natured. You’d never expect it from him, but…”

The doctor paused to collect himself. “He crushed the poor lad’s skull before he knew what hit him. A couple of the crew witnessed the murder and tried to subdue Henry but… he was another person. He mercilessly broke bones, maimed, and slaughtered anyone who attempted to stop him. It was pure evil, Alia.”

The captain and Jim both were speechless. Finally, the doctor continued, “Thankfully, Harol was able to use his awakened powers to knock him out.” Jim recalled Alia had spoken of fire awakened possessing such a power.

Benjamin Hanson motioned toward the missing section of the ship. “They barely escaped the engineering deck when the bomb went off. The furnace and both boilers were obliterated. We barely had enough steam to crash land in the forest.”

Forlorn, the Doctor pointed down the hall. “After that, four dead crewman later, we chained Henry up in the brig. That’s when this happened.” The doctor glanced down at his withered form.

Doctor Hanson sighed as he inspected the ancient shell that was now his body. The captain held the old man’s wrinkled hands. “Benjamin, I don’t understand. How?”

The doctor shivered as he recalled the memory, “As you know, we earth awakened can protect one’s mind and clear it of outside influence. It’s how I released you and Henry all those years ago from her control. Well, I reached into his mind to discover the source of his duplicity.”

Doctor Hanson, normally poised and serious, broke into tears. “She took it from me, Alia. She took my powers, my life, and what remained of my years. I thought I’d removed her from his mind years ago, but I was fooled. Somehow, she was there, waiting for me. Henry is gone. All that remains is the Prophetess.”

Captain Rychist held the trembling old man. “This isn’t over, Benjamin. We’ll find a way to fix you. Until then, I need to see Henry… or whoever, whatever he is now.” Reluctantly, the doctor nodded and continued down the hall at a slow hobble.

They made their way down one more hallway. The brig was a hardly used, half rusted room of only a couple dozen square meters with an equally worn down door. Jim and Captain Rychist made their way inside.

The doctor decided, one experience was enough and excused himself to his quarters, making haste down the hallway. Under the faint glow of a dimmed gaslight, the hulking figure of Henry sat. His metallic body conformed unnaturally to a sole metal chair, entirely covered, two layers thick in steel chain.

The sight was shocking, but it was the glow that caught their attention. From every crevice and opening, Henry’s usual blue glow shone blood red. His artificial eyes were filled with a very human hate. Jim could feel the machine’s fury as he gazed down on them. This wasn’t the Henry he knew.

A memory triggered in Jim’s mind. He recalled the moments after their fight aboard the sloop. During the engagement, Henry was practically another person. His bloodlust had set Jim on edge then. Most disturbing was his odd shade of purple.

Jim whispered to himself, “Red and blue...makes purple.” Alia glanced at him questioningly.

“Alia...uhh, captain. Something’s wrong. We need to get out of here. I’ve seen him like this before.” The captain didn’t turn from her gaze on the clockwork man.

“You’re damn right something’s wrong. That hideous witch, sitting comfortable in some throne room back in Golden Spire has somehow grabbed hold of his soul. I want to know how we missed it all these years.” Jim’s skin was crawling, but Alia stepped forward, defiantly.

“I know you’re in there, you stupid b-”

It was physically impossible, but the reality of it unfolded in front of Jim’s eyes. In an instant, Henry’s chains were broken. The red glowing being’s arms burst through them like so many pieces of twine.

Before a single link struck the ground, Henry had clasped Alia’s skull in his hands. She opened her mouth to scream.

Time ground to a near standstill. The room was a chaotic mess of flying chain links. One had struck the gaslight. Shattered glass surrounded a very slowly expanding fireball where the light once sat, quietly burning.

Jim sprinted, in slow motion, toward Henry. The red glow was especially bright as malice poured forth from his eyes. In moments, despite the slow passage of time, he would crush Alia’s skull and Jim would be alone.

Time was moving slowly, but Jim seemed to move outside of its constraints. Finally, he reached the possessed Henry. Acting on instinct, he placed one hand on Henry and the other on Alia.

Then, time didn’t crawl.

It stopped.

Jim was again suspended in nothingness. Unlike his transference with Emat, he was not in a safe place. Black miasma swirled all around. The smell of sulfur and decay threatened to overwhelm him.

Each wisp sent a cold chill through his body. He could feel a presence… her presence. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew it was the Prophetess.

Jim shouted into the void, “I know you’re there. Show yourself, witch!”

Low chanting filled the air. It grew and grew until the sound rippled through the mist. Thousands upon thousands of voices droned hymns of a long lost language. With each verse, Jim could feel despair taking hold of his soul.

He could feel that every voice belonged to an individual, each sounding slightly different. More troubling though, every one of them wanted to break his will. Priests. Suddenly, the noise ceased. He could feel a someone in the void with him. Wind rushed by.

Ahead.

Behind.

Beside.

Something was darting around him in the darkness, closing on him as a wolf to its prey. He was helpless to stop it… whatever it was. Still, the same instinct that had saved him in the desert and on the ship directed him again.

Still, knowing little of his powers, he closed his eyes and willed the darkness away. Suddenly, the mist dissolved and the darkness faded to a slightly less dreary grey.

“Hello, Jim.”

From behind him, the voice of a young woman cut through the stale air. He’d never heard her before yet, the sound was familiar. He turned to face her, but what he saw, he was not prepared for.

The woman was beautiful. No, beautiful doesn’t begin to describe it. Her hair spilled down the fronts and backs of her shoulders in a brilliant waterfall of platinum.

She looked almost porcelain. Her skin was the fairest he’d ever seen. Most people in the cities and deserts of Ruin were darkened permanently by the unforgiving sun. Even the wealthiest among them could not hope to completely escape its effect.

A flowing dress of sky blue silk followed the length of her body and dissolved into the mist. Her inhuman beauty ended at her eyes though. As he stared into them, behind grey-white iris’ were pools of anger and cruelty. It was like looking into a portal to hell.

Despite the chill running down his spine, he couldn’t pull his gaze. He was fixated on her. Staring. Unmoving. Unable.

A perfect set of teeth revealed themselves behind ruby lips as the woman spoke, “Well, well. A prime of earth. It’s been some time. Do you know who I am?”

She circled around him slowly, never pulling her stone gaze from his eyes. He tried to concentrate. “Yes. You’re the Prophetess. And the one responsible for the mess we’re in now.”

The Prophetess ran her fingers across Jim’s broad shoulders as she continued to circle him. He too appeared to be in his prime in the realm of the mind.

The Prophetess giggled, “Oh no, my tall, dark, and handsome young man. It is they who hold the entirety of responsibility. Your friends consider themselves free, liberators, righteous. Hah! Tell that to the dozens of my vessels they have plundered or the countless acolytes they have uprooted and turned against my teachings.”

“I don’t really give a damn about you OR your teachings. I only care about my friends. Release them or-”

“Or what?” The Prophetess laughed. Her laugh seemed to echo from invisible walls in the room of his mind. “You’ll kill me? You have no power here. All minds are open to me. I do as I will.”

Suddenly, the fog dissolved away. Jim was standing on solid ground now. Around him, a room of dank moss covered stone trapped air laden with mildew. He was in a dungeon.

From behind him, Jim heard a moan, and breathing. Spinning around, he spotted two figures, each secured to large wooden chairs with enormous irons. The first was a man he had never seen before.

He was nearly as light skinned as the Prophetess. His thick blond hair was cut in a military crew cut. However, his expression was not one of warrior’s determination but rather, complete defeat. His head tilted to the side as if he had lost the will to even lift it.

What Jim saw next caused his heart to skip a beat. In the other chair was a woman. Her head dipped forward, allowing her coal black hair to hang down to her knees. He could tell right away, “Alia!”

Jim tried to run to her but moved in slow motion. He felt as if he was knee deep in mud. From behind him, the Prophetess laughed.

“Don’t bother, Jim. They are mine now. Here, you have no control. And now,” the woman walked around Jim’s suspended body and pointed to the side of the small chamber, “I’ve prepared a chair for you.”

Jim tried to move, but each attempt to escape her slowed him even more. He was helpless. “You see, Jim, it has been a generation since the last prime of earth graced my realm. A man of your power could sustain me for, well… years. Don’t worry though. The experience is unforgettable.”

Her dress fell to the floor, revealing a body in every way as perfect as her face. He had no feelings of desire though. Only anger.

From behind him, he heard a small voice. “Jim. I’m sorry.” It was the same pitiful voice from the valley. He remembered Alia’s broken body lying mangled. He remembered the pain of almost losing her. Most importantly, he remembered that he would do anything to save her.

The Prophetess reached out to grab him. Her face was dark with evil intent. Despite her physical beauty, she was the ugliest thing he had ever seen. Without thinking, Jim shot his arm out. Strong hands grabbed the throat of the unsuspecting witch.

A flash of images, memories, passed between them. Tremendous airship battles. A field of dead soldiers, somehow drowned. A lone, young woman marching across the dunes, naked yet unphased by the sun’s relentless punishment. Crying. So much pain.

The images faded after a moment. The woman, so strong just seconds before was now helpless in his grip. “Release me or die.” She had aged a hundred years. In front of him was an old woman, still seething with hatred. Jim almost felt pity for her.

Looking into her eyes, he knew she was not capable of such things as pity, mercy, compassion. He’d only seen a glimpse, but her life was one of torment and sadness. All that remained of her were the worst things humanity had to offer. He stared at her rapidly aging form as she struggled against him. Finally, he willed her away. “This is my mind… and you are not welcome here.”

Suddenly, the walls around them crumbled, and the woman was sucked into the void beyond. Her screams faded as the darkness took her.

Jim turned to release Alia and the strange man, but the dungeon was suddenly replaced by familiar walls. They were back in the brig.

He was on the floor. Pain in the back of his head hinted at a fall. Rising slowly, Jim stumbled forward. He was caught by large brass hands. “Jim, how… it isn’t possible.” He looked up. It was Henry. His glow was a healthy blue again. Jim had done it. Whatever it was.

From behind him, another voice spoke softly, “Jim, how… How did you...” It was the captain.

Jim rushed to her side. She was weaving back and forth, holding her head. “Alia, I mean, captain. Are you ok?”

“My head’s killing me. I-” She collapsed into his arms. Blood seeped from both ears, both eyes, and her nose. Placing his hand on her, he used his power to probe her injuries.

Henry’s voice was forlorn, “Oh gods. I killed her. I tried to resist the Prophetess, but -”

Jim snapped at Henry, “Quiet!” His awakened powers confirmed it. “She’s not dead, Henry. She will be soon if I can’t take it from her though.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yes. I’ve done it once before.” Jim quieted his mind and concentrated. He remembered the cave and… the pain.

This is going to hurt like hell.