#entry 21

It was all she had known for so long that she had lost track of how long she had been trapped within the Void. Time had no meaning and no measure. Devour or be devoured was the only immutable law of the Thirteenth. Death was a fate she could accept–embrace, even–but to live on as a fragment trapped in another’s body as a conglomeration of forgotten souls was not. So the succubus disposed of the few Voidsent foolish enough to challenge her without prejudice, devouring their lives and growing more powerful with each one. So what if she lost a bit more of herself each time? What did it matter? Was that really such a bad thing? What use was sanity here? What good in being herself? At least it was a brief, hollow relief from the hunger. But the darkness, there was no relief from that. Not until, without warning, that fateful day came. Light, blinding and brilliant, burning and insufferable after so long in the pitch, a portal tearing itself through the blackness. Something unignorable called to her from beyond, beckoned and invited her to come through, tugged at her body and soul. Or maybe it was just the ravenous hunger within her, drawn to that world shining with aether on the other side, so instinctual it moved her body without her own volition. She couldn’t be certain. There was very little she could be certain of anymore. The only thing she did know–had decided–was that the portal was for her. Other creatures were drawn to the light like moths to a flame, starving and desperate, clambering for escape from their eternal Hell. But she fought them tooth and nail, and as always in the Void, the superior demon triumphed. She clawed her way out over their bodies, through the rift and into a dizzying, overstimulating world of light and life and sustenance. Where or when she was didn’t matter. No such thoughts occurred to her now. She only had one drive, one urge: Feed. Whoever had been foolish enough to open the Voidgate stood before her, brimming with aether like a beacon in the night. She pounced on him without hesitation and she was intent on making sure there would be no fighting back, her vicious claws swiping toward his face, rending flesh and leaving his visage a bloodied mess. The mage crumpled to the floor with her atop him, straddling him and siphoning the very lifeforce from his body to sate herself. So lost was she in the hedonistic decadence of a proper meal of aether at last, she was not prepared for what came next. But the mage, he had been prepared for her. He had managed to recover from his mauling just in time to spring his trap before his fate was sealed. She was so focused in her single-minded, feral pursuit of her prey that she had failed to notice the arcane circle and sigils carved into the floor beneath her. He triggered his spell, incorporeal bonds of aether winding around her limbs and ripping her off him, holding her in place. She struggled, thrashing and baring her sharp teeth like a wild animal, but she could not break free, and he wasn’t going to wait long enough to afford her the chance. He pushed himself to his feet, the lifeblood seeping from his face dripping to the floor and pooling into the ritual circle etched there, triggering the spell. The runes glowed to life with aether, and she instantly knew what was happening, but it was too late. The Voidsent was bound to her new master, their aether and destinies irrevocably interwoven. “You…” he began, voice dark and deep, one hand pressing to his wounds and covering half his face. “What is your name?” he commanded, and she was powerless to disobey his will.

She laughed and shook her head at the silly man, hiking her foot onto the top railing and striking a match against her boot. “Ye of so little faith,” she said, lighting the pipe she gripped in her teeth. “I swell with pride at the confidence you bestow upon me,” she said. She winked at the elezen who was clearly having a difficult time seeming casual.

The vessel listed slightly larboard, shoved by another strong pulse of frigid wind. The ship compensated for it and gracefully corrected itself level again. Raven had been easing his grip on the railing, testing his fear against the confidence he had in the ship and it’s captain, but he latched on again. He screwed his eyes tight and fought his instinct to panic.

He could have stayed below decks, of course. Safe and sound in his cabin, the automatic stabilization systems rendering him completely ignorant of any motion the ship encountered. It was his fear that convinced him to do otherwise. It was foolish, he thought, that a man should avoid that which terrifies him. He was a knight, by the Fury, and no stranger to the horrors of war. He’d faced man, beast, and dragon with steel in his hand and ice in his veins. On those bloody fields his fears only served to drive him forward, to challenge himself against unlikely victory.

Flying, however, was an adversary he could not bring himself to face with a steady hand.

Perilous looked at her employer, tapping the tip of her pipe against her lip as she considered. She knew Raven was no coward, had heard about his victories during the dragon wars and trusted her own instincts on the matter. He was no coward, she knew that. Still...“Had yerself a bad experience,” she said, more of a statement than question. Raven nodded without looking up.

“Aye,” said Captain Cloud. “Reckon you’ve seen your share of scary stuff. Heard the stories.” She lowered her voice and put her hand on Raven’s shoulder, “Cryin shame about your folks, Navigator lay them in peace.” She felt his shoulder stiffen and then sag slightly beneath her hand and she squeezed. “Point, bein, m’Lord, that you’ve come too far through too much fuckin’ mess to let the bleedin wind turn ya white...beggin yer pardon.”

She was right, of course, and Raven knew it. But the divide between ‘knowing the path’ and ‘walking the path’, at least in this case, seemed uncrossable. He simply nodded.

“C’mere,” she said. Her voice sounded further away and Raven turned to see that she’d stepped away from the side rail and toward the pointed bow. She stood there at the edge of the ship where the railing sank into the deck, leaving nothing between herself and the open air but a few feet of wood..

Raven looked at her with wide eyes, his expression painted more with disbelief than with fear. “What in the hells are you doing?! Get away from the edge, you fool!”

Perilous Cloud responded by extending a finger, pointing at the deck. “Ain’t askin. It’s what you need and ye know it.”

He did know it, but every ounce of his instinct fought against the notion. He felt it holding him to the railing, heard it plead, beg, order him to stay. Raven growled to himself. Enough, he screamed into his head, drowning out the voice of fear. He stared at his hands and forced his fingers to loosen their grip and, before he could change his mind, raised his chin and walked slowly toward the captain.

Once he was in reach, Captain Cloud snatched ahold of Raven’s arm and pulled him to her side, edging over slightly to make room.  Admirably, Raven resisted the urge to yelp, but now that he looked out, seeing more sky than boat, the clouds rushing by, the airship version of foam against a prow, he panicked. “Steady on, boss,” Perilous said, clamping him against herself to keep him still.

As his breathing slowed she relaxed her grip. He became still and calm. His legs began to loosen and accept the rocking of the ship. Even when another gust blew, Raven remained still, only shifting against the wind to compensate.

Perilous Cloud smiled widely and plucked the pipe from her mouth and puffed out a thick, sweet cloud of smoke. She pushed out her chest, filling her lungs with the crisp virgin air of the free skies. “See, now? Isn’t it wonderful? The clouds at yer feet, the wind in yer hair? The smell of freedom and adventure?”

“No, I hate this,” he replied immediately.