*Trigger warning: References to suicidal ideation.

When he rose in the morning, he could feel the river slipping past his house like a silver shadow. As he prepared to leave for another day of backbreaking work in the shipyards, he could hear the water of the river, Jolin, outside his window in the distance. The cool, dark waters flowed through the town of Five Down where he stayed. As he tackled his morning’s work, he could see it glitter in the sunrise.

He shook his head. Not today. Today he would regain his wings. He had been working the shipyards for six months now, and had gained a reputation as dependable. It would all work out. When there was finally a break in the work, he straightened his already impeccably starched shirt and slipped on board the airship the Dancing Phoenix.

Most of the airmen gave him nods or cheery greetings as they prepped for departure. He was familiar with the layout of this particular ship and made his way to the captain’s quarters. “Pardon me, Captain Holberg, sir?” he knocked.

A gruff voice answered “Come in.”

He opened the door and stepped inside. The captain, a grizzled barrel of a man looked up from his desk. He was working on his log.

“I was told to inform you that all the cargo has been secured. You are cleared for takeoff at any time.” His hands began to drift into the position for a military rest, but he fought them back down to his sides.

“Thank you for telling me, Park. You may go.” The captain continued to write in his log.

Jaehyun waited. “Sir?”

“Have something to say?” Captain Holberg tugged his spectacles a bit lower so he could eye Jaehyun over their rims.

“Sir, is the Dancing Phoenix in need of an able-bodied crewman? If so, I would like to put myself in your service.”

Captain Holberg now sat back. “Have you had any experience on an airship, son?” Jaehyun’s heart sunk a little. The question was polite. He could see in the man’s eyes that he already knew the answer to these questions and was starting to weigh the value of adding Jaehyun to his crew.

“Yes, sir. Nearly fifteen years’ worth of experience. I have trained in all roles and I can fly anything I put my hand to.”

“Please take me,” he begged silently though he kept an impassive expression.

Captain Holberg scratched his beard. “Jaehyun Park…the name seems familiar. You wouldn’t happen to be related to Lord Park of Selivnia, would you?”

“No, sir.” Jaehyun willed himself to stillness and swallowed past the stabbing ache in his chest as he lied. Not anymore.

The humming of the engines was the only sound as the two men eyed each other. Jaehyun had been working the docks at Five Down for some months now. All of the captains knew him on sight. He was a hard worker and kept his head down. Even so, there were some things that he could not hide—his military bearing and orderliness with all tasks, and his speech indicated a far nobler origin than that of a lowly dock worker. It could be bad for business. Captain Holberg maintained eye contact, then blinked. Jaehyun knew the answer before the man said anything.

“I’m sorry, Jaehyun,” the captain sighed, lowering his pen. “You’re an excellent dock hand and I’ve never doubted your work skills, but our ship roster is full up. We just don’t need you this time, lad. But I’ll let you know when we have an opening…”

“Sir!” Jaehyun interrupted. “If not you, then perhaps you know of other opportunities? Could you put in a word?”

“ ’Fraid not, Park. I’m sorry.” And that was that.

Six months down the drain. He could almost feel the cool waters of the river rolling over his face as he headed back down to the dock. His hopes to fly took off with the airship Phoenix. If he could not fly, who was he? What good was he?

The remainder of the day passed by in a blur, and still the river flowed as soothing as a lullaby in the back of his mind. He received his wages—barely enough for room and board. He tried to ignore the thought of the dark waters as he headed into town. When the rain started and turned the river into a creamy froth in the distance, he pulled up his collar and soldiered on.

Instead of heading to his usual boarding house, he headed to the Tipsy Eagle—a shady bar with an excellent selection of alcohol. That night the bar was packed. He did not recognize any of the patrons there. Relieved, he sank onto a stool.

“What’ll it be, Mr. Park?” The barmaid smiled at him. He could not remember her name, but it did not matter now.

“Your strongest liquor, please.”

She raised an eyebrow. This was not his usual order. “That’ll be eight brass a mug.”

“That’s fine.” He slapped a silver piece onto the counter. “Please keep them coming until I run out of money.”

“You’ve got it.” In a matter of seconds, she had stashed the coin away and set a shot glass of the darkest liquor he had ever seen in front of him. It was smooth going down and burned like embers in his belly. Too bad he would not get a second chance to try it again. He might as well make the most of it. It seemed the river would finally win tonight.

Rock bottom. It was not a term he had ever given thought to until six months ago. Now, it was his existence, but soon no more. He had decided to finally find a home at the river’s bottom. It would end tonight.

“Cheers to me!’ he downed the shop and tapped his glass for another.

He stopped counting the shots after his third glass. Instead, he spent the time combing through his memories. A once-decorated military pilot, the eldest son of a lord, the loving brother to much younger twin sisters, the dedicated lover of a beautiful dancer, respect, money…He had only ever done what was right. So, why did it all go wrong?

He shook his head to scatter the memory fragments piecing themselves together. Not again. He had gone through them too many times. Enough was enough.

The glasses slipped by in a blur. How many drinks was that now? How many more until everything went dark? There was a part of him looking forward to the black beyond.

On the other side of the bar, a fight had broken out and quickly escalated. In seconds, the entirety of the bar was caught in the throes of alcohol-induced violence. And still he sat, drinking by himself.

                                                ________________________

From the other side of the room, she watched him down shot after shot of Galefire Whiskey. At first glance, the man looked so complete, so distinguished amongst the common rabble of the bar. It was after the second glance that she saw could see the fine cracks running through his façade. This was no ordinary man. He had to be the one to command the relic--a broken man for an incomplete ship.

He was of average height and well-built with perfect posture. He kept his dark hair short and combed back—a nod to his military days with not a wrinkle anywhere on his clothing. Were he not in despair, his pale, round race would have a residual pleasantness. As it was, his dark eyes bored holes into the bar counter.

In the midst of all that chaos, he sat—an isle of calm in the storm--shielding his drink from the trouble. She made her way through the turmoil, keeping her eyes focused on him. His cups were emptying and being refilled at an unbelievable speed. It could not be long before he would be out. By the set of his shoulders, she could tell he had made a decision. She had found him just in time.

                                                   ________________

Through the haze of memories and booze, a small figured appeared at his elbow like a ghost. He could barely register anything except that this person was a small female in a cloak. She opened her mouth, but he could not hear a word between the bar fight and the roaring in his head. It was as though the river had leapt from its bed to overtake him.

“Finally!” he sighed as the long-awaited black took him.

                                                  ________________________________

"Captain, are you awake? You're needed on the bridge!"

He jolted awake, then fell back on the cot, groaning under the weight of his pulsating hangover. What happened? The room around him hummed. He was on an airship then. How did he get here?

"Captain?" a woman’s called again over the radio.

He cracked his eyes open. After a second, the blurs resolved themselves into a tangle of pipes and wiring lining the ceiling. Parts of the ceiling had been paneled to cover the innards, but had not been completed. He turned his head. The rest of the room was similarly half done—save for the floor. There was a small door by his feet, another across the room, one chair and a metal cabinet bolted to the wall. The box for the radio was directly by his bed. There were labeled switches and a speaking horn. The labels on the radio were for the Engine Room, Bridge, General and Kitchen. He frowned. There should have been more options. He flipped the switch for General and pushed the button to talk.

“Hello? Who are you?”

“Good morning, Captain. I need your assistance. There is a restroom attached to your cabin. Please use it and make your way to the bridge,” she replied, neatly avoiding his question.

He rolled over and attempted to rise again. The door she spoke of led to a small restroom with a commode, standing shower and sink.

“Captain? If you are able, please hurry,” the calm voice spoke again. His face was starting to hurt from all the frowning he was doing. Why did she not sound as though things were urgent? He shook himself and stumbled into the restroom. His years of military training kicked in and he emerged from the room within minutes alert without a hair out of place.  

He opened the main door to his room. The blast of warm, humid air took his breath away. He had never seen an airship this incomplete. How did this vessel hold itself together? The engine was deafening and roared like pack of lions. As he was taking all this in, the ship shook. He clutched the railing. There was a small explosion somewhere aft of him. Steam spiraled into the rafters above him.

“Captain? Please make your way to the bridge,” the voice came again, echoing eerily above the roar of the engines. “Follow the lights.” Small lights lining the walkway blinked on starting from his room. The lights led him up some steps to the door of the bridge.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. The view from the bridge took his breath away. Massive windows gave him a fantastic view of the skies surrounding him. The bridge itself was complete and polished. It was beautiful. He stepped up to the wheel—which was moving by itself.

A sharp groan as the ship attempted a turn shook him from his reverie. He hit the radio General line. “Captain here. What exactly is our status? Where are we heading? What happened? And who the devil are you?”

"You must be feeling better, sir. Good," was her only response in the same, bland tone.  

Jaehyun gritted his teeth and braced himself as the ship shook again. The view from the window showed them flying low over the countryside. The ship was sinking lower as he watched. “Answer my questions! What the heck is going on?!?”

“We’ve taken some damage from a pirate attack during last night’s storm. Please take the wheel so that I can stabilize the engines, or we're going to crash harder than I would like.”

“Oh no, you d--!”

“Relinquishing control to the bridge now,” she cut him off. The wheel stopped moving with a loud click.

He took hold of it and felt the ship kick back against his grip. After having been kept from the skies for so long, it felt like he could breathe again. Then he started cataloging points about this ship. “Damage to the rudder system,” he noted, attempting to turn the wheel. Based on the lights from the console, it appeared one of the portside engines was down, and there was a leak on the lower levels.

He hit the radio button again. "You there, report!"

"Not as bad as I thought, sir. We lost our main port side propeller, and our ability to turn. The North is taking on water, so our balance is shot and our front landing gear is jammed. We're going down, sir. Hopefully when you land us, we won't be dead at the end."

Out the window the details of the farmlands below became much clearer. "I see. And what's your name?"

There was a pause. "Navilene Sitara, sir. And I already know you."

“What do you know about me?” he demanded.

"Not the time for it, sir. I’m a little busy ensuring we don’t die," she replied. “How long until impact, sir?

Jaehyun wrestled the North into a shaky turn and did some quick estimates. "I'd say about twenty seconds. You have some serious explaining to do when we get out of this, lady."

"Get us out of this and I'll see what I can do for you."

"Very well. Brace for impact!"