“Shit,” Captain Jennings hissed as she saw not only the Manoans running up the docks of the marina, but also the Foxtrot creeping out from behind the peninsula, where the willowy trees draped in their mosses had obscured its shape. 

She then turned to the anchormen. “Raise the anchor, now!”

She then looked to Elodie. “Let the helmsman know that we’ve got company, and to make it quick!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” Elodie saluted her, and then ran faster than she ever had before to the bridge. 

The bridge was the highest deck of the Albatross, with all the sails to the front, and of course the steering wheel. There was a section of railing and a spyglass mounted to a section of it near the helmsman, to better identify what was ahead or what was in the stars. 

Eric, the helmsman, was a younger man, not quite so young as Elodie and her friends, but young enough to still have trouble growing a beard. He was a bit more of your typical naval cadet than the rough-hewn sailor, and spoke like an educated man. Elodie supposed him the charming sort, the kind of man that once he returned from his tour that she might look to for marriage—if he was a bit old. But a bit old was so much better than very old.

He smiled when she approached. “Ah, Elodie, do you have a message?”

She grabbed the railing as she careened to a stop. “We’ve got pursuers, both land and sea!”

He looked first to the marina—where the Manoan guards were almost to their dock. Then he looked in the direction of the peninsula, the Foxtrot clear as day now.

The smile fell away from his face.

“Aye-aye, hang on.” 

He spun the wheel, and the ship turned out of the port. Then he sharply twisted it up, the crystal lanterns all around the Albatross glowing as he did so.

It was happening, Elodie realized as she clung onto the railing and pulled herself off of the steps. The Albatross was flying.

Not just skimming the sea-foam, to make an easier trip. 

No, they were leaving the ocean and the land behind, taking up towards endless sky.

Elodie couldn’t help but let out a delighted laugh as the wind whipped at her clothes and hair, as she felt a shifting in her stomach she’d never felt before. There was nothing so wondrous, so exhilarating as truly flying!

The Foxtrot took to the skies as well, albeit not as quickly or as high as the Albatross had, the Albatross still going higher. 

Captain Jennings, Kas, Jade, Carina, and Ventus all ran up the stairs as the Albatross reached its peak.

“Good work, Mr. Malory,” Captain Jennings declared as she clapped Eric’s shoulder. “I have Mr. Heyin managing the cannons below. Hopefully we can win a commission today.”

Eric nodded, and swiveled the ship’s direction, turning back toward the Foxtrot. 

The skies were ablaze and the floorboards rumbled beneath her feet, and it was all Elodie could do to hold on. 

So many cannonballs flew from the decks below toward the Foxtrot, leaving behind trails in the form of plumes of smoke, staining the twilight sky. There was something so awful, yet so glorious about it.

Perhaps all violence was like this, Elodie supposed. Like how her swordplay reminded her of a waltz—perhaps it was all so entwined, the brutish and ugly with the exquisite. 

The thought didn’t remain for long, for the volley did not reach its target.

Rather, the Foxtrot danced just out of reach—and headed back toward them, delivering their own volley.

Elodie had to duck, as a cannonball came soaring over the deck—too close for her liking, she decided. 

Captain Jennings frowned. “Mr. Malory, try to get us up higher so the cannons can deliver the shot from above.”

“Aye-aye!” 

With that, they jettisoned up again, and a thrill of dread ran through Elodie’s blood. When she’d read the schematics and read the accounts of sailors, she remembered a grave warning in all of them. The levitation crystals developed by the Manoans were not infinite in their power. They could not go faster or higher forever.

There was a limit and a price to pay for such power.

But Captain Jennings seemed to care not, as the dance repeated, where the Albatross would fire everything on the Foxtrot, the Foxtrot would then avoid it, fire back, and the Albatross would continue higher and faster.

Elodie wasn’t sure how many cycles of this had passed by the time that a pistol shot came from on the deck, its fiery light painting the sails blood red. 

“Blast,” Captain Jennings hissed as she saw the gunshot. “Mr. Heyin’s signaling that we’re out of gunpowder. I knew we should have restocked!”

That was when it happened. Elodie could feel that sinking in her core, and as she looked around, she realized it wasn’t just her imagination. 

The Albatross was starting to descend. 

The Foxtrot swerved around them, sending over another volley that blew through two of the smaller sails, before sinking into the ocean below. It then swerved again around behind them—and it sped up.

To his credit, Eric didn’t act phased by this. He continued to wrestle with the steering wheel, turning the Albatross this way and that—but it was no use. That was the problem with the bigger military ships like the Albatross. The smaller, more ragged caravels like the Foxtrot could outmaneuver them so easily, dance circles all around them while lighting them entirely on fire. And they could dart between their own volleys of canonfire.

Elodie hated to admit it, but she supposed that Captain Reynard had more strategist to him than she might’ve believed. 

Eric pulled them into another turn, a long arc—but he did not continue to swerve. Elodie could hear the raucous shouts from aboard the other pirate ship—and it was getting closer. 

“They’re gaining on us!” Elodie looked over her shoulder, the bile rising in her stomach. “I don’t know if we’re going to make it!”

“Don’t talk like that, it’s not over yet!” Captain Jennings grabbed onto one of the dangling ropes. Still, her grim expression revealed the truth, the worry that belied her shout. 

“But Captain, we’re losing altitude!” Eric pointed out what was obvious. “We can’t keep going like this!”

“We’ll just have to for a little longer, keep her steady.” Captain Jennings looked to Eric.

But they were continuing to lose the power of levitation, the stamina of it was running out. The crystals had dimmed considerably—and if they weren’t careful, they would be snuffed out completely, like a firefly stamped on by a careless, ruthless child. 

“Hang on!” Carina’s shout carried over the winds and tide. She thrust her hands out in front of her, and her eyes and that crystal around her neck began to shine like the moon. Hermetic sigils danced from her fingertips as she twisted her hands, creating spirals like the arcane one carved into her crystal in the air. 

Then it was like a blue sun had overtaken the bridge of the Albatross. Elodie couldn’t see anything but that blue light, even when she shut her eyes. She tried to turn away from it, and felt a pair of bangle-clad arms wrap around her, turning them both away from the omnipresent, ever-shining light. It was a futile gesture—but one that she appreciated all the same. 

Then it was all over in an instant. 

There was darkness, and then Elodie could see again—just in time to see as the Foxtrot exploded in what looked like blue canon-fire. The screams were unearthly, as the smoking heap of the Foxtrot plummeted to the sea. 

That was when Elodie realized that they wouldn’t be far behind.

“HIT THE DECK!” Captain Jennings roared.

Kas pulled Elodie to the ground with him, just as it seemed the deck rose up to meet her. She slammed into the floorboards, but Kas held tight to her as water swelled all around the Albatross and splashed onto the decks. 

Then all was still.

“You alright, darling?” Kas murmured into her ear as she propped herself up on her hands and knees.

“I’m fine,” she huffed, and she turned her head to look at him beside her. “You?”

“I’ve had worse, I suppose.” He looked up, and visibly blanched. “Not much worse, though.”

He rose to his feet, and offered a hand to Elodie, which she accepted. 

That’s when she saw it, too.

There would be no survivors aboard the Foxtrot. Most of the ship had already sunk into the ocean, the unearthly flames extinguished by the ocean water. Only smithereens remained, and she couldn’t see any of the men or sailors, no one struggling to tread water or to cling to what remained of the pirate ship that had stolen her away from Port Augustine. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she murmured. 

“Please try not to get it on my deck, if you can.” Captain Jennings rose from the floor and straightened her coat. She strode over to Carina and pulled her up off the deck. “You alright, lass?”

Carina nodded, eyes wide and wild—which Elodie felt indicated otherwise, but she supposed Carina was the best judge of that matter. Her white dress had gotten completely soaked in the water. 

Ventus approached her and offered her his jacket, placing it over her shoulders as he had to Elodie, not too long ago.

Captain Jennings peered over the side, at what remained of the Foxtrot, or truly, the lackthereof. “Pity. I’d hoped at least the flag remained so we might have more proof to add to our commissions. But my word and honor shall have to be enough.”

She then turned back to Carina. “I believe I’d like to have a word in my quarters with you.”

She then looked up and down the bridge, locking eyes each with the five of them. “All of you.”