The scent of saltwater hit Zorn first; sharp, brine soaked, and heavy with the noise of ships slamming against their moorings. The wood of the dock creaked beneath him with each step.
Birds and voices engulfed the air, and the sun felt amazing on his skin. This peace reminded him of when he first fell, back when everything felt serene. Then he remembered Sabrina.
I'm sorry, echoed in his head again. He hung his head in shame, hurt by the fact that she had been an active enemy out to get him.
“Don, we've looked all around this dock. There is no sign of Cinco,” Khor sighed with a groan of exhaustion.
“It's a big dock, Plush. It could be its own city if the people decided it. We just gotta keep an eye out,” Donal replied, patting Khor on the shoulder.
That was new to Zorn. He wasn't used to hearing Khor sound so tired. Donal suddenly stopped, his face becoming serious. Zorn and Khor looked back with curiosity.
“Don, are you okay?” Zorn asked.
Donal quickly brushed it off, shifting back to his giggly, careless self. “I have no money to afford Cinco's prices,” he shrugged with a chuckle.
Khor and Zorn’s eyes widened. Khor facepalmed at the sheer carelessness.
“Do not tell me we came all the way down here for nothing,” Zorn said bluntly.
“No! Not at all! I just need to go to the bank. It's quite a distance from here, so you will just have to go on without me,” Donal said.
Zorn leaned forward, distraught. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “I have to do this alone with Khor?”
Khor shot a glare at him. “What's the problem? Would you rather be completely by yourself? Because I much rather be with my master than you.”
“But I have no idea what I am looking for. I know it's Cinco, but I don't know what he looks like,” Zorn replied.
Khor let out a slow exhale, pushing his hair back as he scanned the rows of ships tied to the docks.
“Cinco could look like anything. Star Rangers reinvent themselves constantly. Different clothes, hair, aura signatures.”
“That's not helping me,” Zorn muttered.
Khor rolled his eyes. “Fine. Look for someone who doesn't fit. Someone whose presence bends the space around them a little. Someone who looks like they walked out of the wrong story.”
“That narrows it down to no one here,” Zorn groaned.
The dock was a swarm of sailors yelling, crates thudding, and ocean wind whipping through ropes and canvas. Everyone looked out of place in their own way.
Donal began backing away, already half turned toward the sloping ramps that led uphill.
“You two will be fine! Khor knows what he's doing. Mostly!”
“Mostly?!” Zorn shouted after him.
But Donal was already trotting off, his cloak and mantle fluttering like he fancied himself a dramatic hero.
Zorn ran a hand down his face. “I swear, that man does this on purpose.”
Khor didn't argue.
Zorn's eyes scanned the area until he felt a surge of energy pulse through his body. It was hot and anxiety-inducing. He gripped his necklace and hunched over.
Khor noticed the change immediately.
“The instability of the current is near. It's driving your senses mad, isn't it?”
Zorn didn’t answer. He gripped his face and shook his head.
“Stars from the Scorpius constellation are sensitive to corruption. Lead the way. Let me know when the pain grows,” Khor instructed.
Zorn held out a shaky finger, pointing ahead.
“I see orange wisps of a stream tapering off into the hills beyond the sand docks,” he winced.
“You're the only one who can see it. Lead me,” Khor said.
Zorn led the way through the busy dock. They eventually reached wooden stairs that climbed a long, grassy hill. That heavy feeling in his chest was back, worse than it had been this morning.
What is this? Could it have been the unstable current all along?
Once they finished scaling the stairs, Zorn fell to his knees in the grass, breathless. Khor stepped ahead and searched for the unstable mystic current. The area suddenly seemed darker. The sun felt distant.
“No sign of Cinco anywhere,” Khor grumbled. “I feel the current myself, so he hasn’t stabilized it yet.”
“Oh, lovely,” Zorn panted with an eye roll.
Zorn pushed himself up and searched the fields. His expression fell. The grass was dying, some of it actively burning. Beyond the scorched patches lay deep cracks in the ground.
Orange and yellow wisps of magic streamed out from the earth, balling up into a chaotic, spiked mass. The wind around the magic was strong and scorching. Bleached bones of deer and other small creatures bordered the epicenter.
“It’s destroying everything!” Zorn gasped.
“That’s what happens when a Mystic Current becomes unstable! It cracks the earth and decimates everything around it!” Khor replied.
The current screamed across the field, ripping the air in wild surges of heat. The orange glow pulsed like a heart about to explode.
Far away, something thundered. Hoofbeats echoed through the air.
The air split.
Riiiiip!
Rumble!
Zorn’s breath hitched in a sharp gasp that perfectly mirrored Khor’s own. The heat from the Mystic Current surged, a blistering wave that forced them to squint against the searing radiance pouring from the widening rift.
The air itself seemed to buckle under the pressure. Reacting before he could even think, Khor lunged forward, planting himself firmly in front of Zorn to shield him from the glare.
A horse forged from light descended through the glare, hooves leaving trails of shimmering particles. It slowed to a graceful halt, its mane flickering like strands of molten glass.
Zorn and Khor watched in awe, unable to utter a word.
A figure dismounted in a single, fluid drop. Black boots hit the scorched ground with the sound of charred grass crunching beneath them.
Crunch!
Only the work of his hands could be seen clearly.
A pistol spun once around his black, leather finger hands with a gold star on the back of the hand. Metal gleamed. A cylinder opened with a sharp, confident click. His other hand reached toward the air, snatching the wispy threads the current expelled.
Magic condensed at his fingertips into bright, sparking spheres the size of bullets, swirling with shifting color. He pressed each one gently into the open chamber.
The pistol accepted them with a soft hum, the metal glowing faintly. As he loaded the final shot, he raised the pistol to his lips. His mouth moved in a quiet ritual.
“Éter salvaje, viento más salvaje
Caos capturado y disciplinado.
Gira la tormenta hacia un plomo sólido, por mi mano, se alimenta el hierro.”
Each word vibrated through the unstable magic. He snapped the chamber closed.
CHNK!
The pistol glowed hot white for a moment, then fell silent. The horse of light stamped once, sending ripples across the ground.
The Star Ranger finally lifted his head toward the blazing current.
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