Hokori set the ancient tome back on its shelf with trembling hands. His constellation?horns flickered, unable to dim fully. Elijah’s seal pulsed once—sharp, electric—before settling again.

  Jax placed a steady hand on Elijah’s shoulder.

  “Stay close, kid.”

  They climbed the stairwell two at a time. The café above was dark now, lanterns snuffed out, chairs overturned. The owner stood by the back door, wringing her hands.

  “I stalled them as long as I could,” she whispered. “But they’re searching every shop on the block.”

  Rodrick nodded. “Thank you.”

  She caught his sleeve.

  “Rodrick… be careful. The Eye doesn’t have many friends left.”

  He didn’t answer. He simply pushed open the back door.

  ---

  The Alley

  Cold air rushed in. The alley behind the café was narrow, littered with crates and broken lanterns. Voices echoed from the street beyond—Veilguard officers barking orders, boots striking pavement in tight formation.

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  Hokori froze.

  “They’re too close.”

  Rodrick scanned the alley.

  “Left path. Stay low. No sudden movements.”

  They slipped out, hugging the shadows.

  ---

  The Street of Silent Lanterns

  The narrow street was lined with hanging lanterns—every one of them dark. Shops were shuttered. Windows barred. Fabella had gone silent.

  A Veilguard patrol marched across the far end of the street.

  Rodrick raised a hand.

  “Get down.”

  They pressed against a wall as the patrol passed. Elijah held his breath. His seal tingled, reacting to the tension in the air.

  One officer paused.

  Turned.

  Looked down the street.

  Elijah’s heart stopped.

  Hokori’s horns flickered.

  Rodrick’s hand tightened on his coat.

  Then a distant shout broke the moment.

  “Sector Three! Report!”

  The officer turned away and followed the others.

  Jacob exhaled shakily.

  “That was too close.”

  Rodrick didn’t slow.

  “Keep moving.”

  ---

  They reached the lower platforms—Fabella’s docks, suspended over the jungle canopy. Airships bobbed gently in their moorings, lanterns swaying in the wind.

  And at the far end, beside the Luna Raven’s gangway, stood Stella.

  Arms folded.

  Eyes sharp.

  Waiting.

  Not pacing.

  Not panicking.

  Just waiting.

  The moment she saw Rodrick, her shoulders dropped—not in relief, but in confirmation.

  He’d come back.

  Of course he had.

  “You’re late,” she said quietly.

  Rodrick allowed himself a breath.

  “Complications.”

  Stella stepped closer, lowering her voice.

  “I saw Veilguard patrols sweep the upper platforms. I kept the others hidden. Engines are warm. Lines are ready. We can lift the second you’re aboard.”

  Rodrick’s expression softened in a way Elijah hadn’t seen before.

  “You did good.”

  Stella shook her head.

  “I wasn’t worried about the ship.”

  A beat.

  A truth.

  Rodrick met her eyes.

  “I know.”

  Shouts erupted from the street above—closer now, boots striking wood.

  Casey leaned over the railing.

  “Captain! They’re almost here!”

  Stella stepped aside, hand brushing Rodrick’s arm as she moved.

  “Go. I’ll cover the gangway.”

  Rodrick didn’t argue.

  He trusted her too much for that.

  “Everyone aboard,” he ordered.