The car came to a complete stop at the edge of the seaport.
Xion remained expressionless.
That was the best mask he had.
Behind the window, the port of Chanda stretched wide beneath a pale morning sky, wrapped in fog, salt wind, coal smoke, and the restless calls of sailors who shouted over the groaning of steel cranes. Bells rang from distant towers. Steam whistles cried from ships waiting along the docks. The sea beyond the harbor was dark blue, almost black near the horizon, where storm clouds gathered like bruises beneath the sun.
The vehicle's engine hissed once before dying down.
Sean sat across from him inside the black buggy, one gloved hand resting over a silver pocket watch. He had been staring at the watch since they left the Midnight Lore library, opening it, closing it, then opening it again, as if time itself had become a bad habit.
Click.
The pocket watch shut.
Sean slipped it into the inner pocket of his robe.
"Ready?" he asked.
His gaze shifted toward Xion.
Not casually.
Sean never looked at anything casually. Even when he blinked, it felt like some owl-shaped scholar inside his skull was taking notes.
Xion stared back.
"Ready for what?"
Sean paused.
"For your first mission."
"I know that part."
"Then why ask?"
"Because every time someone in Midnight Lore says something normal, it means the next ten minutes are going to hurt."
Sean's expression did not change.
"That is not an inaccurate observation."
"Tragic."
Xion opened the buggy door and stepped outside.
Salt wind struck his face immediately.
He stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders until his bones gave a faint pop. The morning air tasted of seafoam, engine smoke, wet rope, tar, and the faint metallic trace of storm mana gathering far off in the northeast.
Before him, a stairwell led upward toward a cruiser ship docked at the pier.
The ship was large, but not royal enough to shout about its own importance. Its paint had once been a clean white and blue, though the colors had faded from salt, rain, and old journeys. Brass railings lined the upper deck. Steel ribs reinforced the hull. Two smokestacks rose from the center, each marked with the symbol of the Luminous Country's maritime authority, a golden sun over blue waves.
Xion stared at it.
His face remained blank.
Inside, Kiryuu Amuka was losing his mind.
Such a sight.
I had only seen these kinds of boats in museums.
No, not even museums.
Those were dead ships, sleeping behind glass and ropes while people pretended history was polite.
This one breathed.
Steam moved through its pipes.
Sailors ran across its deck.
The hull groaned against the tide.
A real cruiser.
A real old-world ship mixed with magic technology.
I can die happy now.
Xion clasped his hands together in silent prayer.
Goddess of Crafting, whoever you are in this world, thank you for letting me witness industrial beauty.
Sean stared at him.
"Are you praying?"
"No."
"You are."
"I am appreciating engineering."
"That is praying for you."
"Maybe."
Sean sighed.
Before either of them could move toward the stairwell, a sharp voice cut through the harbor noise.
"HEY! WATCH IT!"
Xion and Sean both turned.
Near the foot of the boarding stairs, a small girl stood before three ship crewmen.
At first glance, she looked around Xion's age, perhaps a little older, with white hair that shone faintly beneath the morning light. Two fox ears rose from her head, twitching with irritation. Behind her swayed several white tails, each one bristling like an offended brush.
She wore a delicate red and white kimono embroidered with azure flame patterns. The fabric was expensive enough to feed a poor family for a year and impractical enough to announce that whoever dressed her had never been in a street fight.
In her right hand, an azure flame gathered.
It burned without smoke.
Cold and beautiful.
The kind of fire that belonged less to a campfire and more to a shrine.
Xion tilted his head.
Now that I think about it, Sean only mentioned beast-featured humans once.
People from the Northern Domain.
Fox clans. Wolf clans. Snow-cat clans. Beast-blood families that followed old Origins instead of the central Divine Portfolios.
Some were Pathwalkers.
Some simply had inherited traits.
Some were royalty.
Judging by the kimono, flame, and attitude, this one was probably trouble with a title.
"Who's that white-haired fox girl?" Xion asked.
Sean adjusted his sleeve.
"That is Princess Kimiko Vota, third princess of the Northern Domain."
Xion looked at him.
"The person we are protecting?"
"Yes."
Sean's gaze moved toward the gathered crewmen.
"She is the person you must protect with your life."
Xion blinked.
"You said that very casually."
"It is your mission."
"It is my first mission."
"Everyone starts somewhere."
"That somewhere is usually not royal assassination bait."
Sean did not answer.
Which was rude.
Near the boarding stairs, one of the crewmen laughed.
"What'd you say, little princess?"
Kimiko's fox ears flattened.
"What did you call me, bastard?"
The azure flame in her hand grew larger.
The three men surrounded her.
Their clothing looked like ordinary crew uniforms: dark blue coats, rope belts, weathered boots, caps pulled low against the wind. But Xion's eyes narrowed.
They stood wrong.
Not like sailors.
Sailors at a port always kept part of themselves turned toward the sea, the cargo, the ropes, the captain, the ship. These men kept their bodies angled toward exits, toward hands, toward blind spots.
Also, their boots were too clean.
Not new.
Clean.
A sailor's boots carried salt, mud, oil, and deck grime.
These boots had been wiped.
Prepared.
Sean lifted one hand toward his mouth.
"Oh dear," he said softly. "It seems she is starting trouble already."
Xion looked at him.
Sean's eyes remained on the men.
"Guess you can handle this."
Xion was gone.
Dust kicked up where he had stood.
He appeared in front of Princess Kimiko.
The azure flame reflected in his crimson eyes.
Clock ticked once inside his chest.
A thin distortion spread around him like invisible glass.
The first Authority of the False God Pathway, Clock, did not yet allow grand control over time. At his current Array, it existed as perception, intervals, hesitation, and small distortions between intent and impact.
But that was enough.
The closest crewman swung at him.
His fist stopped an inch from Xion's face.
The man's knuckles pressed against an unseen barrier and froze as if the air had decided to become stone.
Kimiko blinked.
Xion did not turn around.
"Please, Princess. Allow me to handle them."
Kimiko's ears twitched.
"Who the heck are you?"
Xion bowed slightly, formal enough to be respectful but not so deep that he stopped watching the men.
"My name is Xion Trinity. I am your assigned bodyguard until you return home after your diplomatic trip."
The men stiffened.
Not at bodyguard.
At Trinity.
Their reactions were small.
A blink.
A twitch near one jaw.
A held breath.
Xion noticed all of it.
Kimiko also noticed, though she hid it with a huff.
"You're my bodyguard?"
"Yes."
"You're tiny."
"I am aware."
"You're younger than me."
"I am also aware."
"You look like you should be doing homework."
"I have many talents."
One of the crewmen pulled a knife.
Xion's eyes slid toward him.
Kimiko looked impressed despite herself. His bow, his calmness, the way he stood between her and danger without making a show of it, all of it seemed to please whatever princess instinct lived inside her royal little skull.
"Fine," Kimiko said, folding her arms. "Make it quick."
Xion smiled faintly.
"Yes, Princess."
The air around him expanded.
Not outward as force.
Outward as delay.
The three men suddenly found themselves inside a thin, nearly invisible sphere of distorted timing. Their bodies tried to move, but movement arrived late. Their thoughts tried to command their limbs, but the interval between decision and action stretched unnaturally.
Their eyes widened.
Xion lifted one hand.
Then he released the delay all at once.
The stored force snapped outward.
The men flew.
One slammed into a stack of coiled rope.
Another crashed into a cargo crate hard enough to crack the wood.
The third rolled across the dock, skidding to a stop near a group of sailors who immediately decided they had never seen him before.
Xion dusted off his hands.
"Done."
Kimiko stared.
The azure flame in her hand slowly went out.
Xion turned and offered her his hand.
"Ready to board, Princess?"
Kimiko stared at his hand.
Then at his face.
Then back at his hand.
For a second, she looked like she wanted to reject it purely out of pride.
Then she took it.
"Yes."
She turned her head.
"Vera, come with me."
A woman stepped forward from near the luggage carriage.
Long brown hair fell down her back, and a pair of cat ears rose elegantly from her head. Her tail swayed behind her, smooth and dark. She wore a maid uniform adapted for travel, black and white with a cloak over the shoulders, and her golden-brown eyes studied everything with quiet alertness.
Vera.
Kimiko's maid.
No.
Not just maid.
Xion noticed the way she carried herself.
Her steps made no sound.
Her left hand stayed close to her sleeve.
Her eyes did not rest on people's faces first, but on their hands, pockets, mouths, and shadows.
A maid.
A bodyguard.
Possibly an assassin.
Also…
Kiryuu's old mind committed treason.
She has curves.
Question. How old is she? Is she single?
Xion's expression remained dead calm as he mentally punched himself.
Get your head out of the gutter. You are ten years old. Also on a mission. Also possibly surrounded by assassins. Focus.
He vaguely nodded at Vera.
Vera looked at him once, then gave a polite bow.
"Sir Xion."
"Just Xion."
"As you wish."
Xion glanced away.
His birthday was in a few days.
He would be eleven before this mission ended if the schedule was accurate.
Eleven.
And already acting as a royal bodyguard on a ship full of strangers, assassins, Pathwalkers, and political secrets.
Kiryuu Amuka had once spent his birthday indoors eating cake while writing chapter outlines.
Xion Trinity apparently got boats, murder plots, and divine paranoia.
Equal trade?
Not even close.
They boarded the ship.
The deck was exactly what Xion hoped and feared.
Wooden boards were bolted over a steel and iron frame. Brass fittings gleamed along the railings. Ropes hung in orderly coils. Sailors moved with the practiced rhythm of people who had learned not to anger the sea. The railing stood around five feet high, high enough to keep careless passengers from falling overboard and low enough to remind them that the ocean had a sense of humor.
Xion walked to the railing and inhaled.
Fresh sea air.
Salt.
Cold wind.
Engine smoke.
And beneath it, something else.
A distant pressure in the northeast.
Storm.
Not natural.
Or not fully natural.
The clouds gathered too slowly at the edges and too quickly in the center, spiraling inward like someone had drawn a thumb across the sky.
Xion's eyes narrowed.
The Tempest Pathway governed storms, oceans, pressure, conquest, rulership, and wrath.
The Southern Kingdom had a Candidate tied to the Tyrant Pathway.
This mission was supposed to be simple.
Escort the Northern Domain princess to the diplomatic meeting.
Protect her from assassins.
Watch for suspicious Pathway activity.
Do not start an international incident.
That last part already seemed fragile.
"So why is this kid here to protect me?"
Kimiko's voice pulled him from the sea.
She stood beside Sean near the center of the deck, arms folded, tails swishing with impatience. Vera stood at her side with luggage in hand.
Kimiko pointed toward Xion.
"He's small."
Sean looked at Xion.
Then at Kimiko.
"That child can use Authority."
Kimiko's ears perked.
"He's a Pathwalker?"
"Yes."
She looked him over again.
This time more seriously.
"What Pathway?"
Sean smiled politely.
"A sensitive one."
Kimiko frowned.
"That is a suspicious answer."
"It is a true one."
"Those are worse."
Xion walked back toward them.
Sean glanced at him before continuing.
"Xion possesses his own Spiritual Authority Core and has already awakened his first Array ability."
Kimiko's interest grew.
"A first Array at that age?"
Vera's eyes shifted slightly.
Not surprise.
Concern.
Sean adjusted his robe.
"There is more about him that would make even certain powers of the world above cautious."
Kimiko stared at him.
"What the hell does that mean?"
The cruiser horn roared.
Deep.
Long.
Loud enough to shake the deck beneath their feet.
Sailors shouted orders. The boarding stairs were pulled away. The anchor chain groaned as it was retracted. Somewhere below deck, the engines began to turn, their rhythm vibrating through the ship's bones.
Sean leaned closer to Kimiko.
Xion did not hear what he said.
Not fully.
Only pieces.
Trinity.
False God.
Six years early.
Characters of Fate.
Do not provoke him.
Kimiko's face changed.
Her eyes widened.
The azure fire that had sparked faintly near her fingers vanished.
She looked at Xion again.
Not at the small boy.
At the anomaly wearing the shape of one.
"Damn," she whispered.
Her right fang caught lightly on her lower lip as she bit her fingernail.
"This makes things a lot more complicated."
Xion pretended not to notice.
He had become very good at pretending.
The ship left Chanda's port.
The city slowly slipped behind them, its white towers fading into fog and morning light. The harbor opened into the sea, and the cruiser moved into darker water.
By late afternoon, the wind had sharpened.
By evening, the sky had changed.
Night rose over the ocean with theatrical arrogance.
Three moons climbed into view.
One red.
One blue.
One yellow.
They hung at different heights, casting strange colors across the waves. Beneath them, thousands of stars glittered like scattered glass. The storm clouds in the northeast had grown thicker, now forming a gray wall that crept toward the ship with silent patience.
Three hundred and twenty-one passengers had boarded.
Xion knew because he counted.
Not by tickets.
By breathing.
Footsteps.
Mana signatures.
Perfume trails.
Heartbeats when he could isolate them.
His senses were sharper than they should have been for his Array. Clock helped, yes, but it was not the only reason.
His Authority Core had changed after the Sanctum of Code.
Regression, Rejection, and Will Breaker were now bound as marks within his left hand, hidden beneath his glove. They did not grant him overwhelming strength. Not yet.
They gave him awareness.
Certain things now felt wrong faster.
Falsehoods had a texture.
Contradictions had a temperature.
Danger left stains in the air.
And on this ship, there were stains everywhere.
Xion walked with Vera as they carried Kimiko's luggage toward the VIP room.
The lower passenger halls were lit by warm lamps set into brass fixtures. Red carpet lined the floor. Oval windows showed the darkening sea. The walls were paneled in polished wood, giving the cruiser a noble warmth that almost hid the steel beneath.
Almost.
Vera spoke as they walked.
"And that covers the main details of the job. Princess Kimiko must attend the diplomatic dinner aboard the ship tonight, remain under guard for the rest of the journey, and arrive safely at the Northern Domain delegation point."
Xion nodded.
"Assassination risk?"
"High."
"Political enemies?"
"Numerous."
"Internal betrayal?"
Vera looked at him.
"Possible."
"Poison?"
"Expected."
"Cursed objects?"
"Possible."
"Monster attack?"
"Less likely."
"Storm Pathway interference?"
Vera's ears twitched.
"Why do you ask?"
Xion looked toward the nearest oval window.
Outside, lightning flickered in the clouds.
Too far away to be thunder.
Close enough to be a warning.
"Just curious."
Vera studied him.
Her golden-brown eyes moved over his face, his posture, his hands, his breathing. She was trying to determine whether this was a child joking, a professional assessing threats, or something worse pretending to be both.
She could not smell a lie on him.
That bothered her.
Cat-blooded servants from the Northern Domain had excellent senses. They could detect fear, sweat changes, blood, certain toxins, and emotional shifts through scent and micro-movement.
Xion gave her nothing clean.
No panic.
No arrogance.
No childish excitement.
Only a cold, quiet focus wrapped around thoughts moving too fast.
"I'm surprised," Vera said softly.
"At what?"
"Someone your age accepting a job this dangerous."
Xion kept walking.
The truth was, Kiryuu was also uncertain.
This job felt unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.
Protecting someone.
Analyzing threats.
Manipulating enemies.
Thinking three steps ahead.
It felt like something Xion Trinity was already good at, not because Kiryuu had learned it, but because the character's nature had been written that way.
Born with a natural understanding of people.
A manipulative mindset.
A killer's calm.
Kiryuu remembered designing pieces of that.
But living inside it was different.
There was no cursor.
No paragraph break.
No reader safely outside the page.
Just choices.
Consequences.
And a princess who would die if he made the wrong move.
Xion's cold gaze remained forward.
"Relax," he said. "I may be young, but I have tricks."
"That does not reassure me."
"It shouldn't."
Vera almost smiled.
They reached the VIP room.
She opened the door.
The room beyond was bright enough to personally offend the shadows.
Crystal lamps glowed along the walls. A large bed covered in white and red silk stood near the center. A writing desk sat beside the window. There were velvet chairs, a private washroom, a wardrobe, and a small shrine shelf decorated with Northern Domain charms shaped like foxfire wisps.
Everything a princess could ask for.
And enough places to hide poison, curses, or an assassin who enjoyed interior design.
Xion stepped inside first.
He looked around.
Bed canopy.
Curtain folds.
Under desk.
Ventilation grate.
Mirror angle.
Window latch.
Carpet edge.
Tea set.
Fruit bowl.
Flower vase.
He walked to the vase and touched one petal.
Fresh.
No powder.
He looked at the fruit.
No visible puncture marks.
He looked at the mirror.
No second reflection.
Good.
For now.
"Set the luggage by the bed," Vera said. "When checking on the princess, be wary of your surroundings. This room should be secure, but should is a dangerous word."
Xion nodded.
Vera left to speak with Kimiko's attendants, and Xion stepped back into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
When he looked left, he saw a man in a black suit.
Black bowler hat.
Black gloves.
Short wavy hair mostly hidden beneath the brim.
His clothes were clean, but a little too plain. Rich enough to fit the ship. Unremarkable enough to vanish in a crowd. His posture was slightly hunched, like a tired traveler.
But his shadow had a delay.
Only half a heartbeat.
Not enough for ordinary eyes.
Enough for Xion.
The man noticed him.
"Excuse me, fella," he said.
His voice was low and rough, like gravel rubbed in a cloth bag.
"Do you happen to know where the bar is?"
Xion smiled with a child's innocence he absolutely did not feel.
"Sure. Go to the end of the hallway, down the stairs, then make a right."
The man tipped his head.
"Much appreciated."
Xion tilted his head.
"How about I join you?"
The man's eyes narrowed.
"No thanks. I don't need a little kid drinking."
Xion leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"I mean, you were going to have the princess drugged, right?"
The hallway became very still. The man's expression did not change. Not much. His pulse did. Xion's senses caught it.
Tick.
Fear.
Then calculation.
Then denial.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Shh."
Xion reached up, grabbed the man's collar, and pulled down sharply.
The man stumbled forward, forced onto one knee so their faces were nearly level.
Xion's crimson eyes looked into his.
"It's okay," Xion whispered. "I'm an assassin too."
The man's pupils tightened.
Xion smiled faintly.
"I'm here to assassinate her. If your plan fails, I claim her head."
Step one.
Make the target believe I am not an obstacle.
Make him believe I am a rival professional.
Pride is easiest to guide when wearing respect as bait.
The man stared at him.
"Why would the buyer hire a kid?"
Xion's face remained blank.
"I think you misunderstand. This is merely the form I acquired."
Lie.
A ridiculous lie.
But a useful one.
The world was full of Pathways, curses, Beast Origins, relics, rituals, reincarnators, false bodies, and monsters wearing human faces. In a world where too many impossibilities existed, a calm lie often survived longer than a frantic truth.
The man believed it just enough.
His shoulders loosened.
"Fine," he said. "Just be ready."
Xion released his collar.
"You got it."
The man walked away.
Xion waved cheerfully until he turned the corner.
Then the smile vanished.
Step one complete.
He walked in the opposite direction and went up to the deck.
The storm had moved closer.
Rain had not yet fallen, but the air was wet and electric. Passengers had begun retreating indoors. Sailors tied down loose ropes and checked the lifeboats. The three moons were partially covered by dark clouds now, their colors bleeding through the storm veil in red, blue, and yellow.
Kimiko stood near the railing with Sean beside her.
Her ears were lowered.
Her tails had gone still.
A cold sweat clung to the back of her neck.
She felt it too.
Not the assassins.
Something beneath them.
The sensation of being hunted by death.
Xion approached.
"I've returned to take the princess to dinner."
Sean turned.
His robe fluttered in the wind.
"Right on time."
He removed his priest robe and wrapped it around Kimiko's shoulders.
The gesture was gentle.
Protective.
Annoyingly gentlemanly.
What a gentleman.
Xion immediately took Kimiko's hand and guided her toward the interior before the first heavy drops of rain struck the deck.
Sean followed.
Thunder rolled across the sea.
The banquet room occupied the middle level of the cruiser.
It was wide, elegant, and crowded.
Golden chandeliers swayed gently above polished tables. Musicians played near the far wall, their melody almost drowned beneath the low conversations of nobles, merchants, diplomats, and wealthy travelers. Oval windows showed the dark sea beyond, flashes of lightning occasionally turning every face in the room pale.
The VIP table sat near the window.
A terrible location for safety. Excellent view. Terrible survival value.
Xion seated Kimiko first, then stood beside her chair, scanning the room.
Sean sat across from her.
Vera remained standing behind Kimiko's right shoulder.
The assassin in the black suit entered from the side door.
He did not look at Xion.
Good.
He had chosen to maintain the game. Xion's gaze moved across the room.
Waiter near the bar.
Left hand tremor.
No.
Nervous civilian.
Woman in violet gloves.
Too many rings.
Poison storage possible.
Man reading a newspaper upside down.
Either assassin or idiot.
Probably assassin.
Female waiter near the drink tray.
Smile too fixed.
Pulse steady.
There.
Assassin number one.
The man in the black suit passed near the bar and brushed two fingers across the stem of a wine glass.
A slight shimmer vanished into the red liquid.
Drug.
Not poison.
At least not immediately fatal.
Something to weaken, induce fever, or make the target easy to relocate.
Xion took out a red fruit from his pocket.
It was small, glossy, and sour enough to make children cry if eaten raw. Celina had given it to him before they left.
"Emergency blood fruit," she had said.
"It sounds fake."
"It is real."
"What does it do?"
"Makes the body expel red fluid resembling blood and induces brief collapse if mana is circulated through the stomach."
"Why would anyone make this?"
"Medical theater, ritual deception, and terrible pranks."
"I respect whoever invented it."
Now Xion took a bite.
The fruit was bitter, sweet, metallic, and hateful.
His expression remained blank.
Inside, his soul made a face.
Sean noticed from across the table.
His eyes lowered to the fruit.
Then closed briefly.
So he's about to make his move.
Sean touched the chain cross beneath his shirt.
Empress of Destiny, protect us from this hazardous storm.
A female waiter approached.
She wore the standard uniform of the ship's restaurant: black dress, white apron, neat hair, polite smile.
"Sorry for the wait," she said. "We've been exhausted with the storm preparations."
She placed the drinks on the table.
Red wine before Kimiko.
Margarita before Sean.
Orange juice before Xion.
Kimiko barely looked at her.
"It's fine."
The waiter left.
Xion waited one breath.
Two.
Three.
Then he swapped the drinks.
Kimiko blinked.
"Hey!"
Xion lifted the red wine and drank it all.
Sean stared.
Vera's eyes widened.
Kimiko's mouth fell open.
The entire table froze as Xion emptied the glass. He set it down. For one second, nothing happened. Then his eyes widened. He coughed. Once. Twice.
Blood spilled from his mouth. Kimiko shot to her feet.
"What the hell?!"
Xion grabbed his throat.
More blood poured between his fingers.
His body swayed.
Then he collapsed to the floor.
The banquet room erupted.
Screams.
Chairs scraping.
Dishes shattering.
Musicians stopping mid-note.
Vera moved first.
She caught Xion before his head struck the floor, lifting him into her arms with surprising strength. Her tail bristled and her eyes sharpened into slits.
"Poison!"
Sean stood immediately, his face pale enough to convince half the room.
"Move," he ordered. "We need space."
Kimiko stared at Xion's bloodstained mouth.
Her face had gone white.
"You idiot," she whispered.
Xion did not move.
His breathing was shallow.
His pulse was controlled.
Step two.
Fake the poisoning.
Make them believe their soft method failed.
Force the assassins to panic.
A panicked assassin makes corrections.
Corrections reveal networks.
The man in the black suit stood near the far side of the banquet room, one hand clenched around a napkin.
His jaw tightened.
He had been tricked.
By a child.
No.
Not a child.
A rival.
That thought saved Xion's lie.
The assassin's pride refused the simpler answer.
He watched Vera carry Xion toward the VIP corridor while Sean followed, one hand already reaching into a hidden compartment of his pocket watch where medicinal herbs had been stored.
Passengers whispered.
Some prayed.
Some accused the kitchen.
Some looked at Kimiko.
Some looked at the wine.
No one noticed the female waiter slip through the side door.
Except Xion.
His eyes remained closed, but Clock measured her footsteps.
Left turn.
Quick pace.
No panic.
Professional.
Good.
The black-suited assassin exhaled slowly.
The poison plan had failed.
The boy might survive.
The princess had not consumed the drink.
The buyer would not accept failure.
So now he needed a direct method.
Kill the boy first, when he least expected it.
Then move on to the princess.
Yes.
What a magnificent plan.
At least, that was what he thought.
In Vera's arms, Xion remained limp.
Blood stained his lips.
His expression was empty.
Inside, his mind was already moving.
Step three.
Let the prey believe it has become the hunter.
Outside the oval windows, rain finally slammed against the glass. The storm swallowed the cruiser whole. And somewhere beneath the sound of thunder, something knocked once from inside the ship's walls. Xion heard it. So did Sean.
Vera's ears twitched.
Kimiko, still standing by the VIP table, slowly turned toward the dark window.
A red flash of lightning lit the sea.
For one instant, reflected in the glass behind her, a shadow stood where no passenger should have been.
Then darkness returned.
The first mission had begun properly.