
Taking Flight

Tales
October 8th, 2025
Reading time
On the main deck of the Mandjet, the contingents wait in silent discipline beneath a dappled blue sky. The moment is solemn. Grave, even. Formed into platoons and gathered into regiments, the Tagmata troops stand ready, while above them the copper hull of the escort ship Ox Caa gleams like the chitin of some immense insect. They stare straight ahead, posture rigid, weapons at their sides, arms pinned to their bodies. Not a wrinkle in their uniforms. Not a speck of dust. They are worthy of the moment — and she has made sure of that. In the shadow of the wheelhouse, banners and gonfalons snap in the gusts. Farther away, the Templars’ armor shines under the already fierce morning sun. Yet the air, borne on high-altitude winds, is cold and dry.
Zhen lays a hand on the railing, eyes fixed on the shifting, furious horizon — where, beneath the clouds, the Tumult rumbles; where the pillar of light that flared to life still tears the sky from afar. That is their goal — their destination.
After weeks of deliberation, the Asterion finally gave the go-ahead: the Expeditionary Corps are to investigate the source of the signal. Any attempt by land, however, had been abandoned — the mutagenic currents there deemed far too dangerous. That is why the fleet was called in as reinforcement, to allow the exploration forces to bypass the Tumult from above. To discover whether it was a call… or a trap.
She narrows her eyes and allows herself a faint smile as she senses Zephyr’s presence long before seeing his silhouette breach the clouds. Her swan — wings spread wide — leads the scouting squadron home from their reconnaissance mission. For a moment, she watches them flutter among flocks of skyborne birds, their paper feathers gleaming as they ride the wind. Then she turns to greet them on the deck.
They land one by one on the platform cleared for their arrival. Her squadron. Her Raptors. Their origami wings fold back, crumbling into loose sheets that scatter into the azure like pale petals once they remove the seals she entrusted to them.
‘We’ve flown over the zone, Admiral,’ barks Osoyo, snapping to attention. ‘Tumult winds are stable. Nothing to report.’
Admiral. Zhen still hasn’t grown used to her new title as Rear Admiral of the Asgarthan Navy — though she must admit, it sounds good. Unlike the other commodores, she commands no ship; her status as an Exalt earned her the rank by default.
‘At ease,’ she says, her voice just loud enough to cut through the sting of the wind. ‘Signal the all-clear to the bridge.’
The recruit clicks his heels and departs.
Zhen runs a hand along her Chimera’s neck, fingers brushing its iridescent feathers. The chimera-swan lowers its head onto her shoulder, almost tenderly.
I missed you, old brother.
Her Alter Ego tugs lightly at her tunic with its beak before shaking its head with graceful reproach. Zhen lets out a small laugh, then releases him and turns toward her troops. Osoyo is already launching a flurry of paper heralds that scatter into the wind. Aedyt runs her hand over the damp surface of the gargoyle that accompanied them on their journey. The rest of the Raptors stand at attention, still as statues, like the other Tagmata contingents. The Alterer joins them, taking her place in the honor guard.
The Ouroboros is the first to break through the cloud cover, its circular serpent frame turning slowly like a wheel. Aboard are Admiral Singh and the rest of the High Command. Zhen watches the flagship maneuver above the Screed, its Aerolith core lifting it higher until it hovers geostationary, gleaming in the sun.
Singh and De Graaf are up there.
Then the Wayfarer emerges — one of its balloons, shaped like a clown’s head so huge it’s almost grotesque, bursts through the cloud layer to grin down at them with its painted smile. The floating city, garish and colorful, looks like a carnival — all the more so as a madcap tune drifts through the roaring winds. It’s a patchwork of structures of every size and shape, bright and chaotic, as though a fairground had broken free from gravity itself. Giant balloons shaped like whales and clownfish hold it aloft; gaudy mobiles, orreries, and weather vanes glitter under the sunlight. Massive tents swell like lungs. It’s not a city — it’s a circus. And if not for its scale, it might almost be laughable.
‘Ready to take flight, Admiral?’
Zhen turns toward her old mentor — now her peer. Rear Admiral Gaj gives her a knowing smile before leaning over the balustrade to peer down at the Screed, where grassy ridges peek through the drifting clouds.
‘Always, dear colleague,’ she replies, a hint of amusement in her tone. ‘As are my Raptors.’
Gaj doesn’t seem to hear her, his attention fixed on the crater below.
‘I can see the preparations wrapping up. The exploration ships are being loaded. Departure is near — and with it, a new chapter of the Rediscovery Endeavor. I’m certain you’ll honor your father. A pity he isn’t here to see your consecration.’
Zhen clenches her jaw.
‘In other circumstances, he’d be the one standing here, not me.’
Gaj nods absently, then glances at Zephyr.
‘A part of him is, thanks to you.’
Gaj and her father had been close since their academy days, bound by mutual respect. Zhen swallows back the urge to scream — to confess her guilt, her intentions — but she knows nothing good would come of it. Not here. Not now.
One by one, the exploration ships take position beside the Day Barque in a perfectly timed dance. Signal lights answer the waving of semaphore flags. Just beside them, the Sune bursts through the clouds, scattering them like soap bubbles. Its turbines buzz like swarms of wasps; its kelonic engines make the air tremble as its articulated steel landing struts retract with a grinding click.
Her recruits don’t flinch. Zhen doesn’t even need to look. She knows they stand motionless, focused — every one of them aware of the weight of this moment, of the need to be flawless. They are the spearhead of what’s to come. Mistakes are forbidden — tomorrow as much as today. And competition for distinction will be fierce.
Beyond the Ordis vessels, the flotilla teems with other flying ships: Bravos leviathan-hunters with their veteran cohorts, Axiom airships flying in tight formation around heavier craft — and a host of skyborne creatures, great and small, summoned by the Muna to accompany the fleet.
Somewhere among them is Basem Falani, whom she’ll have to track down later. But her thoughts scatter as another ship rises from the clouds.
Mesektet.
The Night Barque gleams in the sunlight like a funerary monument, a tomb that seems to absorb the very light that touches it. It is a grave — and the indelible mark of the infamy her father left behind. The crime scene.
Zhen had gone there once, to pay her respects to the dead, to recover what remained of her mother’s body. She hadn’t had time to dig deeper. Yet that is where the secrets lie buried — where she must return, if she ever hopes to find the truth.
Zephyr trumpets softly beside her, and she places a calming hand against his chest. She will have the chance to set foot there again during their odyssey. And if that chance slips away, she can always ask Gaj to request authorization from Rear Admiral Amiens…
Little sister…
Zhen inhales deeply and straightens her stance. All around the Mandjet, smaller vessels cluster around the larger carriers — trawlers where determined crews prepare the arsenal for the hunt: grapnels, nets, harpoons. Swarms ready to strike the first Leviathans that cross their path. Wasps, poised to sting any beast that dares threaten their convoy.
Gaj straightens, satisfaction in his voice.
‘All ships appear accounted for,’ he says, turning toward her. ‘The hour of migration has come. If you would, my dear?’
Zhen touches her Rhombus, feeling her mind link into the Gestalt. She filters out the thousands of voices coursing through the hive mind’s static. Her first order goes to her squadron — tradition must be honored. As one, her Raptors snap to attention, pressing their Glyphs to their chests like medals. Instantly, paper wings unfurl from their shoulder blades and spread toward the heavens in salute. Her second command ripples through the main channel, reaching every communications officer across the bridges.
Full ahead.
One by one, the ships of the Asgarthan armada begin to move. Mesektet leads, under Amiens’ command. Then the Ouroboros, carrying the High Admiral. The Wayfarer and the rest of the flotilla follow. The Mandjet brings up the rear, covering their advance.
They are leaving the City of Scholars behind. Before them stretches a sea of clouds — churning and vast — masking the expanse of the Tumult like foam conceals the abyss.
Zhen fixes her gaze on the pillar of light, its brilliance rivaling the sun itself.
Full ahead — toward hope… or peril.