At last, the vessel is complete! I call it the Jhoira, after… well, um, you-know-who. I'm dying to turn it on and begin exploring, but a few adjustments need to be made. Can't wander the Multiverse with a leaky ship, and those parts I salvaged weren't the easiest to refurbish. Still, it's done and I can finally take a well-deserved break until I decide to start exploring.

Venser put the pen down. A solid entry, he thought. Closing the leather-bound tome that was his journal, he rose from his chair and wandered, without any direction, around the cluttered workshop.

He was a man now, long out of the swamps of Urborg where he had toiled as a metal scavenger, hating every day. Brown hair flowed untidily out of his scalp, and his features, rough and worn, told myriad tales. He was dressed in his day-to-day clothes of embroidered brown robes, but with his own additions – shining greaves and capped boots made out of Thran tempered steel, bracers of Thran alloy (light and flexible), and pauldrons of dull, but sturdy cast iron. All made by his hand.

But there was one thing that was much, much, more impressive than the armour on his body. Venser turned around and gazed lovingly up at his masterpiece, the ship that was to take him to the unexplored reaches of the Multiverse. To boldly go where no man has ever gone before…

He laid a hand on its gleaming steel hull. It was a sleek design, with a sharp bow and a smooth decking of Thran polished steel. A mast of gleaming metal jutted out of the centre of the vessel, an obligatory gesture to the primitive vessels he had seen on his earlier travels. It, however, was more than just a cosmetic feature – it housed the powerful planeshifter sensor array, designed to detect and monitor the massive waves of turbulent mana the Blind Eternities contains.

The cabin was a round dome of infused glass, designed to provide a barrier to the deadly elements swirling in the space between the planes. A wire conduit ran the rim of the dome, allowing Venser to channel his own mana into the protective dome if in need of extra protection. Inside, a small array of controls allowed him to steer the craft as well as to control the enlarged ambulator he had redesigned and built into the ship – it would allow him, through channelled will and mana, to teleport in planes and 'blink' through the Blind Eternities.

Such a design was, Venser thought, the pinnacle of his work, but it also carried an element of risk. He had not tested this design thoroughly yet – he had plenty of time to test the channelling systems and controls in his own lab, but no actual field testing. Despite having travelled countless miles in the Blind Eternities, he had no idea how much the ship could take. It would have to be a gamble on his part.

Looking over the beautiful craft he was seized by an overwhelming desire to take it and zoom away now. He looked around at his workshop, trying to think of something that he might have missed. In an instant he leapt to his table and grabbed the journal.

At a touch the glass dome melted away, and Venser slid into the cockpit, grabbing his helmet from a nearby hood and jamming it on. Throwing the journal into the backseat, he grabbed at the controls – the instruments lit up at his touch, and as his latent mana flowed into the system the vessel fairly hummed with power.

This was followed by an even louder hum as Venser urged his mana into the conduit. Surging into the capacitor banks and pulsing through the innumerable linked conduits, he felt the mana tearing through the system. His spark hammered away inside of him. He could feel the mana linking up with the array and stretching its touch to his inner spark, and then-

Then the world spun, and Venser felt himself collapsing on the controls, his mind a furious maelstrom of thoughtless thoughts, his senses dulling as the ship tried to pull itself in every direction. Storms of colour lit up the dome as the artificer sunk lower into oblivion, hand still on the conduit. Every nerve in his body screamed with agony and a fierce desire to release himself from the link.

No, no, no, no, no! Venser tried furiously to quell the desire as his consciousness ebbed slowly away. Opening his eyes a fraction he could see the cockpit shaking violently; torrents of colour (mana? Venser idly wondered) streaming past the dome; and himself, still hunched over the controls, gripping tightly onto the controls. Then sheer pain forced his eyes shut once more.

He waited, for as long as he could wait. The shaking never seemed to stop as he was jarred out of his sensed by the violent forces buffeting his craft around in the inky void. He could imagine it himself stranded in the Eternities, like a marooned sailor, doomed without his spark, or worse.

Out of this despair he wished he was on firm land again, dreaming of his time on Dominaria, with Teferi, Jhoira and Jeska working together to fix the time rifts. But then the ugly memories reared their head again – the magnificent but cruel dragon sweeping aside Teferi, Jeska casting herself into the rift…

He blacked out. In the absence of his consciousness the craft stopped shaking. Instead it fell, falling through the inky void and into the blue skies…

The air was warm, but thin. Slowly, groggily, Venser awoke from his blackout, hand still on the controls that bound him to the conduits. He didn't feel much pain, yet there was something nagging him about his current situation.

Then it hit him. The flow of mana had stopped.

Panicking, he willed it forth again, but in his panic he let too much of it connect and the blackness crept around his periphery. Taking deep breaths, he suppressed despair and seized control of the mana.

He moderated it so that he could pilot the craft in the thin air, but not so much as to open up another spatial rift with his spark. Scanning around the dome for a landmass, he settled on a distant shadow on his western side.

The orange glow of the sun warmed Venser as the vessel sped towards the landmass, calming him. All around him small clouds hung in layers. But as he neared his destination he felt a strange sense of foreboding, and realised it when the shadow became visible – a floating landmass of rocky bluffs and soaring desert mountains. He veered the craft away, and suddenly became aware of another shadow, too small to be a landmass, moving close.

Fear tautening in the pit of his stomach, he wheeled the ship up above the landmass, scanning the skies. In a split second he glanced down and saw, with a slight shock, another larger craft rocketing up at him. It soared upwards and swept the Jhoira aside like a ragdoll. Venser fought to regain control as the ship span out of control, and after some strenuous effort, righted it again.

The shadow fell on him again. He looked up and saw the large craft cruising beside him. He could dimly make out two figures seated in the cockpit of the other craft. They seemed to be waving, but not in greeting… they were waving him down. To land!

Venser meekly obeyed. He had no idea what their intentions were, or who they were; indeed, he was a stranger in a strange world. But the size and elegance of their craft astonished and fascinated him. Its sleek form, glowing fins and masterfully sculpted parts all held wonder for him.

The gleaming vessel touched down a small clearing in the rocky landscape. Within moments the other ship settled beside him. Venser settled back in his seat, and blew out a belated breath. Taking off his helmet, he touched the glass and it melted away, and in an instant he was aware of the overwhelming heat. In another second a single drop of sweat dripped onto his lap. There would be more to come.

Venser got up. As he did he was aware a quiet but audible click, like a ratchet catching in a groove. Danger. He turned to face his assailant.

The other man was slim but lithe, dressed in an embroidered vest with white sleeves and baggy brown trousers. He held a short weapon of some sort and had it pointing directly at Venser. Even without knowing what it was the other man was pointing at him with such self-assurance, he knew it would do him no good.

The standoff seemed to last a long time. Then-

"They say that those who devote themselves to study should never pilot an airship," the other man spoke with a clipped accent, slightly regal in composure. "And I have perfect proof right here. Who are you?"

"My name is Venser."

"Venser, is it? And where do you hail from?" The other man continued to train his weapon on him as he interrogated Venser from the wing of his ship.

Venser said the first thing that came to his mind: "Dominaria."

"Dominaria?" The other man sounded puzzled. "That's a place I've never heard of before in this world. What about you, Fran?"

Instantly Venser was aware of another person watching him, but from another angle. He turned very slightly and saw, with some astonishment that other person, who stood aloof near the entry ramp of the craft. She was indescribably beautiful, dressed in exquisite black clothes that were moulded suggestively around her curves. But what amazed him the most were the long ears that stood tall above her head.

"We have travelled many places together, Balthier, and I think you know as much as I do that in our memories no such place have we visited before." The long-eared woman, Fran, spoke with a quiet voice, but it radiated with wisdom. She was clearly older than she looked.

"Rightly said, Fran!" Balthier grinned, showing his pearly-white teeth. "In any case, I'd say we're more of a threat than Venser here." He lowered his weapon, jumped down from his ship. Venser stayed standing in the cockpit of his craft.

"The name's Balthier," The other man offered his hand. Venser clambered down from his ship, which levitated a few inches from the ground. He took Balthier's hand and shook it, albeit a bit warily.

"Are you a mage from some Academy?" Balthier asked. "I only ask because you show such lamentable airmanship."

"You might say that, yes." Venser looked around at his surroundings. "Where am I? I seem to have been blown off course." That was a crafty white lie, but Venser knew he needed as much information as possible.

"You've landed in the grounds of the old Bervenia Palace," Balthier replied, in a matter-of-fact tone. "One of our street-ears in Rabanastre told us of some magical rift that had opened up near here, so here we are."

"You're investigators?" Venser had no idea what Balthier meant by all of that – but he resolved to press on, keeping up his façade.

"Half-true, you might say. We're also looking for the Cache of Glabados…" Balthier suddenly fixed Venser with a cold eye. "Say… you wouldn't be looking for it as well?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Venser answered hastily. A little too hastily.

Balthier made a motion, as if to draw his weapon again, but in a flash Venser willed his mana and warped away from his position. He bounded towards a rock outcrop he had spotted earlier, and appeared there in the blink of an eye.

Safe, Venser thought. Now, let's see to-

"Don't move."

The voice was almost a whisper, but he could hear it as loud as if it were spoken right next to him. He looked down. There, bow taut and aiming straight at him, was the long-eared woman, Fran. Hesitating had been his mistake.

"Now that certainly is a nifty trick," Balthier called, weapon now pointed straight at Venser again. "But as you can see, we've got a few tricks of our own." He smiled again, but with none of the benevolence shown before. "Now, are you after the Cache or not?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Venser repeated.

"Absolutely sure? You look like someone who might know."

"I'm not of this world," Venser blurted out. There was nothing for it now. He must tell the truth, or face a painful battle against persons probably equal to him. "Dominaria is a place far, far away from here. In fact, another plane."

"Another plane? What are you babbling about?"

In the blink of an eye Venser stepped back next to his craft. Balthier's weapon travelled back to him in seconds.

"What I mean is that I know nothing of this world at all. I have travelled here in my latest invention," Venser looked at his craft, and looked back at Balthier, "by accident."

Balthier looked thoughtful, but continued to train his gun on Venser. "I can see now that you're definitely not from anywhere I've been. But why have you come here?"

"Venser shrugged his shoulders. "As I said, I got here by accident. I'm essentially roaming worlds as it is right now-"

At that moment, the capacitors on the Jhoira decided to explode. Filled to the brim with unstable mana and with no room to flow out of (Venser had, in his blackout, accidentally closed the outlets), the mana had no choice but to burst out.

Venser, sensing danger, blinked to the object now hurtling towards him as he flew through the air – the wing of Balthier's craft. Balthier, instinct surging through him, threw himself down onto the sandy ground, avoiding the worst of the blast.

A faint helix of mana sizzled out of the Jhoira as the capacitors cooled down and the unstable mana settled itself in the pristine air. Venser watched with some panic and fascination as his craft was suddenly rendered defunct.

"No!" Venser cried, as he rushed over to the burning craft, pulling out his journal at the cost of some burnt fingers. Balthier watched silently as Venser fought to contain the new flames now licking at the cockpit.

The artificer recalled his basic spells, and within seconds condensed enough moisture from the air to form a jet of water to douse the flames. The fire was put out, but the craft remained defunct.

Venser, disheartened by the loss of his masterpiece, brooded. But help was at hand.

"Without that craft, you cannot leave this world, is that correct?" asked Balthier, warily approaching his side.

"No, I could leave of my own accord," Venser said, through suppressed tears, "but I can't bear to leave my masterpiece here. I shall have to fix it, but how?"

"Come now," Balthier grinned a playful, cheerful smile, and led Venser along by the shoulder. "I know a good mechanic that might be able to help. Why don't you come along with us to Rabanastre?"

At the word 'mechanic', Venser was instantly interested. He allowed himself to be led away from the smoking Jhoira and into the waiting airship.