It took almost ten days for Varian and his friends to build the airship: the clearing was quickly measured out, and they were grateful to find it was just enough open space for them to work. For the first few days, Varian mainly delegated, still unable to work hands-on with his shoulder out. Martin did the brunt of the assembly, taking Beth with him to Tarapai Village in the morning and returning with batches of supplies in the afternoon. By the third day, he completed his final trip and announced that he couldn't go a fourth time; the venders had started to raise their eyebrows, and the occasional patrolman watched him too attentively through the streets.

"Is this how you feel all the time?" he ribbed Varian, to which Varian's only answer was a dark chuckle.

Meanwhile, Shay was busy cutting and sewing, working multiple needles at a time to double her pace. Martin gave uncomfortable glances whenever he walked by, put on edge at the sight of the enchanted needles winding themselves in and out of the cloth. Splitting her concentration had consequences: twice, Shay had to undo an entire panel's worth of stitching, realizing the measurements were wrong. Eventually, she ran out of fabric and began to duplicate, sparks of magic filling the clearing as the airship's envelope began to take shape.

As the days went by, Varian's magic slowly returned; the pain in his shoulder went down to an irritating but tolerable dull, and he quickly set about constructing the gondola. It wasn't the fanciest thing, but it was functional, and that was all that mattered to him. Martin had managed to get ahold of one iron bar, which Shay duplicated, and Varian put to good use. Rudiger assumed the role of watch-racoon at night, keeping a sharp vigil over the camp as he munched on every apple Killy managed to help him find.

It was late afternoon when Varian finally stepped back and wiped the sheen of sweat from his jaw. "I think that should do it. What do you guys think?"

Shay and Martin came to stand by him, staring at the finished airship: the envelope looked like a sad, deflated tent, and the gondola was more like a strange wicker basket a giant could take to market.

"It's…" Shay paused for an uncomfortably awkward, long moment. "Unlike anything I've ever seen," she supplied lamely.

Varian shot her a beleaguered stink eye. "Martin? Any thoughts?"

Martin cocked a very skeptical eyebrow. "I think we're going to die," he stated flatly. "But I guess we won't find out until we try it."

Varian sighed. "Your vote of confidence is overwhelming. Come on, let's grab everything and get ready."

They gathered all their things, stacking their supplies evenly between both ends of the gondola. The sun went down as Varian tested the ropes, praying between his teeth that they wouldn't snap the minute they tried to take off. "It's fine," he reassured himself. "It's fine, we got this. No problem."

"You're thinking out loud again," Martin said from behind, making him jump. "Look, if you think it'll work, then it'll work." He grimaced as Rudiger clambered over into the gondola, sniffing curiously at the woven branches as he tried to grow accustomed to the new space. "Probably."

Varian's heart was in his throat, and he swallowed it back down so he could speak. "We'll wait until it's darker out before we take off."

The wait felt like ages, each of Varian's friends taking the last opportunity to stretch their legs out on solid ground. As the sky grew dark and the moon began to glow through between the stars, everyone climbed aboard. Martin vaulted over, and Varian helped Shay inside.

"Are you ready to fill the envelope?" he asked her.

Shay nodded, her face as hard as stone. She said nothing, but Varian could tell she was just as nerve-wracked as the rest of them. Killy stood on her foot as the reached for the mouth of the envelope, her fingers shaking as she pinched the fabric. She waited for a full minute before dropping it and flinching away. "I don't know about this, Varian. What if the entire thing sets on fire? What if we're shot down by someone in the village? What if we fall into the ocean? What if we –"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," Martin scoffed. "You just helped kill a phantom!"

"No, I didn't!" she stammered. "Varian killed him, not me!"

"I said, 'helped' kill!"

"Okay, do we have to use the word, 'kill'?" Varian complained.

"Doesn't matter," Martin snapped, still glaring at Shay. "Your last two fears are invalid if we can't even get off the ground, so let's just see what happens already!"

Shay's fear abruptly faded, replaced by anger. "Fine," she hissed. "Fine. At least if we die, we all die together, right?"

"We are not going to die!" Varian exclaimed. "Will you both just…" He took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Just fill the envelope. Please."

With the mouth of the envelope back in hand, Shay summoned a handful of flames, coaxing heat into the enormous fabric pocket. At first, it didn't seem like anything was happening, and Varian's brain shot out the possibility of an improper sewing job. But after a few minutes, he could see the envelope slowly begin to inflate. He had warned everyone beforehand that it might take a little while; true to his word, it took nearly ten minutes before the envelope began to swell and rise.

"It's working," Martin observed with astonishment.

Another ten minutes, and the envelope was fully formed: a giant air-filled vessel towering high over their heads. Varian winced when he heard the fabric brush and crack off a few nearby branches; just one sharp enough could ruin everything in an instant. "Keep it going," Varian encouraged the girl, and she continued heating the air inside the balloon. The ropes began to groan, the gondola shuddered, and Rudiger's eyes flew open wide. Varian dashed forward, wrapping his arms tightly around the racoon's pine-scented neck in a purely instinctive attempt to keep him from jumping ship. Rudiger vibrated underneath him, trembling agitatedly, but against his better nature, he obeyed and stayed put.

There was a jolt, a moment of silence, and then the treetops began to grow closer. Martin looked over the lip of the gondola and sucked air in through his teeth as he watched the ground grow further away. "It's working," he wheezed, his hands strangling the makeshift railing as his entire body froze in place. "Guys, it's working."

"I know," Varian practically squealed, the widest grin spreading over his freckled face. He slowly let go of Rudiger, turning in circles around the gondola. "Isn't it great?!"

Shay said nothing; she still looked alarmingly pale. Despite her discomfort, she kept the flame going, and higher they went. They cleared the trees and began to drift out into the open air, the stars spreading out like glittering dots on a black picnic blanket. The world grew smaller, and Tarapai Village spilled out into view, the buildings shrunk to the size of cigar boxes. The ocean unfurled past the harbor like a pulsing mirror, waves flickering in sheets of blue and purple over the vast horizon.

Varian took in the sight of it all, his spirit buoyed by the wind that buffeted his face. This was different than riding Rudiger at breakneck speed, or the jolting disorientation he'd experienced after their teleportation mishap. This was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. There was nothing between him and the universe but this strange, marvelous vessel they'd created, and he was seeing it in a way he'd never imagined.

"It worked," he heard Shay finally speak. She was looking at him with wonder in her gaze, her words an exhale of relief. "It worked, Varian."

Varian stared at her, speechless. All he could do was smile.

Martin finally felt comfortable enough to glance over the railing, his hands still locked tightly in place. "You think any of them see us?" he asked warily.

"If they have," Varian answered, joining him at the rail, "we're too high for them to do anything about it, now."

"So, how long are we stuck in this thing?"

"Well, we're going faster than I thought we were," Varian speculated, taking note of the windspeed. "As long as it keeps blowing south, which it should at this time of year, then with the help of the back sail, we should reach the Dark Kingdom within the next three or four days. It depends on how far inland it is, but I'm leaning more towards three. Go, optimism."

Martin nodded slowly. "Right. Three days. Okay."

Varian clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you can make it?" he teased.

"Yes," Martin answered through clenched teeth. "I can make it. It's still better than the undead."

"Sure." Varian noted the guard's wobbling knees and sheen of sweat on his brow. "Just, uh…you know, try to warn us before you ralph, okay? Shay's a sympathetic hurler."

"What?" Shay said over the wind, her hands still producing fire. "I heard my name. Am I giving it too much?"

"Nah, you can kill it for now," Varian told her. "I'll let you know if we get too low."

Shay dismissed the flames and immediately reached to pick up Killy, who had been shivering around her ankles like a half-drowned cat. She cooed and cuddled him for a few moments before approaching the boys. "I'm worried about the animals."

"Rudiger will be fine," Varian glanced over at the racoon, who had begun to adjust to the cramped space by draping his enormous tail over one side and lolling his large, pink tongue over the other. "He's been through crazier stuff than this. I'm not sure about Beth, though." The mare was standing, but her eyes were wild with fear, and her ears kept switching to and fro, as if searching for a sound that could lead her to freedom. The best thing would probably be to sedate her, but he would ask Martin first. He reached to stroke Killy's ears, his eyes softening. "It's okay, little guy. You'll have solid ground in no time." He patted Martin's back one more time, then realized the mistake he'd made too late as the guard promptly arched forward and emptied the contents of his stomach before anyone could plug their ears. "Oh gosh, I am so sorry, man! I – ugh. We're just going over here, now."

Shay's complexion had whitened by several shades as Varian dragged her away. "I made a tonic before we left," she remarked through clenched teeth. "I'll see if I can find it." She tucked Killy into Varian's arms and rummaged through her things producing a bottle of black liquid. Varian watched her take it hesitantly over to Martin, whom she instructed to drink only one swallow. He managed half a gulp and kept it clasped in his hands without a word. Returning to Varian's side, Shay's teeth were still clamped closed as she took Killy back from him. "I'd hoped we wouldn't need that just yet, but…ooh."

Varian shook his head. "Reminds me of when your mom made that fish stew. Good old 'Auntie' Lyra and her cooking. I always made an excuse to spit it out in the privy. I don't know how anyone else managed to get it down. Worst stuff I think I've ever tasted, and that's after years of using myself as a guinea pig for my own…experi…ments." He'd stopped when he saw Shay's look of shock, her eyes wide enough to fill a set of plates. "Sorry, not the best topic. I mean, not to make fun of your mom or anything. It's just…she's a bad cook, that's all."

Words seemed to escape Shay for a long time. Her mouth formed the words before she had any air to speak them. "You remember," she breathed, kneeling down on the floor of the gondola. "How? How do you remember that?"

Varian followed, sitting cross-legged in front of her. The balloon's ropes creaked as the wind picked up, hoisting them further across the night sky. He could hear the sound of the ocean far beneath them, the sound of waters crashing into each other as the moon coaxed the tide in. It was the only light he had, the only encouragement he was given. He took a deep breath, folded his fingers together, and told her everything. The words seemed to pour out of him, each one building on the other, like bricks on a wall. He worried that was what he was doing, walling up the space between them, trying to explain what he'd experienced in that strange memory world.

When he finally paused, Shay said nothing, for a long time. Killy had fallen asleep, the hare's leg twitching in her aproned lap. "Our families were close, weren't they?" she said quietly, staring at the makeshift deck between them. "I used to call you dad, 'uncle'. That was how close we were. A family not of my flesh and blood – he served that role far better than Caius ever did. When I saw him in that amber, I wanted to call him that again." She glanced up at him, working her jaw back and forth. "I forgot too, you know, for a long time. It wasn't until you showed up that day that it all came back, this other life I'd lived. Surrounded by people, real people, instead of trees. To be with others, instead of being alone." She blinked once. "But…how do you feel, Varian? A spell that powerful, breaking after so long…that can have consequences."

Varian's black scalp tingled as a breeze blew through it, cooling the skin on the back of his neck. "Safe," he said automatically, surprised at the word.

"Safe?"

"Yeah. Safe. Like I can finally relax." He licked his lips and chewed the inside of his cheek. "Except…there was something else she told me," he admitted slowly, "something else that you won't like."

"Oh?"

"The key you said she talked about in her journal, the one that could set her free from Haderon's tomb? She said she'd used it, and in a way, it did work. Haderon's power is still sealed, but…so is she."

Shay's expression was frozen, her hair concealing her red eye. She said nothing.

"Do you understand? What that means?"

Of course, she understood what it meant. She stood and crossed over to the other side of the gondola, placing Killy carefully on top of one of the sacks. She then strode over to Beth, reaching for the horse's neck. A flitter of red sparks, and after a few moments, the mare's eyes closed as she nodded off to sleep, lulled by a spell Varian couldn't hear. When Shay returned, Spellbane was in her hands, the sheath clenched tightly by white knuckles.

Varian stood, his hands loose at his sides.

"I need to know," Shay said firmly, staring Varian in the eye. "Do I accept that Caius was right and unleash a terrible evil on the world to save a mother who can't be bothered with me, even in dreams? Or do I throw this overboard right now?"

"Overboard?" Martin had finally collected himself enough to pay attention, glancing feverishly over his shoulder. "What are we throwing overboard?"

Varian ignored him. "What happened to saying you would never give up Spellbane again?"

"This is different," Shay argued. "I can't let myself be tempted. I won't be like him!"

Varian fought the urge to slap her across the face. He hadn't expected her to take it well, but he didn't think she would react this rashly. Every time she compared herself to Caius was like driving a needle under his nail. Faster than he thought he could, he snatched the sword out of her hands, jerking it away. The moment it left her fingertips, shame flickered across Shay's flushed face. Then her nose wrinkled with anger, and Varian suddenly understood.

"This isn't about the sword," Varian insisted. "What's this really about, Shay? Tell me why you're mad." He already knew the answer, but he wanted her to say it. "Go on, say it."

"Why?" She clenched her fists at her sides. "Why does she talk to you, but she's never said a word to me, for seven years? Why did she come to help you while I was nearly torn apart trying to stop a phantom from killing us? Why did she have to go and get herself trapped in a necromancer's tomb?"

"You know why."

"I lost everything that day." Shay was escalating, her voice reaching levels he'd never heard before. "I was there when she made you forget, when she took me away from everything I ever loved! And I don't care what she wrote, I care about what she did, and what she did tells me louder than any excuse you could ever make for her! She hated me! That's why she left! I was just another reminder of my father's death, like you were, like Old Corona was! It wasn't fair! NONE OF IT IS FAIR!"

She took a deep breath, as if to shout more. But instead, she deflated, her shoulders slumping. Varian stared at her, pity carved deep into his features. He barely noticed Martin slowly approach and take the broadsword out of his hands. The guard was pale, but for a different reason now, and he didn't say a word. He crossed past Shay without a single pause or glance and returned Spellbane to Beth's saddle before laying out his bedroll and settling down, his back facing them. The night was cold now, but Varian barely noticed that, either.

"You know none of that is true," he said calmly. He could almost hear a bit of his father in his own voice. He wondered if the man frozen in amber would have said the same thing. Of course, if he was here, none of this would have happened, and Shay would probably be dead. The bitter truth was that Varian wasn't sure by this point which was worse.

Shay was shuddering from head to toe. No flames, no red light. Just herself, barely holding together. Damaged. Defeated. And even though it wasn't his fault, Varian still felt the blame.

"Why didn't she love me, anymore?" she hissed, tears clogging her throat. "Why did she leave me?"

"I can't answer that," Varian told her. "Only she can. You'll have to ask her. Face-to-face."

It was quiet between the two, a silence they hadn't shared in over seven years. There was no contact, no holding of hands, no tight embrace to calm her down. They just stood there, breathing, each waiting for the other to break the painful spell.

Varian was the first to move, stepping towards the center of the gondola. He grasped one of the ropes, pushing his hair out of his face. He didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the horizon, bracing himself for the long night ahead.

"Get some sleep," he muttered. "I'll take first watch."

The next three days felt like weeks. They were silent and tension-filled, each passenger on Varian's craft (man and animal) keeping their thoughts and feelings to themselves. Martin took Shay's tonic discreetly; with it, he became stable, helping Varian maintain and monitor their half-hazard airship with surprising finesse and no visible discomfort. He was able to reach where Varian couldn't, and he had strength where Varian needed it. He burned out quickly though, since he wasn't eating much, though none of them were. The threat of the ocean beneath them was a very real thing, something they were all aware of, and it kept each of them on edge. With every hour, they glanced at the horizon, waiting for the sight of land to greet them. By night, they watched the stars, charting which direction they were heading, making sure they were on the right course. The Keeper's supplies were put to good use, and heavy cloaks were immediately put on as the winter winds drove them onward, like an icy hand pushing them along.

Meanwhile, Shay had regressed to how she'd been when Varian had found her: quiet and unassuming, doing as she was told without a single comment. When they drifted too low, she fed warmth to the balloon, her flames constant and controlled. But Varian could see it in her eyes, a pain that he felt foolish for not seeing before. Looking back, he knew he had seen the cracks, the signs of her true distress, but he had either been too distracted or too dismissive of it to address it sooner. The latter was more likely, much to his own detriment. It plagued him, this inability, this shortsightedness to help his friends. He thought he had changed after all these months, but it had taken Shay's outburst to realize he hadn't changed at all.

But his spirits lifted when they finally saw mountains through the clouds: the southern continent stretched out before them, a craggy blanket of cool greys and mint greens. The sun was high, the weather milder as everyone let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Please tell me we're landing," Martin asserted, gazing eagerly down at the earth below. Rudiger mirrored him, the racoon's giant head lolling over the side as he aimed his large eyes downward.

But Varian shook his head. "We can't."

Martin blinked at him. "What do you mean, we can't?" Even Shay drew herself out long enough to give a concerned glance. "Are you telling me you don't know how to land this thing?"

"Yes…and no," Varian supplied with a sheepish cringe. "Look, I know how to land it, but it's not as easy as picking the exact spot where we want to set down." He pointed to the back of the gondola, where the airship's directional sail was rigged. "The sail won't do us any good if the wind pushes us too far forward. We can pick the best spot and try our best to steer in that direction, but there's still the possibility of overshooting it or landing short." He narrowed his eyes. "But even if we could be more precise, we're not landing until we reach Lunaris."

He pointed down below at the vicious-looking line of black spikes protruding from the countryside. They dotted a path clear to the horizon, dipping and jutting back out between hillsides and mountain peaks. "This is where our unsolved variable comes in. We follow the rocks, we reach the Moonstone, just like the princess. By this point, I don't know how long it will take for us to get there, but I doubt the kingdom is farther than a day inland. We know for a fact that they used to trade with early Corona, which means it can't be too far. If we're lucky, we might be able to get there before they do and stop anyone from getting hurt."

"And if we don't make it in time?" Martin was sober, his brown eyes hard as stone. "What do we do, then?"

Varian looked away, grinding his teeth. "I don't know," he answered. "And we won't have to find out. We keep moving."

The ocean shifted further and further behind them, rolling around the earth's curve as the hours swallowed the distance. By nighttime, it couldn't be seen anymore, and the moment it winked out of view, it hit Varian with alarming immediacy: he was on a completely different continent, now, a land far from where he was born, far from everything he'd once known. This wasn't his playing field, anymore. He and his friends were now clasped tightly in the hands of fate, of a destiny he barely understood. But he refused to let it choke him. He was still breathing, and the Dark Kingdom was growing closer.

"Varian," Martin's voice cut through his thoughts. The guard's tone was wary, unsettled. "You might want to see this."

"What is it?" Varian crossed over, gripping the side where Martin stood. What he saw didn't need to be pointed out to him; the sight of it was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. "What in the…"

To the east, not far from where they were, was a wide and verdant valley, filled with lush foliage and gentle slopes. A spattering of black rocks had struck through the green, like needles left in a quilt. In the valley's center, draped over a craggy cliffside, was an enormous tree, larger than any that had ever been grown in Corona…or at least, what was left of it. Split down the middle, its great branches intertwining in blackened twists, it stood broken and jagged against the valley cliffs in a way so unnatural, it gave the boys shivers.

"What the heck happened to it?" Martin asked, his jaw slack with an almost morbid fascination. "Lightning?"

Varian shook his head. "No. Something that big struck by lightning wouldn't be that devastated." He glanced over his shoulder. "Shay, what do you – oh, sheesh!" Shay was there, staring down at the scene. She had approached so quietly, he hadn't heard her. "I don't even know what kind of tree it is. Or was."

Shay's expression was grim, her eyes narrow as she looked down at the great, dead tree.

"Shay?" Varian probed. "What is it?"

She spoke for the first time in days. "Something terrible happened here." She reached out a finger, tracing the outline of the tree in the air. "This tree was killed by magic."

"Magic?" Martin breathed. "What kind of magic could do that much damage?"

"A lot of it," Varian inferred. To cause that much destruction by alchemical means would require barrels of concentrated explosive compounds, far greater amounts than anything he'd ever used. And even then, the destruction wouldn't look like this.

Shay tilted her head, as if listening to something. "This was a holy place, once. There's knowledge down there, wisdom from ages past."

Varian squinted, trying to put the shattered tree back together in his mind. As the pieces lined up, dread filled his veins. "Wait…I know that tree. It's the same kind that was in the phantom's dimension!"

"You mean…" Martin swallowed. "You think Zhan Tiri had something to do with this?"

They looked at Shay, who nodded slowly. "I can sense another kind of magic was here, though. Bright magic, like…"

"Like the sun." Varian's eyebrows shot up. "Rapunzel was here."

"Yes," Shay glanced at him, her dismission giving way to curiosity. "You can sense it, can't you? The Sundrop's power."

Martin leaned forward, trying to discern movement from the devastation below. "They're not still down there, are they?"

"No," Shay answered, her red eye searching. "There's nothing here, anymore."

"I hope they're alright," Varian admitted breathlessly. This tree felt like a foreboding, a warning of things to come if they didn't succeed. "We'll see worse if we don't reach the Moonstone in time."

The sight of the tree unsettled all of them; a strange sense of melancholy permeated the rest of the night, almost like mourning. To see such a great tree viciously brought down after centuries of growth and dedication was painful to witness. Varian found himself wondering what sort of flowers it might have bloomed. The morning brought a cold, grey dawn over their heads, and the balloon required more heat than usual to sustain their altitude. They sailed precariously over a mountain range, then dipped low towards the trees again. Every time the wind died down, Varian felt anxiety crawl up his spine like an ugly spider, tickling the back of his neck.

Faster, he begged. We can't slow down, now.

The hours became even more agonizingly slow than before, and the animals were more restless than ever. Rudiger was especially agitated, scraping against the floor of the gondola until Varian calmed him down. The sun started to dip lower, the afternoon waning as the clouds overhead intensified. Varian prayed that it wouldn't rain, or worse, snow. Once he knew Rudiger was settled enough, he drifted over to where Martin sat.

"Doing okay?"

"Yeah," Martin had enough strength to complain, fussing with the static in his hair. "The air's dry up here, that's all." He stuffed a dried fig into his mouth, chewing slowly as he huddled in his cloak. "You think the crazy king has some of that fancy conditioner? You know, the kind they make from silk extract? I've always wanted some of that."

Varian smirked. "Remind me why you're here again?"

"To make sure you don't get killed." Martin finished chewing and glanced up at him. "I've never fought a king, before. Thieves a few times, now the undead…but never a king. Especially a king who's been guarding a magical artifact for the past…what was it, two decades?"

"You scared?"

"Of course, I am." Martin clenched his fists in front of him. "But once we're there, and this finally goes down…that's where I know it needs to count most."

Varian smiled sadly. "For what it's worth…I'm sorry."

Martin mirrored the sad smile. "Me too, kid." He risked a glance across the gondola to where Shay stood, feeding fire to the balloon once more. "You said anything to her since…?"

Varian shook his head. "No, and I'm not going to. I think I've done enough damage."

"Yeah, well…sometimes you have to break things more before you can fix it proper," Martin offered him a fig. "I don't pretend to know what either of you have really been through, but this kind of thing should make you stronger, not rip you apart."

Varian chewed slowly; the fig was bitter. "That's not for me to decide, anymore."

"We're here."

They both looked up sharply. Shay was pointing out past the gondola, the hairs on her arms raised from the cold. Martin stood and followed Varian over, gazing out to where Shay's finger led.

There, towering on the lip of the horizon, was a castle wreathed in black rocks.