Into the Still Blue

Faintly, through the speakers, Perry heard pilots moving through flight commands. And then one by one, the other Hovers in the fleet rose off the ground. When their craft lifted with a jolt, Cinder gasped, his eyes flying wide open.



Perry swallowed through a dry mouth. “Buckle yourself in,” he said.



Not the most soothing words he’d ever spoken, but it was the best he could do at the moment.



Cinder looked over, scowling. “What about you?”



Perry glanced down, muffling a curse as he snapped his own harness on.



The Hovers didn’t shoot over the bluff like he’d pictured. They turned south and hugged the edge of the coast, following the trail to the compound that he and Roar had walked just yesterday.



As the fleet formed up like a flock, his Hover fell to the rear. Perry’s gaze moved to the Belswan at the lead.



Talon. Aria. Roar. Marron. Reef and the rest of the Six.



He couldn’t stop listing their names. They were all in there. Sable had handpicked the people closest to Perry and brought them on his Hover. It made Perry’s stomach churn to think they were in Sable’s control now.



In minutes, the Tide compound came into view, sitting up on a small rise. It was still his land, despite the flash of Aether and the trails of fire along the hills. He still felt it calling to him—but in a voice he no longer recognized.



“Did I ever tell you that my home in Rim was bigger than the whole of your compound?” Sable asked.



A jab, but Perry couldn’t have cared less. His house had always offered enough space. Even when the Six had slept wall to wall across the floor, there had always been enough room for everyone.



“You want to compare sizes, Sable? I bet I win.”



Perry didn’t know why he said that. He’d never been one for bragging—that was more Roar’s manner—but the remark made Cinder look over and smile, so it was worth it.



“Take one last look at your land,” Sable said, changing the subject.



Perry did. As the Hovers soared past the abandoned compound, he took in as much as he could, aching and nostalgic. Amazed at this new, shocking perspective of the place he’d lived in since birth.



After passing the compound, the fleet turned west and sped up, covering the half-hour walk over the dunes to the ocean in a heartbeat.



The beach where he’d learned how to walk and how to fish and how to kiss was a blur of beige and white. Gone in an instant, and then there was only water. Only waves that stretched out as far as he could see.



This journey was nothing like what he had imagined. For years, he’d pictured himself crossing over hills or deserts with the Tides in search of the Still Blue. He had expected a land voyage, not the steel blue of the ocean below and the glaring currents of Aether above.



“I don’t know why you came with me,” Cinder said, pulling him from his thoughts.



Perry looked at him. “Yes, you do.”



He’d explained his conversation with Sable to Cinder in the Battle Room, though Cinder had already known. Cinder had already decided to help the Tides, he’d told Perry. From the moment he’d acquiesced to Sable in the Komodo, he’d said he felt ready.



But now his eyes filled with tears. “Remember when I burned your hand? How you said that was the worst pain you’ve ever felt?”



Perry looked down at his scars, flexing his hand. “I remember.”



Cinder said nothing more. He turned forward, but Perry knew what he was thinking. His ability was a wild, untamed thing. He tried to control it, but didn’t always succeed.



Perry didn’t know whether either of them would live through the next hours. He had been around Cinder a few times when he channeled the Aether. This time would be very different—it was the only thing he was sure about.



“I want to be here, Cinder. We’re getting through this, all right?”



Cinder nodded, his bottom lip quivering.



They fell quiet again, listening to the tremble of the Dragonwing and the hum of the engine. The ocean seemed endless, hypnotic. As they put mile after mile behind them, Perry imagined hunting alone. Tickling Talon until he broke into big, hiccupping belly laughs. Sharing a bottle of Luster with Roar. Kissing Aria and feeling her breathing, sighing, shivering under his hands.



He was deep in his thoughts until he saw a thin line of brilliant light on the horizon.



He sat up. It was the barrier, he had no doubt.



“Do you see it?” Cinder said, looking at him.



“I see it.”



With every minute that passed, the line became larger, broader, until Perry wondered how it had ever looked like a line. He squinted, eyes straining at the brightness. The barrier seemed endless. Great twisting columns of Aether rained from above, but they ran upward as well, circling. The flows formed a curtain that was larger than anything he’d ever seen, reaching up endlessly—like the ocean had been lifted up to the sky.



Cinder let out a whimpering sound as the Hover slowed.



Sixty feet below, the ocean currents were churned in whirlpools, stirred by the Aether. Crossing in boats would have been suicide. Without the Hovers, they’d have been doomed.



Perry could see very little beyond the curtain of Aether— it was like looking through flames or rippling water—but in the small glimpses he did catch, he saw that the color of the ocean was different there.



The waves shimmered with unfiltered sunlight.



The Still Blue was golden.



41



ARIA



Aria’s mind flitted from one thing to another. Falcon Markings that reached shoulder to shoulder. Sandals made of book covers. Opera songs and earthworms and a voice as warm as the afternoon sun. They had one thing in common.



Perry. Every thought came back to him.



She sat in the cargo hold of the Belswan Hover with Talon on one side and Roar on the other, her eyes on the window on the opposite side of the hold. She had been staring at it since leaving the bluff, watching the Aether outside and wondering if she should move closer. If she should look outside, where she might see Perry’s Hover.



She’d passed hours this way, she was almost sure, but time didn’t feel right.



Nothing did.



When the Hover slowed, her stomach leaped into her throat. She jumped up, Roar right beside her.



“What’s going on?” Talon asked.



The question was suddenly on everyone’s lips.



“We’re here,” Sable said over the speaker, silencing them. “Or I should say, almost here. Before we make the crossing, why don’t we hear some words from your Blood Lord? Go ahead, Peregrine.”



Aria heard Perry clear his throat. Her eyes filled with tears, and he hadn’t even said anything yet.



“I’ve, uh . . . I’ve never been one for speeches,” he began. “Wish that weren’t the case right now.” His voice was even and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Like he always sounded. “I want you to know that I did my best to look after you. I didn’t always succeed, but you’re not an easy group. I think that’s fair to say. You fought me sometimes. You argued with me. You expected me to be more than a simple hunter. And because of you, I became more than that. So I want to thank each of you for letting me lead you. And for the honor I’ve had of serving you.”



That was it.



Sable came back on. “I thought that was well said, actually. Very capable, your young lord. You’ll see him again soon, when we reach the Still Blue.”



He kept speaking, but Aria didn’t hear the rest.



Her gaze moved to the window again, and she went to it. People made way for her, clearing a path. Even Sable’s soldiers stepped aside for her. For Roar, Talon, and Brooke, who lined up beside her at the thick glass.



“There,” Brooke said, pointing. “Do you see them?”



42



PEREGRINE



The Dragonwing surged forward again, pushing Perry’s back against the seat and making Cinder gasp.



They passed the other Hovers in the fleet, one after another, and then there was no one left. Nothing in front of them but Aether in every direction.



“You’ll need to tell us how close you want to be,” Sable said.



Perry looked at Cinder, who bugged his eyes and shrugged.



It was such an honest reaction that Perry found himself smiling. None of them had been in this situation before; how close they should be was anyone’s guess.



Strangely, Perry felt better, his focus returning by the second. He’d said what he’d needed to say to the Tides. Now it was time for action—always where he felt surest.



The craft gave a sudden lurch that pushed him against his restraints, and then it began to shudder. The instrument panel came alive, flashing with red warning messages, and the blare of an alarm filled the cockpit with an urgent pulse.



Cinder blurted, “That’s good! We’re close enough!”



The craft slowed and then bobbed unsteadily in place. Here the ocean was even rougher, rising in huge swells. Perry estimated a distance of one hundred and fifty yards between them and the barrier. He’d have liked to fire an arrow at it. A dozen arrows. He’d have liked to be the one to pierce it and tear it down.



“Time to do what you’ve promised us, Cinder,” Sable said. “Do this, and we’ll get both of you home. Willow is waiting for you.”



Cinder eyes had glazed over. Silent tears spilled over, rolling down his cheeks.



Perry tugged his seat restraints off and stood, knowing this was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. He sank into his legs to keep his balance in the pitching craft and unbuckled Cinder’s restraints.



“I’m right here,” he said, holding his hand down. “It’s all right. I’m going to help you.” Cinder’s arm shook violently as Perry helped him to his feet.



They moved into the small hold behind the cockpit together, Perry half carrying him.



The bay doors opened. Wind and spray swept inside in a violent rush. The air was cool and tasted of salt, as familiar to Perry as anything, except for the sting it carried, like bites all along his skin and over his eyes.



The wall of Aether churned and roiled ahead of him; Sable’s pilots had turned the craft parallel to it. For long moments he stared in awe, unable to look away, until he caught movement from the corner of his eyes.



Cinder was bent into a corner of the craft, his back convulsing as he retched.



“What’s happening?” Sable’s voice moved through the speakers. “I can’t see what’s happening.”



“We need a minute,” Perry snapped.



“We don’t have a minute! Get Aria up here right now,” Sable ordered.



“No! Just hold on!”



Cinder recovered and climbed to his feet. “Sorry . . . it’s so bumpy.”



Perry let out his breath, realizing Cinder was only seasick, not sick with fear. “That’s all right. I’m surprised I haven’t done it myself.”



Cinder smiled weakly. “Thanks,” he said. “For being here with me.”



Perry nodded, accepting his thanks. “Do you want me to stand next to you?”



Cinder shook his head. “I can do it.”



He moved to the bay doors, bracing a hand against the opening. Then he closed his eyes, the fear easing from his face. Webs of Aether spread beneath his skin, moving up his neck to his jaw, then higher over his scalp.