'Sometimes I wonder if Myrkri Konungur was actually a nice guy...’ I stood on the deck mindlessly gazing at faint glow of aether clouds outside.
‘He was, indeed,’ suddenly a female voice answered my thoughts. Mysteriously, it was ringing from every direction, a feat to which I hadn’t accustomed myself.
‘Uh, I must have been talking aloud. Tell me, ghost, for how long we have to sail?’
I didn’t find much pleasure in talking with Siri - as she called herself - but at that moment I was so sick of monotony and dull pain that I craved for anything; even if an ugly orc had given me a nice smalltalk I’d be more than willing to respond.
‘If nothing changes and the weather stays calm we’ll reach the destination point in some eighty thousand years. Starsail burn isn’t fast.'
‘Holy! Whoever is awaiting there at the end he’s going to host a pile of ancient bones. Eighty thousand bloody years, no less! Priests back home used to tell us the God had created the world only six thousand years ago.'
‘I’m sorry, but we did some research based on the Shatterling data. The Konungur interpreted the analysis as an evidence in favor of a theory stating this domain was created some three million years ago in subjective scale. And also, in case there is any concern, you may always use the cryofugue.'
‘Cryo-what?..'

At first I felt terrible cold. Nauseating fear followed. Nevertheless, soon they went off giving place to dreams and dim images of recollections.

Báturinn Myrkrinu Konungs, the Bark of the Dark King. We found it by chance. Rumors reached the patched army of ours, telling that in day’s time there would be an infestation of Inquisitors and snooty witches. They would seize the great keep, entangle it in barbed wire, and proceed to dogfight over the Dark King’s legacy without us, the hireling folk, interfering needlessly.

We were wandering through the maze of sublime arcades and didn’t realized we had stumbled upon central docks.
‘I suppose that you’re not aware of…’ a female voice addressed us suddenly. At the same moment something blazed from behind. I can’t quite remember what exactly happened there and in what order.
There was just Duncan dropping on the floor - lifeless already - but for some reason with great joy in his eyes.

Cyrill told me afterwards: someone or a bunch of them followed us closely but covertly, seized the moment of opportunity and attacked. Duncan reacted and managed to cover us with his body. At the end of the day we were saved by Siri: the ship’s voice, an invisible ghost.
Cyrill was in bitter rue; he failed to shield us timely. I felt ill rage in tone of his voice but I was too shocked to do anything about that.
He left me shortly afterwards. I slowly sat on the floor and begun to weep.

‘Who are you, anyway?'
‘I’m Siri, a nirmita. My liege, the King, was one of the Shatterlings. I was uploaded to ship’s network and serve as an advanced all-purpose AI. The King used to call me ‘his wife’ but I guess I am no more; I take it for granted that he’s dead now. If so, I am yours. Shall I consider you all equal in station or is there a leader?'
We held a discussion and despite his objections decided that Cyrill has the most rights to be our mastermind. He was the eldest and the wisest.

Some time after the ship proceeded to take off into the skies and beyond. The thousand mile wide Barrier Range turned out to be a great mechanism. It came to life and shuddered off layers and layers of ashen rock strata. We were astonished to the innermost. It had took us a month of wicked hardships to cross the Barrier and now it was crumbling to dust. ‘Do we even matter?’ whispered Methodeus. The magus wasn’t even scribing feverishly in his little sketchbook - a habit to stay unbroken, we had thought.
The great mechanism gave birth to blaze and radiance which went centerwards in a wave of boiling inferno. And then we found the ship poising effortlessly on the very top of a column-like firestorm.
The world seemed freakishly minuscule. I was totally drained and exhausted and in no time fell asleep with the help of sudden lull which came after the takeoff.

It took us two weeks of drift to draw nearer to the Celestial.
‘I wasn’t convinced until recently that my liege’s takeoff engine would work such wonders. We’ve got some fruity gees from that Freudian torch, tee-hee.’ Siri sounded particularly amused as if she was a cat who got her fill of outdoor activities.
We gathered once again on the observation deck. Cyrill looked haggard. Methodeus told me Cyrill was communing with Gods rather frenetically. Seeing that he consecrated his regret to spiritual zeal I decided to hold back my words of consolation and reassurance.

Lately I was getting somewhat closer to Methodeus. I never knew for sure but I’ve got an impression that he and Duncan were lifelong friends. Their accents were quite similar so I the presumption was they had hailed from the same place.
After joining the band I was quickly charmed by Duncan. He was a genuinely kind person, a type so rare. Especially amongst those who I knew, as a street stray rogue had few chances to encounter virtue in her life.

Good days came. We were living off random quick jobs, making modest cash in silver and some love in process. In the evenings many a jest were told beside sturdy wooden tables at Wylde’s. And there were laughter and happiness.
It all ended with ill tidings. A holy war was declared on the Dark King and that meant a big turmoil.
I wasn’t fond of an idea to join the forces. I pointed out that, indeed, many would leave with the Army but no less would choose to stay and carry on. And then we would turn the ensuing drop in supply of mercs to profit. My reasoning was good but there was something about Duncan’s worldview. Probably, not joining would place his honor at stake. Reluctantly, I consented.
As of Methodeus...

‘What the hell is that?’ Methodeus stood in awe. I turned to see the thing.
The Celestial was made of some jet-black substance. Technically, it was a sphere but a sphere so huge and world-spanning. Wherever I looked it was there; a sea of blackness curving upwards at it’s furthest extremes. There was, however, a feature standing out. Faintly distinguishable, a trough run across the sea.

So it was that back home days followed nights because the sun rolled relentlessly and endlessly along the circumference of the Celestial guided by the trough. And so there was a plane of blackness and above it an another one, of raging fire. Though, the passing was breathtakingly fast. At the end I was left speechless, confused, and with a strong lingering sense of vertigo.
After that we were heading right into a star. Stars on the firmament turned out to be holes. Aether outside glowed through them and currents in it’s ebb and flow made stars twinkle.