Finding The Sky
SHE KILLED MY FATHER. I’M BRINGING THE WAR TO HER.
My name is Synn El’Asim and I live on an airship. Our way of life is dictated by seasons—predominately the four-year-long winter that completely freezes the oceans. We are nomads by necessity. Some of us live in the skies, like me. Some on land. Few on the seas. Others reside in the tentacles of large jellyfish we call lethara.
The Hands of Tarot threaten our ways of life. They’re ruled by a queen, Nix, who is trying to destroy the larger tribes. I thought my family and I were safe. We have the largest fleet. We’re fast and we’re strong.
I was wrong. She catches up to us with her metal flying machines and horrifically kills my father. The time for running is over. I’m taking the fight to her and her gear-filled city in the clouds.
She thought she had me. She was wrong.
I almost brought down Sky City, but now I’m in the hands of the enemy. Again. This time, it’s different. There’s a little respect. Is that something I can build from? Is it something I can trust?
With Nix, the answer of trust is always no. Everything she says is a manipulation of one sort or another. But she offers me a treaty and tells me to get the tribes to sign it. Sign it and there will be peace. She will stop killing tribes, will cease the genocide.
The trick is going to be getting the tribes together to sign it. I have an idea, but my mother isn’t going to like it.
Not even in the slightest. It’s time for both powers—the great tribal Families and the Hands of Tarot to step down.
They won’t go gently. But I’m ready.
Nix isn’t our biggest foe. And now…they have a name.
We have a new government, and for a little bit, I can disappear and rebuild. I’m recovering after the events of the Sky Games. I have a new design for my ships. Faster. Larger. More versatile.
Built for war.
But our enemy isn’t who we thought they are. It isn’t Nix and her Hands of Tarot. She’s in custody, under my control. But the war is still ongoing. Factions of the tribal Great Families have broken off in search of the only metal deposits left on our moon, and they don’t care who gets in their way. They’re the pure bloods with the greatest Marks.
The Marks of power we hold such pride in will be our undoing. They’re not a gift to be praised. They’re an invasion, the first wave. The Skyborne are desperate for supplies to rebuild their star ships. Our Marks are their only way of controlling us to provide for them.
But when they have what they need, it may be the end of everything we know.