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Chapter Text

     Muska dreamt he was falling. The sky was blood-red as he made his descent through the black clouds, the debris of his kingdom crashing around him.
Robots fell like dead birds, limp and flightless. His cry of terror was swallowed by the wind as the dark waters below grew closer and closer. As with the other nightmares he had been plagued with, this one ended before his inevitable death at the hands of the hateful sea.

He woke abruptly, skin prickling with sweat, heart thudding in his chest. He gasped for breath, shuddering, sobering gasps that felt almost painful. During these nights he was grateful his status provided him a cabin all to himself. There was no one to judge him for his nocturnal sufferings, to witness his weakness.

     It seemed the closer he came to attaining his goal, the more potent his nightmares grew. Were the gods warning him against his fate, or was this simply just the manifestation of his fears? Either way, it was driving him to the brink of insanity. At best, he only slept a few hours a night, leaving him exhausted and frustrated. The next time he saw those pirates, or that foolish boy, he was going to shoot them himself for derailing his plans so thoroughly.

     There was a brief moment where Muska considered halting the expedition, but he had worked his entire life for this. Sleep could wait, couldn’t it?
He would see to it that Laputa would once again become the pinnacle of civilization. He would finally be in the home of his ancestors. He had only one chance, and this was it.
He looked to the nightstand at his bedside. The crystal glowed like a blue ember in the dark, the sacred light still kindled. He took hold of it, clutching it like a comforting totem. Reluctant to fall asleep again, he shifted to lay on his side. To sleep was to dream, and to dream was to suffer.

     When his exhaustion became too much to bear, he allowed his eyes to close. This time, however, he did not dream of falling.
Instead he dreamt of a great plain. It appeared before him, an expanse of golden grass, as far as the eye would allow. The sun crowned the sky with vivid light, and he shielded his eyes from its blinding rays. It was a great change from the flightless terror that was before, yet it was just as confounding.

     A fork-tailed bird darted past his face, flashing orange and brown in the light. A swallow. It dove into the grass, but re-emerged as a regal woman. She wore blue robes, reflecting the azure sky above; a golden yoke fitted about her neck. In the center of it, among other fine jewels, was a blue stone that he recognized, the one he held in his hand. Some small, subconscious part of him recognized her, despite her unfamiliarity, but in consciousness, he could not place her.

     “Who are you?” He asked, tentatively.

     The woman smiled, tilting her head to the side, looking bemused.

     “Antheia the First,” she replied, “Do they not teach my story to Laputian children anymore?”

     Ah. Now he remembered. The name has been hidden in his earliest memories, many of which he had chosen to forget. He nodded.
His great aunt Shara had been gifted with the skill of storytelling, but stories of his ancestors rarely contained cohesive images of them.
Muska wondered again if his dreams and dark hours were indeed omens. Antheia waved her hand dismissively.

     “No matter, I have come to issue a warning,” she said, her rich voice carrying a serious note, ”If you continue on this path, the only thing that awaits is destruction.”

     “Destruction?” He inquired.

     She looked somber, if a bit displeased.

     “I cannot allow this, allow you to raze what we have tried so ardently to protect,” she said, her voice growing impassioned. “There is a reason the clouds about it never cease.”

     Antheia waved her hand over the grass and it shimmered, and the dream dissolved.

     In a flash, he found himself back in the nightmare. But something had changed, shifted. The sky still burned with dusk, and the waters still churned with malice, but the castle remained intact— no stones crumbled, no robots fell, there was nothing for the ocean to claim with its frigid hands.

     He stood on the precipice of the city, the green grass waving hypnotically in the wind as the clouds passed below. Beside him stood a much older image of Sheeta, scanning the horizon. She looked serene, but regal, a diadem perched in a crown of dark braids. Her gaze shifted to him and she smiled gently, holding out her hand.

     Before he could reach out and take it, the dream ended, and the sun-yellowed plain appeared before him again. Antheia stood where she was, the same somber look in her ancient gray eyes.   

     “What was that?” He gasped, eyes wide.

     “I simply showed you an alternative future. But that is not what I have planned for you.”

     Annoyance flashed in Muska’s eyes. “What, are you going to kill me instead?” He sneered.

     Antheia smiled serenely. “I could, if that is what you wish.”

     “No!” He uttered, “No, I think I have died enough in my dreams.”

     “So be it,” She said, “You will be saved from this fate, but every choice has a price, and yours is steep.

     “Name it,” he said, jaw clenched.

     “I do not simply name my price, especially to one who sought to find the city before its time.” She scoffed, eyes stormy.

     “Besides,” she continued, “you have little choice in the matter. As soon as you wake, your price will have been paid. I bid you well, Romuska Palo Ur Laputa.”
She smiled again, and the dream faded to black.

Chapter Text

     The summer sun shone brightly above the towering clouds as Sheeta leaned against the rail next to Pazu. Taking a break from their respective duties, they decided to have lunch outside. It was a perfect summer day, yet something felt slightly off. She couldn’t quite place it, so she pushed the feeling aside, laughing at one of Pazu’s jokes as he gesticulated wildly with his sandwich.

      It had been a few months since Muska had mysteriously disappeared, so she had nothing to fear anymore. According to reports, the expedition had been abandoned, as he had taken the crystal with him. Without the crystal’s guiding light, it was pointless to even attempt a search.

      Now that Laputa was truly unreachable, the army had decided to focus their efforts on destroying and capturing pirates of any sort, whether they be the sky or sea variety. Dola had tried her best to make Pazu and her leave, but their thirst for adventure was unquenchable.

While she missed her grandmother’s pendant--no, her pendant--she didn’t miss Muska enough to search for it.

     Pazu’s hand hovered over hers, as if he was going to hold her hand. 

     There came a great woosh of air, and Sheeta felt a rush of wind as a cannonball shot past the ship, disappearing angrily into the clouds. Her pulse quickened. Her gut had been right all along.

“GET TO YA STATIONS!” Dola boomed. “WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

     Sheeta’s stomach dropped as a ship appeared beside them, the clouds exploding with gunfire. She ducked instinctively. She looked on in horror at the massive ship headed their way. It was the HMS Jupiter, here to take them down.

     The Jupiter was often referred to as the Falcon, due to its ability to swoop out of nowhere and gun down pirates. They had lost several other gangs to this battle cruiser, and they did not wish to face the same fate. The teens leapt to their feet, but not quickly enough.

     The ship tilted dangerously from the impact, and Sheeta slid underneath the railing on the foredeck. She grabbed onto the bar above her head with both hands, letting out a scream of terror. She didn’t want to fall again, especially since the crystal wasn’t here to save her.

“Sheeta!” Pazu yelled, “Hang on!”

“I am!” She shouted back. 

     The ship righted itself, and her body slammed painfully against its hull. Pazu reached his hand out for her to grab. 

     It was at this time that one of the gunners on the Jupiter spotted her, a pirate in flashy garb, dangling from the side of the ship. He fired a few shots, not quite realizing his target was a young girl. In his mind, all pirates were scum and deserved to die.

     Sheeta screamed as one of the bullets struck her in the shoulder. The pain was unimaginable, and her right arm went limp. She held on with her other hand for dear life.

     Pazu screamed her name, terror in his eyes as he reached for her. She looked at him one last time, tears in her eyes. There was no possible way he could reach her without him risking his life. She knew with certainty that she was going to die.

“Goodbye, Pazu. Live, if not for yourself, live for me!” She cried desperately, trying her best to console him one last time.

     The ship tilted again to avoid a volley of bullets, and Sheeta slipped, falling into the shattered sky.

      She was a wingless bird, no crystal to save her, no airship fast enough to rescue her. Save me , she thought desperately. As she lost consciousness, she vaguely registered being engulfed by a wave of warm blue light that she assumed was the ocean.

     Agony was the first thing Sheeta knew as she opened her eyes, the pain in her shoulder and chest more intense than any she had ever felt in her entire life. She cried and coughed, struggling to her feet. She leaned against a nearby pole, panting.

     Heart beating rapidly, she glanced around. She was on the ground now, and night had fallen. A strange black road dotted with yellow and white lines lay before her, lit in intervals by flickering amber lamps. It was unlike any road she had ever seen. 

     Her curiosity, though, was severely dimmed by her pain. Her bloodsoaked shirt was plastered to her back, and she had to hold back sobs every time she moved. She needed help. Fast.

    The night was full of noise. Crickets chirped cacophonously. Nearby waves crashed against the shore; the hinges of an unknown door creaked as it opened. She dropped to the ground, covering one of her ears with her uninjured arm. It was too much.

     Through all of the noise, she heard someone calling her name. A voice she recognized, but couldn’t quite place through her pain. Sheeta lifted her head up to see who had come to save her, but then wished she hadn’t.

     Standing in front of her was the man she loathed. Muska. Through the fog of pain, she noted subtle differences about him, the details of his face not quite as she remembered them. She had little choice. The only thing worse than him was death… and her injury.

     He looked stricken, if but a bit solemn. “Sheeta?” He asked tentatively. 

“Help me! Please! I’ll do anything!” She sobbed, desperate tears streaming down her face.

     He stared at her for a moment, his eyebrows arched in evident confusion. He noticed a splatter of blood on her shirt and dropped into a crouch in front of her to examine it. She flinched.

“I’ve been shot.” she sputtered. His eyes widened as she weakly turned her  blood-soaked shoulder towards him.

“Who did this to you?” He asked, sounding on the edge of fury.

“Jupiter,” she muttered.

     He stared at her, wide eyed for a second, wondering how in the hell she’d ended up getting shot, as well as sentenced to the same fate as him.

     She coughed, and cried out in pain.

“Don’t you dare die,” he threatened, carefully picking her up. He was warm, so warm that she began to shiver.

     He carried her to a nearby vehicle, laying her across the backseat. Sheeta didn’t have enough energy to protest. She was certain he needed her alive, and she was sure he would do anything to keep it that way.

     As she lay bleeding on the backseat, an elderly woman opened the door, muttered something to Muska, and took a seat next to him at the front of the car.

     The drive was a blur as she fought to stay conscious and alive. Soon the vehicle stopped, and she was carried through a set of glass doors into a white, bright room. Was this heaven, hell, or something in between?

     The sudden brightness made her woozy. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, as if just thinking about sleep had summoned it. Muska muttered words she couldn’t hear, and she lapsed into a deep, exhausted slumber, her head falling against his chest.

Chapter Text

     The morning felt colder than any Pazu had ever felt before. The cabin was insulated enough, but this chill was in his very marrow. There was a strange emptiness in his chest. He had wept for hours and hours, screaming until his voice grew hoarse, before disappearing all together. Losing her was a pain worse than death.

     He remembered her kind smile, her beautiful hair, her determination to find Laputa. 

    Dola had tried her best to console him, but she was dealing with her own troubles.  Her ship was damaged and one of her sons had lost an arm in the attack. And she too was mourning for Sheeta. Jupiter had dealt so much pain and agony. He wanted to find the pilot and choke the life out of him with his bare hands. Then he would have revenge for Sheeta, as well as all of the other pirates that had lost people they loved to the warship. 

       He pushed the covers off, determined to do just that. He would continue to mourn her death, but not without taking action for it. Then he could go on, living for her, carrying her memory in his heart. 

     He walked into the infirmary, where Dola was standing by her injured son.

     “Dola,” he said quietly. The old woman glanced at him, wiping her face. 

“Ya need somethin’, Pazu?” She asked tiredly.

“I’m just here to ask for permission to leave for a few days.”

      Dola pulled her gaze away from her sleeping son, staring at Pazu, brow raised.

     “Why?”

“I need some time to myself. Just a week, and I’ll be back. I promise you, Dola.” There was a small spark in his dull eyes. 

     Dola stood and wrapped Pazu in a tight hug. 

“Granted.” She pulled away and looked him in the eye, her sternness returning. “Don’t get ya self killed now, boy.” 

He gave her a faint smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

    Around noon, one of Dola’s uninjured sons dropped a determined Pazu off at an airship station, with a few dozen coins for fare and food. As if she had sensed what he was intending on doing, Dola had also provided him with some papers, filled with coordinates, names of important pirates, and secret codes, all of which would guide him to the unofficial headquarters of the Confederation of Sky Pirates.

     He wished the pirate good luck and walked into the station to await the next airship. After waiting a half an hour for a passenger ship to dock, he climbed aboard with a few dozen others, ranging from finely dressed businessmen to factory women donning plain sack dresses. There was even a soldier, whom Pazu chose to stay as far away from as possible.

     He handed the conductor his ticket, and a steward led him into the back of the cabin. The seat was cramped and stank of old sweat and cigars, but having a bad seat was better than having no seat at all. He tugged anxiously at the strip of red fabric around his wrist, checking to make sure it was secure. It was one of Sheeta’s old hair bands, and the only thing he had left of her. When he thought of her, as well as his purpose, the reason for this trip, all these annoyances faded away. 

     If he ever figured out where Muska had been hiding for these few months, he pledged to tear him apart, piece by piece. Pazu was sure that the only reason the Falcon had attacked them was because Muska had ordered them to. Of course the airwaves never spoke of Muska’s return, only of his mysterious disappearance, but he began to wonder if he had come back under a new, more nefarious identity. 

     Jupiter, unlike Goliath, was not of Teduan origin. Rather, it belonged to the Roman states, so it was likely the military in that region would be unaware of his history.

    Pazu became lost in his thoughts as the ship rumbled to life, taking him one step closer to vengeance.