The Prism glided on the last established resonance vein. The ruby veins that flanked the phase road through the strata glowedbrighter, and grew larger, with every passing mile. The low ceiling of the rip ahead loomed like a cracked sky, a jagged tear in the rock. Faint chimes drifted in, soft and distant: the hanging Bells of Hades Gardens calling across the divide.

  Enkidar’s talons gripped the controls. “ The Ruby Road ends up ahead. If we are to remain undetected, we must risk leaving the road. In the virgin rock beyond, there is no guidance, no smooth path. It will be a rough ride. The cloak will flicker, at best.”

  Metial’s smile was calm, the Autarch Bell pulsing at his hip. “Proceed. Undetected is the only path.”

  The ship nosed into a gap between the ruby boulder clusters. The smooth hum of the road vanished. Virgin rock swallowed them whole.

  The ride turned brutal.

  The Prism bucked, hull groaning as raw strata scraped against the phase field. Inertia broke through the dampening field, and the stomach rolled in response. Ruby veins sparked against the hull, showering the bridge with crimson light. Enkidar fought the controls, engines whining in protest. “I can't hold her steady! The resonance interference is too thick!”

  Sari braced against the console. “The cloak’s holding, but just barely. We’re leaking signature.”

  Nix huddled deeper in Enkidar’s vest, wings trembling. “Bells, rubies and Royal Nephilim. Explain to me how we don’t die today!”

  Metial remained still, Bell pulsing impatient. “Set her down. Before it tears us apart.”

  Enkidar banked hard, Prism dropping through the rip. The low ceiling pressed close: a mile-high lid of bare rock, studded with resonance-enhanced crystals and Bells of every size, glowing soft violet-gold. The disorienting light spilled across the farmlands below. The seemingly endless void was filled with vast, orderly rows of exotic trees stretching into the hazy distance. Stone water-capture buildings rose like ancient watchtowers breaking up the monotony of the flat expanse. There were herds of glowing, multi-headed livestock grazing under the artificial twilight off to the starboard side of the Prism.

  Nix stared.

  "Never seen those before."

  No one else commented at the spectacle as the ship plummeted into the canopy.

  The ship landed hard between stately Botnairn tree rows. Their grotesque fruit dangled like swollen, veiny orbs, pulsing faintly. The smell hit the senses immediately: decay mixed with overripe fruit punch, thick enough to gag on.

  Sari retched. “What is that?”

  Nix peeked out, eyes wide. “Botnairn. Nephilim delicacy. It gets them inebriated. To us? Tastes like regret. Smells worse.”

  Enkidar sniffed curiously. “Smells…potent.”

  The Autarch Bell pulsed toward a low-hanging fruit. Metial’s smile widened. The Bell chimed—warm, almost amused.

  “Very well,” Metial said, voice layered. “You may partake, Nephilim.”

  Metial reached up greedily, fingers closing around a swollen orb. He bit down with relish. The foul juice ran down his chin, glazing his possessed eyes instantly. A faint glow bloomed around him. His shoulders relaxed, and laughter bubbled low and uncharacteristically from his lips.

  “It… sings,” he murmured, swaying slightly. “The resonance opens it's halls.”

  Sari stared. “That’s… disturbing.”

  Enkidar tried a small taste, but shook his raptorian head in disgust. “Apkallu blood rejects it.”

  Nix hid deeper in the vest. “Told you. Regret.”

  The crew worked quickly. Sari and Enkidar set to work on the phase drive. Nix kept watch from above.

  Nix flew to a nearby small cistern. It was a stone water-capturing structure, lined with runes that glowed faintly. He hovered over the edge and peered in, his curiosity overriding his customary caution.

  A shadow lunged.

  A Felinari, a one and a half foot tall, cat-like humanoid, with bronze fur, a glowing ankh collar, held a curved blade in one paw. It's razor claws extended from its free hand, and leapt from the cistern shadows, slashing at Nix’s wings with the blade.

  Nix yelped, dodging, wings tearing slightly. He cried out, “Help! Enkidar!”

  Sari’s torsioner snapped up. The blast of force knocked the Felinari back, but at that range it was little more than push. Enkidar lunged forward with a powerful flap of his wings. He launched a powerful kick, and his talons raked the air as the cat twisted away.

  The Felinari hissed, blade flashing to its sheath as the cat-like thing retreated back into the cistern, vanishing into shadow.

  Nix landed hard on Enkidar’s shoulder, wings trembling. “It… it came out of nowhere.”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Sari scanned the cistern. “Scout. They know we’re here now.”

  Enkidar nodded while he steadied Nix. “The ship’s ready. The cloak’s holding, for now.”

  Metial’s smile never wavered. The Autarch Bell pulsed once. The constant hum was impatient, expectant.

  “Onward. The forger’s echo is close.”

  The Prism lifted, her engines humming low. The low ceiling pressed down. The hanging Bells glowed softly in the distance. The huge crystals that provided the life sustaining light rang with their own rhythm.

  Then the alarm was raised.

  A single, piercing chime rang from the cistern. The sound was sharp, urgent, echoing through the strata.

  Another joined it. Then another.

  The hanging Bells above began chiming in unison. The very rhythm of alarm. Brilliant bursts of violet-gold light flared through the crystals along the ceiling in unmistakable warning beacons.

  The obscene clamor of the chimes cascaded down from the mile-high ceiling in urgent, overlapping waves. The sound was not music; it was a warning, sharp and alive, vibrating through the low strata like a living thing. Light flared along every hanging crystal, turning the farmlands into a pulsing, bloody twilight.

  Enkidar snapped the Prism upward, engines screaming as the cloak flickered once, then held. “They’ve seen us. Patrols inbound.”

  Sari’s hands flew across the console. “Three phase ships converging! Ping reads two scouts, one cruiser. They’re cutting off the roads.”

  Nix clung to Enkidar’s shoulder, wings still bleeding from the Felinari’s wicked blade. “We can’t outrun them!”

  Metial stood motionless, the Autarch Bell at his hip glowing brighter with each chime from above. His voice came layered, calm, almost amused. “We do not outrun. We outmaneuver.”

  The Prism dove low, skimming the tops of Botnairn trees. Grotesque fruit swung past the viewports, veiny orbs pulsing in time with the alarm Bells. The smell seeped through the quantum seals: that same rotten-sweet decay that made Sari gag again. Nephilim phase ships cast long shadows across the fields, hulls gleaming like knives in the hanging light as they closed the distance with frightening speed.

  Enkidar banked hard between water-capture towers; their massive stone structures rising like ancient sentinels, runes glowing as the Prism passed. One tower loomed too close; the ship scraped its edge, sparks showering. “We’re too low! Ceiling’s closing in!”

  The low roof pressed down claustrophobically. The crystals and Bells hung so close their light painted the deck in violently shifting violet-gold as they passed. A massive Bell swung lazily ahead, its chime a deep, mournful note that rattled the hull. The Prism weaved through them like a thread hurled through a needle at hypersonic speeds...too fast, too close.

  A scout ship appeared ahead. Smaller, sleek, Felinari-scaled. The World-Tree wood vessel cut across their path in an attempt to phase trap them against one of the huge crystals. Enkidar yanked the controls and the Prism rolled as it dove. Enkidar leveled out just above ground level, skimming a field of glowing livestock. The multi-headed grazers scattered, lowing in panic.

  Sari shouted, “Incoming! Port side!”

  A second scout flanked them, cannons charging crimson. The Prism shuddered as a grazing shot scorched the shields, which flickered feebly for a heartbeat.

  Metial’s eyes narrowed. The Autarch Bell pulsed. The chime was sharp, commanding. He looked up through the viewport, past the hanging crystals, toward the ceiling’s jagged tear where they had entered.

  “There!”

  The word cracked like a whip.

  Enkidar’s hands froze on the controls. “That’s virgin rock...straight up! We’ll tear the hull apart!”

  The lesser serpent Bell at his hip hissed in dire warning. The tone was low, a sound that carried death’s own certainty.

  Metial’s voice was ice. “Now.”

  Enkidar snapped his beak shut, but his hands moved. The Prism pitched upward and her nose climbed toward the ceiling’s forbidding surface. The low roof rushed closer. The tower sized crystals blinked wildly, while the Bells chimed in their frantic, ceaseless alarm.

  The ship hit virgin rock.

  The phase field screamed. Hull groaned, sparks cascading across the deck. The illusion of gravity faltered. Sari slammed against her console. Nix tumbled from Enkidar’s shoulder as his equilibrium was undone. The ceiling tore open above them. The jagged strata ripped wide as the Prism plunged upward.

  Ruby light flared behind.

  The Gardens fell away.

  The Prism burst into the next stratum, which they found to be dark, cold, and silent anthracite.

  The chase was over.

  But the alarm Bells still rang in their ears; faint, distant, unrelenting.