The grass gave way to sand.
It began as a whisper in the soil—grains too fine, too pale. Then came the scent, subtle and vast: salt, seaweed, and something old. Finally, after weeks of treks through ruin-torn hills and golem-scarred passes, the Ash Company crested a ridge and beheld the coastline.
The sea stretched out like the sky fallen to earth, reflecting a twilight of bruised indigo and ember pink. Far out, the horizon swallowed the sun.
They had made it.
"I'll be damned," Peter muttered, hands on his knees. "We didn't die."
Roa gave him a wry look. "Yet."
Behind them, Craterhoof's thunderous gait slowed to a halt. Thornjaw's piercing red optics dimmed in the dying light. The two Aegis golems stood vigil on opposite sides of the bluff, their shoulders like watchtowers, while Kindling radiated heat like a forge still waiting to cool. The other golems stood silently, finally given permission to rest.
Fornos was the last to climb the ridge. He stood, silhouetted against the dusk, cloak flapping in the wind. "We camp here. Our ride comes tomorrow."
Martin, ever efficient, immediately barked orders to the logistics crew. Tents came up. Cookfires were built. Park and Mark, mute as always, simply gestured once, and the handlers wordlessly started binding the golems in low-power hibernation mode. The engineers followed Peter's lead, securing the codex nodes with temporary seals.
Later that evening, with the moon rising behind them and the sound of waves crashing far below, they gathered again—for one last story.
The cliffside became an amphitheater. Children huddled around Fornos, their backs against the warm sides of resting golems. Roa sat nearby, arms on her knees, watching the ocean's endless rhythm. Peter leaned back against a rock with a half-eaten chunk of hardbread in one hand.
Fornos took a deep breath.
"Our ride will be here tomorrow," he said, voice quieter than usual. "So let's keep this one short."
The kids grinned. They knew better.
"There was a city once," Fornos began, "called Lymgard. Sat right along the coast, like this one—except the sea there never slept. It crashed and roared all day, all night. You couldn't hear a whisper inside its walls without yelling."
"Lymgard was famous for two things: it exported salt-glass and had the best prankster engineers in the Alliance. Not just tricksters—artists of mockery. They once fooled not one, not two, but three noble houses with a decoy golem operation that nearly sparked a war."
A few of the older handlers raised brows. The younger ones leaned in. Fornos smiled faintly.
"You see, the nobles were sniffing around Lymgard's shoreline—heard rumors about a new kind of aquatic golem being developed there. Something sleek, fast, capable of navigating the reefs without relays."
"Each house sent a spy. The engineers caught them on day one."
"So, what did they do?" Martin asked, half-laughing.
"They built decoy golems. Enormous ones. Six-legged freaks with water bladders that hissed steam, dummy cores made of polished stone, and codices full of bad poetry. All nonsense."
Peter chuckled. "Poetry?"
"Not even good poetry," Fornos said. "Stuff like 'The fish does swim / in brine and gin / behold my fins / I twist and spin.'"
Even Roa laughed at that. The children giggled themselves into hiccups.
"The spies each stole the designs and ran home. And then the nobles—idiots that they are—each built their own versions of the fake golem, assuming the other houses had done the same."
"Months later, three noble banners marched into the shallows outside Lymgard, each piloting some horrible steam-hissing crab-fish abomination that leaked oil and spat limericks. When they saw each other, they realized they'd been had."
Peter shook his head, smiling. "That can't be true."
Roa leaned forward. "Fornos. Be honest. That real?"
Fornos looked up at the stars.
"As much as I wish it wasn't… yes. It's true."
There was a long pause. The waves below filled the silence.
The children, exhausted by laughter and the day's journey, began nodding off, curling against packs and blanket rolls. Roa stood, stretching, and walked over to Fornos.
"You'll miss telling stories, won't you?" she asked.
Fornos glanced at her. "Maybe."
"They made us forget we were running."
"I didn't tell them to help people forget. I told them so they'd remember what kind of world this really is. The weird parts. The terrifying parts. The parts too ridiculous to be anything but true."
Roa nodded. "Still. Thanks."
Dawn
The sky bloomed with light.
It wasn't gradual—it arrived. The kind of sunrise that bathed the whole sea in gold and turned every face along the bluff into a silhouette of awe.
A distant blast echoed from the sea. A horn, deep and resonant, rolled across the water like a Relict's breath.
"There," Peter said, pointing.
On the horizon, the ship appeared. First a shadow. Then a fortress. It surged into view, a titan of ironwood and gleaming brass. Dozens of golem-grade cannons lined its sides. The hull was ribbed with black steel. Its three-tiered deck towered over the surf like a castle grown from the sea itself.
Craterhoof grunted. Peter swore the golem actually recoiled slightly.
Martin adjusted his glasses. "We're fitting on that?"
"Yes," Fornos said simply.
As the vessel neared shore, runic relays along its prow flared to life. Four smaller relay drones detached and floated down toward the camp, preparing the signal link between golems and vessel core.
A massive boarding ramp slammed into the sand, sending up a plume of dust.
Then a figure walked down—tall, armored in silver-plated leather, his helm adorned with antlers of black bronze.
Prowler.
He raised a hand in greeting. "Shall we?"
Fornos gave a brief nod, turning to the Ash Company. "Start boarding. Help the handlers with the codex alignments. Pack light—leave what you don't need."
And so, the Ash Company moved.
Children were carried onto the ramp, still half-asleep. Engineers strapped supply crates onto Kindling's back. Logistics crews rolled barrels of provisions, their boots crunching on sand. Park and Mark moved in perfect silence, coordinating the golem transfer with gestures alone.
Craterhoof was the last to ascend. As his great limbs thudded onto the ramp, the ship actually tilted for a moment.
The boarding took hours. But when it was done, and the ramp was pulled up with a clanging groan, Fornos stood with Roa and Peter at the railing.
They watched the cliffside fade behind them.
"So ends the ground chapter," Roa said softly.
Fornos didn't answer.
His eyes were fixed on the horizon ahead.