HollowChildPrologue

- THE HOLLOW CHILD -
Prologue
Hopeful
***

The wind was howling, hiding the world beneath a tempest of snow and screaming. It brought a chill with
it, frigid fingers that expertly probed for any weakness in the thick clothing that Archibald wore. The fur
of his coat buffeted against the back of his neck, doing its utmost to shelter his skin from the stinging
cold. The fierce storm had transformed the mountains into a landscape of churned ice. He rubbed his
mittened hands together, hoping to find any semblance of warmth that he could in the frozen nightmare
around him.
He'd expected the mountains to be cold. They all had. When the m​ ighty ​Hopeful has left port with its
holds filled with thick pelts and winter clothing, the last thing that Archibald had expect to struggle with
was the all- consuming freeze that he found himself in.

He looked up to the grey, ice-ladened sky and searched for the iron belly of their waiting ship. There was
nought but the blanket of snow to greet him, so thick that he could not even glimpse a silhouette of their
battleship. A gnawing fear ate at him, consuming him like the tendrils of cold that had taken his
extremities. He replayed the memory of se​ tting the ​Hopeful’s tethers into the mountainside again and
again. No matter how many times he told himself that the iron spikes would hold, the absence of the ship
itself continued to plague him with v​ isions of the ​Hopeful being pulled from its holding and crushed
against the mountainside.
“Archie” called a voice over the gale’s terrifying wail. He could not identify the speaker, the wind
stealing all individuality from the small cry. Archibald turned his attention to the silhouette that emerged
from the wall of spinning ice. His beard was crusted with a thick layer of frost, his chapped skin a bright
red underneath the white. Instinctively, Archibald reached for his rifle, shouldering the frozen weapon as
his colleague approached. With his other arm he picked up the struggling lantern at his feet, holding it
close to his own snow-caked features. The silhouette gestured for him, beckoning him to follow him into
the storm’s embrace. Archibald wasted no time, eager to leave his futile watch post as soon as he could.
Pulling him back to camp could only mean one thing and he could not wait to be free from the thick snow
and cold stone around him. He followed his comrade as best he could, following the shrouded figure back
towards their campsite. It was only metres, yet every step was a heavy endeavour. The trails he’d carved
through blanks of snow mere minutes ago had already refilled but mercifully he could step into path made
for him the wake of the his colleague’s steps. Even so, it was a true labour made harder by his frozen
limbs that barely responded to the simplest command.

It took minutes before Archibald could see the ambient glow of the camp’s fire but even the shortest
distance was so difficult the times stretched to hours in his mind. As they reached the edge of the
sheltered camp, Archibald’s guide turned to wait for him.
“Sergeant says summins’ happened wiv’ the University lot. He’s callin’ us all in” the soldier shouted over
the wind, adding another gesture for emphasis. Archibald nodded, patting his colleague on the shoulder as
he moved past him.

“Have you got Godwin and Turnip yet?” he asked, invoking a swift shake of the head from the
frost-encrusted man. Archibald pointed towards an seemingly arbitrary point in the fog of snow, painting
a mental image of the landscape when they first arrived. “They're over there on the outcrop, remember it?
Hurry, it's not far but if this storm kicks up and more we could lose them.” The soldier gave an
affirmative nod before he turned and began wading into the grey and white once again. Archibald
watched him disappear, his figure swallowed up after only a handful of metres.

As soon as the silhouette was gone, Archibald made his way towards the camp’s centre. Through the
endless barrage of snow, he could see the movement of men around him, each shrouded figure enacting a
unique frenzied task. The sight gave Archibald a wave of relief, knowing full well that the others had set
about dismantling the​ ir camp. The thought of the heated bowels of the ​Hopeful gave him him a feeling of
warmth he hadn't felt since they'd arrived upon the frigid mountainside. With renewed vigour he pushed
towards the huddle of figures that stood by the by battered flames of the campfire. Archibald could
recognise the two from their stance alone. The closest was his commanding officer, Sergeant Farrow, his
posture rigid and proper at no matter the chaos around them. The other was a less respectable man, the
black leather of the Inquisition poking out from beneath his thick fur overcoat. Archibald did not know
his name, despite the months they'd spent aboard the same vessel. He didn't want to either. From the
simple footmen to the highest academic, the University folk were all the same, stone, sneers and secrets.
Whatever their enigmatic endeavour was it was responsible for all for his current misery.

As Archibald approached Farrow turned his attention to him and gave a formal nod.
“Corporeal Wicks, I trust you have gathered the nature of the situation” Farrow said in his formal tone.
Archibald nodded and adjusted his rifle as he came to a halt in the flicker glow of the fire.
“Yes, sir” Archibald replied.
“Good, save th​ e breath. We’ve little time. Admiral March will be bring the ​Hopeful down any minute
now and I want everyone ready to leave when he does.” The news was better than any lover’s kiss. The
Inquisitor glared at Farrow with shadowed eyes, before pulling his fur hood tight and turning from the
group. Farrow paid him little heed, focused instead on Archibald.
“Has the expedition returned, sir?” Archibald inquired, the eagerness clear in his voice as he watched the
Inquisitor disappear into the shrouded campsite
“No, they're overdue. We have timings to keep” Farrow replied gravely, his frozen features forming into a
determined grimace. Archibald’s happiness took a plummet. They were not leaving yet. Despite what
Far​ row said, Archibald knew the University would never allow for the ​Hopeful to leave without their
people, even if it meant waiting for another day in the frozen waste.
“What’s keeping them?” Archibald growled as his dreams of warmth were delayed. He remembered who
when the expedition left. All manner of carriages and shed filled to the brim with odd clockwork and
whirring machines. They'd taken a small army up into the mountains, leaving only one of their own and
the promise of a swift return. They'd been gone a week. Archibald doubted that their rations would hold
for that that time.
“Whatever it is, we’re not waiting to find out. These are cursed mountains, everything here is tainted in
one form or the other. I'm not risking our lives for their sciences. No matter how important they claim it to
be” Farrow spat, shooting a foul gaze towards the spectre of the Inquisitor.

Before Archibald could respond a cry cut over the howling winds. It was little more than a muffle, a small
hiss that lost its meaning to the cries of the wind. The Inquisitor perked up immediately, his half-hidden
frame disappearing into the snow before them at a breakneck speed. Farrow’s brow crumpled with
confusion and he turned to face the origin of the sound. For a moment there was nothing, whomever had
cried out seemed to have no intention of speaking again. Farrow shot a nervous look to Archibald, hidden
beneath his stoic features in a manner that revealed his true feelings only to those that knew him well. He
looked on the verge so speaking before the sound of a gunshot cut the turbulent air.
“Fuck. Did anyone see where that came from?” Farrow cursed, immediately drawing his service revolver
from the depths of his winter cloak. Archibald wasted no time in placing his lantern into the snow and
drawing his own weapon. The firing mechanism was stiff, as was the loader, and he briskly set about
brushing as much of the ice from his rifle as possible. He cursed silently for allowing his weapon to
become so frozen. It was sloppy and he knew it. Another gunshot sounded, then another and another, all
fired in quick succession.

Others around the camp had begun to pay attention, stopping their various tasks and readying the own
weapons. More shots echoed across the mountainside and somewhere far in the distance a tumultuous
crack sounded.
“They'll bring the mountain down on us” barked Farrow as he loaded his weapon with a trembling hand.
“What the fuck is going on?” Another shot rang out accompanied by the flash of a muzzle from within the
blanket of ice. Archibald loaded a round of his own, pushing a cartridge into the icy chamber of his rifle.
Silhouettes formed from the snow, six in all frantically rushing towards the camp with a fervour that
Archibald did not think possible in the conditions. The first shape to emerge was impossible to recognise,
a thick coat covered in snow hiding her identity. Only a bedraggled strand of silver-hair poked from under
her thick hood, a small clue as to the person that hid beneath the trappings. As she appeared in the glow
she waved she hands frantically, gesturing behind her hurriedly.
“We need to leave” Farrow barked to the men around them. “Send up a flare now!” The cloaked figure
was joined by her comrades all of them ravaged with the fury of the elements around them. As the leader
drew closer Archibald recognised her as one of the academics, although her features were nearly
unrecognisable beneath the thick chunks of snow. Her dark eyes were alive with pure fear as she moved
towards them.
“What is going on?” Farrow roared as he approached the Academic, his pistol aimed upwards as he
rushed to her sides. The others of her team tumbled after her, there heavy packs forcing them down into
the snow. Archibald scanned the group, seeing no sign of the Inquisitor nor the majority of their team.
Archibald scanned the horizon, expecting dozens more to emerge from the snow at any minute. Nothing
came.
“Where are the rest of you?” He called to the group, keeping his rifle posed to fire at the location. As he
gripped the rifle he felt the cold metal eat through his mitten, hungry to get to the flesh within. The first
researcher waved her hands towards them, her voice lost to the storm. Without those words Archibald
could only make out one thing. The fear in her every movement.

There was a sharp hiss from behind Archibald, followed by a boom as a red flare went up into the sky. It's
crimson light cut through the vicious storm, washing the landscape in the colour of blood. The flare was
buffeted and swirled around the campsite as it battled against the wind. Somewhere above them a new

roar joined the gale, the unmistakeable sound of the ​Hopeful’s engines igniting. The thunderous sound
was joined by the sharp crack of something firing above. With a rattling hiss a tether embedded itself
beside the campfire, sending a spray of snow into Archibald’s face. The wire of the tether began to rattle
and rumble as the ship above sent down their means of escape.
“Where are the rest of your team?” Farrow implored, his movements uncharacteristically frantic.
Archibald could see him kneading the grip of his gun in a vain effort to calm himself.
“Gone.” The single word was all Archibald heard of the academic’s response. Farrow’s expression
dropped any semblance of sternness and he looked to the group with wild eyes.
“Corporeal, get these Academics onto the raft” he ordered, pointing directly to the winch beside
Archibald. With a wild sweep of his arm he gestured to the remainder of his troops. “The rest of you take
positions. Forget the gear and focus on defending our position. If anything comes at you, shoot it.”
Archibald wasted no time, rushing forwards he took the first Academic by the arm and hoisted her into his
shoulder. He felt her arm wrap around him as he dragged them towards the tether. Somewhere in the
distance another gunshot rang out.
“What the fuck is going on?” Screamed a nearby soldier, panic in every syllable. Archibald cocked his
head, looking back towards the obscured surroundings, his soldier’s eye eager for any target to aim at.
Something terrible was happening. His gut told him that much. Out in the blizzard’s embrace something
was coming. Beside him the Academic mumbled something, her words caught inside her woollen scarf.
Her aged features were cracked with anxiety and exhaustion, as if she'd been running for hours with death
itself on her heels. The tether continued to hiss, the metallic ringing growing stronger with every passing
moment. Archibald looked up to see the gondola descending upon the wire. He'd never truly studied the
metal carriages before and now he realised just how small they were. There would scarcely be room for
five upon the small platform.

He turned to face the haggard academics, calling them to him as their escape hit the snow. He unlatched
the door with a grunt, the frozen lock protesting any form of movement with a sickening screech. When it
opened he pushed the thin metal door open with a swift kick. The Academic beside him needed no
assistance, scrambling inside the corrugated compartment like a feral animal. Once inside her slumped
against the metal frame, her gloved hands clutching onto her temples as she rocked back and forth. She
was secure, that's what mattered and Archibald rushed back to join the remaining academics.
“Move, move!” He called pushing them towards the carriage as he spoke. They were all locked in the
same expression, wide eyes filled with terror. They're horrified visages did little to quell the fear already
gripping his own heart. Another series of gunshots rang out, this time in rapid succession. Only the
University of Technology’s own weaponry could produce such a swift volley. Somewhere out in the
blizzard an Inquisitor was battling for his life. The thought allow chilled Archibald more than the worst of
the storm. After the volley another muzzle flash broke through the dense snow, revealing the Inquisitor’s
nearby location.
“Mullins, Red get out there!” Bellowed Farrow from amidst the chaos. Two nearby men scrambled out of
Archibald’s sight, guns ready. They were braver men than he. Farrow wheeled round to face Archibald
and began to call to him. Whatever the sergeant was about to say was drowned out in an instant by a
sound unlike anything Archibald had ever heard. The unnatural roar drowned out even the might of the
storm, a wave of snow blew through the camp as something in the haze before them detonated. There was
a iridescent flash of azure that near burnt Archibald’ eyes from his sockets. With a howl of pain he

collapsed, his weapon flying from his hand as he fell. The air itself fizzled with energy, causing
Archibald’s skin to shudder and his hair to stand on end.
“We've got to get out of here!” Wailed a voice Archibald did not recognise as he staggered back to his
feet. The flash of light stayed with him, it's fading image stained onto his retinas. There was another
gunshot immediately followed by a wicked cerulean flash. A terrified wail cut through the blizzard’s
requiem. It was a bloodcurdling death cry. If something just killed an Inquisitor then their only hope was
to escape.
“Archie, get those Academics out of here! Now, corporeal! Now!” barked Farrow with a broad wave of
his hand. Archibald didn't need the order for him to spur into action. The fear propelled Archibald to his
feet and he scrambled through the snow towards the cart. He did not look for his weapon. Whatever was
out in the snow was too great for such things.
“Hold, you blasted cowards” roared Farrow and Archibald could see he wasn't the only soldier rushing
towards the carriage. The cluster of academics were shuffling to get in. It would never hold them all.As
Archibald approached her grabbed the closest one and hurled him backwards with a heavy grunt. The
Academic offered little resistance, his exhausted body unable to do anything but tumble to the snow. The
next scrambled frantically to get onboard. In his arms he held a bundle, something wrapped in thick layers
of cloth. One of the academics already aboard lunged forwards. With a scream of rage she pulled the
bundle from her colleagues grasp before kicking him to the snow. Archibald seized the opportunity
treading over the fallen researcher and pulling himself onto the small corrugated space. More gunshots
rang out. The common sound of the Royal Military armaments.

He wasted no time grabbing the ice-ladened lever and pumping it into escalate. Immediately the carriage
began to shudder, its whirring cogs dragging it upwards along the wire. From the ground a soldier fired
towards them, his shot hissing into the back of one of the exposed academics. She fell forwards, her body
slumped against her colleague in the cramped space. Archibald pulled his sidearm from his belt, his
mittened hands making even his action near impossible.
“We’ve killed them all” mumbled on of the academics, a frantic looking man who clutched at his bald
scalp. Another round sparked off the metal of the carriage, sending a scream from the academics nearby.
With great effort Archibald loaded the six shots into his revolver, overcoming his frigid digits. He pushed
himself through the academics, leaning against the metal wall of the small cart.

Beneath he should just about see the silhouette of the shooter. Whomever it was had long since become a
featureless spectre amidst the howling wind. He fired again, his shot lost to the wind. As Archibald aimed
to retaliate he saw another pale flash erupt from the skyline. Another blast of snow rocked the camp and
caused the carriage so wobble violently upon its tether. A fresh series of screams echoed from beyond the
icy tempest, almost animalistic in their pain and fear. The moving shadows of his comrades were clearly
panicking, firing shots into the thick snow around them.
As the cart continued to rise the camp started to disappeared into the haze of snow. Only the ambient
glow of the fire was visible along with the frantic sounds of gunshots piercing the night. Archibald could
hear shouting although it's messages was lost as he ascended. The first of the academics pulled on his
sleeve, drawing his attention towards her. Her chapped lips and ice-crusted features were contorted into a
grim look, her dark eyes stern and hard.

“We have to leave. There's no time for them” she called over the storm. Her silver hair buffeted around
her face as she pleaded with Archibald. Her eyes darted towards the ground as another boom echoed from
the campsite. “The H​ opeful won't survive this. If she doesn't move them we’re all dead!” Archibald
looked back to rapidly obscuring scene and watched as the gunshots continued to flash from the campsite.
Another blue flash ripped through the landscape, hurtling towards the camp itself. The bolt detonated,
sending bone-wrenching tremor through the cable swinging the carriage violently. Someone fell.
Archibald watched as one Academic tumbled over the side, little more than a hurtling bundle of fur and
ice. He screamed as he fell but it was cut short almost immediately. Archibald clung to the edge of the
cart, holding on for dear life as it swung violently. The surviving academics did the same, the limp body
of their comrade falling limply from their lofty escape. There was only three of them now. All clinging to
the wobbling carriage for dear life.

It was then Archibald’s eyes were drawn to the academic’s body. She clutched onto the bundle of rags
with all her might, cupping it into the crease of her arm whilst she used the other to keep her inside the
carriage. There was something about it. Something important to all the madness surrounding them.
Slowly the cable cart continued to ascend, its path slowly to a crawl by the shuddering of the wire. The
turbulence of the wind alone was enough to uproot even the sturdiest of meals and it was all Archibald
could do not the wretch up his rations for the day. Above the skyline darkened, the enormous shadow of
the ​Hopeful looming from the torrent of snow and ice. It was monolithic. It's immense grey belly emerged
like a wall of iron from the storm’s violent embrace. It's huge cannons stuck out like a giant’s fingers
clutching at the sky itself. Below and series of gunshots echoed. These were frantic, several men firing at
whatever was killing them.
“What the fuck is down there? What’s happening?” Archibald barked at the grey-haired scientist, who
was hunched beside him. Her wild dark eyes met his and she shook her head.
“We...I….don't know. I've never seen or read of anything like that” she replied, her voice barely carrying
over the wind’s constant screams. Archibald looked back down at the grey haze where they'd come from,
seeing no sign of his comrades or their campsite. With the central fire gone all that he could see was the
endless whirling of snow. No more gunshots rang out. Not a shadow moved or a scream echoed.
Archibald looked back to the H​ opeful, his eyes dancing over the huge ship’s frame as the small carriage
came level with its deck.

No one waited long to pile out of the cart. Archibald watched as the academics tumbled over one another
to reach the hard surface of the ​Hopeful’s deck. Archibald barely waited for them to land before he
jumped onto the hard wooden surface. Beside him, was the metallic crack of the tether being realised and
Archibald turned to see one of the crew standing beside the tether’s mechanism. He looked Archibald up
and down with a wild expression, his mouth hanging open in shock at the sight before him. The
grey-haired academic stood first, almost slipping in the icy deck as she began to run towards the bridge.
Archibald did not follow, to weary from his ordeal to chase the strange woman.
“What's happening?” Called the crewman as he set about securing the shaking carriage. Archibald shook
his head in reply and threw up his arms.
“Something's killing us. We've got to get moving” he replied, his voice laboured and cracked from effort.
The crewman’s brow crumpled with surprise and he shook his head in disbelief.

“Ain't nothing in the whole Gone World that can threaten us here. ​Hopeful’s the pride of the navy and
she's more than earned the title.​” He chuckled coldly as he spoke and turned his attention back to securing
the machinery.
“Nothing will help us, if we don't get out of here” wailed one of the academics and he clambered to his
feet. “There's an Afflicted down there. It's like out of a nightmare. I've never seen something like it.” As
the Academic spoke the H​ opeful’s engine made a mighty groan, shaking chunks of ice and snow from the
deck as the battleship shuddered into life. Archibald looked up towards the command deck, unable to
make heads or tails of what was happening within the steel walls of the bridge. He rushed to the edge of
the deck peering down into the icy depths for any sign of his comrades. The thick stench of coal filled the
air as the ​Hopeful began creep forwards through the blizzard.
“There are still people down there!” Archibald cried out looking wildly around for any officer to help
him. Seeing no one he pushed forwards, rushing towards the command tower to find anyone to help his
comrades. He shouldn't have left them, he knew that. His cowardice wouldn't cost them their lives. They
could still be saved.

Archibald swung open the heavy door with all his remaining strength, sprinting up the metallic steps that
lead to the bridge. Crewmen dodged out his way as he lunged upwards, their eyes full of silent questions
as they watched him pass. He had no time to stop. With every moment the gargantuan ship was building
more and more momentum. His time aboard the ​Hopeful had taught him never to underestimate the speed
of the ship. Despite her unmatched size she would cut through the air like a fiend. The entire ship rumbled
as the engines continued to build speed, every inch of the halls vibrating and shaking from their immense
power. Archibald’s limbs roared with pain as they protested every climb of the steps. His body was
exhausted but he wouldn't let his friends down. There was still a chance to save them and that glimmer of
hope fuelled him through the fatigue.

He burst onto the bridge like a madman. All around him, officers turned to stare at the bedraggled soldier
before them. The room was filled with hundreds of workstations, all adorned with a multitude of gauges
and levers. In the centre of the room stood Admiral Match, his crisp white uniform blurring with the
backdrop of the blizzard that obscured anything through the plane windows behind him. His greying
whiskers framed his stern features and he turned to look at Archibald with a look of contempt on his stoic
face. Beside him stood another Inquisitor. This one was dressed in her formal attire, a black uniform
threaded with blood. In her hands was the strange bundle he'd seen with the academics, her gloved hands
clutching it tightly to her breast.
“Soldier, what is the meaning of this?” growled the Admiral, his grey eyes burning with a silent ferocity.
Archibald took a moment to compose himself, his breath laboured and painful.
“Sir, Sergeant Farrow is still down there. We need to help them” he implored, his voice cracking with his
obvious suffering.
“Sergeant Farrow and his men are doing their jobs. We will do ours” Match responded in a flat tone.
Turning to his crew and giving them a small nod.
“We can't just leave them!” Archibald replied his tone filled with acquisition and misery. The Inquisitor’s
face grew dark and she glared at him with a terrifying expression.
“Know your place” she spat through a grimace. “Those men have died in service of a greater cause. You
should hope to be as lucky.” Match didn’t not respond turned his full attention to the bridge crew.

“Full speed, gentlemen. Raise altitude until we're above this bloody storm. I want some damn visibility”
he ordered, not a hint of regret in his voice. Archibald’s stomach churned with anger as he watched the
crew rush about their duties. The faces of his comrades floated to the forefront of his mind along with
images of their frozen corpses adorning the cursed mountainside. The pain echoed that of his body but
Archibald was not foolish enough to challenge the high command. With a great sadness he bid a silent
farewell to his brothers in arms.

All around the ​Hopeful continued to rumble as she ascended in an attempt to escape the blizzard’s
embrace. Admiral Match paced to the large windows and paced back and forth as he watched his ship
rise. The Inquisitor marched towards Archibald, brushing past him roughly as she exited the bridge.
Match watched her go from over his shoulder, a small grimace barely visible under his style moustache.
As the Inquisitor left, Match turned and gestured to Archibald, a steely look in his eyes.
“Soldier, tell me what happened” he commanded, his stony eyes locked with Archibald’s own.
“I don't know, sir. The Academics left on their expedition and something came back with them”
Archibald explained. His head was filled with the chaotic events, every memory rushing forwards at once.
“Any idea what they brought back?” Match inquired, his brow crumpled in quiet worry.
“They said it was an Afflicted, sir.” Match shook his head in disbelief.
“By the tenets, one afflicted did all this? What,by all that is good, is the University doing out here?”

Without warning there was a mighty crash, rocking the ship violently. The bridge lurched sideways
forcing everyone to grip tightly onto the nearest surface.
“Ensign what was that?” Match barked as he regained his footing.
“By logic itself” muttered a nearby crewman. Archibald followed their gaze and looked forwards at the
glass planes before them. Right before his eyes the blizzard was fading, the swirling ice dissipating by the
second. Archibald could scarcely believe it. Within a handful of seconds the sky was clear, the tempest
and all its might was completely gone. Match himself looked at the sight with a look of complete shock.
The veteran sailor’s expression revealed it all. Something truly wrong was happening around them.
“Lookouts, give me something” barked Match, his features regaining their usual professionalism. One of
the crewman answered.
“There's something out there! It's...it's flying sir!” Match wheeled round to face the speaker, his face
contorted in stern determination.
“Get men to the guns. Show this afflicted bastard what happens to enemies of the Confederacy!” Another
shock rocked the entire ship, forcing everyone to their knees once more. “Now, ensign!” Roared Match as
he scanned the horizon with a fury in his eyes. Archibald followed the admiral's gaze and a gasped
escaped his lips as he saw a flash of blue light soaring across the deck. If he hadn't seen it he wouldn't
have believed it. It was a man, soaring through the sky with a speed that no ship could match.
“What in all the Gone World is that?” Archibald exclaimed as the flying man threw a bolt of energy
towards the deck itself. As it connected the a portion of the deck was engulfed in a mystic display of
azure. It shook the vessel again and sent splitters of wood and metal through the air. As Archibald
watched knew why his comrades never stood a chance. Whatever the academics had done to bring such a
creature down upon them had doomed them all.

Just as the creature flew round for another pass one of the great cannons of the ​Hopeful fired. The shell
collided with the beast, devouring it in a sphere of vicious flame. The crew cheered and Archibald himself
couldn't help but laugh with joy as the explosion rocked the skyline. All eyes were focused on the spot of
impact. Where the beast once flew, now the sky was empty.
“So much for that” chuckled a crewman from his workspace.
“Keep a steady course, men. I want us at full speed back to Locker’s Hope” Match commanded, relief
creeping into his tone. Archibald felt the hot sting of tears drip down his cheeks. Safety.

“Sir, the wind. It's...it's stopped!” cried one of the helmsmen, her voice cracking with fear. Match’s face
dropped, his eyes turning cold with fear.
“Full alert, everyone! Batten the hatches. We've got at spellstorm!” He roared, rushing to the helmsman's
workstation. Archibald looked up at the skyline and watched in horror as a dark stain spread across the
horizon. It rushed forwards at an unbelievable speed, devouring the landscape and the sky itself as it
rushed towards them. The display of weather was like a nightmare made manifest. The clouds before him
warped and twisted into unbelievable shapes, iridescent flashes of light emanating from within the wall of
terror that was consuming all before them. Archibald had heard the stories. Any sailor had. He knew what
unnatural doom was descending upon them where all laws of nature were destroyed and rebuilt in an
instant. Where affliction ruled and madness held court. The was nothing they could do to escape their
fate. The disaster was already upon them. He watched the monster moving towards them and felt his legs
tremble beneath him. Cyclones fired out at completely random angles, resembling hideous tendrils that
probed the sky around the advancing storm.
“Everyone, remain calm” barked Match into the speaker before him. “I need complete focus if we are
going to survive this. Retract the all fans, everyone into the hull.” His voice crackled over the ship’s
communications systems. Match paused and looked up at the imminent storm. “The Confederacy believes
in us and I believe in you. Stay strong.”

It hit the moment after, rocking the ship backwards like a twig in the wind. It was an impossible feat yet
the ​Hopeful was thrown with no resistance. The force sent Archibald flying to the ground and all around
him crewmen were dashed against surfaces to a cacophony of screams. Lighting of every colour filled the
room with their eerie light and the ship shuddered and groaned as it was bombarded by the full might of
the storm. The air itself hummed with energy, burning Archibald’s skin and eyes. He gagged and grasped
for a nearby railing, clinging onto it for dear life as the ​Hopeful was buffeted in every direction. Beside
him the Admiral clung to the piping, his face contorted with pain and fear. The wailing of the injured
filled the room alongside the sickening crunches of bodies rebounding off metal. The force of the storm
rocked them in every direction and soon Archibald felt his stomach churn with nausea as the H​ opeful
inverted.

Archibald’s fingers cried out in agony as he gripped the railing that had become his salvation. Every blow
the ship received nearly wrenched his arms from their sockets. Few of the crew had fared as well as him.
The bodies hurtling around the bridge with leaving splatters of blood wherever the landed. Without
warning a bolt of lighting collided with the window and it exploded into a thousand shards of molten
glass. The screams of those hit by the burning glass were drowned out by the fierce roaring of the wind.
Another bolt launched into the hole colliding with a nearby crew member. A dazzling ray of light filled

the poor woman before she crumbled into ash before Archibald’s eyes. He could do nothing but scream,
his own voice lost to the vicious howling of the storm. More energy crackled through the room, latching
onto flesh wherever it could find it. Some were obliterated instantly, whilst others were dragged from the
bridge by the monstrous tendrils of energy. Beside him, Match convulsed as the crackle of lightning
struck his leg. The smell of cooked meat filled Archibald’s nostrils as the Admiral was thrown against a
nearby wall.

Without any warning the ​Hopeful ceased its gut-wrenching spinning and Archibald was filled with a
sickening feeling of falling. He looked up as he watched the sky turn bright once more as the hideous
storm released its grip. Smoke lapped along the​ Hopeful’s deck, pluming from huge craters upon every
surface. They were in freefall and the sickening rush of air grew more and more intense as the might ship
plummeted from the sky. The land around them was a barren white and it rushed up to greet the tumbling
ship. Archibald scanned the bridge, his panicked eyes searching for any sign of life amongst those who
could save them. Nothing moved. With a howl of terror Archibald watched as the the ​Hopeful plummeted
towards the ground. There was nothing he could do to save himself. As the ​Hopeful collided into the earth
only sand and blackness rose up to met him.

***