Voyage of the Star Streak

Tucked beside a narrow market lane, the cowl-faced merchant lifts the oilcloth from a crate. Blackened iron cannons rest within, their runes dimly alive, pulsing in time with the ship’s distant hum.

The cannons’ etched lines catch the faint glow from Kael’s armor, answering like a prayer heard twice. Nearby shoppers slow, but keep their distance, wary of the goods and the way the merchant watches the crowd.

The merchant’s gloved hand taps the crate edge once, then stills. The market noise seems to thin around the offer, leaving only the soft metallic resonance and the suggestion that someone else has noticed this exchange.

Kael accepts the bargain. Coin changes hands, and the hooded merchant’s caution turns to relief as the crate is closed and marked for transport.

By the time the Star Streak receives the load, the cannons hang in the cargo bay like sleeping beasts, their runes dimming to a steady ember under the ship’s hum.

Anna claims the work at once. She braces a shoulder to the first mount, checks the bolts, and signals for the second with a sharp, confident nod.

Sophie steps in close, red hair tied back, fingers hovering over the etched brass as if listening to a hidden chord. The cannons answer with a faint warmth.

Anna sets the second mount. Sophie traces the runes, and the metal settles into the ship with a low, satisfied vibration that joins the Star Streak’s pulse.

Below deck, the new armament sits ready, but its glow lingers a little too long on the bulkheads, as if something aboard the station has noticed the ship growing teeth.