Admiral Yan and Northern walked side by side. As they made their way out of Thunderhead, the Admiral couldn't stop glancing at the corners of the ship—the reinforced walls that seemed to absorb light, the joints and seams that shouldn't have fit together but did, perfectly, impossibly.
'I expected to see something mighty. Something impossible.' He swallowed. 'But my pitiful mind, even with that, still thought within a certain scope of expectation. But this… this… this ship is insanity. It's what happens when a craftsman goes mad.'
The delicate interwovenness of the engine hummed through the floor, a soft vibration that traveled up through his boots and into his bones. Admiral Yan could feel the power of the airship in the soles of his feet—a constant, patient pressure, like standing on the chest of something breathing. Each step required effort. His legs didn't want to lift. The ship itself seemed to resist his leaving, as if gravity worked differently here.
