“Still alive, old man?” A triumphant and cheerful question rang through the brasscomms and onto the deck of The Silent Secret. No longer in secured airspace, she slowed down to a quickened pace, but not one that would blow her precious cargo overboard.

“J-just barely…” Flamel gasped, his stomach having already emptied its contents three times. The old man took a minute to double check everything was still intact, his precious cargo included. Aside from sore ribs and a bruised core, he was surprised to feel marginally alright. 

The engine was near his head, so it made the brasscomms a touch more difficult to comprehend, “Come on up to the bridge. I got questions.”

Whistler sat in the captain’s chair, a singular hand on the wheel, the other clutching his side, “Alright, you old coot, what the hell was that back there? What’s that thing we brought with us?”

“Eh…” The professor shifted his cloak around, putting himself between his contractor and his possession. “I-I told you th-this is the k-key for eternal life…”

Yelping in pain, Whistler took his hand off of his hip, “Sure, sure. And I’m Copperhead Joe.” He waved his hands around taking an indignant tone, before returning to his accusations, “The Academy must want that real bad if they sent as many thugs as they did after it.”

Flamel nodded, “It-It’s my li-life’s work…” He wheezed, finding it harder to breathe after the injuries he sustained during their getaway, reminding him of his age, “Th-the Academy thinks that just by throwing me a few contributions, th-they’re entitled to the wh-whole thing…!” 

“And they actually think it’ll work?” The young man asked, plainly seeing the professor embrace the strange object that emitted a light purple glow from beneath his cloak, “Let me see that thing again.”

It took a few stubborn seconds until the professor finally relented, holding out the glowing object towards Whistler. Now in the well-lit cabin it was plain to see that what he held onto was shaped like a small flask made out of roughly scored crystal. If it were not for the old man’s reverence towards the object, the sheer number of assassins sent to retrieve it and the eerie violet glow it emitted, Whistler would have thought it were some form of knick-knack one would find in an antique store.

Looking at the old man once more for confirmation, the captain sat back down continuing to nurse his side, “Alright, who am I to judge such things?” Squaring himself up behind the wheel once more, he turned towards the still presenting professor, “Okay Gramps, where are we going? It better be close or else we’re gonna have to push the rest of the way there.”

To the untrained eye, navigation aboard the airships that sprawled around the world through the relatively vast and empty skies could prove difficult. Miles of nothing but the sun, the clouds underneath and the immense blue tapestry that stretched from horizon to horizon above would drive any man mad if spent enough time within. 

Thankfully, Whistler was unlike those who found their safety atop the unknown number of sky islands that broke up the unrelenting freedom the open air offered. “Are we getting close?” The captain asked, looking over at his client now fiddling with the map he kept in his bridge.

“I-I can’t make heads or tails of this da-darned thing!” The old man shouted, holding the piece of paper up and orienting it in a way he would hopefully understand.

Eyeing the fuel gauge, the captain stood from his chair after slowing the ship down to a crawl. Come to find out, a few knives managed to strike him during their mad dash to the docks. One stabbed him near the bottom of his right scapula, another bit into his left hip, but the nastiest wound was the blade that dug into his side, something he pulled out once he got behind the wheel. The ship carried more than her fair share of medical supplies given her line of duty, but without any knowledge other than general first aid between the two, he would certainly have to see a doctor upon reaching land.

“I’m stepping out for a second.” His sore groin was nothing compared to being literally stabbed, but it still protested each time he stood. Half-limping out onto the open deck, Whistler leaned over the port railing, lighting up a cigarette he kept in a stash by the wheel. Mr. Thimns usually got onto him for not only his habit, but keeping it within arm’s reach of where he could easily spend a day chain smoking while driving. 

Pausing for a nice drag, necessary after the day he already had, he carefully blew the smoke above him, letting the breeze take the carbon residue away before diluting into the air around him. With another toke, he repeated the action noting the smoke flowing directly behind him. An easterly wind, commonly seen on the longitudinal line just north-west of Sommerset. “Shit. Never got that compass calibrated…”

With his smoke break concluded, the captain took the helm once more before delivering the news to his client who was still fumbling with the yellowed paper, “We’re just outside of Slough. Is that what you’re looking for?”

“Ah!” The old man chimed, finally settling on holding the map upside down, “That’s exactly wh-where we need to be, boy!”

“Is there anything I need to be on the lookout for or are we just heading into town?” 

Flammel crossed his arms and closed his eyes as if conjuring the image within his mind, “A-a small island… Three palms… Blackened st-stone underneath…”

“Uh huh…” Whistler conceded. “If this job weren’t paying 400 thousand…”

At the end of the hour and nearly the end of the fuel meter, The Silent Secret pulled beside an uninhabited island the professor swore was his goal. While it matched the description of being a floating chunk of dark stone just below the standard altitude, more than just three palm trees inhabited the island, something the giddy professor simply waved away. 

Stepping onto the dislodged floating piece of earth, Flamel nearly took off running as well as he could as soon as he touched ground.

“Hey! Where are you going, Gramps?” Whistler quickly caught up to the old man who was huffing and puffing by the time they reached the grasses that poked out from the loose stones that coalesced atop.

“T-time waits for no one, boy!” Despite his apparent exhaustion, he continued to soldier on towards the center of the small island. No more than fifty feet across, the two actually reached the destination in a reasonable amount of time, “It- It sh-should be h-here…”

The captain scanned around for anything of note on the center of the abandoned rock. Aside from the now seven palm trees, a small pond of grass and a large white stone that protruded out from the center of the island nearly three feet, there appeared to be nothing that would give someone eternal life. 

Flamel slowly staggered his way towards the ivory rock, his breath becoming more and more labored, “T-tell me, boy…” Finally reaching the central stone, he leaned against it, nearly doubling over, “Wh-what’s the strangest th-thing you’ve e-ever seen?”

Whistler stood back. The question seemed unprompted. A few points during his tenure of skyfaring came to mind, but nothing enough to fit the narrative put forth.

Seeing his query answered by a shrug, the professor adorned a mad grin before holding a hand towards the white stone, “W-well, you’re gonna s-see something qu-quite miraculous t-today.”

The stone shifted responding to a strange glyph that flashed at the end of the old man’s hand before pulling itself away from him revealing a hole leading into the interior of the island. A polished steel ladder showed little use or exposure to the elements the rest of the rock endured was built into the side of the pit.

Sticking one foot down before pulling it back, the professor sat himself on the ground, trying to shimmy himself into the hole. 

“I-I’m going to need your h-help down…”

Much similar to his tiny lab in the Academy, the small room carved into the center of the island was shrouded in darkness save machine displays spilling green light out onto the rough dark stone floor. Barely high enough for the average lowlander to walk through, it would be easy to ask how one managed to bring down such equipment into the crawl space. 

A veneer of dust coated each and every surface, causing Flamel to hack up a lung upon entering. “L-leave the hatch open…” 

“Uh… Sure.” Whistler walked through the space. Just like back in the lab, he was unsure as to what the machines were measuring, just that the color changed. “So, what’re we here for, Gramps? Where’s this ‘eternal life’ you keep promising?”

The old man was crouched by another hatch on the other side of the room. Twisting the valve he simply grinned as the sound of rushing air hissed, “P-patience, boy…” A new ladder was revealed as it reflected the red light that shot out from the space below.

Taking one last ladder downwards, Whistler turned around to see something he could barely comprehend: bodies suspended in tubes. 

Only five bodies with their own containers could fit in the even smaller hidden room: one highlander male toddler, a blue feathered Krea female in her early teens, an embryo of indeterminable race and sex, a lowland male no older than five years of age. Lastly, against the wall opposite to where he stood, a blonde lowland woman floated in the tank, her eyes closed. 

 “Uh… Gramps, what are you doing down here?” Whistler asked, looking around trying to take in as much information as possible. 

The bodies appeared as inert as they were floating naked in these glass containers. Suspended in a liquid that glowed red with a backlight that pushed past the bodies and filled the room, it was a strange assortment of people the mild mannered professor possibly abducted. Only the container at the head of the room was instead showing a green light, something the professor appeared excited about, “These?” He asked almost innocently, “Wh-why these are spare b-bodies. Homunculi. G-Grew these myself o-over th-the last few y-years…”

“I don’t know what that means.” The captain tried his best to comprehend what he stumbled into. Were all book learning sorts like this?

Flamel chuckled, placing a hand on the green lit container containing the fully grown lowlandswoman, “I-I told ya, boy… Eternal life…” Gripping his crystal container even tighter, he continued, “Th-the body is frail… B-but if y-you can tr-transfer yourself into a-a new one…”

“Th-then you could live f-forever…”