Wings of the Stars: The Skyward Oath

October 30th

16:30 Hours

It had been three and a half weeks since Wolfsbane Squadron—or anyone stationed on Petrichor Island—had seen action.

But progress had been made in the war. Teyvat's combined military forces—from Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, and Fontaine—were now pushing deeper into Natlan territory.

Sumeru had begun reclaiming the Deshret Desert, establishing forward operating positions and deploying long-range anti-aircraft systems throughout the sands. And with those efforts, the full-scale offensive had finally begun.

Fontaine's Armee De L'air 405th Squadron—along with Nocturne and Tidal Squadrons—spearheaded an air assault on the Natlan naval base at Tequemecan. In a swift, brutal operation, they seized control of the port and airfield, officially opening the gates to Natlan's mainland.

Meanwhile, Petrichor Air Force Base remained eerily quiet.

And Emilie still hadn't quite recovered from the surprise Natlan assault weeks ago.

The flight line was the same as it had been since that day:

Four F-14A Tomcats, a couple of parked C-130s and C-17s, and the only two remaining F-5 Tiger IIs—the last survivors of a squad of rookies.

Emilie stood underneath the port-side variable-geometry wing of her Tomcat, the desert wind brushing through her hair as she stared at the near-empty ramp.

She thought to herself:

"Seeing a flight line this empty hurts...

But... seeing those kids, sorted into an attack they weren't ready for…

Seeing the life in their faces... the excitement to fly...

They wanted to be like us."

"But they were just kids hoping they'd come back to their families.

And now... some of those parents will never see their children again."

She sniffed once, wiped her eyes quickly, fighting back the wave of emotion.

She heard footsteps approaching from her right, but didn't turn. She already knew who it was.

Mona stood beside her, looking out at the flight line with the same heaviness in her eyes.

"What a sad sight..." Mona muttered.

Emilie gave a small nod, staying quiet.

Mona sighed again.

"Captain. I know that look. It's been four weeks."

Emilie exhaled through her nose. "Still can't stop thinking about what their families must be going through..."

She clenched her fist tightly.

"And that idiot we call a base commander knew damn well they were walking into their graves."

Mona placed a hand gently on Emilie's shoulder.

"Fuck him. You do what you have to do, Emilie. Karma's gonna strike him harder than we ever could."

That got a dry chuckle out of Emilie.

"Tch. Right."

Mona patted her on the back. "Come on. We've got a new operation today. Let's head in for the briefing."

Emilie nodded. "Sure."

Together, they walked back toward the main building. Through the sterile, dimly lit hallways, into the briefing room.

Base Commander Courbevoie stood at the front, arms crossed. Emilie didn't look at him as she sat down between Mona and Ayaka, arms folded, legs crossed.

The air felt heavy.

"Alright," Courbevoie began. "Now that everyone's here, we can start."

"Since their failed attempt to take our island, Natlan's forces have been quiet... until five days ago. Almost feels like peace again, doesn't it?"

Emilie scoffed. "Yeah... sure."

Then Maksim stepped forward, taking over the briefing.

"The Fontaine Air Force's Armee De L'air 405th Squadron launched the full-scale invasion of Natlan on October 27th. Operating out of Charybdis Air Force Base, they successfully seized the naval port and airbase at Tequemecan. The invasion has officially begun."

He flipped a slide on the screen.

"But for you? Today's mission is a patrol run around the Deshret Desert. Two aircraft will sweep the northern sector, two more in the south. Your patrol route will arc out toward the coast, then loop back."

He pointed to red circles on the map.

"The airspace is now fortified with our AA systems—Sumeru's surface-to-air network is hot. They'll engage anything they tag as hostile, so stay out of engagement zones."

"Keep your IFF clean. Maintain altitude. Stay sharp."

He gave one final look to the squad.

"You're dismissed. Come back in one piece. I don't want to see any more people die."

Emilie blinked.

He actually cares? she thought for a moment.

But then Courbevoie chimed in.

"Don't be reckless out there. Got it!?"

The moment shattered. Emilie stood up, grabbed her helmet, and walked out without a word.

The others followed—Teppei, Mona, and Ayaka.

At the flight line, the four walked side by side toward their Tomcats.

Teppei glanced around, letting out a long sigh.

"Man... it's a damn graveyard out here."

Ayaka nodded, somber. "Seeing those rookies fall out of the sky... it's still hard to believe."

Emilie tightened her jaw.

"I swear... karma will take care of that bastard commander one day."

Mona added, "Right. He'll pay for the lives of those kids."

Emilie glanced over her shoulder at her team.

"But that's not for us to do. That's for the gods of karma to settle."

Ayaka looked over. "Captain?"

Emilie raised a brow. "Yeah?"

"You feeling alright?"

Emilie gave a faint smile.

"Yeah. I'm better than I was a few weeks ago. But seeing this ramp like this... it still stings."

They each peeled off toward their respective birds.

Emilie climbed the ladder into her Tomcat's cockpit, settling into the ejection seat. She placed her helmet on her lap, reached down to secure her harness, then slid the helmet onto her head. A quick breath, and she flipped the switch to seal the canopy.

Hiss—slam—click. The canopy sealed shut.

Soon, the twin TF30 engines roared to life beneath her. One by one, her wingmates followed, taxiing out in a tight formation.

Within minutes, all four F-14s thundered down the runway and lifted off into the desert sky.

Their patrol over Deshret had begun.

Hours had passed. And the sun had begun its descent below the horizon.

Wolfsbane Squadron had split into two.

Emilie and Mona flew north of Deshret, their F-14As slicing through the sky, each turn smooth and calculated as they maintained their position.

Teppei and Ayaka were stationed in the southern region of Deshret, eyes scanning the horizon.

As Emilie and Mona continued their flight, their radios crackled to life.

Teppei's voice cut through, frustration in his tone.

"Ugh… that stupid base commander geezer really can't give us a break, huh…"

Ayaka's voice followed, light and teasing.

"Even though he's an ass, he still relies on us, First Lieutenant Teppei. Hey, congratulations on your promotion, by the way."

Teppei scoffed in response.

"Huh. That's weird. I don't feel any better."

Emilie chuckled into the comms.

"Alright, alright. Where are you two now?"

Teppei checked his radar, a slight frown crossing his face.

"Umm… around 150 miles south of you."

Emilie nodded.

"Roger that."

Suddenly, a weak signal broke through the static.

"...Damaged... Th...Fully... It's light…"

Mona keyed her mic, voice professional.

"Transmitting aircraft, please state your assignment and current status."

The crackling radio returned a reply.

"Finally! A response! This is the Teyvat Transport aircraft Meka One. We're currently flying to the neutral nation of Inazuma. We've got our transmitter set at minimum power."

"Please fly close to us to identify you."

Mona responded.

"Roger that."

Emilie's eyes scanned the skies and she spotted the aircraft.

"Hey, I see it. It's a 747."

Mona nodded. "Wilco. Following your lead."

Emilie pushed her throttles to mil power, no afterburners—just efficient, steady acceleration. Mona followed her lead, the roar of their Tomcats mixing as they cut through the night.

As they closed in on the transport, Meka One's radio came to life again.

"We see you on our radar now. If possible, can we have you guide us through the AA defenses? We're transporting the President from Sumeru to Inazuma. It's top secret and we're not transmitting any valid friendly ID signals to our allies."

The voice cracked again with static.

"Near the border between Sumeru and Deshret, a friendly AA missile clipped our wing. We barely avoided it, but the shockwave damaged our radar system, and we can't fly a straight path through the AA system."

Emilie keyed her mic.

"Wilco. We'll take the lead. Follow us through."

She throttled forward, Mona trailing behind. The two F-14s lined up with the transport.

Then Teppei's voice crackled through the comms.

"Fellas, looks like you've got bogeys inbound. Air Defense Command radioed us. It's an enemy formation heading your way."

Mona's voice had a smirk to it. "Understood. We're counting on you two."

Emilie scanned her radar, eyes narrowing as she spotted a potential path.

"Meka One, follow our lead. Looks like we've got a corridor to take you through."

The pilots of Meka One responded.

"Wilco. Just so you know, we can't make sharp turns. Our plane struggles with that."

Mona nodded, her voice calm. "Understood. The path is curvy, but no sharp turns."

Just then, the enemy voice broke in over the comms.

"Enemy target confirmed."

Teppei chuckled darkly. "Huh. Just like intel said."

Ayaka's voice came next, confused. "The radio's picking up enemy chatter too…"

Teppei laughed. "These fellas sound as sweet as Thunderspike! Like roses and sunflowers, I swear…"

The enemy voice cut in again, this time with a darker edge.

"Remember, just because it's a transport plane... If we take this one down, they won't just honor us—they'll build statues in our name!"

Another enemy voice, more skeptical, responded.

"You sure it's a transport plane? Or just a civilian airliner?"

Mona frowned, scratching her left hand.

"What the hell are they even saying?"

Just then, they entered the radar valley—a tight corridor, surrounded by layers of AA radar systems.

Emilie's voice was steady, focused. "Looks like we're in it now. Stay close, everyone."

Mona keyed her radio. "Meka One, change your radio frequency to 122.800."

"Roger. Changing frequency."

Mona's voice was back in her headset.

"Any more issues with your craft?"

Meka One responded.

"No issues so far. But we'd like to get out of here as quickly as possible. Just remember, we can't induce stress on the airframe. Fly straight as much as possible."

Emilie guided her F-14 smoothly, then responded.

"Don't worry. These turns are gentle—think of them like wide hairpins. You'll barely feel it."

The trio of aircraft continued, Meka One struggling to keep up, but following closely.

Then the co-pilot's voice came in, strained.

"We're losing oil pressure on engine two!"

The captain's voice was calm but firm.

"Throttle engine two back and leave it at idle. My aircraft."

The co-pilot's response was swift.

"Roger. Your aircraft."

Emilie keyed her radio again.

"We're halfway through. Keep holding out for us."

The planes flew deeper into the radar valley, the tension thickening as they neared the edge.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, Emilie keyed her mic again.

"Meka One, we're exiting the AA Defense System range. We're in the clear."

Meka One's captain responded with relief.

"This is Meka One. Roger. Thanks for your help. Until we reach Fontaine airspace… I hope you don't mind continuing to escort us."

Mona's voice was steady, reassuring.

"Of course, Meka One. Two more of our planes will show up soon."

Emilie checked her radar.

Two blue blips.

"Hey, looks like Soumetsu and Herring are nearing us."

Right on cue, Teppei keyed his radio.

"Raven, we've got you in our twelve. We're under your command now."

Emilie spotted new blips to the north.

"Wolfsbane, defensive positions! We've got company!"

"Herring, Soumetsu, continue escorting the transport plane!"

Mona keyed her mic.

"Meka One, separate and head straight for the Petrichor VOR. Fly at full speed!"

The captain's voice crackled through the radio.

"Roger, breaking away. Take care!"

Without hesitation, Emilie slammed the throttle forward, afterburners igniting as her F-14 roared to life.

"Raven, engaging!"

Her HUD came to life, the IFF identifying the enemy contacts.

Two F-14A's.

Two F-16's.

And two F-15C's.

Her radar blinked with more information, but just as quickly, the radio crackled again.

"Captain, we're losing engine two!"

"Right." The Captain said. Proceed with the engine shutdown checklist. We can't keep this going much longer."

She pushed the F-14 into a dive, maneuvering directly below the enemy fighters. As her airspeed rapidly increased, she yanked hard on the stick, pulling the nose of the F-14 into a high-G 180-degree nose-over climb.

Her heart slammed against her chest as the airframe groaned under the stress, but the aircraft held firm. In an instant, she leveled out inverted, tracing the enemy squadron in the distance, her eyes sharp on the HUD as it began to track the fighters.

The F-14 responded like an extension of herself, fluid and lethal. She rolled the plane upright, quickly locking onto the four enemy fighters.

Tone.

"Fox One! Fox One!"

Four SAAM missiles screamed away from the pylons.

The radar locked onto the enemy fighters, and she maintained the target lock, waiting for the missiles to find their marks.

Two of the enemy aircraft broke formation, dodging the incoming missiles, but the other two—an F-15C and an F-14A—were too slow. They were hit and immediately plummeted to the earth.

"Got one!" Emilie exhaled, not pausing as her mind moved on to the next target.

She banked right, in pursuit of the enemy F-14A. The moment the aircraft weaved through the sky in front of her, she matched the movement, threading the needle as she stayed locked onto the F-14's six.

The radio crackled.

"Starseer bagged a target!"

Mona's voice cut through the static as she scored a clean kill on an F-15C. A missile struck the enemy aircraft head-on, obliterating it in a flash of light.

"Nice kill, Starseer!"

Emilie's eyes remained locked on her target as the enemy F-14 tried to jink out of her firing range. Hard left turns. Hard right turns. The pilot was pushing their plane to the limits.

But Emilie mirrored every movement, each correction as smooth and deadly as the last.

Then, the opening.

Her eyes narrowed, and she flicked the switch to guns.

"Guns! Guns!"

She squeezed the trigger, her F-14's guns roaring as she fired a burst of tracers. The rounds slammed into the F-14, the bright yellow tracers cutting through the sky like a deadly storm. She watched as the rounds hit their mark, a direct strike to the F-14's right wing.

The wing exploded in flames, the aircraft spinning uncontrollably before erupting in a fiery explosion.

Emilie broke left, flying through the debris as the fireball lit up the sky behind her.

On the other side of the battlefield, Mona was locked in a dogfight with an F-16. The two aircraft weaved, one left, one right. The F-16 pilot was skilled, but Mona's control was tighter. Every move she made seemed to anticipate the enemy's next.

Mona grinned to herself. She flicked her thumb to guns.

The sound of the Gatling gun thundered through her headset as the F-16 weaved opposite of her.

She squeezed the trigger.

Tracer rounds tore through the air, finding their target. The F-16's fuselage, wings, and cockpit were peppered with hits. One round made it through the cockpit, ending the fight in an instant. The F-16 spiraled out of control, the pilot unable to eject in time before the plane disintegrated.

Mona jumped slightly from her seat, a smile on her face.

"Yes! Starseer bagged a target!"

But then the radio crackled, sharply.

"H-Hey! What are you doing?! Get back to your seat!"

And then—

A gunshot.

The 747, their transport plane, suddenly began dutch rolling.

Teppei's voice came through her headset, panicked.

"Hey! Something's going on! The plane is dutch rolling!"

Emilie cursed under her breath. She couldn't break away from the last F-14A, which was still hot on her tail. Her grip tightened on the stick, but she couldn't afford to leave the fight just yet. The transport was still in danger.

With her HUD flashing warnings, she shoved the throttles forward once more, afterburners igniting as she flew through a sharp left turn.

The F-14A continued its evasive maneuvers, but Emilie was relentless. She locked her sights on the target once more, just as it turned hard right. She yanked back on the stick.

"Fox Two! Fox Two!"

Two Sidewinders streaked away from her aircraft, cutting through the air with deadly precision. One missile hit the enemy F-14's center fuselage. The explosion was instantaneous—its tail separated from the body as the plane split in half, its wreckage falling from the sky.

"Raven's got a bandit!" Teppei's voice came through, full of relief.

But Emilie didn't have time to enjoy the kill.

The final F-16 had found its opening and swooped in behind her, locking onto her plane with a deadly tone. Her IFF blared with a lock warning.

Emilie slammed her stick to the left, breaking hard. Her heart raced as the F-16 locked onto her rear, its radar painting her with hostile intent.

She threw the F-14 into a series of unpredictable rolls, hoping to shake the missile lock.

Then, she remembered a maneuver from her training. She slammed the throttles to full power, pulling hard on the stick to climb. The F-14 screamed as it surged upward.

She pushed the variable wing sweep lever all the way forward, adjusting the plane's profile for maximum maneuverability. The right throttle went idle as she pushed full power on the left, stomping hard on the rudder. The F-14's speed bled off quickly, snapping into a sharp right turn.

The F-16 barely missed her.

Emilie quickly regained control, equalizing the throttles and pulling hard to get back on course. The F-16 was above her now, but it was close.

She got the lock.

"Fox Two!"

The Sidewinder tore away from the rail.

A direct hit. The F-16 exploded, its cockpit disintegrating in a shower of sparks and fire. The wreckage plummeted to the ground, trailing smoke as it fell.

Mona's voice crackled through the comms.

"All bogeys down!"

A new voice crackled through the comms—a female voice, tense but steady.

"Umm… Uhhh. This is… Um… This is Meka One. The captain has been shot."

Emilie's eyes widened as she immediately keyed her mic.

"What?"

Mona followed suit, her voice calm but urgent.

"We're on our way back to the transport now."

Another voice, a bit panicked, came through.

"Apparently, the First Officer was a spy. The other engines are failing too. We might not make it to Fontaine."

Teppei quickly responded, his tone sharp. "Hey! What kind of cargo are you guys carrying, anyway!? Is it something dangerous?"

The voice on the other end was strained but trying to stay composed.

"Well, uhhh… you can say I'm the cargo. The captain's been shot and the first officer is unconscious."

There was a brief silence before she continued, a bit more hesitant. "I'm currently holding the yoke. I do have some flying experience, but mainly in general aviation planes. Never an airliner."

Emilie and Mona quickly closed the distance, getting closer to the 747 transport plane, keeping a sharp eye on the situation. Teppei keyed his radio again.

"Okay, then who are you? You're saying you're the cargo, but…?"

The woman's voice, though rattled, still carried a sense of calm.

"I'm the cargo they mentioned."

Teppei's voice softened, trying to keep the situation under control.

"Anyways, is there anywhere safe you can bring her down? Any advice on landing a jumbo jet like this?"

Emilie responded with her usual, measured calm.

"Well, this is a desert, so it's flat, but avoid any place with a hill. As for advice on controlling something this size, all I can say is, anticipate its movements ahead of time. You need to be ahead of the plane, always ready for what comes next."

She paused, her eyes scanning the horizon, mentally running through the landing scenario. "On landing, lower your flaps first. Then lower your gear before putting the flaps to full, or you'll get a landing gear warning."

There was a slight pause from the other side.

"Roger, Ma'am."

Her eyes darted over the desert floor below, assessing every potential landing spot.

"There!" The "cargo" voice was more certain now, a flat area coming into view. "We can land there!"

She keyed her mic again.

"Are you still there? Miss?"

Emilie responded with a note of gratitude, "Emilie, Captain Emilie of the Fontaine Air Force's Wolfsbane Squadron."

"Ah. What a lovely name, Miss Emilie."

Then Teppei joined, slightly amused, chimed in.

"And I'm Herring!"

The "cargo" chuckled softly.

"That… is a great name too!"

Teppei, always one to add a bit of levity, laughed into the mic.

"I like you, man!"

The "cargo" responded with a touch of humor.

"Alright, we're about to land. Just… hang on tight now."

Ayaka keyed in, her voice calm and reassuring. "Surrounding airspace is clear so far. Everything is A-OK."

"Perfect," Emilie replied, her eyes locked on the horizon, the 747 now coming in for its descent.

The massive plane descended slowly, its massive engines humming as it lost altitude.

The GPWS callouts rang out sharply, a piercing electronic voice cutting through the air.

"300… 200… 100… 50… 40… 30… 20… 10."

And then, with a shudder and a groan, the 747 touched down on the sand.

Its landing gear held for a brief moment before it began to sink under the immense weight of the aircraft. The sand shifted, giving way beneath the pressure.

The speed bled off quickly, the plane slowing to a stop, but the weight of the aircraft forced its landing gear to sink into the soft desert ground. The engines were partially submerged in the sand, the plane now stuck but secure.

Emilie banked left, her canopy giving her a perfect view of the grounded transport. She glanced down at the wrecked plane, her voice steady as ever.

"Hey, you alright there? Looked pretty rough, but you landed!"

Mona keyed in her radio, her tone a touch softer now, concerned.

"Are you alright, Miss Cargo?"

There was a moment of silence before the voice on the radio responded, a bit shaken but clearly relieved. "Uhh… Yeah. We're alright. It was a pretty smooth ride until the landing though."

Mona let out a breath of relief before responding, her voice thoughtful.

"But… Ma'am, I got a question."

The "cargo" responded cautiously.

"Yes?"

Mona sighed, as though wrestling with something heavy.

"Do we really have to use the Bird of Peace for this war?"

Her voice was tinged with more than just the question—there was a deeper weight to it.

The "cargo" replied softly, understanding.

"Yes."

Mona's words were heavy as she spoke again, almost wistful.

"I wanted to see… your Bridge of Peace span into outer space."

The "cargo" spoke again, this time with conviction.

"It's still possible. With the Skywarden. We're on even terms now."

She continued though still soft, carried an undercurrent of hope.

"I'm supposed to be flying to Inazuma because I believe we all still have a second chance."

Mona continued

"To hold peace talks in neutral territory..."

The "cargo" paused, as though considering her words carefully.

"Right."

"Communication is vital in a peaceful world."

Mona's response was slower now, but filled with respect. "So I can believe in you then?"

She then let out a breath, her voice sincere. "I don't want to see any more young men and women die in this war."

Emilie, her gaze still locked on the horizon, keyed her mic with a sigh.

"Same here, Ma'am."

"Of the twelve rookies we flew from North Dornman weeks ago," Emilie continued, her voice quieter now, more personal. "Only two would come back from the operation after they arrived at Petrichor."

The "cargo" sighed deeply, the weight of the situation clear in her voice. "Me too, Captain Emilie. And…?"

Mona's voice was steady now. "First Lieutenant Mona Megistus."

"And Miss Megistus," the "cargo" responded with a touch of warmth.

Then Teppei's voice cut through the radio, a note of urgency in his tone. "Uh oh. Looks like I'm low on fuel, but enough to make it back to Petrichor."

Suddenly, a new voice came through, sharp and clear.

"This is the Teyvat Air Force 5050th Squadron. We observed the emergency landing on our radar. Do you have a visual on us?"

Emilie glanced at her radar, seeing the seven blips.

She switched her IFF on, confirming the identification.

Seven F-15 S/MTDs.

The voice on the radio continued. "You can leave the rest to us. We'll provide support for them until the crew has been rescued."

Emilie nodded to herself and then keyed her radio. "Roger 5050th. Please, take care of them for us."

The 5050th squadron leader responded, their voice soft but resolute. "Sure thing, Ma'am."

Emilie glanced at Mona before breaking gently right. "Alright, Wolfsbane, heading northeast to Petrichor. We'll leave the rest to them."

With that, the four F-14As banked to the right, heading northeast toward Petrichor Island, leaving the 5050th squadron to provide support for the grounded transport.

Hours later, back at base, the four F-14s lay silent on the flight line. The day had settled, but the base was anything but quiet. New pilots had arrived, this time in F/A-18s, an extra 12 from mainland Fontaine, along with a few from Sumeru.

Emilie and her team made their way back to the main building, their footsteps light but their minds heavy.

"Man... what a day, huh?" Emilie said, breaking the silence.

Mona nodded, not quite in the mood for conversation, but agreeing nonetheless.

"Yeah."

Teppei glanced at them, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Hey, who was that 'Cargo' anyway?"

Emilie chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she remembered the tense radio conversation.

"I know... seemed to be the president of Teyvat... Ma'am Imena."

Teppei's eyes widened, disbelief flooding his features.

"Whaaat?! You're kidding!"

Mona shook her head slowly, her tone thoughtful. "Sounded like her."

"And it makes sense," she continued.

"Talks of peace in neutral ground? Sounds like a ceasefire discussion between Teyvat and Natlan."

The following day,

November 1st,

There was no new operation. The squadron had a rare downtime.

Mona and Emilie relaxed in the crew lounge, the atmosphere subdued. Mona was lying on the couch, scribbling in her book. The air felt heavy, like a storm was waiting to break.

Mona sighed deeply. "What a start to the month..."

Houallet, who was seated nearby, tilted his head slightly, curious.

"What do you mean, Mona?"

Mona shook her head, her hand pausing in her writing.

"The Skywarden... has fallen into Natlan's hands..."

She glanced at Emilie, her voice laced with frustration and worry.

"They now outclass us in firepower."

"And it was the only trump card President Imena had for peace negotiations," she added, her voice dropping slightly.

Emilie rested her head on her arm, a deep sigh escaping her.

"And now... it's out of our hands."

Houallet sighed in response, the weight of the situation settling over them all.

"So, that means... we don't know how long this war will drag on for?"

Emilie nodded grimly.

"Yeah... and who knows if we'll be able to take out the Leviathan's sister ship, the Nuckelavee."

The war was escalating rapidly.

With Natlan now being invaded by Teyvat, the situation was growing more desperate by the day.

The Skywarden, once their greatest asset, was now in the enemy's possession.

And with it, they had no idea if it would be used against them.

One thing was for certain.

Taking out the Nuckelavee, the Faxi-class submarine, wouldn't be easy.

It was a formidable threat.

And with Leviathan's sister ship now a part of Natlan's arsenal.

The stakes had only risen.