Cypher paused, looking back at me. "It exists. The codex is very specific about its function. It doesn't just create realms. It can repair them too."
"Repair them? You mean collapsed realms like Nytheris?"
"Yes. With the Genesis Engine, I could stabilize what remains of Nytheris. Make it habitable again. Bring my people home. If that doesn't work, then making a new realm where we landed the Night-Piercer is our only option, but I have to try. Wouldn't you?"
I thought of my own home, of my mother's sickbed. Of the lengths I'd gone to trying to save both of my parents, and the things I would do to keep them out of harm's way.
"Yes," I admitted. "I would." He stared at me for a long moment, and I wondered if he expected me to deny it. "We should go," I said, finally. "If the denizens are drawn to this ship, I don't want to be here when more of them arrive."
He nodded. "The wayfinder indicates the Genesis Engine is in that direction." He pointed into the darkness outside a viewport that looked exactly like the rest. "If we keep moving, we might reach it before we have no choice but to stop and rest."
"And the others? Will we find them there?"
"It's likely, yes. The First Dark separates travelers, but it also tends to funnel them toward the same destinations. The Genesis Engine is incredibly powerful, and elementals will be naturally drawn to that."
I took a deep breath. "Then let's go."
We had just reached the gangplank when a chorus of wails erupted from the darkness. Not just one denizen, but many of them. We both froze in our tracks.
"Back inside," Cypher ordered, grabbing my arm and pulling me back toward the ship's interior. "Now!"
I didn't argue. We stumbled back into the ancient vessel, slamming the hatch behind us. Cypher threw his weight against it, sliding an old bolt into place.
"Will that hold them?" I asked.
"I don't know. But it's better than nothing."
I moved to one of the viewports, wiping away centuries of grime. What I saw made my stomach drop. Shadowy figures moved through the darkness. I couldn't count them—five? Ten? More? They flowed into one another, separating and rejoining like oil in water.
"There are too many. We can't fight that many."
Cypher joined me at the viewport, his shoulder brushing mine. "No, we can't."
"So what do we do?"
He was quiet for a moment. "We wait. The denizens are attracted to movement and energy. If we stay still and quiet, they might lose interest."
"Might?"
"It's our best option." His eyes met mine. "Unless you want to try fighting our way through them."
I looked back outside. The denizens were closer now, their elongated limbs reaching toward the ship, testing its surface. One pressed a face against the viewport, and I stumbled back with a choked cry.
"I think waiting sounds good," I said, moving away from it.
Cypher nodded. "We should find somewhere more defensible. If they get in, we'll need a place to make a stand."
We explored deeper into the ship, our footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. The captain's quarters were sealed, but Cypher managed to force the door open. Inside, the room was surprisingly intact. There was a bed, a desk covered in ancient instruments, and a small viewport that showed nothing but darkness.
"This will do," he said, closing the door behind us. "One entrance, easy to defend."
I sank onto the edge of the bed, exhaustion suddenly bearing down on me. How long had we been moving? Hours? Days? Time felt meaningless.
"We should rest while we can," Cypher said, seemingly reading my thoughts. "Take shifts. I'll watch first."
"No," I said too quickly. "I don't trust you enough to sleep while you're watching."
Pain flashed across his face, but he nodded. I hadn't meant to say that out loud, but it was out now and I couldn't snatch it back. I didn't even really mean it. I didn't think so at least. Some part of me, regardless of what he'd done, didn't think he was capable of outright violence towards me. But I was nowhere near ready to let him know that.
