Another of Windchaser’s secondary balloons explodes high overhead with a thunderous CRACK!, and the ship’s bow plummets to a heart-stopping 45-degree angle. Those not clinging desperately to something solid begin sliding helplessly across the tilting deck, their hands scrambling for the numerous ropes and rigging now swinging wildly from the ruptured balloons above. The airship begins a slow, ominous clockwise spin as it descends through the clouds—slowly at first, then gathering terrifying momentum.
Clutching the ship’s wheel with white knuckles, Nesquo watches in helplessly as his bunk mate, Gandalf, slides past him toward the bow. The quick-thinking wizard manages to catch himself on the gunwale just before tumbling from the Windchaser. His feet now dangle over nothing but empty sky. The forest is two hundred feet below, and coming at them too quickly.
Nesquo snatches a length of rope slithering past him and wraps it securely around the wheel’s pedestal. With his free hand, he hurls the other end down to Gandalf, whose boots kick frantically in the open air. The wizard releases one precarious handhold to grasp at the rope. Success! Gandalf now swings freely from the rope’s end, tethered to life by Nesquo’s quick thinking.
⚔
The second explosion hurls Canaloa from the ladder connecting the decks. The tiny tiefling plummets downward two stories, striking the hold’s planks with a bone-jarring thud that drives breath from him.
Canaloa’s eyes widen as Istyher gracefully slides down the ladder, somehow missing his prone form entirely before rushing to help Astrid pry open boxes and crates with urgency.
Astrid suddenly whoops in pure triumph, her voice cutting through the
chaos.
“Parachutes! A dozen parachutes!” She tosses one to Istyher and another to the gasping Canaloa, then tucks multiple bundles under her arms and vaults over the recovering tiefling to scramble up two stories to the tilting top deck.
⚔
Below decks, Three thrashes wildly, throwing himself away from the invisible menace beneath him. Desperate to escape whatever lurks in the shadows, he tears the door from its hinges and staggers up the gangway toward the open air of the top deck.
Back in the cabin, Grapalt pulls himself upright and tumbles into one of the bunks as the ship groans around him. Through the floorboards, he feels the vessel’s sickening spin beginning to accelerate.
⚔
Fighting against the ship’s wild angle, Astrid manages to toss parachutes to everyone she can spot on the chaotic top deck: the Captain barking orders, Sergeant Bailey clinging to the mast, and the two remaining crewmen. She slides two bundles across the slippery planks to Nesquo, who catches the first with skill, then snatches the second. With careful precision, he lowers one down to Gandalf, who is dangling like a pendulum below the ship’s bow.
⚔
Meanwhile, in the smoke-choked engine room, the orc crewman’s agonized screaming has fallen ominously silent. Fred stumbles blindly through the oily, toxic fumes, completely disoriented and unable to find the exit. Moving through the deadly haze, he trips over the smoldering body and burns himself badly on the scorching metal. Fred shoves himself backward with a cry of pain, desperately trying once more to locate the way out. If he doesn’t find it soon, the deadly fumes will claim him, too.
⚔
Using every available handhold, Astrid claws her way toward the blazing engine room. The door hangs askew on twisted hinges, and she hauls herself upward using the door frame, calling Fred’s name through the billowing smoke. He emerges like a specter from the thick black smoke, and Astrid presses a parachute into his trembling arms.
From somewhere above the chaos, they hear the Captain’s booming voice: “ABANDON SHIP!”
With shaking hands, everyone now on deck strapped into their parachutes, praying to whatever gods might be listening that they’re wearing them correctly. One by one, they leap over the side into the rushing wind as the doomed ship continues its mad plunge toward the emerald treetops below.
⚔
Hauling himself onto the top deck just in time, Grapalt watches the last of his comrades—wearing the last of the parachutes—leap over the gunwale into the void.
Three is the final crew over the side. Without hesitation, Grapalt barrels after him, windmilling his arms and legs frantically to reach the falling dragonborn. He misses landing on Three’s broad back by inches, and instead grabs hold of the paladin’s muscular legs. Now Grapalt swings by Three’s boots like a living anchor while Three yelps in sheer panic and surprise.
Glancing down through the rushing air, Grapalt notices two startling things: first, where his feet should be, he can see straight through to the approaching treetops—he’s still wearing the Boots of Invisibility! Second, he and Three are plummeting toward a clearing far faster than the others, who drift gently beneath their billowing parachutes.
Beneath them, the airship strikes the earth with devastating violence, plowing through yards of ancient trees and burying its nose deep in the forest’s rich, loamy soil.
Grapalt hits the ground in the clearing with tremendous force, immediately crushed by Three’s considerable weight as the dragonborn rolls off him and onto his knees. The silk parachute settles over them like a shroud. Once Three fights his way free from the tangled fabric, the deathly still profile beneath the silk looks disturbingly familiar—very much like his friend and cabin mate, Grapalt.
Three kneels beside the motionless form, tugging back the silk to reveal…nothing. But as his hands pass over an invisible face, Three realizes this is indeed Grapalt. Calling upon his divine faith, Three lays on hands.
Golden light flows from Three’s fingertips into the invisible figure, briefly illuminating the dying goliath’s features in celestial radiance. The monk suddenly snaps to a sitting position, gasping desperately for breath. Once his eyes finally focus, he stutters in confusion, “How did I get here? And…what is my name?”
It becomes crystal clear to Three that his invisible friend has lost his memory entirely.
⚔
Fred cuts himself down from the entangling branches and calls into the forest, “Hey, anyone who can hear me, follow my voice!” From various directions deep within the trees, Fred hears the welcome sound of rustling and voices approaching. Soon, the Captain, Astrid, and the two sailors emerge from the green maze to join him.
⚔
In the distance, Sergeant Bailey pulls the parachute away from the figure hanging in the tree beside him. He gasps in shock as he reveals pale, alabaster skin and strange white eyes that lock onto his golden ones.
“Canaloa,” he declares with absolute certainty, “I knew you were a changeling!”
Istyher swallows hard but remains silent, choosing not to correct the sergeant’s mistake.
The sergeant demands imperiously, “Canaloa, restore your soldier form!” Istyher’s features flicker and shift like water, melding into the familiar face of Grapalt the goliath. The sergeant stares in complete bewilderment. “How could I have gotten it so wrong?” he marvels aloud. “All along I thought it was Canaloa, not you, Grapalt! I owe the little guy a tremendous apology.” Together, they make their way toward the larger group gathering in the distance.
No one thinks to comment when Three wanders up to join them, apparently alone. The actual Grapalt—invisible and forgotten—stands unseen in his shadow, a ghost of his former self.
Astrid asks with concern, “Has anyone seen Istyher?” No one has.
Istyher, wearing Grapalt’s form says nothing. The invisible Grapalt, with no memory of being Grapalt, also stays silent.
