The dragonfly ships had stopped trying to catch her.
That was the first thing I registered when I looked up — the organized formation that had been assembling over the water, the coordinated pursuit that had looked so threatening minutes ago, had abandoned its geometry entirely. Now they were just vessels trying not to be the next one she reached.
It wasn't working.
From a distance, the pattern was almost elegant. A red figure and a trail of falling ships, marking her path across the sky like a comet that had decided to linger and take its time about it.
One moment she'd be on a hull, greatsword raised, and the next the vessel would simply begin to come apart in a devastating explosion.
And to top it all, they burned beautifully on the way down.
Then closer — close enough to hear the sound the greatsword made going through hull plating —
