Crimson Compass

nder the weight of centuries. Waves battered the ship's corpse, half-swallowed by a reef no sane sailor would dare chart. Kael wasn't sane, though-no

aw of the hold below. His torch flickered, spitting embers into the dark. The storm had driven him here-three days off course, rations gone,

dows danced as his torch swept the hold-barrels split like skulls, a skeletal hand clutching a busted spyglass.

sharp, bloody red that pulsed like a heartbeat. Kael's pulse quickened to match. He crouched, prying the rope away with his dagger. The obj

o rust, no wear-just that eerie light, spilling over his scarred knuckles. He'd seen trinkets before, peddled by liars

oo close. The compass flared brighter, and the needle snapped to

sped, sharp as a blade on stone.

old and unyielding. He scrambled back, torch clattering, heart hammering against his ribs. The wreck shuddered again, ti

t meant to drag it-and him-under. Kael hauled himself onto the reef, the compass clutched tight, its glow cutting through the storm's gloo

ose over the din. The big man clung to the oars, his bea

d hard, cursing the waves. Kael didn't look at the others-little Jyn with her patched cloak, or

arp despite the tremor in it. She lean

should toss it overboard, let the sea swallow it. But the weight of his debts pressed harder than the storm-the

lly, tucking it into hi

Torv barked a laugh that sounded more like a growl. "

to the black heart of the storm. Wherever this Vault was, whatever Veyra meant, he'd find it