The krows' history

The lab feels quieter now.

Not complete silence - there’s still the soft ticking of old machines refusing to die, and the faint hum of rain sliding over the camouflaged web membrane above - but the tension that pressed down on their chests has dropped after being more comfortable with this place.

The unconscious krow soldiers are gone. Their outlines are no longer scattered across the floor, and the broken equipment has been pushed aside to make space.

Everyone sits in a rough circle near the center.

Vellithar sits tightly beside the patched wing of Drok. Arthur sits against a fractured pipe that runs through the wall. Asa rests cross-legged, half-meditating, with her staff beside her. Spidaract squats low, his limbs folded neatly and his eyes are unmoving.

Crunket stands in the center while trembling in nervousness and cold.

The krow’s feathers are matted from earlier rain, and his coat is a patchwork of worn leather and scorched fabric. His talons click against the lab floor to grab everyone’s attention.

“You deserve an explanation,” he says, breaking the silence. “And I…I will give you one.”

Arthur nods slowly.

“I built this lab ten years ago,” Crunket begins. “But my dream started far earlier.”

He walks toward the largest of the blueprints, brushing it with the back of his talon.

“You may not believe this, but for most krows, flying isn’t the end goal. It’s just the beginning.”

He turns, eyes clearer than before.

“Every child in my city grows up knowing stories of the place beyond the sky. Not just the clouds or the storms, but the place beyond every barrier. They say that beyond it, the air changes. They say that the sky becomes thinner and colder. It is a fact that no creature was ever meant to survive there, but that place also hides the truth of the world.”

Spidaract tilts his head. “What truth?”

Crunket shrugs. “Everything, but I just want to know one!”

Vellithar’s eyes narrow slightly.

“There was just a single krow who has flown that high,” Crunket continues. “But when he came back, he ordered every document sealed, every map approved and every further exploration about that place banned. The penalty is death. He just gave a vivid justification that the world had been seen fully. That we already know enough.”

He looks around at the lab’s decaying equipment with a proud eyes.

“But I didn’t buy that. I never have. And I never will.”

He lifts a small metal capsule from the floor and sets it on the table, a flight-enhancing potion, glowing pale green.

“This was going to be my solution. A booster to fly higher than any wingbeat could carry. Yet, even though I had made hundreds. None lasted more than a minute in the air.”

He sets it down gently.

“I built this place in secret, gathering scraps, testing alone. Always hiding from the guards and just daring to go outside at night. I’ve been mocked and hunted, but a man never gives up his destiny!”

Asa opens her eyes and looks directly at him. “So how are you planning to make people know about it?”

“Good question,” Crunket nods. “I call it ‘The Rewrite’ - my demonstration. If I fly past the edge and return with something new, they’ll have no choice but to accept the truth. And the king would be forced to answer all of my questions.”

Arthur looks at Crunket with the eyes he once used to look at superheroes in comics.

“We will help you!” He shouts, making the whole room surprised.

Crunket meets his gaze. “There it is, a real man with a true fighting spirit!”

Spidaract sighs, he is just thinking about how to make peace with the krows’ king, but there comes the plan.

“What exactly do you need?” Arthur asks with his fist clenching.

Crunket bows low. “I need help moving the equipment and finishing the assist other than the ‘super amazing pill’. I have the knowledge, but I am unable to do it alone.”

Asa lowers his gaze. “And what would this ‘help’ involve, specifically?”

Crunket gestures toward a tarp in the corner. Beneath it is a half-assembled launch contraption of tangled springs and pivot arms. A reinforced seat lies in the center.

“Setting that up, defending it and protecting the launch site when I go.”

Arthur eyes the machine with amazement.

“Are you gonna launch yourself like a rocket?” He asks.

Crunket says nothing.

Asa looks to Arthur, then to Spidaract, then to Vellithar. No one says anything, as if they are waiting for someone to tell Arthur.

“We’re not here to start a civil war,” Asa says at last. “We’ve got our own mission, remember.”

“Helping to start the launch of the century is more than enough for an alliance,” Crunket says.

He walks to a rusted panel and flips it open. A moment later, steam hisses out of a cracked pipe near the ceiling. The old air system kicks in again with some unsettling noises.

“Beside,” Crunket adds. “Remember those soldiers, they should have finished posting your wanted faces all over the city by now.”

He walks back toward Drok and sits cross-legged beside the dragon, beginning to apply salve to the stitched wing.

“…So this is your only path forward.”

Arthur freezes.

Crunket looks up, a tired smile on his beak. “When I become an idol, you guys would gain so much reputation that…apparently, I can’t think of the next word.”

Arthur rubs the back of his neck. He’s not sure whether he is feeling annoyed or impressed.

“Fine,” he mutters.

Asa smiles faintly. Vellithar sighs.

Spidaract’s voice is low. “I will not help a criminal next time, bird.”

Crunket chuckles. “Thank you.”

He looks up again, eyes gleaming.

“Tomorrow…we will build the launch.”