-Year 7335, Ocean between Decatry Island and the Derylini Peninsula-
The boat has been sailing for hours. The sky is grey, the sea calm. Too calm.
I sit at the bow, legs dangling over the edge, watching the horizon. No land in sight. Only dark water, almost black, stretching in every direction. The wind is weak, but enough to fill old Remus's patched sails.
Gustavo is at the helm, speaking quietly with the fisherman. His twisted leg is stretched out over a sack of flour, immobilised with strips of cloth. He doesn't complain. He never complains.
Sara and Ariny sleep wrapped in blankets, leaning against barrels of brackish water. Sara's breathing is peaceful. Ariny, even asleep, keeps her brow furrowed — as if rest were an insult to her.
Ana is at the stern.
With her back to everyone.
Her dark golden hair sways in the wind. The burnt tips haven't returned to normal. The scar on her chest isn't glowing now, but I know it's there. I saw it when she woke.
We haven't spoken since she told me to look at the sea, not at her.
And that's what I did.
---
Old Remus scratches his grey beard and starts talking without anyone asking him to.
"The sea keeps secrets, boy. I've seen good men disappear on a foggy night. Whole ships, with men, women, children... everything. The sea swallows and doesn't spit out."
"Are you trying to scare us?" I ask.
"I'm warning you. The sea isn't an enemy. It's not a friend either. It's indifferent. Respect it, and it lets you pass. Disrespect it, and it reminds you who's in charge."
"How do we know if we're respecting it?"
Remus looks at the horizon.
"If you have to ask, you're not."
Gustavo laughs softly. A dry sound, without humour.
"The old man is right. I've sailed with sailors who made offerings before every voyage. Flowers, wine, sometimes cloth. They threw them into the sea and asked for passage."
"Did it ever work?"
"I've never died at sea." Gustavo shrugs. "You could say it did."
---
The boat creaks. The sails snap in the weak wind.
Sara wakes up, stretches, looks around.
"Haven't we arrived yet?"
"Not yet," I reply.
"I'm sick of smelling like fish."
"It's a fishing boat, Sara. It smells like fish."
"Well, it could smell like something else. Lavender. Cinnamon. Anything."
Ariny, eyes still closed, murmurs:
"There's no lavender at sea."
"There should be."
"When you're queen, you can plant lavender on boats."
"I will be."
"You won't."
"I will."
"No."
I stay quiet. Let them argue. It's good to hear them talk as if nothing had happened. As if the port hadn't burned. As if Ana hadn't killed a monster with red eyes and flaming hair.
As if I hadn't been useless.
---
Old Remus hands out lunch. Hard bread, the kind that breaks your teeth. Goat cheese, so salty it burns your tongue. Water from a barrel that tastes of rotten wood.
No one complains. Not even Sara.
We eat in silence. Ana stays at the stern, with her back turned. Remus takes her a piece of bread and a chunk of cheese. She accepts without thanking him.
"The girl is scared," Remus says quietly, when he returns to the helm.
"She doesn't look it."
"Fear has many faces. Some scream. Others fall silent. The silent ones are the worst."
I look at Ana. She doesn't turn around. The bread lies untouched beside her.
---
The sun begins to set. The sky turns shades of orange and purple. The sea darkens, from blue-black to total black.
Gustavo takes the helm. Remus lies down on a pile of nets and falls asleep almost instantly.
Sara and Ariny sleep too.
I stay awake. I can't close my eyes. Every time I do, I see the ice tentacle falling toward me. My arm freezing. The sword getting stuck.
The sword. Andy's. Arthur Erréndias's.
I lost it.
I stand. Walk to the stern.
Ana is sitting, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. She isn't crying. She isn't sleeping. She just exists.
I sit a few metres away. I don't want to get too close. In the last few hours, I've learned that she needs space. The air around her is heavy, like before a storm.
"I haven't done anything to you," I say. "Why do you treat me like this?"
She doesn't look at me.
"It's not about you."
"Then what is it about?"
"It's about what you are."
"What am I?"
She turns her head. Her brown eyes fix on mine. There's irritation in them, but also something else. Fear?
"Chosen. Like me." Her voice trembles slightly. "I can't stand being near you. And I don't know why. Your smell. Your presence. Everything about you irritates me."
"I'm also chosen. Of Macano."
"I know what you are. The system tells me. Revulsion."
"Revulsion?"
"Revulsion. You have 101. I have more. The chosen ones feel it. Some more, some less. It's not hatred. It's... disgust. Physical. As if you were rotten meat and I had a keen nose."
"That's horrible."
"It is." She looks away. "And I can't do anything about it."
We fall silent.
The boat creaks. The water laps at the hull.
"I'm scared, Ethan," she says, her voice nearly inaudible.
"Of what?"
"Of this. The power. The mark. I feel destruction boiling inside me. When I wake up, the first thing I think about is burning. Breaking. Killing."
"You can control this."
"What if I can't?" She looks at her own hands. "What if it's stronger than me?"
"It isn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're here talking to me. If it were stronger, you would have burned me already."
She almost smiles. Almost.
"That's not very comforting."
"It's what I have."
The boat has fallen asleep. Remus snores. Gustavo dozes at the helm, his hand still on the tiller out of habit. Sara and Ariny are curled up like two kittens.
Ana lies on her back, staring at the starry sky. The scar on her chest glows faintly, in time with her heartbeat. It shows through her tunic.
I stay awake. Not by choice. Sleep won't come.
I look at the dark water. My reflection is there, distorted by the small waves.
*Useless*, I think. *You were useless in the port. And you'll stay useless if you don't do something.*
But what can I do? I have no sword. No system. No power.
I only have fear. And the certainty that tomorrow will be worse.
Remus wakes suddenly.
"There," he says, his voice rough. He points at the horizon.
In the distance, in the darkness, a faint light. Yellow, flickering.
"Derylini lighthouse," he explains. "Still a few hours away."
"Can we make it today?" I ask.
"We can. But I don't want to."
"Why not?"
Remus looks at the sky. The stars are covered by thin clouds that weren't there minutes ago.
"The weather is going to change. And sailing at night, with wind, near those rocks... is asking to die."
"So what do we do?"
"We wait. The sea isn't going anywhere."
Gustavo wakes up, stretches his neck, looks at the clouds.
"The old man is right. I won't risk it."
We drift. The wind has almost completely died. The sails hang limp, useless.
The lighthouse light blinks in the distance. It seems closer than minutes ago, but it's an illusion. The dark water hides distances.
Sara wakes up, sleepy.
"Have we arrived?"
"No."
"Then why are we stopped?"
"Because the sea doesn't want us to arrive."
She looks at me, confused. Then closes her eyes again.
---
The night drags on. The hours pass slowly, as if time itself were trapped in the middle of the sea.
Ana doesn't sleep. Neither do I.
The boat sways gently. The water glows — small points of light, green and blue, appearing and disappearing at the surface.
"Bioluminescent plankton," Gustavo says, seeing my astonishment. "Tiny creatures. They don't harm."
"They're beautiful."
"They are. The sea is beautiful too. Sometimes."
The lighthouse light is stronger now. Closer.
Remus grumbles:
"The wind is coming back. Let's take advantage."
He raises the sails. The boat begins to move, slowly, toward the light.
The Derylini peninsula is there. Waiting.
The academy. The future.
I look at the horizon. The light blinks. The dark sea surrounds us.
'We're lost*, I think. *But maybe it's the only place we can be.'
The boat moves forward.
The night isn't over yet.