“Originally he’s from Kyrsal,”Ryc adds.
The capital city of Aeros…
He’s one of Darin’s people then.
“As it stands, approaching Illa Ysari is considered an act of aggression against the High Council.”Ryc’s hand tightens around mine.“Were we to bring any kind of sworn fleet, it would be an act of war.”
“So you paid to have us smuggled to the island?”
At this, Ryc laughs. His amusement carries through the golden rope, burying itself in my chest.
“Yes,”he replies, flashing me a grin.
The next set of stairs is taller than the last and following in Ryc’s wake, I ascend. Slipping my hand from his in favor of the railing, the wind grows as I crest the last step. My eyes water, but even through the cutting wind and snow, the scene before me holds me wide-eyed.
Unlike the calm over Ollora, these waters are a powerful tempest.
Swirling snow falls upon darkened, dancing waves, swallowed the moment they meet. The grayed sky, the hazy visibility, the lack of real color… it all reminds me of the veil.
Approaching the ice-coated rail at the end of the deck, I take hold, steadying myself as I continue to stare.
At the same time, I’m reminded of the hells.
There’s nothing.
Nothing visible ahead.
It’s barren and treacherous and filled with more shadow than light. How many lives are at risk here today, I wonder. Perhaps Connak’s price wasn’t enough after all.
In the distance, the storm appears to worsen. The snow becoming a stark, white wall.
No… not snow.
Fog.
And we’re aimed right for it.
?????????????
The entire world changed the moment the ship pierced the white wall. The wind and snow fell away, seemingly absorbed by the fog. The ship stopped rocking and the howling in my ears stopped, having crossed into calmer waters and creeping silence.
None of Connak’s crew dared speak.
Their whistles, their shouts, their laughs, their casting… it all ceased—the wild beauty of the realm becoming more haunting in nature. And whether it was out of fear or reverence, I couldn’t tell. But I followed their lead and remained quiet—despite the rolling nausea raging on in my stomach.
As if I didn’t have enough reason to never sail again, I’ve discovered demons aren’t immune to seasickness. We’d been out on the open water for no more than thirty minutes before the unease set in. Driven by sheer stubbornness, I remained upon the deck.
A mistake.
Now sitting with my back against the railing, I rest my head upon my crossed arms, braced by pitched knees and simplybreathe. Hood and cowl down, I take long, deep breaths, fighting against the strong urge to vomit.
Why was I never warned about this untilafterit claimed me?
It doesn’t help my skin buzzes.
Like the last few seconds before a lightning strike. A feverish pitch with no release. This fog isn’t natural. It’s old magic. Aether.
And gods I’ve never felt somuchof it.
