“Yup, just like that,” she says, voice flat, though I can hear the irritation beneath. She might as well be admitting a defeat.
What she doesn’t know is that there’s nothing else they could have done. Not after the compass was activated.
The compass doesn’t just want the key; itcravesit, like iron drawn to the heart of a storm. And the sea—every rise and pull of the tide, every swell of wind—seems to push for them twointo merging. An unaware human like Gypsy could have done nothing to prevent it.
She had to follow.
Just like she has to follow now. At least, until the Trials are complete.
28
Vinicola
After a few days at sea, we finally reach a small merchant island, and I can barely hold back a leap of joy. I step off the ship with arms spread wide, breathing in the crisp, mist-laden air. The sky is cloaked in a moody gray that begs for candlelight, the kind that would cast warm, orange halos around us and make the whole scene glow.
Oh, I can feel the inspiration brewing already.
I inhale deeply, grinning as the chill sinks into my skin. This life was meant for me, wasn’t it?The Hereticais a beauty, and Gypsy, our lovely heretic-in-chief, named her perfectly. Far grander than that rickety schooner I’d been trapped on before. I love every inch of her.
“I think I was meant for this pirate life all along and just didn’t know it,” I declare as everyone joins me on the dock. The water’s a dreary gray today, and the wind has a biting edge, but that only adds to the romance of it all.
“Wouldn’t call you a pirate just yet, Vini,” Gypsy replies, her lips pressed together as she scans the dock. “For now, you’re just sailing with some.”
“Two, to be precise,” Fabien interjects with a raised brow. “Ridley and I aren’t pirates.”
“But you both fight like ones,” Zayan mutters, his eyes darting around.
I can’t help but grin as I look at the scene. We’re sticking out like a sore thumb on this dock—Fabien, towering over everyone with half an armory strapped to him, looks like he could take down an entire ship with just a glare; Gypsy and Zayan look like they’re two seconds away from robbing everyone in sight, and then there’s me… spotless as a daisy. Too clean for this place, by far. We’re practically a walking red flag.
“We fight to survive,” Fabien declares like it’s obvious. “Pirates fight dirty. Add a bit of real training, and you’ve got the edge.”
Zayan half-scoffs, half-smirks, but I can tell he agrees, even if he’d rather not admit it. The four of them have been training fiercely in every spare moment, between sailing and sleeping. And I’ll give credit where it’s due—they’re brilliant fighters. But to Fabien, fighting humans is one thing; fighting monsters? A different beast entirely. He’s taken it upon himself to turn us all into warriors prepared for anything.
I even caught him eyeing me once, trying to decide if I could be trained into something dangerous. Imagine that! Me! With a sword in my hand? I’m more likely to trip over my own feet or accidentally cut my own ear off than land a hit on someone else. But Fabien is relentless; he’s convinced that even I should be prepared, in case, you know, a monster suddenly takes offense to me.
So I’ve been, let’s say… creatively avoiding him since he mentioned it. I found myself a little sanctuary tucked away in the garden. Right beneath an orange tree, there’s a perfect nook surrounded by pots, flowers, and enough leaves to keep me hidden from view. It’s my peaceful escape, and so far, Fabien hasn’t caught on.
But today? There’s no escaping. The moment we step off the dock, Fabien’s gaze locks onto me like he’s decided that my days of hiding are over. His eyes could probably cut steel if he wanted.
“If you get lost, that’s your problem,” he growls, his voice like a rumble from some shadowy tavern choir. I can almost picture him there, singing bass with a bunch of gruff sailors. I told him as much last night, after deciding it was safe enough to return to the group. He only snarled in response, but honestly, the man’s vocal depth is like a well-tuned cello.
“Whatever happened to ‘all for one, one for all’?” I ask, flashing him my most charming smile. “Weren’t we supposed to be a collective now?”
Fabien’s eyes narrow, unimpressed. “We are a collective,” he mutters, arms crossing over his barrel of a chest, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll babysit you if you wander off. If you can’t keep up, maybe the three of us will just complete the Trials without you.”
I press a hand to my heart in mock dismay. “Your words, my friend, are like thorns,” I sigh. “Surely there’s a soft spot under that prickly exterior?” I attempt my most wounded look, though I know Fabien’s heart is made of the same stuff as ship timber: tough, and probably a little splintered.
“Stay close,” he orders, ignoring my theatrics. “I’ll only say it once. Got it?”
I give an exaggerated nod, though I can’t resist rolling my eyes a little. “Loud and clear, Mister Rancour,” I say with mock solemnity, catching a smirk from Zayan and a raised eyebrow from Gypsy.
Fabien just shakes his head, his expression sharpening as he scans the crowded dock and bustling marketplace.
Ridley, who’s been quiet up until now, pipes up. “We’re here for supplies, no distractions. We get what we need, and we leave. The Trials are closer than we think, and we don’t wantthe goddess following through on that warning she gave our captain.”
Gypsy gives a sharp nod. “Zayan and I need new weapons. We’ll go together.”
“Ridley can handle the carpenter on his own,” Fabien says, as if that settles it. “The bard will go with me.”
