Somehow, deep down, I know what they are.
“It’s a map,” I murmur, feeling the words slip out before I’ve even processed them.
It’s only when I blink a couple more times that my eyes seem to catch up with the feeling. I spot a small, distinct X mark near the edge of the floating-like moonlight.
I’m not the only one who notices something in it. Vinicola jumps to his feet beside me, his eyes wide, hands tangled in his hair
“There’s…there’s a poem here, too,” he says, nearly breathless, stepping up next to me. “Right here.”
I squint, following his outstretched hand, but I don’t see a damn thing. Just that empty patch of nothing he’s pointing at. Then he starts to recite something out loud:
“The sun and moon are lovers true, Both run from me, yet both pursue. One warms my soul, ignites my veins, The other breathes life, through night it reigns.
The first Trial calls, my champions four, Seek out the entrance, find the door. You have two days, and on the third, Be there when my first breath is heard.
On that breath, the door will yield, But fail in time, your fate is sealed. If you’re not there when moment’s due, Death’s cruel hand will come for you.”
Fabien and Zayan stand up, and I just… stare, speechless.
Damn it, I’ll never get used to this damned nonsense.
“Four champions, huh?” Zayan mutters, finally breaking the silence. His gaze flicks over each of us. “At least she didn’t say ‘littlechampions’ this time.”
Fabien grunts, his hand drifting near his blade. That’s instinct talking, and if I had to guess, he’s fully sober by now. Hell, judging by my own nerves, so am I.
Vinicola lets out a low whistle, rocking back on his heels. “Normally, I’d call this one hell of a beautiful poem,” he mutters, scratching his head. “But I’m not a fan of ‘death’ and ‘cruel’ cozying up like that. Maybe ‘metaphorical death’ would sound better?” He looks around, as if the damn goddess herself might chime in.
If she did, I’d gladly empty a round in her face and send her straight back to whatever depths she crawled out of.
“Two days...” Zayan says. “Not much time.”
Two days. Just two days to find the entrance and be there the moment she draws her first breath, whatever that means. Failure means death.
“It is not,” I say, keeping my voice calm, even though my heart’s racing. “We need to figure out where this place is and get there as fast as we can.”
Fabien nods. “I don’t see no goddamn map, but if you do, we need to find a way to show the map to Ridley. Chances are he’ll know the terrain.”
Solid idea—if only Ridley wasn’t too drunk to tell a mast from a mermaid.
“Damn it,” I curse. “Vini, find some parchment and a piece of coal. We need to write this down while there’s still moonlight.”
The bard breaks into a run without so much as a second thought.
I stay where I am, locking every line and fold of that cursed map into my mind. Lady’s riddles and cryptic nonsense—if anyone had told me a month ago that I’d be relying on pieces ofglass and hunting down invisible maps, I’d… fuck, I don’t know what I’d do.
At this rate, I think I’d just shoot a bullet through my own brain.
Deem myself a lost cause.
But as it is? I have a crew to captain. And, most importantly, a goddess to destroy.
Ain’t no one dying on my watch—be it me or anyone else. I’ll take us to this place even if my life depends on it.
39
Zayan
Leaving the gateway doesn’t change a thing. The compass still doesn’t work.
