He rubs his temples, frowning. “Just bits and pieces. We were on that moon-blasted island… and we picked up the fish scale. But after that…”
Well, figures.
“You passed out cold,” I reply. But before he can ask a dozen more questions, I turn to Fabien and Zayan. “Captain’s quarters. Now.”
I stride toward the cabin, Zayan and Fabien falling in beside me, their steps as heavy as their silence. The crew watches as we pass, whispering among themselves, no doubt conjuring all kinds of tales about that cursed island. Let them. I’m not spilling the truth out here.
They’ve spent enough years under Fabien Rancour to be hardened, but I’m not about to spook them more than they already spook themselves in the dark. The things the goddess plays at with mortals? Not something to be handed out like bedtime stories. Not to anyone but those who need to know.
Once we reach the captain’s quarters, I shove the door open, and they file in without a word. To my surprise, Vini drags himself in, looking about as steady as a wet sack. Ridley mutters at him to lie down, but he shrugs it off, stumbling to the bed and sitting with his head hanging, thumb pressing at his temple. The poor bastard looks like he’s been trampled by the ship herself.
I feel about the same.
I cross my arms, giving Fabien and Zayan a long, hard look. “So,” I say, voice thick with sarcasm, “did you two also take a stroll through hell, or was that just our special treat?”
Fabien scoffs, but Zayan’s smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Oh, they’ve got stories alright.
“Hell might be an understatement, love,” Zayan replies with a lazy drawl, his smirk widening as he leans against the wall, arms crossed.
“Burning alive would’ve been an improvement,” Fabien mutters. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small cloth bundle and unfurling it to reveal a fish scale, shimmering and sharp-edged. A match for the one tucked in my own pocket. I pull mine out, the two scales glinting in the dim light like twin pieces of the same beast.
“At least we all made it out alive,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.
Vinicola lifts his head, managing a pitiful glare. “Alive is a stretch,” he groans. “And it’d be nice if someone filled me in. Did you manage to drag us back to the skiff, or…?”
I don’t answer right away, swallowing the hard truth. “Not exactly.”
Vini’s brow furrows, somewhere between confusion and disbelief. “Then how in the name of the gods did we get here?”
Gods? I nearly laugh, but the sound dies in my throat. They had everything to do with it—if you count caging us in here as divine work. Maybe the Lady enjoyed watching us claw our way out like rats in a trap.
Zayan stands off to the side, his smirk falling. His eyes catch on the scratches along my arms—marks courtesy of Vinicola’s panicked thrashing. Fabien, slumped in a chair, frowns even deeper than usual, his gaze heavy.
For the first time since we crawled back to safety, I look at the three of them, really look. They’re a mess. Zayan, usually golden and sun-warmed, looks weathered, his skin dry and cracked like old driftwood. Fabien’s olive skin has a burn streak across his face, like he’s been roasted under a sun that never rose. And Vinicola… well, he looks like he’s been chewed up and spit out by the whole damn island.
Funny thing is, in his case, that’s probably true.
It hits me—we’ve all brushed up against something raw, something magical, and it’s left its mark. But there’s no point in dwelling on it. What’s done is done, and I’ve no patience for rehashing old wounds.
Instead, I answer Vini’s question, throwing out a bit of the truth for Ridley’s benefit too. “There was a riddle with the fish scale. Said the longer we held something tied to the moon, the more it’d rot our minds, send us all to madness.” I hold their gazes, one by one. “Vini got his hands on it first—he’d already been losing his head over a pebble from that cursed island. I figured, if he went too far, I’d pry it off him and deal with whatever madness came my way.”
A dry laugh escapes me. “Turns out the damn scale had other plans. It clung to Vinicola like it was his by birthright. Tried pulling it off him, twice—wouldn’t budge.” I look at Vini, who’s pale as a ghost. “So when the madness hit, it hit hard. He couldn’t even stand, slumped over like deadweight, mumbling gods-know-what.”
I pause, letting the silence stretch before I clear my throat. “I dragged you, deadweight and all, back toward the shore, aiming for the skiff.” I shake my head, a bitter grin tugging at my lips. “But when we got there… surprise, surprise—the boat was gone.”
Vinicola’s face drains, his eyes wide. “Gone? So… how did we…?”
“Well,” I mutter, throwing a glance at Fabien and Zayan, “took me longer than I’d care to admit to piece it all together. I reached the shore, pulled out the compass, and checked our heading. We’d come from the southeast, so that’s where I should’ve been. But instead? I was staring straight north. Nothing about it added up.”
I grit my teeth, shaking my head. “So I went at it again, dragging Vini’s dead weight and heading southeast. Couldn’t keep the compass out, not with my hands full. Just kept moving, praying I’d end up where I needed to be. But when I finally got there, that damned skiff was still missing.”
“Alright…” Vini says, eyes narrowed, a furrow creasing his forehead.
“At some point, I just felt plain stupid. Sat myself down, pulled out the compass, and stared at it. Then, right in my hand, the needle started spinning. Slow, but steady. Turned out the whole island was shifting under us. I had to get my bearings, figure out our path, and hunt down that skiff to get us out.”
Zayan lets out a low whistle. “A moving island, huh? That’s a new one.”
Fabien grunts, rubbing his temple. “Solis had a fake sun. Didn’t track time like the real one, but burned all the same. The longer we stayed, the more we lost our sense of time and our memories. Had to remember where the sun was when we arrived, then head the opposite way.”
