Kamira sighed sleepily and closed her eyes. She could feel the water's movements in her core. It sang to her, making her feel more alive than she had in years. It caressed her bones, lulling her to sleep like a mother would her child. It felt like home.
It had been almost a year since she last used her power, and she suddenly let out a loud barking laugh, only now realizing that she could have saved her arms the trouble if she had only thought to use sorcery to move the boat through the waves. Not that sorcery didn’t have its own draining effects on a person, but she would have been much less exhausted right now.
She had never used enough power to even make her muscles ache, much less to get close to a drained state. Adonis explained to her that using too much power in too short a time was dangerous—something that would both physically and mentally drain a Sorcerer, with extreme cases ending in a comatose state or worse, death.
Kamira’s teeth clicked together as she hugged her arms tighter around herself, shivering helplessly. Her veins held a power in them that not many left in the realm had, and yet she could not keep herself from freezing to death.
She looked back toward the shore, now so far away that she could only see the small twinkles of lights like fireflies along the shoreline, and wondered when they would come looking for her. But then a far more devastating thought came to mind. What would happen to her parents? Would they face the consequences of her rash actions?
“Blazing stars,” she breathed. “What have I done?”
Kamira brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as she turned to lay on her side across the bench, the full weight of the evening crashing into her like a massive wave, suffocating her.
A tear slid down her cheek, dripping into the puddle of seawater at the bottom of the craft, rippling outward in a ring of sorrow. Her family would be fine, she reassured herself. They knew how to take care of themselves. They would be fine.
She let out a shaky breath, trying to ease the stress of the night, but it did nothing to relax her body. Her shoulders rose with tension, her feet flexing as she continued to hug herself tighter, cutting off her own air supply.
Suddenly, she noticed that the night around her had grown darker, as if a cloud traveled through the sky and positioned itself just over top of her, blocking out the bright glow of the stars and moon.
She looked up only to find that, instead of a cloud, a ship was blocking her view of the sky above. Kamira quickly pushed herself back up to a sitting position, peering up at the looming mass of wood before her.
The ship’s figurehead was a ghostly form, hooded and mysterious, with skeletal hands reaching out as if attempting to draw lost souls aboard. Her entire body shook involuntarily at the eerie sight. Normally, she would have taken that as a sign to flee as fast as she could in the opposite direction, but desperation drew her forward.
This might be the only chance she had. She could stow away on this ship and sail far away from Asharr Manor, disembark at a distant port, and make a new life for herself.
Decision made, Kamira spotted the anchor rode and didn’t even bother picking up the paddles for such a small distance. Instead, she let her power roam free, pulling against the water’s flow and using it to push the boat until it floated just next to the large rope tethering the strange black ship to the ocean’s floor.
Luckily, the rode was at the perfect angle for her to wrap her arms and legs around, hanging like a sloth with her back to the sea, as she climbed her way up to the top, making sure to take slow and precise movements. The last thing she needed was to freefall into the dark waves.
Climbing this rope was nothing compared to scaling the stone walls of her childhood home—Adonis would make her plan escape routes during their nightly sorcery lessons for no reason other than “just in case.” The twisted threads of the rope created grooves large enough to act as footholds, and she was able to hook her heels onto them the entire way up, relieving much of the stress from her already tired arms.
Once at the top, Kamira perched herself in the hawsepipe where the anchor would be pulled through and let out a deep sigh of relief. This had to work. She had no other ideas.
She looked back down at the small craft that had brought her all this way and moved the water around it, pushing it back toward the shore. She had left her soaked slippers behind, hoping that they would find the craft and assume she had drowned at sea.
Kamira poked her head through the hawsehole inside the ship, peering through the darkness. It was quiet, and that same shiver from before threatened to travel down her spine, but she shook it off, not allowing her fear to creep in. To her relieved surprise, the deck was completely empty.
She climbed aboard, staying hidden in the shadows to observe her surroundings. It wasn’t a particularly large ship, but big enough to assume a full crew would be aboard. It definitely wasn’t abandoned. Several lanterns swayed in the light breeze, casting long shadows across the wooden floors of the deck. She raised a brow at the unfamiliar fading emblem of a horned human skull encased with strange marks painted in the center of the wood. Unease resurfaced, and she shivered involuntarily.
The wood and sails of the vessel were so dark, they blended into the night. The entire ship looked to be in immaculate shape. Nothing aged with wear or rotting with disuse. There were no signs of mold or fungus growing through the cracks of the floorboards—everything was well organized and cared for as if a worthy crew worked aboard it.So where were they?
Jaw clenched and heart pounding, Kamira lifted the long fabric of her dress and edged her way closer to the steps that led into the belly of the ship. She had almost reached them when a loud thump had her stopping short and diving behind a large barrel to her left. The sound of footfalls echoed, growing louder with each frantic beat of her heart. Cautiously peeking around the wooden barrel, Kamira watched as a rather stocky man with hair as red as a cooked lobster, and a thin set of pink lips set in a frown stepped onto the main deck. She didn’t miss the set of pistols strapped to either side of his hips or the hilt of a dagger poking out of his boot.
Kamira held her breath as the heavy-set man ascended the flight of stairs leading up to the helm. Fearing he would turn and spot her instantly, she crouched lower behind her hiding place, but instead, he disappeared into the shadows.
“Blazing biscuits!” she cursed. Without clear sight of the man, she couldn’t risk sprinting to the steps that lead into the ship’s hull.
Her heart hammered in her chest like the beat of a drum as she kept an eye locked on the dark spot where the man had disappeared. She remained hidden and waited, gritting her teeth when her legs cramped from the awkward position, but she didn’t dare move. Finally, he came back into view and she waited with bated breath until his back was finally turned toward her.
Kamira darted to the steps on light, almost silent feet, a gift granted by her petite frame and a childhood of sneaking through an old creaking house. At the bottom of the shallow oaken steps, Kamira found herself in a hallway lined with two doors on either side and another set of steps leading down even further at the far end.
Muffled foot falls sounded above, letting her know she didn’t have time to figure out if any of the rooms were unoccupied, so she took a chance and entered the door furthest to her right. She gently closed the thick wooden door behind her and placed an ear against it, listening for footsteps nearing.
When no sound of movement was heard, she let out the breath she had been holding and spun to examine the chamber she had entered. It was pitch dark, almost impossible to see anything but the window on the wall opposite her. The moon offered barely enough light to see with as it glowed through the small, circular pane of glass. Squinting her eyes, she walked toward the window, spotting a desk scattered with papers, the ink smeared across them in a tightly looped script. An oil lamp sat just next to them.
“Thank the sea,” she whispered, fumbling blindly in the dark until her fingers finally wrapped around a small box of matches. She grabbed it, shaking it lightly for the telltale sound of the firesticks jumbling up and down inside. “Yes!” she exclaimed, pulling one out and quickly striking it against the side of the box. When it flared to life, she lit the lamp in one swift motion. Light spread through the room, illuminating every crevice and dark corner of the cramped space. She could now clearly see that this was someone’s quarters. A pallet lay just to the right of the desk, feathers poking through the seams of the linen bedding. On the other side of the desk, pushed up against the left wall, was a trunk. Kamira opened it to inspect the contents and found a few books, a worn brown cloak, a sword, and a handful of small daggers. Sensing a dagger could prove useful, she grabbed one for herself before closing the lid.
Turning back toward the door, she noticed a tall dresser with five drawers beside it. Just as she took a step in its direction, voices sounded overhead. There were maybe two, no three, probably more.
