Sickness churned in his stomach, but he nodded.
It was time to face his ghosts.
Augustus must have stood outside this cabin door a thousand times. A thousand times he’d knocked. A thousand times she’d answered.
The silence now was heavier than the door itself, sinking into his skin like cold water.
He released a long-held breath and took the handle. Inside, he was immediately assaulted by his mother. The brine of the sea mingled with her exotic perfumes.
Her ghost strode across the room with a young boy clinging to her leg. She chuckled and gripped him under the armpits, hauling him up to sit on her hip.“You’re no better than a starfish, you know that?”
Cassia’s cabin wasn’t unlike Mettius’s with its blend of rugged practicality and opulence. A mahogany desk dominated the room, its surface scattered with her belongings: navigational charts, maps, and a battered logbook that still lay open, filled with her meticulous entries.
Behind the desk was a high-backed chair upholstered in deep black leather, where Cassia’s ghost twirled a blade, her black eyes ablaze.“Sit.” Followed by the usual addition,“Will you ever not be the bane of my existence?”
Augustus ignored the twinge in his chest and looked to the right, where a detailed, hand-drawn map of the known seas marked her past routes.
“And here is the cave system,”her ghost said to the child on her hip,“where I saved your father from a pool of flesh-eating eels. Never trust your father when he claims a place is safe to swim unless you can see well through to the bottom. He never learns from that particular mistake.”
Augustus drifted to Cassia’s bedchamber doorway. A sturdy wardrobe stood against the far wall, its doors slightly ajar to reveal a collection of rich fabrics. The silks, velvets, and brocades were almost entirely black, each embroidered with intricate silver thread.
Her king-sized bed was adorned with cushions and a thick, embroidered quilt. Her ghost sat atop the weathered chest at the foot of the bed, tears streaming, chest heaving on sob after sob. She didn’t notice him in her doorway as she held her slightly rounded stomach, blood darkening her pants and dripping down the wood.
Augustus perused the shelves lining the walls where Cassia kept a collection of rare books, navigational instruments, and curiosities from distant lands—a petrified balkie’s claw, an intricately carved onyx statue, and bottles of rare, potent spirits.
Every element in his mother’s cabin spoke of a life lived on the edge, her fierce independence and commanding authority, and a taste for the finer things.
And all of it, every last detail, was a stab to the heart. It was no better than a mausoleum.
Lili was right—a change had to be made. He couldn’t captain this ship, but he couldn’t sell her either. TheEntiabelonged at the head of the Triarius Fleet. She belonged with his father.
If Augustus sent the request now, he could have Taran Phya working on the build for a new ship. A new sea-worthy home for the start of his and Selene’s life. Mettius could oversee the details on Augustus’s behalf, and the entire ship could be complete when they arrived in Warian Bay.
Augustus started for the desk, imagining what he might request in the missive. The ship would need a name and figurehead, something Cassia would find fleet-worthy.
His gaze fell on one of the paintings in the room, and he had his answer.
The Goddess of Battle wielded a mighty thunderbolt spear. Her long hair flowed like liquid mercury, and her eyes were like storms. She worearmor made from a lightweight obsidian material adorned with symbols of war etched from starlight. She was fierce and wise, a master strategist, and known for her ability to turn the tide of battle.
Just like Cassia.
“Komera,” he said, and the rightness settled into his chest.
With newfound purpose, Augustus sat behind the desk, pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began to write.
Selene threw the doors open wide, letting sunlight and possibility spill out. “As requested…the library.”
Warmth filled her chest as she inhaled the scent of ancient parchment. The sight before her was unlike any other in the palace, with levels upon levels of books and scrolls, the room crowned by a magnificent dome. Golden light streamed in through windows, bathing the room in warmth. Dust motes danced in the light like tiny little sprites.
The library was an amalgamation of marble, wood, and vibrant fabrics. Reading nooks with ornate furniture covered in rich velvet. Intricate mosaics and tapestries adorned the walls with integral moments in Perean history.
The four Rangers entered like an unchecked storm, their boots drumming across the marble, their crackling energy clashing with the quiet softness inside the grand rotunda.
They stopped to stare up at the towering white marble body of Isella, the Goddess of Wisdom. A flowing peplos draped her figure in delicate folds to sandaled feet, and she cupped a curious owl in her hands.
Blaze swiveled toward Selene, brows raised. “The maps?”
She pointed toward a wooden stand that held a globe of the known world. The shelves beside it held dozens of rolled parchments with more detailed maps.
