Taron’s lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “I’ve never been there myself, but I’ve heard stories. Sailors say it’s the last place before the world ends. There’s no grand palace or legendary tower. It’s just … people. A place where ships come and go, where no one stays long enough to leave a mark.”
“What kind of people?”
“Merchants, sailors, drifters. People who don’t ask questions. It’s the kind of town where you can be anyone or no one, and no one cares. Everyone’s too busy moving on to their next destination.”
He speaks of it like it’s a dream. This quiet, almost transient place where you can disappear into the crowd, where the world doesn’t weigh so heavily on your shoulders, and you can exist in your own skin.
“It sounds…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Free.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Taron’s smile fades as fleetingly as it forms. “Free.”
The word hangs between us, and I wonder if he realizes the weight it bears. He doesn’t know that I’ve seen inside his head – fleeting glimpses of his past, of him wandering the streets, alone and lost and hungry. He doesn’t know that I saw Madame Vera take him in, the terrible things she made him do – things that scarred him. Was that what he meant that night at the tavern when he said he wanted to be free?
My heart aches to know more, but I don’t ask. I can’t. Not when the peace between us is so delicate. Instead, I watch the sea, letting the gentle sound of the waves soothe the storm in my chest.
“Brim sounds nice,” I say.
“I think you’d like it there.”
“I think I’d like it there, too.”
I close my eyes, letting the morning light warm my face. Then I hear noises. The stir of other competitors emerging from their cabins. In no time, the calmness of the morning is quickly disrupted by the low murmur of voices as teams gather about, stretching stiff limbs and glancing around with tired eyes. The first thing I notice is their uniforms.
I nudge Taron with my elbow. “Looks like we’re not the only ones in green.”
He scans the crowd. “Two colours. Red and green. We’ve been split into bigger teams.”
I count six teams dressed in green and another six in red.
Towards the front of the ship, Cyrus leans casually against the railing while Gideon is crouched low in front of him, polishing his boots. Both clad in green. As though Cyrus can feel me watching him, his dark eyes flick to me, and he nods.
I look away. I can’t give him the satisfaction of taking in the way his uniform clings to his broad shoulders, how his light-blond hair, woven into a plait, catches the light like threads spun from sunlight.
“Great,” Taron mutters, tensing beside me.
But it’s not just Cyrus he’s sneering at.
Kara and Savannah, also looking proud in green, are floating between the teams, their beaming smiles not quite reaching their eyes as they fawn over people’s hair and make-up and dole out good-luck wishes.
Then there’s Gunther and Gigi. The twins stand huddled together. Gunther has his arms crossed, surveying the competitors with sharp green eyes to match his uniform, while his sibling bounces on the balls of their feet, brimming with energy even this early in the morning.
I haven’t interacted with them much since the banquet, but I’m glad they’re on the green team. There’s something about their connection, the way they communicate so silently and unpredictably, that makes me wonder whether they’d be the ones to watch.
I pick out the rest of the green team gathered on thedeck. There’s Mei, the girl with green-streaked hair. She stands off to the side, hands perched on her hips, though her attention flicks towards Taron more than once.
Beside her towers Rhius, the other Emo. His expression is unreadable beneath the shadow of his brow, but I wonder if he sees it, too – the murky plumes of collective fear and uncertainty, woven with threads of envy and arrogance, hovering above the boat like a stormy cloud. Probably not. From my experience, most Emos choose to ignore negative energies, focusing instead on the stronger, brighter, more sought-after positive energies.
Can he see any in the air right now, permeating from the competitors? Excitement, perhaps? Anticipation? I wonder what it looks like. Whether it’s gold and radiant like sunshine, curling through the air like steam off a hot cup of tea.
I locate the final members of our green team. It’s the nervous brunette I glimpsed at the banquet, and her tall greasy-haired teammate. Cleo and Xander.
She’s fidgeting again now, and he’s rambling once more. I recognize the dynamic – one voice overshadowing another, taking up all the space without realizing it. They won’t last long in this game.
“Look, there it is!” says Troy, wearing a red uniform, as he storms to the front of the ship and leans forward across the bow.
“Aurora Isle,” breathes his teammate, Selene.
The deck grows quieter as all eyes turn to the horizon.A small beach stretches wide under the sun, a sweep of soft, powdery sand that seems almost too white to be real.
