The question spirals through my mind without an answer. The coastal villages. The trading ports. The fishing communities that depend on these waters for survival. All of them at risk because we couldn’t find another way. Because we chose to solve our problem by creating a bigger one.
Footsteps behind me. Heavy, measured, the particular rhythm I’ve learned to recognize even in sleep.
Zoric doesn’t speak. He crosses the remaining distance between us, wraps his arms around me from behind, pulls me back against his chest. His chin rests on the top of my head. His warmth surrounds me, solid and real, a counterpoint to the cold fear that’s been building since Thalira started talking.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I needed air.”
“You needed to think.” His arms tighten fractionally. “I know the difference.”
Below us, another ship lists. Its lanterns go out as the deck tilts, one by one, until only darkness remains. How many people were aboard? How many more deaths are we responsible for?
“The villages.” My voice sounds strange to my own ears. Distant. “The fishing boats. They’re all going to die because of what we did.”
“They’re going to die if we don’t fix it.” Zoric’s tone carries the hard pragmatism that’s kept him alive through decades of violence. “Standing here cataloging guilt won’t change anything. Finding a solution might.”
“Thalira said?—”
“I know what Thalira said.” He turns me in his arms, tips my chin up until our eyes meet. In the phosphorescent glow from the water below. But I know better now. I know what lies beneath the armor.
“She said someone has to become the new guardian.” My voice catches on the words. “Someone attuned to the hunger. Someone who’s carried its gold. We escaped Oreth, but maybe not this.”
“I won’t let you do it.” The words emerge rough, ragged, torn from somewhere deep in his chest. “I didn’t find you just to lose you. I didn’t let myself want this—want you—just to have it taken away.”
“Zoric—”
“No.” His hand closes under my jaw, firm but not painful. “We fix what we broke. That’s what we do. That’s what we’ve been doing since you washed up on my shore. We’ll find another way.”
“And if there isn’t one?”
“Then we make one.”
THIRTY-ONE
AVIORA
His certainty would be comforting if it weren’t so clearly desperate. He’s a man who’s spent his life solving problems through force of will—through violence, through determination, through the stubborn refusal to accept defeat. But this enemy can’t be fought with boarding axes or tactical brilliance. This enemy eats wanting, and right now, the thing he wants most in the world is me.
I rise on my toes. Press my lips to his—soft at first, then harder when he responds. His arms crush me against him, his mouth opening, and for a moment, the hunger below and the horror around us fade into nothing.
This. This is worth fighting for. This is worth saving, if saving is possible.
When we break apart, we’re breathing hard. Our breath mingles in the cold air.
“We fix what we broke.” I echo his words back to him, making them a promise instead of a plea. “But if we can’t—if I’m the only way?—”
“Don’t.” His voice cracks on the word.
“If I’m the only way,” I continue, “you have to let me go. You have to let me choose this. The same way I chose to stop running. The same way I chose you.”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t agree. Just holds me tighter, as if he can anchor me to this moment through sheer force of will.
Below us, the Wrecktide churns with hungry light.
And somewhere in the deep, something ancient stirs.
We returnto the Great Hall to find Thalira waiting.
