“It’s luck. Or divine intervention,” Gin says. “Maybe the gods are looking out for us.”
“Did Tadhana do this?” I ask with a smile.
“I don’t know,” Gin says. “She’s sleeping. She does that a lot.”
“I notice you didn’t tell Darius you have a relic.”
“Or that you do, too,” she says.
“You trust him, though.”
“I do,” she sighs. “Maybe I shouldn’t. But he’s kept the Lashing together. That counts for something, doesn’t it? And he’s Ophir, not Lacon.”
I grunt. I don’t really want to talk about Darius right now. What kind of business did he have to address? He seems to disappear a lot, but what do I know? I’m just a common thief. I push the boat from the river’s edge halfway into the water. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Gin says, helping me shove the boat into the water the rest of the way, and we both hop in. We hug the shoreline until we reach the rocky precipice.
Dark gray clouds roll in overhead, and the water is instantly ominous, murky and choppier. The boat sways around. “It’ll be all right, we just need to round the bend around Lacon City and then we’ll make it to shore.”
I tell Gin I can take over the oars, she doesn’t have to row. I steer the boat, but it’s foggy and hard to see. There’s nothing but gray haze in front of us. But there’s no going back, either, and so I row harder, faster. I’ve got to get us to shore before the storm rolls in.
“Almost there!” I tell Gin, even if I’m starting to lose steam and have to pause with every turn of the paddle.
“Wait! Stop rowing,” Gin says, grabbing the sides of the boat.
“What is it?”
“I think we’re going backward.”
I stop rowing and look around. There’s nothing to see, though. Just dense, gray fog, and worse, a smattering of rain.
“Can you feel it?” Gin asks.
I hope I’m imagining it; an illusion caused by the fog, perhaps. But I know what she means. “Yes.” My heart sinks. We’re being pulled farther out to sea. There’s no telling how far from shore we are.
Without another word, we each pick up an oar and paddle frantically, willing away the weakness in our arms, desperate to escape the force dragging us away.
Out of nowhere I hear a strange braying sound coming from within the mist. We work as hard as physically possible, pushing our bodies to the limit, but the braying gets louder and louder until finally it’s directly upon us.
“What is that?” I yell.
A wave rises from the sea and the boat overturns. Gin screams. There’s an abrupt jolt when we hit the water, followed by the shock of cold. I hold my breath as we sink, and swim frantically to her side. But we keep falling, and even as I try to kick my way up, a force keeps pulling us downward. Darkness envelops us. We continue to sink, only more slowly, as we descend deeper and deeper into the dark sea. We’re lost. This is the end. I close my eyes and surrender to the void, waiting for the brutal end to come.
Except it doesn’t. I open my eyes. I should be dead. Except I’m not. I’m awake and I can breathe. I take another deep breath—it’s the same. Air. I must be delusional. Am I dying? Or already dead?
I attempt to speak. “Gin?” It works. “Gin!” I repeat, more frantically.
“Eban? What’s happening? Where are we?”
“I have no idea.”
“Look!” she cries.
I stretch to see where she’s pointing. I can just barely make out what appears to be ruins of towers in the shadowy distance. I take Gin’s hand and we stand up together. We’re on a sandy beach.
“What is this?” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t understand. Are we dead?”
“Somehow, we’re very much alive,” I assure her. As our eyes adjust to the dim light, I notice there are ruins all around us, and a crumbling stone walkway nearby that stretches toward a strange abandoned city. There’s no other option but to go that way.
