The throbbing in my bones became too painful to ignore. It was also what convinced me I wasn’t dead. Yet.
I opened my eyes, immediately regretting the decision. Sunlight cut into me like a razor. I closed them again.
“She’s awake!” That was Sarina’s voice.
I tried to move and couldn’t. I tried to move just my fingers, and managed a twitch.
Gritty granules slid beneath them. Sand.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I lifted my eyelids again, wincing against the light. As my eyesight adjusted, whited-out shapes began to coalesce into plants I recognized. Palm trees.
I was laying under the shade of a palm tree, encircled by sand.
Sarina and Corra sat beside me, setting down branches they’d been snapping into kindling.
Sitting up proved to be impossible.
“Take it slow,” Corra said, holding my shoulder as she supported me.
It hurt so much I whimpered.
“Careful! She’s injured.” Sarina scolded Corra. Corra’s hold loosened.
I wasn’t sure if I was more damaged or injured.
Minutes writhed by before I was able to move my limbs.
It took six more pathetic attempts before I was able to sit up.
They helped me lean back against the trunk of the palm. I panted from the effort of that simple action.
I managed to get my arm propped up underneath me only to nearly collapse as soon as I put weight onto it.
I did a visual check of myself. As sore as everything was, I wasn’t missing any important bits. The wound on the back of my hand was deep and jagged, scabs forming at the edges.
The miasma here was bright turquoise. It was semi-transparent as always, but one solid color all the way to the horizon. It was an even lighter shade of blue than the unending sky above it. The opalescence prism of hues that usually shifted on its surface were gone. And there weren’t any shadows moving through it. The sand wasn’t smoking near it, either.
I couldn’t stop staring at it. It was stunning.
“Beautiful, huh?” Corra asked.
“Yeah,” my voice was a smoky rasp, as if I was terminally ill. Maybe I was, after using the Sun glyph. I coughed, trying to clear the coarseness.
There weren’t any Starshells underneath the foam of the tideline. However, there were odd pale shells in a gamut of different sizes and conformations.
The Shadowtide floated on the sparkling shoreline, the broken prow adhered to the front with thick rope. All three sails were shredded like confetti. The main deck’s railing was inshambles, and several massive cracks were visible even from this distance. The gangplank sloped down to accommodate for the lower than usual shore.
“It’s not miasma,” Sarina said. “We think it’s water.”
“It’s the once-sea,” Corra said. “An ocean.”
“That’s speculation,” Sarina countered.
“What happened?” I croaked out.
“Well, after you killed the Kraken and we finished off the Sanguir, Brialla lost her mind,” Sarina started.
“‘How did she do that?’” Corra imitated Brialla’s lower timber. “‘And who the hell are you?’”
