Sev stared through the breathsteel window at the blood moon. The argent throne formally condemned him on his homecoming.

    He didn’t shed a tear or whisper a prayer. His soul dried up on the voyage home. Though he could still see the colored lights shining through the windows, his mood dulled their brilliance and robbed them of their luster.

    "We never should have gone," he said under his breath. 

    Lacking the energy to even regret, his words were as devoid of presence as his voice.

    As they pulled into the harbor, Sev overheard the others discussing how they were going to deliver the ark tonight to rid themselves of it and get the rest of the money Garland owed them.

    Sev forced himself out of his bed, donned his frock coat, and made his way above deck.

    They lowered the gangway to the deck, and Crane ran ahead to buy a cart.

    “I am going with you,” Sev said.

    Maeve didn’t argue with him, but he saw the argument play out in her eyes.

    “Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t do anything stupid. I just want to be there in case you need me.”

    Jade loaded the arc onto a cart.

    “It’s been a while since you have been a part of the world,” Harley said. “Are you sure you don’t want to give yourself some time to get used to the waters again?”

    “I will be fine,” Sev said. “It’s not like I’ve forgotten the rules of civilized society.” He sneered when he said the words. “I would worry more about them than about me.”

    “Do you think Garland plans to double-cross us?” Jade asked.

    “I don’t know what part he had to play in all of this, but he is a stranger with a lot of money. That means he has blood on his hands,” Sev said.

    “There is no great fortune without a great crime.” Harley smirked. “I can’t argue with that.”

    “Our blood won’t be a part of it without a good fight,” Jade said.

    “Everyone on the cart,” Maeve said. “We have a delivery to make.”

    “And if they are not awake when we get there?” Crane asked.

    “We knock louder,” Maeve said.

    Sev recognized the worry in Maeve's eyes and wanted to assure her he was all right, but the words would not come. How could he reassure her when he couldn’t reassure himself?

    As the cart rolled through the streets of this city he knew so well, everything appeared just a little different, like seeing it through a smokey mirror.

    The dark sky lost its velvety darkness, and the stars didn’t twinkle.

    Maybe a storm flushed the city with some covering that muted not only the colors, but the reflectivity of the wind vanes and the crystals embedded into the aether vanes that monitored the flow of magic over the island.

     Small, shadowy creatures skittered about that he had never seen before. At first, he thought they were rats, but many, if not most, of them walked on two legs.

    None of these little creatures acted maliciously. They furtively avoided the light of the gas lamps and the crimson glow of the moon. Whatever they were, they didn’t want to be seen or even noticed.

    Before he said anything to his companions, he scanned through the group to find signs that they saw them too. None of them reacted to any of them, even when a small group of them scurried across the road in front of them.

    The bay cathar that pulled the cart continued her knuckle walk through with no sign she noticed them at all.

    Maeve gripped his hand and squeezed it.

    “I’m all right,” Sev said. “It was unfair to cut you out of my life like that.”

    “Yes, it was,” Maeve said with a churlish grin. “We have supported each other through so many things. Why would you think this would be any different?”

    Sev shrugged. “I didn’t have words. If I didn’t understand, it would have been unfair to expect you to.”

    “So, no more secrets?” she asked.

    Sev watched the strange shadows creeping through the city streets. “I can’t promise you that, at least until I understand what is going on myself.”

    “That’s fair,” Maeve said. “As long as you don’t stop talking to me again.”

    “It’s a deal.”

    Sev rested his head on Maeve’s shoulder and allowed himself to remember what it was like to have a family.

    As they wended through the city, the night grew darker, and it was harder to make out the forms of the little creatures. If the shadows didn’t move like a curtain in a draft, he might have believed they were gone.

    This darkness added a metallic flavor to the air without an accompanying smell. 

    Sitting up, Sev watched the darkness concentrate over a house at the end of the lane.

    He smiled.

    The sky wasn’t dark. They warded the building to blind the ever-watchful eye of the moon from seeing what they did. To his own eye, the house resembled a mirage in the heat.

    As they parked in the cul-de-sac, the door to the house opened and a cloaked figure emerged from the well-lit vestibule. They motioned for them to enter with their gloved hand.

    “He must have lookouts,” Jade said.

    After disembarking from the cart, Jade picked up the ark. 

    Maeve took the lead and set the slow pace toward the door.

    A set of eyes glimmered from every window, monitoring their every step toward the building. Garland either increased his security since they had been gone or he did a superb job of keeping them out of sight before now.

    Within the lavishly decorated entrance hall, Ok’un in polished armor stood like statues around the walls and periodically up the stairs to the landing on the second floor.

    Garland himself kneeled at the top, talking with a red panda sadath whose familiar stared down at them.

    Maeve raised a hand to halt their ingress.

    Everything in sight gave off a sense of opulence, from the materials of the drapes to the carpets to the gilding that coated almost everything.

    Perfume diffusers lent a sweet floral scent to the air which was cooled by cold crystals hanging over porcelain basins that collect the water dripping from them.

    Garland finished his conversation and adopted a bright smile like a well-worn mask. He stood up and threw his arms out to the side in greeting, and said, "my friends, I am so glad you have returned. And what is this? You found the ark."

    He walked down the steps with a gate intended to imply playfulness, even giddiness. The coldness in his eyes expressed his authentic emotions.

    "It was easier than we thought it would be," Maeve said.

    Sev watched Garland closely.

    He smirked briefly before widening his smile to his eyes. "I am so glad to hear it. I hoped it wouldn't be too much of a bother for you."

    "No problem at all." Maeve nodded.

    Garland snapped his fingers and an ox sadath came forward with equipment, identifying him as an artificer.

    "We have to verify that this is the ark we sent you after. I'm sure you understand."

    Maeve motioned for Jade to set the crate down. "Of course, you paid us a lot of money. It's only right that you check your investment before you pay us the rest of what we are due."

    The artificer opened the crate and inserted a device with crystals inserted into it.

    "Where are my manners?" Garland said. "Would you like something to drink? After all, you must've come here directly from your ship, or I would've heard that you returned to Port earlier."

    "I would not like to think that we took advantage of your hospitality," Maeve said. “After all, people like us require a good report to drum up new business.”

    The artificer withdrew his hand. “This is the ark.” 

    Garland smiled. “The Nofraan people will be pleased to have the sacred relic returned to them.”

    "Then we have fulfilled our part of the bargain," Maeve said.

    "You have indeed." Garland snapped his fingers. "In fact, you have exceeded all of my expectations of you. If I have any further work, I will gladly send it your way."

    Maeve bowed her head. "We are always happy to serve."

    An Ok’un stepped forward with a bag of coins on a tray.

    Garland picked up the bag. "I will not be offended if you count your payment before you go." He tossed the bag gently through the air at Maeve.

    She caught the bag, and the coins jangled like a tremble dedicated to the God of wealth. "I think you have proven yourself to be trustworthy. Besides, any failure to live up to the terms of the contract would be punishable by the Admiralty Court. No one needs that sort of headache."

    Maeve bowed again, and the others followed suit.

    The Ok’un sprung to life and the mechanical soldiers ushered them to the door. 

    Maeve motioned for them to keep silent.

    They hopped onto the cart and drove away from the estate.

“He didn't expect all of us to make it back,” Jade said. “I could see it in his eyes. He was surprised to see us.”

    "That's because he set the trap we walked into," Maeve said.

    "I was wondering why you did everything but pledge fealty to him as your Lord," Crane said.

    "Overly grateful idiots is what he expected us to be. I only hope I didn't overplay the part."

    "Well, I almost believed you forgot about everything that happened on the voyage," Sev said. "We'll know soon enough if he bought it."

    "You don't think he'll try to kill us, do you?" Crane asked.

    “That depends on how worried they are about having any witnesses,” Sev said. “We may not understand what we saw, but if we tell the wrong people, they just might.”

    A silver light caught Sev's eye. 

    He looked up at the moon and nodded with a smile. 

    “We just need to make sure that we are ready for whatever comes next.”

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Maeve forced herself to stand up. The ritual burned strange shadows on the walls of the chapel and the aetheric pillars were gone. Sev's eyes flickered like large silver stars in their sockets.

    "What the hells was that?" Jade asked as he stood up.

    “Failure,” Sev said, shaking his head back and forth.

    “Not ours,” Maeve said. “We were unaware and unprepared for whatever that was.”

    “I wasn’t,” Sev said.

    “Yes,” Maeve said sternly. “You were. That moon maiden may have invested you with her power, but she didn’t tell you how to use it or that this was even going on.”

    “That is not an excuse.”

    “We don’t have time for this right now,” Maeve said. “We need to get that ark back to the ship before that tugwattle tells someone we are here, and they send someone after us.”

    Sev looked up. Glittering tears rolled down from his eyes. “Let’s go.”

    Maeve helped him to his feet.

    Jade retrieved the ark from the hidden passage.

    With their light crystals in hand, they wended their way out of the crypt. There was no need for stealth anymore. That tugwattle knew they were here.

    The tugwattle was nowhere to be seen when they exited the crypt into the starry night. None of the monks were outside the monastery walls.

    Dream ran up to Jade and circled him with a joyfully bounding gate. At least one of them was happy.

    They trudged through the terrain in silence. Not even the bells of the monastery interrupted the pained stillness, as if the world itself held its breath for what came next.

    Maeve kept her eyes on the path. She didn’t want to look up and curse the moon for what she had done to her friend. Her soul was too thin to be angry.

    On the shore, near the bow of the ship. Just for a moment, Maeve thought she saw the lady from her dreams weeping on the shore before melting away into the water as the waves pulled out.

    Why would she be crying? Wasn’t she part of the grand conspiracy that brought them here? What did she have to cry about? She got what she wanted. They did her bidding without realizing her control over them.

    Harley and Crane lowered the boarding ramp without a whistle.

    As Jade carried the arc down into the hold, Maeve explained to Harley and Crane what happened in the crypt in simple terms. 

    They said they never saw a sign of the Vazra or the Tugwattle.

    “So it was all a setup,” Harley said. “At least we got half the money upfront.”

    “They will pay the rest, if not more,” Sev said.

    “All of that will have to wait until we get back to Duskmere,” Maeve said. “We had such smooth sailing on the way here, I don’t know if we can expect the same for the voyage home. We might be more of a liability at this point.”

    “We have the reliquary of a saint on board. By their grace, if nothing else, we will make it home.” Sev touched his forehead, either out of reverence or because he had a headache. It was hard to read his expression.

    “Maybe we should light some candles to the saint to ensure their blessing,” Crane said.

    “Dearest holy whatever your name is, please bless us so we can return you to your people in hopes that you will not be stolen again.” Harley rolled her eyes. “Who wouldn’t answer such a pious prayer?”

    Maeve shook her head and masked her chuckling. “The real question is what do we do when we get back.”

    “People need to know that the Daskensians are up to something,” Crane said.

    “That is hardly news,” Harley said. “They are always up to something. First, we have to figure out what they did. Too bad we can’t ask a tugwattle.”

    “Why not?” Crane said. “The tugwattles know everything.”

    “They had a tugwattle with them, silly,” Harley said. “How would we know if the one we asked was on our side or not?”

    “Good question,” Crane said.

    Jade returned. “The cargo is secured, and based on the expressions on everyone’s faces, you filled them in about all that mess.” He motioned toward the crypt.

    Maeve walked up to the quarterdeck, and then turned the key in the wheel. She shouted orders, and they pulled out of the cove.

    Jade, Crane, and Harley joined her on the quarterdeck. Sev went below.

    “What are we going to do about moon boy?” Harley asked.

    “Don’t call him that,” Maeve said. “As mad as I am about the whole thing, he is going through a lot of things that we can’t even imagine. That doesn’t get him off the hook, but right now, he needs his space.”

    “Where is he going?” Jade pointed aft.

    An airship rose into the sky on the far side of the Chapel of Oanh. It turned, set a course to the north, and glided away from the island.

    “You think the tugwattle is on that ship?” Maeve asked.

    “Who else could afford an airship?” Harley said.

    “He got what he wanted from us,” Jade said. “I just wish I knew what he wanted it for.”

    Maeve kept the others as busy as she could, so they wouldn’t have time to bother Sev. She also distracted herself with as many mundane tasks as she could for the same reason. She swabbed the deck, polished the railings, and even patched the nets in case they needed to catch some fish on the voyage.

    For his part, Sev spent most of his time in his room. When she brought him his meals, he just sat on his bed with his arms wrapped around his knees, muttering.

    Once in a while, she saw him on deck whispering at the moon, but he never paid anyone any attention.

    Maeve struggled not to intervene. She didn’t have any words to soothe him, and he didn’t talk to her. Every day, she made sure she was available to talk to him if he wanted to, but she didn’t force her presence upon him.

    Every time she walked past the ship’s hold, she fought the urge to go down and open the ark to see what was so important. She wasn’t sure if it would violate the contract or not, but most reliquaries were sealed. Regardless, opening a reliquary would be a sacrilege often punished by a curse on the artifact for anyone who violates its sanctity.

    When had the possibility of having a cursed artifact on their ship become the least of her concerns? She didn’t bring it up to the crew—they focused more on what they wanted to spend the rest of the money on.

    Maeve wasn’t sure if they were even going to get the full payment. Garland may have been an unwitting pawn in all of this too, but she wouldn’t know until they finished the contract.

    A couple of days into the voyage home, Maeve changed her watch to the night so she could monitor Sev, who left his room every night to wander about the deck muttering to the moon.

    She never seemed to respond to him, as he grew increasingly morose throughout the night before slinking back to his room before the sunrise.

    The moon reflected in the glassy sea as the preternatural influence protected them as they sailed.

    Maeve would have relaxed more if they had some difficulty on the voyage. Were they rewarding them for helping them in the ritual, or had they yet to finish their work?

    Sev continued to pace in a circle on the deck, chanting, "we can fix this."

    One night, Maeve approached him carefully. He didn’t acknowledge her presence at all. 

    His insistent chant grew more rapid each time he said it. The desperation in his voice writing itself over his face.

    Maeve asked, “what can we fix?”

    Sev stopped and turned to her. “I failed my mission. We failed to save the world, but there has to be a way we can fix this.”

    “What if it isn’t for us to fix?”

    “Then who will?”

    Except for that one conversation, Sev didn’t talk to Maeve for the entire journey home.

    The rest of the crew discussed the strange ritual they witnessed and accidentally took part in.

    Many theories rose and fell in popularity among them, but all their speculation centered on the part they played within it.

    “Isn’t it obvious,” Crane said, “the final blow had to be struck by an innocent untainted by the magic of the ritual itself.”

    “That feels like a lot of work to go through,” Harley said. “After all, they could have just hired someone or tricked someone into taking the desired action. Every ritual component needs to be prepared for use.”

    “Do you think the moon maiden was involved?” Maeve asked.

    “If she was, they tricked her too,” Harley said. “The compassion of the argent throne is well known. It would be odd to perpetuate such a long con, but it is possible they set her up to decide. I can buy that. If she knew we were set up to be sacrificed, she may have intervened in a vain attempt to either save us or stop them.”

    “It’s obvious,” Jade said. “The final blow had to be an act of revenge. Sev isn’t special. Lost Soul killed all but one person on every one of those ships to seed the world with people who could be used in the final ritual. All of those stolen treasures we saw were bait in the trap to lure the blade to the altar. Sev might not have even been the only person used like this.”

    “You have a point,” Harley said. “What do we actually know about the Vazra? We don’t know that they are dead. They might be like the sadath and only have to return from the reverie.”

    Maeve hadn’t realized how relieved she was that Lost Soul was dead until Harley brought up the possibility he might return.

    They continued to discuss possibilities as they sailed on.

    As they approached Duskmere’s harbor, the sky turned black, and the moon turned to blood.

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The eerie black flames licked at the broken air around it, neither giving nor taking light from the room. Maeve forgot her body. There was only the black light. Nothing else existed in all the worlds.

    Somewhere in the void of existence, Sev muttered, "it's too late."

    But too late for what? Nothing existed but the light and its siren call.

    Nothing in all the tall tales and fairy stories prepared her for this. Sailors bragged of their many grand adventures and embellished the dangers they faced. Not a single story included a word about black fire. Its unnatural existence imposed itself on the world like a forbidden shadow of an unseen horror.

    As the blade drew back through the lantern and the broken air, it sparked against the metal grate surrounding the preternatural flame.

    The black-robed Vazra laid the sword on the altar and raised his hand to the edges of the cowl that framed the expressionless porcelain mask where his face should be.

    Pulling the fabric back, a black tricorn hat with multicolored phoenix feathers appeared as if emerging from a shadow. He unpinned the broach, holding his robe together at the neck, and let it fall to the ground.

    He wore a black frock coat, vest, and breeches, all with iridescence interwoven into the silk, so a rainbow of color flashed from the light, depending on the angle at which it was struck.

    Maeve recognized him from the wanted posters. This Vazra was the pirate, Lost Soul.

    Sev erupted in a frenzied whale as he recognized the man that murdered his family. He struggled against Jade, breaking free from his arms. He burst through the aetheric wall, drawing his sword.

    Lost Soul turned toward him, and the mask grinned. "At least you are punctual."

    Maeve sprung to her feet to stand next to her friend, who swore to avenge his family.

    The pirate laughed. “Their death is worthy of vengeance," he said with an odd certainty. "I remember the surprise on their faces when I ordered the guns to fire. They panicked as the wood splintered beneath them, and they understood that death had come for them. If only I could have stood in death's place in taking their souls into my own hands. I would have relished it all the more. I wish I could say they died well, Boy, but there was too much fear in them for that not to be a lie.”

    “Why did you kill them? There was no reason.” Tears ran from Sev’s eyes as his hatred distorted his face.

    "For the same reason I insured one person survived." The Vazra laughed again. "And the deed paid the dividend I required from it."

    Sev lunged at the pirate, who drew a blade from his belt and parried without effort.

    "Do not interfere!" Lost Soul said to the other Vazra in the room. "Stand your ground. He is mine."

    The other four stood like statues at the corners of the altar, their masked faces giving nothing away.

    Jade whispered to Maeve, “do we trust they are going to stay out of this, or do we engage them?”

    "We should focus on the pirate," she responded. "If we're lucky, we can knock him off balance and the three of us can run."

    "What about the ark?"

    "Our lives are the one thing I will always prize above the mission." Maeve had never been as sure of anything as she was of that.

    Sev lashed out at Lost Soul, who fended him off with the barest amount of effort imaginable. If he wanted to, he could've easily won the fight. Why was he toying with them?

    Jade attacked the pirate from behind, only to be intercepted by his second blade in his other hand. 

    Lost Soul danced between them with ease.

    Maeve sought a place to strike, to take him off guard. The fluidity with which the Vazra moved prevented many of the lines of attack she saw.

    Occasionally, he twisted completely around, proving his legs were not attached to the rest of him at the waist. He was a spirit with no skeleton or flesh to prevent him from turning or twisting in any way he wanted.

    Lost Soul wore no visible armor. If they struck him, they would hit his clothing. Would their blade slip through him doing no damage? 

    Maeve never fought a spirit before. She had never seen one fought or slain and didn’t have a firm grasp on what would happen.

    Sev’s blade passed just above Lost Soul, causing him to bend backward to avoid the strike.

    Lunging forward, Maeve struck towards the pirate’s head to cleave it in two.

    The Vazra twisted his neck so his mask rubbed against the collar of his frock coat without losing so much as a feather from his hat.

    Maeve changed the angle of her swing to prevent her blade from striking the stone floor.

    Lost Soul cackled with glee, and he contorted his body back into a formation that made him resemble a broken doll.

    The longer the fight stretched on, the more it worried Maeve that he hadn’t even tried to attack any of them. He expertly deflected every one of their blows without even once trying to land one himself.

    It was possible he enjoyed the fight, but as it languished on, no matter what sick thrill he received from the match, it had to be wearing thin. He was waiting for something. Biding his time to take the perfect shot.

    Lost Soul jumped up and flipped his body around to land flat on the ceiling like a spider and turned his head all the way around to look down at them.

    He sprung down.

    Jade, Sev, and Maeve raised their blades to guard against the incoming strike.

    The pirate dove over Maeve's head and landed on the other side of the altar.

    With a quick slash, he struck out at the red-robed Vazra, cutting them in half.

    Half the robe fell to the ground while the other half flew up in the air as a golden mist flashing with lightning struck at the lantern on the altar.

    Lost Soul laughed.

    Spinning, he hacked the blue-robed Vazra in half before jumping back onto the ceiling.

    As the cracking pops of the dying Vazra flowed into the black flame, Lost Soul’s maniacal laughter filled the room.

    The pirate jumped from the roof, driving his blade into the left eye socket of the green-robed Vazra before laying his weight onto the blade to cut him down the center.

    Without mercy, he slashed the one in the golden robe in half.

    As the misty lightning crackled around him, Lost Soul raised his arms, laughing.

    Sev struck at the pirate.

    Lost Soul parried his blade, continuing to laugh.

    Jade joined the fray, and the fight continued at the standstill it had been.

    Maeve held back.

    The life of the slain Vazra flashed in the lantern’s cage. Within, the black flame flickered like an eldritch shadow amid the lightning flickering around it.

    Lost Soul didn’t kill his comrades, he sacrificed them at the proper time. They hadn’t interrupted the ritual—they were part of it.

    This fight was as planned as the chants and ritual actions they had taken up to this point.

    Lost Soul raided the island and stole the ark so Garland would hire them to retrieve it.

    What part did they play in all this? Was the violence necessary for the ritual, or did he need something from them?

    When the time was right, would he slaughter them in the same way he did his companions?

    “We have to get out of here!” Maeve shouted.

    Lost Soul laughed and focused his attention on Sev. “Are you ready to run, little boy?”

    Sev screeched with rage and struck hard enough to cause the pirate’s blade to bounce in his hand.

    The pirate pressed forward, kicking Jade back. 

    Jade slammed against the wall near the door and slid to the ground.

    Sev stepped around to face Lost Soul head-on.

    “Are you not going to run?” the pirate asked.

    Without a word, Sev struck wildly.

    Maeve stiffened. “Stop!”

    Lost Soul lowered his blade, and Sev cleaved the Vazra at the neck and pressed through.

    Maeve grabbed Sev by the shoulders and pulled him back.

    The pirate wobbled on his legs and cackled madly.

    Misty lightning flashed from Lost Soul’s body to the lantern. The empty mask and clothes fell to the ground.

    Dark shadows rose from the remains of all five dead Vazra and rose in the air like fog.

    The light from the crystals embedded in the walls faded away.

    Only the faint glow of the aetheric pillars cast their colors over the room.

    Deep black figures stood at each corner, with one before the altar.

    The umbral fog rose into the air and spiraled into the lantern.

    A profound silence enveloped everything.

    The breath of the four survivors in the room punctuated the only silence in ragged pulses.

    A black flame erupted from the lantern, knocking them back and pressing them into the wall.

    The shadows slithered across Maeve’s face, pressing into her skin like it sought a way in.

    She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, wishing she could pinch her nose closed and cover her ears.

    Oily shadows slithered over her body like worms.

    Holding in the scream, her chest tightened. She didn’t want to let any of that into her body.

    Her lungs burned.

    She needed to breathe.

    Never would she submit to this darkness.

    It would have to kill her if it wanted to take her.

    Maeve prayed to whatever deity that might hear her thoughts. She even called on the maiden of the moon to help her since she had shown favor to Sev.

    The pressure on her back lessened, and she fell hard to the floor.

    Exhaling, she involuntarily gulped air into her lungs, coughing and wheezing.

    She opened her eyes.

    The light crystals flickered on the walls, and the darkness retreated into the lantern.

    Her entire body ached from the trauma of impact.

    She searched around her to find Sev and Jade trying to catch their breath like she did.

    A shadow moved up by the altar.

    The Tugwattle grabbed the lamp and ran out of the room.

    Maeve reached in his direction in a vain attempt to stop him. What had they done?

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Within the chapel at the heart of the crypt, the pillars of the altar twisted and turned like colored smoke trapped in glass tubes. Four-pointed stars were emblazoned on each wall with a strange birdlike glyph in the center.

    "This isn't an altar to Oanh," Maeve said, taking a step backward.

    "No," Sev said, "but it is why were are here."

    “What do you mean?” Jade asked.

    “It is everything I can do not to attack the altar.” Sev shook with rage.

    “The mission comes first,” Maeve said.

    “The mission,” Sev seethed, “comes first.”

    “You all can’t be serious,” Jade said. “This mission has been one mess after another.”

    No one argued with Jade.

    Maeve pointed to either side of the room, and Jade entered to the right and Sev to the left. 

    She walked up to the altar. Only a fool would touch a ritual object they didn’t understand, especially when it was charged and active like this one.

    The altar bore none of the runes or glyphs she expected to see. In fact, the altar itself was carved from the same stone as the room when this chapel was cut out.

    “It’s not here,” Jade said.

    Sev walked up next to her and kneeled before the altar. He reached out to it without touching it. A strange light glimmered from his eyes as he stared at the stone and spiraling aether.

    Maeve kept a close eye on him. They weren’t here to interfere with whatever it was the Vazra were up to. They came for the ark and that was it. She hoped to keep from making more enemies.

    A strange breeze wafted from the altar that reminded her of a fall day after the Sandvons Woods burned. The blood shone a vibrant red, even though it had congealed with age. What were they doing here?

    Sev murmured softly, as if talking to someone else. He was too quiet to understand.

    Jade stopped at the left corner of the room on the other side of the altar, holding both hands up to the wall.

    “There is another passage here,” he said. “They just placed a simple glamor on it.”

    Maeve tapped Sev on the shoulder.

    He continued his muttering and ignored her.

    Rolling her eyes, Maeve shook him until he broke out of his trance.

    “What?” Sev said.

    “I was about to ask you the same question. Jade found another passage.”

    Jade pushed his hand through the illusion and stepped into the unknown.

    Maeve followed. The curtain of deception felt like pressing through a cold waterfall. Turning to watch Sev pass through the glamor, she screwed her face up.

    The illusion didn’t touch this side of the passage.

    Sev stepped through as if he were afraid to slip on a patch of ice on the other side. Her view was dim, like looking through a screen. The fake wall was a one-way illusion.

    They must not have expected the uninitiated to find this place, or they would have put in more effort to secure it, like they had with the other corridor.

    After a short walk, the passage turned to the left into a hall lined with shelves, each with a different crate.

    “Double check each other,” Maeve said. “If the ark is here, we have to find it.”

    The other two nodded.

    Each box bore a script from a distinct language and more crests, glyphs, runes, and sigils than she ever imagined existed.

    The first box she encountered without markings stopped her in her tracks. It was so out of place amongst the others.

    She carefully pried it open and peaked within. It contained an odd staff with a stone embedded into the top of it.

    A sharp sting on her arm, and she pulled it away from the staff and out of the box.

    “We don’t know what that is,” Jade said. “No touching.”

    She hadn’t realized she reached into the box at all until she pulled her arm back. If Jade hadn’t smacked her shoulder, who knows what that staff might have done to her.

    Some artifacts possessed the minds and wills of their owner. They were the most dangerous sort. Why had it taken till now to remember her mother’s admonition against working with cursed artifacts?

    Twenty thousand cezri blinded her to a lot of the concerns she should have had about this mission.

    Maeve monitored herself closer as she opened the second and third unmarked crates they encountered but experienced the same attraction to the odd assortment of artifacts within them.

    Several of the boxes were the right size, but none of them had the markings on them from the picture Garland gave them.

    As she pried the next crate open, her breath caught in her chest.

    She reached into her pocket and pulled out the image and checked the markings on the top of the ark within.

    “I think we found it,” she said.

    Jade took the picture from her hand and checked it with Sev.

    “That’s it,” Jade said.

    Sev stared into the box. His lip quivered.

    Maeve wondered if he felt the same call she had.

    Jade picked up the crate. “It’s not as heavy as I thought it would be. Do you think they emptied it?”

    “And put it back in the crate and put it away nicely?” Maeve raised an eyebrow.

    “It’s not empty.” Sev pressed his ear against the side of the box. “I can hear something within it, feel its power flowing through me.”

    “That’s not creepy,” Jade said sarcastically.

    Maeve ushered Sev away from the crate and they walked back toward the hidden door.

    Chimes rang out from the chapel.

    Maeve froze.

    Slowly, she walked toward the illusory door into the secret passage.

    Five Vazra entered the chapel with the tugwattle they saw earlier.

    Maeve motioned for Jade to get ready to run. She hoped he understood her intention. With any luck, they would finish whatever they were doing and leave so they could sneak out without a problem. If they were noticed. She and Sev would distract them, so Jade could escape with the ark.

    From the grave expressions on their faces, they understood her well enough.

    She crouched down and rested her hand over the hilt of her sword so she could draw it and slash up in a single motion.

    The Vazra in a black robe placed the Tugwattle's lantern on the altar. Light flickered in the lantern. The four other Vazra chanted like the tolling of many bells. 

    Shadows moved in the aetheric columns on the corners of the altar. Strange faces and shadowy hands faded in and out of the colored smoke whirling around.

    The Tugwattle approached the side of the altar opposite the black-robed Vazra. He chanted an accompanying chant in Hight Apesh, the language of the rites performed by the priests of the Holy Lieges of Mount Ameslin.

    Such a sacrilege would never be tolerated if word made it back to the holy city of Lightfell. The holy language was never meant to be spoken outside of sacred rites or the holy precincts beneath the mountains.

    He spoke with such fervor, his eyes bulged out of his head. Moving his arms with slow, deliberate motion, he made signs and sigils with his fingers and his whole body. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he chanted with even more zeal than he did before.

    An odd energy filled the room as they worked together to perform whatever ritual this was.

    Maeve’s hairs stood up, and the sweet smell of thunder poured into the room.

    As they chanted, the air grew brittle and thin, like it might shatter with each breath. 

    Its sharpness burned in Maeve’s lungs like she rubbed sandpaper within her chest every time she inhaled or exhaled.

    Her eyes grew heavy.

    She fought off sleep.

    If they could have stood their ground against so many Vazra, Maeve would have led the charge into battle, but nothing would have come of it but their death. 

    The air around the lantern cracked, and a dark fire seeped through the breeches.

    Sev lurched towards the door.

    Jade grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

    “Let me go,” Sev hissed.

    “What do you think you can do?” Maeve whispered.

    “We can stop or at least slow them down.” His face twisted with unrecognizable rage. “I have been blessed by the argent court. She gave me her power. I can stop this.”

    “And if you can’t?” Maeve asked. “What good will it do if we all die here, and no one learns what happened here until it is too late?”

    “Who do you think we can tell? The Mancai won’t do anything. The Aplani are too pious. The Proitanians only care about themselves. The Ceshain keep to their mountains. The Nadee Jheel is too far away. Who do you think we can tell?”

    “Anyone who will listen,” Maeve said. “We need to find someone who understands what they are doing. We cannot spot something we don’t understand.”

    “Unless we stop them now.”

    “And what if we make things worse?”

    Sev fell quiet and stopped struggling.

    The problem with magic was how much it relied on symbols and elements invested with meaning. If one thing was off, only the fates knew what would come of it.

    Sev seethed. His eyes shown a brilliant silver, like a torch shimmering in a mirror. A white iridescence crept across his skin to where he almost shone from his own light. 

    If it weren’t from the reflected colors on the altar, Maeve would have sworn he glowed.

    Jade didn’t let go of him.

    Upon closer examination, Sev’s muscles twitched as he tested the Sadath’s hold on him.

    Maeve agreed with his intentions but didn't believe it was worth the risk. She was not about to sacrifice their lives to a god without a much better reason than her friend had an intuition.

    The black-robed Vazra thrust a blade through the cracks in the air through the lantern flame.

    The fire turned black.

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Maeve and Jade walked in opposite directions around the walls of both rooms, seeking any sign of a false wall.

    Maeve reached out through the aether to find the air currents in the room. In the past, she had found false walls by tracking the draft leaking through the imperfect seal between the rooms. 

    Jade studied the way of the crooked hand. Deception and illusion spoke to him like kin. 

    Between them, no secret passages could hide.

    “Don’t stop till one of you finds it,” Sev said. “There is more here than we know. I can feel it.”

    Maeve stopped.

    Voices filtered in from the dark passage to the outside. Strange and indecipherable, but louder than the whispers that haunted her for so long.

    Light cast off the gloom at the end of the passage.

    Someone was coming.

    Maeve signaled for the others to hide.

    Jade rushed silently with Dream into the back corner, behind the many shelves.

    Sev hid himself behind one of the larger chests.

    Maeve snuck through the stacks and hid behind an amphora large enough to obscure her.

    Five figures entered the crypt in long, flowing robes, either black, yellow, green, blue, and red in their entirety. They didn't touch the ground. No part of them did. White, emotionless porcelain masks floated under the shadows of the hood.

    Why were the Vazra interested in the crypt? They were legendarily neutral in the affairs of mortals. Why would they support an invading power?

    The Vazra spoke to each other in a melodious language, reminiscent of chimes in the wind.

    Maeve grew up on stories about the Vazra. They were creatures made of pure aether that some believed were the incarnations of magic itself. Their power was second only to the deities.

    Spirits like them usually kept to themselves. Why were they in a crypt in Daskensian territory filled with stolen wares?

    They stopped their chattering and glanced around the room.

    Silence filled the space and crushed the breath in Maeve’s lungs. She dared not breathe for fear they would hear her. They weren’t a match for a single Vazra, let alone all five.

    One of them stared right at her. Its eyeless face betrayed nothing. Had it seen her?

    She slid down and pressed her back to the amphora, praying to anyone listening to prevent them from being found.

    One of them said something.

    Maeve peeked around the amphora.

    The other four nodded and followed them to the far corner of the room.

    The leader pressed their gloved hand on a stone high off the ground, and a portion of the wall melted away.

    They passed through and closed the passage behind them.

    Maeve waited for the Vazra to move a respectable distance away before she stood up. She turned to her companions. “We need to go now.”

    Sev shook his head as he and Jade came out of hiding.

    “No, we have to finish this,” Sev said.

    “We aren't prepared to fight off one, let alone five Vazra,” Maeve said. “Dying is worse than defaulting on a contract.”

    Sev walked toward the corner of the room without saying a word.

    Jade rushed over to him and grabbed him from behind. “Stop it. We stand together or not at all.”

    “We have to follow them.” Sev kicked and struggled to break free from Jade. “They know where all the secret passages are. How else are we going to find the other doors?”

    "What will it matter if they kill us?" Maeve asked. "If we die here, we cannot redeem our reputations. We will die failures. Sure, we will be disgraced if we abandon the commission, but we can earn our favor back."

    "Agreed." Jade nodded. "There's no point in rushing toward death if we don't have to."

    "And what about our contract with Garland? Do think he will be so forgiving?" Sev stopped struggling. "He could report us to the Admiralty Court, or he could just kill us. He doesn't strike me as the forgiving or accepting sort of person. Besides, we need the money. We can't afford to pay back what we've already spent for supplies, and we need whatever we can get if we want to keep going."

    It was at times like these Maeve wished she had the luxury to work for greed or adventure, but the constraints of a windjammer's life required them to get the jobs done. Maeve grimaced. “What do you think we will accomplish if we press on and those Vazra turn on us?”

    Sev stared into the wall. “Do you think the moon maiden named me her champion to just let me die in this crypt?”

    “Who knows why the spirits do anything?” Maeve said. “I am not willing to put my trust in a spirit that won’t even tell us her name.”

    “That’s not what I am saying.” Sev tapped on Jade’s arms.

    Jade turned to stand between him and the false wall before putting Sev down.

    “What I meant was, I feel something calling to me further in. I need to get there. I can’t tell you why, but I have to.”

    “You would risk all of us for your feeling?” Jade asked.

    Sev sighed. “If you want to leave, let’s go.”

    Maeve held her tongue. If they left, they would have to face Garland and possibly the wrath of an angry spirit. There was no way to escape the moon.

    Which would be worse, the Vazra or a vengeful moon? As much as she wanted to run, as long as they didn’t intentionally break the contract, they would have one less enemy.

    “I agree with Sev,” Maeve said.

    Jade’s black eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

    “What choice do we have?” Maeve asked. “Dangerous spirits surround us. It is better to not add a client and the admiralty court to that.

    Jade scowled at Sev. “Your rashness took the choice from us. I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one.”

    Sev didn’t turn to face him. “I followed my heart. Sorry if that wasn’t good enough for you.”

    Jade kneeled and called Dream over. “I need you to get out of here. Follow us above ground and if anything happens, get back to the ship as fast as you can.”

    The sharkhound pawed at him before nuzzling into his cheek. Slowly, he ambled out of the room and down the dark passage.

    Maeve wished she had a familiar. The only way to kill a Sadath was to kill both the Thegn and the familiar. So long as one lived, they both lived. It made Sadath formidable foes.

    “At least if the worse happens you will make it out of here,” Sev said.

    Was he being sarcastic or sincere? His face read genuinely, but his tone was mocking.

    “Have you ever had to fend for yourself in the reverie?” Jade glowered menacingly. “No? Then don’t speculate on how I would be.”

    Maeve held herself at the ready to jump in if their bickering descended into a fight. “Save it for when we are back on the ship. We have work to do.”

    This didn’t use to feel like work. Raiding crypts was a perk of the job. This contract wasn’t worth the cezri.

    Jade pressed the rock, and they crept down the passage.

    They walked through the darkness with a hand on the wall and the other on the shoulder of the person in front of them. Their light crystals would give away their presence, so they kept them in their pouches.

    The distant chiming voices of the Vazra haunted the shadows. Odds were slim as they stood in the gloom talking to each other.

    Maeve pressed on. 

    After the first turn to the right, Sev took her by the hand and whispered, "follow me, I can see the path."

    “How?” she asked in a hushed exclamation.

    The eerie music of the Vazras’ conversation filled the gap as Sev led them forward.

    “My rashness I suppose,” he said in a way that stabbed her in the heart.

    If they survived this, she had a lot of things they needed to talk about. She squeezed his hand, hoping he understood it as a silent apology. She was still mad at him but not enough to throw their friendship away. They had been through too much.

    The chimes grew louder, and the air took on the scent and flavor of old incense smoke, unable to free itself or settle. Cold air pricked her skin. The passage may not have dipped down, but the hills rose above them. 

    They followed the long passage through the inky darkness, eventually turning to the right. After a short walk, they stopped.

    Voices echoed from ahead, different from the chiming of the Vazra. Maeve couldn’t make out what they were saying.

    They faded.

    Who else was down here with them?

    Sev led them off to the right, toward the voices.

    They skulked down another long passage, stopping periodically when the clanking of chains rattled in the distance. 

    When the sound faded, they continued and turned to the left.

    As they crept down another long corridor, the ringing chimes of the Vazra ahead mixed in with a mortal voice. 

    Light bled across the path before them to the right, and they stopped to see the Vazra talking to a Tugwattle with black fur and a silver stripe running from the tip of his nose, up between his eyes to over his wedge-shaped head and down his back.

    Why was a Tugwattle here?

    The Vazra follow the Tugwattle into a room to the right and closed the door behind them.

    They glanced among themselves, attempting to speak without words.

    Since the passage continued on past the door, they slunk down, pausing for a moment to overhear what was happening in the room, before creeping further down the hall.

    After a left turn, they walked down a corridor to another left turn. 

    The light crystals hung in sconces embedded into the polished stone walls. Whoever built this place did so with care. After so much time in darkness, the light unnerved her. The floors were not tiled, but carved smooth from the same stone as the walls.

    Everything was so perfect, Maeve had to wonder if they used a Shamir to cut through the stone. It all had a preternatural perfection about it.

    At the end of the passage on the left wall, they found another locked door. 

    Jade worked on the wards.

    Maeve hated the expression on Sev’s face as he avoided looking at either of them. If only she had access to the arcana necessary to heal their friendship and restore everything to the way it used to be. She doubted such a power even existed. If anyone had that gift, they would rule the world, and no one would be able to challenge them.

    “Sev,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I judged you for your decision. Who knows, I might have done the same thing in your position.”

    “I understand. I broke the deal we had. You handled the clients, and I handled the business. I wasn’t thinking.”

    “Nothing we’ve been through could have prepared us for any of this. What was it your father used to say?”

    “Our business is facing the unknown with style.”

    He smiled, and she allowed herself to do the same.

    Understanding the wards better, it didn’t take Jade as long to open it.

    Jade swung the door open.

    Within was a chapel with a bloodstained altar and four aethereal pillars connecting it to the ceiling.

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Maeve opened the door slowly. Beyond this point, fear lurked in the shadows, ready to spring anything upon them. Garland gave them no description of the passages or the dangers within. They studied the drawing of the ark, and she hoped they would recognize it when they saw it.

    Sev grabbed her arm and said, "it is in there. I can feel its power. It isn’t alone. There are so many other things." 

    Maeve searched the yawning darkness for movement and grumbled under her breath, "why is it you never have a wizard with you when you need one?"

    Jade chuckled. “Because they are expensive and stay with their own.”

    Maeve and Sev locked eyes for a moment, and he released her.

    Maeve stepped into the Crypt. Retrieving a pouch from her belt, she slid the light crystal out of the bag and cradled it in her palm to illuminate her path.

    The passage brightened as Sev and Jade did the same. 

    Cautiously, they walked down the dark hallway.

    The shadows on the walls slithered like a generation of vipers away from the light.

    Flecks of quartz in the wall sparkled in the light like tiny eyes staring at them from the gloom.

    At the end of the crooked passage, they passed through a door into a room stacked with crates and other treasures. 

    A glimmery rindle ran around the periphery of the room, illuminating everything with a soft blue light.

    They split up to search through the contents of the room.

    As Maeve walked down the hall, the light from the gutter glowed brighter nearest her as she scanned down each towering shelf, looking for the ark.

    Few of the boxes were big enough to contain the ark. Given the dimensions of it, she presumed it contained the relics of a saint. It was too big to be an ossuary but smaller than a typical sarcophagus. It might have contained weapons or ceremonial artifacts, but she doubted that was the case.

    Maeve jumped back.

    She swore eyes gazed at her from over the lip of the gutter.

    There was nothing there.

    Continuing her search around the room, she monitored the gutter. Something wasn’t right.

    The thick luminous fluid erupted from the gutter and coalesced into a glittering mass of anger and rage.

    Maeve called out to the others. She popped the light crystal in her pocket and drew her cutlass from its sheath.

    The glittering horror oozed toward her as tendrils emerged from its body. They struck out toward her like a knot of serpents.

    Maeve parried each strike.

    Jade roared to her right, attracting the attention of some tentacles away from her. His sharp triangular teeth shone brightly in his wide jaws. 

    Sev ran in on her left and cupped his hands together, chanting in a language Maeve had never heard before.

    The glittering horror split itself from a common base into three seething lumps of shivering slime. Each lashed out of its own accord.

    Maeve rushed between Sev and a mass of tendrils, hacking them off before they hit him.

    Slithering on the stone floor, the detached ooze returned to the central mass.

    Maeve and Jade danced around the glittering horror, fending off its attacks.

    Jade stuck the central body a couple times, but the wound healed with no sign of damage to the creature at all.

    Sev shouted a foreign word, and silver light flashed from his joined hands in a beam into the center of the beast.

    A shadow fell within the creature like the eclipse of an inner light.

    Gray and motionless like stone, the once glittering horror evaporated into a cloud of shadows and faded into nothing.

    Maeve and Jade stared at Sev.

    “How did you do that?” Maeve asked.

    Sev rubbed his eyes and steadied himself. “Instinct. I simply knew what to do.”

    Could there have been a more unsatisfying answer? 

    Maeve huffed but said nothing. The mission came first. “Be careful in case there are other traps but get back to searching. We may have set off an alarm.”

    It wasn’t easy to keep an eye out for the ark. Maeve kept glancing at Sev. How did he speak a language so naturally that she had never heard before?

    Why did he have to make such a momentous decision after they set sail? She didn’t really want to ask the question. The moon maiden made the offer when she did, and it probably wasn’t a coincidence.

    What would the moon maiden want with this ark? Garland said nothing about the Nofraans worshiping the moon, and none of the symbols or sigils in the ark's sketch invoked the moon. A couple might have called on the sun, so there could be a rivalry at work, but there wasn’t enough to show they were a solar cult either.

    Nothing about this voyage added up to her. Twenty thousand cezri was a reasonable amount to pay to send a mission into Daskensian waters, risk the wrath of a deity, and make it back with the ark. Most of the first installment went to pay for supplies for the voyage.

    Maeve stopped and closed her eyes. It was too late to allow any of these doubts to creep in.

    The moon maiden and Garland had no connections. Anything else would be a baseless conspiracy theory.

    “The ark isn’t in here,” Jade said.

    Maeve opened her eyes and nodded.

    “I can feel it,” Sev said, “or something like it. There is so much power here.” He kicked the floor. “If they hadn’t stolen so many relics, this would be a lot easier.”

    “Imagine how much we could get for all this if we just looted the place,” Jade said with a sinister grin, accentuating his shark-like features.

    “We don’t have time for that.” Maeve moderated her tone. “We need to either find the ark or prove it isn’t here, then get home.”

    “If it isn’t here,” Jade asked, “do you think he will accept us not finding it?”

    Maeve shook her head. “If it’s not here, we will have to find it or return the funds he gave us.”

    Jade walked over to the other door in the room.

    “Don’t worry, Maeve.” Sev smiled. “We will find it. I know it is here.”

    Maeve smiled back.

    “It won’t take me long to unlock this door,” Jade said.

    Jade pressed his enormous hands against the door. His body shadowed the frame, and his head loomed above the lintel. He closed his eyes and light flashed from his hands, forcing the wards to become visible. He chanted under his breath.

    Maeve glanced over her shoulder. “You two stay here and be ready to hide. I think I heard something.”

    Sev and Jade acknowledged her with a nod.

    Maeve moved her head around to pinpoint the origin of the faint whispers filtering into the room.

    Stepping slowly toward the passage they followed into the crypt, the careless whispers grew louder. Whoever spoke didn’t want to be heard, but they also didn’t seem to know anyone else was around or they would have modulated their voices better.

    They spoke in an unfamiliar language. They disagreed over whatever they were talking about. She made out at least three voices, arguing in hushed tones.

    As she stepped out of the passage into the dark night, she scanned the surroundings and saw no one.

    “Spirits,” she huffed.

    If no one visible whispered, then spirits haunted the land arguing about something.

    Maeve rushed back to the chamber, where Jade continued to unlock the wards.

    “We are being haunted,” Maeve said.

    “Not necessarily,” Sev said. “It is possible there is so much power here you are hearing echoes of their past bleeding into the present.”

    Only two of the twelve wards on the door unbound and faded away.

    Maeve held her tongue. Rushing Jade would break his concentration and slow him down.

    The faint whispers reminded her of a beehive humming and buzzing at the edge of her hearing range.

    While she tried to limit herself to having only one thing to worry about at a time, fate had other plans for her. What was the name of the deity of fate? She would have to look that up and build a shrine to them in her room to curry favor.

    Sev stared off into the wall like he saw something.

    “What is it, Sev?” Maeve asked as she struggled with the worms of anxiety in her gut.

    “It’s nothing.” His voice was distant and distracted, as if he were listening to a conversation in another room.

    “Then what are you staring at?” Maeve insisted, hoping she rid her voice of that motherly tone he so often accused her of having.

    “I don’t know.” His voice trailed off.

    Before the moon maiden, he would have prattled on endlessly about what he was seeing or feeling. He used to share everything with her. Now he was so damned mysterious.

    Dream perked up and sniffed the air. He scanned around the room with narrowed eyes.

    Maeve glanced repeatedly from the direction the sharkhound looked and back to him, hoping to figure out what drew his attention. She followed him around the room as he traced the elusive sound or smell or whatever it was.

    He didn't react at all to the persistent whispering she heard, so it must've been something else beyond the range of her own senses.

    "I got it," Jade said as he swung the door open.

    Within the locked room, the violent blue light of a bone forge cast an eerie light on the stack of skulls and other assorted bones across the room from it.

    Why was such a vile instrument of necromancy secreted beneath a shrine to an unrelated God? In one way it made sense to invoke the deity of locked doors to keep people away from the monstrous arts practiced in this room. This was more than she expected to find.

    To Maeve at least, this proved the ark they searched for contained the bones of a saint. Such artifacts were precious to the devilish artificers who practiced such arts.

    The three of them fanned out to search the room for any sign of the cask.

    On a table near the forge, the bones had been crafted into some kind of enchanted masks. She grabbed a couple that appeared to be finished hanging from pegs on the wall. She had to find out what they were up to.

    If the Daskensians resorted to this form of Necromancy, the fleet needed to prepare for the horrors they might unleash against them.

    Multifarious bones and bottles of blood covered the tables and shelves throughout the room. Without labels or scraps of wood, it was impossible to determine if any of these bones belonged to the ark. They came from every sort of creature she could imagine.

    Her blood froze throughout her body. This sort of spirit magic lay so far beyond her ability to comprehend. The price one had to pay to perform such magic was so high, the practitioner’s core could never be cleansed or purified.

    Political ambition, imperial expansion, greed, and avarice pervaded the archipelago. This sort of darkness eluded her sight until now. There hadn’t even been rumors about such things.

    Whoever was behind this had enough power to keep such a secret.

    Jade and Sev met her at the door. They had found no sign of the ark, either. What had she gotten them into?

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Maeve awoke, grateful for a good night’s sleep. She scratched Gomruth on the back of his head. They basked in the morning sunlight. A peculiar energy wafted through the air, casting a chill like a shadow.

    She ignored it. As they drew closer to Clarestone Enclave, her anticipation grew. Besides, a shrine should cast a strange pall.

    Maeve hated surprises. Nothing good arrived unannounced or unexpected. Such a challenge required a clear and focused mind. She always turned into the wave so it didn't capsize her; if only Garland provided them more and better information about the crypt.

    Maeve stumbled half-asleep out of her room. She shambled to the galley for a hot cup of ezaan to wake up.

    Bas sat at the table with silver-white hair and mirror-like eyes. His formerly pale skin shimmered with a silver hue. 

    “What happened to you, Bas?” Maeve asked as she filled her cup.

    “Please don’t call me that anymore,” he said in an emotionless tone that bordered on melancholy. “Call me Sebastian or Sev.”

    “All right,” Maeve said, taking a sip of her ezaan. “Sev, what happened to you?”

    “I,” he stared off blankly for a few moments before adding, “she made me a new person.”

    Maeve set her cup down on the counter. "Who is she?"

    "Last night," Sev said, his face lighting up and emotion returning to his voice. "She called me up into the heavens and named me her palatine to the argent throne."

    A bemused smile pressed itself across Maeve’s face. "Say that again, please."

    "If you don't believe me, ask Jade. He saw it happen. She called me up into the heavens, where a Moon maiden named me her Palatine, her champion in this world. Don't you see, it is the adventure I have always been waiting for."

    "And how is this new grand adventure of yours going to affect the rest of us?"

    Sev turned and looked at her. Though his skin was so crystalline pale, she recognized his face. His eyes were different. It was like someone else peered at her with Sev’s face.

    "I will be able to do more than I could before." 

    He said it so matter-of-factly she didn't know how to argue with him.

    "So you weren't coerced or forced into this in any way?"

    Sev smiled. "I have always wanted to live a life worthy of legend and song. Now I finally have a chance to make that happen."

    Maeve didn't have the words to respond. All she wanted was for her friend to be happy, but if that happiness meant she would lose him forever, she didn't know if she could bear to pay that price.

    So close to their destination, Maeve didn’t have the time or energy to seed division among the crew, so she ignored Sev’s rash decision to accept a gift from a spirit without talking about it with the crew first.

She had never met a spirit. What pressures would she have experienced in his situation? Such an experience must be intoxicating.

    She didn’t know how to address the issue with the crew. 

    Jade acted out the story of how Sev was taken and returned to the ship. He believed it was a good sign that one of them had attracted the blessing of a noble spirit.

    Crane didn’t care. Many people he knew from home had gone on pilgrimage to Lightfell, where they returned with blessings from the Lieges.

    Harley was far less accepting, but she agreed with Maeve that they needed to understand the ramifications of the deal Sev had made with the moon maiden before she could form an opinion.

    Life on the Buttercup carried on relatively normally. The exception was Sev keeping to himself. He also switched to the night watch to learn more about the gifts he’d received.

    On the third morning, Clarestone Enclave came into view on the horizon. Maeve set a course to come into a secluded cove to dock. 

    Maeve and Crane reconnoitered the island. 

    The Chapel of Oanh stood on the top of the hill. Its ancient gray stone weathered white from the relentless sea breeze. The lead in the stained-glass windows shown brilliantly, like polished silver against the frosted doll colors of the glass.

    Hooded monks milled about the grounds in orangey-brown robes tied about the waist with black cords. Nothing they wore signaled what arcane arts they practiced if any at all. It was uncommon for a monastery not to teach at least one of the aetheric arts to its members, so they would have to be careful until they understood which ones.

    The entrance to the crypt stirred a fair distance from the monastery compound itself. It may not have even been connected to the monks. Its proximity to the shrine made that unlikely.

    They watched the entrance to see if anyone entered or left. The whole time they sat in the grass waiting, no patrols passed them. No guards were stationed anywhere near it. 

    After a couple of hours of observing nothing, they returned to the ship to make the last preparations for entering the crypt.

    Maeve and Crane reported back about everything they saw.

    "Some of us should stay on the ship in case it's spotted by a Daskensian raider while the rest of us retrieve the ark from the crypt."

    Sev stared off toward the crypt, "I'm going with you."

    Maeve smiled and nodded. She resisted saying something she would regret at the beginning of such a potentially dangerous mission. With any luck, whatever gifts the moon maiden had given him would help and not hinder.

    Jade also volunteered to come. He was an adept of the crooked hand. He was necessary to the success of the mission.

    Crane and Harley remained on the ship.

    Maeve, Sev, Jade, and his familiar Dream disembarked. 

    The sharkhound ran ahead of them to scout the path. His small stature made him the least likely to be seen, and he could run back to warn them of dangers ahead.

    The monks moved in dotted lines, chanting their prayers in Daskensian to Oanh. Jade wanted to fight their way in, but since they would have to fight their way out, Maeve wanted to keep their presence a secret for as long as they could.

    A bell chimed from the chapel. With each tone, Sev's eyes flickered like a flint struck to build a fire. 

    He closed his eyes and covered them with his hands, but not to obscure the light. With each toll of the bell, he winced in pain.

    Maeve took him by the arm. “Do you need to go back to the ship?” she whispered.

    He shook his head while keeping his mouth clamped shut to keep a scream from escaping. 

    Maeve held him as he quivered with pain. The bell must have been enchanted. Not against thieves, or they all would have suffered like Sev. What had the moon maiden done to him? Why was he vulnerable to the bell’s tolling? Was it enchanted specifically to harm those touched by the spirits and if so, why? Wouldn’t that prevent the monks themselves from receiving Oanh’s blessings?

    As the last tone of the bell reverberated to the windswept silence of the hills, Sev collapsed to his knees.

    “Are you sure you don’t need to return to the ship?” Maeve asked.

    “I will be fine,” Sev said. “I saw the faces of monsters at the bell's sound. I felt their violent claws tearing into me and knew they wanted me dead.” He stood back up. “We need to be swift. Something isn’t right about this.”

    As the last toll faded away, Maeve helped Sev back to his feet.

    “What does that mean?” Jade asked in a low rumble.

    “I think it was a warning, but I can’t make sense of the images that flooded my mind. They came too fast, and I didn’t recognize any of them.” He blinked his eyes and shook his head like he tried to get water out of his ears. “It was like an icy hand grabbed me by the heart and tried to crush the life out of me.” 

    Maeve refused to call him out for leaping into the role of a palatine without thinking it through. Now wasn’t the time. She forced an understanding smile onto her face.

    Once Sev shook off his experience, they made their way to the entrance of the crypt. Since the monks went into the chapel, they encountered no one on the path.

    Sev reached out to the door without touching it. “It is glowing.”

    Jade waved his hands in front of the door. “He’s right. The door is warded.”

    “Garland should have known about the ward and warned us about it. Do you have what you need to open it?”

    Jade hit the barrier with his fist and watched the light ripple around it. “This isn’t like any ward I have seen before,” he said. “Give me some time and I should be able to crack it.”

    “I can see the incantation written into the barrier,” Sev said.

    “Can you read it?” Maeve asked.

    Sev shook his head slowly. “I feel like I understand it.”

    Jade shrugged. “I didn’t see an incantation or a ward. Maybe the moon maiden blessed him so we could get in.”

    Maeve sighed. She hated the notion of their fate being dictated by creatures beyond her understanding. “I don’t care which of you unseals the door as long as we get in.”

    Sev sat next to the barrier with his hand on it. Light rippled in sharp rings from it as if he tapped on the surface of a limpid pond.

    Maeve monitored his interactions with it as closely as her abilities allowed. It wasn’t an aspect of the windjammer’s art. She never learned to see the subtleties of aether as it flowed through the world.

    Sev studied the same arts as she did. He shouldn’t be able to see the aether either. That he could apparently see it now showed how much the moon maiden changed him.

    It took years of study to learn how to see the aether, and she gifted this ability to him with none of that effort. Power gained so quickly easily corrupted those who received it. When this was over, she needed to set him free.

    The door flashed, and the light crumbled to dust as the seal broke.

    Sev grinned like he inhaled a fast-acting intoxicant.

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Bas lay on his bed, starring into the beams and boards of the ceiling. His muscles were sore from the fight. Now they released their tension since they escaped unharmed.

    To focus his mind, Bas recited the oath of the mariner, “we rise with the tide and ebb with the moon. For honor, we risk the waves. For glory, we test our mettle. For freedom, we fight.” 

    As the only rhymer aboard, it was his job to commune with the waves and understand the ways of the sea, but the ocean kept her secrets from him lately.

    The light of the moon crept across the floor, whispering a sweet melody into the room. 

    Bas sat up in bed and listened to the song. It wasn't the same melody that invaded their dreams and kept sneaking out of them whenever they let their guard down. 

    Cold isolation filled the notes of the tune and tugged at his heart. The simple melancholy of the song lingered like an ancient haze in the long-forgotten mausoleum.

    At first, it pretended to play on a reed flute, but it was a feminine voice.

    Bas slipped out of bed and wandered over to the breathsteel window. Shafts of silvery light stirred the water of the placid sea, churning small ripples into its glassy surface. 

    Bas headed up to the deck to get a better view of the sky. 

    Jade paced back and forth on the quarterdeck while Dream slept under the wheel.

    Light streaked down from the moon, splitting like the sun through a tree’s branches. They dipped their fingers gently into the water as if testing the temperature before stepping in. 

    Otherwise, nothing about the moon appeared different or out of place.

    Stories proliferated of denizens of the Argent Throne, toying with the people of Nalea to their own ends.

    The beam raised up and caressed Bas’ cheek like the gentle touch of a lover. His feet left the deck until the light passed. He pressed his forehead against the window as his chest tingled.

    Bas glanced at the door to go below deck. Should he wake Maeve? He shook his head. If she wasn't up here already, she must have been asleep. He didn't want to be the one to disturb her from her rare slumber.

    A shaft of light touched the deck next to him.

    Without thinking, Bas stepped into its gentle embrace. As the beam moved, he kept pace with it in a sweet courtship dance.

    Silvery embers flared from the light and drifted away from his skin. These embers joined the dance around him like glittering fireflies caught in a light breeze.

    The water bubbled and boiled around the ship. A soft blue light filled the air. 

    Thundering footsteps ran toward him. “What is happening?” Jade asked.

    Bas lazily glanced at him and smiled before realizing that his feet no longer touched the deck.

    Jade reached for Bas, who grabbed his hand.

    The silvery light pulled at him like a current in the water.

    Bas pulled on Jade’s arm, but his hand slipped like a slippery oil coated them. Delight filled him as the light seeped into his skin. He didn't want to get carried away but bore no ill will at the power that raised him into the air.

    "I think a moon maiden fancies me," Bas said as his grip finally slipped off Jade's hand.

    In his studies, he learned light body technique and could run through the air like any adept of the aetherial arts. This floating felt nothing like that.

    Would he ever return to the ship? Maeve was the closest thing he had to family since The Crimson Tear sank, taking his family down with her. Tears filled his eyes. He cursed the pirate Lost Soul under his breath. Once he looted their ship, he didn’t have to sink it. They surrendered. He would never forget the look in his father’s eyes recorded on the log crystal. He couldn’t believe they fired on the vessel after they took their cargo. There was no reason to take life like that.

    Was it worth it to give up his family in pursuit of his dreams? He struggled against the pull of the moon. Futility mocked him with an ecstatic thrill that flooded his body as he gave in to the flight. Whether he returned was out of his control.

    Whatever was happening reminded him of a time when he and Maeve were playing in a small stream on an island their parents moored on for a bit of R&R.

    He’d swum too far out and got caught in the current. It pulled him downriver. When it happened to him as a child, his body shook, and he whimpered. The life on the sea had shown him the horror of drowning. How could he drown in the sky?

    His entire body lightened, like floating in a dry ocean that neither wet nor coated his skin. It's not as though he felt nothing touching him.

    Icy fingers stroked his cheek and his neck from the very light itself. It tingled and excited him. He never imagined what it would feel like to come to the attention of one of the noble spirits, or even a deity that ruled over his world. He’d read tales of ecstatic rapture and imagined this must be what they were talking about.

    As he looked down at his ship below him, a school of stellar cloud rays burst out of the sea and spiraled around the ship.

    They danced around him as if they could hear the sweet melody of the moonlight calling to them as well.

    His heart fluttered, and he couldn't help but laugh as the rays danced through the sky and the shaft of light carried him further away from the world he had known.

    The lightness filled his body and he spun through the air. 

    With a crooked smile, he focused on his breath and added to the effect with the light body technique that allowed him to walk on water and run across the aether into the sky. 

    He danced into the sky with the cloud rays. The embrace of the moon took hold of him.

    The presence in the moonlight took him by the hand and twirled along with him. He felt each of their icy fingers wrapping around his hand and touching his waist.

    Bas sighed. Part of him wanted to swoon, to give himself over completely to the ethereal joy that called him up into the heavens.

    It never crossed his mind to ask why he was flying, dancing with the light surrounded by cloud rays. Nothing had ever felt so natural to him.

    He craved to hold the stranger who danced with him close. He longed to kiss down their neck and feel their skin up against his face. More than any of that, he longed to see them.

    What strange benefactor had chosen him and plucked him into the sky to dance among the twinkling stars?

    Glancing down at the world so far below, he could no longer make out the shape of his ship or the glassy reflection of the stars in the ocean.

    Would he ever see his friends again? He’d heard stories of heroes who followed the wrong path and ended up trapped on the moon in the service of the Argent Throne. 

    He didn't know, neither did he care, how he felt about that in this blissful moment in the sky. He wanted a life of adventure, and what greater adventure could there be?

    Heroes of legend parlayed with the guards on high, not sailors from the archipelago. Never had he imagined such splendor being granted upon him.

    All things come with a price attached, a favor to repay, or an experience that can never be taken back. He didn't know what he would have to pay for the grand adventure of running across the sky, but he was sure that he would pay it gladly when the bill came due.

    He only hoped that when this adventure was over, he could tell his friends everything about what had happened. After all, what good is an adventure if no one ever heard the tale of it?

    The stars grew brighter, casting out the darkness of the night sky. Everything glittered with a silver sheen. The air was crisp, like after a freshly fallen snow. His breath sparkled in the cold light. He couldn't tell if he was moving anymore.

    Shadows broke the light up into bas-reliefs depicting battles against the great demons of the night. Proud Warriors of every gender used swords, bows, and spears just straight down the cloaked menaces.

    Bas turned.

    The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on floated before him.

    The moon maiden’s silver-white skin glowed with the light of the moon. Silver lilies adorned the comb holding her white hair up. Her silky dress hung from her body and her arms like a gentle spring breeze.

    “Sevashton Worldwhole,” she said in her heavily accented voice. “I choose you to be my champion in this world.”

    “What do you mean?” Bas asked.

    With a tender smile, she replied, “you are my Palatine, my champion. Of all the people of Nalea, I have chosen you to carry my banner into the world. My power is yours. All you have to do is stand against the darkness that hungers to devour this world.”

    Bas smiled. “Why, out of all those people, have you chosen me?”

    The moon maiden gave him an appraising look and giggled. “Because I have chosen you.”

    She spoke with such a gentle finality it would have been an insult to question her further.

    He’d always longed for adventure. The thought of all the things he could do as the chosen one of a moon maiden clouded his mind. "Of course I accept."

    She waved her hand at him, and the light shone from her heart into his body.

    He shivered. It was so hard not to collapse to the ground. Even if he allowed his knees to let go, he would float in front of her as her power surged into him.

    Shuttering, he peered down to see himself kneeling before her. His image growing fainter and fainter as it dissolved into the light.

    His skin grew so cold, but he could no longer shiver. The previous lightness was heavy under the weight of all this new power.

    He screamed.

    His heart grew cold.

    He didn't understand what was happening, but the one thing that was certain, his old life was over. It faded away with the image merging into the light.

    He smiled and beheld the world around him as if he were the moon in the sky.

    The sky opened up beneath him, and he descended back to the deck of the ship as his hair faded to silvery white and his eyes shone like the moon.

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After a week on the sea, the song persisted among the crew. Maeve hummed and even sang it as she went about her work. Fortunately, the dreams didn't return. She hoped it was the remains of their encounter with a sea spirit and not that they had angered or merely attracted the attention of one.

    The sea was preternaturally still. It stretched smooth as glass as far as the eye could see. The wind continued to carry them toward their target in a steady flow. 

    Harley called down from the crow’s nest. On the far horizon, a Daskensian patrol ship loomed into view.

    Maeve pulled out her spyglass and scanned the distance to find a solitary ship flying the lavender and blue Daskensian flag with the stylized fire lily in opposite corners.

    Jade pounded his fist into his hand. “We should sink them before they report our location.”

    “We can take out a single ship,” Bas said.

    Crane said, "the wise choose when to fight while fools rush to their death." 

    Maeve stepped over to the wheel. “It is better to not be seen.” She turned them away from their direct course to avoid the ship.

    Harley shouted down at them, “There is a second Daskensian ship turning in our direction. We may have been seen.”

    Maeve checked the map and altered their course to head towards a series of atolls. As a smaller ship, they should be able to navigate better than their pursuer.

    Harley calls out the bearing of the Daskensian ship and their rough distance.

    If the pursuer caught them, their maneuverability would give them the advantage. She wouldn’t risk their hull if she didn’t have to.

    As they approached the atolls, Jade called out for them to turn.

    Tall, thin trees with yellow, orange, and red leaves covered one atoll. Upon closer examination, they moved contrary to the wind.

    Maeve’s blood froze.

    Those weren’t trees. A grove of autumn angels roosted on the atoll on their long migration. If they disturbed them, they would lose their sails to the beast’s claws.

    When she was a child, their ship roused the anger of a grove of autumn angels. While defending their young, they will take out anything they perceive as a threat.

    They didn’t just shred the sails but snapped the masts off the ship. It took them months to limp to a harbor for repairs and they were lucky they had enough food to ration until they made it to the berth.

    Since the sea remained preternaturally calm, the wave sounds from the ship would stand out against the silence. She steered away from the atoll and hoped the autumn angels didn’t see them. 

    Bas whispered to her, “change course back. We should be able to sneak past the autumn angels if we make very little sound. There is no way Daskensian ship will know what that grove is or that they have to silence their entire crew.”

    Maeve looked into his eyes and nodded. Invaders had so much disdain for the locals they rarely knew anything about them. It was a risky strategy, but a good one.

    She made the hand signs for silence.

    Maeve steered the ship back towards the atolls.

    The Buttercup cut through the glassy sea towards the grove of autumn angels.

    They passed so close to the atoll. The angel’s long, avian heads held tight against their chests. Long, sharp teeth framed their slim beaks. The sun caught their saber-like claws, rising from the ground like treacherous blades of ivory grass.

    Maeve signaled to the phantoms to cut the sails, to slow them down so the Daskensian ship could catch up to them. The more tempting a target she made them, the more likely they would be to fall into the trap. 

    A rumbling hush from the angels’ breaths thrummed with an uneven and mixed beat. The smell of fermenting fish pulsed through the air in rhythm with their breath. Occasional thrills and calls broke through the seething grove.

    A weighty stench from their guano hung in the air. Maeve resisted turning from it and avoid the smell and the danger, but the pursuing ships weren’t close enough yet.

    She had little margin for error. If she allowed their pursuer to get too close, the Buttercup would shatter under a volley of cannon fire, and if they couldn't escape fast enough, they would be torn apart by the autumn angels when they were roused from their slumber.

    Bas and Jade stared anxiously at her but said nothing.

    Maeve had no reason to believe this plan would work. Something in her gut told her it was the right thing to do. She prayed she wasn't wrong. After she whispered the soft prayer into the universe, she addressed it to none of the gods whose names she knew. With any luck, one of them heard and would answer.

    Her knees quivered beneath her, and she repeatedly glanced back to gauge the distance between their ship and their pursuer. She counted the distance as a hoarse addendum to her prayer.

    She made the sign to the phantoms to quickly raise the sails. As they grabbed the ropes, she turned the wheel away from the atoll.

    The Daskensian fired on them. Deep, booming thuds rang out against the hissing rush of the autumn angels breathing. The thunder of the cannons awakened the autumn angels.

    Screeching cries broke from what only a moment ago resembled a grove of trees ready to shed their foliage as the beasts quickened.

    Cannon shot splashed into the ocean behind them.

    Maeve rested her hand on the hilt of a sword poking out from a scabbard on her belt. If the autumn angels turned on them, she had a little hope of fending them off, but she wouldn't accept defeat without a damn good try.

    The autumn angels leaped into the air and flapped their enormous wings. 

    Their ship rocked from the torrent of wind blown down from the grove as it took flight.

    The angels encircled both ships in a widening gyre, screeching the threats in a deafening tumult.

    Maeve signaled to the crew to monitor the beasts. If even one of them rooted into the hull, the ship could go down.

    A detachment of angels swooped down at the Buttercup. Their vicious claws and terrifying tooth beaks shattered the phantom crew like glass.

    Maeve drew her blade and parried the claws of one angel as it dove for the ship's wheel.

    Harley leaped from the crow’s nest, a dark blade in each hand, and spun like a top toward the deck. Shadows matching the curve of her twin swords flew from her as she drifted slowly down.

    The shadows cut deep gashes into the flesh of the autumn angels.

    Calling out in pain, the injured beasts retreated to the cloud of terror looming overhead.

    Maeve took a deep breath and focused her energy into her body, which lightened as the aether flowed into it. Running into the air, she charged at the monsters threatening her ship.

    Maeve ducked and dodged between the angels, lashing out with her blade, hoping to make their ship the less appealing target.

    Glancing back, the boarding ramp descended from the Daskensian ship.

    They couldn't fight off both sets of attackers, so she focused on the autumn angels. At that moment, they were the biggest threat. The invaders would take them prisoner, the angels would kill them.

    Maeve struck at the angels, one after another meeting the vicious end of her sword. She rounded behind them, still hoping to herd them towards the enemy vessel.

    Jade held his own against the invaders, and Crane joined her, running through the air, striking the angels.

    Bas fought by Jade’s side, holding the invaders off as best he could.

    Crane and Maeve danced between the angels, striking them like angry hornets roused from their nest. They poked and slashed with their blades, being more of a nuisance than a threat to the creatures.

    Slowly, the maelstrom of winged death moved and constricted until it surrounded the Daskensian ship.

    As she hoped, the Daskensians fired their cannons into the Grove.

    The cannonballs moved slow enough that most of the other angels glided past them. The roar of the cannons attracted their attention, and the grove flocked on the invaders’ ship.

Maeve landed on the deck of the Buttercup and rose into a guarded posture.

    Most of the autumn angels had stopped harassing their ship, but the boarding party pressed their perceived advantage in numbers.

    Only a few sailors stood between her and the hatch down into the ship’s hold where Gomruth hunted nautilus crabs.

    Maeve anchored her feet to the deck, so that with each step they could not knock her back and charged the hatch. She caught the first enemy sailor off guard and knocked him off his feet. The second, she parried his blade and turned around, continuing her march to the hatch.

    The third she kicked in the chest, knocking him back and away from the door.

    In a single motion, she dipped down, caught the handle to the hatch, and flipped over, throwing it open.

    Maeve jumped away from the hatch as Gomruth bounded up the steps onto the deck. He released a gurgling roar.

    The enemy sailors turned on Gomruth. A couple of them turned and ran back to the boarding ramp.

    Dreamclaw, Jade’s sharkhound familiar, ran up beside the Ulaan and roared like a ferocious, resonant whistle. 

    Gomruth and Dream rushed the sailors with their razor-sharp teeth bared.

    Jade joined them and rushed the invaders with Crane on his shoulder, firing fire stones from his slingshot.

    Maeve laughed as the morale of the Daskensian troops broke. Fear twisted their faces, and their hands shook.

    Harley ran up to her side, and together they charged the boarding party.

    The sailors ran back toward the boarding ramp as the crushing shrieks of the autumn angels called out from behind them.

    Somewhere on the Daskensian ship, a retreat call sounded from a loud horn.

    The boarding party ran back to their ship.

    On the Daskensian frigate, autumn angels landed on the deck and shot roots from their feet into the deck.

    Splinters flew into the air as the angels dug in.

    Maeve rushed over to the wheel, unlocked the ship’s key, and reinserted it. As she turned the key, the phantasmal crew reappeared, and she shouted orders to rig the sails for top speed.

    She turned the wheel to steer away from the atoll and the burning hulk of the Daskensian ship.

    For a moment, a strange glow around the Daskensian ship shone from the water. Feint tendrils of light raked the sides of the ship.

    Maeve stopped. When had she started humming the strange song from her dream? How long had she hummed the tune?

    Jade, Crane, Bas, and Harley still hummed the odd melody.

    “Everyone to your posts,” Maeve said, breaking them out of their trance.

    Maeve crossed her arms and watched the autumn angels decimate the Daskensian ship and wondered if they had earned the favor of some water spirit.

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Maeve pressed the map she received from Garland on the table and slid the sheet of breathsteel over it. Their target was in the southeast corner of the archipelago. It was far from the fire isles. She wouldn’t have to see the remnants of her home. Garland clearly marked the Chapel of Oanh on the western shore of Clarestone Enclave but didn’t provide any specifics about the shrine or the crypt thought to contain the arc. 

    The sun warmed her dark skin. Few clouds marred the azure sky. Sunlight reflected from the honey brown wood of the quarterdeck, surrounding her within a halo of warmth. Maeve smiled as Jade and Bas loaded their supplies onto the ship.

    Harley sauntered up to her and ran her fingers over the map. “Fairies tugging at your gut yet?”

    Maeve rubbed her stomach. “The seiryu may have set up a warren in there.” She laughed, imagining a flock of the seahorse-like fairy dragons fluttering around in her abdomen on their butterfly-like wings.

    Harley grinned and said, “setting out is always worse than any peril along the way. I hate anticipating all the things that could happen.”

    Maeve nodded. 

    Garland sauntered up the gangway, onto the ship. 

    After excusing herself, she went down to greet him.

    Garland’s fine suit sparkled in the bright sun like the surface of a pristine pond. He didn’t belong on a vessel of this caliber. One day, the Buttercup would shine like a pearl on the ocean.

    He handed her a folio of papers with that broad, overly friendly smile. “This is a sketch of the ark. I also included information about it and the crypt in which it is stored. I wish we had more to give you.”

    “So do I,” Maeve said politely. “But it will have to be enough.”

    Garland nodded and cast an eye over Bas.

    “Is something wrong?” Maeve asked.

    “Not at all,” Garland responded. “I am sure you and your crew will do just fine. I don’t want to keep you. May the winds be at your back and the sun in the eyes of your enemies.”

    “And yours,” Maeve said, masking her surprise as he used the old windjammer’s farewell.

    Maeve didn’t take her gaze off Garland as he disembarked from the ship. He furtively glanced toward Bas repeatedly. Why was he so interested in her crewmate? She returned to the quarterdeck and tapped the folio on her hand.

    “What was all that about?” Harley asked.

    “Garland was just giving us the rest of their intelligence on the arc and the island.”

    “I meant the way he looked at Bas. It was like he expected to see someone else and was surprised by him.”

    Maeve straightened up. “You’re right.”

    Maeve opened the folio and flipped through the papers. Several contained a vague warning about a grave threat that sank ships and took all lives that fell under its gaze. An endless list of perils raced through her mind. 

    She mentioned it to Harley.

    “That doesn’t bode well,” Harley said. “Could there be wyverns around the island?”

    “Others would have seen them flying around. That wouldn’t be such a mystery.” Maeve turned southeast toward the mouth of the harbor. Beyond the wave breaker, her nerves always calmed. What haunted the waters between them and their target? “If they had a patrol fleet destroying ships that didn’t fly the right signals, there wouldn’t be enough survivors to report back.”

    “Sailors’ gossip.” Harley giggled darkly. “If it were a ship, we would know.”

Once they stowed everything in the hold, Maeve walked through the Buttercup to ensure nothing was out of place. She loved the Buttercup and her crew—her friends—with all her heart. They were her family, and she would do anything for them. She stood on the quarterdeck, just out of notice. They laughed and told jokes. They needed to blow off steam before they embarked, so she went to her cabin and worked through her concerns in peace. There was no reason to interrupt their fun.

The next morning the wind was favorable and the sky clear. According to the weather witch report she purchased, this was the time to set out. While she didn't believe in omens, she made herself see it as a good sign. Whatever it took to avoid storms was worth the price.

    Standing before the wheel on the quarterdeck, she pulled a disk resembling an ornate brass pocket watch from her waistcoat pocket and clicked the pin on the top.

    Silver and steel spikes shot out from cardinal compass points and smaller golden pins halfway in between them.

    This windjammer key was a gift from her mother. She set the key into an inset cut into the center of the wheel and turned it clockwise. 

    Phantasmal forms of sailors bled out of the aether into sight, and she shouted orders to set sail for Clarestone Enclave.

    The phantoms raised the sails and performed most of the menial tasks aboard the ship, leaving the skeleton crew to keep them on target. Without the key, they would have needed a larger company than they could afford.

    They left the harbor at Duskmere. The seas were calm despite the wind.

    A couple of hours out of port, Maeve pulled out her spyglass and searched the horizon. There were no other ships in sight.

    At dinner, Crane mentioned the lack of ships and they talked about the strange absence of trade.

    Another day passed without the slightest hint of a ship. Where were all the other ships? They should have come across patrols from the isles. The admiralty court sent out patrols regularly and it wouldn’t be strange to encounter a Daskensian scout this far north. 

    Maybe the calm waters were an omen after all.

    At around sunset on their third day out to sea, Jade walked up to Maeve with his arms crossed, rubbing his elbows.

    “Something isn’t right,” he said. “I know that’s obvious, but I can feel it. My gills are tingling. They never tingle.”

    “When was the last time you poured water over them?” Maeve asked.

    “I am not a pup anymore.” Jade narrowed his small black eyes and crinkled the skin on his pointed snout. “They aren’t dry, it’s like they are moving. You know how your ears ring after you hear a loud noise? It’s like they are ringing, but I don’t know of anything capable of making them do that.”

    “So they’ve never done this before?” 

    Jade shook his head. “It’s annoying, like an itch you can’t reach right between your shoulder blades, except I don’t know what would scratch them or soothe them.”

    “Do you think whatever is keeping the sea so calm might cause it?” Maeve asked.

    “I can’t think of another explanation. I don’t feel sick, and according to the medical ghost, I am fine, if you can trust him.”

    Maeve laughed. “Do you want to turn back?”

    “No. I just thought you should know.”

That night, Maeve dreamed of the beach where the Buttercup ran aground when they found it. The ship wasn’t there, but the large anchor stones remained.

    A strange woman with skin like sapphire and hair like lapis lazuli sat atop a stone crooning a song softly to herself. Her hair flowed in the breeze like water down a gentle fall in a stream.

    The song was in a language Maeve didn't recognize. Its vowels stretched out into long arias, broking sparingly for consonants or breaths. 

    Each note resonated within her chest, and her entire body vibrated from the music. Danger filled each intonation. The woman wailed as if she were in pain.

    The melody itself warned her to stay away from the woman, to turn back and to leave. 

    Doom filled the air and whispered threats under the melody like its own harmony, promising destruction to anyone who didn’t heed the warning.

    It grabbed her, catching in her throat like a word that would choke her if she didn’t say them. Life leaked from her body, like her soul threatened to bleed from her and leave her as less than a dry husk.

    She started awake in her bed, unsure if it was the memory or the song itself still ringing in her ears.

    Gomruth snuggled his scaly head into her side, and she petted him absentmindedly as she calmed her breathing.

    Maeve couldn’t fall back to sleep. The melody haunted her like a lost song from her childhood. It was so familiar, but it eluded her.

    It wasn’t as if it was a common tune. She’d spent so much time at sea, she hadn’t frequented many bars. Harley’s taste in music differed from its style. The Nimble Eel hadn’t had a band, a minstrel, or even a bard the last several times she visited. She hadn’t been to a concert in longer than she’d admit to herself.

    Dread bloomed in her like strange flowers, basking in the song’s light. No matter what she filled her mind with, the melody persisted.

    Crawling out of bed, she slipped on a pair of sandals and made her way to Harley’s quarters down the hall. A tinkle of glass told her that Harley had just poured herself a drink, so Maeve knocked.

    Harley called out, “enter.”

    Maeve opened the door and walked in to find her sitting on her bed cross-legged, staring into a small glass of whiskey.

    “Bad dream?” Harley asked.

    Maeve hummed the strange melody that lodged itself into her brain.

    Harley hummed along with her. They both assumed the song originated in her music collection, and they spent the rest of the night going through her song crystals, hoping to find it.

    The song wasn’t there.

    As the sun broke over the sea, they went down to the galley for breakfast. Jade and Crane already sat at the table discussing the same song.

    When Bas entered, he asked them what the song was they were humming. 

    “It was in my dream last night.”

    Once they realized none of them could place the song that surfaced in each of their dreams, they started preparing food.

    Jade said, “There are legends of sirens whose songs lured sailors to their deaths. Have you ever heard of one that drives people away?”

    None of them had.

    “What if this might be a sign the monks on Clarestone Enclave know we are coming?” Bas asked. “They may have invoked a spirit against us.”

    They all agreed to be on high alert for signs of supernatural activity.

    Throughout the day, as they sailed into the eerily calm sea, they kept catching themselves humming the tune and then winced when they realized they were doing it.

The next day, as they continued to sail over the glasslike sea, Maeve leaned over the railing a couple of times because something strange moved in the deep.

    Except for the ship’s wake, the water was mirror-smooth. Her shadowed and distorted image peered back at her. The ethereal face from her dreams floated under the surface.

    The face loomed up from the depths like a whale coming up to breathe. It moved alongside them like a reflection from above.

    Maeve glanced at the sky and there was nothing but blue sky overhead, dotted by a few puffy clouds. None of them could have distorted in the water to resemble a face.

    “What are you looking at? Dolphins or flying fish?” Bas asked, walking up next to her.

    “Neither. Remember that woman I told you about from my dreams that sang that thrice-damned song? She was there in the water, just looking up at me like someone might examine fish in a tank.”

    Bas stared into the sea. “I see nothing but us.”

    “Me neither.” Maeve sighed. “Maybe I am under more stress than I knew. When we get back, I am going to a resort to relax for a while.”

    “I’ll join you.” He elbowed her. “I know one that has the most accommodating staff of each and every gender. You won’t be able to not have a good time.”

    Maeve smirked and shook her head. “You know I am not as—”

    “Open, loving, and adventurous as I am?” Bas raised an eyebrow. “I know, but the waters are warm, the drinks intoxicating, and the food is delicious. If you want to partake in further adventures, it is good to know they are available. Besides, we will have enough money to be a little frivolous and still be responsible.”

    “That describes someone I know very well.”

    Maeve stared into the sea and hoped they weren’t being haunted by a sea spirit that meant to do them harm.

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The morning sun burned Bas’ eyes as he left the Prism Keep. He straightened his tunic and waistcoat and pushed the smirk from his face. With a bit of struggle, he suppressed his strut as he stepped onto the cobblestone street. The day before had been a good day. He won their case, allowing them to lay claim on most of the prizes they took on their last voyage.

    He spent hours in Admiralty Court being called Sebastian Woodhull or Mr. Woodhull. The formality tired him. He deserved a night out. A little frivolous fun away from the pressures and responsibilities of the ship refilled his soul. The others weren’t complete screwups. Because he studied the law, they expected him to keep them on the straight and narrow. Sometimes it was good not to have to worry about everyone else.

    When he and Maeve founded the Ocean’s Shadow, he dreamed of a life of adventure and excitement. Since he had the best handwriting, he wrote their salvage request, then their petition for recognition. Over time, he handled all the paperwork for the crew. One pleasure-filled night balanced out a day of mind-numbing boredom.

    His only regret as he walked through the streets of Duskmere was that he hadn’t won them more money. None of the cargo carried a bounty. The court ruled that the Daskensian flag he presented was circumstantial. Maintaining a sailing vessel equipped for the voyages they undertook was expensive. It was barely enough, but it was better than nothing.

    His blood boiled as they reduced their value down to the cezri they brought back with them. Coin counters only cared about one thing after all.

    All too often, the responsibilities fell on his shoulders, but since he had not only won their case, and got their Letter of Marque and Reprisal renewed and expanded, he deserved a treat. He also needed a distraction from the work their extended letter and authority granted them. Their prominence would increase, and that brought with it its own risks and rewards.

    Revelry escaped from the bars and pubs along the street and called him away from the ship. Their sweet song tempted him from his duty, but he walked past them. It wasn’t because he didn't enjoy the sailor’s life, but because he preferred not to play father to the crew. 

    In his absence, Maeve would have gone out to drum up work for them. When he returned, they would have already schemed their way into a trap to talk him into the mission. They would lie in wait to convince him to agree to whatever scheme they had concocted, and it was his duty to weigh it against the charter.

    Bas sighed.

    The Buttercup’s mast loomed high over the dock as one of the few sloops in the harbor. Most of the Duskmere fleet sought their fortunes elsewhere.

    His stomach dropped. He didn’t know what they planned to do to talk him into their latest scheme, but his elation was about to end.

    Crane’s tiny shadow ran across the deck to alert the others of his approach. Since they set a lookout, they definitely had something up their sleeve.

    Bas blew the boarding song on his whistle, and Jade lowered the gangway. 

    As he bounded up the springy walkway, he allowed the swagger he so poorly suppressed to take over his demeanor. He nodded and winked at Jade as he stepped past him. 

    The others waited in the wardroom for him to report in. He wasn't ready to let go of the delirious feeling of victory, so after he walked below deck, he turned toward the private quarters and went to his room. 

    Maeve exited her cabin as his footsteps creaked down the hall to his door. She smiled at him, and he sneered back.

    “How was your night?” she asked. 

    Bas twisted his face into an impish grin and responded, “it was alright. I just need a moment to get myself together.”

    Maeve shook her head. The twinkle in her eye told him she had landed them a lucrative, but dangerous charter she believed she would have to twist his arm into. She probably wasn’t wrong.

    He loved the back and forth between them. She was the dreamer, and he was the responsible one. 

    Bas entered his room and shut the door behind him. Responsibility weighed on him. His shoulders sagged.

    He glanced at his face in the mirror. His mother’s blue eyes and his father’s small nose attracted his attention. He missed them so much. It was his job to ensure nothing bad happened to the ship or the crew. Sorrow reddened the skin around his eyes, almost to the same color as his short hair. He would not break down. The sadness had its time to control him, and that had passed.

    After calming himself down, he tapped the water stone over the basin and washed his face. He emptied his pockets of everything but the letter of marque and the small bag of cezri the admiralty court awarded them.

    He changed out of his heavy waistcoat into something more appropriate for the meeting with the crew, a canvas frock coat.

    Outside his room, Maeve waited for him. She accompanied him down to the wardroom with only the slightest amount of chitchat between them. She rationed her words and used them with such tender care.

    Bas swaggered into the room and tossed the bounty and the revised letter of marque and reprisal onto the table.

    "The Mancai Admiralty Court has granted our petition to keep the spoils of our last voyage and assigned us the right to recruit two more ships to the fleet," Bas said.

    The others hooted and hollered. Jade and Crane pounded on the table, and Harley shook her head disapprovingly at their exuberance. 

    Crane added, “that will come in handy with our next commission.”

    Bas interrupted him and explained in excruciating detail the procedures before the court. He started talking about the additional clauses they included in the Letter of Marque and how their past exploits justified each line and clause.

    Jade rolled his small black eyes. “We are Corsairs, not Pirates. We don’t fight for the Mancai. We stand up for the archipelago.” 

    Crane nodded his head. “Yeah, the Daskensians exploit the islands too often. We need to show they will not mess with us anymore.” 

    Maeve stood up and with abject seriousness said, “if we can retrieve something that has been stolen, we should take it.”

    Bas smirked at their heavy-handed hints about their commission. “In theory, but all of this is moot if we don’t have the supplies to set sail.” Everyone lost loved ones and treasure to the invaders. Unwanted memories arose, and he forced them down. “Since I assume none of you have taken stock or used the sign-out sheets so we’d know what we have left, I need to do the inventory so we can even talk about what we do next.”

    Bas stood up and ignored their protestations as he walked out of the room. It was time for him to be the responsible one again. It distracted him from memories haunting the corners of his mind. He didn’t close the door behind him to not seem angry.

The steps darkened as Bas went down into the ship’s hold. Light crystals cast a golden orange hue among the shelves and crates. Shadows loomed over the corridors and the nautilus crabs scattered at the sound of his footsteps.

    He popped the manifest off the hook and flipped through the usage log. After a quick scan of the page, he sighed. His handwriting covered the sheet with the occasional lines from Maeve. Harley scribbled some sarcastic limericks and rude riddles as well. He ensured the attached pencil was sharp before walking into the stacks to count what they had left.

    Footsteps skittered in the shadows outside his field of view. While heavier than a nautilus crab, they were lighter than any of his fellow crewmates, except for Crane.

    Above his head, behind a crate on the shelf, a triangular shadow rose and dipped back out of sight.

    Bas smiled. 

    The dorsal fin of Dreamclaw, Jade’s sharkhound familiar peaked out from behind another box.

    Bas pretended he saw nothing. He marked the count on the sheet.

    The sharkhound stalked him through the stacks. Boards creaked as the creature, who resembled a cute four-legged sand shark, rocked back and forth on his feet, preparing to strike.

    Bas turned away from the sound. In the wild, he would never do such a thing, but the familiar was playing. He longed to distract himself from the monotony of the count.

    With a gritty roar, the sharkhound leaped from behind a crate of Ebria Rosado and pounced on Bas, knocking him on his back and licking his face.

    Bas laughed, spun around, and tickled the sharkhound’s sides.

    Dream panted a husky chortle.

    Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs, followed by a deep laugh. "I didn't know that this was inventory. I guess that means I do inventory a lot more than you give me credit for." Jade chuckled.

    Bas rolled his eyes and pushed Dream off. 

    The sharkhound scuttled off into the shadows. 

    “Did you come to coerce me into whatever you all are planning?” Bas asked.

    Jade shook his head. “No. I already know you’ve agreed to the commission.”

    “What makes you say that?”

    “You stopped arguing with us and walked away. If you doubted Maeve in the slightest, you would have fought more. You have faith in her. We all do.”

    “We need to be careful.” Bas stood and picked up the manifest. “The more prominent we become, the more attention we bring to ourselves. We aren’t ready to deal with some interests out there that wish to take advantage of cultivators who aren’t on their toes.”

    “Who would want to take advantage of us? We don’t even have a full crew complement.”

    “But we have skills others will choose to twist to their own profit.”

    Jade clicked his tongue. “Then we need to be careful. Here, let me help you count.”

While they finished the inventory, Bas and Jade talked about establishing a fleet and securing a future for themselves and the archipelago. 

    “Why didn’t you join a more established Sect?” Bas asked.

    “Where is the fun in that?” Jade said. “I need my name to mean something. I don’t want to just be a tool in the hands of some remote grandmaster building their own legend. I prefer my own story to be told. Why didn’t you and Maeve join the sect you were born into?”

    “We discussed it, but in the end, we wanted to have something of our own.”

    “No master, no kings,” Jade said solemnly.

    “Never to bend a knee or pretend someone is our better.”

    “That's why we have to go on this raid,” Jade said.

    Bas rolled his eyes.

    Garland should have given them more information about the target. Nothing in the Letter of Marque sanctioned or prevented them from such an assault, and since they weren't keeping the cargo, but repatriating it to its rightful owners, they wouldn't have to take the case before the admiralty court.

    That simplified things. Such an incursion would bring them more notoriety than they were ready for.

    The Daskensians stole so much. They killed so many. They forced so many more into slavery. If they helped one group, others would expect their help too.

    They didn’t have the power to take care of everyone and everything. Perhaps they could save enough.

    What did that even mean? How could he amortize the cost of a life? Treasure had a value assigned to it, but it never counted the emotional trauma. It wasn’t their place to decide who lived and who died, much less who suffered forever in bonds of slavery.

    If they were unable to help someone, did it make it their fault they continued to suffer? Logically, the answer was no, but his heart wasn’t as rational as he led people to believe.

    His spirit wouldn’t grow cold to the suffering of his fellows. He watched his parents change over time to where they cared more about cultivating their crafts and garnering the funds to continue their work. What was the point of the arts if they didn’t help others?

    “You’ve been oddly quiet,” Jade said after reporting his next set of numbers.

    “Just thinking too much about the future, I suppose.” He knew the question hidden in Jade’s words. “I need to stop worrying so much.” Bas said, “don’t worry. I won’t stand in the way. If you all think we should go on the raid, you have my vote.”

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Ice clinked into the bottom of the yellowed glass, then hissed and cracked as the Ashanaer Whiskey flowed over it. Maeve nodded at Lou, her favorite bartender at the Nimble Eel. She added a few cezri to the cost of the drink to ensure he would send any prospective clients her way.

    She took a sip and glanced around the bar. Its spicy peat scent relaxed her muscles as the liquor peppered her mouth and burned her throat.

    A warm gloom huddled close to the lamplights and candles, lending a golden hue to the grayed timber covering the walls and the ceiling. The aging glass in the windows hung low in the panes, its exterior frosted from the sand and salt in the wind tapping on it over the years.

    She sat in the rear of the bar and pinned her long black hair behind her ears. The wood creaked a lazy sigh as she leaned back. This table suited her purposes well. It was private enough to conduct business, and the light from the nearby wall sconce cast a golden shine on her deep brown skin, almost making her glow. She needed to attract attention, and with any luck, a well-paying client.

    Maeve was one of the few human uhraids in the bar. People of every shape and size sat at the tables. Many of them needed booster seats to reach the tabletops. Some weren’t even people. Spirits who didn’t shun the company of the living mixed with the others. They were all windjammers. Their faces were drawn and haggard. Like her, they struggled to keep their ships on the sea and their crews fed. They didn’t have a patron, nor were they a large guild. So, she spent most of her free time on the lookout for clients. Their vessel didn’t possess the armaments necessary to take on a Daskensian ship on their own. The others shared their stories about their encounters with the invaders. She and Bas did the math. They only needed a couple of cargo runs. They should have the funds to arm the sloop enough to raid the smaller flotillas.

    Ever since the Daskensian blockade of the archipelago, corsairs established their names and fortunes from such raids. Danger always patrolled the sea in the best of times, but adding enemy warships to the mix made earning a living increasingly difficult. 

    As the night stretched on, Maeve overheard the people at the next table discussing the repairs they needed for their ship after running into a Daskensian flotilla. That is why she didn’t take escort missions. Few possessed the wealth to afford such a risk. Even fewer gave up the cezri to pay for it.

    Unlike the others in her crew, she didn’t crave adventure, fame, and glory. She would never express this aloud. None of her compatriots would tolerate such blasphemy in her world. The sea was home, but a secure living and safety eluded them. Those two did not live comfortably together.

    Safety and prosperity eluded them so long as the Daskensians pushed north. She wasn’t a warrior but leaving the archipelago wasn’t an option. What other choice did she have?

    Regulars filled the Nimble Eel, which made the prospects of obtaining a client slim. As she sat at her table, she sipped her Ashanaer Whiskey in a way she hoped gave the impression she had far fewer cares and concerns than what was washing through her mind.

    After Maeve started her second drink, a stranger walked into the bar dressed in the finest Proitanian clothes, a black frock coat composed of such fine fabric it glistened with a golden sheen. He wore a matching vest and trousers, with distinct, military-style, metal-clad boots. His bright yellow shirt made his white skin paler and rosier than it actually was. It was rare to see someone clothed in such finery without a cadre of bodyguards, which showed either his confidence or naïveté. 

    He glanced around the room like a stellar hawk seeking its prey before walking up to her table as if they had an appointment he was late for. Why did he act like he recognized her? She had never met him before and they weren’t the most profitable corsairs on the seas, though they kept their head above water. 

    Maeve glanced up at him from her whiskey, nodded, and returned her gaze to the ice in her cup.

    The stranger chuckled, and said, “my name is Garland Magrath, and I have a job for you.” His velvety voice told her he expected her to recognize either his name or that of his family.

    The wealthy always believed the world revolved around them. They never neglected an opportunity to make that true. He spoke with a Proitanian accent, so he was most likely a merchant or spy for the royal court. Either way, he was an ally against the Daskensians, who posed a threat to his native land’s naval empire.

    Maeve nodded at the seat across from her and waited for him to sit down before she spoke. “What makes you think I’m looking for work?”

    He smiled like a saber cat spotting its prey. “You are Maeve Anne Lambourne, one founder of the Ocean’s Shadow. I am assured you and your crew have the skills necessary to serve me.”

    “Depends on the task,” she said with little emotion. Gambling wasn’t her strong suit. Which of their former clients would have referred him to them without notifying her first?

    “I need you to help me repatriate an artifact stolen by the Mefri and return it to the Nofraan where it belongs.”

    The Mefri were collaborators with the Daskensians, allowing them to set up colonies and strongholds in their territory. The Nofraan populated one of the many islands in the archipelago.

    “What is the artifact?” Maeve asked. 

    Garland glanced at the bar. He raised his hand in a half-hearted attempt to garner their attention, but his heart wasn’t in it. The motion was too rehearsed and perfect. His eyes drooped at the correct moment, and his shoulders wilted just enough. He returned his attention to her and wiped the disappointment from his face. She tracked his mannerisms closer to see if he tried to fool her in other ways. 

    “Nothing of real monetary value,” he said, glancing from her face to the table. Sorrow and worry flashed in his eyes to draw her interest. “It is a reliquary, an ark that means a lot to the Nofraan people. I am authorized to offer you 10,000 cezri to fund the expedition and a further 10,000 cezri for the relic.”

    The way he said authorized bothered her. It stood out like a bonfire on a moonless night. It was a strange thing to lie about. She almost missed it when he mentioned the amount of money he would pay to retrieve the ark.

    Before she responded, Garland added, “the relic is in the crypt of the Chapel of Oanh, on the Clarestone Enclave.”

    Maeve rolled her eyes. Oanh was the deity of locked doors. There really was a god for everything, but it made sense to invoke them to protect looted treasure. Perhaps she should build an altar for him on the ship.

    She never raided a monastery before. What if they injured a monk minding their own business? 20,000 cezri was a lot of money, but it wouldn’t make up for an angry deity seeking revenge. 

    As Garland told her how the Nofraans lost their identity after the theft of their sacred ark, she balled up her fists under the table. If gods could be slain, the deity that cursed her homeland would have died long ago, and her life would have taken a strange path. After the volcano on Valris Isle drove them from their homes, it never stopped erupting, creating the burning islands in the southern archipelago. Since the island didn’t grow, some preternatural force caused the destruction.

    After sharing a Mancai Ale with Garland as they discussed the plight of the Nofraans, she agreed to discuss the matter with the crew and expected them to agree to help. Once they reached a consensus, they would set sail in a week.

    Garland handed her a pouch with the first payment and a map. “Prepare to set sail when you have consensus.” He stood up and bowed. “I will bring you everything we have on the crypt and the ark in a couple of days.” He flashed a smile and walked away before she responded.

    Maeve shook her head. She had rarely met such a confident person. The affectations suggested his power was beyond question. She picked up the pouch of coins. Sebastian might not agree to the mission. She sighed. Harley would trust her, but Bas would need more convincing. If she convinced Iron Crane and Jade Crescent, then they would help her convince him. After all, this was the first time they risked the wrath of a deity.

After downing a Dire Arrow shot at the bar, Maeve relished the warm sensations rippling through her body as she celebrated landing such a large commission.

    The brisk salt air tingled her skin as she exited the Nimble Eel to head back to the dock. Duskmere was a charming town where cultivators, windjammers, and pirates mixed and mingled. Fights were common, but rarely to the death. She kept her money concealed in a hidden pocket in her waistcoat to keep it out of the hands of thieves.

    The sharp, swept roofs curled against the wind to deflect the storms from tearing into them. The wood, brick, and even the stone were bleached white by the relentless, salty breeze from the sea. On the rare still nights like this night, a dense fog marched off the ocean into town. The ocean forbade them to forget its dominance for a minute or they might presume they controlled their lives that the winds and the waves might take from them at any moment.

    Maeve smiled to herself as she walked past the name gilded on the side of the ship. OSV Buttercup. Through hard work and a pristine reputation, the Mancai extended their charter as a sailing fleet even though they only had one sloop.

    The vessel had seen better and worse days. Maeve rebuilt it from a wreck, marooned on the shore in Cape Lagmourne with Bas and Harley, and claimed the ship as their first salvage. With their salvage warrant, they filed for recognition of their fleet.

    “The Ocean’s Shadow Vessel Buttercup,” she whispered under her breath like a prayer. She loved that a name as silly as Buttercup would one day send fear through her enemies and others who might consider doing her harm. The name fit her and her crew well, a delicate flower backed by weaponry capable of grinding almost any target to dust. With money from this commission, she could supply the cannons that would allow them to become a genuine power in the archipelago.

    With further commissions like this, she could upgrade to an airship so the fleet might live up to its name. “The ocean’s shadow flies above us and guides us with her winds. The ocean’s soul embraces us as we sail until the end.” She whispered the old lullaby with a smile. The memory of her mother’s voice rang in her mind.

    As she came up alongside the ship, she pulled her signal whistle from her inner pocket and played the boarding song.

    The imposing, sharklike silhouette of Jade Crescent peered over the side. The dorsal fin on his neck blocked out the stars behind him. He was a Sadath born with a sharkhound familiar. He stood so tall compared to his familiar Dreamclaw, who wasn’t a large creature. Normally, the Sadath mirrored their familiar’s size as a biped, but she never asked. His imposing stature and strength were a boon to the crew.

    Jade lowered the gangway for her to get aboard and smiled at her as she walked past him. To anyone who didn't know him, his sharp, triangular teeth and broad smile inspired fear. His silvery gold skin and white chin and chest mirrored that of his sharkhound. 

    Her pet Ulaan, Gomruth, ran up to greet her. He resembled a short, stocky red crocodile with an enormous draconic head that made up most of his body. She petted him on the snout, and he ran off into the gloom to continue his patrol of the deck.

    Jade asked her how the night went. 

    Maeve wrinkled her forehead and cocked her head to the side. With a sigh, she helped him pull the gangway back up.

    After securing the rope, she walked away. Through the door under the quarterdeck, she glanced toward her quarters before turning the other way.

    When she walked into the wardroom, the small nephrear, Iron Crane sat at the table shuffling a deck of cards. He resembled a doll carved out of a large, tan squash dressed up in a white shirt and dark gray denim pants, whose face was carved with great care. 

    He glanced up at her with a wry smile. “You look like you’ve had a couple shots. I take it we have a new employer?” 

    Maeve nodded. “Are you casting Oracles or getting ready for a game of Tricky Knights?” 

    “Don’t change the subject. Spill it. What is the job?” 

    Maeve sat across from Iron Crane at the table. 

    “You know she won’t talk until everyone is in here,” Harley said from the door. “Darling Maeve, do you really think Crane even cares about the future?” 

    Harley resembled a member of an enigmatic doom band with her long black hair and black vest and denim jeans. Her pale pallor and the chains were marks of a Shade Duelist. 

    Maeve shook her head. “I was just trying to be—“ 

    “Polite?” Harley raised an eyebrow. “You were trying to fill the air with sound that meant nothing but to distract us from the terminal waiting on Jade to get here.” She laughed and sat down. 

    “That’s me. The person who talks too much and can’t stand the silence.” 

    Neither Maeve nor Harley said another word. Instead, they made subtle faces at each other like children at a solemn observance trying to play without invoking the wrath of their parents. 

    Crane shuffled the cards and hummed a song from his homeland, a bittersweet melody that only added to the atmosphere. 

    After Jade arrived with Dream at his heels and took their seat, Maeve said, “I am going to be blunt. Garland Magrath approached us to raid a monastery in Daskensian territory to retrieve an ark that was stolen from the archipelago.”    

    Crane chortled, “Bas will never agree to a raid on a monastery.” 

    Jade nodded his head. “He might be sympathetic to the cause, but it probably won’t be enough to convince him.”

    Harley laughed. “Maybe if we just say it is a heist, he will agree.”

    “We will not manipulate or trick him,” Maeve said. “He will probably agree just because it is in Daskensian territory.”

Bas managed the legal affairs of the crew and their relationship with the local authorities. He understood the rules better than the rest of them.

    “The ship’s charter is clear,” Harley said. “All jobs have to be agreed on unanimously. If he says no, it is over.”

    “How often has he quashed a job?” Jade asked as he steepled his hands and leaned back in his chair.

    “Especially one with such cultural significance. Did you get a good description of the target?” Crane asked.

    Maeve wobbled her head back and forth on her shoulders. “Maybe. It is an ark, a reliquary that means a lot to the Nofraans. Garland is going to deliver more information to us in a couple of days.”

    “Is it the body of a saint or something else?” Jade asked.

    “He didn’t say,” Maeve said. “I don’t think that would make that much difference. That they keep it at the Chapel of Oanh will matter a lot more.”

    “But he doesn’t have a devotion to Oanh,” Harley said.

    “Yeah,” Jade grunted, “But he will see them as possible innocent bystanders.”

    Crane crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. He smiled so hard his eyes closed into tight slits. He joined the crew only a couple of months prior. Before that, he lived in the landlocked grove of Feyhollow.

    Maeve refused to talk down to him. He hadn’t experienced enough life at the ocean’s mercy. Bas and Maeve grew up together on the Glimmercrest and lived on the sea their entire life.

    “Don’t do anything sneaky or underhanded,” Maeve said flatly, so as not to call him out.

    “Define sneaky.” Harley smirked.

    Jade and Crane laughed.

    Maeve recognized the familiar signs of mischief brewing. Many became sailors to escape the responsibilities and duties of the landlocked alternative. After a few voyages, they returned home disillusioned. Harley grew up on the Glimmercrest. She relied on mischief to ease her boredom.

    “I mean, we are going to be honest with him,” Maeve said, “because all the arguments we can imagine him making are valid, even if we don’t agree.”

    “We don’t want to offend the gods,” Jade said solemnly. “It takes forever to appease them. Oanh is a particular problem for the crooked-handed.” He dramatically raised his arm even with his head and rocked his hand to the left. His round black eyes framed the act with a doom-laden air. “He has been known to, uh, bless the locks on everything we deal with. I would like to not offend him if it were possible.”

    Crane nodded his head. “Fine. I won’t do anything sneaky or underhanded.”

    “Good, we will win on the merit,” Maeve said, concerned about the potential ramifications of offending the god. “Is there any way we could preemptively appease Oanh before we set sail?”

    Jade stroked the thin line of his chin. “I could set up an altar and make offerings to them to unlock the doors that we will encounter. I am not sure if they will back our cause, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

    Maeve stopped herself from saying *how much is that going to cost?* If they could get a deity on their side, it would be of great value to them. “If you believe it could be of help, then we should do it.”

    “It would help me cultivate my arts,” Jade said.

    With that one sentence, Jade validated the expenditure in the terms of the ship’s charter. They each practiced their own cultivating art, and the Ocean’s Shadow swore to aid them in their practice.

    Maeve listened to them talk about what it would take to add the statues and tokens to the ship’s chapel and wrote out a list of items they would need.

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The windjammer, Maeve Lambourne, needs to land a new patron in the worst way. Low on supplies and desperately needing the armaments to survive the Daskensian threat, she's willing to take any job. A mysterious stranger offers her a simple task for a huge payout: retrieve a stolen relic. She jumps at what sounds like easy money to refit and restock her ship, then she discovers the easier the job the more it might get them all killed.

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