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“You like it better here than the capital? Or the Western Outposts?” The two other major civilizations in the split Seawatcher territory. The capital, Gaveral, I’d been to. A thriving city of brightly-colored stucco buildings on the southeast coast. Palm trees shadowed every corner of worn white stone, fronds like fingertips stretching to the sky. Canals ran through the land, small bridges dotting the streets to hold it all together.

I’d spent one summer there when we were fourteen, and it was a dream. Perhaps my second favorite territory besides my mountains. And the Western Outposts were said to be comprised of white sand beaches and turquoise waters so clear you could see the fish swimming beneath and the great expanse of coral fields lining the ocean bottom.

This, though, the Cliffs of Brontain, I wasn’t sure I understood.

“Yes,” Ezalia answered. “The others are gorgeous, but this is raw nature at its finest. It’s the kind where you have to really look beneath the surface to find the charm.” The wind whipped around us again, emphasizing her words. She tucked a strand of hair behind an ear lined with coral and sea-green gems matching the ones on her bangles and stitched into her leathers. “Even beautiful things are more rewarding when you work for them.”

Her words struck a chord in me. The views in the mountains were undoubtedly exquisite. The way the sunset reflected off the peaks and the clouds toyed with them, like all of the world’s different entities were living beings greeting each other. How one breath of the clear air, one moment of silence, could still the most riling emotions within me. It was effortless to find the beauty there.

But Damenal, after being ruined and currently being rebuilt, was spectacular. It was easy to get lost in the rubble, but to pick through the calamity, to see the work poured into shops and homes, and the warriors who tirelessly gave every effort—it held an allure that motivated me each day.

“The same can be said of people,” I mused. “Sometimes beauty is buried. It takes a sharper eye to discover it.”

One corner of Ezalia’s lips lifted, and I had a feeling that was what she’d meant all along.

“Come on, let’s start the tour,” she said. “The heart of the village is a bit of a walk.”

Ezalia had been waiting for us on the outskirts of Brontain. A few of her warriors took our horses and packs to the inn she’d cleared out for us for the duration of our stay. The only buildings out here were small weapon sheds and huts for warriors to sleep and bathe in on longer shifts. They all appeared to be made of driftwood, yet somehow stood strong against the battering winds.

Ezalia led me to where the rest of my group was waiting with three Seawatchers. Santorina and Vale stood to the side, speaking in hushed tones as Rina assessed a minor wound Vale had received in training this morning.

Cypherion was in conversation with Seron, Ezalia’s partner; Jezebel and Tolek with the remaining Seawatchers.

Seron held his hand out to me, large and covered in rings matching Ezalia’s bangles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Revered Alabath. Congratulations on the official title.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry it’s taken us this long to be introduced.” The only time Seron was in Damenal since I’d moved there was during the battle when the Seawatchers saved our lives. When I was unconscious.

“As am I, but someone has to remain in the territory to watch over things while my partner dazzles the Rapture.” He placed a hand on Ezalia’s shoulder, and for the first time, the chancellor blushed.

“Dazzles is a word for it.” She smirked, sea-glass eyes shining.

“I’d say it was dazzling when you told Aird off,” Tolek chimed in.

“Oh, I quite liked that.” Jezebel nodded in approval.

“Yes, well, it’s best he’s gone now.” Ezalia’s nose wrinkled at the mention of the former Mindshaper Chancellor. She didn’t know I’d been the one to kill him. Avoiding eye contact, I looked at the two other Seawatchers.

“Oh,” Ezalia blurted, tracking my stare. “These are two of my top-ranking advisors. Chorid specializes in navigation”—she gestured to the man with dirty blond hair braided down his back and green eyes that wrinkled when he smiled—“and Andrenas. They’re an expert in sacred studies.” The tall warrior beside Chorid waved a dark-brown hand and brushed their braids over their shoulder. Each Seawatcher, save Ezalia, had a quiver of arrows across their back. Bows rested against the nearest hut. I didn’t have to look to know Tolek was studying them.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” I said. My eyes went back to the Seawatcher Chancellor, unsure how much I should say.

Understanding my thoughts, Ezalia continued, “These three are the only ones who know why you’re here.”

“She hasn’t told us much,” Chorid added, crossing his arms. His frustrated tone was countered by a gentle grin, like he knew his leader had reasons for keeping pertinent information from him.

“We know you are looking for something that has to do with an Angel?” Andrenas annunciated each word, as if our language wasn’t their first. Tolek perked up at the sound. “And we found?—”

“Why don’t we speak about it once we get to the inn,” Seron said. Were those nerves in his voice?

“Good idea,” Cyph agreed. I tried to catch his eye, but he shook his head.

When we rounded the edge of the hut, though, the concern fled my mind.

“Holy dead Spirits,” Tolek blurted, awe turning his words airy, and I thought he may have stumbled if it wasn’t for the cane in his hand. I realized why Ezalia had wanted to begin our tour here.

“Cannons,” I gasped. Lining the edge of the cliff as if they’d stood there for centuries—which they probably had—was a series of huge iron weapons. Noses pointed to the sea, warriors stationed at each, it was clear what they were for: defending the continent. It was also clear from the easy lean of the Seawatchers against their posts that the weapons were rarely used. Precautions from an era when our coasts were ravaged by enemies.

“By the ever-loving Angels.” Tolek started forward, but I grabbed his wrist.