Page 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

JACE

J ace slowly emerged from sleep, the world around him a soft, warm haze that tempted him to sink back into rest. With effort, he opened his eyes to daylight filtering gently through the cabin. From above, distant voices rose and fell with the rhythm of the sea, mingling with the cries of gulls and the chatter of the crew. Sitting up, he furrowed his brow, taking it all in. He realized he’d slept deeply. He stood and opened the cabin door, blinking as bright light hit him. The heat greeted him like a thick, smothering blanket. The StormBreaker rocked gently beneath him as he climbed the steps to the deck.

The ship was alive with motion and noise—shouts, clattering crates, and the rhythmic stomp of boots against wood. The crew swarmed like ants, moving barrels of water, crates of food, and stowing weapons in preparation for docking.

“As soon as we dock,” Blade said sharply to Javier, tossing him a pouch of coins, “find the harbormaster. We need a new anchor and stronger ropes.”

Jace felt like he’d stepped out of a dream only to find the world had continued without him.

And then he saw her. Above it all, perched on the mast, was Irene.

She moved with an effortless grace as she raised a flag, her long legs steady against the mast. The wind played with her hair. Her back arched slightly as she reached higher, the curve of her body flowing with the wind like she was part of it.

With a fluid motion, Irene tore down the Eldorian flag. The banner fell, swirling in the air before landing at Blade’s feet.

From her perch high above, Irene unfurled a new flag. Against a vibrant green background, red and white roses intertwined around a silver arch—the seal of FlowerGate, a northern region.

She jumped from the mast, landing gracefully on the deck with a thud. “We don’t have a working anchor anymore, so listen carefully,” Irene screamed. “Trim the main sails and secure the sheets! Take in the clewlines on the topsail—we need to slow her down without breaking her apart. Hold the wind steady until I give the signal. Mooring lines go over only when I say, not a breath sooner. And Javier, for all our sakes, hold that damn course!”

Her commands rippled through the crew like waves, and they scattered to their posts. The ship bustled with urgency, each movement synchronized with the rhythm of Irene’s authority.

When she turned to him, her smile was confident. Something within Jace stirred, a rush of excitement.

Irene strode toward him, squinting against the sunlight, her skin glistening faintly with sweat from exertion. Jace ran a hand nervously through his hair, trying to steel himself against her intensity.

She stopped in front of him, her hand landing on his shoulder with a disarming familiarity. Her lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned in close.

“Enjoy the view, your highness. Look around you,” she said, her tone laced with amusement.

She walked away, and he realized he’d been so captivated by her gaze that he hadn’t even noticed the view. Finally, Jace obeyed, turning toward the horizon. A breath of amazement escaped his lips. They were approaching the coast. Ochre cliffs sparkled under the sun, rising above vibrant blue waters. In the warm mist ahead, a bustling harbor emerged. The buildings hugged the coastline, their red-tiled roofs glowing, their walls painted in shades of sand, white, and blue, while others stood boldly in ochre. The bay was alive with color: sails of every hue swayed in the waves, while columns of smoke twisted into the clear sky. The docks teemed with life, figures hauling sacks of grain, jars of olive oil, and bundles of saffron. Voices shouted, carts creaked, and the tang of salt and spice filled the air. Amidst the chaos, Eldorian guards stood like sentinels, their golden armours catching the sun as their sharp eyes scanned the crowd. A shiver of adrenaline ran down Jace’s spine, a thrill he couldn’t contain. He was desperate to set foot on this unknown land. Since childhood, he had devoured tales of wars and legends about this place, of a people with roots deeper than any dynasty. Tulindor. The oldest kingdom in the world lay before him.

He turned his head to the right and realized he wasn’t the only one staring at the coastline on the horizon. Zahra stood slightly behind him, her gaze distant, her eyes shimmering with sadness. Her lips curved into a fragile, nostalgic smile, as though she saw something beyond the rocky hills of Tulindor, memories only she could understand. Jace was almost certain she was about to cry.

He cleared his throat, searching for words. “Is it really…” he began, but Zahra interrupted, a soft smile on her lips.

“Yes… welcome to Tulindor,” she murmured. Then she pointed toward a stone fort perched on a distant hill, its ochre walls stark against the landscape. “See over there, that’s Fort Mogador,” she said, her voice tinged with pride and regret, as the Eldorian flag fluttered above it.

The sadness in her tone was deep and raw, surprising him. She turned to him with a worried glint in her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

Jace, caught off guard, nodded quickly. “I’m fine. I feel… much better.”

Zahra nodded in silence, her gaze fixed once more on the approaching cliffs. A heavy unease settled between them, one Jace couldn’t fully explain. It was as if, in her presence, he carried a guilt he didn’t understand—a dull, insistent weight. He knew, deep down, that it came from the blood in his veins, from the dynasty he represented. He was the face of a power that had ravaged her land, and no words could erase it.

As Zahra turned to leave, he stopped her with an awkward breath. “It’s… it’s beautiful,” he murmured.

She paused, hesitating for a moment, then glanced back. Her eyes filled with a quiet, resigned sadness. “It is… unfortunately,” she said walking away.

Jace turned to Javier, who was busy untying knots in the ropes as Irene had ordered. “Can… can I help?” he asked, his voice hesitant, hoping to be useful, maybe even redeem himself, if only in his own eyes.

Javier raised a mocking eyebrow, a wry smile curling his lips. “No, Your Highness,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Just enjoy the view while you can…”

A low laugh rumbled in his throat as he returned to his work.

Irene stood behind the helm, her posture steady, her focus unshakable as the StormBreaker surged toward Tulindor Harbor. Her voice cut through the roar of the waves and the hum of activity on the deck, sharp, commanding, impossible to ignore.

“Blade, sail!” she barked, her eyes fixed on the horizon, intense and unwavering.

Without hesitation, Blade complied, adjusting the sails to slow the ship’s momentum as it glided toward the bustling harbor.

The golden light of the sun bathed Irene, her olive skin glowing with warmth, every ray casting her in an almost ethereal brilliance. Jace’s breath caught, his throat tightening. His mouth hung open, mesmerized.

She was beautiful—so achingly beautiful that it was impossible to reconcile her with the relentless fury he knew her to be, the unyielding force that could lead her enemies to ruin.

In that moment, bathed in golden light, she seemed to embody everything he had once tried to capture on paper but had never quite been able to grasp. The sunlight brought her curls to life, each strand catching and reflecting the light like tiny threads of bronze.

Jace’s fingers twitched, wishing for his drawing materials. He longed to immortalize this moment—a perfect balance of grace and power.

Suddenly, Hezra bumped into him, clutching a wooden crate filled with colorful fabrics and shawls. She grinned at him, her dark eyes glinting mischievously, and handed him a white shawl.

“Here, I got you the best color!” she teased, laughing softly. Jace took the shawl, his hand clutching the bright white fabric, its coolness contrasting with the beating sun.

“Hold on!” Javier shouted.

A shiver of anticipation ran through the crew as the StormBreaker slowed, its reduced sails flapping in the wind. The hull groaned under the strain, ropes pulled taut as the ship glided across the water. Its momentum ebbed until it finally nudged the dock. The crew released a collective sigh.

Jace rushed to the bow, his gaze sweeping over the harbor. Zahra stood beside him, her chest rising with a deep breath, her eyes glistening.

“Welcome to Tulindor,” she said softly.

Irene descended from the helm, her voice cutting through the moment. “We'll have a moment before the soldiers inspect the ship. If you want to keep your heads on your shoulders, you’ll follow my rules,” she said firmly.

Hezra appeared at Jace’s side, her smile carrying a quiet mischief. She motioned for him to lean in, and he obeyed, confused. With swift precision, she wrapped the shawl around his head, covering everything but his eyes and nose.

Jace arched a brow, baffled. Hezra chuckled and leaned closer, her voice low. “Tulindor is occupied by the Eldorian army… and, well, you’re the prince. We can’t risk them recognizing you.”

A shiver ran down Jace’s spine. He turned his head toward the docks, where the golden armor of Eldorian soldiers gleamed in the sun, their imposing silhouettes patrolling the bustling harbor. Another truth his father had hidden from him.

Irene strode along the deck, inspecting the crew with a sharp eye, her tone unyielding. “Don’t speak to anyone. If talking is unavoidable, Zahra will handle it—this is her home.” She paused, her gaze drilling into each of them. “If a guard stops you, you’ll say we’re merchants from FlowerGate, stopping here on our way to HighBell, where our master awaits us. Understood?”

Hezra wrapped a shawl around her own hair, then handed a blue one to Irene. Blade growled, frustrated by the disguises.

“What are these shawls for?” he muttered irritably.

Irene’s icy stare cut through him, her smile sharp as a blade. “To keep your head from ending up on a pike, you fool,” she snapped. “Unless, of course, you’d like to announce to the entire city that the six most wanted fugitives are here to rob them blind.”

Blade muttered under his breath, looking away, while the rest of the crew exchanged nervous smiles.

Jace, hidden beneath the white shawl, felt the weight of a strange mixture of fear and excitement pressing on his chest.

Irene turned back to them, her expression grim. “Take what you need for the night. We won’t return to the ship until it’s repaired and it’s time to leave Tulindor,” she said.

Lan stood at Jace’s side, his jaw clenched, a flicker of bitter irony in his eyes."Let’s hope nothing falls apart this time." Jace glanced back and noticed Zahra standing slightly behind them, her hands twisting nervously around the shawl at her neck. Her restless gaze wandered toward the harbor and the bustling streets of Tulindor. There was a deep pain in her eyes that he couldn’t ignore. A group of Eldorian soldiers approached, their gold armor gleaming under the harsh sunlight. Irene saw them and turned sharply to her crew, her voice dropping to a cutting whisper. “Stay calm, hold your breath, and remember: we are not here to visit.” With a subtle gesture, she signaled Blade to step off the ship. His face hidden beneath a dark shawl, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he moved to greet the soldiers. Javier handed over a scroll bearing the seal of FlowerGate, with a pouch of coins for the ship.

The soldiers boarded briefly, casting glances across the deck and through the hold. Satisfied, they disembarked and continued toward the next ship. During this tense moment, Jace’s eyes caught Zahra shifting uneasily. Her hands gripped her tunic, her breaths shallow and quick. The sight of the soldiers seemed to awaken something raw in her. Javier stepped beside her, his hand brushing lightly against her back in a soothing motion. Zahra’s breaths slowed under his touch. “When were you last here?” Javier whispered. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, her voice low and hoarse. “When they put me on a ship. It was the day of the Reaping.” She swallowed hard. “They sent me to Eldoria. In exchange, my parents got more rations.” A heavy silence settled between them. Javier seemed ready to respond, perhaps to share his own burden, but Irene’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp and unapologetic. “You won’t have time to see your family,” she said quietly, her tone firm but tinged with something almost like regret. Zahra straightened, forcing a semblance of strength into her posture. “I wouldn’t want them to see me like this anyway,” she replied bitterly. “And I won’t put them in danger.” Irene nodded, her gaze flickering with approval. “Brothers? Sisters?”

“Sisters,” Zahra whispered, her voice barely audible. A shadow crossed her face, a mixture of sadness and defiant pride. Irene made a low “hmm,” before glancing away to check the soldiers’ position. Moments later, Blade returned to the ship, a sign that the crew was clear to disembark.

Hezra fell into step beside Jace. “I hope we have time to go to the market. The fabrics here are incredible. I need at least two dresses,” she muttered with a small, hopeful smile.

One by one, they disembarked, Irene leading the way.

Irene walked fast, and her presence imposed a calm that rippled through the crew. Jace followed slightly behind, his gaze flickering toward the Eldorian soldiers stationed by each ship.

Their golden armour glinted in the sun, a stark reminder of his homeland, yet Jace felt a strange sense of detachment. These men bore the symbol of his kingdom, but the invisible thread that once tied him to them now seemed forever cut.

The thought struck him suddenly: he could call out, cry “Help!” and they would save him in an instant. But as quickly as the idea came, it soured. How many around him would pay the price for his escape? And, worse still, did he even want it all to end?

The crew slipped into the alleys, and the streets of Tulindor unfolded before him like a vibrant tapestry.

The markets were alive with a symphony of colours, scents, and sounds. Stalls piled high with pyramids of saffron, cumin, and cinnamon filled the air with rich, heady aromas. Figs, dates, and olives spilled across tables, nestled beside bundles of dried flowers and shimmering, intricately patterned fabrics.

Seagulls wheeled above small blue boats moored along the docks, their cries piercing through the bustling harbor.

“I’m thirsty,” Hezra grumbled.

“We don’t have time,” Irene replied.

Hezra turned to Blade. “Blade,” she pressed.

Blade raised an eyebrow and glanced at Irene. “It’ll be quick, please.” he said simply.

Irene opened her mouth, but Zahra stepped forward. “I’ll go,” she said firmly.

Irene didn’t argue. The crew followed Zahra as she led them down the street.

Zahra slowed her pace and pointed toward a man standing in the sunlight. “A Guerrab,” she explained, her voice soft but proud. “That’s what they’re called here. They carry fresh water for those in need. Look closely.”

Jace’s gaze lingered on the man, taking in every detail. He wore a brilliant red coat that blazed in the sunlight like fire. A wide, decorated hat crowned his head, adorned with many small bells that jingled softly with each movement.

A large waterskin was strapped across his shoulder, its surface darkened with use, and a small copper bell hung from his hand, catching the light. His sun-worn face, lined with age, was lit by a sincere welcoming smile.

"Aman, afak (Water, please)," Zahra whispered in her native tongue, her words rolling like honey as she handed him the silver coins.

"Iyyeh, lalla (Yes, my lady)," the Guerrab replied with a nod. He moved gracefully, filling small copper cups with water and passing them to each of them. Jace lowered his shawl and brought the cup to his lips. The icy coolness of the water surprised him. He drank in large gulps, feeling each drop soothing his dry throat.

"It’s... incredibly fresh," he said.

Zahra, watching his reaction, nodded with a faint smile. "It’s one of the secrets of the Guerrabs," she explained. "Their water stays cold, even in the heat."

The Guerrab handed another cup to Irene. She drank silently, her gaze thoughtful as she returned the cup.

When everyone was done, they handed their cups back. To their surprise, it was Irene who spoke first.

She lifted her head and, with a warm voice, said, "Choukrane." (thank you).

The Guerrab’s face broke into a broad smile, and he inclined his head in recognition.

They continued through the alleys, following Irene. Jace couldn’t help but notice the beauty of the streets: colorful mosaics adorned the buildings, and pottery and carpets hung from balconies. But his gaze also caught the disdain etched into the faces of the Eldorian soldiers who swarmed the streets.

Children darted between the stalls, old men with dull eyes sat motionless, and women carried heavy baskets under the punishing sun, their faces lined with exhaustion.

Irene quickened her pace, glancing back to ensure they followed. She led them into an even narrower street. Finally, she stopped in front of a massive, heavy door, its surface encrusted with ceramic patterns and framed by potted plants.

A low growl behind them broke the stillness. Javier had forced his way to Irene, his breath labored and his expression dark. He lowered his voice, his teeth clenched as he pointed sharply at the door.

“No! No!”

“Yes,” Irene hissed.

Javier shook his head, jabbing his finger toward the door again. “They don't like me!”

Irene huffed, exasperated, and climbed the steps to the door, stepping over the scattered ceramics and flowers. She turned, her voice cold and sharp. “That’s your problem.”

She knocked twice. Jace held his breath, his eyes darting nervously to the soldiers patrolling the alley. Irene knocked again.

Finally, sounds came from behind the door: metallic crashes, hurried footsteps, low growls. A raspy, irritated voice broke the silence. “What? What!”

Irene’s lips curled into a faint, amused smile as Javier adjusted the bag on his shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“We don’t sell scrolls, books, or maps anymore! Go away!” the voice snapped, a mix of annoyance and unease. “And if you’re here about tours or expeditions on the seas, we stopped doing those years ago! Too much trouble, not enough coin!”

Irene leaned casually against the wall, her fist striking the door again, though her expression betrayed nothing but calm amusement. The sounds on the other side grew more frantic, and then a voice shouted, louder this time.

“Ah, I see! We’ve already paid our debt, our blasted dues to the Eldorians! Leave us be!”

Irene smirked, stepping closer to the door. Her voice teasing. “And what about my debt?”

Silence. The door swung open abruptly, revealing a short man. His chest was broad, his limbs thick with muscle, and his hands large and his fingers seemed slightly webbed. He stood firmly in heavy, scuffed boots, his gait low to the ground, as if rooted to it. Thick red hair crowned his head, matched by a meticulously braided beard of the same fiery hue. His large green eyes, streaked with golden flecks, gleamed with a depth that seemed to reflect the sea itself.

For a moment, those eyes widened as recognition dawned. His stern features softened, his mouth falling open slightly.

“Irene?” His voice wavered in surprise.

Clearing his throat, a grin broke across his face, and he swung the door wide. “Irene!”

Jace glanced at her curiously, a smile so genuine tugged her lips. “Egobor… my old friend,” she said softly.

Egobor gave a low chuckle, his broad chest shaking. Despite his solid frame, he moved with surprising fluidity.

From deeper within the house, a second voice rang out. “Who is it?”

Irene tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re not inviting me in?” she whispered, amusement curling her lips.

Egobor exclaimed, stepping aside with excitement “Oh, yes, what was I thinking? This is your home, after all!”

He opened the door wider, and Irene stepped inside, followed by Jace, who felt Lan’s presence just behind him. The crew entered, the door closing firmly behind them.

Egobor cast a cheerful glance at each of them before calling over his shoulder, “Honey! Irene’s back! And she’s brought company…”

The house was small, much smaller than a normal house, but brimming with life and warmth. The walls were adorned with intricately patterned ceramic tiles, their colours glowing in the soft light streaming through small windows. Dark wooden shelves bowed under the weight of countless books and scrolls. Paintings of ocean scenes covered every inch of available space, while spears, seashells, and relics of the sea hung from the walls.

The air was thick with the scent of spices, the warmth of the carved fireplace enhanced by the glow of copper pots hanging above it.

A woman appeared in the doorway. Short and solid like Egobor, she carried herself with the unyielding strength of a cliff battered by waves. Her piercing green eyes locked onto Irene, sharp with distrust.

Her silver-gray hair was braided into a crown adorned with seashells.

Her voice was deep, rolling with an accent Jace couldn’t place. “Irene. You’re alive.”

Irene narrowed her eyes. “Edwina.”

The woman folded her arms, her gaze unwavering. “So you finally came back. I'm sure you’ve brought trouble with you.”

Egobor burst into laughter, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Come on, Edwina, Irene has come a long way. Let’s not start this right away!”

The crew set down their bags. Edwina, hands on her hips, fixed Irene with a dark glare. “You’re not welcome in this house anymore,” she said coldly.

Irene didn’t flinch. Instead, she turned, her gaze sweeping over the book-covered walls, colorful rugs, and neatly arranged trinkets. “Where are my decorations? Why is there less blue?” she asked.

Edwina’s fists tightened as she shot a dark glare at Egobor. "Why did you let them through the door?" she hissed furiously. Then, louder, “You’re not welcome in this house anymore.”

Irene turned back to her, raising a brow. “You mean my house? The one I gave my gold for and built for you?”

Edwina’s face hardened. “Half of it. It’s also Dax’s house.”

At the mention of Dax’s name, the crew tensed visibly. Irene ignored them all, her fingers moving over the items on the shelves, books, cups, trinkets, as if she knew every corner by heart.

“Where did you put it?”

Edwina turned desperately to Egobor. “Say something to her! She brings nothing but trouble, and with all the rumors about her?—”

Egobor sighed heavily and began to approach Irene. Meanwhile, Jace removed his shawl, revealing his face. In the light, his blond hair and piercing blue eyes stood out.

Edwina turned abruptly, her eyes widening. She froze, breathless. “I know those eyes... that blond hair...” she murmured in disbelief. “An Eldorian.”

Javier stepped forward, spotting an empty bottle of rum on a nearby shelf. He lifted it to his lips, tilted it, and scowled when a single drop fell. “Even worse,” he muttered with his usual insolent grin. “The Eldorian prince.”

Edwina’s eyes widened in shock. She took a sharp breath and mimicked spitting onto her clothes, her hands brushing furiously against her tunic as if to rid herself of a stain. “Curse be to the usurper’s blood," she hissed.

Jace’s throat tightened. Her words filled him with a heavy, nameless guilt. He looked away. Meanwhile, Irene continued rummaging, ignoring Edwina’s furious glare. Her movements were sharp and deliberate, until Edwina’s voice finally broke through, shaking with rage.

“I told you, you are not welcome in this house!”

Irene froze, her body tense. Slowly, her fingers slid over a small key hidden between two books. She pulled it free and held it in her hand.

Then, she turned to Edwina.

Irene locked eyes with Edwina, a defiant smile curling her lips. “I own this house."

Javier, catching Jace’s confusion, wraped an arm around the prince’s shoulder, he leaned in and whispered, “You see this house? Irene and Dax built it. For Edwina and Egobor, to have a home. They are Amorians, the people of the Green Sea.”

Jace blinked, recalling what he’d read about the Amorians: a small, sea-born people said to be created from the first waters. Javier smirked and continued, “Irene and Dax built this place as a haven—for themselves and their friends in exile.” He gestured around the house. “This was their safe place. Somewhere to hide when they were hunted, store their stolen treasures, or recover after a battle. Edwina and Egobor are… old allies guarding the house.”

Jace nodded faintly, struggling to process the revelation.

Edwina stamped her foot, her frustration spilling over as she turned to Egobor. “Tell her!”

Egobor hesitated, his expression caught between worry and reproach. Finally, he turned to Irene. “We’ve heard rumors…”

Irene raised an eyebrow, her smile taking on a mischievous edge. “Glorifying, I suppose?” she said, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“Horrifying,” Edwina hissed. She stepped forward, her piercing gaze locked on Irene.

Egobor sighed heavily, his voice tinged with regret. “Irene… there are rumors. Horrifying rumors. That you betrayed Dax, that you turned your back on the Vipers. That Lorax died because of you. After that, you disappeared. We thought you were dead. If only you had seen Dax…” He paused, his voice thickening. “The last time we saw him, he was broken. Then he never came back.”

Irene raised her hands in a theatrical gesture, her tone mocking. “Well, believe in miracles—I’m here now."

Edwina glared at her, her voice sharp. “Miracles often turn into nightmares.”

Irene let out a long sigh, but said nothing.

Jace watched the exchanges, caught between confusion and curiosity.

Edwina’s sharp eyes scanned the room. “Where is Dax?”

Egobor echoed, his voice anxious. “Yes, where is he? Did you make peace? Did he come with you?”

Irene remained silent, her face unreadable.

A strange glint crossed Edwina’s eyes. She sighed, a note of resignation in her voice. “She betrayed Dax… she can’t be trusted.”

Irene smiled, but a faint sadness lingered in her eyes. “Rumors are fickle things, Edwina. They feed on fantasies… and on those with nothing better to do than believe them.”

She took a deep breath. “It was Dax who betrayed me.”

An incredulous laugh escaped Edwina. “Of course! He would never dare…” She chuckled darkly. “You and Dax are two faces of the same flame.”

Irene’s gaze snapped to her. “Believe me, he dared,” she said. “He sent me to Ildomir.”

The room fell into silence. Hezra knocked on the wooden table. Lan muttered a quiet prayer under his breath, and Zahra covered her mouth, whispering a plea. Edwina turned away, spitting into the air as if to ward off the curse.

Ildomir. The Salt Prisons. Jace knew little about them, only whispers, of air thick as chains, of loneliness that crushed souls.

Irene stepped closer to Egobor, her voice as cold as the memory she carried. "So you’ll excuse me if I haven’t visited. I’ve been too busy breaking rocks and getting beaten by jailers."

Egobor’s face paled, his voice hoarse. “By the seven seas, Irene…” He looked pained, horrified. “How… how did you escape?”

Irene’s gaze drifted to a distant point, her voice hollow. “I didn’t escape. I just left.”

Egobor blinked in disbelief. “Impossible… how?”

A maniacal chuckle escaped Irene’s lips. “I just did what they expected of me as a woman: I cooked for them, and they released me.”

Egobor stared, his words faltering. “But… you can’t ask me to choose, Irene. Dax was here too, months ago. He said you betrayed him, abandoned him.” His voice cracked. “Now you claim he betrayed you. How do you expect me to choose? I watched you both grow up. I cannot make such a cruel decision.”

Irene turned to him, “Well, you won’t have to choose,” she said with empty eyes. “Because Dax is dead.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Edwina dropped the pan she was holding, which hit the floor with a thud. She turned to the wall, supporting herself with her shaking hand. “By the seven skies and the seven seas…” she cried, her voice strangled. “He was so handsome, so sweet and charming, so strong… so kind. How could that be? How could he die?”

Javier chuckled softly, a smirk on his lips. “Sweet and kind? I wonder if we knew the same man.”

Egobor, however, seemed shocked. He continued, his voice cracking with sadness and tears in his eyes. “How… how did that happen?” ?

Irene sighed. “Saw him getting devoured by the Scarlet Serpent.”

Egobor stepped back, his red hair seeming to bristle at the impact of this revelation. “You… you approached the Serpent Isles? Have you lost your mind?” he asked, his voice trembling with shock.

Hezra laughed, a laugh without joy. “Oh, believe me, we almost lost more than our heads there…”

Egobor approached Irene, desperation etched into his features as he searched for a glimmer of reason in her burning gaze. “Irene, what are you doing? Everyone is looking for you. The guilds are hunting you. There’s a price on your head, and now you show up here with an Eldorian prince. What are you thinking?”

“Dax took everything from me. And whether he’s gone or not, I will have my vengeance.”

“Vengeance is poison, girl. Only fools drink from that cup. Seek justice,” Egobor sneered.

Irene’s gaze hardened, her voice sharp as a blade. “Justice is a fairytale whispered to fools, a beggar’s dream with empty hands. Vengeance takes. It burns, it devours.”

She paused, cutting off Egobor before he could reply. “I’m going after the sapphire.”

Egobor frowned, rolling his eyes in frustration. “What sapphire again for heaven’s sake?” he asked.

Irene cut him off. “The Sapphire.”

A frozen silence settled over the room. Everyone held their breath. Edwina and Egobor exchanged a long glance, while Jace felt like a stranger in his own life once more.

Egobor’s voice wavered, caught between fear and disbelief. “It’s… it’s impossible.”

Irene’s smile was sharp, full of irony and defiance. “Oh, it’s possible. I have the fragments of the maps,” she said, gesturing toward Zahra’s satchel. “I have the real ashes,” she added, touching the pendant around her neck.

She stepped further into the room, her movements quick, feverish—like a dancer caught in a trance. Her eyes burned with an almost unholy light.

“And I have the best tuli.” She pointed at Zahra, who froze under her gaze. “She can decipher ancient texts better than anyone.”

Irene spun on her heel, her voice rising. “And guess what? I have a healer, too.” She gestured toward Lan. “And to top it all off, I have the best ship—the fastest in the world. The StormBreaker .”

She paused, her smile turning wicked as she pointed at Jace. “And I have the beautiful key to the sapphire.”

Edwina shook her head, muttering. “All of this… is going to get us into trouble.”

She turned toward Irene, wary. “I get what you’re after, Irene. But no matter how much gold you promised them, you won’t drag me or Egobor into your madness.”

Irene’s smile deepened, wry and sharp. “Oh, really? Not even to take back your Amoria?”

The room fell silent again.

“Think about what the sapphire could give you,” Irene pressed, her voice laced with challenge. “The resources to claim back Amoria from the king’s grip. Justice won’t get it for you. How many years have your people been exiled? It’s time for you to think of vengeance.”

Jace sifted through fragments of memory, recalling everything he’d read about the continents, islands, and lands of this world.

Amoria. The green sea, exploited now by the Eldorian army. He saw himself reading descriptions of the islands, its mountains and forests, its waters—fertile and vibrant, like the Amorians’ eyes. It was said to hold the richest mines, overflowing with precious stones.

Before he turned to meet Egobor’s gaze, he understood. Amoria wasn’t just a name from a book. It was a desecrated land, a shattered legacy. Another paradise destroyed by the sins of his father.

Egobor finally stepped forward, his voice low but firm. “What do you need?”

Irene didn’t hesitate. “A real crew.”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll call the Company.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are they here?”

“Of course,” Egobor replied. “It’s reaping week. They won’t miss the rations.”

Irene’s expression tightened with satisfaction. “Good,” she said firmly. “I want them here. Now.”

Egobor exchanged a look with Edwina, something silent passing between them, an unspoken agreement. Though annoyed, Edwina relented, clapping her hands to break the tension. “Who’s hungry? Come help me in the kitchen, will you?”

Lan approached her, bowing slightly to her height. He took her large hand delicately in his and placed a kiss on it. “Thank you for welcoming us into your home, dear Edwina. It’s an honor to meet an Amorian. Your beauty is simply breathtaking.”

Jace smiled at Lan’s grace, and Edwina blushed. “At least one of you is charming. It makes me miss my dear Dax. He was so… charming,” she said, choking back a tear. “Follow me to the kitchen.”

The tension in the room eased. The crew relaxed, unloading their belongings, their whispers and nervous laughter slowly overtaking the heaviness that had lingered. Jace stayed close to Irene and Egobor.

Egobor stared at Irene, his thick eyebrows furrowed. After a pause, he spoke, his voice almost breaking. “I still can’t believe Dax is dead. And that he sent you to Ildomir... it must have been terrible.”

“He did it without a shred of remorse,” Irene replied. “Just before Lorax named one of us captain of the guild.”

Egobor shook his head. “You should have told me. We could’ve found another way. I warned you—this rivalry would consume you both. It’s all the Lorax’s fault. That greedy, rotting pirate. You should’ve waited for him to die, escaped to the Jade Cities, and then come back to share the guild and the fleet.”

Irene’s face froze, her expression fracturing for a moment, pain flashing in her eyes. “Egobor, what you’re saying doesn’t matter anymore. Dax would never have shared the title with me. And there was no way I’d let him have it all. I bled for it, just as much as he did.”

Her voice shook as she exhaled, then she turned sharply, her expression shifting. “Your wife better not have touched my clothes,” she said with a teasing smile.

Irene's expression shifted, and she exclaimed, “Your wife didn’t touch my clothes, did she?” Her teasing smile softened the sharpness of her words.

“Don’t worry, it’s all there,” Egobor replied with a faint smile, exhaling as he spoke.

Irene inclined her head toward Jace before turning to leave. “Keep an eye on my prince, huh?” she said, disappearing into one of the house’s rooms.

Egobor turned to Jace, tapping his shoulder. “Come with me,” he said quietly.

Egobor moved to the window, pulling a small, polished shell from his coat. Its surface shimmered faintly with silver and green spirals.

He opened the window and raised the shell to his lips. He blew softly. No sound escaped, at least none that Jace could hear. Egobor’s shoulders rose and fell with the breath, the shell glimmered in the faint light.

Jace frowned. “That’s it?”

Egobor lowered the shell, a flicker of amusement lighting his eyes. “That’s it,” he replied.

“Are they supposed to just… know to come here?”

Egobor turned, his gaze gleaming with quiet confidence. “It’s a whisper shell,” he said. “Amorian ears hear things you couldn’t imagine. We hear the world sharper than you do… simple humans.”

Jace arched an eyebrow, equal parts disbelief and curiosity. “So… they heard it? Just like that?”

Egobor chuckled, rough and low, like the edge of the sea. “Aye. They’ll be here before night falls. Trust me.”

Near the window, Javier drew the curtain aside, his gaze scanning the empty streets cloaked in an eerie silence. Without turning, he murmured, almost to himself, “Why are the streets so empty?”

Zahra, settling into a chair, lowered her eyes. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Because today is a day of misfortune…”

Egobor sighed. “It’s reaping day. The Tulis stay home. Half of them feast on the rations they’ve been given; the other half mourn the children they’ve sent to Eldoria, to guarantee the next…”

Jace’s jaw tightened, his breath escaping in a sharp whisper. “That’s cruel.”

Zahra’s dark gaze met him. “That’s the reality your father forces on us.” Her words hung in the air like a blade.

Jace lowered his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he knew it was hollow.

Across the room, while Lan helped Edwina, Hezra set the table with Blade, who growled loudly, 'I’m hungry as a wolf!

Hezra rolled her eyes. "So this is the mighty quest you promised me? Setting the table?" Her smirk matched his.

"Blade stepped closer, cupping her face in his hands. Leaning in, his breath brushed her ear as his fingers tugged her hair. "I'm sure… the legendary Hezra can make an exception for us... ?"

She nudged him playfully, her lips twitching into a smile. “Fine, but you’re still not forgiven.”

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the room. Egobor jumped, his eyes lighting up with joy. Without hesitation, threw the door open.

Jace stepped closer, peeking over Egobor’s shoulder as a stream of Amorians poured in, their voices and laughter filling the house. A dozen or more crowded the room, broad and solid, and green eyes brimming with life. They carried sacks of flour, nets of fish, baskets of fruit, and weapons slung casually over their shoulders.

The first to enter was a man with wild brown hair, two locks sticking up like horns. His beard, braided with shells, bounced as he stomped in, arms raised. “Ayeee! Did someone call us?”

Egobor's face lit up as he began the introductions. “This is Baelor, Fionir, Rorin, Brannoc, Rhaelen, Sorcha, Fiador, Fynlee, Orrin, Draemir, Kaelen…” He gestured toward a striking Amorian woman with green eyes and an axe at her hip. "Muiren...” Her gaze sparkled like the sea, sharper and more vibrant than the rest.

The names came too fast for Jace, who was quickly overwhelmed by the colorful, smiling faces that surrounded him. The room suddenly felt too small for so much life.

Across the room, Javier tried to blend into the background, but the one named Baelor caught sight of him. "You rotten fish! I thought you were dead. Where’s the coin you owe me, scoundrel?"

Javier raised his hands,but Egobor stepped in, pushing the two apart before the quarrel could escalate.

The room erupted in joyful chaos as laughter, shouts, and clinking dishes filled the air.

Jace suddenly felt a stare fixed on him. He turned to meet the piercing eyes of two Amorians, Fionir and Fynlee.

Fionir smirked. “Golden hair, eyes like the ocean, face of an angel…”

Fynlee sniffed the air, like a predator catching a scent. “Royal blood… enemy,” he murmured. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, stroking it with a quiet threat. Maybe we should?—”

A cold voice cut through the air. “Touch him, and I’ll skin you alive.”

The room froze. All eyes turned to Irene, who had just entered. Though her voice was barely a whisper, it carried a menace so sharp that Fynlee instinctively recoiled. He removed his hat and pressed it to his chest.

“Wrath of the Sea,” he breathed, inclining his head. “My captain.” With a smirk, he feigned a bow.

Jace watched, intrigued. Wrath of the Sea. So that’s what they called her.

Irene caught his stare and raised a mocking eyebrow. "Stop staring, my prince. I might think you’re falling for me."

Surprised, Jace chuckled nervously, heat rushing to his cheeks. "Much to my regret, I think I’m starting to enjoy your company, Captain."

A flush crept up Irene’s face, but she huffed and glanced away, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Then you’re an idiot."

Jace stood frozen, caught between the warmth of her words and their sting. From across the room, he watched her join Zahra and Egobor, hunched over the map.

Edwina entered, carrying a heavy platter of food. She set it down with a warm smile. "When was the last time any of you had a proper feast?" Javier burst out laughing, raising his cup. “Centuries, Edwina! Centuries!”

They took their seats around the table, the air alive with chatter and the clatter of dishes. Baelor suddenly cried out, holding up a small jar. “Oh! I nearly forgot—honey! Stolen straight from an Eldorian guard!”

“I want some!” Javier laughed, then leaned toward Zahra with a mischievous glint. “Have you ever tasted honey?”

Zahra shook her head, curious. She dipped a finger into the jar and brought it to her lips. Her eyes widened, bright with delight. “It’s… so sweet!”

Javier’s gaze lingered on her, his smile softening. Jace looked away, feeling like an intruder. His eyes landed on Blade, who was tying back Hezra’s auburn hair as she devoured cheese and pastries.

“A feast fit for a king!” Baelor exclaimed, laughing.

Jace glanced at the modest spread before him, his gratitude tinged with sadness. What they considered a banquet was meager compared to the golden feasts of Eldoria. The stark contrast gnawed at him, a reminder of his privilege.

Egobor rose, lifting his cup high, his deep voice rolling like thunder across the room. "To the seas that carry us, to the blood that binds us, and to the sapphire, the jewel that will shatter the Usurper's crown! May it bring us freedom… or a death worth singing about!"

A shiver ran down Jace’s spine as the room erupted. Everyone raised their cups, shouting as their fists pounded the table. "Aye!" Jace raised his cup too. Rorin and Orrin clapped him on the shoulders, their laughter echoing around him. He chuckled nervously, lifted the cup to his lips, then froze. His gaze locked with Irene’s across the room. She smiled, her cheeks hollowing in that sharp, knowing way that stole his breath. Throughout the meal, laughter and voices rose together with the crackling of the fire. As they ate, sharing stories and memories, Jace listened with fascination. He learned that Amorians could breathe underwater for long periods. Fionir shrugged off his heavy coat, peeling back layers of thick clothing to reveal his broad chest and ribs, noticeably larger than any Jace had seen before.

“Bigger lungs,” Fionir said with a grin, “are the gift of the sea.”

Fiador’s children had learned to swim before they could walk. Javier owed money to Brannoc, Sorcha, and Baelor—debts he laughed off as they exchanged playful jabs. The Amorians spoke of their adventures with a mix of humor and pride. Each story and shared laugh wove invisible bonds around the table. Yet, Jace learned something darker too: they had been driven from their homeland, Amoria, in the green sea, by his father during the Great War. They hadn’t returned since.

At the corner of the table, Egobor and Baelor spoke in low voices. Baelor stroked his long beard.

“What this Lady Death is telling you… is that your fragment,” he said, “is hidden in the catacombs.”

Irene raised her eyebrows, silently urging him to continue.

“In Merzoug,” Baelor added, “beneath the ancient stones of Tulindor.”

Zahra’s voice cut through, “Where men fear to tread… of course! The catacombs—they’re cursed! Since souls drowned there, no one dares venture into them.”

Irene nodded. “And the fragment remains untouched, drowned beneath stone vaults…” Her voice trailed off as she thought, then she said, “We’ll have to dive to retrieve it. The rest of you will wait on the StormBreaker. We’ll meet on the other side. Get yourselves ready.” Jace felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

As the hours passed, the table slowly emptied. Outside, the night deepened, and shadows flickered on the walls in the firelight. In the quiet that followed, a strange melancholy hung in the air, as if everyone suddenly remembered why they were here. It wasn’t the warmth of a shared feast or the sweetness of reunion that had brought them together. They were here because the sapphire had called them, binding their fates to a single, dangerous purpose, and a promise of freedom. At the window, Irene parted the curtain slightly, peering outside. In a low, measured tone, she said, "We'll wait for the next round of soldiers. Once they pass, we’ll move."

Egobor stepped toward Edwina and kissed her forehead. "This time, we have a chance to find our true home again, to fill it with the laughter of our children."

Jace hesitated, the question burning his tongue. He spoke before he could stop himself. "Why not have children now?"

The room stilled as all eyes turned to him. Egobor met his eyes and said, "I could not burden my wife with the weight of bringing little Amorians into a world where they cannot set foot on the lands of their ancestors. It would be cruel to speak of a home they’d never see."

Jace rose from his chair, his voice cracking. "I know my words are small beside the weight of my people’s sins, but I must apologize to all of you. For my ignorance. For the pain my father caused. For the blood he spilled. And for the way he doomed humanity."

Egobor placed a hand on Jace’s shoulder. Before he could respond, Lan spoke, his voice distant, his eyes hollow. "Humanity was doomed the moment we carved the earth into borders and waved flags to divide it, Your Highness. Titles and banners turned kin into enemies, and the world bled for colours that meant nothing. Freedom is the only prize worth fighting for."

Baelor snorted, "As long as I have my Amoria back and my pockets full of gold," he muttered, turning to Egobor with a sharp grin. They exchanged a look and retrieved something from a nearby chest.

Behind them, Irene meticulously checked her weapons, her focus razor-sharp, paying no attention to their words. Baelor approached her slowly, a sword in his hands. Despite his small stature, his solemn gesture carried quiet strength. Irene turned toward them, feeling the weight of every gaze on her. Her expression shifted, surprised, eyebrows raised, a touch of confusion with something softer, perhaps touched. "By the oldest tradition of the Amorians... a gift for the one who carries our destiny on her shoulders."

Irene opened her mouth, stunned and moved. She leaned toward Baelor and touched the sword. Jace saw a faint blue glow ripple across the blade, like a breath brought to life. Irene took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and grasped the sword firmly. She raised it to her eyes, watching the ethereal blue light shimmer above it, then spun it in her hand. Turning to Egobor, she found him smiling, his mustache quivering slightly as he winked. "Captain," he said.

Irene lifted the sword high, her voice carrying both pride and determination. "To Distant Shores."

Egobor was the first to echo her cry. "To Distant Shores!" Soon, the room thundered with voices, the call reverberating through the air: "To Distant Shores!"

A shiver coursed through Jace as the chant filled the room. Around him, everyone moved with focus. Near the fireplace, the Amorians , under Irene's instructions, split into two groups. Jace felt a wave of relief knowing he wouldn’t be among those diving into the dark waters of the catacombs to retrieve the fragment. Some polished axes and swords. Blade and Hezra sorted supplies for the StormBreaker alongside Edwina, while Lan carefully packed medicinal plants into small bags.Javier sat close to the fireplace, his gaze lost in the flames.

A heavy silence fell upon the room, thick and unbroken, until Baelor's voice rose like the first stirrings of a storm, raw and deep as he sang:

"From rolling waves to iron shores,

The seas called, and we were born."

The Amorians joined him, one after the other, their voices low and resonant, a hum that carried the weight of their sorrow and pride. The sound swelled like the tides, filling the air with a melody that seemed to echo through the very walls of the house.

"In Amoria’s cliffs, our spirits stay,

Yet torn from home, we drift and stray."

The song gripped Jace, its mournful beauty resonating with a pain that wasn’t his own but felt shared all the same. A tear slipped down his cheek before he even realized it.

"Through flame and song, we light the way,

Till the tyrant falls, and shadows sway."

Confused, Jace turned to Egobor and whispered, "Why do they sing this song?"

Egobor, his eyes fixed on the fire, answered, "This is the Song of the Lost. Until the Soulstone of our people is returned to Amoria, every Amorian will wander—lost, even in death. We sing to remind our dead that they are not forgotten and to renew our promise to free our land from the tyrant’s grip."

Jace felt the weight of Egobor’s words press on him. The voices swelled again, filling the room:

"Till the Usurper’s gone, and free our shore,

We drift like ghosts upon the storm."

The final note lingered in the air before it vanished.

Irene closed the window and said, “It’s time.” One by one, they stood and stepped into the night. The cool air outside loosened the knot in Jace’s throat. In front of the house, the group split in two. Danger thrummed in Jace’s veins, and despite himself, he prayed they would succeed in stealing the fragment and return safely to the StormBreaker. Praying for criminals… if his cousin Eris could see him now, he'd mock him.

Javier faced Irene. “Keep your eyes open,” he said. She replied, “And your sword ready.”

The groups split, fading into the shadows. Jace joined Irene, their eyes meeting in silence as they walked side by side. His gaze slid to her parted lips, and a thought struck him, terrifying in its clarity: he would give up everything—dishonor his father, betray his dynasty, renounce who he was—if she looked at him with that same intensity again.