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T he group thought time might help the fiery ache of the venom, but the pain never dissipated. If anything, Vivienne thought it was getting worse.

"Lewis, is there anything we can use for these stings?"

He sat up, the effort scrunching up his face. "I still have some yarrow in my bag. We can start there. I've seen some Ironbark Moss and Silverleaf, but we'd have to go harvest it."

Lewis tried to stand, but his stung leg gave out.

"I'm the only one without injury to a limb," Cirrus noted. "Blume, if you tell me what these plants look like, I can find them and bring them back to the group."

Lewis dove into descriptive instructions with Cirrus about the broad Silverleaves and the thick, dark green moss that only grew on ancient trees. While Lewis confirmed Cirrus' understanding, Vivienne turned her attention to the commander.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I don't think I would have?—"

"You would have made it," Owen interrupted. "I only helped a bit."

"I'm not great at asking for or accepting help."

Sarcasm flashed in Owen's dark eyes. "Tell me something I don’t know."

"There's plenty of things you don't know, commander."

"Good thing I travel with an Antiquary." He grinned.

"In the river, you... you called me by my first name," she noted, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"The timing of our circumstances didn't allow for propriety," Thorne explained. "Next time we're swimming away from crazed insects, I'll be sure to address you properly.”

"I'd prefer a written invitation to my rescue with a wax seal," she taunted. "Scented with cologne for good measure."

He raised his eyebrows, a smile curling on his lips. "I assume it should be delivered via horse-drawn carriage and to great fanfare? Trumpets, perhaps?"

She gave a playful shrug. "If there are no horses and trumpets, don't bother."

Thorne breathed a chuckle. "In all seriousness, I will revert to calling you Miss Banner.” He scanned her face, searching for a clue. “Unless you prefer otherwise?"

He had said her first name in a way no one had before, equal parts steadying and distracting. She wanted him to say it more. To explore all the layers in his voice.

"I prefer Vivienne and I’d like to call you Owen, if you’re okay with that." She smiled at him. "Oh, the horses and trumpets are only available as a part of the premium traveler's plan."

"I'll start saving up for premium then, and I’ll adjust to you using my first name." Owen smirked at her, his eyes looking deep into hers. "Vivienne."

"Well, that's great," Lewis exclaimed. "Another symptom of the venom. Our commander is acting like a human instead of a statue. He's lost his mind."

"I still see a statue... are you sure you're not the one losing your mind, Lewis?" she teased.

Lewis played along, making a series of ridiculous faces and sending all three of them in stitches. After an emotional, volatile day, Vivienne was grateful it ended with laughter.

* * *

The overnight poultices Lewis prepared from Cirrus’ foraging worked wonders. By morning, the worst of the Apocrita venom had faded, restoring their mobility. They spent the early hours filling their packs with anything safe to eat. Vivienne was thrilled to find another auregranate tree, already indulging in several of the golden-skinned, ruby-centered fruits before returning to their temporary camp.

Seated in a rough circle, they picked at their meager breakfast, reviewing everything they’d uncovered.

Lewis pushed his spectacles up his nose. "We've established King Berius is a lying bastard. I don't think we can trust a single word he said to us during our audience," Lewis insisted.

"Agreed, but Montaghue might’ve let some truths slip," Vivienne suggested with a raise of her shoulders. “He mentioned that breaking the curse required collecting tributes and honoring each island’s way of life.”

Owen stroked his chin, stubble thick from days without a shave. "Meaning the curse isn’t just about gathering objects, it’s about restitution. Penance.”

Cirrus shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing we do can bring back an entire civilization.”

"I don't think any act of reparation would ever come close," Vivienne added.

Lewis mumbled, lost in thought. "Scales..."

"Scales?" Owen echoed.

“The curse,” Lewis began, his voice picking up speed. “King Berius and his weasel of a chancellor said Velorien cast the curse, right? He’s the god of justice and balance. He weighs the scales.” He mimed a set of scales with his hands. "If the curse was his way of restoring balance, then to break it, we need to add enough weight to our side.”

"Get to the point, Blume," Cirrus interrupted.

"Stay with me, Cici," Lewis pointed at Cirrus before he continued. "This island worshipped Elandra the goddess of love, fertility, and harvest.

Vivienne nodded. "She’s in almost every carving.”

"What if Velorien isn't the one who balances the scales here? What if, because this island is her domain, Elandra’s the one we need to appease?

Lewis held his hands up, waiting for them to reach the same realization. Instead, they exchanged confused glances.

"Don't you get it?" Lewis paced, marking out every step of his breakthrough. "Velorien took life. He ended bloodlines in Fendwyr because of the ones destroyed here. We assumed the tribute would be something violent, like a blood sacrifice or killing certain people?—"

"But Elandra wouldn't take life,” Vivienne interrupted, the realization hitting her. “She’d restore it.”

Cirrus raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one way I know to create life, and it would delay things by about nine months."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "First, ew Cirrus. Second, we're on an island of flora with a never-ending growth cycle."

Owen shifted in his seat. "You’re suggesting the tribute is… a plant?”

“Not just any plant,” Lewis said, snapping his fingers at Vivienne. “Show the tracing.”

Vivienne folded her arms and glared at him. "Try again."

He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Viv, I got carried away. Would you please bring out the tracing with the moons?"

She gave him a curt, appreciative nod as she laid out the parchment.

"We've determined the owl represents Fendwyr or, rather, the assholes who attacked Verdance," Lewis explained. "The moon phases at the top and the growth phases at the bottom go together.”

The lyrics of the sea shanty floated into Vivienne’s consciousness. “ With moon and star and flower fair, we'll brave the endless sea. ” Her eyes widened. “A moon and a flower, that’s it! ”

Owen angled his head. “That’s not from the carvings.”

“It’s a song,” Vivienne said, barely containing her excitement. “The tribute must be a flower. One we have to plant under a certain moon phase.”

Cirrus blew a sputtering sound through his lips. "And do we know which flower? Where do we find it and then where do we plant it?”

Lewis pursed his lips. "...No... but we’re closer than before."

"The waterfalls!" Vivienne jumped up. "The flower might be there."

"From one of the other carvings, right?" Owen followed her line of thought. "What about the one with the goddess crying?"

"Seems simple to me," Cirrus asserted. "The goddess was mourning her people.”

Lewis snorted. "If Cici is our emotional barometer, we’re doomed."

Vivienne bit her lip to keep from laughing. Cirrus wasn’t wrong, but she doubted the carving was so straightforward. The stone worker had taken the time to carve the scene. It has to mean something more significant.

"Ha, ha, Blume," Cirrus retorted. "One thing is still bothering me from yesterday?—"

"Same here," Lewis taunted, aiming his gaze at Cirrus.

Cirrus ignored him. "The earthquake and the Apocrita attack. Don’t you think it’s strange how those things happened right after Simon crushed the skull?”

Owen’s forehead creased in a deep line. "Perhaps the earthquake agitated the swarm and they attacked in response.”

"Fine," Cirrus conceded. "But what if it wasn’t naturally occurring? What if the goddess reacted to their desecration?”

Vivienne reflected on the sequence of events. No, they can't be connected. Maybe a lucky, or unlucky, karmic collision.

Lewis hummed a sound of doubt. “You’re saying Elandra herself caused the earthquake and sent a horde of nightmare bees after them?”

“It’s not an outrageous leap.” Cirrus crossed his arms. "We're literally on a quest to find a flower and break a curse."

Vivienne stared at him. Of all people, Cirrus was the last person she’d expect to suggest divine intervention. And yet, she believed him. She’d never seen so much death or been forced to reckon with the horrors her kingdom had buried. Even if they failed to break the curse, she felt they owed this island something.

Some form of justice, however inadequate it may be.