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T he lagoon lapped at Vivienne’s fingertips as she sat on the bank, the cool water soothing against her skin. The rhythmic murmur of the small waterfall cascading into the pool was a balm to her frayed nerves—a distinct departure from the kaleidoscopic chaos of her hallucination. She cupped her hands, dunking them into the crystal-clear surface, splashing her face once more, as if she could wash away the remnants of the dreamworld they had been ensnared in.

Beside her, Cirrus sat with his arms draped over his knees, taking deep, measured breaths. His damp hair clung to his forehead, evidence of his own attempt to drown out the lingering effects of the pollen-induced visions. His ice-blue eyes were distant, his usual sharpness dulled by a heaviness she couldn’t name.

Owen, his feet submerged to mid-calf, stared blankly into the rippling water. “It felt real,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Too real.”

Vivienne nodded. The hallucinations had been more than illusions. They had felt like memories woven from mist—visceral, intoxicating, impossible to ignore.

“Whatever those flowers are,” Lewis spoke, rubbing his temples as he wiped the last traces of pollen from his face with a spare shirt, “as much as you and I would love to study them?—”

“We can’t afford to hallucinate our way into another disaster.” Vivienne exhaled, pushing away the disappointment curling in her gut. The scholar in her ached to examine the strange flora, to document every anomaly this island presented. But there was no time for research, only survival. No wonder her parents had needed multiple expeditions to try and make sense of Verdance.

Silence stretched between them, the hush punctuated only by the steady fall of water and the occasional sigh of the wind through the leaves. For the first time in what felt like weeks, the island wasn’t trying to kill them. For now.

Lewis stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Before the cursed pollen decided to launch us into existential crises, we planned to rinse off and rest.”

Cirrus let out a slow, amused breath. “After surviving a rockslide and a bad trip? Sounds deserved.”

Without hesitation, Lewis yanked off his boots and stripped down to his underclothes. A moment later, his bare backside gleamed in the sun as he sprinted toward the water and dove in with an exaggerated splash.

Vivienne clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Cirrus, seated beside her, smirked but said nothing. He was watching the water, his expression unreadable. Vivienne turned toward him, noting the way exhaustion lingered in his features. The way his usual bravado sat just a little too heavy in his posture.

Noticing her gaze, he glanced at her, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “I say we enjoy this… while we can.” The words were light, but something heavy clung beneath them.

Owen, ever the cautious one, scanned their surroundings before exhaling through his nose. “Fine, but be quick?—”

Before he could finish, Cirrus was already shrugging off his clothes and diving in.

Owen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable.”

He turned to Vivienne and made a circular gesture. “If you would?”

She sighed but complied, turning her back and covering her eyes. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already seen Owen bare in the stream days before, but certain details didn’t need to be shared. If Cirrus or Lewis found out she and the commander had unknowingly bathed in the same water, there wouldn’t be enough island to contain the fallout.

A splash confirmed Owen had joined them. “Gentlemen,” he called, “turn around. Let’s give Vivienne some privacy.”

Lewis obeyed without protest. Cirrus, however, lingered, his wolfish grin widening as he met her glare.

“Do you mind?” she hissed.

“Not at all,” he crooned, arms folding across his chest. His gaze dipped, slow and deliberate. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before. And, if anything… those have only gotten better.”

Vivienne bristled, heat creeping up her spine.

Owen cleared his throat, a warning edge to his voice. “I’ll have you know, Theodosia, I can still reach at least three of my knives from here.”

Cirrus sighed dramatically and turned away—just slow enough to be obnoxious.

Vivienne pulled off her sweat-stained clothes and stepped into the lagoon. Cool water licked at her skin, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. She waded deeper, submerging herself fully before resurfacing with a sharp inhale. The grime, the sweat, the exhaustion—all of it melted away.

Lewis floated near the waterfall, head tilted back, the cascading water washing over him. “I want to stay here forever,” he sighed.

Vivienne chuckled, letting herself drift. For the first time in days, she wasn’t running for her life. No curses, no Enyo, no looming threats. Just this—sunlight on her face, water cradling her limbs, and the sound of her friends’ quiet laughter.

When she finally stepped out of the lagoon, the air felt cooler against her damp skin, the sun dipping lower, casting gold across the treetops. She dressed quickly, wringing the excess water from her hair as the others did the same.

Owen, ever the soldier, remained quiet as he laced up his boots, though some of his usual tension had been smoothed away.

Lewis plopped down beside a rock, wringing out his shirt. “That was exactly what we needed,” he sighed. “We’re almost human again.” He cast Cirrus a side-eyed glance. “Well… for those of us who are human.”

Cirrus flashed him a rude gesture in response.

Already dressed, he was rolling up his bedroll when his gaze drifted to Vivienne. A small smile played at the corner of his lips. She ignored it.

“We should eat before we move out,” she said instead, rummaging through her pack.

The meal was meager—dried fruit, hard biscuits, and salted meat—but after everything, it might as well have been a feast. They ate at the water’s edge, their easy conversation filling the air.

Vivienne was about to take another bite when something caught her eye. The lagoon rippled. Her stomach twisted.

“Did anyone see that?” she asked, straightening.

Cirrus followed her gaze. Another ripple. Then—something sleek, dark, and glistening broke the surface before vanishing into the depths.

“I see it,” Cirrus muttered, rising to his feet, his hand instinctively reaching for his cutlass.

Lewis squinted, adjusting his glasses. “What is it? A fish?”

Owen’s face was taut, his voice a gavel of certainty. “That’s not a fish.”