Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
The Emberfall ship loomed ahead, its dark hull sleek and formidable, a stark contrast to the jagged, icy coastline of Icespire. The sails, brilliant white against the gray sky, were already unfurled, billowing in the cold breeze that swept in from the ocean. The ship’s wood gleamed with the polish of a fleet that was built for more than mere transport. This was a warship—sturdy and well-armed, with soldiers in dark red-and-gold Emberfall uniforms moving about, loading supplies and securing cargo with efficient precision.
The harbor itself was alive with activity. Crates were lifted onto the deck, barrels rolled across the dock with dull thuds, and soldiers directed each other in clipped tones. Their movements were fast and deliberate, as though they had done this a hundred times before. There was no panic in their faces—only focus. It seemed that nothing could rattle these men.
I hesitated at the bottom of the gangplank, the sea air hitting me with a briny sharpness that was so different from the biting cold of Icespire’s wind. The ocean stretched out before me in a vast, endless expanse, its dark blue surface rippling with waves that seemed both gentle and menacing. I had never seen anything like it—an open horizon that seemed to go on forever, as though it could swallow the world whole. For a moment, I was struck by the sheer size of it, the way the ocean seemed to stretch toward infinity, untouchable, unknowable.
As I stepped onto the ship, the wooden planks felt foreign under my boots, shifting slightly beneath me with the swell of the water. It was unnerving, this feeling of the ground moving. I gripped the railing as I made my way toward the edge of the ship, the smell of salt and damp wood filling the air. The ocean breeze tugged at my hair, the sound of the waves lapping against the ship a constant, rhythmic presence.
I had spent so much of my life dreaming of this—of what it would be like to leave Icespire, to escape the cold, the stone, the constant threat of death. And yet, standing here now, the reality of it felt strange, unfamiliar. The excitement was tinged with something else—something heavier. There was no going back now.
Footsteps approached from behind, and I knew, without turning, that it was Rhydian. There was something about his presence—steady, deliberate—that I had begun to recognize before I even saw him. He came to stand beside me at the railing, his eyes fixed on the same endless stretch of water.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
I hesitated, not sure how to put into words what was swirling inside me. Finally, I spoke. “I never thought I’d see the ocean.”
Rhydian turned slightly toward me, studying my face for a moment. He didn’t speak, didn’t interrupt, just waited.
I smiled faintly, still looking out at the water. “It smells different than I imagined.”
He raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “Different how?”
I shrugged, trying to find the words. “I thought it would smell… fresher. Cleaner, maybe. But it’s heavier. Briny. It smells like… stories.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Stories?”
I laughed, shaking my head at the absurdity of my own thoughts. “Yes, stories. When I was little, I used to imagine what the ocean would be like—what it would feel like to stand on a ship. I always thought it would feel… free.”
Rhydian’s gaze didn’t waver. He stayed quiet, letting me speak without interruption.
I swallowed, the cool sea breeze brushing my face. “Aeliana and I… we used to talk about leaving Icespire. We’d dream about it, sitting in our bedroom. We’d make up stories about what it would be like. To sail away from everything.”
I paused, memories of Aeliana’s bright laughter filling my mind. My heart ached at the thought of her, at the reality that she would never stand here beside me, never see the ocean we had dreamed about for so long. The cold force of her absence pressed down on me.
“I always thought we’d leave together,” I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. “We used to promise each other that one day we’d get out of Icespire. Sail somewhere warm, somewhere far from all of this. We imagined running away to a place where no one knew us, where we didn’t have to be anyone but ourselves. Where there weren’t expectations or duties or… death.”
The words came out more bitter than I intended. Aeliana had died, and I was the one who had been forced to leave, forced to take on her life as my own. It wasn’t freedom. It was survival.
Rhydian shifted slightly, his gaze soft but steady. “You’re here now,” he said quietly. “Leaving Icespire, just like you dreamed.”
I looked up at him, my throat tight. “But not like I dreamed,” I said. “Aeliana’s gone. And I’m not leaving as myself. I’m leaving as her .”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he would say something, offer some words of comfort. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, the wind ruffling his dark hair as he stared out at the ocean with that same quiet intensity he always carried.
“You might not be leaving the way you imagined,” he said slowly, his voice low, “but you’re still leaving. That has to mean something.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because even though he was right—this was the escape Aeliana and I had dreamed about—it didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like something else.
The ship groaned beneath the weight of the supplies being hauled aboard. Its dark wood gleamed in the weak light, polished smooth by years of service on the open seas. I had spent my life surrounded by stone walls, cold air, and the endless silence of the crypts. Standing here now, on the deck of an Emberfall warship, with the sound of the waves crashing against the hull and the smell of salt heavy in the air, I realized how small my world had been.
“You should room with Bertha,” Rhydian then said. “I don’t trust Thorne. Or his men.”
I glanced at him, surprised by his bluntness. “Why? What do you think they’ll do?”
He sighed, looking out at the sea. “I’ve known men like Thorne all my life. They follow power, not loyalty. The king’s orders may be one thing, but if they see a way to advance their own interests, they’ll take it. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”
The concern in his tone was clear, and it sent a ripple of warmth through me. Rhydian had always been protective, but this felt different. Personal.
I nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll stay with Bertha.”
Before Rhydian could respond, Bertha’s familiar voice rang out behind us. “Aye, she’ll be safe with me!” She marched up, hands on her hips, grinning wide enough to show off the gap between her teeth. “Though I warn ye, m’lady, I snore like a beast.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Thank you, Bertha. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Rhydian sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “She’ll be fine, Bertha. I trust you’ll make sure of that.”
Bertha winked at him, her round face beaming. “Don’t ye worry, Lord Rhydian. I’ll take care of her. We’ll have plenty of time to teach her the finer arts of… well, I’ll keep it clean this time.”
“Please,” Rhydian muttered, but the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.
With a cackle, Bertha wandered off, shouting some playful insult at a soldier who was struggling to lift a barrel.
I looked out at the vast ocean again, my fingers tightening on the railing. The water stretched out as far as I could see, dark and endless. The ship rocked gently beneath me, and I had to remind myself that we weren’t tethered to anything solid anymore. “I never imagined it would be this… big,” I admitted. “It makes the crypts feel so… small.”
Rhydian studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “The world outside Icespire is larger than you think. There’s more than kingdoms and armies. More than crypts and magic. This ocean? It’s just the beginning.”
His words lingered, and I felt something stir inside me—an unfamiliar blend of excitement and fear. I had been so focused on survival, on playing my role as Aeliana, that I hadn’t allowed myself to imagine what lay beyond the walls of Icespire. Beyond the cold. Beyond the queen’s control.
As we moved across the deck, Rhydian continued the tour, pointing out the various sections of the ship. “The lower decks are where the crew sleeps—cramped quarters, but better than the floor. Supplies are kept below as well. The ship’s built for travel and war, so we’re carrying enough rations for a long voyage.”
I nodded, trying to absorb everything at once. Every corner of the ship seemed to hum with activity—the creak of the wood beneath my feet, the soft groan of the rigging as the wind pulled at the sails. It was all so new, so alive. I had spent years in the cold silence of the crypts, surrounded by the dead, and now… this was something else entirely. It was like stepping into a world I had only ever dreamed of.
“I feel a little sick already,” I groaned. Not sure if I was getting seasick already or if I was nervous for the journey ahead.
Rhydian stood beside me. “You’ll get used to it. The movement of the ship, the feel of the wind. Soon, it’ll feel like second nature.”
I nodded, though the knot of anxiety in my chest didn’t quite loosen. “Do you think we’ll be safe? On the ship, I mean. With the Dragon King’s forces out there?”
Rhydian’s face hardened, and for a moment, he said nothing. The wind whipped around us, and the waves crashed against the hull below. “We’ll be safer on the sea than we would be on land,” he said finally. “We’ll have to stay vigilant.”
I swallowed. Somehow, this grand adventure felt like a trap.