Chapter Twenty-one
I try and try but never manage to fall asleep.
My mind won’t stop recalling the moment Taron pinned me to the floor, his blue irises burning with an anger I still don’t fully understand.
Each time I glance over at him, lying with his back to me, I wonder if he’s really asleep, or pretending.
Did he believe me when I said I didn’t use my talents on him, or could he feel the missing weight of his inner demons, a small part of them now taking root inside my own mind?
Somewhere through the night, the Sea of Storms seems to ease in fury, and the creaks and groans of The Leviathan subside. When, finally, I’m unable to stand the suffocating stillness any longer, I throw my blanket off and slip out of bed.
The cool air of the cabin bites at my skin as I quietly get dressed in the dark, pulling the tight green uniform over my tired body and pinning the shimmering golden brooch bearing the Astralorian insignia I got from Madame Vera near my collar.
The uniform feels strange, like a second skin. I’m not cold, but I miss the weight of clothes. At least the boots are sturdy, laced high, and the utility belt hangs snugly around my waist. I load it with the rest of my bag’s contents: a small flask, a few rolls of bandages and two healing tonics.
My fingers brush over the empty weapon slot, but my trusty shears nonetheless find their home in the side of my boot – it would feel wrong keeping them anywhere else. Reaching down for them is second nature to me, an instinctive reaction I’ll no doubt need in this tournament.
I open the cabin door as quietly as the old ship allows, and softly slip out into the narrow corridor. The door groans, and I glance over my shoulder at Taron.
He’s still facing the wall, his breathing steady but shallow.
His legs twitch lightly beneath the sheets, as though he’s still fighting something in his dreams. From this angle, I can see his brows are furrowed, lips parting in soundless whispers.
I leave him to sleep, padding quietly through the competitors’ quarters in search of some fresh air.
By the time I reach the upper deck, the night is beginning to fade and I’m greeted by a quiet that seems to stretch for ever. The waves, wild and crashing all night, are now gentle, lapping placidly against the ship’s hull in rhythmic swells.
The Sea of Storms has lost its rage, and for the first time, the water is still enough for me to see the sky reflected on its surface – a deep blue speckled with stars, slowly brightening with streaks of gold and pink.
There’s no sign of the crew. No overzealous competitors camping out in their uniforms, ready to dash off at a moment’s notice.
I move to the nearest railing and lean forward. The fresh air is everything I need to calm myself. It’s cool, carrying the scent of salt and something clean, something more hopeful than yesterday.
My eyes search the horizon. In the distance, barely more than a shadow against the brightening sky, I can make out the shape of Aurora Isle. It’s small, much smaller than I thought, almost indistinguishable against the dawn.
I close my eyes and steel myself. I need to be strong. Fearless. I need to keep my focus on the life I’m fighting for. I’m coming for you, sister.
The sound of footsteps behind me breaks through my thoughts. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Taron. His presence is familiar by now. He’s not as good as he used to be at hiding his emotions from me.
This morning, the energy coming off him is subtle. A murky grey, almost ashen. It tastes salty, like tears, with a faint smell of mildew. I’m used to the smell of shame.
Elara used to reek of it, each time she returned from work at the bakery, with a tray full of pies and a dock in pay for not managing to sell out. Her boss was wicked like that, but she endured it for the sake of her passion.
Taron comes to stand beside me, his gaze also fixed on the distant island. Seconds pass and neither of us speaks.
The soft murmur of the sea fills the space between us, The Leviathan placidly rocking beneath our feet.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Taron says, his voice quiet, almost lost to the ocean breeze.
My grip on the railing tightens, something – not quite a breath – catching in my sternum. I turn my head to look at him.
The gentle rays of daybreak soften his features, casting shadows over the hard lines of his face. But I can see the purple kiss of exhaustion around his eyes. The tug of regret pulling his brows together. It’s subtle, hidden behind the walls he’s built to guard himself, but it’s real.
“I know,” I say softly.
We stand in silence for a few more moments. I watch as his shoulders tense and relax, as though he’s battling with himself to find the right words.
But my stare lingers longer than intended as I take in his uniform, the way it moulds perfectly to his lithe body, hugging his chest and tapering at his waist.
The shiny fabric moves with the smallest adjustment of his muscles, and it’s the insignificant small details that keep me transfixed: the crease where the fabric gathers at his elbow, the shift in his posture as he adjusts his utility belt.
There’s something intriguing, too, about the brooch pinned near his collar – how it draws attention to his Adam’s apple, and the veins in his neck, only barely visible under his pale skin.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Taron says. “I don’t want to be like that.”
“I wasn’t trying to pry into your head. I just…” I hesitate, unable to bring myself to tell him the truth. He can’t know I used my talents on him. Not yet, anyway. Not when we still have two more trials ahead of us. I need him to trust me. “Like I said, I thought you were having a nightmare.”
“It’s dangerous to get too close to me. When I’m sleeping, I mean.”
I hold his stare, enjoying the way the wind tousles his violet locks. “What about when you’re awake? Is it dangerous to get close to you, then?”
He blinks at me in surprise, lips slightly parted. In that fleeting second, his expression is raw, vulnerable. I want to reach out and touch his cheek. Bridge the space between us.
But I don’t. Instead, I turn my gaze back to the sea.
The sun has risen higher now, bathing the water in gold and setting the sky on fire. In the distance, Aurora Isle is a little clearer – still too far to pick out details along the shore, but close enough to feel more real.
The dawn is beautiful, and for a moment, I forget where we are, soaking in the peace of the morning.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Taron says, finally breaking the silence with an answer to my question. “Everyone close to me always seems to get hurt. Or worse.”
I nod, my lips curving into a small, sad smile. “I suppose that makes two of us.”
“I’m sorry.”
I gulp, but his apology continues to hang, fragile and genuine, swelling at the back of my throat like a bitter pill that doesn’t want to go down.
How is it possible that this is the same Taron – the same man who took Elara’s body from me without a shred of remorse, who stood silent while Madame Vera ripped apart lives like they were nothing?
And yet, here he is, looking at me like this. Like he’s capable of feeling. Like he’s capable of guilt.
I want to believe him, but then I remember the visions. I see him again, looming tall over the bloody man, his boot pressing down as if crushing something insignificant. The vacant look in his eyes, the same look I saw that night in the cottage. Cold. Empty.
I glance down at his hand resting on the railing beside mine, our fingers almost touching.
My knuckles twitch, and I want to pull away, but I stay still, frozen by the confusing storm he stirs inside me.
What if the Taron in front of me now is a lie?
What if the real Taron is the one I saw in those visions, and all this – the apology, the softness – is just another game orchestrated by Madame Vera?
A way to manipulate me and make me lower my guard. I can’t tell.
And that terrifies me.
I can’t help it. I want to understand him, even as everything in me screams to run.
Before I can reconsider, I reach out and brush my hand against his. It’s a small gesture, but in this moment, it feels like enough.
“If you could disappear,” I ask. “If you could get away from it all and go anywhere, where would it be?”
Taron tilts his head, his brow furrowing. He lets out a breath and glances at the horizon where the sky meets the sea.
I wait in silence.
“There’s this place,” he says after a pause. “A market town along the southern coast of Wrisha. It’s called Brim.”
I didn’t expect him to have an answer so readily. “What’s it like?”
Taron’s lips twitch in the ghost of a smile.
“I’ve never been there myself, but I’ve heard stories.
Sailors say it’s the last place before the world ends.
There’s no grand palace or legendary tower.
It’s just … people. A place where ships come and go, where no one stays long enough to leave a mark. ”
“What kind of people?”
“Merchants, sailors, drifters. People who don’t ask questions. It’s the kind of town where you can be anyone or no one, and no one cares. Everyone’s too busy moving on to their next destination.”
He speaks of it like it’s a dream. This quiet, almost transient place where you can disappear into the crowd, where the world doesn’t weigh so heavily on your shoulders, and you can exist in your own skin.
“It sounds…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Free.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Taron’s smile fades as fleetingly as it forms. “Free.”