Jade
In the hours that pass, it’s like someone keeps taking the night sky, shaking it like a snow globe, and scattering stars in places they don’t belong.
“There.” Callie points overhead. “The cluster of a serpent eating its tail.”
Evie leans over the charts, her finger tracing invisible lines. “That’s the Ouroboros formation that appears every one hundred and thirteen minutes. Which means we need to head...” She squints at the sky, then back at the paper. “Southeast. I think.”
“You think?” Kieran says dryly.
“The charts are three hundred years old and written in Latin.” Evie doesn’t look up. “I’m doing my best.”
“Latin.” He says it like he’s appraising a weapon. “I didn’t realize you were armed with a dead language.”
“It’s syntax, not steel.” She pauses for a beat. “Although both are capable of causing ungodly amounts of pain.”
They continue like that as I gaze at the ever-changing stars, trying and failing to make sense of them.
I’ve reorganized my rings four times, braided and unbraided my hair twice, and counted the planks on the deck.
Nothing’s stopping me from replaying that conversation with Logan below deck over and over again, remembering the heat in his gaze when he looked down at me, the hunger when he kissed me, and the way I wanted him even more after his confession, even though I know I shouldn’t.
Logan’s been at the helm, steering wherever Callie and Evie tell him to, his jaw set in that hard line that means he’s running calculations he doesn’t want to share. Every time I try to catch his eye, he’s suddenly fascinated by the horizon, or the sails, or literally anything that isn’t me.
“Wait.” Callie straightens. “I think I see something.”
I move to the railing, squinting into the darkness.
“Is that land?”
It emerges from the mist like a paradise rising from the water, silhouetted against the star-scattered sky.
As we get closer, details start to take shape. Cliffs rise from the water, trees crowd the slopes, and a beach glows pale in the starlight.
“Aeaea,” Evie says barely above a whisper, her hands shaking as she gathers the charts. “We made it.”
My lungs stop functioning, because the hope in her eyes will be snuffed out when she learns Oliver isn’t here.
Callie guides us into a natural cove that creates a sheltered harbor, and Kieran jumps over the hull to secure us to a rock formation that looks like it was designed for this purpose.
He, Evie, and I step onto the beach. Logan and Callie stay on the boat, prepared to get us out of here fast if something goes wrong.
“Stay alert.” Kieran scans the tree line, his dagger ready. “We don’t know what—”
Rustling from the trees cuts him off.
My hand finds my own dagger. It’s the one Kieran gave me the first day at the Scorched Circles, and the leather grip is warm, familiar in a way that’s almost comforting.
The rustling gets louder.
Then, dozens of animals emerge. Wolves, lions, deer, foxes and others I don’t have names for, all of them padding along the beach like a welcoming committee of prey and predators.
“Don’t move,” Kieran says, low and steady. “Let them approach first.”
A giant wolf comes my way, looking up at me with eyes that are way too intelligent. It’s like it’s sizing me up, deciding if I’m worth its time.
Apparently I pass the test, because it huffs and moves on to Evie, who’s being circled by three foxes. She’s standing frozen, her hands by her sides, but there’s wonder in her eyes instead of fear.
“They’re Circe’s,” she explains, keeping her voice soft. “Legends say they were men once. Sailors who landed on her shores and displeased her.”
A massive lion pads past me, close enough that its fur brushes my arm. I hold my breath, waiting for teeth, or claws, or whatever lions do when they attack.
It keeps walking.
Okay. This is fine. The murder cats are friendly. Everything is totally normal.
One by one, the animals inspect us, and one by one, they seem to decide we’re acceptable. Now they’re standing and sitting across from us on the beach, as if they’re waiting for us to make the next move.
I glance at Logan and Callie to see if they’re coming.
Logan’s standing near the railing, looking like he’s about to step off onto the beach. Then he shudders, and his eyes do that distant, flickering thing that happens when he’s burning through time.
It only lasts a second. A person wouldn’t notice if they weren’t looking for it.
“I’ll stay back and guard the boat,” he says, flat and controlled. “So I can make sure no one steals it while you’re looking for Circe.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Callie says from where she’s standing near the bow, her arms crossed, her eyes locked on Logan. There’s a soft, possessive note in her voice that makes my fingers itch with the urge to spark.
I wait for Logan to tell her he can handle it alone and that she should go with us.
Instead, he just nods, as if staying back on a boat with his ex-girlfriend while the rest of us explore a sorceress’s island is totally normal and okay.
My chest burns. Lightning crackles from my fingertips to my elbows.
But what am I supposed to do? There’s no way I’m staying back with them.
I need to find Circe and ask about T. I need as much information from her about what happened to me as I can get, and I need to know what to expect next as a goddess’s chosen champion.
She might not have the answers, but I need to try.
Callie shoots me a satisfied smirk.
Logan won’t look at me.
“Fine,” I say, the word sharp as I get my magic under control. “Kieran, Evie, and I will find Circe. You two stay here. On the boat. Together.”
Finally, Logan’s eyes meet mine. The weight of unspoken words hangs between us, but whatever it is, he swallows it down.
“Be careful,” he says, barely getting the words out.
“We will.” I straighten my shoulders, forcing myself to look away from him.
Evie’s already moving to the tree line, practically vibrating with barely contained hope. Kieran falls into step beside her, his dagger up and ready, his eyes scanning for threats.
I follow them, but I can’t help glancing back.
Logan’s standing at the helm of the ship, his silhouette dark against the star-scattered sky. Callie’s already moved closer to him, leaning in to speak.
I trust him, I tell myself firmly. Even if I don’t trust her.
The thought rings hollow, and the ache beneath my ribs tells me the truth I won’t say out loud.
Because it’s not trust that’s the problem.
It’s the fear that Callie knows a version of Logan I never will—the one who chose her first, before the guilt of his parents’ deaths and the time travel that convinced him nothing has to stick.
I curl my fingers into fists until my nails bite into my palms, and the sting gives me an anchor point that isn’t the image of Callie leaning into Logan’s space like she belongs there.
You’re the storm goddess’s champion. You have an ancient sorceress to interrogate and a best friend’s dead brother to keep lying about. You do not have time to spiral over your boyfriend’s ex.
The pep talk is garbage, but it gets my feet moving.
So, I take a deep breath of salty sea air, turn around, and face the waiting forest.