15
Soulshrou d
A fter a very good meal and a hard-fought conversation, we managed to stay the night on the island. I was not going to deny that I was very content with the verdict, because I really wanted to walk these streets at dawn.
Apparently, The Mariner's Mirage belonged to Ela Treasures, and when we were getting up to our rooms, she began to tell me the story of how she won the tavern in a game from an old man who used it to store his loots and sell poor girls, who were just looking for a place to stay or a ship to sail on, to drunk sailors.
“I knew I had to buy that damn tavern from the first moment I stepped foot onto this island. I was fifteen years old when I had no choice but to cross those doors, and when I saw what it really was, I swore to myself to get all the girls out of there,” she told me. “I didn't have any money, so I got the tavern by damaging what hurts a man the most, his ego. I challenged him to a game of dice and obviously he couldn't say no. He was so angry for loosing his tavern to a woman, he didn't even realize that by giving me the keys, he was also giving me all his treasures.”
When we got to her room, she turned to face me and ended up saying with a sad smile and ironic voice, “And that's how I ended misogyny and got rich.” But when I was about to open my mouth to respond, she entered the room and muttered, “I sadly didn’t, of course. But I guess it’s true that I became rich… And ended up getting a pretty fantastic name.”
“That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard anyone do,” I said to her, because I truly, truly believed it.
She closed the door and sat in the bed with a soft laugh. “You haven't heard many legendary stories then, Pink Arrow. I just got lucky in a game.”
I sat down next to her and said, “I have read many books throughout my life, I have admired many people who live between words and pages, and I’ve never thought that people like that would exist in real life. But I have never admired anyone as much as I do you now. And you are real. So I guess they do exist, and you are one of them.”
She looked at me with a genuine, contagious smile. “There's still a lot to do out there.”
I nodded. “I’ll be glad to follow you to that battle, if you let me.”
“Aye,” she muttered. “I could use some of those pink arrows of yours.”
The night passed quickly and I found myself looking out of one of the room windows to watch the sun rise on Isla Loro .
It was just how I imagined. Through the window, the scene outside unfolded like a gentle watercolor painting where the streets buzzed softly with life. Pastel hues of blue, baby pink, and white, bathed the island in a serene glow, as if the very air was infused color.
The stalls lining the cobblestone streets were vibrant in their simplicity, displaying shells and starfish that gleamed under the soft sunlight, each piece a treasure from the ocean’s depths.
Gone was the music that had drifted through the air last night, replaced now by the comforting hum of conversation. Laughter bubbled up like waves kissing the shore, mingling with the occasional shout of a vendor. It was a different kind of music, a daytime melody woven from the sounds of life in motion, yet so peaceful in its on way.
The smell of the ocean was ever-present, wrapping around everything like a familiar embrace. It carried the scent of salt and seaweed, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of fresh seafood grilling nearby. The breeze brought it all together, cool and refreshing, a reminder of the endless blue that surrounded the island.
As I stood by the window, the world beyond it seemed almost dreamlike, as though this moment was meant to be savored—a perfect blend of colors, sounds, and scents that painted the island with a peaceful vibrancy, just waiting to be explored.
“C’mon, I want to take you somewhere,” said Ela behind me.
I turned around excited and she laughed.
“Do you like dresses?” she said with a smirk .
I nodded with a smile, and followed her outside.
While I walked the magical streets and stepped on the blue and pink lights of the ground that the sun reflected from the shells, I put my hands in my pockets and found the dagger that Captain Pierce gave me before coming to the island.
“I really still don’t understand why the captain doesn’t like it here,” I said out loud to Ela. “He even said this place is ruled by Mornatos.”
“Calico?” She looked at me as we walked, and I nodded. “You have to be careful, Pink Arrow. Just because something is beautiful doesn't mean it wasn't built out of hate.”
I looked at our surroundings, to the peace that this place unleashed, and then at Ela, confused.
“Pirates took the streets of Loro the year the Law of No Seas was proclaimed. They drove out all its inhabitants, either by force or deception, and they made a deal with Mornatos. He would protect this island with his magic in exchange of eternal nightmares. He cursed every pirate who raised the entry arch with vivid and terrifying nightmares for the rest of their life. That's why this island is always alive and awake, especially at night.”
I looked at the ground perplexed by the story. I couldn’t imagine that something so beautiful had brought so much tragedy.
“Look on the bright side, Donna. At least we have a place to take refuge without being hunted for being pirates. Some men were brave or foolish enough to make a deal with Death years ago, and today we have a place we can call home. ”
“Why didn’t the captain want to spend the night?” I asked, almost whispering, fearing the worst.
“He designed the arch,” she said, and then stopped in the middle of the street.
“What?”
“Art is what moves him. You must have heard stories about him and his obsession with it.”
When she saw me nod, she continued, “Since he was little he began to paint and outline statues. His father used to sell the sketches to the highest bidder, and that is how they got into piracy, stealing real and famous artworks from all the Four Kingdoms of Marethys and selling them for a ridiculous sum of gold.”
“Captain Tristan Pierce,” I muttered.
Ela nodded. “What do you know about him?”
“I read some things… About stolen art and a secret island. But I don’t know enough.”
“He was one of the pirates who made the pact with Mornatos. Calico was ten years old when his father forced him to design that arch.”
“Gods.”
“Fifteen years of nightmares. But he never has them on board The Rebecca, because of Ventus.”
“Because of the sails?”
Ela shook her head. “He has Ventus’ favor.”
“Him?”
“The sails were only a gift. In some way we don't know, he got the favor of the God of the winds. So as long as the wind blows, he will always be protected. That's why he has to spend the nights at sea, aboard his beloved ship, on deck. Where the wind is always present.”
“We shouldn’t have spent the night here, I didn’t know.”
“Oh, we would have anyway." She chuckled. "He always gives in, he knows how much we love it here. Calico is a very good captain, for him family comes first, always. He would rather sleep in the port one night and see us happy and pleased, than force us to stay in the island for just a couple of hours and then leave, he knows that’s cruel. Being here for just moments is like touching the sky for a while, kissing the glory, and instantly vanishing without knowing if you will feel it again, because you could die at sea, and never set foot in this place again”
A minute of silence passed through us, when I finally dared to ask, “What is with The Vile Phantom? Why do you all—”
“Treasures!” A screaming deep voice behind me interrupted.
When I turned, I was greeted by a pirate leaning out of the door of what looked like a clothing store. His face was adorned with shimmering makeup, a dazzling blend of purples and silvers that caught the light with every movement, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His eyes were lined with kohl, accentuating their intensity, while the sparkling powder dusted across his cheekbones and forehead added an otherworldly gleam, as if he were kissed by the stars themselves.
His outfit was a riot of colors and textures. A vibrant coat, embroidered with intricate patterns in gold thread, hung loosely over his frame, the deep purples, reds, and blues mingling together in a chaotic harmony.
Beneath the coat, his shirt was a striking shade of teal, tucked into pants that were a patchwork of bright fabrics, each piece telling a story of plundered treasure from distant lands.
He left the store and walked towards us. Jewelry clinked with every step he took—rings on nearly every finger, layered necklaces that ranged from delicate chains to bold, chunky pieces, and earrings that dangled like the spoils of the sea. His hair, wild and unruly, framed his face in dark curls, a few strands intertwined with colourful beads that fluttered in the ocean breeze.
“You finally have the decency to show up,” he said with a strong voice.
I couldn’t tell if he was mad or glad to see Ela, but once he approached us, I could see his face more clearly and I tried to decipher it, but he was only wearing a smirk like another decoration complementing the makeup that adorned his deep caramel complexion.
That smile brought a softness that contrasted beautifully with the sharpness in his dark brown eyes, making him look both approachable and formidable.
Ela instantly took out her pistol and pointed it at his face.
“My friend is here, I hope you don't bring up business.”
He laughed and took three steps forward, colliding his forehead with the tip of the pistol. “It’s always business if you are involved, Starfire. ”
“I need Seafarer’s Thread for no more than an hour. Everything we take, I'll pay you. As always.”
He tilted his head to the side, and whispered, “Not always.”
He then faced me, with Ela's pistol still grazing his head. “You know, there was this time in which she lost a bet and I'm still waiting for her to pay up, so technically—”
Ela moved the gun up towards the sky and fired. The man didn't even flinch, he just smirked.
“I said no business,” Ela said, pointing the gun at him again.
He laughed, and still looking at me, he asked her, “So, who’s your friend?”
“Too pretty for you,” she responded at the same time she put away the gun.
The man laughed again and put his hands up as if he were surrendering in battle. “And who isn’t, Starfire?”
“I’m Donna,” I said, offering him my hand. He looked down at it and chuckled.
“Never give a pirate your hand,” he said as he took my hand, quickly grabbed my elbow, and pushed me forward, whispering, “They’ll take your entire arm.”
He introduced himself with a kiss on my hand. “I’m Raaq. But I’m sure you heard about me.” When he saw the confusion on my face, he continued, “Raaq of the Glittering Sea? No?”
“No one calls you that,” muttered Ela, and I smiled.
“Raaq the Gilded?” I shook my head. “Shimmering Raaq?” Again, I shook my head.
“Raaq the Luminous? No? Raaq the Prism! ”
I laughed at his enthusiasm, but I really had never heard of that name before.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t,” I muttered.
He quickly looked at Ela with widened eyes, and said smiling, “Did she just apologize?”
Ela smiled. “She does that a lot.”
“Pirates apologize too, you know?” I said, taking my hand from his grip.
Both of them looked at each other for a second and then said at the same time something like, “I’ve never heard one,” and “I haven’t come across any of that kind yet.”
“Really? I think it’s very common. People apologize.”
“Not pirates, no,” said Ela with a playful smile.
“Well, there was this one time,” said Raaq, looking at her. “Refresh my memory, Starfire, would you?”
“I know you are not about to say what I think you are,” she said between her teeth.
“You apologized once, now that I remember.”
“For not killing you, surely.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Their argument was as ridiculous as it was amusing—a clash of quick wit and stubbornness over something utterly trivial, yet they both seemed to revel in it.
They kept talking and I kept looking at them, every retort was met with an equally sharp comeback, each more exaggerated than the last, until it was impossible to tell who was more entertained by the exchange, them or me .
I cleared my throat and both of them faced me. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to interrupt.”
“She did it again,” he said with an ironic voice.
“You are impossible.” Ela rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, Pink Arrow. We’ll go somewhere else,” she announced, and started walking.
“Wait!”
She stopped at Raaq’s voice.
“Pink Arrow?” he asked.
Ela nodded.
“Gods. That’s quite interesting,” he said, looking at me up and down. “It would be nice if a legend wore one of my dresses.”
“You let us in, then?” asked Ela, slowly approaching him.
He nodded, and Ela winked at me while silently mouthing, “men.” And with that, we started walking to the store.
People were passing by, but even from here my eyes caught a flash of color that stood out even among the vibrant stalls and busy streets, as if the shop itself couldn’t contain the riot of hues within. The storefront was a kaleidoscope of colors, bolts of fabric in every shade imaginable draped across the entrance like a welcoming embrace. Rich purples, deep blues, and fiery reds mingled with softer pastels, creating a vivid tapestry that danced in the ocean breeze. Above the door, a hand-painted sign swung gently, the letters of Seafarer’s Thread scrawled in elegant, gold script, glinting under the sunlight. As we got closer and both Ela and Raaq got in, I stepped closer behind them, peering inside through the open doorway. The interior was no less dazzling—a treasure trove of clothing and accessories that seemed to shimmer with a life of their own. The walls were lined with garments that looked as if they had been plundered from every corner of Marethys—silken scarves, embroidered jackets, and boots adorned with intricate patterns that whispered tales of distant lands.
When I entered, I could sense an energy about the place, a magnetic pull that drew me in, making me want to explore every part of it, touch every fabric, and perhaps uncover a hidden gem of my own. This was no ordinary shop—it was a vibrant, living thing, a reflection of the pirate who owned it and the colorful world he inhabited.
As I stood there, taking it all in, I couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement, as if stepping into Seafarer’s Thread was like embarking a new adventure.
“Coco!” I turned to the voice. “Coco!”
Perched atop a vibrant rack of scarves, I found a pink parrot that really was an unexpected splash of whimsy in the already colorful shop. Its feathers were a soft, delicate pink, with subtle streaks of white and hints of peach that shimmered when it moved. The bird’s beady eyes, bright and inquisitive, seemed to take in everything around it with a playful curiosity. Every few moments, it would tilt its head, puff up its chest, and squawk in a surprisingly clear voice, “Coco! Coco!” The word echoed again through the shop, its tone somehow both commanding and endearing, as if the parrot was trying to remind every one of something important—though what that could be was anyone’s guess. The parrot constant repetition of “Coco” added a quirky rhythm to the shop’s atmosphere, a sound that became almost musical against the backdrop of rustling fabric and the occasional jingle of jewelry. It was as if the bird had claimed that single word as its own, a mantra or perhaps a name, and it repeated it with such enthusiasm that I couldn’t help but smile every time I heard it.
I approached the beautiful pink parrot and I stroked its head with my index finger. The feathers were soft and the little face of satisfaction it gave me warmed my heart, so I smiled and whispered a soft greeting.
I was expecting to hear another “Coco” but instead it said, “Pretty!”
“She likes you,” said Raaq behind me. “Please take her with you.”
I laughed at the command. “Isn’t she yours?”
“She’s a free parrot. Comes to the store day and night, I guess because the colors call her. I don’t even know what she’s saying or what she wants.”
“I think what she wants to say it’s co—”
“Coconut!” the pink parrot interrupted me.
I laughed, and Raaq rolled his eyes while saying, “It’s so great that you both understand each other,” he said ironically.
“Imagine how miserable she will be here with me. You need to take her with you or the continuous regret of having left her here will eat you alive.”
“Stop blackmailing her, you insolent.” Ela grabbed my hand quickly and directed me to the centerpiece of the store, where a grand mirror stood against the far wall .
Its frame was a masterpiece of intricate carvings, depicting scenes of ships battling fierce waves and creatures of the deep. The glass itself was slightly fogged with age but still clear enough to reflect the entirety of the room in its depths. It was a mirror that seemed to hold secrets, showing not just the reflection of the present, but hinting at the stories and lives that had passed before it.
“The Tidal Glass,” said Ela behind me.
I could see her reflection in the mirror as she continued speaking, “Have you heard of it?”
I shook my head. I was still speechless of how beautiful it was.
“It belonged to an ancient astronomer who studied the Romantic Order. It was believed that burned in the Cleansing of 1720 with other artworks, but Calico found it somewhere in Pearlspire. He managed to restore it and gave it to me when I first joined the crew. He told me that it was once the door that hid piracy from the eyes of hypocrites, so I guess I kept its function.” She took a step forward and grabbed the mirror on one side and opened it as if it were a door.
Inside, was a little room tucked away behind the vibrant display of the shop.
It felt like stepping into a secret trove of a pirate’s most prized possessions, and I couldn’t help but to think how I’d been entering secret places since I arrived at this island.
The room was a dark contrast to the lively, chaotic colors outside. Here, the air was thick with the scent of old leather, sea salt, and the faint metallic tang of well-used weapons. The walls were a collage of adventure, lined with ancient romantic maps that I couldn’t help but wonder where they got them from, since everything related to the Romantic Order was long time ago burned.
Between the maps, wanted posters of infamous pirates were tacked up haphazardly, their weathered paper curling at the edges as if they had been hastily pinned after a close encounter with the law. Every surface in the room was draped or stacked with a dazzling array of items—a true hoarder’s delight. Clothes in rich, dark fabrics and vibrant silks spilled from open trunks and hung from hooks, while racks of jewelry glittered under the warm, dim light.
Rings encrusted with jewels, necklaces of gold and silver, and bracelets studded with gemstones jostled for space, their allure impossible to ignore.
“This bastard,” Ela muttered, searching through the jewels. She took out some small gold hoops that looked like little rings with different designs, and began to tangle them in strands of her dark hair. “Take whatever you want, he won’t care.”
“Raaq is very generous,” I said, walking towards Ela, touching some of the fabric and dresses on my way. I really wanted to try and get out of her who he truly was, because whatever I witnessed before, had me smiling like a fool.
“He’s a pirate, Donna. All of this previously belonged to someone else. He only steals and makes those things prettier because he likes it. He’s not generous . ”
“And why does he hide it here and not leave it in the store for everyone to see?”
“These are things that he sees and thinks I might like, that's why he keeps them here, in my hiding place.”
I looked at her with widened eyes and a smirk.
“Quit it. We have a sort of deal.”
“Mhm,” I muttered my affirmation as I look at the clothes and jewelry. “He’s pretty handsome,” I said, looking at her.
She rolled her eyes. “He’s a man.”
I looked at her with a questioning smile, and she seemed to notice something in my eyes, because she was suddenly saying, “You need to stop with that look. The captain was right, you have some kind of power.”
At the mention of Captain Pierce and the power of my gaze in the same sentence, my stomach flipped, and I busied myself with one of the dresses.
She smirked. “Are you not gonna ask?”
“I don’t follow,” I said, almost too quickly.
“Don’t you want to know why the captain was talking about your eyes?”
A sudden warmth spread through my chest. A mix of emotions tumbled inside of me—excitement, surprise, and a touch of disbelief.
“You must have misheard,” I said, trying to leave the nervous feeling behind.
“Oh, I certainly didn’t. I heard perfectly how he warned us about your, and I quote verbatim"—she started making gestures with her index and middle fingers, as if she were reciting and quoting a phrase from a book—“pools of liquid amber, warm and inviting that I still can’t yet understand.”
My heart fluttered, quick and light, and for a moment I almost felt breathless, as if the world had just shifted slightly on its axis. He surely didn’t say that. Did he? Gods. The thought made my cheeks flush with a warmth I knew I couldn’t quite hide. My thoughts raced, turning over the possibilities of what he could have possibly seen or even thought.
“He was certainly drunk,” I said, evading her stare as I quickly pulled out a beautiful pink dress.
She laughed. “The captain doesn't drink.”
I looked at her with inquisitive eyes.
“Although, he takes some strange potion Alastair makes to help him sleep every night and avoid nightmares just in case, so maybe that was the reason he was thinking about your pools of liquid amber ,” she said, laughing.
“You are teasing!” I threw the dress at her face, and she laughed even harder.
“You were turning the color of that hideous parrot!” She laughed, and it was a laugh so contagious I couldn’t contain myself either.
“I can’t believe you were lying.”
“Why, because you so desperately wanted it to be true?”
We continued laughing and she kept putting those golden tiny rings in her hair .
“You do realize that you made that up just because I suggested that you perhaps want to kiss Raaq?”
She gasped in surprise and ran two steps to cover my mouth with her hand. “You never said something like that, and you never will again.”
I kept laughing, her hand stopping the sound.
“You are trouble, Pink Arrow.” She took a step back and smiled. And I suddenly felt an unexpected joy blossoming in my chest as we laughed together. It was a light, almost giddy sensation, like discovering a hidden shell in a shore where I never thought to look.
As our laughters faded into a comfortable silence, I realized with a soft, content sigh that this easy companionship was something I’d been missing. It was as if the world felt a little more welcoming. For the first time in a long time, since Diego stopped accompanying me to the shore and we stopped laughing like this, I felt the simple, pure comfort of belonging, of having someone by my side who understood me, and it was a feeling I was eager to hold onto.
“Do you like this one?” she asked, picking up the pink dress I threw at her from the floor. “Put it on, it screams your name.” She handed it to me with a smile.
“Can I, really?” I whispered.
Ela laughed. “Unless you want to live in Efren's clothes forever. ”
When I was already changed into the dress and Ela gave me a few compliments on how I looked, I went out of the secret room to see myself in the mirror.
The dress was so simple yet the most magical I had ever seen. It was a delicate shade of baby pink, as if it had been kissed by the first light of dawn. The fabric was soft and airy, whispering over my skin like a gentle caress. I ran my fingers down the smooth bodice, tracing the elegant lace that framed my curves, pulling my waist into a perfectly cinched shape. The corset, laced with ribbons as pale as a blush, was tight but not uncomfortable; it made me stand taller in a way, prouder, like I was indeed ready to command the world. To set sail to the horizon without fear and never return.
The off-shoulder sleeves draped gracefully over my arms, puffy but not too much, with just a hint of flirtation in the way they exposed my collarbones. I couldn’t help but smile at how they gave me an almost ethereal look, like something out of a love story. The skirt cascaded down in soft, flowing waves, pooling at my feet like the calm tide on a tranquil beach. Every movement I made sent the ruffles into a gentle sway, creating a sense of effortless grace that I never knew I possessed.
I turned slightly, catching sight of the delicate ribbons tied at the back, forming a bow that was almost too pretty to be real.
The way the fabric caught the light made it shimmer softly, like the surface of the ocean under a setting sun. As I twirled, the dress followed, a perfect swirl of pastel pink that made it feel as if the dress was alive, responding to my every thought and emotion .
I felt a surge of confidence, something I wasn’t expecting. In this dress, I wasn’t just myself—I was something more, something brighter, as if all the hopes and dreams I ever had were woven into the fabric.
Looking at myself in The Tidal Glass, once the door that hid piracy from the eyes of hypocrites, I truly believed it. Because in that instant, I found myself staring at the reflection of a pirate whom I was always a little hypocritical to see if she did not carry a fearsome saber nor had she lived thousands adventures. But this was me, in a beautiful simple dress that I could have perfectly worn so many times around the palace, when I believed myself to be a soul in disgrace for not standing up to The Crown and setting sail with a feared ship and crew. For not giving glory to my last name, for not believing me a pirate for the simple fact of wearing dresses and shooting arrows.
And now I was wearing a dress, and shooting arrows, and being a pirate.
“That is a very dangerous dress, love.”
I turned around to find Captain Pierce leaning on the wall.
My cheeks immediately flushed red as I thought of how long had he been standing there, staring.
He took a step forward. “Have you ever heard the legend of the Soulshroud?”
Of course I did. As a girl educated in the art of sewing and raised for six years by a seamstress, it was the only story I heard every night. The legend about an enigmatic weaver and sorceress that crafted a relic with both fabric and fate and imbued it with the essence of truth.
I nodded, and he raised his eyebrows as if he was waiting for me to start telling the story.
“Legends say a powerful sorceress wove it from threads of her own soul, a sacrifice that bound that garment to the deepest truths of those who wore it,” I said.
“A dress,” he muttered, stepping forward again, and I could feel his breathing from how close he was standing now.
“Turn around,” he said, so softly, that I felt as if a stream of cold water ran through my body, making me catch a big breath, like it happened every time he whispered.
I turned around, and I stared at the reflection. Me in the pink dress with my cheeks flushed, and him standing behind me, tall enough to make me look up. And then he started saying, very gently, “The Soulshroud was designed to reveal the wearer’s true nature—stripping away lies, disguises, and even illusions of grandeur.”
Every word was like a tender breath on my neck. So low and feebly, that I had to clench my fists tightly just to feel myself holding on to something, to be sure that I was really on land and not floating with the waves.
He must have noticed my clenched fists and the nervous change in my breathing, because I saw the corners of his mouth rise into one of those smiles of his, and with his tattooed hand, he brushed my hair back very slowly, following the length of my locks all over my back with his finger, as he continued to whisper ,
“Only those pure of heart could wear the Soulshroud without fear.” His hand returned to my neck, touching my birthmark with his thumb delicately. “For it would lay bare the very core of their being for all to see… So tell me, love, who are you really?”
And with that, he blew a faint, whispering breeze, which made me inhale sharply as I felt the cold breath of air and the sudden hot throb in my neck.
I took a step back with a hand covering my neck, not wanting anyone to see the little heart birthmark that I knew was shining. Like it happened last night.
And finally, I could verbalize the question that had been on my mind since then, “Why does that keep happening?”
He shook his head and said, his voice firm and eyes mysterious, words that seemed weaved from a prophecy, “The sea’s restless heart finds solace in the wind’s tender touch.”
My gaze kept skittering away, drawn to the sharp line of his face but never quite daring to meet his eyes. The intensity in those depths was like a searing brand, and I felt the weight of it pressed against me like a physical force. Each time I tried to look up, his eyes seemed to pierce through me, revealing more than I was ready to confront. He was searching for my gaze, moving his face, like he was trying so desperately to reveal the secret but giving me a chance to do it instead.
“Don’t you see?” he said. “Don’t you feel it?”
My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a staccato rhythm of anxious anticipation .
“Dara was right. You are the compass. And I am the key to unlock it.”
The air between us crackled with unspoken questions, and I found myself lost in the stir of emotions that danced in his unwavering stare.
“Why?” I asked, quietly.
The movement of his shoulders and the shaking of his head confirmed to me that he didn't have the answer to that question either. But not knowing it didn't seem to bring him the fear I was somehow experiencing. Because he smiled. A kind of grin that hinted at hidden plans and unspoken challenges, as if he couldn’t wait to dive headfirst into what was about to come, whatever it might be. A smile that held the promise of excitement and the thrill of danger.
And with that same smile, he said, “But wouldn’t you love to know?”