17
Where the waves dance, the darkness waits
“T he map!” I said excitedly as I opened the cabin door. “I need your map.”
Two pairs of eyes greeted me. Captain Pierce and Alastair were standing around the table, staring at me as if I had interrupted something important.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Alastair’s laugh interrupted my apology as he reached for the door. He turned around, facing the captain, and said, “I will look into it.” He then looked down at me with a curious smile. “I think it's good if you first give us a direction, my captain.” And with that, he looked back at him, nodded in agreement, and exited the aft cabin.
I opened my mouth to speak but Captain Pierce raised his hand to stop me from talking, as if he was sensing I was going to apologize again .
“What is this?” he asked, pointing to the table with that same hand.
I looked down, confused, and saw the rose gold globe I took from Raaq’s shop earlier.
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh, indeed.”
“I broke one of your globes,” I justified quickly.
I began to get a bit nervous, because he was just standing there, looking at me in complete silence.
He surely recalled. Didn’t he?
“Just yesterday, when I tried to… umm… I’m sure there are still pieces on the floor from when—”
“I remember.” His eyes formed an ironic smile. “Quite vividly.”
“I just—I saw it and thought—”
“It’s pink.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh, indeed.”
He smiled, a soft genuine curve of his lips that reached his eyes, making them sparkle with a warmth that caught me off guard. I remembered the guilt, the awkward apology, and the way my heart twisted at the thought of ruining something he treasured. And he just smiled.
“If you don’t like it I could just…” I bit my lip to avoid a smile when I saw him picking it up from the table and put it on one of the shelves next to the other globes.
My eyes wandered across the shelf, a collection of sepia-toned globes neatly lined up, each one a map of The Four Kingdoms of Marethys in faded browns and dusky yellows. And then, the rose gold globe stood out like a beacon, its warm, blush tones gleaming softly against the muted background of the rest of them. It was out of place, and yet, somehow, it fit perfectly. And I couldn’t contain it anymore, the sight of it made me smile like a fool, my heart swelling with a mix of fondness and something more. Like if a piece of me now belonged in his world.
“You could just...?” he asked, still with his back turned, while placing the globe.
“I could just paint it another color, maybe.”
He dusted off his hands and turned around to face me, as he said, “What a boring statement.”
I could feel it happening again, the uncontrollable tug at the corners of my mouth. No matter how hard I tried to stifle it, the smile just kept spreading, growing wider and brighter until I felt my whole face glowing.
“You are smiling,” he said softly with an unmistakable hint of amusement in his tone.
I could now feel the heat rising to my cheeks, spreading like foam on the crest of a wave, surely turning my face a shade of pink I couldn’t hide. Was I smiling that wide? Gods, the embarrassment only made it grow more stubbornly.
“You do that a lot.” He reached to the table and opened one of the drawers, looking for something.
“Smile?” I asked.
He looked up from the drawer with a smirk. “Blush like a sunlit coral reef. ”
My eyes widened in surprise, I surely wasn’t expecting that. He was looking at my face a lot. Why did he keep staring?
The sound of the map falling on the table was what got me out of my internal nervousness.
“So,” he said, opening the map and holding the corners with shells that he had on the table. “Do we already know whether to continue straight, turn to port, or starboard?”
“That's precisely what I wanted to tell you.” I walked with confidence and certainty towards the table.
I put my index finger on the map, just on top of Isla Loro, trying to make memory of what I saw earlier in the vision.
“That is new.” I felt him muttering right behind me.
I looked back at him to ask, but the moment I opened my mouth, he was already speaking, “Your finger. It has a sea serpent.”
“Yes.” I smiled touching my finger with my other hand. “I really love it.”
“Really? Or was it Efren who talked you into it? Ela maybe.”
“No, I truly wanted to get it. It’s a decision I made for myself. It may not seem like my style or something I would do but I really love it.”
He chuckled and reached to the other side of the table. “It is, by the way.”
I looked up at him and frowned in question, and to my confused look, he said, “Your style, I mean. It suits you. Very”—he looked down to my hand—“very much. ”
And of course I could notice how my cheeks turned red, once more, because I could feel heat rushing to my face like the currents that transport marine fauna to the coast.
“You see?” he whispered. “Blushing again.”
Gods, I was mortified beyond measure.
He seemed to study my face with a precision and concentration that I had only seen in palace astronomers when they were trying to decipher the stars.
And suddenly he was smiling, as if he were reading my mind and liked what I was thinking.
The map, Lady Love.
Right. Sorry.
“Umm…” I cleared my throat and put my hand on the map. “I saw it,” I said, as if I had achieved the impossible. And honestly, I had done it a little.
“I know,” he said with a knowing smirk and a raised eyebrow.
“No, I mean I saw the map.” I stared at him confused. “Not just glimpses of the island and Thalassa’s Veil like I did in the tavern, although I have seen them too now, but a map, the map, this same map with a line drawn across it. An illuminated line that crossed islands and reefs studied by romantics.”
As I tried to finish my rambling, I looked up, only to find him gazing at me with a smile that seemed to light up his entire face. His eyes were fixed on me with a clarity that made my heartbeat quicken, their intensity both comforting and disarming.
“Like a direction,” I finished saying, my words hanging in the air like a whisper .
He kept smiling, a smile gentle but full of unspoken amusement, even I could tell. As if he found something striking in my unfiltered outburst.
“I know,” he repeated.
I was so confused. “You know.”
“I asked Ventus to send you that gust of wind, love.”
My breathing stopped and my eyes widened. Somehow, I knew I sensed him earlier, in that soft whisper above all those other voices.
“I heard you,” I muttered out loud, as if to confirm to myself that it was really true and I was not insane and imagining things. “You talked to me.”
He tilted his head and looked at me up and down with a playful smirk. “And did you like what I said?”
My cheeks betrayed me again. I felt the warmth blooming in my cheeks, as if the very air around me had become infused with a gentle heat, seeping into my skin and spreading outward.
I cleared my throat, and said briefly, “Yes, thank you.”
The curve of his lips was subtle but charged with an undeniable magnetism, as if he was in on a private joke or had just shared an unspoken understanding with me.
“And again,” he whispered with that disarming charm his voice alway carried.
I looked down at the map to escape his gaze and somehow cover my blushing cheeks.
The route, Lady Love.
Good grief, how embarrassing. “Of course, yes. Sorry. ”
He laughed. “Pardon?”
“I need you to unlock the compass once more, so I can plot the course with certainty on the map,” I stated rapidly.
He settled next to me and reached for a pen with ink. His arm brushed against me with a fleeting touch, sending a faint shiver through me. His focus was entirely on the task at hand, surely unaware of the effect his nearness had on me, but I really was having a hard time breathing.
Lady Love… The route?
“My apologies!” I said, accidentally and a little too loud, covering my mouth with my hand. Gods, what an affront to decency.
He threw his head back a little instinctively. “Everything all right?” he asked with a raised brow.
I nodded and cleared my throat. “Whenever you are ready.”
“Close your eyes then,” he said, stepping closer and giving me the pen.
I swallowed my nervousness and straightened my back, took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
And suddenly, I felt it.
A shiver ran from my neck to my spine all the way down to my heels, as his breath brushed the skin of my neck, just above the birthmark. It was soft, barely a whisper of air, but I felt it ripple through me like a promise.
He wasn't grabbing my arm, or hand, or neck, like he did in the tavern or in Raaq’s shop—he wasn’t touching me at all—but the warmth of his breath lingered, coaxing something deep within the mark to life. The sensation made my focus waver, my thoughts flickered like a flame fighting the wind, I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut as the vision began to form behind my eyelids. I started to get blinks of the island and the Veil again, but nothing more.
Beyond, Lady Love.
Thalassa’s voice echoed everywhere in my mind, making me long for that beyond. I clenched my hands into fists, gripping tightly as I tried to look for it.
The map. A route. Beyond.
Suddenly, a map, ancient and worn, stretched out before me. The very same map I knew we had in front of us on the table.And then, slowly, painfully slowly, a line began to carve its way across it, like a trail burning into my mind.
It was the route. The direction. The one we needed.
I began to smile and clenched the pen in my hand, prepared to represent it on paper. But the line blurred, fading at the edges as my concentration slipped.
Suddenly, I was very aware of my surroundings. The sounds, the creak of the ship, the sea… his lips against my neck…
My pulse quickened and my hand began to tremble a little.
“Breathe,” he whispered, so close now that I could almost feel his voice hum through me. “Tell me what you see.”
I opened my mouth, but my voice was shaky, the vision splintering like fractured glass.
“The line,” I managed to say. “It’s there, but it’s… I can’t…” I started to feel immense pressure in my chest, and I could feel how my b reathing altered. I was getting scared, because suddenly, I couldn’t scream for Thalassa, I couldn't hold on to that safety.
I didn’t know how to continue. I felt like I was trapped. That never happened before. What if I got stuck in this darkness forever?
He must have felt my panic, because suddenly, I could hear his question, very close to me but at the same time very distant.
“Can I touch you?”
I nodded quickly without thinking it twice, and he didn’t wait. His hand found mine, strong and steady, and he guided it towards the map that lay on the table before us.
I kept my eyes shut, still trapped in the hazy realm of the vision, but his touch grounded me, as though steady winds flowed through our joined hands.
“Show me,” he said softly, his fingers tightening over mine and the pen. “Tell me where it goes.”
I swallowed again, the warmth of his breath still stirring against the birthmark, his mouth so close to my neck, trying to keep the vision alive. And then I understood what I needed.
“More,” I uttered in a shaky whisper.
“More what, love?”
“Wind.”
In a heartbeat, his grasp firmed around my hand, steadied it on the map, and a new surge of air whispered against my skin. The little heart on my neck thrummed to life, and the line sharpened—but only for a moment. Then it began to blur again, the image slipping through my mind’s grasp .
But when I opened my mouth to ask for more, I heard him saying, “I know.”
In a split second, I felt the door behind us burst open with a crash. A gust of wind rushed in, wild and sudden, whipping through the room like a storm unleashed. My hair lifted with it, strands tugged free and swirling around me.
The gust hit me, surging across my skin, and in an instant, everything sharpened. The map in my vision blazed with clarity, the route carving itself before my eyes like a trail of light burning across the parchment.
The winds, chaotic but powerful, pulled me deeper into the vision. The line was vivid now—clear, defined, unmistakable.
“Show me,” he said, his voice clear.
My heart raced as I let out a breath, the vision bright and unwavering in my mind. I felt his hand tighten on mine, grounding me, guiding the movement across the paper.
“East,” I murmured, feeling his hand shift mine along the paper.
“Past the Zenith Sea. There’s a—there’s like a little mountain range rising from the water, curved like a crescent…” His hand moved with mine, tracing the line I saw in my head.
“I think… I think is Swan Rock.”
“Is that where the Veil is?” he asked softly.
“No, the line keeps going. Still east…” My breath quickened, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. I wasn’t sure if it was the power of the vision, or his breath still grazing my neck. Maybe it was both. But we were moving closer to the island, I could feel it .
The map was drawing itself—our hands, his winds, my sight—one stroke at a time.
And then he said my name, so softly and charged with confusion that I almost opened my eyes.
I hadn't heard my name come out of his mouth since I shot that arrow to The Crown’s Justice.
“Donna,” he said again, like a warning. “This can’t be.” He stopped my hand.
What was he doing? We were so close.
“Keep going,” I whispered with all the strength I had left. “We are almost there.”
“Donna.” The winds began to tremble against my skin. I started to notice an intense loss of control that caused my vision to blur.
“Please, keep going. I can’t…” I felt like everything was starting to fade, like the edges of my mind were closing. I needed more air, I needed to breathe. The sudden fear returned and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't scream for Thalassa. I couldn't feel her anywhere, only darkness, and suddenly, the horrible sound of screams.
I saw the end of the line further and further away, and no matter how hard I tried to reach it, there was something that was grabbing me, pushing me back. Little flashes and flickers of horrifying scenes began to cross my mind. Towers collapsing, death in the streets, screams, cries of pain, blood, poisoned air. It all felt very real. Too real. I couldn't breathe, I needed air.
“Please,” I cried. “It’s right there, please. ”
Terror clawed at my chest, suffocating me as the vision surged in front of my closed eyes—plagues spreading like water, entire cities consumed by flames, destruction crashing down on everything. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. My heart raced faster, pounding so violently it drowned out every other sound. I could feel the heat of the flames, hear the cries of people swallowed by the chaos.
My body trembled, but I couldn’t stop it. Tears streamed down my face, but I was trapped in the vision, frozen in the nightmare unfolding before me.
“Please,” I gasped, although I wasn’t sure if the words left my lips or stayed trapped in my mind. I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear anything. The world around me, outside of this hell, had vanished. Only destruction remained.
I squeezed my eyes tighter, as if shutting them harder could block out the horrors, but they kept coming. My hands trembled uncontrollably, clutching at nothing, my lungs burning, desperate for air that wouldn’t come.
“Air,” I begged. But it was a broken whisper, lost to the roaring chaos in my head. I tried to open my eyes, tried to reach for him, but I couldn’t. I was slipping—drowning. “Please.”
And then, something shifted. A rush of wind, cold and sudden, filled my lungs. I gasped, sucking in air like I hadn’t breathed in hours. The wind was strong, almost violent, tearing through the darkness that had wrapped around me. It swept into my chest, clearing the suffocating panic, pushing it back like a storm forcing clouds apart .
Everything in the vision began to crack, splintering at the edges as the wind grew stronger, grounding me. I could feel him now, winds rushing through me, breaking through the trance. The chaos in my mind stilled, replaced by the steady, rhythmic pulse of the wind filling my lungs.
I exhaled, my body trembling, but this time, I felt him beside me—solid, real. His hand found mine, his touch grounding me as the last shreds of the nightmare dissolved into nothing.
His hand was cold, as if he had just dipped it in frozen water.
“Donna.” My name again. Coming out of his lips. How… tuneful. “Can you open your eyes, love?”
My eyes? Could I really?
“Yes,” I heard him say urgently. “Yes, you can.”
I should have given voice to my thoughts because otherwise, what he was saying made no sense. “It’s over, we have the map.”
Everything around me felt calm, my mind blank. And then I began to hear the sound of the waves crashing against the hull.
I smiled. “Thalassa?”
Listen, Lady Love. Beyond. I’m everywhere.
Beyond. The steady rhythm of the waves, rolling in and out, washed over me like a lullaby. Each swell, each crash against the shore, was a reminder to breathe. Slowly. Deeply. In and out. Beyond.
The ocean’s voice was soothing, constant, its gentle hum filled my ears. I let it carry me, like I was floating on its surface, weightless and free from the storm that still lingered inside me .
I breathed in, imagining the breeze curling around me, pulling the tightness from my chest with each exhale. For a moment, it was just me and the sea, as it always had been. The ocean was endless, steady, unbroken. And in its rhythm, I found peace.
Open your eyes, Lady Love.
And I did. Very slowly.
I almost fell back from the sudden light hitting my eyes, but Captain Pierce was immediately there, grabbing me by the arms.
“Careful.” That smirk. Gods, I almost said out loud that I was glad to see him again, because it really felt like an eternity passed in that darkness.
What even was that? It was the most terrifying thing I had witnessed in my entire life.
I stared back at him, up and down. He was completely soaked.
I looked around the cabin to see if I could make sense of it and I saw one of the small round windows wide open.
“Umm…” I tried to ask.
“That Goddess of yours is very persistent.”
I smiled.
He was standing there in shock, Lady Love. It was just a small wave to wake him up.
I was so happy that I could hear her voice echoing in all the corners of my mind again that I almost forgot how scared I was when I couldn't hear her at all, in all that darkness. How alone I felt .
“It was horrible,” I whispered out loud. To him, to Thalassa… Or just to voice it out as if in that way I confirmed to myself that it had really happened and I was no madwoman.
“What did you see?” he asked so carefully.
“Devastation.” I looked at him, surely with terrified eyes still. “Hunger, scarcity, torture, crying, screaming, pain… Death.”
He gave me a sad look but also charged with surprise and confusion.
“I don’t know what happened, I lost control. I’m sorry.”
“It was me.”
I immediately looked up at him, blue scared eyes staring back at me.
“I stopped you before you could reach the end.”
“But still why would that happen, it doesn’t make sense.”
He shook his head and walked around the table, the sound of the wood floor creaking under his footsteps almost prevented me from hearing what he said next.
“There is a God who rules my nights. My fears have been what has kept us from reaching the island.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What I said to you about Loro is true, it’s a place raised and protected by death. And I contributed to make it so.”
I reached the other side of the table so I could face him. I knew what he was talking about.
“You made the arch.”
He looked up from the table and his eyes petrified like a shipwreck beneath the waves. “I did. ”
“But it was not your fault, that doesn’t mean—”
“Again,” he interrupted me, his voice serious. “Again with that look, again with that—” He closed his mouth in a thin line stopping from continuing the sentence. “Stop.” His blue eyes darkened like a storm gathering at sea. The scar that cut across his left eye tugged subtly as his jaw clenched, a small shift, but enough to make my pulse quicken.
“Always with that look, as if you were prepared to decipher the most complex code in the Four Kingdoms. As if you had the power to distinguish the exact moment in which the sculptor made an inaccuracy when carving a marble statue. And still…” He wasn’t furious but there was something shimmering beneath the surface, a tension in the way his mouth tightened at the end of every sentence, like he was holding back from saying something sharper or something that neither he understood nor could put into words.
“What is that you’re looking for, exactly? Because if it is a compassionate, benevolent or merciful rationale, you will not find it in me.” He placed his two hands on the table and leaned forward.
“I did it because I wanted to. I had the idea of dividing us from the rest of the Kingdoms as if we were the plagued ones. I had the idea of keeping us as a secret that only we could reveal, I had the idea of the arch. And I was the one who begged to the Gods, with the misfortune that only one listened. But I was also the one who said yes. I was the one who condemned those poor men to madness. Sailors who probably ended up taking their lives because of my choices. ”
He took a deep breath, and I could see it all in the way his gaze pinned me, a hard glint in the depth of that blue, as though he were willing me to see things his way, to stop looking beyond the darkness he was showing me.
“So, yes. It was my fault. And you know what, love? I would do it again a hundred times more just to see how the dying wishes of sovereigns and priests are drowned with their bodies. Because they will never ever find us. They will never be able to enter. And although there is not a night that I do not curse that lad's decisions, I know that one day I will find peace in knowing that piracy will never end. Because that little boy was once brave enough to do what he did.”
His voice, low and even, didn’t raise, he never had to, but it carried the weight of frustration. I couldn’t see yet anger or evil, but I could see that. Frustration. Exasperation. As if he was tired of hiding.
“But you were only ten,” I managed to whisper.
“Exactly,” he said, picking up the pen from the table. “You are starting to understand.”
He began to open the map again and place the shells in the corners that surely must have blown away with the winds.
“You are chasing ghosts, love. Trying to find something good where there’s only decay. Keep looking for beauty in the ashes and all you’ll find is the reason it burned. Not every broken piece can be made whole again, no matter how hard you wish it, even the most beautiful will disappoint you. ”
His words were a slow, deliberate strike, each one heavier than the last. I watched his face, the cold light in his eyes cutting deeper than the scar that run across his skin. His voice, usually so composed and playful, had an edge now, as if he was desperate to make me understand, or to make me believe, that everything I held onto was wrong.
“From darkness and disrepair of the heart comes the beautiful, and the beautiful leads to ruination. Or don’t you see that even the brightest wave crashes, dissolving back into the deep where all things return? Where the waves dance, the darkness waits.”
His tone was dark, like the weight of the ocean pressing down my chest. His gaze never wavered, unyielding as he dismantled my optimism piece by piece, exposing what he saw as nothing more than hollow illusions. Pain and darkness, that was the truth he claimed. The only truth.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. There was something in the way his scar pulled tight as he spoke, as if that mark on his skin was a testament to the very darkness he was trying to convince me of.
“The most beautiful things in the world are like a siren’s song, they call you in only to drown you. So be careful, love. Because beauty is the most dangerous lie, a trap that lures you closer to your own undoing.”
I could hear the frustration in his voice, but it was the intensity in his eyes that held me, as if he was searching for something inside me—some recognition perhaps, that I too, would eventually see the world the way he did .
And a part of me really wanted to fight back, to argue that that was exactly the point.
That beauty wasn’t just a fleeting grace—it was the last vestige of something valuable that emerged from the depths of darkness and pain. It was as if the world’s suffering had a purpose, a purpose that left behind something to cherish and hold on to. That it was exactly what he was describing. A sort of fruit, ripened by the trials and torment that life threw at us. It was the only consolation, the only thing that made the pain worth enduring. Without it, what was there left to strive for? What remained when the shadows claimed everything?
That’s it, Lady Love. Cling to your belief. Always cling to the hope.
It was in my heart—the believe that beauty was the remnant of all that was broken and scarred. If not for the promise of beauty, what was the point of enduring?
Cling to the love.
It was more than just an illusion or a distraction. It was love. It was the reward for survival, a beacon that proved there was still something worth fighting for, even if it came from the remnants of pain and damage. Without it, I feared the emptiness would swallow everything whole, leaving nothing but the hollow echoes of despair.
Cling to the love, Lady Love.
“You are wrong,” I said finally, with a broken voice but with a strength that could rival the pull of the tides. “Beauty is not a lie but a testament to what we have survived. Is the one truth that makes the struggle worthwhile. Without it, what reason do we have to endure?”
“Listen to you!” He touched his hair with a growl. “We don’t need to endure a bloody thing! We just don’t have to do it, where is my choice? Why can’t I just live in peace without feeling like a dirty monarch is waiting for me, polishing the gallows to hang my neck.”
“I refuse to think you believe that. Even you have said it, darkness and evil exist, of course they do. And what are you going to do about it? To deny beauty is to deny the hope that makes us human. Even in suffering, love and beauty are the fruits of our resilience. A rebellion against the darkness that seeks to define us.”
“You are deluding yourself if you truly believe that. It’s just a facade to mask the pain! Look around! What do you see? Broken promises from a captain and the shattered dreams of his crew. Living in lies.” His eyes burned with frustration, every word punctuated by the sharpness of his gaze. What was he even talking about?
I slammed my palm onto the table, knuckles whitewash the force of my conviction. “Just because you choose not to see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. I’ve seen it, and I’m sure they have too,” I said, pointing to the door outside, to the crew. “In the most unexpected places.”
He laughed. “Unexpected places?” The scar across his left eye stretched as his expression grew suddenly more bitter. “You think clinging to beauty and love will change the truth? The world doesn’t magically transform because you want it to. Beauty doesn’t erase the scars; it just hides them.”
“It’s not hiding them, it’s acknowledging that even on the scars there’s something worth seeing. Ask Ela. Ask her, do you really think she’s hiding her leg? You are a fool then. You just refuse to see it.”
“Are you even listening to yourself? Gods, you are incorrigible!”
“And why should I be correctable! What are you trying to correct?”
“I was just trying to open your naive eyes, because you're going to get yourself drowned if you continue living under that statement.”
“And what if I do! In every tide, there’s the promise of return.”
“But also the certainty of retreat.”
“And what about the possibilities?” I took a deep breath. “Aren’t we trying to find a map whose existence was believed to be impossible? Are you just going to give up? To retreat?”
We suddenly reached a fever pitch, our voices echoing off the walls like a storm crashing against the shore. Words flew back and forth, sharp and unforgiving, each accusation and retort cutting through the air with a palpable intensity.
Without realizing it, I was very close to him, my breaths were mingling with his and our faces were mere inches apart. His eyes were now locked onto mine with an intensity that felt almost too intimate. Every heated word seemed to bring us closer, the space between us shrinking with each angry outburst .
My heart pounded, not just from the ferocity of our argument but from the undeniable, almost unbearable, closeness. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark contrast to the icy fury in his gaze. The tension was so thick it felt like it could be sliced with a knife. The air cracked with an energy that made me want to shout, argue, and urged me to reach out and shut his mouth with my hand.
I’ve never had an argument like this with anyone, one that could turn into a debate in which they would not shut me up or look at me horribly the moment I mentioned the word love .
Every time our voices rose in unison, every time his hands slammed into the table in frustration, an undeniable magnetism grew stronger.
“Isn't piracy for lovers?” I managed to say calmly, my voice barely a whisper but, for me, contained the entire truth.
He suddenly fell silent. He was looking down at my face as if he was studying every feature, his mouth open as he tried to catch air.
“He was right. You are so much like her.” He shook his head slightly in disbelief.
That was an affirmation I had unknowingly searched for all my life. Who was I? Who had really forged my being?
I had never been like my father because I had always been forbidden to, and I had never been like my mother because I didn't even know who she was. But then she came along. Dara. And she taught me love; a force to shape myself, to build my spirit, and to anchor my soul in what I held dear. I understood that I didn't need to be a creation of another's hands, that I could craft my essence from the beauty I chose to love, that I was the architect of my own being. She taught me to build it not from the expectations of others, but by the truths I wished to embody, the legacy I longed to leave in their hearts.
I liked to think that was the reason she spoke to me about books.
When the world gave me nothing, the pages gave me everything. Between the lines I discovered all the things life denied me. When the world failed to offer what I craved, the stories did—unwavering, dependable, and mine. I was never alone again.
So if ever my heart was to leave its mark upon another, I was glad it was her footprint they carried with them too—etched in the quiet beauty of all she taught me to be.
“I really hope so,” I whispered. Because, yes. I really, really hoped I could cary her will, the hope of loving, with me always. Wherever I went, I would keep it alive.
Your love will keep us alive, Lady Love.
“You have pink tears on your face.” His sudden and delicate whisper got me looking up at his eyes again. “I've been trying to tell you for a while but you wouldn’t stop yelling.”
If I could ask for anything to the heavens in that moment, it would be to wipe that smirk off his face forever.
But thank the Gods none of them were listening.
“You were yelling too. ”
His smile widened. “Aye… What were we fighting about again?”
“You were being stubborn.”
“Ah yes, my daily bread.”
I couldn’t not smile. I tried and pressed my lips together tightly but it was useless.
“Go ahead, don't stop on my behalf,” he said. “All that speech about hidden beauty and now you're holding back a smile…We'll add hypocrite to the list, right next to incorrigible.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks before I could control it. I could feel the color blooming, giving me away and betraying me once more. Gods, he was right after all. I blushed a lot. But who in their right mind wouldn’t? He definitely knew what to say at all times.
“And again,” he whispered, stepping back a little. “That must be the reason for your pink tears... your uncontrollable rosy cheeks,” he said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
I immediately put my hands on my cheeks, under my eyes, and tried to remove it. “It’s this pink face paint Ela put on me this morning, it’s umm…” I cleared my throat. “And because I clearly cried earlier…”
He suddenly grabbed my hand and placed the pen in my open palm. He closed my hand around the pen with his fingers, and guided it to the map. He began to move my hand slowly, continuing the line where we had left it, arriving at a small island hidden on the coast of Pearlspire. And then, he circled the island with the pen in my hand, marking it with a giant X.
“Marble’s Rest,” he said .
“Your secret art island?” I asked, surprised.
That must be why he stopped me halfway, that must be why he told me it couldn't be. It was the island they spoke about in legends, the island where he kept the art he stole from all human eyes.
He nodded.
So it was. Thalassa’s Veil was in Marble’s Rest. All this time, he had what they were looking for, for so many years. All this time, and he had it. The reason he sent Dara to Tidia. And all I could say was, “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh, indeed.”