A Broken Promise
The map on the schoolroom wall was wrong.
It ended at the Green Sea, as if the world stopped there, but Talent knew better.
Ships had crossed it for the first time four years ago.
The Lost Continent was a real place full of ancient fae cities and magical forests, treasures and monsters. All just a sunset away.
Master Tide droned on, reciting cities she’d memorized years ago.
Vaelis, their home, the capital of Sovana.
Holbrook Span, where Cordon and Holloway’s family owned factories.
Vesipor, the famous shipyard up the coast. She glared at the teacher.
She knew all this already. Why insist on describing places she’d already been?
Talent folded her lesson paper into a tiny boat and set it drifting across her desk. Cordon caught it without looking up. He smiled at her, quick and secret, both dimples flashing.
A moment later he tipped the sand shaker, spilled the ink pot, and shouted, “Master Tide! The map!”
While the man flapped over his ruined parchment, four children slipped out the door and into the sun. The rose garden became their harbor, the fountain their sea. They fashioned a sail from a stolen tablecloth and a mast from two broom handles.
Holloway tied the knots, tongue between his teeth. When he finished, he looked up at his older brother for approval.
“Good work, soldier,” Cordon said, and the boy beamed.
Cordon declared himself captain.
“I’ll be navigator,” Talent said quickly.
Cordon barely looked at her. “That’s a good job for you.”
“What about me?” Little Merit tugged Talent’s sleeve.
Talent started to answer, but Cordon was faster. “You’re our dragon. A friendly one who eats bad people.”
Merit bared her teeth. “Rawr!” She pounced on Holloway, who fell laughing and let her win.
Cordon grinned, sunlight sparkling in his hair. Talent focused on her map. Dragons weren’t part of this story, but no one had asked the navigator. She traced coastlines in stolen chalk—Sovana on one side, Valta on the other. Each mark felt like a promise. She’d chart the way, like a real explorer.
When hunger found them, Cordon raided the kitchens and came back with warm buttermilk biscuits.
Holloway complained about breaking the rules, but he ate his in three bites.
Cordon gave two to Merit and the last one to Talent.
Merit tore her extra biscuit in half and offered to share.
Her little sister made it impossible to stay annoyed.
They collapsed in the grass, full and warm in the late-afternoon sunlight.
“Let’s go to the Lost Continent someday,” Merit said. “For real.”
Cordon propped himself on an elbow. “I can pay for everything, once I’m head of the Sennett household. We’ll need a proper ship.”
“I’ll be an explorer by then,” Talent said. “I’ll get us there.”
“And I’ll—” Holloway began.
“You’ll keep the girls safe,” Cordon said, clapping his shoulder.
Holloway nodded, solemn now. He was always a good soldier.
“We should all promise,” he said, “so it’s real.”
They stacked their hands. Talent pressed hers into the middle, between Cordon’s and Merit’s.
“We swear to explore the Lost Continent,” they chorused, calling on the gods like they’d been taught. “May Thyss the Oathkeeper bind this promise.”
For a heartbeat, the garden held still, and everything was sunlight and laughter and the smell of crushed grass. Then time moved again, and the spell broke. Each child would chase adventure in their own way.
But not together. And not all of them would see the journey’s end.