23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
I awaken, cocooned in sheets that I do not want to leave anytime in the near future.
Waking in warmth is not a common occurrence in the Orlop.
Blankets and soft pillows surround me, and I turn over, pulling the blanket closer to my body, inhaling deeply.
Salt and a trace of leather and smoke hit my nose, and I hold my breath for a while longer before exhaling slowly.
It is his scent that surrounds me. I sigh at the smell.
Because this is his bed.
The memories of last night come flooding in, the way a dream you cannot fully remember does, in dregs, all blurred out and distorted. Voices. Images.
My siren song. Rat climbing the railing. Sable’s lips inches from mine.
By the seas, what have I done?
Drowned a cruel man.
The siren inside of me whispers in reassurance.
I grab the blankets and tear them off me, my skin suddenly on fire.
Gasping, I prop myself up on my elbows, running my fingers through my hair.
They snag slightly on the knots that have formed during my fitful sleep, but I can’t help but wonder if I deserve the pain it brings.
Rat was a cruel man, yes, but did he truly deserve to die?
That wasn’t my decision to make. But the sea took him almost immediately, without hesitation.
A dark part in me knows that this is proof enough that my actions were not completely and utterly unjustified.
Would he have killed me if I didn’t stop him? Perhaps.
Would he have plucked my scales off my skin and left me to bleed out on the deck? Of that, I am certain.
I take a deep breath, in an attempt to calm myself, but it is of little use.
I look around the cabin. The lanterns along the wall are still lit, their soft glow painting the room in gold.
There’s no light spilling into the room through the round windows.
I am certain after the length of my sleep that it must be morning, so the darkness outside is a source of confusion.
To my quiet disappointment, there is no sign of Sable.
Sighing, I let my head fall back into the soft mattress.
If I could stay here forever, I would. The thought of going out there and facing the crew makes my heart palpitate and my throat dry.
I have killed one of their men. They will never forgive me, and rightfully so.
A monster that cannot be controlled.
There was no control. As soon as his blade came near me, something inside me snapped.
Broke free. Everything that happened afterward is a blur.
I remember little more than a faint echo of how my voice had sounded, so it is difficult to ascertain where the words came from or how I was able to wield such ancient magic.
I swallow. I also remember the desire that rushed through me, taking over me, like a wave crashing in and flooding a ship. The desire to drown him.
Maybe he was right, and I am a monster.
I don’t know the code they follow, but whatever punishment they have in store, I will accept it without a fight. If they ask me to walk the planks and follow his path into the darkness, I will. And I will make sure Sable does not jump in after me.
What I don’t want is for him to see me as a monster.
The way he quietly whispered to me yesterday and carried me here gives me hope he doesn’t.
I can’t name what it is that I feel about him, but I do care what he thinks of me.
Care about him. I know I shouldn’t. It is against everything I was taught to believe.
But, in all the chaos and suffering of the last few weeks, he is the only one to fully try to understand me. The only one to succeed.
Faint shuffling starts in front of the door. I get up quietly, creep toward it, and press my ear against the cold wood. I can make out hushed voices coming from the corridor.
“Captain says it’s better she stays in there,” someone whispers. It’s Grim. “Just until we’re through the Sea of Shadows.”
I hold my breath. The Sea of Shadows. That’s where we’re aiming for.
I glance toward the foggy glass window. This explains the darkness outside.
The sun doesn’t rise here, not fully. I’ve never personally been here before, but I know what the sea is known for.
Nothingness. Not death. Not bones. Just a never-ending black void.
This is where the dark water sirens live. They’re vicious, primitive beings. The worst of our kind. I hesitate, guilt pressing heavily against my ribs. After what I’ve done, I have no right to talk to the crew. No right to speak at all. But I know I will not forgive myself if I stay silent now.
Slowly, I open the door with shaking hands.
I’ve never felt so small. The guilt almost knocks me out as Grim and Nightglass stare at me with wide eyes.
“Eryse, you shouldn’t leave the cabin—” Nightglass begins.
I interrupt him, my voice thin. “You have to plug your ears.”
Grim shakes his head. “Plug our ears? We don’t fear you, we know—”
“No, not because of me.” Relief crashes down on me like a wave on the shore. They do not fear me. “It’s them. The dark water sirens. They will not let you pass without trying to attack.”
I swallow hard, my fingers still clinging around the doorknob. They exchange looks, uncertainty lingering between them. That dark, dangerous siren part of me begs me to stop talking, urging that I shouldn’t feed this information to them. To pirates. I push her far away.
“Okay,” Grim nods once and turns to Nightglass, who stands next to him with squared shoulders. “Burn some candles, give wax to each man. Start with your son.”
He bobs his head at Grim in understanding and hurries out onto the deck.
“You have to stay in there,” Grim jerks his chin toward the cabin behind me. “Orders from the captain.”
“And where might the captain be?”
“That’s none of your concern. Trust that he’s doing what must be done.”
By the look on his face, I know that asking more questions wouldn’t bring me more answers. As I glance over his shoulder through the open door leading toward the deck, the crew of the Noctis is moving with purpose. They’re working together in silence, bringing a bunch of things up from the hold.
“What are you doing?” I furrow my brows as our eyes meet again. “Let me help.”
“We’re lighting the deck. Otherwise the darkness will swallow the ship whole. But you,” he points one finger at me and then into the cabin, “will stay here.”
“No,” I reply sharply and plant both feet into the ground. “I will help.”
Uncomfortable silence stretches between us until he exhales through his nose and shifts his weight.
“Fine, but only until we’re through the intermaria. You can help to fasten the lanterns and light them.”
I jerk forward, ready to at least help them make it through the sea alive without another man drowning. Grim’s arm curls around me and pulls me back.
“You should change,” he nods toward my blood-soaked gown. “Better not to remind them.”
“Oh. Yes,” I reply quietly, avoiding his gaze as heat floods my cheeks. Deep splatters of red cover the bodice of my dress.
I return to the cabin with no further words, suddenly all too desperate to get out of this cursed dress.
I quickly find the chest that Sable pulled all those dresses out of for me.
I kneel in front of it and open it slowly, the hinges creaking as the lid lifts.
I glance over my shoulder at this as if he might crash into the cabin any moment and tell me not to go through his stuff.
But he doesn’t. Somehow, his absence unsettles me more than the danger closing in on us.
The chest is filled with various things.
Clothes, a few daggers, and a considerable amount of bone charms. More than I care to count.
Big ones, tiny ones, some bound to leather, some with mere pieces of string, each one more detailed than the last. His sister was right when she said he has enough of them. He has bone charms in abundance.
Someone behind me clears their throat. I turn, expecting to find a lightly amused yet rightfully annoyed Sable, but I am met with no one.
I shake my head, turning my attention back to the chest, feeling slightly like I have taken yet another step towards madness.
I rummage a little more before a shift of darkness flits by me out of the corner of my eye.
Only when I follow it does it lead me to him, standing in the far corner of the room.
The ghost.
I exhale deeply, pleased it is him and not a figment of my own imaginings.
A part of me wants to throw my arms around him and tell him what happened last night.
To tell him what I have done. Somehow, I know that he will understand.
He has yet to show any judgment towards men.
And he has never been anything less than kind.
“I tried not to scare you this time. Did it work?”
A smile tugs at my lips as I shrug, trying not to let the rapid beating of my heart unsteady me. “You never frighten me,” I answer honestly. “These days, I am more scared of myself.”
The shadows curling around him do not leave the space he stands in, the faint outlines of his face moving, as if he’s shaking his head.
“I just came to tell you something—” A sound rises from the corridor. We both freeze and wait until it settles, my pulse drumming too loud in my ears.
“It was not your fault.”
I know what he means in an instant.
I do not reply. Instead, I go back to digging through Sable’s things, unable to focus on anything properly. My fingers meet what feels like the hard fabric of a bodice, and I pull the gown free from the chest.
“Ash has always been brutal. Believe me, I was beginning to grow quite tired of seeing his sour face on this ship.” He steps forward, but the darkness in the corner of the room still surrounds him, his figure blurring with the rest of it. “It was simply his time.”
Ash. That’s the name of the man I drowned. The man who now lies somewhere on the bottom of the sea.
“And I was the one who decided it was his time,” I spit, more angry at myself than him. “I am responsible for his death. I murdered him. Don’t try to defend me.”
“I won’t,” he says gently. Like in the orlop, his voice multiplies and hits the walls around me, his words softening the guilt coiling inside of me. “But I know you are kind at your core. Remember that, Risa.”
He withdraws and takes a step back, then another one. His features blend into nothingness, bit by bit.
“I must go. Don’t look for the captain.”
“No, wait!” I get up quickly and almost stumble over my own feet trying to get to him. But as I reach out to grab his arm, my hand is only met with air.
And, I didn’t even get a chance to ask him about the curse.
Sighing, I pull the dirty gown over my head and slip into the new one, a powder pink one, then put on my boots.
The fabric feels awkward and wrong against my skin, like I’ve stepped into a version of myself that doesn’t quite know who to be. What to be.
The room already begins to darken. Time is running out.
I rush out to the main deck. Lanterns and candles are distributed amongst the men and somehow mounted to the rigging, the railing, and on top of barrels.
I take a taper from the hook by the mast, its wick already burning low.
The flame gutters as the ship shifts beneath my feet.
I cup my hand around it to shield it from the wind and step toward the nearest lantern.
Light blooms as the wick catches, filling the lantern with a muted glow.
I close it and hurry toward the next one.
Slowly, the deck begins to lighten. The lanterns swing in the gentle wind, casting their warm light onto the boards, imitating sunlight.
Dozens of them, if not a hundred, make the Noctis look like it has been decorated with live stars.
If certain death was not creeping up on us, I might let myself think it looks beautiful.
“Lass,” I hear Grim’s voice behind me. He appears by my side and gives a short nod towards the sea in front of us.
The intermaria is straight ahead. The familiar dark blue water of the Sea of Bones stretches out before us and then simply… ends.
What lies beyond is different from anything I’ve ever seen before.
It is darker, yes, but not in the way the night darkens the sea.
It looks thick. Oily. Like a heavy blanket laid across the surface, swallowing reflection instead of returning it.
The line between the two seas is unmistakable, and the Glim leads us right toward it.
A sharp seam, as if someone has pressed two vast carpets together but hasn't bothered to blend the edges. The waters don’t mix.
They remain separate, even as the Noctis slowly passes through.
“You need to go,” Grim says, the seriousness in his voice making me flinch a little.
When I turn towards him, I can’t help but focus on the lantern beside him, following the row of them as they flicker in unison.
They suddenly seem muted, as though I’m looking at them through squinted eyes, their light fighting against the darkness.
Out of the corner of my eye, there’s movement in the spaces the light does not fully reach.
Despite being told to leave, to retreat inside to relative safety, a feeling in my gut tells me I have to stay.
Out here, with the crew. Before I get the chance to make any decisions, the remaining light from the Sea of Bones is swallowed by the void, leaving us in complete, all-encompassing darkness.