4. Vera
Vera
The silence after the chaos was always the worst part. When the adrenaline ran dry, the weight settled in, and I no longer had anything to distract me from my thoughts.
I sat on the stern deck, gazing out to the midnight waters as I twirled the phoenix crest between my fingers.
Another night where sleep refused to find me.
It was delusional to believe that, once I was out of my imprisonment, I’d be able to sleep soundly on a bed of soft, warm blankets.
A false hope my mind conjured to keep me yearning for life beyond the cells, only to disappoint when I finally achieved it.
It had been over a year, and I still couldn’t shake how strange it felt to lay my head on feathers instead of stone.
So, I didn’t. Instead, I kept watch. I scanned the smooth, dark sea, looking for any sign of the ripple I’d seen earlier.
It had disappeared as quickly as it came, but my unrest lingered.
Starke told me it was all in my head, that I sought out monsters and enemies the way a starved fisherman seeks his next meal, seeing something where there was nothing.
I tapped a fingernail against the hard edge of the token. What he didn’t know was that if I stopped, even for a moment, it let a different enemy into my mind. Dark, unwanted thoughts; intrusive emotions of a life I wished to forget but couldn’t outrun no matter how far across the realms I traveled.
I leaned back, resting my head on the wooden planks as I watched the stars above.
Some held their steady brightness, and others flickered when thin clouds meandered over them.
I breathed in and out with the rhythm of the waves, and with each breath, a low hum rumbled in my chest. The first few bars of a song vibrated between my lips, and for a moment, I heard my mother’s voice rocking me to sleep.
Footsteps creaked, breaking the stillness. “Thought I’d find you up here,” Starke said behind me. “Can’t sleep?”
I stopped humming. The sudden change left a ringing in my ears. “It’s nothing. Just thinking.”
“About the caves?”
I paused. “Yeah, the caves.”
“Me, too.” He slowly lowered himself beside me. We sat there for several minutes, arms wrapped around our knees, eyes fixed on the slow waves.
“Do you still have that map we found?” I finally asked, turning to face him. Sitting too long in the empty space set me on edge.
“Yes.” He pulled it from his pocket, unfolded it, and laid the weathered parchment between us.
I ran a finger along the delicate edges.
The lines marking the compass rose and land mass in the center were faded, some parts almost indistinguishable.
I wondered how old it was, how long those skeletons had been rotting down there, and who they belonged to.
“I’ve looked at it, but I still don’t recognize anything,” he said. “It’s too big to be Saltmourne or Twin Tides, and it doesn’t curve like Ash Serah. It’s probably just a sketch from a long time ago.”
Something in my gut told me that wasn’t the case.
“We’ll never know unless we look into it,” I said with a shrug.
“I’ll get Odessa’s opinion when we get home.
She’s got a better knowledge of maps than either of us.
” Odessa was someone else I’d bonded with in the time I’d been here, another cartographer and historian who’d grown on me over the months.
He sighed. “You’re doing it again, V.”
“Doing what?”
“Planning. Scheming. Looking for the next thing when we just barely stopped running from the last thing.”
I fingered the phoenix crest, needing to feel the rough edges. “It’s better than the alternative.” It came out so quiet, I hardly heard myself.
He didn’t respond, but the moment stretched tight between us, verging on something a bit too honest. He’d learned at this point not to push me on my cryptic answers, that I would just continue to deflect.
Guilt wormed through me. I wanted to give him more.
I wanted to let someone in, to let him see the tangled mess I worked to hide.
But this was easier. This way, neither of us were hurt.
He sighed again, then rose to his feet. “Get some sleep, V.”
“I will.” Probably not. “Thanks, Starke.”
Then he was gone, and the heavy silence closed in once more.
The stars stretched endlessly overhead while the waves rolled beneath, my thoughts the only thing left to fill the emptiness.
With the sound of his retreating footsteps came a distant memory, one I tried to bury but could never fully run from.
“You should get some sleep, Vera,” Swift said, balancing on the edge of the bed next to me.
I tossed and turned, fluffing the too-soft pillow over and over again as I fought the rising tide of panic.
It all felt so wrong. I’d been out of Scarven’s clutches for a few weeks now, but every time I closed my eyes, my stomach would tighten in fear, sending my adrenaline over the edge.
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” I mumbled, curling into a ball under the sheets.
“I found you outside this morning,” he said softly. “Sleeping on the rocks by the cliff. You scared me, Songbird. I thought something had happened.”
I didn’t meet his gaze. He had fallen asleep with his arms around me last night.
It always felt nice at first—to be with him after all those years in a cell, to finally be able to tuck myself into his side and breathe his scent.
But then the silence came. The worries and doubts and memories crept in and suffocated me.
Those arms entrapped me, closing in like the walls of my cell, and I had to get out.
I loved Everett Swift. I knew it in my heart and soul, but my mind…my mind was a darker place. It kept me from the things I wanted most. It kept me from healing, from being fully present with him.
“Sorry,” I said, keeping my eyes low. “Guess I needed some air.”
“Next time, you can wake me up,” he offered. “We can go on a walk or something.”
I took a deep breath. He was only trying to help. “Okay. I will,” I said, giving him a small smile.
He exhaled, and his sigh of relief rang in my ears. He bent down to kiss my forehead, and I closed my eyes, giving myself a moment to relax into his touch.
But then he straightened and said, “I’ll have Milo make some of his special tea. Nox said it always puts him right to sleep, and he thinks it could be good for you, too. Maybe it will help fix the sleeping problem.”
My fingers balled into fists beneath the sheets. There it was again—another solution. Another fix. I didn’t know when Everett and my brother would realize sleeping wasn’t the problem. I was.
“I don’t need some ridiculous tea, Everett,” I barked. “I just need you to leave me alone.”
He flinched, and it was like a punch to my gut. Shame instantly flooded me, and I sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry,” I said, bolting upright in the bed. Unwanted tears stung the backs of my eyes. I hated when I snapped at him like this.
“I’m so sorry. I’m just tired,” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands fell to my back, hesitant at first, then gripping tight. “I’m sorry, Swift. I don’t know why I said that.”
“It’s okay,” he murmured into my hair. He always said that. “I understand. Things will get better, I promise.”
But they didn’t, and I loved him too much to make him watch me fall apart.
So I ran. Maybe Starke was right—I was always chasing the next thing, always running, always searching.
That was the only way I knew how to live.
Because if I stayed still for too long…I was afraid I’d keep shattering, until there was nothing left of me to hold.