Chapter 44 Salt, Sickness, and Silverfire
Chapter forty-four
Salt, Sickness, and Silverfire
-Maris-
The sea had betrayed her. Six days aboard the Argo, and Maris was fairly certain her stomach had disowned her entirely. She clutched the edge of the low wooden rail, face pale and hair wind-tossed, as the horizon bobbed and spun like a drunk noble at an over zealous ball.
Beside her, Serenya groaned into her palms. “If I die here, tell Alarik it was noble, and push me over board.”
Maris managed a weak laugh. “You said that yesterday.”
“And the day before,” Serenya muttered. “But I mean it now.”
Waves slapped the hull with gentle persistence, not enough to warrant fear but more than enough to churn what little remained in either of their stomachs.
“I swear to any god who hasn’t tried to kill me,” Maris mumbled, “after this, I am never setting foot on a ship again.”
Serenya only whimpered.
The sky above them was clear, a rare gift streaked with violet and copper. Alarik had said they would make landfall by dawn. One more night on this cursed vessel. One more sunset of salt-wind and nausea.
Maris pulled back from the railing, steadying herself with trembling fingers.
Her magic stirred.
Not the wild, untethered inferno it had once been but a flickering ember that danced in her palm, responding to her breath. The training had helped. Her control had grown. Still, she didn’t dare reach too deep, for fear of hurting another after Alarik.
Not out here.
Not where the sea whispered to the gods like old lovers.
She’d practiced in secret, mostly below deck focusing on projection, shielding, and low-light summoning. The spells were small. Harmless. Just enough to stay sharp, to keep the power from overwhelming her again.
It helped that Alarik watched without hovering and offered his assistance when she asked.
Unlike Kael, he didn’t try to shape her to his will. He only offered space and quiet confidence. Though his eyes always burned like they knew more than he ever said aloud.
Still, despite the weight of the mission ahead, the looming threat of divine retaliation, and the unpredictable bond humming faintly between her and Kael…
She had found a rhythm here.
Just enough stability to stand upright.
Even if her stomach still wanted to mutiny.
As she made her way carefully down to the lower deck —Serenya trailing behind like a ghost of noble nausea, Maris reached again for the power of the pulsing mark on her hand.
The sigil glowed faintly in response.
Straight ahead. Still leading her true.
Toward the Hollows.
Toward the relic she was meant to find, and whatever power waited buried in its bones.
It was late but the sky turned black too quickly even for night — the star dimmed.
It started with silence. A stillness that pressed in on the Argo like a held breath. Even the wind seemed to falter, sails sagging as the ship rocked gently on a strangely flat sea.
Maris jolted awake in her cabin.
Something was wrong.
She sat up sharply, her pulse quickening. The sigil on her palm buzzed faintly with alarm. Somewhere above her, boots thundered across deckboards.
A scream cut the dark. A splash. Another voice shouting orders. The shrill, telltale sound of blades drawn.
Maris grabbed her cloak, bolted barefoot into the corridor, her body swaying with the sudden pitch of the ship. Water slammed against the hull. Wind returned wild and unnatural.
She emerged onto the upper deck just in time to see it breach.
The creature was a mass of slick limbs and iridescent scales, its shape shifting with the moonlight.
Tentacles long as sails cracked against the ship’s side, wrapping the railing and crushing it like paper.
A gaping mouth opened — lined with rows of teeth like jagged obsidian.
One crewman was already gone. Another was dangling, screaming, before being pulled under.
The battalion began to form a line around it to fight it off the deck.
Maris stumbled, falling hard against the stairs as the Argo tilted violently. Someone caught her.
Alarik.
His bare arms wrapped around her as he steadied her upright, his chest bare —hair disheveled. He smelled like salt, wind, and magic itself.
“You shouldn’t be up here Maris,” he growled, voice low but edged with panic.
“You shouldn’t be half-naked,” she shot back without thinking.
He gave a brief, humorless grin turning toward the beast.
Maris had never seen magic like his.
Alarik raised his arms, and the air around him fractured with silver-blue light. A hum pulsed through the planks beneath their feet as faelight gathered at his fingertips like a starburst. With a single commanding motion he threw his power outward.
The blast hit the creature mid-lunge.
It screamed a high, bone-rattling screech that shattered one of the sails and reared back, writhing in agony. But it wasn’t enough.
It came again. This time reaching out a limp and knocking over crew and warriors alike. The tip of the slimy tentacle began to wrap around Maris's ankle —dragging her down. Serenya attacked from above, firing arrows at the creature to no avail.
Alarik surged forward, as it began to pull her toward the broken railings edge. His hands glowed with runes that hadn’t been there before. Water rose up guided by his light on both sides of the ship — like summoned spirits the waves shaped like blades crashing down as one.
The beast split in two.
The creatures grip released Maris and what was left of it sank —staining the sea black and red in its wake.
Alarik stood at the bow like a king from myth, chest heaving, skin glowing faintly with residual power. Blood and water streaked down his side. Behind him, the crew stood frozen silent with awe and fear.
Maris pulled herself up and stepped toward him on weak knees.
“Are you alright?” she questioned, softly touching where blood lingered on his flesh.
He turned, gaze sweeping over her. “I'm fine, it's not my blood. Are you?”
“Yes, it only got my ankle.”
He exhaled, "It could've pulled you under Maris." Some of the tension in his shoulders eased.
As she shifted, her hand brushed his bare chest in an attempt to steady herself and he pulled her against him. His arms wrapping around her waist, his chin brushing her damp hair. He released her quickly, as though the reaction had been subconscious.
She moved past him quickly, attempting to banish the thoughts that sparked with his embrace.
-Alarik-
The dead had been claimed by the sea.
The crew stood in silence as the last of the wreckage was swept clean from the deck, shadows long under the retreating moonlight. Blood dried along the grooves in the timber. A shattered portion of the railing still leaned outward like jagged teeth.
Alarik stood with arms crossed, breathing in the salt-laced air. His skin still tingled from the magic, his blood humming like an old war drum.
The Argo creaked under strain, but she still floated.
“Your Majesty.” The captain approached, one eye wrapped in cloth, his gray beard soaked and dripping.
“We’re too close to turn back now. If we push forward, we’ll make landfall by late morning tomorrow with the broken mast slowing her speed.
But once we arrive… she won’t sail again till we patch her properly.
We’ll have to stay a night at the Hollow’s edge. ”
Alarik nodded grimly. “I understand, I’ll take responsibility if anything else comes crawling from the dark.”
The captain gave a kurt nod before retreating to bark orders at the weary remaining crew.
The moment the words left the captain's mouth, a pang of regret bit deep into Alarik’s ribs.
They’d come too far but obviously had not conducted enough research before voyaging.
But Maris could have died.
He turned, walking toward the corridor with long, determined strides. Every step echoed with the memory of her slipping into his arms wide-eyed, vulnerable. Then her pulse like thunder between them, after the chaos. He had cradled her for less than a breath, then realized what he was doing.
The narrow corridor was dimly lit, shadows pooled around crates and lanterns swung gently overhead. Alarik stopped before her door, hand lifted to knock.
The soft creak of hinges opening beat him to it.
Maris stood before him once more, her hair damp and curling at her waist, her form wrapped in a thick woolen blanket. Starlit green eyes met his like a challenge.
His mind raced. "I'm sorry Maris, I shouldn't have…" He couldn't finish the thought, he had too much to apologize for. He lowered his gaze.
“I’m not made of glass, you know,” she said softly.
Alarik’s jaw tightened. “You could have shattered, it could have pulled you into the depths, or if it had stirred your magic enough, you. —”
“And yet, here I am.” Her lips quirked before he could finish the thought. “Not even chipped.”
He drug a hand through his wind-wild hair, cocking his head to side. “This shouldn’t have been your burden. I should have found another way.”
“You didn’t drag me onto this ship, Alarik,” she interrupted gently. “I chose to come. To help.”
Her hand gripped the edge of the blanket tighter.
“I know what it means now. The dreams. The curse. The gods turning their eyes. I may not know everything yet… but I know enough to stop hiding from it.”
His throat bobbed as he shifted uncomfortably.
“You remind me,” he murmured, “of someone I failed once. I don't want to make the same mistakes again.”
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Elenwe,” she guessed quietly.
His expression didn’t change but his silence was confirmation enough.
“I’ve heard the name. In passing.” She paused. “Was she… yours?”
A sharp inhale cut through him like a blade.
“She was… light,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Hope made flesh. And I lost her when I needed her most.”
Her voice softened. “How?”
Another beat of silence.
“I put her somewhere she should never have been. I thought I could outwit the gods. I thought… she could be the bridge between broken realms.”
"But something went wrong?” She attempted to fill in the gaps, brows furrowing.
He gave a single, shallow nod. “Horribly.”
She searched his face. “You blame yourself.”
“Partly.” He winced.
“But you’re not telling me everything.” She moved closer.
His jaw flexed. “No. Not yet.”
They stood there, time suspended.
“I’m not her,” she said at last. “You know that.”
“No,” Alarik whispered. “You’re something far more...”
He didn’t elaborate. The words stayed lodged like thorns behind his teeth. He wanted to say more. To expose Kael as the liar he was. But seeing her standing there, eyes alight, burned through his icy resolve.
She stepped forward again. Just slightly.
Their shoulders brushed and she jolted moving away.
She didn’t invite him in. He didn’t ask.
But as she turned and closed the door behind her — his palm stayed hovering in the space where she had stood, aching.
The sea was cruel. The gods crueler still.
And if he lost her to either… he wasn’t sure what part of him would be left.