There was always something about the sea that disturbed Kalen, aside from its natural invocations of inherent mystery. It is its own deep realm, a place men do not belong. That is how he scrutinized it. At the back of his thoughts, there always rested this idea that the advent of sea-faring came hand in hand with man's arrogance. If the sea was not a boundary, then boundaries did not exist. But boundaries as a conception perpetuated dissent, informing him that man's only true boundary was his conscience and by the conscience sustained. Ihirum was conscience. Meditating on this, his thoughts were broken by the sound of heavy breathing. He turned around and saw Neleve facing the ocean, apparently throwing a fit on the grass.

Stretching and a gaping body of water.

Neleve extended and retracted his arm, finding little else to pass the time while he sat on thin glade. The beach before his eyes brought back memories confined to his childhood. As a young member of a large family, he recalled wrestling and sparring with other children in order to prove himself, and it would be on the beach when days afforded leisure. One of the past-times robbed from him with age. The nostalgia made him imagine an armed opponent bearing down on him or someone he knew, and so he jabbed like thunder, repeating the stroke of his fists with greater thrusts. His deep inhales and exhales caught the ears of Sencis, and when her elegant shape sauntered over his field of vision, he calmed down, forgetting the point of it all.

She caught a brief glimpse and noted that he was perfectly fine; it was just Neleve. His wavering eyes of blue had briefly peered up to acknowledge her presence, now averting themselves out of a sense of embarrassment. So she set her eyes on the descending sun, then the vast field of water directly beneath, then the vast stretch of sand connected, and then the green cliff rising above—on top of which stood Dane. Not until Dane had guided them here did she behold such a large body of water. Farming was her life; humble places and humble people fulfilled it. Her exposure to the outside world was the outside world overtaking her own. She had yet to understand what part of the outside world Dane represented.

Dane caught a glance of the sea before turning his head east, towards a waning sky. There was nothing he could imagine beyond that, beyond his small and bloody world. When he returned his gaze westward, it grazed the intense light of the sun and fell. His downturned eyes rested on the sword at his side, his habitual grasping of the hilt. Gently, he unwrapped his fingers. "It's time I make landfall in Falkren!" he exclaimed, his three companions attending him with studious eyes.

"Interesting and curious, thy proposition," replied Kalen.

"Why would you decide that?" asked Sencis, hesitating.

"East is naught but the untamed," answered Dane. "But it is south where I hope to find solace from this brutal land of steel plague. I suspect a wholly separate realm, pacified, where I may keep my sword sheathed."

"Is that all? Head south and do what?" Neleve asked him, seemingly disappointed, yet sustaining a figment of his usual enthusiasm. "Any major games you wish to take part in?"

"Venture south, that I may learn what peace is." He turned and stared at the horizon, keeping his head low for the sun's intensity. He wanted to stare out at the sea and bask, but the time of day would not allow him that direct view, or to stand in one spot for long.

Kalen watched Dane standing on the single terrace above the beach proper, considering the warrior's aspiration, standing there on the empty shore that begot solitude. Gold sand below, sun rays reflected. Then he gazed up at the zenith, a dark blue sky, and determined evening would arrive soon.

"It is for the better that I venture beyond these shores," continued Dane. "These arms of mine," he lifted his gauntleted arms, observing and clenching his thick fingers, "finite by time, they have yet to lay themselves over the broader world."

His companions, each, searched for an utterance, some kind of sedating response for his yearning. "How do you presume to travel?" asked Kalen.

Dane answered, "There is a port situated along these shores. It is called Mak'dris." Silence. A calming sea-breeze passed over them with its slight and tingling spray.

"Do you mean Ariella?"

"Ariella?"

Kalen, initially stunted by Dane's oblivion, pointed his staff over the eastern beach, "The closest port, east of us, is named after Matriarch Ariella, our third Mother."

Eastern nobles always referred to the port as Mak'Dris, Dane remembered. But he knew little about Voracian nobility and their complex relationship with the religious center of power in Tyre. Situated in the easternmost territory of the continent, their ties to the Holy Capital were loose, even strained, by his own observation. He remembered Duke Valeroșu's unflattering remarks on any and all subjects pertaining to the Matriarch. He came to believe that Valeroșu exemplified the sentiments of his peers. It explained why men in such circles preferred the name Mak'Dris over another Matriarch. But then Dane never knew where the name Mak'Dris came from.

"Let us go then!" said Neleve, seeking to forego boredom, "What's to stop us?" And he started toward his horse, reluctantly followed by Kalen.

Dane felt Sencis's hesitation. The cryptic lass was suspended in her downward gaze.

"What is it?" he asked, sprung by an epiphany; he was a stranger to both her character and gender.

And she replied, upturning that earthly gaze, "What do you know about Falkren, Dane? What can you tell me, truly?"

"Nothing. My knowledge is clerical hearsay," he answered, disturbed in admitting the fact. But it did not shake his commitment. "You don't have to follow. You are not bound to my fancies or Neleve's. You, alone, decide which side of the sea may keep you in peace. "

She looked into his eyes, affirming, "I will go!" and held the sword she feared to wield, unknowingly caressing the scabbard's inlays, letting her gaze drift out the seemingly endless sea. "I will go."

Behind his collar, Dane bore a grin she almost failed to see. "Then follow, and know our pledge remains as such."

Kalen and Neleve were already waiting on their horses, so Sencis sauntered over and mounted her white steed, Dane his burgundy.

"Never have I journeyed to Ariella," Kalen informed them, as they rejoined. "But, from gold and green, 'cross jagged rock, Heralward into Mak's Descent."

Kalen's lyrical expression amused Neleve, but he went along, "Indeed," pretending to understand.

"From hearsay, 'tis eastward," said Dane.

"Undoubtedly," Neleve agreed.

"Its location is no secret, Dane," replied Kalen.

"Indeed."

"Care to lead us, Neleve?" Sencis suggested.

"Lead you where?"

Western skies fulfilled a beautiful, golden hue, the burning star busy on its horizon from where it broke over leeward forestry and skyward sea. Both field and shore were adjacent the setting sun as if the polarity of these distinct features lay in deference to its glow. And its light was set on the backs of the four riders, for they willingly parted from that landscape in haste. They rode parallel to the beach, on ground high and flat, blessed by a view of endless azure quickly darkening. Sky-ruling fire descended over a landscape faltering in its natural greens and golds, cooling into white blues with just the four of them present to inhale the coastal breeze. Their hooves thundered in sync with the wind.

But an overseer, were there one, would not differentiate whether they withdrew from the sun, or if it was from them the sun withdrew.

Dusk had arrived. By the grace of the moon and vibrant stars, the glades above the shoreline stood visible and traversable. Winding and changing, the high plains of grass led low and reconnected to a firm beach withstanding the stomp of hooves.

Dane, leading under the night sky, pulled on his reins until he could halt his horse's impassioned flight. From there, saw a slope gradually rise from the sandy shore unto a hill of trees, enabling their upward gallop. He would drive up this path, closely followed by his tiring companions. In time, arriving at the grove begetting a coastal view.

Mild waves of blue-glazing moonlight crested and crashed in the distance. The tides were receding below, lightly wavering off the moon-hedged highland. As the water departed, they revealed rocks scattered along the sand just below the grove's fringe. It was on the fringes that the four riders dismounted, in a clear space facing away from the proximal tree line.

Dane would walk to the edge of the cliff, followed by Neleve, Sencis, and then Kalen. Dane sought to observe the unadulterated scene of sea and star, and would very much have liked to see beyond them. They were like two infinite bodies, luminous, endless.

Neleve, standing apart, found himself helplessly mused by what he saw; he was like Kalen in seeing the water as a mirror into the celestial. Much like space, where one cannot acquiesce to symmetry, stars jump from one to another, or surrender their light to one that comes before or after, and they shift in what seem random encounters, yet nevertheless form one ocean of flickers and twinkles without a home; so, too, do the ripples of the water gravitate and shift from one to another, mingling and switching direction in a strange unsteadiness that still coalesces into one body, atrophic and static. And the four were passive by comparison, staring into the beyond, past vast unity towards their intended destination.

"On the morrow, we cross it," mentioned Kalen.

"Is that to say our sleep will be short?" asked Neleve, with an anxious look on his shadowy visage.

"To reach Ariella and find a suited vessel sailing to Falkren, yes."

"I see..."

"Art thou so irked without thy sleep?"

"What? No, never!" But neither Kalen nor Sencis were convinced.

Dane turned his gaze towards Neleve. "I'm pleased you will be traveling at my side," he said, then turned to Kalen and Sencis, "All of you."

Neleve placed his hand on Dane's shoulder. "Continue to watch my back, I watch yours," he told him. "And yours. And yours."

"In matters mundane and dire, I shall be present," affirmed Kalen. "And avoid, I shall, the role of friar seeking sum and sanctum."

"Try not to shy away from assistance when you yourself need it, Kalen," enjoined Sencis.

"As you say. I am both humble and human."

Then a haranguing thought pricked the moment for Sencis. "Has anyone present seen Falkren for themselves?" she blurted. "Cause, the land is one still very foreign to me."

"Nay," replied Dane and Neleve in unison.

"Holy pilgrimages, milady," Kalen replied, "imparted my means and point of travel."

Sencis sighed, subtly sounding disappointment before the ocean enveloping her eyes. But she could not remain so, not with how beautifully the ocean glistened. "Beautiful unknown," she whispered under her breath. And she stood enchanted, arms crossed, gazing out at the sea. At the same time, Neleve's eyes fell distracted. He turned from the cliff, lest his gaze waver into a dream, and started back towards the grove of trees. He walked until the darkness concealed him.

One by one, they ended their longing stares, deferring to rest. Dane unbuckled his sword and sat against a large tree where he shut his eyes; Kalen wandered inward, testing through his leather shoes the thickness of grass and soil fertility. Unable to see exactly where he was walking, he laid himself on the space apparently most comforting to his shoulders. Sencis approached the tree where Dane had already sat; with enough distance between her and the trunk, she sprinted forward and climbed the nearest tree branch. Then hanging on top, reached for an even larger branch above. She managed to lift herself upon it, and there remained for the night, holding her sword as her safeguard into sleep. All was silent in the shore-side grove.