“She missed?” shouted Loch. Trent knew that tone. He wasn’t angry, just afraid. They all were. 

Everyone was focused on Gelata, but Trent saw Wynona fall. His heart lurched. She had to have been in a great deal of pain—there was no other way she would have let go like that, no other reason for her body to be so limp as she was thrown over the side of the boat. 

Where had this boat even come from? Once they got back to base, there would doubtless be questions. But this wasn’t the time. 

Trent flicked a few switches. His mech dove under the water. It was up to Loch and Gwen to figure out what to do now. He was going to save his friend. 

“She missed?” whispered Loch, and then louder: “She missed?” 

Gelata was quickly mending itself back together. Loch pulled at its beak, trying to keep it from slipping from out of his grip. Would that help, at this point? Would anything? The entire island was in danger of imploding. With Gelata in this state, it could be destroyed at any moment. 

And then Wynona fell. Loch let out an unintelligible cry; without thinking, one arm of his mech reached out to grab her. But she was too far away—and then she was under the water, untraceable.

What was he thinking? Loch quickly wrapped the arm back around Gelata, as tight as the controls would let him. He couldn’t let go of the creature. If he did, it really was all over. 

He saw one of the support mechs dive in after her. It had to be Trent. Loch felt suddenly nauseous. What was it Gwen had said? 

The volcano is underneath us. 

He could not lose Trent. He could not lose Wynona. And he could not lose this fight without losing them both—so Loch wrapped his mech’s arms around the monster and held it as tight as he could, the vicious pantomime of an embrace, angry and merciless. 

Gwen saw in one of the mech’s peripheral cameras that the girl had been thrown overboard, but that was the least of her worries. Without her to man that cannon, their last hope of destroying Gelata was gone. The best thing to do now would be to clear the rest of the island and hope the Tephrans—and the Slayers—made it out alive.

Gwen tilted her head, assessing the situation. She might have to find a few words of encouragement, or the rest of the team would descend into panic. 

Like Junior Lieutenant Loch, who was already spiraling. “She missed?!” he shouted. As if this were the time. He was struggling to hold onto the monster. If he didn’t pull himself together, Gelata would take down his mech just as it had done to Lieutenant Burk just minutes ago.

Even with Burk back on his feet, Gwen might as well have been alone for how much those two were helping. If only she could have been the one on the boat, instead of the girl… But she knew that in her hands it would just be another old sailboat. 

For Gwen had seen this ship before. There were very few like it, and to pilot it required a very specific kind of magic.

The girl was respectably headstrong, but also disappointingly reckless. It was something that she would have to learn to control. If she only knew how rare—

Gwen saw it. 

Loch’s mech had steeled itself against the monster and regained some of its former control. It was pulling Gelata back roughly by the neck so that some of the translucent flesh peeled away from the heart. 

Without hesitation, Gwen took aim—but there were no spears left in her arsenal. She swung her mech’s helmet around its pivot, searching for something, anything—

There. 

The destruction of the docks had sent charred and broken ships floating out to sea, and one of these ships was now floating directly in Gwen’s line of sight. She directed her mech forward in one single, precise motion, and then she was within reach. She tore the charred and splintered mast from its hull and turned around. Gelata’s heart throbbed pink, still suspended in the salt-stung air, the only part of the ghost that was truly alive.

Gwen leapt forward, one colossal silver arm descending. 

On her tongue: The tang of salt and blood. Beneath her body, which ached fiercely: Warm water, ash. The cold smoothness of metal. Wynona opened her eyes and saw Trent staring back at her from the cockpit of his mech. 

From somewhere far above her head, she heard Loch call her name. 

And Rayani: “Are you guys okay?!”

“What happened?” asked Wynona, but her voice was nearly gone. 

“Wyn,” said Trent. The sky behind him was bright red. Wynona closed her eyes, ready to hear the worst. Instead, he just said, “We almost lost you.” 

Wynona stared him down. As loud as she could muster: “What happened?”

The hand of his mech curled around her gently, and one finger pushed at her back, propping her up.

The sky was red because the sun was setting, and its rays had been caught on the last of the smoke. There was a crater burned through the side of the volcano, but the island was still standing. Boaty was itself again, plain and inconspicuous. Loch had pulled the helmet of his mech back so that the whole cockpit was open to the air: He had one arm thrown over his eyes, his body limp with relief. 

Gelata’s skull was bobbing on the water. 

“We did it,” said Trent, smiling. “You did it. And look. This time, I got to be the one who saved you.” 

The speakers of Gwen’s mech crackled online, and Wynona saw on the screen of Trent’s mech that she was reporting back to headquarters. 

“The Sea Monster known as Gelata has been defeated,” she said. “It’s over.” The events of the day must have banged Wynona up pretty good, because she swore she could hear a hint of exhaustion in Gwen’s voice.

The first of the night winds picked up, sending a chill across the water. Wynona watched the dark smoke billow over the bay. A few island fires that still raged, flickering in the sea’s reflection, indistinguishable from the sunset.

“It’s over,” Gwen repeated. “We won.” 

Wynona could not remember the last time she was so anxious. It was one thing to face down a monster—things happened so quick you didn’t have much time to think, and at least if you lost badly you didn’t have to be around to face the consequences. It was an entirely different thing to have won and almost destroyed an island in the process.

It had been three days since the battle with Gelata. Rear Admiral Bookler was supposed to speak to her today. In a few hours, she supposed, they’d be trying to ship her back to Claybay. 

She tapped her feet against the hard-packed dirt and bent her head. Her hands were clasped on the table in front of her; she could feel the sweat sticking her palms together. She ran through the apology in her head for the hundredth time. I’m sorry I blew up Tephra. I was just trying to help. From now on I will follow orders to the letter. You can keep me on support for as long as you want. I’ll swab decks. I’ll clean the bathrooms…

“You are to salute to the admiral upon arrival!” screamed Claude.

Wynona nearly fell off her chair. Bookler was here, and she was already making a terrible first impression. She moved to stand. 

“At ease, everyone.” 

Admiral Bookler was a big man. On his shoulders was draped an even bigger cape, the rear admiral’s emblem pinned to the right breast. His right hand was raised, and Wynona saw he wore a slim Gauntlet. 

As she relaxed, he tucked the hand behind his back. Behind him, Wynona caught sight of Gwen and Loch, who acknowledged her with a slight nod. 

“So,” said Bookler. “You’re the reason there’s a giant hole in the side of the volcano.” 

Wynona widened her eyes at Loch, desperate. Her planned apology had flown out the window. What was she supposed to say, again? Sorry my weird boat missed and I nearly killed us all… 

“You’re younger than I expected.” 

Loch responded to her with a scowl. Say something, he mouthed. 

“I’m sorry I blew up Tephra!” Wynona burst out. “It was an honest mistake! I was just trying to help! From now on—”

“Wynona.” 

Bookler had held up his Gauntleted hand again, but his tone was enough to silence Wynona’s flustered words. “It might not make sense to you right now, but you’re not in trouble.” 

He was right. It didn’t make sense. Wynona opened her mouth, ready to protest, when Loch made a swift gesture across his own neck. Shut up. 

Bookler stood somehow even straighter. “Why do you want to become a Sea Monster Slayer?” 

Wynona’s heart lurched. “What do you mean, sir?” She thought of her mother, standing blankly in the doorway.

“I mean, why are you here on Tephra? As part of the hunt?” 

Wynona looked down at her feet. She swallowed, trying to settle the ache in her throat. 

Then she stood up straight, pulling her shoulders back in spite of the pain. “I’m here to hunt Sea Monsters and protect humanity. Sir.” 

Bookler stared at her. His eyes seemed lost behind his glasses and the glare of the sun. 

He motioned to Claude, who was still saluting. Claude yelped and stood straighter, then seemed to remember something. “Oh!” He trotted over, and Wynona saw that he was holding something between his hands. 

Wynona thought he would give the object to Bookler, but he slapped it into Wynona’s hands. It was small and cold. Then he glared at her, turned to salute Bookler once more, and returned to his previous spot. 

Wynona stared down at her hand, which she had closed into a fist instinctively. Could this object possibly be what she thought it was? 

“These Sea Monsters have been a plague since before I was born,” said Bookler. “With Gelata defeated, Pelican and Borealis remain as the last true threats to humanity. We are closing in on the end of this fight.” 

Wynona could bear it no longer. She opened her fist. 

“Sir!” 

It was a Slayer badge—a real badge, silver and permanent—the Sea Monster Slayer insignia carved into the metal; beneath that, the words Official Recruit. 

“I believe…” continued Bookler, as he took a few steps toward the edge of the water, “I have always believed…. That humanity needs to hunt each and every one of these beasts down, and kill them before they can kill us.” 

Bookler turned back toward her. “However. Pelican is growing stronger, and Borealis has gone missing. I need every Slayer I can get my hands on.” 

That, at least, made sense. Not many people wanted to be Slayers anymore. Wynona was just another body in this fight. She relaxed her shoulders. 

“Especially one with your abilities, Wynona.” 

“Huh?” 

“You have a lot of skill,” said Bookler. “Talents we have not seen for a very long time. But they are raw, unfocused. Hone those, and you are capable of doing great things.” 

“I…” Wynona stared down at the badge, at the glint of silver, and she saw for the first time that her name had been inscribed on the top. She bit her lip. “I don’t know what my friends have told you, sir, but I don’t deserve this. It’s my fault Gelata escaped in the first place.” 

This was what Wynona had been wanting for as long as she knew it was a possibility. But if her time on Tephra had taught her anything, it was that what she wanted to do was not always the right thing. She offered up the badge. 

Bookler did not move to take it. 

“If by friends you mean the rest of the support team, they did not report to me on this project. I’ve heard all about your actions from Gwendolyn here,” he said. Gwen did not meet her eye. “It certainly sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure, but from my perspective your actions led directly to the death of Gelata. That’s all that matters.

“If you do decide to accept this promotion,” he continued, turning away, “You will be working directly under Lieutenant Loch.” 

Wynona looked up at Loch, her mouth agape. Lieutenant! A big name, a high honor—and no longer any Junior to weigh it down.

Loch was looking at her like she had lost her mind. Which she could understand, given that all she’d done the past month was pester him about when she would be officially recruited to the Slayers—and now had just tried to turn down her admittance. 

What! she mouthed.

What yourself, he mouthed scathingly back. 

Congrats, she mouthed. 

He grinned at her. 

“For now I must take my leave,” said Bookler. He was already heading for the docks. “It is time for us to plan the next big hunt.” 

Gwen followed him, but not before turning to glance at Wynona. Her expression was, as usual, unreadable. This did not stop Wynona feeling a churning in the pit of her stomach. 

After they left, Wynona stared down at the badge, at her bandaged wrists, the scrapes she still sustained from the fights and falls. She supposed she’d never see her own arms completely unwrapped again.

“He was right,” said Loch, over her shoulder. She did not turn to look at him. “You deserve it.” 

She closed her hand over the badge. Bookler’s question would not stop turning over in her mind. 

I mean, why are you here? 

Wynona saw her mother, standing in the doorway. The empty sky. The morning sun. 

The one thing she had been able to make out from the cliff that day—a boat she’d never seen before, heading out from the bay, toward the unknown.