Water licked at the edges of the Slumbering Serpent. The sky was clear of clouds, exposing all above deck to the sun’s harsh rays and bathing them in sweat.

As harsh as life on the sea was, Frey grinned as she leaned over the boat’s railing and watched one wave crest over another in an everlasting dance.

She was at sea.

Frey had worked as a fisherwoman for most of her life, but she’d never been this far out. Not out of sight of land. There was something incredibly freeing about being so far away from civilization.

“Freya,” a voice said behind her.

A scowl crossed her lips, but she wiped it away for a smile as she flipped on her heel to face its owner: her father, the captain of the Slumbering Serpent, and a man named Soren Ula.

Soren looked nothing like Frey. He had wavy dark brown hair, a square-shaped face, sun-tanned skin, and stern features. His strong stance and wide shoulders contrasted the cane gripped in his left hand. Few people knew how cruel his work had been to him over the years.

His cane had other uses, too—though he claimed the extra "stuff" was the only reason he had it. He hid most of its abilities, but the primary one was evident: to let him communicate with his crew. A magical transceiver was built into its side that exclusively connected to radios linked to it and could send and receive messages regardless of distance.

Very convenient for a captain at sea.

“You know you shouldn’t lean against the railing,” Soren said matter-of-factly, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Frey smirked. “Yeah. But you’re here, so why not?”

Everyone knew Soren was a powerful mage. Not only was he an avatar of Levebolg—the god of the sea and its winds—but he also had some of his own magic. He was a walking, talking magical tank.

And yet all of that magical power somehow managed to miss her. It should’ve been impossible, but there they were.

Soren scowled, his frown lines deepening.

“You can’t rely on me for forever,” he said.

When have I ever been able to rely on you? she wanted to snap back. But Frey kept her smirk on her lips as she crossed her arms, leaned against the railing behind her, and folded one leg over the other.

“I’m not relying on you. I won’t fall, but even if I did, you’re here. Unless you want to show me what you can do without us having to go through that?” she said smugly.

She didn’t even know why she was doing this. Frey didn’t really care to witness his magic firsthand—it wouldn’t change the fact that she didn’t have it. So why was she provoking him?

Right. Because of the engagement.

Soren’s scowl darkened. However, it quickly melted away for a look of disappointment as he sighed and turned to look out toward the ocean.

“What’s your problem, Freya?” he asked resignedly.

I don’t know, what’s your problem? She wanted to retort. You suddenly come back just to, what, tell me you want to throw me at some random guy across the sea? Yeah, I wonder what I could be upset about.

But she bit it back, like always.

Soren had never really been around for her growing up. He was always out at sea, leaving her to figure out what to do on her own. Letting her figure out how much other people sucked, how all that mattered to them was her lack of magic or his money. That all people wanted was to use her.

For all he did for her, she might as well have just been his receptionist: always attending to his business, filing out his paperwork, or taking care of his daughter.

In other words: herself.

Frey huffed, flipping on her heel again to fold her arms over the railing.

Sunlight glittered against the water, only broken by the foam of sea spray as the waves rhythmically ebbed and flowed against the hull.

She couldn’t deny it was gorgeous, even if she couldn’t fully appreciate it with Soren’s eyes boring holes into the back of her skull.

Can’t you at least let me appreciate being out here before you shackle me down? she wanted to say.

Instead, it came out as: “I don’t have a problem.”

Wood thunked as Soren walked by to mirror her position beside her.

“Is this about the engagement?” he asked.

Gee, ya think?

Again, she didn’t voice her thoughts, just continued starting at the ocean. She tried to ignore him, but couldn’t help seeing him watch her out of the corner of her eye.

Then she wished she could’ve kept struggling to ignore him.

In the distance, a mass of clouds was starting to form—fast. They were collecting and swirling around one another, first bobbing in the air, then swelling like a balloon, collapsing in on themselves, and separating outward in swirling tendrils. Finally, they looped back and bulged out as they rejoined the other. And then it repeated. 

Each time they came back together, they grew larger.

That wasn’t normal.

“You don’t have to—”

“Dad,” she interrupted, glancing over her shoulder to meet his eyes. She swiftly bumped her the back of her hand against his chest, then pointed at the swell of clouds.

Soren’s face went solemn as he watched the clouds.

Although the sky had been clear only minutes before, it was quickly filling with the freakish clouds. They were already so dense that the ocean a few miles away was such a dark slate-grey it had almost turned almost black. Rain was starting to pour, thunder was rumbling, and bolts of lightning struck the waves as she watched.

That storm wasn’t going to take long to hit them.

Frey couldn’t find her voice.

Another spoke for her, simultaneously coming from her side and the opposite hip.

“All hands on deck!” Soren bellowed. When she turned to face him, he had his transeiver’s mic against his mouth and was shouting orders into it. His voice echoed from her radio as he continued without hesitation: “Reef the sails, drop the anchor, and batten down the hatches!”

Having given his commands, Soren turned to meet her eyes with a grim look on his face.

There were so many things she’d never said to him. Frey’s throat closed up and tears pressed at the corners of her eyes, but she forced herself to focus.

Panicking is how you die, she reminded herself.

Biting her tongue, Frey gave her dad a nod before flipping on her heel and hurrying to the foremast.

Soren and Frey weren’t the only ones on the deck—every good crew had at least a couple lookouts to watch for storms or enemy ships—and those who’d been there before were already working on jumping the halyard.

Keira—an amphibious woman who’d been part of Soren’s crew for as long as Frey could remember—was jumping, grabbing the rope dangling from the sail, and yanking the it down with her.

Behind her, other crewmates hauled the rope back in perfect sync, rhythmically removing the slack from Keira’s end and helping speed up the process of raising the sail.

A BANG sounded as the hatch to the deck swung open. Frey only spared it a glance before joining Keira and the others at the foremast. Several people swarmed out from the hatch, dispersing around the ship to carry out their own tasks. They’d gone through drills for situations like this.

Every well-trained crew did.

And, regardless of what Soren was like as a father, he was at least a good captain.

Rumbling thunder growled and BOOMed more crisply as the storm approached. Soren’s voice once again spoke from her hip, echoed this time from the radios of the crew in front of her. They were almost done with this sail.

“When you finish, get below deck. I’ll take care of everything up here,” Soren said.

Frey froze.

Then, she dropped the halyard, turned, and ran.

The world grew dark as the clouds fell over them.

Frey didn’t care; she sprinted through the ice-cold daggers of rain even as they pierced through her woolen clothes.

When she reached Soren—whose back was to her and fingers were white from gripping the railing—she grabbed his arm.

An unreadable look swept across his face as their eyes met.

“Don’t!” she begged, “don’t stay—”

“Freya,” he interrupted, voice empty and even, “somebody needs to steer the ship. And my—”

“AND I NEED A DAD!” Frey shrieked, swiping her arm out as she finally blurted what she’d held back for years. Warmth dripped down her cheeks, mixing with the cold rain.

Soren’s face flickered, softening.

Then it went tight again.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve done this,” he said, voice the harshest she’d heard it. “I can control the waves—” obviously she knew that, did he think she was stupid? “—to keep us safe. I just need to make sure you’re all—”

“THEN COME DOWN WITH US! Do it from below deck!” she begged.

“Freya,” Soren snapped, “as your captain, I order you to go to safety while I steer the ship! Are you going to disobey your captain?”

Lip twitching into a snarl, Frey pierced her dad with a look of hate.

Lightning flashed around them.

Frey’s fists shook as she clenched them.

KA-BOOM!

“FINE!” she shouted. “What do I care!”

Something flashed in the corner of her eye.

It wasn’t lightning.

The Slumbering Serpent swung in place, nearly sending Frey flying.

Whatever had just moved had been dark.

Soren’s eyes went wide as he looked over her shoulder.

He spun to face her directly, but—

CRAAAAACK—

The wood beneath her gave. Fragments of the shattered ship floated around her as she fell through them, then plunged into the water.

BOOM! CRACK, BOOM!

The ocean swallowed her. Everything was tainted blue, fragments of shattered brown and grey sank past her, and Frey’s cheeks swelled as the air tried to burst from her lips. Her eyes stung and felt like they’d pop out of their sockets; the water pressed on her from every direction; and every flailed attempt to swim took more effort than the last.

Frey tried one last swipe in the direction she thought was up and—

Something slipped past her chin.

A bright flash of light enveloped her.