Aion woke up and was glad to note he wasn’t at the bottom of the sea. He sat up on his knees in his makeshift tub and looked around. Just as expected, the prince saw the ocean surrounding him, but after a closer look, he noticed the faint outline of an island in the distance. Aion groaned quietly and started paddling with his hands toward land. He got lucky—there was a complete calm. The short nap hadn’t brought back much strength. His head was still spinning, and his throat burned with dryness. He had no energy left to admire the world around him. His eyes stayed locked on one goal—land—and not even another magical creature attack could distract him now.

By the time his arms went numb, his noble “vessel” finally reached the shore—well, more like got stuck in the shallows. Aion tried to get out carefully but caught his foot on the edge and landed face-first in the sand. The queen would've fainted at such a graceful landing from her son.

Like he was hypnotized, Aion got up and wandered toward the jungle. He wasn’t even worried about what might be lurking in the shadows of the tall trees. If he didn’t find fresh water within an hour, he’d be dead for sure.

Today, though, luck was much more on his side than it had been yesterday. After just a few minutes of searching, he stumbled upon a stream. It was about half a meter wide, and the water was ice-cold. The prince dropped to his knees, washed his hands, and started scooping water with his palms, drinking it slowly. Only after fully quenching his thirst did Aion take a moment to clean himself up and look around. The beach was barely visible through the thick greenery. Aion decided to head back and look for other survivors. There was no way he’d last even a couple of days on this unknown island without help.

Finally, he had a moment to take in his surroundings and actually think. One hand on his hip, the other shading his eyes from the blazing sun, he looked around. The endless sandy beach stretched out in both directions. In front of him—the deep blue ocean. Behind—dense jungle. He squinted, hoping to spot a ship, but the water was empty. Dark thoughts about the shipwreck and the monster attack were quickly replaced by the stunning view of the coast. He wiped sweat from his brow and ran a hand through his hair. For some reason, he felt like the real adventure was only beginning. The kraken and burning ships were just the opening act of whatever fate had in store.

“Damn you, overgrown octopus! Barely got this journey started and already a disaster! I can just see the obituary now: ‘And so the unlucky prince finally became a true corpse…’ And where the hell am I supposed to go now?” Aion looked around. “Ugh, what does it matter anymore?”

Shrugging, Aion headed to the right. The sun was at its peak. He didn’t even try to guess how long he had been wandering—maybe an hour, maybe just a few minutes—when he spotted something on the horizon. At first, he wanted to run toward it, but he’d been running on fumes since he crawled out of that tub, and now he had even less strength. When Aion finally reached the figure, he recognized Gilem. Today, luck was really on his side. The walking encyclopedia lay right in front of him, though unconscious. The sailor wasn’t injured, just completely exhausted. Even looking like a weakling, he’d managed to make it to shore. Aion glanced behind and, thankfully, saw no trace of his royal “ship.”

“Gilem, wake up. Gilem.” He gently patted the sailor on the cheeks. Gilem just turned his head and started snoring. So, not unconscious—just asleep.

Aion had no other choice, so he pinched him in the side. Gilem immediately hissed and jumped up, looking around for the source of the annoyance.

“Get off me! Redlay!” Gilem looked around once more and groaned. Everything became clear. “Oh, Prince! You’re alive! Right before I passed out, I thought, ‘What’s the difference if I survive or someone else does? We’ll get our heads chopped off when we get back anyway.’ Good to know I was wrong. And by the way: solid plan you came up with! Crazy, but solid. I just hope Steve and Rogers didn’t go down with it.”

“What about the other sailors? I was saved by a guy whose spark doesn’t let him sink… Kail, I think…”

Gilem cut off his never-ending rant and burst out laughing. Aion was surprised by the reaction.

“What’s so funny? Stop laughing already. The guy’s got zero manners!”

“Oh, don’t I know it. You were saved by Kail. Valder ordered him to keep an eye on you. He was told to save you at any cost. And yeah, like you said, he literally can’t drown. The water just spits him out like a cork.” Gilem stood up and looked around. “We need to scout the area and look for other survivors and fresh water. That’s standard procedure when stranded on an unknown island. Huh… What’s weird is I know all the islands near the First and Second Continents.”

“I already found fresh water. About a kilometer back, maybe more, into the jungle.”

Gilem nodded.

“And please, just call me Aion, and use ‘you’ instead of ‘your highness’ or whatever. I don’t want to hear anything about where I come from while we’re stuck in the middle of who-knows-where.”

“Got it. Then I suggest we go in the opposite direction from where you came. If I was the first person you ran into, chances are there’s no one else that way. Redlay’s probably nearby. If it weren’t for that snorting driftwood raft, I’d be fish food.”

Unlike Aion, Gilem looked much more confident. He didn’t charge into the jungle like a madman. It hit Aion how unprepared he truly was for this journey…

“Redlay, by the way, is a shapeshifter. Yeah, the real deal—Triple-Aspect Werebeast, or Triple-Faced, as some call them. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”

“A werebeast?” Aion matched Gilem’s pace. “How did he even get into the royal navy? Especially on a ship I was on? Werebeasts showing up in the human world is nearly a myth!”

“Not surprising. In the Sevenmoons, a Triple-Faced Werebeast has to eat a living heart. That’s when their mind shuts off—and that’s when things go south fast. If they don’t prep a rabbit or something ahead of time, they go hunting. And sometimes, that target ends up being a person.”

Aion hung on every word. Gilem noticed how interested he was and had no intention of shutting up—he rarely got such an attentive audience.

"You get it, right? Claws, teeth, strength, speed, a bond with trees and the sky—it all makes them perfect killers. You've seen Redlay? That guy could kill a rabbit just by looking at it."

"Yeah," Aion replied, picturing the tall man with long, light brown hair. After all the details Gilem had shared, there was no doubt in Aion’s mind that it was Redlay he had argued with on the ship during the wreck. The prince nervously bit his lower lip. "But you never said how he got accepted into a human fleet in the first place. Our voyage was timed to last exactly a human moon cycle. He would've had to eat someone’s heart at least twice."

"His spark—that's the answer. I call him 'Tough Guy.' His real nickname might be something else, but I like mine better. He can endure pretty much anything for a while, depending on how serious it is. For example, he can go over thirty days without food." Gilem quickened his pace. "So during a Sevenmoon, he just sits still and fights off his forest instincts. That’s the only time I leave him alone and stop talking his ear off."

"So that’s why he just sits there, staring at the ocean?" Aion pointed ahead toward the figure. Gilem was impressed with his eyesight.

Redlay sat on the sand, gazing out into the distance. That was just like him. With his deep-seated hatred for the world, he wasn’t the type to search for survivors. And considering his heightened hearing, smell, and tracking skills, he could’ve already scoured the island if he wanted to.

Redlay tilted his head in a gesture of silent suffering. Gilem had stopped caring about the werewolf's rudeness, understanding it came from a deep inability to admit he actually missed the chatterbox scribe. Even though he'd been found, Redlay stayed seated, still staring out to sea, ignoring the uninvited company. Aion just hoped Redlay remembered him and wouldn’t snap his neck.

"Taking a break?"

"You..."

Aion looked from one to the other. He wasn’t worried about his head anymore—Redlay would definitely go for Gilem first. How could anyone stay so calm after swimming through the ocean and baking in the sun? As the two locked eyes like they were about to duel, Aion noticed drops of blood on the sand. He looked up and saw that same dark expression on Redlay’s face. But now Aion could also see a crimson stain next to him. Somewhere in the distance, a bird screeched, snapping Aion out of his daze. He grabbed Gilem by the arm.

"He's bleeding."

Redlay shifted his gaze to Aion and slumped over to the side. That’s when Aion saw the piece of wood sticking out of his back—probably debris from the shipwreck. It must’ve stabbed him during the crash, and he hadn’t been able to pull it out. Maybe that’s how his spark worked. Aion suddenly wondered just how long Redlay could hold his breath. No way they called him The Deadman for nothing.

"Don’t tell me you dragged me to shore with that thing stuck in you, silently enduring the pain the whole time. With your spark, this makes it look like I owe you a life debt. But just so you know—I won’t shut up, not even if I die. I’ll haunt your dreams, lecture you on healing herbs, and make bad jokes about shrubs."

Aion just stood there watching Gilem babble on with nonsense. Their companion was bleeding out, and the guy couldn’t stop talking. Maybe now Aion understood Redlay a bit better.

"You know, even with my big mouth, I get into trouble less than you do."

"Are you gonna help him or not? You do know how, right?"

"Of course I know how! Ladies and gentlemen! Behold—a completely average triple-aspect werewolf, and I’m about to save his poor garden from withering away!"

Redlay growled threateningly. It looked kind of ridiculous with his face still in the sand. Without any showy theatrics or warnings, Gilem walked over and yanked the shard of wood out—it looked like a massive toothpick. Redlay went silent, breathing in short gasps. The pain must’ve been intense. Aion cringed just imagining all the splinters. But just a few seconds later, Redlay started to recover. The skin around the wound changed color and cracked, like bark peeling off an old tree. A moment later, it flaked away entirely, and the injury vanished as if it had never been there. Aion blinked in disbelief. Redlay rolled onto his back, gasping.

"I’m gonna rip your throat out," Redlay finally said, monotone but clear.

Gilem just smirked and looked around.

"There’s not enough patience in me to share a single room with you for even an hour."

"That trip to the Sixth Continent proved otherwise."

Redlay suddenly stood and shook himself like a dog. Aion wisely kept that observation to himself.

"So far, three survivors. Given our skills, not surprising. I’d bet Kail washed ashore with someone else. That makes at least five of us. Risa couldn’t have died—that’s just a fact. And there’s no way she’d abandon Sina. Another fact. If we got lucky and they’re on this island too, we’ll find them soon. Do you sense anyone nearby?"

"I smell your stench." Redlay’s face didn’t twitch.

"You’re not exactly smelling like Gabo flowers after that swim, you know. Aion, you know what werewolves smell like?"

The prince noticed Redlay’s eyes darken. Gilem didn’t seem to care.

"They smell like a dog rolled around in a flowerbed. Always. Even after you take a bath. Only way to avoid that aroma is to stay at least a hundred miles away from you."

Redlay suddenly grabbed Gilem by the neck and scowled. His light brown hair darkened at the roots. If there were no more survivors on the island, Aion was definitely going to lose his mind with these two. Gilem didn’t even flinch. He just grinned like usual. That was, until Redlay’s grip tightened. Aion silently thanked the universe when something black shimmered in the distance, about half a kilometer away. All three turned to look. Redlay dropped Gilem to the sand and froze, listening.