The pale light swelled beneath the surface, growing brighter with each passing second. Scarlett leaned over the railing, her stomach pressed to the carved wood, breath catching as the cold wind whipped across her face. Below, a massive white shape stirred the water—graceful, deliberate. It moved toward the ship, sending a gentle swell lapping at the hull.

“What is that?” The words left her in a whisper, whipped away by the wind.

“A kelpie,” the Captain said, voice calm, eyes steady on the glow.

Scarlett tore her gaze away for just a moment. “A kelpie? But… they’re just horses, aren’t they? It's so big.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Common mistake. They’re far bigger than people think. I watched one pull down a brigantine once. Didn’t leave a splinter.”

A shiver ran up her spine. She gripped the railing tighter, heart hammering. The shape rose, its outline clearer—a massive equine form gliding just beneath the surface. The water swelled as it passed. Then, she saw it.

A single, solid white eye stared back at her.

The light dipped beneath the surface, fading as it slid under the ship. She gasped as the hull rocked gently in its wake.

A familiar hum bloomed beneath her skin—just like the feeling she'd had going through the waygate. Energy surged up her spine, electric and exhilarating. She leaned over the railing again, straining for one last glimpse of the glowing shape.

“Woah…” She let out a breathless laugh, brushing hair from her face. Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the rail. “It was… beautiful.”

Beside her, the captain still stared at the water, a quiet smile on his weathered face. Then he turned to her. His expression faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly, gaze scanning her like he was searching for something unfamiliar.

“Sir?” She frowned, unease prickling at her neck.

He blinked, then the moment passed. His smile returned, thinner now. “You should get some rest,” he said, straightening. "I have to go talk to that twat of a man who brought you on board anyways." He scoffed and pushed away from the railing, footsteps heavy as he strode off into the dark.

“What about the kelpie?” she asked, glancing back over the edge of the railing.

The captain shrugged. “What about it?”

“Is it going to attack the ship?”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah. Out in the open sea, they’re mostly harmless.”

“But… you said it took down a brigantine,” she said, her voice pitching up as the warm hum in her chest gave way to a creeping unease.

He scoffed. “They had it coming. As long as we don’t provoke them, we’re fine.” He turned, already walking away again. “Night, lass. Don’t let the kelpies bite.” He laughed to himself as he disappeared into the dark.

Scarlett sighed, staring into the rippling black. She had never seen a kelpie before—only read about them in passing. Supposedly, they kept their distance from ships and avoided crowds.

But this one had come close. Too close.

As it had slipped beneath the water, it made a low, resonant cry—deep and haunting, like a bell rung underwater. The sound still echoed faintly in her ears.

It had been strange. And beautiful.

Scarlett made her way to the stairs leading below deck, her hand brushing the handle. She noticed a few small groups glance her way as she passed.

Maybe she was imagining it, but it felt like whispers stirred in her wake. Not sharp or cruel—just curious. Still, she couldn’t understand what they found so interesting.

She exhaled slowly as she descended the narrow stairs. There was just two beds in the cabin. Via and Olive would likely share one, and Evelyn would probably take the other. She didn’t want to crowd anyone or make Evelyn uncomfortable. She’d take the floor. The rug looked soft enough.

She eased the door open and peeked inside.

The book they'd been reading earlier still lay on the mattress, but the bed was empty. She turned to the other side of the room. Evelyn was curled tightly beneath a blanket, hugging a pillow like a shield. On the far end, Via and Olive were buried in a nest of pillows and quilts, limbs sprawled in every direction like sleepy kittens.

She chuckled softly and slipped inside, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

"Miss Scarlett?" Via stirred, her voice scratchy and small, eyes barely open.

"Shhh, it's just me," Scarlett whispered, tiptoeing closer. "Go back to sleep, dear."

"We left the bed for you," Via mumbled, her head nodding toward the empty bed. "In case you still felt sick."

"That was very thoughtful." She gently smoothed Via’s hair and guided her head back to the pillow.

"M’welcome… Miss… Scar…" Via's voice faded into soft breathing.

Scarlett lingered a moment, then perched on the edge of her bed. She slipped off her boots and began working her fingers through her tangled hair, trying to tame it into a braid. She really ought to ask if someone had a brush.

She flopped onto her back and closed her eyes. The bed wasn’t like hers from home, but it was a far cry better than the cart’s unforgiving floor. If she didn’t think too hard, she could almost pretend she was back in her own bed.

Her head still felt foggy, a dull hum—nothing like the searing pain from earlier. She turned toward the porthole, where moonlight spilled through in silvery waves. It reminded her of the kelpie. The soft, ghostly glow dancing beneath the water, strange and beautiful.

She exhaled slowly, mimicking the breath she’d let out when the light had first caught her by surprise. Maybe, if she wished hard enough, when she opened her eyes again… she’d be home.

Scarlett stirred as something soft bumped against her cheek. At first, she barely registered it. But when it pulled away, her eyes snapped open.

She blinked up—slowly—and found herself face-to-face with two pairs of curious, riverstone eyes and one pair of misty green. A startled sound nearly escaped her, but she swallowed it down along with the jolt in her chest.

“Uh… hello?” Her voice came out dry as she pushed herself up, still half entangled in dreams.

“Morning, Miss Scarlett,” Via said brightly, climbing up onto the bed. “Did we wake you?”

“Hmm?” She rubbed her eyes, trying to focus. “No, not at all,” she lied.

“One of those big guys came back and said we can go up for breakfast!” Via pointed triumphantly at the door.

Scarlett squinted toward it, wincing at the sudden awareness of light and noise. Her mind still felt like it was wrapped in a fog.

How on earth did I sleep through that?

“Are you three ready?” Scarlett slipped past Via and bent to tie her boots. The question felt a bit silly—there wasn’t much to get ready for. And it's not like they had anything they needed to do to get ready either.

“Yes, Miss Scarlett,” Via chirped, hopping off the bed and scampering across the room.

By the time she reached for the door handle, all three children were already lined up behind her like ducklings. She smiled and took Via’s outstretched hand.

The moment she stepped onto the deck, the salty wind hit her full in the face, and the sunlight made her blink. The ship was already alive with motion—sailors shouting, boots thudding, ropes creaking. The sky stretched out in a brilliant, endless blue.

She could see why Harmond loved the sea so much.

“Aha!” a voice called from above.

She looked up—just in time to see a figure swinging down toward them. With a startled gasp, she stepped back as he released the rope and landed on the deck with a solid thud.

“Miss Scarlett! You’re up!” Artur grinned, his hair a wild halo of frizz and mischief.

“Artur,” she huffed, pressing a hand to her chest. "Gods, you nearly gave me a heart attack. You really ought to be more careful—you could’ve broken something.”

He raised a brow, grin only growing wider. “Didn’t mean to scare you, miss.” Then he crouched slightly to look at the children. "I hope I didn't startle you, little ones.”

Scarlett glanced down, surprised to realize she’d instinctively pulled the children behind her, one arm stretched protectively across them.

Via shook her head as Olive darted forward, eyes wide with excitement.

“That was amazing! Can I try it? Will you teach me?” He stood on his toes, practically vibrating with energy as he looked up at Artur.

Artur chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tempting. But like Miss Scarlett said, it’s not exactly safe.”

“I like danger!” Olive declared, puffing out his chest.

Artur grinned. “Of course you do. Tell you what—how about you lead your brave crew to breakfast while I steal a moment with Miss Scarlett?”

He gave a playful salute and waved the children toward the stairs.

Her heart gave a nervous flutter.

“The doctor wants to check in on you,” Artur said, tone softening. “You feeling alright?” He reached out a hand, aiming for her forehead.

She leaned back reflexively, her stomach tightening. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, a flush creeping up her neck. “Really.”

“Glad to hear it.” Artur stepped back, chuckling awkwardly as he withdrew his hand. “Huget’s having breakfast on the quarterdeck. He asked to see you.”

Scarlett hesitated, smoothing down her messy braid. “I wouldn’t want to disturb him. You can let him know I’m fine.”

“It’s not a bother. He asked specifically. Besides, he’ll want to check if you still have a fever. Have you been feeling seasick at all? Have any trouble sleeping?” Artur started walking, gesturing for her to follow.

“I slept fine… No seasickness.” She glanced out at the water. “But—was there anything strange last night? Did the kelpie come back?”

Artur paused mid-step and turned halfway toward her. “Kelpie?” He raised a brow. “They don’t come out this far.”

“That’s what I thought. But Captain Benann—”

He cut her off with a sharp laugh. “Wouldn’t take everything the captain says too seriously. He’s fond of stories. Probably mistook a drifting cloud for a kelpie.”

Scarlett stopped, her voice firmer. “We both saw it.”

Artur’s laughter faltered, his smile tightening. “O-oh… well, you must’ve seen something else. Kelpies don’t come out this far, Miss Scarlett. Maybe it was seaweed. Sailors sometimes mistake big floating clumps of it for sea spirits.”

“But that feeling…” she murmured, more to herself than him. The buzz was still there—faint, buried beneath her skin like the hum of distant thunder. She had felt it. That presence had been real.

“What was that?” Artur glanced back over his shoulder, one foot resting on the top step.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, picking up her pace to follow.

Up on the quarterdeck, Dr. Huget sat among a small cluster of sailors and soldiers. They were gathered around a low crate, a simple board spread across it with scattered wooden pieces—some kind of game, from the looks of it. It reminded her of the street games kids played in town. She’d never had the time to join them, and by the time she could have, she’d already outgrown the urge.

She hadn’t expected grown men to be playing children’s games—but oddly, it eased the knot in her chest.

“Ah, Miss Scarlett.” Dr. Huget set down his bowl and wiped his hands on a cloth.

A few of the men turned to look, and a sudden flush of self-consciousness crept up her neck. She tugged at her wrinkled dress and resisted the urge to touch her hair—still stuck in a half-loose braid. She could practically hear her mother’s voice echoing from the mainland: Straighten your back. Smooth your skirts. Smile, but not too much.

“Hello, sir.” She dipped her head, hovering at the edge of the group, unsure where to stand or what to do.

“Come, have a seat,” the doctor said warmly, gesturing as one of the nearby sailors stood and offered up his crate.

“Oh, I—I wouldn’t want to interrupt your… uh, game,” she said, motioning vaguely toward the board.

“Nonsense,” he said with a small chuckle. “You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Go on, Miss Scarlett,” Artur added, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’ll fetch you some breakfast.”

Her face warmed as she stepped forward, careful to avoid the scattered game pieces on the deck. She lowered herself onto the crate gingerly, trying not to notice the shift of the crew’s eyes on her.

“May I check your pulse?” The doctor asked, extending a hand.

She offered her wrist, inhaling slowly as his fingers pressed into her skin. He hummed under his breath, adjusting the pressure slightly as he moved up her arm.

“Have you been feeling better?” He asked, releasing her hand.

“Yes, sir. I truly don’t think the fever was anything serious,” she said, just as he placed a palm against her forehead.

“Well, I imagine the stress didn’t help matters,” he replied, tone sharpening with quiet irritation.

Scarlett lifted her gaze. Good, she thought. At least someone’s bothered by this whole situation. His indignation was oddly comforting—like she wasn’t the only one still rattled.

“Here, hold this,” he said, placing a smooth red stone into her palm.

“Uhm… alright.” She looked down at it, brow furrowed.

“Just wrap your hands around it. Keep it there for a moment.”

She sat in silence, awkward and unsure, until he reached out again. She uncurled her fingers and blinked in surprise. The stone had turned white.

He took it from her without a word, holding it up to the light. After a moment of scrutiny, he gave a satisfied grunt.

“What was that for?” She asked, tension creeping into her voice.

“Oh, nothing much,” he said with a hum, slipping the stone into his pocket. “Just a tool most doctors carry. It can detect traces of poison.”

“Poison?” She stiffened. “Why would you be checking for that?”

The doctor resumed eating, spooning another bite from his bowl. “You never know. Doesn’t hurt to check.”

“Why would anyone try to poison me?” Her voice tightened, fear prickling just beneath her skin.

He only grunted in reply.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breath. The uncertainty twisted in her ribs—equal parts fear and irritation. She wasn’t sure which to lean into.

The decision was made for her when a voice slithered in from behind.

“Glad to see you’ve rejoined the land of the living, Miss Domonique.”

A chill tiptoed up her spine. Her shoulders stiffened.

“Glad to be back,” she said flatly, turning around.

The chancellor stood behind her, hands clasped behind his back, smiling in that infuriatingly calm way. “I take it the doctor has given you a clean bill of health?”

“Not entirely,” Huget said. “A fever like that doesn’t vanish overnight. I’ll be keeping an eye on her.”

“Glad you’re feeling better,” the chancellor added—his tone making it clear he didn't care. “Hard to tell, though, given how you… hmm, look.” He gestured lazily toward her wrinkled dress and messy braid, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Scarlett’s face burned. “Apologies, sir,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s difficult to keep up appearances when one’s been hauled from a carriage to a ship in under three days.”

“If you needed anything, you only had to ask,” he said, smiling like he’d won something.

“A brush would be nice.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” He chuckled, already turning away—far too pleased with himself.

Her fists curled in her lap. Her jaw tightened as she exhaled sharply.

What a pretentious little son of—