Scarlett’s eyes fluttered open. Sunlight poured across the floor in long golden beams, warm and blinding. She wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep, but her body told her it had been a while.

Muffled voices drifted from the other side of the room. Three blurry figures huddled together, outlines fuzzy in the light.

"Oi, I told you I wasn't going to be taking no sick kids onto this ship. Someone dies out here, it's bad luck for the lot of us."

The Captain…

"It's bad luck for a person to die anywhere."

I know that grating voice. She wrinkled her nose, the pompous tone making its way like needles under her skin.

"And besides, the doctor gave her a clean bill of health. Isn't that right, Mr. Huget?"

"I told you I had no interest in bringing her on board from the second you brought me her unconscious body. Waiting a day more wouldn't have killed you." Dr. Huget's voice cut in.

"We are on a strict schedule. We are the last group to even arrive. And I imagine everyone involved would rather get this farce over with."

It was the most emotion she'd heard from him. She could hear real disdain biting into his usual smugness.

"There you go again," the captain let out a long sigh.

"It's a lesser magic. It is used by scammers and charlatans to wow the undereducated masses and prey on the desperate."

“Yeah?" The Captain's voice cut in. "Well, have fun killing off one of the candidates he picked out.”

"Shame." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“That’s it.” Captain Benann’s boots scraped the floor as he stepped forward. “You can go sulk in your cabin ‘til we dock. I’m not having your bad energy poisoning my deck.”

Dr. Huget finally cut in, his voice harder than usual. “And I’ll ask you both to leave entirely if you keep shouting. You’ll wake—”

He stopped short, eyes landing on her.

Scarlett blinked up at him, her head spinning as she tried to sit up. Her limbs felt heavy, sluggish.

Huget crossed the room in two strides, crouching beside her. His hand pressed lightly to her forehead. “How are you feeling?” His voice softened, concern etched in every word.

“Fine…” she mumbled, her throat raw. Her eyes drifted to the others, watching as the Captain shot the Chancellor a look before strolling over.

"How're you doing, dear?" He gave her a small smile.

"Fine," she muttered again, flatter.

"Huget here says that fever of yours been breaking." He nudged the doctor, like he needed backup for the statement.

The doctor stood up, looking from the captain to her. "Oh—right, yes. The fever's nearly gone. Should be good to have you off by noon."

“You mean… out of this room?” She shifted, trying to sit up, but Huget moved subtly, blocking her with an arm.

“Off this, Miss Dominique.” The Chancellor’s voice curled in from behind the Captain. He waved a hand around the cabin. "Off this godsforsaken wooden death trap."

She scowled, completely putting aside any of the niceties she'd been trying to uphold with the man. "To where? Another cart?"

He smiled, like she had said a clever joke. “No,” he drawled, “to our final destination.”

She raised an eyebrow, hitting him with the hardest glare she could muster. “Which is? Or is that more ‘classified’ information?”

“No,” he chuckled. “We’re heading to the capital.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “The capital… as in the capital? Of the kingdom?”

“Yes,” he replied, oozing condescension. “Where else would we be going?” His smile was syrupy-sweet, the kind people used when they thought you were hopelessly slow.

Scarlett stared at him for a moment, biting back her irritation. Then her eyes dropped to her lap—only to snap back up with a sharp edge.

“Why didn’t we just take a waygate?” She demanded. “You opened one to bring us up to the docks. Why not straight to the capital?”

The flicker of annoyance in her chest flared brighter. They’d dragged her across land and sea like luggage for no reason.

“Because those take considerable energy, my dear Dominique,” the Chancellor replied, his voice coated in false patience. “The waygate to the port saved us a day—one day. It would’ve taken five more to reach the capital by road. And believe me…” His eyes narrowed, finger lifting to point at her like she’d asked him to bleed for her. “I’m not exhausting myself getting you there.”

“A boat,” he continued, brushing nonexistent dust off his sleeve, “takes three days, more or less. Much more efficient.”

Before she could get another word in, he turned and opened the cabin door, striding out like the conversation was already forgotten.

The flicker of anger in her chest twisted, burning hotter.

“Son of a—” Captain Benann muttered under his breath, cutting himself off as his eyes flicked to Scarlett. “Pardon,” he grumbled, straightening. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be workin’ with him if I had a choice.”

Scarlett hesitated, glancing toward the doctor to make sure he was out of earshot. She lowered her voice. “Captain… did the kelpie come back yesterday?”

His brows lifted slightly, his expression briefly blank. “The kelpie?”

She nodded quickly, fingers curling into the blanket. “You said they were stirring up the storm. I saw one again. By my window… right before I—” Her voice faltered, her head pulsing with a fog of fractured memories. “I guess I passed out after that… and woke up here.”

The captain’s easy grin faded for a beat, replaced by something heavier. Then, just as fast, it slipped back into something lighter. Curious. Intrigued. “Did you tell Huget?”

Heat crept up her neck, and she dropped her gaze to her lap. “No. I—I don’t want to sound crazy.”

He gave a low, amused huff. “No one’s gonna think you’re mad, love.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “Huget’s worked with me long enough. Trust me—he knows crazy when he sees it.”

His wink helped—barely—but the knot in her chest stayed tight. She tried for a smile, but it slipped away before it fully formed. Her eyes dropped back to her hands, fingers twisting in the blanket.

Capatian Benann stayed where he was, a thoughtful quiet stretching between them like frayed rope.

“Say—” He tapped his boot against the floor, giving her a crooked smile. “You up for some visitors? Got some little crew members who've been buzzin’ to see you.”

Scarlett opened her mouth to refuse, but instead, the words tumbled out differently. “Everyone’s alright, right? I… I didn’t get the kids sick?”

His smile softened. “Nah, they’re alright. Shaken, sure—but they’ll live. Tough bunch.”

Her shoulders eased, just a little. “Could they… come here?”

“’Course.” He straightened, calling over his shoulder, “She ready for visitors, Hue?”

Dr. Huget scowled faintly, arms crossed. “Would it matter if I said no? Didn’t stop half your crew from nearly busting the door down earlier.”

Captain Benann shrugged, unapologetic. “Already told you, most of my lot’ve got manners. You wanna scold someone, start with the boots—young bloods, the lot of ’em.” He tsked, shaking his head.

Then he clapped his hands once, flashing Scarlett another warm grin. “Right, let’s get the little cabin rats in to see you.”

As the Captain slipped out the door, Dr. Huget walked back over, holding a small cup filled with a foul-smelling, purple liquid.

She took it reluctantly, grimacing as the sour, earthy scent curled into her nose. "I really do feel fine," she muttered, eyeing the drink like it might bite her.

Huget only chuckled, pouring a second glass of water with casual precision. "I believe you." He gestured vaguely at her, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. "But your body’s been through the wringer, like it or not. So drink."

She tipped the cup back. The bitterness hit instantly, coating her tongue like old roots and metal. She gagged but forced herself to swallow. "Gods, what is that?" she rasped, staring down at the empty cup.

"You don’t want to know," Huget replied, unfazed, passing her the water. "But it’ll help."

He extended his hand expectantly. Without needing to be told, she placed her wrist in his palm, feeling his cool fingers press against her pulse. He hummed softly to himself, then slid something smooth into her hand, curling her fingers over it.

The weight was familiar.

She waited in tense silence, shoulders rigid, breath shallow.

Finally, Huget peeled her fingers open. The same red stone from before lay in her palm, but unlike last time, it hadn't turned stark white—it had faded to a soft, cloudy pink.

His brow furrowed as he took the stone, turning it in the light, scrutinizing every detail.

"What does that mean?" Her stomach tightened, hands fidgeting in her lap.

"It's nothing to worry about." He pocketed the stone, already turning away.

Her eyes narrowed. "Didn't you say that thing checks for poison?"

"Technically, yes." His voice was maddeningly indifferent as he rifled through his supplies.

"Technically?" The word snapped off her tongue, her patience cracking.

He hummed indifferently. "It helps me identify… imbalances. Poison, illness, lingering effects of magic—it all leaves a mark. The stone reflects that." He dropped it into a small wooden chest and snapped the lock shut. "But it's complicated to explain. And you’ll be fine."

She huffed under her breath, frustration tightening in her throat. Nothing about her situation reassured her she'd be fine. In fact, every second she seemed to be getting worse and worse. It was like her body was failing her, betraying her the longer she stayed swimming in the dark state of uncertainty everyone was keeping her in.

And worse—no one was telling her anything. The dread wrapped tighter around her like ropes she couldn’t see. She was afraid they might suffocate her.

She barely had time to untangle the knots of frustration in her stomach before the door creaked open.

"Alright, slow down—" Captain Benann's warning barely left his mouth before two small blurs rushed past him.

"Miss Scarlett!" Via's voice cracked as she barreled toward the bed, her tiny hands clutching at the blankets.

"Oh, my." Scarlett jolted, leaning back instinctively, half-convinced the girl might pull her straight off the mattress.

"You did it again!" Via's fists balled into the blankets. "You promised you wouldn't do it again."

Scarlett's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her gaze drifted past Via to the other two figures at the door.

Olive stood stiffly, his small arms crossed, glaring at her like she'd personally betrayed him. Evelyn hovered behind him, unreadable as ever, her wide eyes darting between them.

Scarlett swallowed hard, prying Via's hands off the covers gently. "I'm sorry if I scared you," she whispered, her voice tight. "I really am alright."

"You wouldn't wake up," Via insisted, her little hands seizing Scarlett's, tighter than she thought the little hand could.

Her heart twisted. For how little they knew her, they seemed to care far too much about her. They trusted her more than she even trusted them. The weight of that trust settled over her like another blanket—warm, but suffocating in its own way.

"I was just exhausted," Scarlett said softly, reaching over to brush Via's hair from her face. She gently worked to untangle the girl's stubborn grip on her hands. "I'm not used to traveling this much. I just… wore myself out, that's all."

But Via's frown didn't budge. "Me and Olive never traveled before, and we didn't get exhau—exhau—" She huffed, wrinkling her nose, "—tired."

Scarlett let out a weak chuckle, finally managing to free her hand. "You two are children. You’ve got all the energy in the world; it's not fair."

Her eyes drifted to Olive. He still stood rigid by the door, arms crossed, scowling like she'd betrayed him.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked gently.

"I'm fine," he grumbled. His lip wobbled slightly, betraying the tough exterior. "But you said you weren’t sick."

"I'm not," she replied quickly. But the words felt paper-thin in her mouth. Maybe she was lying. For all she knew, her body was unraveling one hidden thread at a time. For all she knew she was dying. But until someone told her otherwise, she had to sit with the uncertainty clawing at her chest.

Movement by the door caught her eye.

Artur hovered halfway inside, one hand braced on the frame, his expression unreadable. A quiet pulse of guilt stirred low in her stomach.

He offered her a small smile. Reflex made her return it—light, fleeting—before she quickly flattened her face, cursing herself under her breath.

Via tugged insistently at her arm, pulling her down. Stubborn as ever, she pressed a small, cool hand against Scarlett’s forehead.

"You’re hot," Via declared with a huff. "You’ve got a fever."

Scarlett gently peeled the hand away, exhaling softly. "It’s just warm in here. I’m fine."

But Via’s narrowed eyes said she wasn’t convinced. Arms crossed, chin high—Scarlett held back a sigh.

“We’ll be docking in about an hour.” Captain Benann leaned casually in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder toward the deck. “The boots want everyone topside before we pull in. You need more time?"

Scarlett mustered a small smile. "No, I’m ready."

“You sure?” His grin widened. “I can always ‘accidentally’ steer us off course.”

Artur shoved off the wall with a shake of his head, holding his hands up. "I’m pretending I didn’t hear that."

The captain chuckled, nudging Artur’s shoulder. "Ah, you wouldn’t snitch on me, boot. Who’s in a rush to get back on crumbly ol' land, anyway?"

Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh as Artur rubbed his shoulder and muttered under his breath.

But beneath the light banter, her thoughts tangled. Docking meant she could finally get off this ship. Solid ground. Crowds. Noise. Streets wide enough to disappear in. Alleys deep enough to vanish into.

Escape.