Chapter 3

Sophia hadn’t expected her wish to come true so quickly. They weren’t meant to be, she had realized somewhere along the week. People wished for many things and most of them inevitably never happen, spending their entire lives searching for proof, looking for validation but never actually receiving it.

The world seemed to have made a special case for Sophia, however, and it was only that morning she was busy tossing a rock into the sea.

It made a plopping sound that was funny to the ears, even if obscured by the cacophony of splashes around her. She watched intently as it sunk underneath the water surface, fading rapidly out of sight as seafoam covered it. She was feeling rather poetic that day but couldn’t for the life of her come up with anything remotely resembling literature of any sort.

A strange mood had overcome her and she wasn’t sure what it was. Mildly melancholic, upset and rather confused, she kneeled by surf, entertaining herself by throwing rocks into the shore instead of fiddling with words. In her honest opinion, she had expected a fair deal more when Finny announced that they will be closing shop for seven days.

“Stop tossing the rocks, Sophie,” Finny said, “You’ll attract the monsters.”

“Monsters don’t exist,” she mumbled, staring resolutely into the water.

The sun was dangling high up that morning, warming her despite the thin layer of snow that had formed through the salt everywhere. Her gloves were soaked through from where she had dug into the sand and dirt, rummaging for curious-looking pieces.

Behind them, against the dismal backdrop of the blotchy skies were the woods of pine, standing up high and gloomy. Even further beyond, monolithic mountains could be seen licking the sky and clouds, disappearing amidst the white and greys. A light wind blew through the beach, scattering dry twigs and sending up puffs of snow, threatening to have her hat ripped off her frizzy hair.

They were a ways from Ansvil, barely out of the village. Just around the bay, she could see the lacklustre palisade and the buildings that peeked out from behind it.

She knew that from one of the watchtowers, Uther was probably watching with a characteristic frown.

“Oh they do,” Finny bent down somewhere behind her, “They’re always there.”

“You’re just making them up, just like the ice giants, the elves, the little man,” Sophia muttered, “The things that grown-ups made up to keep the children in and away from danger. Children, Finny.”

“If that’s what you believe.”

“I’m not a child,” she complained, like a child.

“And you are?”

“I am — I am bored! ” she said, picking up another piece of stone.

“You’re the one who wanted to come with me,” Finny reminded her, “I remember someone saying how the other kids are stupid.”

“They are!” Sophia insisted, “They were digging for worms! Worms! In winter! How’s that not stupid in so many ways?”

“I will not disagree,” Finny was cordial about it, “But now, you’re digging for rocks.”

“It’s less disgusting,” Sophia justified. The rock in her hands was somewhat blueish, or maybe it was the watery sun or waves playing with her eyes. While it was interesting to look at for perhaps five seconds, it was just like any other piece found on the beach. So, she slung it out with impunity.

Plop!

They’ve been out here for hours, most of it spent walking, and before that had been three days. Three days that Sophia spent wandering around Ansvil under Finny’s watch, trying to find the other children that she had grown up with but hadn’t seen in a while.

To her chagrin, she found a brand new introspection that she hadn’t had before.

It wasn’t that she thought of herself as being too smart for her peers — oh no, she would never think that way. She knew that while she was quite intelligent, she was by no means a genius of any sort. However, sometime after the Zweit’s visit to the Corners, she realized just how daft most children really were.

In a horrifying bout of revelations, she discovered that worm catching and trying to throw fish pilfered from nets back into the sea was a terrible form of recreation. How she could have ever thought that such juvenile acts could be entertaining, she had no idea. Dejected, freshly cut off from many preconceived notions of ‘fun’ and ‘interesting’, she wandered back to the Corners.

I blame Captain Rutherford.

That was a solid argument, she thought, for ruining her sense of wonder.

One thing led to another and she found herself on the beach in the morning. She had been here before, perhaps once or twice but had never the chance to linger for long. Now that Finny was here doing some strange things and asked her for help, she decided to take the opportunity to stretch her legs, just a little.

Somewhere nearby was a pair of baskets, laden with lunch and dark-coloured rocks that they’ve found so far. A single piece of flimsy cloth covered half the top, good enough to keep the snow out but entirely useless in keeping the simple egg sandwich warm.

“What’cha need them for anyway?” Sophia asked, shovelling a handful of snow out of the way, “The rocks.”

“It help keeps bad things away.”

“Is it the monsters again?”

“Maybe.”

“How’re stones suppose to keep them away? You’re gonna toss it at em?”

“No, I’m not throwing them,” Finny explained gently, “These aren’t weapons, they’re building materials.”

“Like bricks? For a wall?”

“Maybe.”

“How’s this,” Sophia held up a shard of stone. It was black, shiny and somewhat sharp, no bigger than the palm of her hand. It was almost glassy in texture, but fine and rounded, “Gonna build a wall? It’s all lumpy and pointy.”

“Walls for monsters and spirits aren’t the same as walls for humans, Sophia.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Well, at least we know it works.”

“How’cha know that?”

“Have you seen a monster around yet?”

Sophia opened her mouth for a retort but found herself at a loss for words, eyes squinting.

“No....” she was forced to say.

“There you go,” said Finny, victorious in her logic.

“I hate that argument.”

“And yet, here you are. Oh, that’s a nice looking piece.”

“This? Yeah,” she said, tossing it in the basket with some careful aim, “What’s this stuff anyway? They aren’t just rocks, are they?”

“They are rocks, Sophia.”

“Ye telling me that these little chunks of rocks can keep monsters out?”

“And a bit more than that.”

“They can’t just be rocks.”

“What’re you expecting then?” Finny asked with a hint of a smile.

“Something more special than rocks, maybe,” Sophia admitted, “Let’s say… dragon scales.”

“... Dragon scales, really?” Finny paused for a moment, “That’s what you’re hoping for?”

“What?” Sophia asked defensively.

“You’re expecting dragon scales to wash up ashore? Like they’re some common pebbles?”

“Well, it's not like rocks keeping monsters away makes any more sense!”

“It’s not about the thing, Sophie, it’s about its meaning,” Finny said with utter seriousness, “Though if it were dragon scales of all things, I suppose it would be remarkably effective.”

“Well — Wait… do they exist?” Sophia found herself asking despite her previous conviction, “Actual dragons, I mean?”

“I have no idea,” the other girl answered passively, “Would be great if they don’t though. Had always been regarded as causes of problems instead of solving them. Not having one around would suit us just fine.”

“What do you think they look like anyway? I heard they can breathe fire and are longer than a dozen longboats together!” Sophia excited clamour, fingers scratching to uncover more from the frozen sands. It wasn’t long before she found a nugget buried below.

“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t.”

“... Can these rocks protect against something like that then?”

“You mean dragons?”

“Yeah,” Sophia said, crossing her arms, “Big mean fire dragons. Can these rocks do anything about that?”

Finny sighed and shrugged, “Probably not, no.”

Sophia made a tssk, somewhat disappointed. Offhandedly, she lobbed the stone at the basket. It hit the side of the rim, where it fell off into the frozen dirt and snow. The older girl made a sigh at that, walked over and retrieved the baskets, setting both down next to Sophia and kneeling down herself.

“Some other materials could work just as well,” Finny said. From around her neck, she fished out her necklace. On it was a string of multicoloured carved rocks and teeth of animals, strung up together with some sort of red twine. The beads were chiselled into small blocks, tiny inscriptions of words painted into the groves until they could hardly be read. The teeth looked to be from the jaws of some carnivorous beast, long and pointy, rounded slightly at the tip to prevent chaffing.

“Do you see these?” she asked.

“Yes?” Sophia said questioningly, not too sure where the other girl was going with this.

“These are the same as the rocks but made for another purpose,” Finny explained patiently, “Do you want to know what these mean?”

“...Sure?”

“Alright,” Finny scooted in closer until their shoulders are touching. Sophia could feel her warmth through the layers of clothing, being so close next to her. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually shown you these before, so we’ll start small. So, look at them, see if you notice anything.”

Squinting, Sophia prodded at the small, dark tiles held in the girl’s hands. Looking at them closer, the writings revealed themselves to be carved in an entirely different script, one that she wasn’t familiar with, painted in shades of blue and red. A small hole was bored into the top of each bead or teeth, the thread passing through until it formed a necklace of sorts.

After a moment of thinking, she said out loud, “They’re all stones and teeth. Not metals.”

“Yes, and do you know why?”

“... No.”

“Metal’s the things of humans,” Finny said, “Of making things of nature into something entirely of theirs. It's a symbol of how we fight against things in the dark, you get it? Just like things like fire, bricks, swords. Particularly iron, I find it to serve as an extremely good ward against spirits and the like.”

“And why aren’t we using it?” Sophia asked, confused, “If it’s so good at protecting us?”

“It’s because it’s not friendly. It’s a way of building up a wall rather than a fence,” Finny shook her head, “Things of nature is more… close to what they are. It shows that we can exert our will on the world just the same without being too angry about it.”

“But aren’t we trying to keep them out?”

“We aren’t the original owners of this land, Sophie. They have just as much right as we do to be here and could be much, much angrier about it as well. We are… making friends with them,” Finny paused for a moment, staring off into the air before looking back, “Imagine the Castors.”

Sophia pulled a face at that.

“Alright, imagine him and his attitude. Think of him as our unwelcomed neighbour,” Finny elaborated, “We might not like him in particular but we do not toss them out until they cause trouble. We do that because while we might not be all friendly, we are not enemies and we don’t want to be, get it? We have our house, they have theirs. We can go to each other's as long as we are not problematic.”

Sophia slowly nodded, eyes still squinting in consternation, saying, “Well, if you put it that way, I get it. But unlike the Castors, we can’t toss them out like that — if monsters exist at all, I mean.”

“I have my ways,” Finny smiled enigmatically, “And the spirits are less dangerous than you may think.”

“But if that’s the case, why’s the captain looking to hunt them down?”

“Oh, him?”’ Finny breathed out in a huff, a difficult expression on her face, “Well, the Zweits have quite a different view on spirits. Not quite as friendly, that lot and that king of theirs.”

“Then why did you help him then?” Sophia questioned, puzzled, “Aren’t we supposed to be… I don’t know, protect our so-called neighbours then?”

“Well, if he’s gonna be looking for them, might as well point him their way. Either way, I doubt the spirits or whatever that dwell in the sea cares for him. With the way he’s going, he would find something, somehow.”

“But —”

“That’s enough about him for now, I think,” Finny cut her off directly, a frown on her face.

“What? Why?”

“Its because he’s a dangerous man to us as well, so we do not talk much about him.”

Sophia’s mouth remained open for a while, her mind racing. Then, she suddenly remembered about how monsters didn’t exist and sending a captain off to find them was something absolutely pointless to worry about.

With that in mind, she deliberately and slowly intoned the word, “Bah!”

“What?” Finny raised a single elegant eyebrow, “Don’t believe me?”

“No, it's just unreal, that what I mean to say.”

“... Unreal?”

“It's just that all these people kept talking about spirits and beasts and all that and I’ve never seen one!” Sophia ranted, “I don’t get it! Why now? Why monsters?”

The older girl sighed, “Sophie, you know that just because —”

“We already talked about this! You can’t say, ‘if you can’t see them, it means that they are gone’ and just think that proves anything!”

“And if it's true?”

“Then life would be a lot less boring.”

There was a sullen pause in the conversation with only the sounds of trees shaking and wave crashing to fill the silence.

With another sigh, Finny said, “Look, I appreciate you coming with me all this way, but if you are bored…”

“No-no…” Sophia waved her off, “It's just… there isn’t much here at all, is there?”

She pointed out at the sea. Off in the distance, several protrusions extended out from the waves, pillars, stumps and arches forming at where the waves hit the hardier shoreline. In the summer, seabirds could be seen roosting there but now they had all migrated elsewhere, flying off to somewhere south only to return some months later.

“There’s Gilburt’s Rock, Norman's Pass and… Sigmund’s Arch,” Sophia counted out loud, finger hovering over each landmark.

“That’s what they are,” Finny agreed.

“And they've been there the entire time. Just like the forest, the village, the ships, the same old boring people, the Reeve himself — nothing’s ever changed. Its all been the same.”

“And isn’t that good?” the blonde asked, kneeling next to the shorter girl, “Means nothing bad is happening.”

“Nothing good as well,” Sophia mumbled, her arms dropping.

“I think it’s pretty great that it stays peaceful. Away from the troubles around the world, away from Zweitaland, away from wars.”

“Then maybe I should go around more then.”

They didn’t talk for a few moments, just listening to the rhythmically sloshing sounds of waves along the coastline. It was quiet now, in the winter.

“... You really think so?” Finny questioned after a while, “The world’s a scary place and you’ve lived in the village your entire life.”

“I don’t know. Won’t know unless I try. I mean, the Zweits had been the most exciting thing in my whole life and that felt pretty sad.”

The other girl hummed to herself and stood up. In her hand was a pebble, she leaned back, hand reaching behind before slinging the projectile out. It created an arc as it flew across the air — much higher than Sophia’s own. With a heavy splash, it impacted the water.

Sploosh!

It sunk without a trace.

“I think that’s just about enough rocks,” Finny announced, “A few more, we’ll go back.”

“And back to the Corners?”

“And we’ll talk to Uther, see if he can bring you out once Mrs Creighton comes back.”

“Really?” Sophia asked, perking up.

“I’d agree that you have been cooped up for too long. Some travelling would do you good,” Finny said, brushing an errant strand of hair back and tucking it into her cap, “Just to the other villages more inland, mind you. Have to start small, before you start working up to cities or even across the seas.”

The village of Ansvil laid at the tip of the landmass where Bvurdrjord was located. It wasn’t particularly isolated but its history of sunken ships made it a poor location to trade besides land travel. As it was located in the outskirts and pointing rather close to the mainland, the continentals faced a dilemma where it was a suitable port to restock and yet plagued with an inordinate rate of lost ships.

That all but assured that Ansvil wasn’t the most interesting place to stay in. It wasn’t that the villages inland were any more interesting, but Sophia had a desire to experience not breathing salty sea air for once.

If there’s nothing interesting here, then going about would be the next best thing.

“S-Sure!” she said, voice quivering, “Is that a promise? Make me a promise.”

“Think of It as promise then,” Finny answered without hesitation.

“Where do you have in mind?” she immediately asked.

“In winter…?” Finny muttered thoughtfully, dusting herself off, “I’m not too sure. As I said, we’ll go back and talk with Uther. He’ll know some good places to visit in the cold. But before we can head back...”

“Rocks.”

“You know it.”

Reinvigorated, Sophia found a new sense of purpose in collecting shiny rocks. After a brief rest with them eating their cold sandwiches, they immediately returned to work. Over the midday sun, the two siblings continued scouring the beach, upturning the snow to get at the shards underneath. As the muted orb of white in the sky rose, the temperature grew steadily warmer and the wind stilled.

They remained on the beach for a bit longer. As the day dragged on, her limbs began to tire and shake from her continued exertion. Despite it all, she continued to work through the sweat building up on the inside of her coat, driven on by the prospect and dream of exploring.

It was only after some time pass that she remembered that she was on the beach, which was on a spot rather far from the village. In a moment of inspired audacity, took the opportunity to snoop around a bit more.

Slinging the basket straps over her shoulder, she decided to walk slightly further along the beach. They’ve been in the same area for some while now, the bank thoroughly peppered with holes that they’ve dug up. On this part of Bvurdvjordr, occupy the southern bay that faces the ocean, stretching out across the horizon. This meant that most of the actually interesting to-look-at things were somewhere behind and beyond the forests.

However, that did mean there weren’t much to be found on the sands either. With determination to bring home some souvenir of her own, she scoured everything in sight.

Something tickled at the back of her head, an odd wind blew.

She looked up.

It loomed over her.

There’s an archway alongside the beach, just almost beyond the view from Ansvil. Years and years of heavy waves crashing against the stone had formed a hole in the headlands, resulting in a massive hollow that could be easily passed through.

She had seen this formation from afar many times. Every time she passed by the docks, the hole could be easily seen, jutting out, taunting. Going pass here was a dream of her that she never had the change to fulfil since she wasn’t allowed to leave on her own at all.

But now that she’s out there, she felt that it would be a good opportunity to go take a look. Glancing behind, Finny was just some ways off, sifting through a particularly large pile of sand and rock bits.

“Finny!” Sophia yelled, “ I’m going around the corner!”

“The where?” the other girl called out.

“Just behind this rock!”

And she went over. She clambered over the loose rocks, dragging herself up boulders twice her size. With some huffing and puffing, she made it atop the little pile that was the remains of hollow.

On the other side of the arch, however, was a far cry from the gently lapping waves previously found.

Snow could be hardly be found on the gravelly coastline. The sea that had been content on washing ashore instead crashed with all their might against the stones. The dull and heavy thrum of rushing water filled her ears as she cleared the arch.

Protruding from the shoreline was a multitude of giant, sharp rocks, stabbing upward like the teeth of some colossal monstrosity. In its jaws were its prey — dozens of shipwrecks lined up and broken apart like twigs, scattering themselves across the surf violently.

She briefly counted the hulls.

Ten... fifteen… twenty… thirty….

Until she lost count.

Ribs of wood, covered in a light covering of white snow or salt, resemble like so much ivory and bones, drifting aground and impaling themselves against the rocks. It was a hunting ground, a graveyard, a memorial, kept there by the water and pushing ever upward into the tree line. An equal depiction of brutality and stillness, it emanates a sense of tragicness that Sophia, at the moment, couldn’t understand but had gotten through regardless.

Sophia had to stifle a gasp, heart racing.

Some little part of her mind told her that she probably shouldn’t approach and Sophia had to agree with them that it would be most wise. It would be safer, less stupid and less likely to piss off Finny.

However —

However, she couldn’t possibly refuse such a chance for adventure.

Tentatively, feet moving almost of their own volition, she walked forward. Down the little slope, stepping through the ancient wooden planks. It was a gateway of stone, an arch to somewhere else. With this, she felt herself move, almost tangibly, through to somewhere she felt that she had never been before.

Then, before she knew it, she was surrounded by the giant skeletons of the ships. Longships, boats, merchant vessels, there were hundreds of them, each towering over her, broken apart in their death throes. It was like some collapsed palace made of corpses, spindly like the empty shells of exotic sea snails, desecrated by age.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

All of this was just around the arch.

For five years, I spent it looking at it. I could’ve been here earlier.

Now that she was here, however, she was at a loss as to how to even start. She felt the chilling wind drifting through the ruins biting into her skin, barred somewhat by the various wrecks interposed between the sea and her.

Some of the masts were intact, rotted by the saltwater and cracked by the cold weather. Flags of every kind could be seen, tattered across the frozen gravels or hung up by planks like carcasses left to dry. Just by seeing them, she could tell that many of these ships were old — old.

In a cursory glance, she could see Zweitsian — not the ones belong to Captain Rutherford but ones that the merchants carry. There were older Bvurdrjord colours as well, stripped of most of its colour as salt crystals formed on them, hanging limply or left broken like its former carriers. Besides them, there were even more that she couldn’t possibly recognise, ships that came in from further afar, carried by the currents before surfacing here.

Sophia wasn’t much of a scholar but she knew well that shipwrecks do not float. If they were sunk at sea, they would stay there. These ones were still floating before they arrived here.

Apprehension filled her.

There’s no way that no one else found this, she thought to herself.

There was something decidedly strange about this place, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She felt herself moving, almost unbidden. Something from these ruins called to her, alluring. With every step she took, her deer-skin boots sunk into the mire formed of rotten wood and sand, squelching loudly. Her attention was directed to a spot amidst the stacks of mangled crafts and she didn’t know why.

The air itself tasted strange, muddy, like something that had been dredged up from the bottom of the sea. The wooden hulls and skeletons pressed closely as she advanced, pressing together into walls, arching overhead. Peeking through the planks and pulped timber, she spied the previous occupants of rooms and compartments. Ancient barnacles and seaweed had overgrown above every object. There were chests, tables, line-wired hammocks, all shoved to one aside when the ship had tipped over on the shore.

There weren’t any bones — bones of humans, that was. Skeletons of fish could be found laying about, upturned clams and kelp slathered in swamps of organic bits. Noxious fumes, carried by cold drafts, were deeply unpleasant even to her. Even though she was used to the salty sea air, the smell of the frozen, rotting nastiness was nearly unbearable.

That, she noted absently, Is strange.

She walked, her clothes scratching on the walls. Muck came off and became stuck on her coat but she ignored it, passing through the frosty light beams and deeper into the mass. She gradually realized that the hulls of ships were piling up above, that she was heading deeper, as if she had suddenly gone indoors into some extremely wet attic.

Somewhere along the route, the mush beneath her feet had turned into stone tiles but it was too dark to tell for sure. The salt and frost began to pile up, the wind blowing it into layers of white that covers everything. The roofs, the ground, the wooden walls, all began to resemble rock as the scales-like material grew from it organically, leading deeper into the mass that felt more like coils of some giant beast. It became difficult to breathe, claustrophobic, but she pressed on regardless. She had to continue, she just knew that she must.

She was getting close, she could feel it.

Something in the back of her mind was screaming at her to head back, to run away but she couldn’t possibly stop now. Every fibre of her being demanded her obedience, that she must walk forward. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was meant to keep going, that the world conspired to bring her here.

Everything here is unnatural, she swiftly realized the absurdity of the situation. Just the morning, she had been complaining about all of the world being too boring and immediately, scant hours later, she was greeted with something clearly beyond mortal ken.

Was something watching over me? Did they hear me say how monsters weren’t real?

She wanted to laugh out loud but she decided that keeping her presence unannounced would be for the best. Sophia was keenly aware of how fast her heart was beating, how her blood rushed through her veins and her face heating up.

Her breath was cool, a minty feeling at the throat.

Something was just beyond.

There was a light at the end of the path. Through wavery corridors, the maze of broken ships that were coated in white, she made her way into an opening. The road forward was jagged, moving across in erratic patterns, stones and planks heaping atop each other.

It was sudden, jarring. Light streamed in from above, one or two stories high, down into the chamber that would otherwise be shrouded in complete darkness. The figureheads of ships, dozens above dozens, stacked atop each other in a circle until they became the very walls. They bowed their monolithic faces at the centre, almost as if they were praying, which sloped down into some sort of indent or podium around a small lake of water. Sitting at the very middle was a pedestal.

Her breath found itself stuck in her chest.

It wasn’t the fear. It wasn’t the sense of wonder. It wasn’t the all-encompassing but muted realization that she had just stepped into something much bigger than she was.

It was because on the pedestal laid an egg.

It was crystalline, glinting as the light shone down on it. Smoother than glass, it resembled so much like diamond and gems, a tint of blue hidden in its depths. The orb sat still upon the stone pedestal — ancient, cracked, covered in unknowable groves of dark green and red. Even without moving, it was alive. Even without knowing what it was, it was easily the most beautiful thing in the world.

Without realizing what she was doing, she was already moving forward. There were stairs at the side, pillars of stone extending from the dark water below, patches of it glimmering as the light from above reflected off it, the steps spiralling downwards and ever closer. Each footstep took colossal effort as if she was moving through molasses, something in her begging for her to turn back, to run away.

But she didn’t.

As if she was in a trance, she abruptly found herself in front of the pedestal, the egg laid before her. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly felt entirely too dry. She hadn’t planned so far ahead! She had merely wished to take a closer look and there she was.

This is a temple, she belated realized, I’ve walked into a temple to some god or spirit.

Strangely, that thought didn’t terrify her as much as she thought it would. Taking a moment to muster her courage, she whispered, “H-hello?”

The sound was caught in her throat, barely making itself out, disappearing into the surrounding figureheads. Now that she was closer, she could see the faces staring back at her. There were men, women, birds or beasts, some holding objects within their grasps, their gazes imperious, silent and judging. With the blue watery light that shimmered across their ancient carved visages, it was as if they were simply waiting for something to happen, vigilant and reverent.

There are so many of them.

The council of broken ships, taken from the surface and dragged to the depths, they didn’t reply to her greeting.

The egg still remained there, unmoved. Hesitantly, she circled the pedestal, dancing around the issue. She couldn’t decide what to do — seeing an egg here wasn’t quite what she was expecting.

Was this some sort of altar? A treasure of the sea gods? An offering? A nest?

Any of those options would be a good enough reason to leave the egg well alone but in her infinite wisdom of being twelve years old, she simply couldn’t bear to walk away from it.

Trembling, casting furtive gazes around the silent chamber, she lifted a finger and laid it on the shell.

The egg was smooth to the touch, cold even through her gloves, its contents entirely too opaque to see through underneath its shell. It was large, perhaps as large as a tankard, much bigger than any egg she had ever seen. She pressed her face closer, peering into it in an attempt to see even a smidgeon of whatever it could be.

To her surprise, for a split second, the milky substance parted for a moment, swirled and twisted. In it, perhaps it was her imagination or perhaps it was real, she saw a face. A face of a girl, eyes closed. Darker, dirty blonde hair, thin cheeks, probably no older than her. In the cloudy yolk, she appeared almost as if she was merely sleeping.

Then, the white veil closed up again, stilled.

For a few moments, she was frozen there, unmoving. Her hands were still cupped around it, still, fingers wrapped stiffly. For the first time in somewhile, she had clarity in her thoughts.

Oh dear.

Then, she made a decision.

If no one’s saying no, does that mean a yes?

Compared to the ambiguous offer of going to some farm more north, compared to the faraway excitement of the Zweits’ visit, this immediate offer of something so real was to her impossible to refuse.

Swiftly, she slung her basket onto the floor. Shovelling her hands into it, she grabbed an armful of dark rocks and dumped it onto the ground nearby to make room. Without a second thought, she picked the egg up, wrapped her hat around it and stuck it into the basket. Carefully, she buried it whole underneath the stones.

She couldn’t explain what she was doing or why but she did it regardless. She was keenly aware of its weight now present on her back, its presence clearly tangible. Her fingers were trembling as she hoisted the basket back onto her shoulders, her breath coming out in shudders.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, steadies herself opened them again.

I’m doing this.

Then, she walked.

Up and outward, stepping from pillars to pillars around the moat of water, the sound echoing around the chamber. She fled — for that was what she was doing, from the corridors, squeezing through frantically.

She ran and ran.

She ran until she emerged from the shaded interior, legs burning in her effort to escape the chamber.

She ran until the sunlight shown down on her hair, leaving her heaving and gasping for air, the cold air causing her breath to mist. She had never felt such fright, such mind-numbing terror as her flight from the ship graves. Sophia pulled her gloves off and rubbed her eyes, fingers coming away wet.

She was crying, tears streaming down her face without reason. Her stomach twisted as if she was about to vomit, feeling as if worms were coiling inside her stomach.

I’ve done it. I’ve really done it.

And a split second later, Sophia suddenly reminded of something very particular. For the first time in many, many years, she felt free, liberated. The world finally made sense, the sun rose from the east and she had proof. A proof of her own, but it was hers. Despite the tears, which she quickly wiped away with her sleeves, she had a massive grin etched on her face.

Triumph, that was the peculiar emotion she could feel at that moment.

But before she could celebrate fully, another matter came to the forefront.

At the bottom of the archway, which still stood resolute, and above the crest of loose stone and pebbles, was a familiar golden-haired girl. The figure could be seen hurriedly skidding the small hill, fumbling with the dress she was wearing.

“Sophia!” Finny yelled from afar.

“Finny!” Sophia yelled back, eyes wide. Hastily, she wiped away the last of her tears as best as she could whilst the older girl made her way down.

“Where have you gone?” Finny asked in hushed tones, “It dangerous too far out here!”

“I —” Sophia made to answer, her head turning around, fingers raising and was just about to tell Finny what she saw with all the excitement that was due. She was about to do all that before she froze up, mouth agape.

The previous piles of ships, stranded and organic looking, dominating the entire shoreline — they were all missing. In their place, the rocks laid bare, smiling viciously up at the sky but without its bite. The temple, the chamber, the halls of broken remnants were gone, empty and void.

It was as if none of that existed at all.

The wind continued to blow through the crags heartlessly, uncaring of her sudden plight. There was no evidence of the magical, terrifying world that she was at and all that’s left was the gravel.

Sophia blinked her eyes, stunned, and thought, That couldn’t be right.

Head still turned, not trusting herself to turn around and show her shocked face, she slowly said, “I was just looking around.”

“And your hat?”

“Wind blew it off,” she answered absently.

“You aren’t hurt right?” Finny asked with concern clear in her voice. She had been walking forward, and with her hands, she cupped Sophia’s face in her palms, turning her head to face her, “You’re crying!”

“No- No, its nothing. Just the salt, got in my eyes, that’s all..”

“Sophia, you can’t keep running off like this!” Finny cried, “You could have gotten hurt or lost, do you understand? Look at your hands!”

Sophia looked down at her palms. Though the tough fabric glove, scratch marks had made it into her skin, staining them red.

“Oh,” she said. She didn’t even feel the cuts that she made on herself when she ran through the tunnels.

“Look at me, Sophia,” Finny commanded.

Uncertainly, Sophia’s eyes flitted upward, bidden by her name being used fully. Finny hadn’t called her that in a long while, not even when the Zweits came and she had snuck out.

“There are dangerous things out there, do you understand?” The older girl uttered, her brows drawn together in an extremely serious glare, lips taut, “Whether you like it or not, even if you find it boring, things out there will not care and they can hurt you.”

“Y-Yes…?”

“I understand that you can get excited, but that was no excuse to go running off,” Finny said. The frown still on her face, she glanced around the beach, suspicious clear. Cocking her head to the side, protectively hugging Sophia closer, she carefully asked, “Did you see something strange out here?”

“No-no,” Sophia immediately lied, like a villain. There wasn’t any hesitation in her words, it was as if someone had taken control over her mouth, driving her to speak.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes,” she replied firmly.

Finny gazed deep into her eyes, seemingly seeking to gouge the truth out by sight alone. Several moments passed in the deadlock amidst the rocks. Up above, the clouds had gathered together again, the sunlight growing even muter. The wind had picked up again, carrying with it fiercer waves and drifting flakes of snow.

Eventually, the older girl said evenly, seemingly satisfied with what she was seeing, “Well, can’t stay for any longer and we will need to head back. Does your hand hurt?”

“Ah, no. No, can’t even feel the scratches, actually.”

“I’ll get you some ointments back home,” Finny said.

Sophia nodded along shakily, saying something that went along the lines of will not do it again. Blah blah blah. Finny said something else too as they started to climb their way through the arches, trudging back onto the snowy beach. The words from that point on weren’t very important.

Sophia wasn’t all that there as the journeyed back. Her mouth followed through with her familiar pattern of excuses and denial. Together with Finny, the two made their way back, stepping through the front door as the sun just barely began to dip over the sunset. Each step was numb to her senses, unbelievable as if it was all happening somewhere far, far away instead of being right now.

While the Finny was distracted with lighting candles and preparing dinner, Sophia fished out the crystal egg and brought it upstairs. With an unsteady gait, she hobbled back up to her room — a small chamber in the attic that contained a small straw bed with a sheep-skin cover. Some changes of clothes hung in a shoddy cabinet but it was more than enough for her purposes.

The egg was warm to the touch now, hard and reassuring. With trembling hands, she hid it under her blanket, making sure it was snug and away from sight.

Then, she took a breath, followed by another and even more, spent simply on staring at the wall, unmoving. Time trickled on slowly as she contemplated on events that occurred during the day.

She wasn’t thinking about how she wouldn’t leave on her own again. She wasn’t thinking about how it could have been dangerous, tides being unpredictable and all. The memories of most of the morning had faded away from her mind and in its place, all she could think about was the chamber, the faces, the water, the jagged corridors and the spiralling steps down to the pedestal.

Only the call for supper reminded her to head down to the dining hall. Eating was a brief affair and Uther weren’t going to be back until much later at night. Saying something about how she was tired, Sophia retired to bed early. Without the pressing need to attend to the customers, she did not need to stay up for long. A few more words were said before she went up and collapsed into her bed, the door closed.

Sophia was aware that her little stunt would’ve cost Finny’s trust in her ability to handle herself. Stretching up her hands against the dark ceiling, she could just barely make out the bloodied lines on her palm, slathered with some form of herbal ointment.

Downstairs, perhaps after some time had passed, there was the sound of a door opening and closing, creaking loudly in its most subtle form.

Uther.

A depreciating chuckled made its way out of her. She didn’t even attempt to stay up to talk to him about going more inland.

Any other time, she might have been devastated by the prospects of losing the chance of seeing more of the world, to be confined in this village for the rest of her life. Even now, that idea terrified her.

However, she was hardly thinking about lost opportunities.

No, what she was thinking was that she felt lucky and relieved, she was celebrating. In her arms was the crystal egg, cradled close to her chest. Eyes wide, sleep was hard-fought for that night, her mind refusing to rest as the gargantuan consequence of her actions continued to eclipse her perceptions. For the moment, all thoughts of worldly trouble, Zweits, wars, missing ships — none of those remained in her mind as she gradually closed her eyes.

In the dark, she could hear the sound of scattering rocks.

That was the moment that I first met Sophia.

Not through my eyes, of course, but it was at that very moment, my presence and gift found its way into the hands of Sophia Creighton. Whether it was fate, whether it was just a stroke of luck, I couldn’t tell, but something had led her of all people to my embassy. It could have been many others, it could have been some sailor that had walked by instead of a simple tavern girl.

I’m not quite a god — I knew that very well — but it was then, right then, I felt an urge. It was quite curious, to be frank, as I hadn’t expected it to go this way. The urge was persistent, sincere, innocent.

Perhaps it was because Elisa, the person I once was, had been near Sophia’s age. Perhaps it was a sense of empathy, a sense of kindred spirit that gave me such assurance that yes, this is the one. Or perhaps, it was this desire for change and Sophia simply was the closest means to it.

And despite my misgivings, I decided to grant Sophia her wish.

If she shall hope for the unnatural, she shall find it. If she shall hope for a friend… well, I have only the best candidate.

And who knows? Maybe something great will come of them.

But for now, I will watch.

And wait.