It took about an hour before the mages returned with Gabriel Blanche. The first thing they did was shoot her with another ice javelin. Like before, she died, she woke up, and a sea of blurry, annoyed faces greeted her.

Fontaine dropped down, with a bag in his hand. He grabbed her, and Ceyda realized that the chances of them taking her to Nevan were not something they would just tell her.

“I phwill ko to zuh Demesne off fall,” Ceyda tried to yell through her sewn mouth, taking a step back and flinching.

To her surprise, Fontaine paused. He narrowed his eyes, and gripped her face. The metal string weaved out of her face, and back into his sleeve.

“What did you say?” Fontaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you take me somewhere like Nevan,” Ceyda said, her jaw aching from the sudden freedom, “I’ll be able to use the key to the demesne of all.”

She didn’t know what such a phrase would yield, but what she didn’t expect was Rembrandt to immediately descend into a slew of curses at her, each one more explicit and crass than the last.

Fontaine took a deep breath and forced a smile. “How do you know about that, little chatelaine?”

Crap. They didn’t tell her what to say for this next part.

“Because of my supreme magical powers,” Ceyda said, not thinking of anything better to say than what was the absolute truth.

“What is she talking about?” Gabriel asked. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Didn’t you say her parents would be arriving shortly?” Rembrandt asked. “It’s been an hour. Maybe they abandoned the brat.”

“...possibly. Diane insisted on sending a courier--” Gabriel paused again. “Perhaps it’s late, or they truly want her gone. Regardless, there will be gossip, and I don’t need the Rites Giver on my ass. So find a way to get rid of her.”

“Well we’re not taking her to Nevan!” Rembrandt hissed.

“Why not?” Gabriel asked. “What’s the Demesne of All?”

“It’s--” Rembrandt’s jaw hung loosely for a moment. “It’s a secret she shouldn’t know about. And if she goes about blabbing on it, then we’ll all hang for it.”

“Hm, I have a proposal,” Fontaine said brightly. He took out a switchblade, and slammed down on Ceyda’s foot. She yelped in pain, and he stabbed her inside her mouth. Ceyda screamed, flailing in confusion, but Fontaine was stronger than her.

She didn’t even realize what fully happened, just that her mouth was gushing with blood. There was something solid in Fontaine’s retracted hand, and she couldn’t even tell what it was. She tried to speak, but couldn’t.

A protrusion started to grow, slowly but surely, in the back of her throat, and with it, came back the sense of taste she didn’t know was missing.

The bastard had tried to cut out her tongue.

“Fuck you!” Ceyda spat

Fontaine sighed again. “Damn. I was hoping amputation would solve the healing problem.”

“You will never be rid of me!” Ceyda yelled. The words had an odd humming sensation to it. They didn’t feel like her own words, not like she was being possessed, but like her instinct was overriding her words before her brain could think up an argument. “You could cast me down to the depths of the darkest ocean, and I would still live!”

There was a moment of silence.

“Now there’s an idea,” Rembrandt said.

Holy shit, had that worked? Ceyda didn’t know who to pray to, to thank for this developing miracle, but she was going to thank it all the same. In the Rite of Self, she would be thanking the Crown and her own core, but in this case she probably needed to thank an Avatar. Which Avatar did she thank for saying the right words?

Thanks, Dorskina, she tried experimentally.

Nothing happened, but then again, what did she expect would happen? If praying had worked, it would have already done something.

“Use my boat, get her far away so I can clean up this mess. I will be preparing for a trip to Nevan tonight, with my grimoire,” Gabriel said.

The metallic thread in Fontaine’s coat glowed softly.

She was leaving Doc behind.

She was leaving Doc behind!

Fuck! Fucking shit fuck!

The metal thread was looped back into her mouth, the wounds already rubbed raw and sore.

Losing magic sucked, but whatever. She had lived without magic before and she would live without it again.

She could come back for the others. She could find them. She knew where they lived. She knew the town.

But Doc…

He put the bag over her head, and dragged her out of the well.

Doc was being taken to a far off safe, in a far off city that Ceyda had never been to.

If she had been smart she would have gone back into the mansion, stolen the grimoire, and then either snuck back into the well, or just headed to the dock herself. But she wasn’t smart. She was just an idiot, like Miss Amber Blanche had said, with that annoying smug smile on her face.

This sucked. She was leaving everyone behind on a whim, for a gamble she didnt’even know would work! Fuck! Why was she so calm before? This was a terrible idea! She should have fought tooth and nail to stay there until her parents arrived! She could have been fine and then gone to the ocean any time she wanted!

Idiot. Stupid idiot. She thought she was so great but she was not. She was young, stupid, and didn’t understand what was going on and she hated it.

She didn’t even know how far into the ocean she needed to go! She had only taken brief boat rides, but she had certainly never seen a wall before! What if she wasn’t close enough?

The mages quickly escorted her to what felt like an automobile, and Ceyda gave a fearful yelp as the car sputtered to life with the same loud noise it always did. Her lips strained against the metal.

“Who wants to bet money her parents never show?” an unknown mage cracked. Laughter scattered throughout the car. Distinct voices coming in and out--5-6, mages? That was a lot. That was a lot of people who could kill her.

Her magic was dwindling, she could feel it. She was losing Doc, and what few spells she had.

Good bye. Doc. One day she’d figure out how to save them. She didn’t know how. She didn’t know if she was going to live past today, but this wasn’t fair. Something had to be done. They couldn’t keep Doc forever. Ceyda would do something, even if it killed her.

Her throat tightened at the thought, and Ceyda tried to cry as quietly as possible. The mages continued to crack jokes, as if she wasn’t there. At first they talked about how much they wanted her to die, mostly for the small detail of killing other mages, but then inevitably devolved into talking about which one of them had the smallest genitalia.

A few times there were cracks in Rembrandt’s direction, especially from Fontaine, but he remained silent. Ceyda didn’t hear his voice the entire car ride.

After what felt like the longest time imaginable, the automobile stopped. The sea air could be smelled from here.

Still with a bag over her head, Ceyda was escorted down to the docks, as her feet went from touching dirt to wooden planks.

“We need Blanche’s boat.”

“It’s being cleaned right now--”

“Clean it while we sail it!"

“Ah--is that a child you have--with you?”

Absolutely rude. Honestly here she was, a prisoner covered in her own puke, and apparently she was only worthy of worry if she was a child!

“How’s your family doing?” the mage holding Ceyda shot back. What a strange and inappropriate topic swerve.

“Ah--right. I’ll just--I’m sure--I’ll go raise the sails.”

Ohhh. It was a threat.

The basement with the people in it. Is that what they were threatening? Were they using it to drain their life force? Were the Blanches immortal? Were they vampires? Fontaine had been able to suck her magical energy away. What if they were all immortal vampire mages? What if they weren’t?

What if they were some entirely unrelated group of beings that Ceyda had no reference for and knew nothing about? Everything else about magic had been a lie, and even when it had been, none of it applied in Kesterline! So it could be some sort of strange double obfuscation where Ceyda would know nothing times two.

The light faded from around her, so Ceyda could only assume she had been escorted somewhere dark. She wasn’t sure why the bag was necessary. They were at the Bricketfriar docks. It was a two and a half hour walk from the town proper. It was a small port, where only the richest of nobles had a boat.

Her father, much to his chagrin, did not have one.

She had been here a few times. She could hypothetically get back, but the bigger destination was in the ocean. Of course, the sinking sensation of this being a foolish cause was beginning to be undeniable.

Those strangers who surrounded Reiner, they didn’t know about the grimoire. They didn’t know that Ceyda needed Doc to cast spells. Ceyda didn’t even know if the weird body healing thing would happen without Doc nearby. If she got well and truly out of Doc’s range, would all her spellcasting shut down entirely? Even at home, she could cast a paltry spell here and there.

If they thought she was just some sort of… normal spellcaster, one like Doc thought, they would have no way of knowing that! Unless Reiner mentioned it, or explained it, but what did Reiner know? Did she tell Reiner about the grimoire? She couldn’t remember!

The bag was removed, and she found herself in a small wooden room. Rembrandt stared at her with tired eyes. All four of his irises were trained on her.

“If I may be so bold. What the fuck,” Rembrandt said, as he poured himself alcohol into a small shot glass, and downed the entire contents.

Ceyda stared at him.

“You murdered an entire squad of mages, all good men. You created a sanctuary in the town, you cannot be killed--and you are, what? A random chatelaine from a low class family?” Rembrandt spat. “Pray tell, are you even fucking human, or are you some ifrit that took the place of a child when it was young?”

Well, that was very wrong. If she wasn’t human no way would she have stayed with her parents. She would have remained in the woods and become an ethereal monster that demanded worship and offerings of cheese and cake.

“When I was a boy, I trained under Andrea Blanche and her husband, Rainier. She was old then, of course she didn’t look it. They passed before I could become a man, but they told me tales of the ifrit. Horrible creatures that lurked in the dark, and wished to woo us away from human kind. And with all the miasma and magical energy you give off, I’d believe it,” Rembrandt said quietly.

Holy shit what. Andrea’s husband was named Rainier? Had she heard that right? Wait--was Rembrandt afraid of her? If anything she should be asking him such a question! He was terrifying, with his teleporting, his two-irised eyes, and the fact that he had ripped her still-beating heart out.

“I’m going to issue a warning. We will drop you to the bottom of the ocean, and we are going to wait for as long as we need to. And if you’re somehow still alive after a few weeks? Well, then I am going to contact the Sons of Kesterline personally, the ones who serve directly underneath the Crown.” Rembrandt continued. “Your manipulation auras will do nothing to them.”

Manipulation aura? Ceyda stared at him in utter bewilderment, her lips straining against the metal. What was he talking about? What was his version of this story?

“So if you truly are a monster. Go back to whatever hole you came from, or you will be obliterated. And if you somehow are just a chatelaine, trapped in machinations outside of your own doing--”

Rude. This was, regrettably, entirely her own doing.

“--then perhaps, consider this a mercy.”

The room was teetering now, no doubt from setting sail. Her heart started to race. This was it. Either she had guaranteed her own escape, or was going to die. Or something in between. Or both at once. What if they rescued her corpse?

He took out parchment, and quill and ink.

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to write out a confession?”

Ceyda stared at him. Absolutely not. She was confessing to nothing, especially not in the written word.

“I could write it out for you if you want, and you could just sign your name. You stole a book, you’re a traitor to the Crown and all of Kesterline. Blame no one but you ,and in punishment you submit to the ocean for your grievous crimes against nature,” Rembrandt continued.

She continued to stare at him, trying to get her eyes to scream “no” as hard as possible.

Rembrandt sighed. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Rembrandt just stared at Ceyda, his mouth pursed in anger, his nails digging into the small wooden table.

“You know,” Rembrandt finally said. “Perhaps if you… explained what you learned from the antique, we could look to a lesser sentence. After all, your future as it stands is quite bleak. Death. The Sons. None of it will leave you intact.”

He pushed the paper and quill to Ceyda again.

Ceyda took a deep breath, and started to scribble on the paper. Rembrandt smiled.

With a shaking, weak hand, she wrote--

I have no idea what you’re talking about. Apparently everyone can use magic and the book just amplified my own, natural magic.

Rembrandt took the parchment, and squinted in slow confusion as he read the words. Quite suddenly, he crumpled the parchment, stood up, and slammed his hand down on the table.

“Do you think this is a fucking joke? Are you getting some sort of perverse pleasure out of mocking me?” Rembrandt hissed.

Ceyda gave a muffled hiss back, and covered her face with her arms. She had told the truth! What did Rembrandt even want? A full lesson? She wasn’t doing that with ink and a quill!

“Then tell me, chatelaine, what spell have you been using to manipulate everyone?” Rembrandt leaned in close, his breath smelling like burnt flesh.

Ceyda continued to stare at him in bafflement. She shrugged, mumbling between the metal string. She was so lucky she couldn’t die. How many times had Rembrandt wanted to kill her, but refrained from doing so because it was pointless?

“You loosen tongues, you dull the intellect of the men around you, and even now I can feel the miasma worming its way into my mind! You cannot tell me you don’t know what that is! You cannot!”

He gripped her by the collar, and shook her in anger. Her brain rattled in her head, and no muttered spell worked.

What Rembrandt yelled next, Ceyda couldn’t quite make out. All she knew was that one moment he was screaming at her, pushing her against the wall, and then the next, he was sitting back at the table, chugging from a flask, and she was on the floor with a throbbing headache.

She shut her eyes. Doc’s blank passages floated back into her memory. What had Doc been trying to warn her of? Had she been somehow manipulating Rembrandt? Or was he just compensating for the fact that he hated her?

If she was lucky, it wouldn’t matter.

Rembrandt picked up some rope. A book appeared behind him, glowing faintly, as he ran his hands over the rope. It coiled around Ceyda’s hands like a snake, and tied itself into a tight knot.

“We’ll be in the deep ocean shortly,” Rembrandt said, the raging anger gone, replaced with the calm, cool and collected voice she had first heard him use. “So I’d cherish this time, if I were you.”

No sooner did he say this, scattered yells and shouts erupted through the boat. Rembrandt shot up, cursing in annoyance.

“What’s going on out there?” Rembrandt yelled, ducking his head out of the door.

“We’ve got stowaways!” a mage distantly called back.

Rembrandt cursed, left the room, and then came back moments later, grabbing Ceyda by her hands. Evidently he didn’t trust her to be alone.

He dragged her to the deck, where the sky was a brilliant blue, and there was nothing around--no land behind her, and nothing but ocean in front of her. Distantly, blurrily, there was a thick, purple line on the horizon. She didn’t know if that was the start of the poison fields, or just how water looked on the ocean.

There were two more people on the boat than had entered, and they weren’t dressed like mages. Instead they were on their knees, with their hands on their heads.

“We went to find the cleaning supplies to try and kill her again, and turns out they still had the cleaners with them,” Fontaine cocked his head to the two stowaways.

“Ceyda!?”

Oh no.

It was Danette’s voice. Clear as day. The blurry, indistinct shape with long sandy brown hair was Danette. Her eyes glanced at the other figure, paler than Danette, and dirty blond hair. Aster.

She had said she was cleaning with Aster. She had taken Natalia’s mother’s place--but why the boats? Why here? Why now?

This wasn’t supposed to happen! She could barely take care of her own life, and now she had to take care of them too? What if they died? Surely they wouldn’t kill two innocents, right? Maybe they would just kidnap them and strap them into a basement where they would slowly wither away for all eternity.

It had become incredibly hard for Ceyda to stand up straight. Her vision blurred, and she blinked away hot tears. Instead of thinking, her brain shut down, leaving nothing but silence behind.

“Well,” Rembrandt sighed, “I guess we’re murdering three people today.”

“What?” Aster squeaked.

“You--you don’t have to murder us! Just erase our memories! Mages--mages can do that right?” Danette sputtered.

“No, we can’t just--” Fontaine paused. “Can we do that?”

“No, Fontaine, we can’t.”

“Can’t a guy joke a little? No, we can’t,” Fontaine responded. He reached into his coat and withdrew a small wand and idly twirled it in his fingers.

“Fuck you!” Aster yelled. “I hope you all die you damn noble pricks--”

And then he forcibly covered his mouth with his own hands.

Just like last time.

Had it been him? The one, back in Blanche mansion, who had said it to the book? What a silly, stupid memory to have now, as she shook in horror and strained against her sealed mouth.

“We won’t say anything,” Danette pleaded. “I promise--please--just let us go.”

“Shut up. For the Blanche name--”

Realization shot through her spine like a painful jolt.

Ceyda yelled in shock, straining against the metal stitches. She took a step forward, but was stopped by Rembrandt’s leg sweeping her own feet, and she toppled over unceremoniously.

Rembrandt slammed his foot into Ceyda’s back.

“Hurry it up, Fontaine,” Rembrandt said.

Fontaine rolled his eyes. “Just make sure she doesn’t cast at me. Where was I? Right-- For the Blanche name, and the Cr--”

“Stop!” Ceyda screamed, tearing through her stitchings. Blood gushed from her mouth, and Fontaine froze.

“Son of a--” Rembrandt swore, kicking Ceyda over, and summoned a magical orb in his hand, no doubt to kill her yet again.

“I’ll do whatever you want--no not whatever you want ignore that--but I’ll sign the confession and let you try and drown me--” Ceyda said frantically, as realization rushed over like ice cold water. “I’ll tell you what my powers are! I know what they are!”

Fontaine and Rembrandt exchanged glances.

“Sure, girlie,” Rembrandt said, grinning wildly, taking his foot off her back. “That sounds like a fair trade.”

Ceyda shook her head. “No--no it’s not that simple. I want--I want you to agree with me. To promise you’ll follow--follow my terms--”

Her words poured out without thinking, mixing with her blood and spit. She slowly, clumsily, stood up, with no one bothering to help her.

“To not kill them? Fine,” Rembrandt said.

“Ceyda are you fucking stupid?!” Danette screamed. Fontaine pointed his wand at Danette and she fell silent.

“No--no it’s more than that,” Ceyda said. There was a familiar feeling welling in her neck, like a noose tightening. “Do you--do you speak for all the mages here?”

“Sure, chatelaine, sure.”

“So in exchange for that, I want all the mages in Bricketfriar to not kill these two, not torture them, maim them, anything that you can call harm or pain or painharm. You won’t put them or anyone else in Bricketfriar in your basement and--” Ceyda fluttered her eyes. She was getting woozy. “--and I want everyone to forget about the magical beacon in Whiskey Street.”

“I promise,” Rembrandt said dramatically.

“Ceyda! Come on! He’s lying!” Aster spat.

“He promised,” Ceyda insisted. “And I trust him.”

Rembrandt’s grin was palpable. “I’ll write up a suicide note to show your parents, but first, why don’t you tell me your secret?”

“My name is Ceyda Lucrece. As far as I know, I am human. The grimoire is inhabited by gods we do not know and have never heard of. One of them, maybe one of them, chose me, and I think it’s because I’m honest. Not all the time, but a lot of the time. I tell the truth when I can. I like it, it’s easier--” Ceyda paused.

She stared at Danette and Aster. She was nearly choking now, and she was about to find out if she was right.

Everything Doc had tried to warn her about, every little moment up to this point, she had only one guess as to what was going on, and if she was wrong, everyone would die.

“--as for what it allows me to do. I think it makes people have to do what they promise me,” Ceyda finished.

Rembrandt’s smile vanished.

The suffocation broke, and exhaustion hit Ceyda like a truck. She wanted to sleep so badly, but she couldn’t.

“Everyone did what I asked them” Ceyda sleepily muttered to herself. “Reiner told me his name. Merlin found me glasses. You listened to me in the place you called the World of Rites. And Doc kept telling me, didn’t they? Don’t make promises. But then she had that weird friendship spell and had everyone vow to share that spell together--”

Rembrandt stared at Ceyda in growing horror. “What are you talking about? What did you do?”

“What did I tell my parents?” Ceyda continued to babble. “Did it work? I fell asleep after I told them to never speak to me again. Was I just tired or are they brainwashed? I don’t know. They never came to get me, did they? And then you told me I had some weird aura, which means I still had my magic, it makes people want to tell me the truth, doesn’t it?”

No one else was talking now and she didn’t know why, so she kept talking.

“Or maybe it makes them trust me. Or open up to me. But it does something. And you just promised me that you won’t hurt anyone in the town. This entire boat did,” Ceyda giggled. Her vision was spinning. Her heart was soaring, and her lips were still bleeding.

All this time.

All this fucking time.

“I could have saved everyone! I could have saved the entire town! I could have gotten Doc back! If I had just figured this out even a few fucking hours earlier!” Ceyda spat.

“You fucking--absolute lying cunt--”

“I never lied,” Ceyda said, almost choking on the blood she swallowed. “I lied sometimes, but I didn’t lie here. I kept my promise. But you are kidnapping people. You took Doc away from me, and you tried to kill me before my parents arrived to get me. And you were going to kill Aster and Danette for witnessing it.”

Rembrandt looked wildly at Aster and Danette, who were watching silently.

“Kill them alrea--” Rembrandt’s words were cut off, and he staggered forward, nearly falling into Ceyda.

The mages pointed their wands and spells at Aster and Danette, and a slew of half spoken spells were uttered, each one sputtering into shocked silence.

“And if you’re curious, the reason why I think I’m alive right now, is because someone promised they’d help me in whatever way possible. I think they were being sarcastic, unfortunately, I don’t think I’m very good at detecting sarcasm,” Ceyda continued. “I never lied about what I was. I am, ultimately, just a human being.”

Ceyda looked at Aster and Danette. “Get somewhere safe. I don't know what loopholes exist in my words. Merlin’s alive, he’s trapped in the Blanche basement with so many people--they have so many people imprisoned. ”

“Get off the fucking boat!” Rembrandt snarled. “The both of you!”

Danette and Aster stood up, shakily.

“You! Go with them, there has to be a range on this spell, it can’t just be like this. And they have--” Rembrandt frowned. He staggered. “They have… something. They have something that--”

Rembrandt's voice trailed off. There was a moment of silence on the boat.

"They're definitely hiding something," Rembrandt hissed.

He didn’t remember the beacon! It had worked!

“We’re not leaving without Ceyda,” Danette said.

There was an immediate tightening around Ceyda’s neck. She had promised that, hadn’t she. Damn.

“I can’t leave--I promised I’d stay” Ceyda mumbled.

If Reiner was somehow tied to her own healing despite being who knew how far away, there was no way that the spell would evaporate just because they made it to shore. Unless without Doc, it was weakened.

There was a horribly, silent shuffling, as a lifeboat was raised, and Aster and Danette, with one mage, went in, and were lowered down. There was nothing else to do. She wanted to make eye contact with them one last time, but she couldn’t see them from this far, so she just stared in their general direction, her promise ringing in her ears. Had there been a loophole she forgot about? Probably.

But now they had a shot at living. She had done that at least.

No one spoke as the lifeboat paddled away, back to the shore. Ceyda breathed a long sigh of relief. Maybe it would have been better for them to stay here, but that would rely on this hypothetical rescue in the ocean working, and the longer Ceyda was out here, the more she couldn’t believe it.

This was a vast, unyielding ocean. How could anyone find her out here?

Rembrandt kicked her in the chest.

She slammed back into the dock of the boat, her head hit the wood, and she shuddered in pain, unable to breathe.

Her lips were still torn.

And only now did she realize what that meant--she wasn’t being healed. She could die. If anyone tried to kill her out of frustration she would well, and truly, die.

Shit.

She had to get into the ocean. She had forgotten to protect herself, didn’t she? Fuck. Shit. Fuck

She forced herself up, and broke out into a run, straight for the edge of the boat. Fontaine stood in front of her, and pointed his wand at her.

“Do not attack me!” Ceyda ordered. To her surprise, Fontaine paused. Had promises been irrelevant? Had she just been able to order anyone, all this time?

“See, you say that, but I really want to,” Fontaine replied, his voice deadly calm.

And just like that, the thrumming sensation of the order broke, leaving nothing but exhaustion behind. She couldn’t even summon up the energy to fight back, or run a different direction. Instead she fell to her knees, wanting nothing more than to sleep, or perhaps die.

Fontaine quietly walked towards her, idly tapping his wand against his leg.

“So--here’s my suggestion,” Fontaine said brightly. “The chatelaine screwed us over, how about we kill her a few dozen times, and then dump her body in the ocean? We did find the cleaning liquid and there’s a funnel in my bag.”

Ceyda blinked wearily. She had been so close. So fucking close to that ocean. She should have made them promise to toss her in there. Hindsight, as usual, was her mortal enemy. And now she would die for her foolishness. Maybe they would heal Reiner enough times. Maybe she could survive it.

Why oh why, had this been the one time she hadn’t been selfish? She couldn’t even call what she did selflessness, it wasn’t premeditated. It had just been the first problems immediately on her mind.

Amber probably would have gotten everything she wanted and wouldn’t have been beaten up.

Her lips were still torn. Still no healing.

“Why do one thing when you can do both?” Rembrandt rasped. He barked an order Ceyda couldn’t parse.

She was forced to standing, and a chain was wrapped around her body. Not one of Fontaine’s chains, but one from the boat. Weights dangled from the links, making it hard for her to stand up.

She was guided on the edge of the boat, only held up by Rembrandt’s grasp.

“So here’s the deal, I have no idea if you truly can’t die or not, but we’re certainly going to find out.”

The remaining mages withdrew their wands, and pointed them directly at Ceyda. Fontaine, meanwhile, carried in a bucket of intense, foul smelling liquid, and the aforementioned funnel.

“All right, boys, let’s kill this chatelaine,” Rembrandt said.

Fontaine wrenched her jaw open, and stuck the funnel down her throat. No sooner did she start choking, did a foul, poisonous taste pour straight down. She wretched, spasmed, and flailed blindly, vomit already pouring out of her mouth at the sheer taste. Rembrandt and Fontaine held firm, their strength amplified by Dorskina.

She was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die.

She couldn’t breathe, all she could taste was the intense, overwhelming feeling of ingesting deadly and disgusting salt, mixed with stomach acid and bile.

“Now!” Rembrandt yelled.

A dozen ice lances pierced her skin, and sent her off the edge of the boat, into the cold, hard sea below.

The saltwater stung her eyes, and she had been unable to breathe before, and as the funnel wrenched itself out of her mouth, instead of air, water filled her lungs, mixing with the disinfectant.

She sunk to the bottom of the deep ocean, unable to see, to breathe, or even think, weighed down by the chains that dragged her down ever faster.

She didn’t die. She had lost her last breath a while ago, and yet she wasn’t dying. Unless this was death.

Her brain started to slow, like she was falling asleep. Good. Her limbs were numb, and nothing felt real anymore.

Deep, deep in her mind, she could feel Reiner’s body, spasming in pain, as a four armed individual clad in a white mask gripped him tightly.

“We’re losing her!” the four armed individual yelled. “We need more bloom--stat!”

They knew. They knew she was dying. They knew and they were trying. But even Reiner’s heart felt weak. He was dying too.

There was nothing left.

She didn’t know how long she had sank, or how long she was down there, but quite suddenly, a hand forced the funnel back into her mouth.

Mother fucker was drowning in the ocean not enough to--

Her eyes opened in the ocean, and big purple eyes stared back at her. Some sort of. Creature? Something large, maroon at the top, with a large sort of fish like shape. She was thinking now. How was she thinking?

The purple eyed creature smiled, revealing a row of shiny, white teeth. They bit into the chain, and then, behind them, a brilliant blue book shaped object appeared, and a barrage of small magic beams shot into Ceyda’s bonds, breaking them one at a time.

Suddenly, water filled Ceyda’s lungs again, and it was only now that Ceyda realized she had been breathing underwater, however briefly. Water poured back into her lungs, and suffocation overtook her. The creature gripped her tightly, with a scaly, human shaped hand, and Ceyda slowly suffocated yet again. She shut her eyes, wincing in pain from the salt water.

Her mind returned to Reiner, if only for a moment. She looked down and saw his own chest, torn open, ribcage exposed, still beating heart, the smell of the disinfectant she had been forced to ingest overwhelming her senses. Six people, clad in white, applying strange yellow rectangles to the organs.

She opened her eyes, and was brought back into reality with a sudden, sharp snap. Air filled her lungs.

Ceyda coughed, as gallons of seawater, mixed with the smell of disinfectant, and puke burst out. She was in a small, white boat. In the ocean, a young woman with brilliant purple eyes, and a mess of maroon, curly hair. She wore a necklace across her scaly skin, of a half human half fish.

And she had a tail.

Her savior. A mage who was a woman. A mage who was currently panting and heaving just as heavily as she was.

Ceyda stared numbly, hardly daring to believe it, as the unholy concoction continued to pour liberally from her mouth.

Soaking wet, freezing, puking and injured Ceyda looked up, and saw that there were several small, white boats, all holding people clad in pure black, with masks and pipes that looped into their back. One was talking into a black box, speaking in a language Ceyda did not understand.

Behind her, was a brilliant, red, swirling wall of fog, cleaving the ocean in two. The wall that protected Kesterline from the poison fields, and now she was on the other side.

Above her, in the distance, a strangely shaped bird, that looked like a giant metal dragonfly.

So, this was the results of the poison fields, huh?

The person who shared the boat with her removed their strange, black mask. To her surprise, there was no mutation or monster beneath, but the face of a regular human, with golden freckles, that danced across their face like stars.

Ceyda lay down on the small boat. Her body demanded rest. She couldn’t stay awake much longer.

The unmasked human spoke in stilted, awkward Lystratan, with an accent Ceyda had never encountered before in her life.

Ceyda could barely make it out, but she caught one sentence, just before she passed out--

“Welcome to the rest of the world, Ceyda Lucrece.”

End of Part One.