With the sun yet to rise in the east, the moon was clear in the western sky. It was the first night since leaving Manataklos that Lyrua could see it. The early slivers of golden light peeking over the horizon reflected off the edge of Machina’s mighty rings, so that Lyrua could just see them. It was said that seeing Machina was good luck, that it meant the Gods were watching over you. She was not sure whether she believed it. Or whether she wanted their attention. Athen gripped her hand tightly, watching the rings with a wide grin.

Ove led them to the harbour, steeped in a salty wind that tossed her hair across her eyes. Despite the early hour, there were not many ships remaining, but those still moored were busy with sailors making urgent last-minute preparations. Lyrua spied a few vessels already on the horizon, and squinted vainly against the mist to see them clearer.

Waves splashed high enough to lap at the guard ropes and pool on the tops of the thick wood posts. Lyrua pulled Athen’s cloak around him to keep him dry in the spray. She had to walk holding her trousers pulled up to keep them from catching mud and brine, or she would have held her blouse over her nose to keep out the stench of fish.

She followed Ove to a brilliant whitewood ship moored at the far end of the docks as though shy of the others. Underbolge was engraved across the port hull in red lettering. It was a marvellous ship that reflected moonlight along its silver edges and pristine white sails. The sea crashed against it, but the ship did not roll as heavily as the others. The ship had a silver blade across the stern to slice through waves, and its twin on the bow defeated the oncoming tide.

Fourstaile stopped them before they reached the boarding ramp, holding her arms out like stubby branches. She gave a plain wooden box with no carvings and a simple lock on it to Ove. “You won’t need that until you return,” she said. Ove tucked the box away, and Fourstaile looked up at Lyrua. “I wish I could go with you, but the worst is long past. Ove and Lander will be able to protect you. If you can find a ship, you can be on your way to Morgen a week before Highest Tide, and if not, just wait it out.”

“The Legendarisk can sail any sea without effort,” Lander boasted in his deepest voice. “If we find it, we can just put our feet up the rest of the journey.” He rolled his shoulders, impatient to be off.

Fourstaile patted Athen’s head, then held his chin so he had to meet her eyes. “Listen to me, young man. Any time you feel the itch of mischief or disobedience, remember that being a mother is one of the most harrowing things a person can do. A mother’s mind can become infested with cruel thoughts of all the things that could take her babies from her. She loves you, and your new sister, as much as anything can be loved. Obey her, so she can concentrate on caring for you, and not fearing for you. Do you understand?”

Athen nodded, but his eyes welled with tears. Lyrua remembered well the feeling of being told to behave as though she could not be expected to mind herself. She sighed, recalling her brief time with Dew.

Fourstaile rubbed his head again and pulled him into an embrace. “Listen, Athen. Once I was just the tender of the Citadel gardens,” she told him with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. “I tended them for centuries, and knew every flower, twig, and leaf as if they were my own. Until a mischievous little Princess began getting lost in the bushes, stepping on roots and bending stems with her absentmindedness. I faced the Queen’s ire when she discovered her daughter was missing lessons.

“I told little Lyrua the same thing I just told you. She didn’t listen to me. In fact she defiantly picked all the flowers, only to cry when they withered in her room. She didn’t know what it meant to treat plants gently with love and song. But, I think if you asked her now she would say she understands. I digress, but my point is that no one is asking you to be perfect. Even your mother is not. I only ask that when things are difficult you try to be considerate. Even if you do not understand now, you will grow up a better adult for it, just as she has.” Fourstaile let the Prince go. Looking at Lyrua, a reluctant tear escaped from the Highward’s eye. She wound her arms around Lyrua’s waist and squeezed her.

Lyrua frowned at the old memories before returning the hug. She was a little surprised to hear how long Fourstaile had been in the gardens. Fourstaile must have always been there, sternly watching over them even since her mother was little. “Thank you for everything, Fourstaile.” She let her tears come freely. “Take care of Manataklos for me.”

Fourstaile nodded, her chrysanths bobbing in her hair. “The Spellwards will be here when you return.” She hugged Ove and Lander, then stood back to watch them from the docks as a slender crewmate led them aboard the Underbolge.

At the top of the ramp, Lyrua turned back to look at Fourstaile. The Highward stood watching with her arms crossed as firmly as an old oak. West Eddy sprawled out behind her, cloaked in morning mist, quietly contrasting the busy port. The last ships made ready for an early departure. She tried to remember every detail, so she could compare when she returned.

The crewmate took them through a creaking hall to the Captain’s chamber, which was modest, except for the size of the furniture. The bed was elongated to accommodate the stunning Orphan of Insight who sat on its edge regarding them with curiosity. The crewmate left, leaving them alone with her, and Lyrua felt chilled by the woman’s dominating presence.

“So this is High Queen Lyrua Kirkegaard,” her voice rang like a sombre hymn. “Not as big as I expected.”

Lyrua crossed her arms. “What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“What indeed?” She rose gracefully to her feet, a broad smile across her face. “Do you have the coin?” Her long fingers uncurled in front of Lyrua.

Ove hopped forward. “Here!” she squawked, and waved her cloak like a flag until a chest tumbled out with a loud crack that made the Captain wince. “You said if we feed our selves, two hundred a head, half for the boy.”

“I did.” Delibera tilted her head. Her emerald eyes scanned the crack in her floor. For a moment her horns, branched like antlers, blazed with light that made the white planks appear green. A thin crack beneath the chest suddenly glowed brightly, as if verdant flames roared beneath. “And ten for the wood,” she added.

“Sorry,” Ove said, “The chest is too heavy for me to lift.” She clicked the box open, and took a sack of gold out. She counted ten coins back into the box before disappearing it with a flick of her wrist. “Eight-hundred and ten.” She shied away as the Captain stepped forward.

“I’m surprised you aren’t trying to swindle us out some more, knowing it’s the Queen.” Lander grumbled, as Delibera lifted the chest easily with one hand and placed it in a drawer.

Delibera scoffed. “She has no authority here, so why should I charge her more than anyone else? I am in charge. She can find a different ship if she wants someone to lick her boots and call her ‘Highness’.”

Lyrua rolled her eyes, but Lander turned his head to hide a snicker under his hat.

“Now, Lyrua, do you know what Diagnosticate is?” She wore a devious grin. Whatever it was, she would take pleasure in it.

“No,” Lyrua said, “but if Ove agreed to it, then I do not fear it.”

“It’s a simple thing we Insight do that tells us how to kill another. Not that we usually need it.” She shrugged one shoulder, hefting the long blade on her back. “It feels like a burn, but not a bad one, so ready yourself.”

“I am ready,” Lyrua said without thought. Then gulped as panic gripped her. Delibera raised her arm straight, pointing at Lyrua’s face. Ove pulled Athen back and hid behind Lander with him. Lyrua turned her head to see her son, but the Captain snapped her fingers to ensnare her attention. A silent green light pulsed from the Captain’s forehead to the tip of her horns, and an emerald ray burst from her finger and slammed Lyrua in the face.

She stumbled backwards, feeling her body tilt and fall, but she never landed on the ground. She kept falling as the world spun around her. The bed to her left and Lander to her right appeared on top of each other in her vision, with Delibera towering over both. Her head burned as the cabin stilled, and she touched the burning ring in her forehead that spouted green light like a fountain of flame. Though her head burned, the light itself was not hot, and the burning dissipated as the light faded.

“Your greatest power is that you are a Descendent. Boring.” She grinned wider until her teeth showed. “Attuned to Light and Water, and bearing quite a lot of mana, but you can be killed the same as any human.” Without lowering her arm, she turned it to Lander. The pulse shot out at him, but shattered into sparks on his chest. Lander and the Captain laughed. “That always disappoints me, but we already know you need to cut an Iron’s crystal to kill them.”

Lander grunted.

Delibera turned her finger next to Ove, and the little woman leaped out to stand before Lyrua. The green pulse hit her, and her entire head burst with light. Some of her feathers stuck up, but she otherwise remained calm until the light faded.

Delibera’s smile fell away, and she stared at Ove with consternation. “Where are the other four?”

“In the cloak.” Ove held up her cloak, and Lyrua could just make out white beaks poking out of the folds.

“Keep them in there until you’re off my ship, or I’ll charge you for each one.” She hissed, waving them away. Lyrua was not convinced the headcount was what offended her, but the Captain’s mood had suddenly curdled like milk in vinegar, and she did not want to be around to find out if it became rancid.

The same elegant crewmate took them to a chamber below deck, where a small bunk was cramped against each wall. The claustrophobic room immediately filled Lyrua with a passionate desire to sleep anywhere else, which was doubled as she noticed the man already snoring.

Kraesten sprawled on the bunk as if discarded there, his odd helmet sat on his chest, and a scabbarded silver sword hung off the post of the bed.

“Pluck my feathers, what is that fool doing here?” Ove squawked.

With two heavy steps Lander was beside the bunk, looking down on the silken. He woke him with a rough smack on the cheek.

“What?!” Kraesten sputtered, twisting to look around the room. His helm rolled off his chest and clattered on the ground. “Nickel?” He blinked furiously at the metal man.

“What are you doing here?” Lander growled, puffing steam into Kraesten’s face.

“I’m headed to Kraken’s Boundary to help with Highest Tide. I told you that already.” He bent as if to sit up, but the ceiling was too low, so he rolled over to rest on his forearms instead. “Hello Sermeledy,” he said playfully, winking past Lander.

“If you touch the Lady, you’ll sleep on the anchor,” he warned.

He coughed a laugh. “… Don’t trouble yourself on my behalf.” He rolled over and shut his eyes.

Ignoring Kraesten, they set themselves up in the room, which did not mean much. With little space to place anything that was not needed for sleeping or standing, they kept everything in Ove’s cloak. The ship lurched and rocked as they broke away from the docks, accompanied by a murmur of voices trickling down through the ship. Athen clung to the bedpost, excitedly leaning with the sway of the ship.

They ate a hot breakfast of boiled eggs and bacon Ove had in her cloak, with buttered wedges of bread, and then Athen insisted on reading to pass the time. There was little else to do in such confining quarters.

The Fall of Eftermid was beginning to describe the nuances that allowed the continent to collapse. Athen perked up when mana currents were mentioned. They were not often discussed, so she was surprised to see this book cover them in such detail.

She tried to simplify it so Athen could understand. “Origin mana flows from…” She paused. Where she expected the book to say ‘Machina’ as they taught in the Church, the book was written ‘Continuum’, though it offered no explanation of what that word meant.

“Machina,” Athen said. “I know everything comes from Machina.” He leaned under her chin for a better look at the page.

“Yes, very good.” She thought it must be some old term or perhaps a relic of the dialect of Eftermid. Athen had not noticed, so at least she would not have to try and make an explanation for him. “The mana flows like streams and touches all living things,” she finished.

“The Liferot Blight was more than a plague; it knew where the mana flow diverted to seep into things with life and sought them out. It found every single thing that lived in Eftermid and rotted it away.”

“But where did it come from? What stopped it?” He asked, grabbing at the book.

Lyrua brushed his hand away and flipped through the pages, pretending to look for an answer she knew was not there. The cause of the Blight was a great mystery. “I know Liferot is baulked by bodies of water, so it could not leave the continent, and died off. As for the cause…” She paused again, eyeing the familiar words on the page with disbelief. “The Yawning Sun?”

“From Daetan’s story? I know about him.” Athen patted the book. “Daetan destroyed his army, but she gave away her soul to return her friends to life without risk of Second Death.”

Reading further into the book gave Lyrua goosebumps. Her palms grew clammy and she once again found herself questioning Cyan the Provident’s motivations in giving the book to her. It is because of the path you have chosen that you should heed the warnings in the tome.

“It says he brought… Jealous of Daetan’s power, he developed his own spell and brought it before the ruling Lords and Ladies of Eftermid. A spell to imitate Daetan’s own immortality. But upon casting it… it brought complete death instead.” She turned the page with shaking hands. She should not have accepted this book from Cyan. There was no way her son just happened to have a tome of knowledge that no one else had known. “Angels,” she read, “brought by Archangel Faaldet, the Guardian of Soulhollow…” There was another word she did not know, but it made her ankles shake all the same. ‘Demons.’

She slammed the book shut.

Athen looked around the room with a frown. “Someone was watching us read,” he said, crawling to the edge of the bed and staring at the door to the cabin. Ove and Lander followed his gaze, but there was of course nothing there but the door.

“Might be Cyan.” Ove slipped the book into her cloak. “Reading it could tell her where you are, or some thing.”

“Better to keep it hidden then,” Lyrua agreed. She tried to brush down the raised hairs on her arms. “I do not know what that woman wants of us but I am reluctant to let her have it.”

Now Lyrua was desperate to keep Athen quiet and distracted from dark tales, so she brought him up to spend time with him on deck. They stood out of the way of the crew and watched Manataklos shrink on the horizon. The Tower was another matter, only vanishing after becoming nothing more than a sparkling strand of spider’s silk dangling from the heavens. The first humans, coming to Daggry from the north, must have gone mad with awe seeing that tower come into view. A beacon drawing them to one of the most powerful places on Ankermune. And even more wondrous, to find the place derelict. Such people would mock her for leaving. Her own mother… she shook off the thought. Her mother was gone.

She was the mother now.

Athen watched nervously as the ocean reached for the deck with lurching waves, whimpering when the water climbed too high and breached the edge of the deck. She tried to massage the tension from his shoulders, but he still begged her to return below deck.

She had been enjoying the fresh air, but she gave in and led him back down. Kraesten was not in the cabin, having gone off to annoy the crew, so they remained there in Ove’s company. Athen fervently insisted that Ove tell him the story of Daetan’s Army again. Lyrua knew what he was up to, trying to hear about the Yawning Sun, but she allowed Ove to perform it so at least he would be quiet and still.

Using Sound to project unique voices, red-haired Daetan leaped through the room with her nemesis, the Sunflower called the Yawning Sun. It was the Yawning Sun that commanded Athen’s attention, captivating him like a squirrel caught by a musespider as it danced around the beds.

She eventually had to ask Ove to stop when he requested she repeat the scenes with the Yawning Sun for a fourth time. It was getting late anyway, and her stomach was growling for supper. So they ate while the sun set, and then she lay down and let the rocking of the ship lull her to an early sleep.

It was past dawn when Ove shook her awake, by the rays of light infiltrating the cabin through the porthole. Athen was ready with his bag and cloak, watching her with an eager grin. “We have reached Flow, but Ove will not let me outside without you.” He bounced on the balls of his feet.

“I bet you cannot wait to see it,” she said, brushing the thin sheets aside.

“Yes!” He pulled her arm, and pain shot through her side as she leaned forward. “Did I hurt you?” He asked, noticing her wince.

“No, I think this bed gave me a kink. Can you help me?” She pulled him close so he could soothe her with his most powerful spell.

“Healing Hug!” he exclaimed, squeezing her with both arms. She felt the chill of his Light tickle her muscles, mingling with the warmth of his love, and her soreness was simply gone.

The baby kicked. “Your sister says good morning.” Lyrua said. He gave her belly a kiss, and they followed Ove above deck.