The next day, Sammy and Julie stayed at the priory for breakfast and lunch, then snuck out to return to the port town. After they put up the horses and had an early dinner, they found a captain of a cattle ship; Sammy negotiated a stall for them to use.

In the last of the daylight, they stocked up on boiled water and food that kept well. It wasn’t that Sammy expected the journey to take long—they should even arrive the same day—but that she rather thought things had been going too well.

Of course, Julie laughed at hearing that. “Maybe you’ve read too many books.”

Sammy simply smiled in reply, a knowing look in her eye.

They went to sleep early, sharing a bed out of habit from the last couple of nights, and woke up before daybreak. Many others did too, but it was somewhat easier to get two horses to the docks than a herd of cattle. The ship itself was massive, grandly imposing even without the sails up, oars sticking out of a dozen slots on each side.

Despite their early arrival, the captain had them wait to the side. “No need t’sit aboard, ye can get on last,” he said in Sonlettian, looking over their horses. “Fine things, won’t fuss, eh?”

Sammy agreed, then told Julie what he’d said.

So they watched the cows board, Julie idly counting twenty, seemingly a person for each as the cargo hold bustled with people—herders and sailors. From what Sammy asked and heard in passing, she told Julie that merchant companies would buy the cattle here and then ship them over to sell in Dworfen. This way, the farmers wouldn’t risk ruin if something happened on the journey; the companies were well insured for such losses.

Julie was interested to hear that, albeit struggling a bit to understand. Seeing Julie’s expression, Sammy softly laughed, squeezing her hand. “I shan’t test you later on what we have learned, I simply wish to understand the merchant’s life in case it may be to our benefit later on.”

Eventually, the cattle were secured, one of the crew calling Sammy and Julie to board. So they led their horses along the shallow ramp into the ship. The cargo hold was mostly made up of stalls, each with two cows in them, suspended on cloth slings. A pair of sailors guided them to the stall straight ahead and took charge of “raising” the horses; cranking up the slings, the horses came just a little off the floor.

Sammy was fascinated by the process, Julie’s initial curiosity giving way to watching Sammy, something about that bright expression too much for Julie to resist.

Once the horses were up, the sailors checked Sammy was happy they were comfortable. She deferred to Julie, so Julie inspected them using what she knew of their personalities, finding their ears up, no tension around their eyes or muzzle. “They’re fine,” she said.

Sammy passed that on to the sailors. Then she and Julie were led up to the deck, all the way to the captain. It was a ship for short distances, so, never mind guest rooms, there wasn’t even a crew quarters; however, there was the captain’s cabin at the back end of the deck. He offered them the room, but Sammy declined.

“It is our first trip on the seas, so we would like to admire the view,” she said.

He gave a shrug and idly tapped the tiller. “If ye change yer mind,” he said.

“You have our thanks,” she said, giving a shallow curtsey.

Sammy and Julie found a spot on the deck where they wouldn’t be in the way. After a short wait, the tide finally swelled enough to lift the ship and they looked at each other with giddy smiles, the way the ship gently rocked such a strange feeling. Although Sammy had been out on lakes before, she hadn’t stood, the waters calm.

With a shout of, “Treebour,” the oars splashed and the ship started to turn. The sailors on deck hoisted the trio of sails, running back and forth as if the ever-changing tilt didn’t exist. Once the ship faced the open sea, a drum was beat in a steady rhythm and the ship gradually moved forwards.

That refreshing breeze that had reached them inland couldn’t compare to the smell out here. And the spray—it rarely reached them, but, when it did, it made them laugh like children chasing and fleeing the waves crashing on a beach.

By the time the land disappeared behind them, an hour had passed, yet the ship still kept a slow pace. However, the waves had grown in size, ship lurching and swaying this way and that, creaking as the hull twisted.

Julie had taken all this in stride, something very natural to her about staying steady on her feet. Meanwhile, Sammy had rather taken some liberties, clinging to Julie. It wasn’t that she fell over at any point, just that she disliked how she teetered and jerked—not the kind of elegance she expected of herself.

Of course, it was entirely elegant to hold the railing with one hand and have her other arm wrapped around Julie’s waist. It was, after all, known that an important responsibility of a lover was to provide unconditional support.

“I don’t think this is what that means,” Julie said wryly.

“Nonsense. If I twisted my ankle, would you not help me?” Sammy asked.

Once again, Julie reminded herself that she should never argue with Sammy.

After a few hours more on the rough water, it somewhat calmed down, the ship simply rocking as it crested the shallow waves. “These are the Dworfen fishing waters,” Sammy said. “They start here at the southern tip, then go all along the western side of the island.”

“What makes it good for fishing?” Julie asked, having guessed that was why they were called fishing waters.

Sammy hummed a note, then rattled off the explanations from her geography lessons. Once she finished, she looked at Julie, amused by the blank expression. “Let us just say that it is safe for small boats to fish and that there are plenty of fish to catch.”

“Okay,” Julie said, nodding.

The sun wasn’t quite overhead, but their shade had retreated. So they decided to retreat as well and treated themselves to a light lunch in the captain’s cabin. What a little treat it was too, bread buns with crushed nuts mixed in and then soft cheese piped inside, water on the side to wash it down.

They stayed in the cabin, then. Midday came and went until, in the early afternoon, finally a call of land ahead rang out.

“Ah, the lookout has spotted land—let’s see!” Sammy said, so excited that Julie faintly thought something was up.

But she didn’t care, letting Sammy lead her outside by the hand. Rather than the cabin’s shadow, Sammy took them towards the front of the ship and Julie had to say, “Slow down,” after the second time Sammy nearly fell.

Sammy laughed, her voice mingling with the breeze.

Right at the front now, Sammy returned to the comfortable position of holding the railing and Julie, but Julie felt like it was… more intimate this time. She felt uneasy, conscious of the sailors, yet she said nothing.

No, if she said something, then Sammy might have stopped, so she said nothing. It was a complicated feeling that trapped her in her thoughts, not the first time either. A bittersweet flavour that she’d come to like.

Deep in thought, she was caught entirely by surprise at the sight that crested the horizon. “What is that?”

Sammy said, “Patience.”

She left it there, letting Julie truly take in the sight. Before any mountains or trees or buildings, there was a fire that burned a very pale blue, trapped inside a glass ball that was some fifty strides across. From such a distance, it was little more than a tower, but noticeable.

After half an hour, Julie could see the air waver around the glass ball. “Fire?”

“Mm,” Sammy said, then asked, “Would you like to know about it?”

“Yeah,” Julie said, almost a whisper.

Sammy took in a deep breath and put her thoughts into order. “That is, to put it simply, a divine flame. It is perhaps even older than written records, if it is indeed the same flame written about in the earliest records. As such, it has countless names in every language; for ours, we often call it the Primordial Fire, or the Ancestral Fire.”

Julie thought for a moment. “Is it… burning alcohol?”

Sammy was pleasantly surprised, that certainly a good thought for why it burned blue. But it was still wrong. “No, it is ‘divine’ in a most literal sense: a miracle which burns water and, rather than smoke, produces steam. And the steam condenses back into water, so you will see that it is perfectly sealed, endlessly fuelling itself.”

“Wow,” Julie murmured.

Sammy smiled. “Would you like to hear more?” she asked.

“Yeah, everything,” Julie said, enthusiasm colouring her voice.

“Very well,” Sammy said with a smile. “This goes back to long before even the Catastrophe. The early civilisations on Humen viewed this Primordial Fire as a gift from the gods, something given to us so that we could invent our own. However, here on Dworfen, it was believed that the Primordial Fire is in fact a god who chose to descend from the heavens, and that all fires are his children.

“Then there is Alfen. In their mythologies, spread across the various regions, they have many demigods, children born from a mortal but sired by a god—or goddess. And these mortals aren’t only people, but animals or plants. Well, that isn’t important. What is important is that several of these demigods have credit for stealing the Primordial Fire from the gods, often greatly punished for doing so. They also believe that there is Primordial Fire inside of us all, which is what gives us life and is why we die so quickly without water.”

After saying all that, Sammy had to pause to catch her breath. She also looked at Julie, glad to see that, while likely confused, it seemed that Julie had been listening.

That was confirmed when Julie asked, “Is that true? We have fire inside us?”

Sammy couldn’t help but laugh, which made Julie pout as she felt teased. Once Sammy calmed down, she let go of the railing and brought her hand to Julie’s cheek, cupping it. “Tell me, does my hand feel as hot as steam?”

Even if it did, Julie wouldn’t have been able to tell as her cheek quickly became so hot it prickled. Unable to meet Sammy’s gaze, Julie lowered her own and mumbled, “No.”

Oh Sammy wanted to kiss her precious jewel, so thoroughly enticed. But she held back out of consideration of the sailors who had not paid for such a show. Reluctantly, she returned her hand to the railing and continued sharing what she knew.

“The Primordial Fire has been stolen and pillaged countless times throughout pre-history. Before the Calamity, such things were common. The men of Dworfen were well-known archers and often formed mercenary companies, taking part in foreign wars for riches, bringing back rare artefacts… and women. But that is something else.

“As I said, it burns water. So the ancient Dworfens used it if any foreigners tried to invade this part of the coastline. Before it was sealed in glass, they kept it in a giant dish and, upon spotting any enemy ships, they would spill some onto the sea. Apparently, it would spread all the way to the horizon. And even though it would quickly burn itself out once separated from the father flame, that was long enough to set alight the ships, engulfing the people aboard and—”

Sammy stopped herself there, realising how morbid what she was about to say was.

“My apologies, I found myself somewhat carried away,” she said softly.

She didn’t dare see what expression Julie now showed, worried the unpleasant talk had upset her. So Sammy waited anxiously until Julie finally spoke.

“Before the Catastrophe, the world wasn’t a good place, was it?”

Well, Sammy had mentioned as much before. “It certainly seems that way to us.” She did not mention how some writings so glorified the battles and wars they had waged, how honourable such deaths had been, how even the gods had supported the bloodshed in both words and deeds.

No, she stayed silent.

Slowly but surely, the ship drifted close to the land. There was a natural harbour where thick mooring posts stuck out the top of the water, but the sailors lowered the sails and the captain steered them around the harbour, beaching further along the coast.

It was another hour before the tide had let out enough. Getting to work, the sailors put down planks on the beach, making a path from the sand to the solid ground. Only then did the ramp come down.

“Thank you for being so accommodating,” Sammy said to the captain.

He adjusted his cap. “There’s a town along tha-tway,” he muttered, sticking his thumb to the right.

Sammy smiled, bowing her head.

Their horses were let down and led out first; Julie gave them a quick check before taking them along the planks, a more thorough inspection once they weren’t in the way. “All good,” she said.

“Then let us begin the next leg of our adventure,” Sammy said, mounting her horse. “The captain recommended we go north.”

Julie wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t there a port that way?” she asked, gesturing the other direction.

“I think it may be the case that it is rather crowded. No doubt, more ships will be arriving,” Sammy said, her gaze darting across the horizon out at sea, pockmarked by sails and hulls.

“Ah, right,” Julie said.

Bringing her gaze back to land, Sammy smiled. “Shall we visit the lighthouse on the way?”

Julie’s mouth opened, the words forgotten as she then turned and looked up. It was not strictly a lighthouse, but simply a giant lattice that seemed as if a mesh tube had been twisted, countless spirals of blue-green metal that tightened in the middle and then flared at the top, upon which the colossal ball of glass held the divine flame. From this nearer view, Julie could even see some flickers of the barely visible flame atop the water.

Sammy took that awed gaze as Julie agreeing.

So they set off, following a well-trodden road. On one side, there was the beach and sea; on the other, the land had been cleared and meadows grew, but half of it had already been grazed.

It didn’t take them long to reach the lighthouse’s base. The land jutted out into the sea, a stubborn chunk of rock with steep cliffs on all sides, refusing to be weathered away. Huge nails had been hammered straight into it, holding down the lighthouse.

“We do not actually know how it was made,” Sammy idly said.

Julie touched the cold metal. “We don’t?” she asked.

“It was built in the early centuries after the Catastrophe, supposedly with miraculous insight,” Sammy said.

“What?”

Sammy giggled, her eyes pinching. “My apologies, I learned all of this in lessons and so I was expected to repeat every sentence with all the fancy words and pompousness,” she said. “What I meant to say is that the gods apparently sent a vision to one of the kings, telling him to find a certain child and raise that boy with a good education. That boy then became a genius who designed this lighthouse and oversaw its construction, as well as renovating the Holy Cathedral.”

Pausing there, Sammy frowned.

“Perhaps it should be the other way? I imagine it’s more likely the gods cared about the cathedral than this…” she said.

Julie nodded along, but her focus had slipped back to the lighthouse, feeling so incredibly small. It truly seemed as if it scraped the sky, taller than any building or tree she had ever seen before.

After admiring it for a little longer, Sammy sharing a couple more things she knew about it, they carried on. Another short ride took them to the outskirts of the town. It was only now that Julie realised that, really, she knew nothing about the people of Dworfen. “Are we supposed to get down?” she asked.

Sammy shook her head. “Loosely speaking, there are formalities, but I am of the nobility and you are my lover.”

Julie wasn’t sure how that last part could matter, but took Sammy at her word. “And you said they speak their own language here?”

“Yes,” Sammy said. “We call it Dworfen, but that is something of a misnomer. This island and the country is called Dworfen; the people here are Dworfish and so we should say they speak Dworfish. Alas, our country has had very weak ties to here and, somewhere in the past, we misunderstood.”

It seemed to Julie that Sammy had slipped back into her history lessons.

“While I can speak it, I am not near as fluent as I am in Sonlettian, but we should get by,” Sammy said. After a moment’s thought, she continued. “Well, I have heard that, because of all the trade in the last century, quite a few here now speak Sonlettian as well.”

Julie wasn’t sure what to say. “That’ll be… helpful.”

“Indeed.”

Like when they had first entered Sonlettier, Julie soon found herself overwhelmed by a sense of foreignness as they entered the town. It was even greater than before. The buildings all had such strange designs, simple and only ever one storey tall, made entirely of wooden planks—more like large sheds than houses.

But there was a beauty to them, clearly built with care and consideration. They were symmetrical, level, and the plain walls had engravings that she couldn’t quite make out.

Noticing Julie’s interest, Sammy said, “This side of the island is prone to coastal flooding, so they practise moocahnsheen, which roughly means: embracing the transience of nature.”

“Oh,” Julie said.

By the time Sammy had found a stable they could rent, the town’s impact on Julie had lessened, feeling settled now. She wasn’t worried for the horses’ condition, so just made sure there was nothing stuck in their horseshoes. Thinking of it, she said, “We should find a farrier soon.”

“Really? After only… a month?” Sammy said.

“They should be fine for another week, probably even two. But….”

Sammy nodded and said, “Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah.”

The town that had seemed so small on horseback felt more normal on foot, more busy. While the townsfolk had kept a distance before, Sammy and Julie were now part of the crowd, only kept together by their joined hands. From the shouts, Sammy knew the fishing boats had come ashore.

Having noted some inns while on their search for a stable, Sammy led the way from one to the next until they found a spare room. The innkeeper, an elderly woman with more wrinkles than teeth, said that it was so busy because the merchants and stewards were waiting for the shipments to arrive from Sonlettier.

Room booked, they put down their packs and walked around the town in the last of the day’s light. Julie quickly became fascinated by the intricate engravings, poor Sammy squeezed for every drop of knowledge she had, wracking her mind to remember more. The meanings of certain symbols, ancient mythology, traditional Dworfish names—it was harder than any test her tutors had ever put her through.

Fortunately for Sammy, the smells of food soon distracted Julie. Freshwater fish had been somewhat common in Schtat and especially so in the palace garrison, the Royal Palace situated amongst the lakes and forests of the south. The scent of grilled fish was something nostalgic for Julie.

However, when they came to the stalls—little more than open fires on the beach with a wooden plank stuck in the sand for a menu, fish and their prices scratched on in charcoal—she didn’t recognise anything.

“These are from the ocean: flatfish, shrimp, lobster, crab,” Sammy said, pointing out the strangest-looking ones.

More grossed out than curious, regardless of how Sammy described their taste, Julie chose a bass in the end. Out of consideration for Julie, Sammy ordered herself a cod and handed over a couple of Sonlettian coins.

When Sammy thought about it, she laughed, this the first time Julie had been squeamish around food. Of course, Julie asked why Sammy was laughing and then frowned at the answer. “They’re, like, giant bugs,” she mumbled.

“There are some places where they do cook insects,” Sammy replied lightly.

Julie said no more and just watched the grilling. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed like the woman cooking the fish was the fisherman’s wife. There was something… almost familiar about the little looks they shared, how she giggled after he’d said something.

For only a second, she wondered if she and Sammy would be like them one day.

Shy from that thought, she didn’t look up again, staring at the fire until their food was ready. Hers was served on a copper plate, part of it green. She was used to tin plates, but not copper, and not copper with a splodge on it.

“It’s fine,” Sammy whispered. “That’s just what tarnished copper looks like.”

“Okay,” Julie said.

They walked farther onto the beach, past the stalls but not too close to the crashing waves, and sat down. The salty air mingled with the smell of roasted fish, the chill making the plate’s warmth on Julie’s lap pleasant.

However, when she looked to the side, Sammy had already taken her own shoes and socks off, bare feet wriggling into the sand. It wasn’t exactly the first time Julie had seen Sammy’s bare feet, but the other times had been in their bedroom. Even then, she’d not really looked at them, just passing glances.

So it was strange seeing them now. And her gaze was drawn to them with how they wriggled, only natural to look at things that moved. Cute toes at the end of small feet, slender ankles, smooth shins, a hint of shapely calves.

Having been busy playing, Sammy belatedly noticed Julie’s staring. Now that she did, she slowly reached down and, ever so slightly, tugged the hem higher.

Alas, her flirting alarmed Julie who then turned away with reddened cheeks. Sammy giggled, but said nothing of it, letting her hem back down and picking up her plate of fish. In silence, they picked at their food with the copper forks.

While they ate, the sun drifted lower in the sky, setting the clouds and waves alight. Such a beautiful sight, they came to a silent agreement to stay long after they had finished eating. Sammy had shuffled closer and rested her hand on top of Julie’s.

Like that, night fell, but the town behind them was still bustling. “Let’s have a treat,” Sammy said with a smile.

Seeing that, Julie felt herself smiling back. She nodded. But, once they’d stood up and turned around, something caught her eye—something high up. She’d thought it was a moon at first, only realising what it actually was when she looked at it.

“Wow,” she murmured.

Sammy knew what Julie was looking at even before she turned to the lighthouse. There, high in the dark sky, a blue fire burned. It was not the brightest, but it shone well in the twilight, would shine brighter as the night grew darker, all the more so with only the cremoon to light the night sky.

A beautiful start to the second leg of their long journey.

Once Julie had admired it enough, they walked into town. Many places were still open, had in fact only opened in the last few hours, pubs and taverns for those who had spent the day fishing.

Sammy found one little shop, loud inside, not because of the customers, but because of hissing and spitting pots of oil. Julie was surprised by it, then worried. She’d seen some of the scars the cooks at the palace had from frying in oil. The old man running the shop certainly had those scars too, even on his face, but he showed no fear as he used various tools to place foods into the pots and scoop them out.

Comforted by his apathy, she watched as he cooked whatever it was Sammy had ordered for them. They looked like breaded sausages before they went in, then came out a golden brown, left on a rack to drip while he cooked a few more. At the end, he neatly stacked them on a wooden plate.

“He says he will tell us when they are cool enough to eat,” Sammy said, leading Julie to a small table.

Julie nodded.

It was very fragrant, though, something that smelled delicious in the crust. Sammy couldn’t help herself and leant in close for a sniff. Julie would have laughed at the sight, but she joined in, only for their heads to bump. When their eyes met, they both chuckled.

Not long after that, the shopkeeper said, “Tabbeh.”

Sammy didn’t even translate, poking her fork into one and bringing it to Julie’s mouth. “Try it,” she said, her voice quick with excitement.

Although amused, Julie obediently opened her mouth and bit off a bit. After a couple of tentative chews, her eyes opened wide and she hurriedly swallowed to say, “Cheese?”

“Yes,” Sammy replied before having a bite for herself.

Between the two of them, the plate of food didn’t last long at all, only crumbs left. As tempted as Sammy was to buy more, she knew there would be many chances to have all kinds of fried snacks over the next month.

With that, they returned to the inn and took turns to wash, changing into their nightclothes afterwards. Then, alone in the small room, their excitement from the novel day gave way to tiredness, deep and heavy. They had no energy left for dancing or even reading.

However, having booked the same one-bed room that they always had, Sammy found the energy to ask, “Will you be joining me tonight?”

Julie lazily looked over, taking a moment longer to realise what Sammy’s pat of the bed meant. That woke her up. Just, well, the thought of sharing the bed with Sammy wasn’t… ticklish. Not only that, but, when she thought about sleeping on the floor, she felt unpleasant.

That was right: not ticklish, but unpleasant. It was different to when Sammy had asked for kisses and things like that. Julie knew that, now, she didn’t want to sleep on the floor.

She knew she wanted to sleep beside Sammy.

“Yes,” Julie said, a whisper that crossed the room and brought a warm smile to Sammy’s lips.

Indeed, it was a beautiful start to the second leg of their journey.