Without as much as a momentary hamper in his movements, Theos got back on his feet, glaring at Mother, "Maristela," snarled the man amid the coughing. "You of all people should know not even a rapier of divine-making can fatally wound me." He glanced at the volume of liquid coating the ground, then raised a hand before all the fluids rose into the air from between the piles of dirt and grass blades. Even the very droplets oozing from the fresh stabwound joined their ilk, floating like any other orb.

My eyes flickered for a moment upon hearing the word divine pop up. What was it supposed to mean? Was the rapier's divine nature why Mother had bested all fighters she came across in the past? I couldn't be sure; it left me wondering. Though my thoughts swiftly swayed towards the spectators, mainly, the guardsmen, who were ignorant to the existence of Magick and gazed on in disbelief, collectively gasping for air whilst sharing the belief their eyes were lying to them.

Father watched on, muttering softly, "The Lost Arts.." as Theos drew the levitating orbs of blood towards him while he reached out for both wounds. He suddenly lit both his index fingers ablaze, cauterising both entry and exit wound. Though, effectively putting an end to the abrupt loss of blood, the sudden, sharp smell of burning flesh was nauseating.

Theos clenched his fist; all the orbs emitted a flickering crimson glow before vanishing without a trace. I gazed in disbelief as the slash across his face and the blood specks in his robes diminished in size. Only to fade out entirely, all the bruises and cuts were no more. Like a shooting star, they were there for a moment, gone the next.

"Now," spoke Theos, sweeping his gaze over the men surrounding him, then back to Mother, "Step aside now, and I will consider this unfortunate turn of events as no more than a case of miscommunication. If you don't, I swear you will not see another Bluemoon Festival in the decades to come."

I dared not believe what I heard. Apparently, neither could my parents, as anger, rage and fury rose to the surface in their eyes.

Mother stepped closer to Theos, eyes flickering with the same putrid hatred as mere moments prior, "You can't threaten a whole island, Theos." She growled, clutching the rapier whilst balling her off-hand, then continued, "My people need the Festival, especially now after the raid."

I had never truly witnessed the extravagant Bluemoon Festivals. Well, actually, I had a faint, vague memory of attending one as a toddler. I could still remember the mesmerising cerulean glow of the great bonfire drifting off into the sea. But that was as far as the memory would care to show me.

Theos spoke up, arms crossed, "Then I recommend you put the interest of your people first, Maristela."

Though, Theos' words seemed of no interest to Mother. "No, I won't let you take my daughter away!" She was still under the impression she was fighting for the right cause: to keep our family from being torn apart and separated.

That was it - The final mental push that made me snap. I breathed out loudly, finding the inner strength to confront Mother about the whole flashy show she had just created. "Mother," I sneered quietly, eyes fixated on hers. She taught me everything, how to be a better person, basic fencing and morals, everything breezed by. Mother had distorted into a person I could not recognise, yet she carried her face. "You've always taught me terrible behaviour is understandable - but not excusable. And here you are, barraging the man who saved Adelaide's life and contradicting the very belief you attempted to raise me by. I wished to join their journey, not by force, but on my own account. And I had hoped you would be proud of me, supportive of my desire to see the world you've sheltered me off from. But no, you have lost your way, Mother."

My words left her standing there, shaking in real devastation. Same was true for Father, both exchanged dumbfounded gazes, solemnly startled. But regardless of the effect of my brutally honest onslaught, I was not done yet. After all the lessons Vhersio taught me, they should have known that I needed not to rely on external sources; I was strong and resourceful enough to fend for myself. "I don't know how you are aware of the fact we're bound to sail out soon, but I don't appreciate it. Keep your scouts and spies at the city. I can do things on my own perfectly fine."

"I didn't,-" Mother paused, eyes lighting up as though a realisation of sorts dawned upon her, "It wasn't my doing, it was-"

Theos cut her off, "Ah, Adelaide, I see you have packed your belongings." And only after he had spoken, I realised Adelaide and Vhersio had arrived at the scene, though, both riding the same horse as opposed to earlier.

"What's going on here?" Vhersio asked, directly cutting to the chase without spending a moment to greet any of his acquaintances. Before anyone could answer, he had dismounted the horse and held Adelaide's hand as she followed suit.

"Nothing, Captain," answered Theos, glancing over at Father and Mother for a brief moment, "They were about to let us pass. Isn't that right, Cynthia?"

Everyone's gaze averted towards me, from Father and his men to Adelaide and Vhersio - potentially to get a read on my thoughts. I was still angered by the idea Mother sent some creep after me to spy. Even if I couldn't prove it. Realising I had dropped an uncomfortably-long silence, I swiftly shook my head, "Yes, indeed. Father, Mother, please, we have got matters to tend to afore our departure."

My parents looked on in defeat - spirits crushed beyond repair - Mother attempting to speak amid her sudden stuttering, albeit to no avail. Father turned his head towards his men, who were still shocked to the bone at the display of what they believed to be no more than a myth; a tale of an era long passed.

Meanwhile, Theos laid a hand on my shoulder. "Let us go, child. I wish to depart as soon as you gathered your belongings. Understood?"

I nodded swiftly, glancing at Father and Mother before shining a sad smile. While I was sad everything had to go down like this, I, too, was full of excitement. A whole new world was awaiting me. I let the thought drift off, then mounted Rosemary once more before silently striding off to the Wharf.

Conflicted, I gazed up at the cloud-laced sky. The sun had risen to the top of the world, far beyond any man, woman or child's grasp. I closed my eyes, as Rosemary continued to traverse the dirt path as I wished to be closer to the sun; closer to vast emptiness and serene calm of the heavens. Everything felt like a mess. How in the world did my parents know we'd be sailing out today? I wondered if they truly trusted me, or if they were convinced I could not depend on the skills Grandfather taught me back before his passing.

I shook my head, ridding myself of these haunting thoughts. Theos wanted me to get my belongings as soon as possible, explicitly mentioning the sachet—that wretched thing. My thoughts drifted off to the memory of desperately trying to open the small bag- to no avail. While it was soft to the touch, it was resistant to everything, including a razor-sharp blade.

As I began wondering about its content, Rosemary continued striding down the dirt paths until we had reached Silvermoon Wharf's outer walls. The black-iron gate had been pulled up entirely, only the faint traces of the bar's bottom spikes remained visible.

One of the guardsmen, cladded in traditional light armour with blue and silver insignias, greeted, "Good day, Lady Cynthia." His words passed through my mind, partially unregistered, unnoticed, really. Before I had processed what he had said, I was long gone from his close vicinity.

Within a few more minutes of passing by the local shops, small streams running through the capital, and the reconstruction sites and the Traders' Outpost at the centre of the docks, I entered the keep's grounds. The drawbridge felt more- stable. It didn't squeak as much as it used to, nor were the chains floating as much in the wind. Father and the councilmen must have decided to put some work into it.

My eyes drifted off to the vines climbing down the walls facing the fortress, near the trees outside the stables. With the clouds passing over, faintly covering the sun, it resembled one of Mother's paintings she had made many years ago. I could recall she was hurt back then and chose to indefinitely stop teaching sword-fighting, promoting Vhersio in the process to take her place as the leading instructor.

The thoughts dissipated in mere moments as I neared the stables and dismounted from Rosemary's back. I briskly laid my hand on her manes, sifting my fingers through the dense, ink-black hairs. My hand trailed down, reaching for one of the pockets in my leather jacket. Though, it was empty, whereas typically, I always carried a treat of sorts for Rosy. "I'll bring you an apple on my way back, Rosy," so I mumbled, knowing she would not be able to understand, but the idea was comforting.

Stepping towards the keep's front door, Mother approached from the back. "Cynthia." She called out to me.

I glanced over my shoulder for visual confirmation, and she was there; trembling in place, masking a barely noticeable stutter in her tired voice.

I did not reply.

"Cynthia, please... You'll hear me out, won't you?" Inquired Mother as I turned my head away, proceeding to walk towards the door. "I thought I was in the right; I wanted to protect you, Cynthia." Sadness and remorse for her actions clung to the edges of her words, drenching from the cores. But I was determined to get the sachet and leave immediately afterwards- until Mother found the words to stop me dead in my tracks.

"Astrid Elrich told me Theos desired to forcefully remove Adelaide and you from this island from- your home."

I was baffled, physically stunned even. Grandmother Astrid- how? She had bled out to death in my very arms. While I knew Theos had mentioned she could still be alive, I had hoped it was the aftershock of her death still trembling through the area. But this confirmed it. She was alive- somehow. Then again, when we left, her body had vanished completely, even the blood trails in front of the Estranged Gate. I ushered but a word, confusion binding my mouth shut immediately after, "When?"

"Moments before we rode out to save you," answered Mother, trails of tears scattered across her cheeks whilst droplets held on to her jaw, waging a losing war against fate itself.

I did not understand Grandmother Astrid, not yesterday, not today, and I'd most definitely not understand her reasoning for evidently faking her death. I shook my head, visibly disturbed, if she had wanted me gone, she could have said so and given me the direction to go by myself. But she did not - oddly enough, it was as though she wanted me to find the Estranged Gate.

With all the thoughts racing through my mind at breakneck speed, the lingering quiet grew denser. "Where did she go?"

"Frankly, I wish I knew. The guardsmen posted at the docks told me she boarded a Caravel sailing under a Wessfirian flag, whispered something to the man, and they sailed out-, and only the Phoenix knows where." She paused for a brief moment," However- when she told us you'd be ripped out of our lives, she gave me this."

I faced her, eyes glued onto the palms of her hands. She held onto a fragment of a gem of sorts. It was as white as snow, though, as soon as Mother tightened her grasp, the colour seemed to sway towards a cyan blue. I had never seen a gemstone with such odd characteristics, or at least, so I could not remember if I had. Then question dawned on me. Why? Why did Grandmother Astrid leave this for me specifically? I was staring at the object, watching the hot midday sun visible radiating off the smoothened surfaces, only breaking at the edges and the cracks within.

"I know not what it is, but by chance, it could be worth something; you might be able to use its value while you journey with Theos and Adelaide."

It took a moment before her words' meaning settled in. She gave me her blessing, had she not? I tilted my head, "Mother? I'm not particularly sure I understand you anymore. First, you attack Theos, then attempt to stab him to death with a rapier. And now, here you are, willfully permitting me to leave the island with the man you tried to murder in cold blood?"

The light at the back of Mother's eyes flickered for the shortest span of time, the gem in her hand turning into a blend of orange, yellow of a soft red. She furrowed her brows with a sigh, "Truth be told, my heart tells me to keep you safe at all times, Cynthia. But today, after your father, Theos and Adelaide calmed me down when you left, they opened my eyes. Adelaide convinced me my desire to keep you out of harm's way should be second to whatever you wish to do with your life. After all, you are my daughter, not some porcelain doll." She slipped the stone back into her coat, "And I'm sorry, sweetie. And to prove it, I won't interfere if you choose to leave."

I shut my eyes, "Please be at the docks when we sail out soon."

Mother quickly nodded in response, "Of course, of course," stammered she, her hands visibly trembling.

"Meet you there. I have to get a few more of my belongings first." I had already turned back towards the castle's entrance, unintentionally not granting Mother any time to answer.

"Shall I help you bring these items on board, sweetie?" Asked Mother, as she stepped closer, laying her hand on my shoulder with a comforting grip.

I turned her down, "No, thank you, Mother, I need not much; just a few cloaks, shawls etcetera."

"Very well, Cynthia, I will be down at the docks with your Father," and with that, she left the demesne. The once-looming quiet had returned to prominence, only to be cast aside by dangling chains swaying in the wind- the noises from the stables and the burning torches suspended from the walls near the door.

I swiftly made my way through the corridors and hallways and ran up the stairs to my tower bedroom. I opened the room's door- the extraordinarily high roof, the carpets, the long desk, my cosy bed. This place was luxurious, to say the least, and I knew for a fact, I'd be missing out on some proper nights of sleeping. A part of me was anxious Theos would have me and Adelaide sleep in hammocks.

Shaking my head, I realigned my thoughts to my objective; gathering items. Grabbing a bag first, I approached my wardrobe and stashed a variety of clothing for diverse weather situations, then swiftly skimmed through my desk, selecting several mementoes, including Grandfather's hunting knife, and adding them to the bag's content. I swept my gaze throughout the room, only to stop and hover over my desk, in the left corner, near a crevice in the wood, the sachet Theos mentioned laid.

Within a mere moment, I snatched it off the mahogany desk, only to notice it had loosened up. The seemingly-unbreakable black leather strap that once safeguarded the grey sachet's contents had turned... soft. It became easier to mould. I untied the sash, and for the first time ever, I was able to see what was inside the small bag. I tossed a glance inside, only to look away immediately- now was not the time. Perhaps once we set sail for World's End, but not during the preparations.

Having added the sachet to my items, I looked around my bedroom for one final time, before deciding I had gathered every necessary belonging I'd need. Briskly, I turned around; faced the door, and exited the room, racing down the stairs, only to come to a halt in front of the kitchen. I had sneaked by earlier, not noticing a particular individual's presence within the room.

I smiled gently- quietly, I could not bring myself to say a word as I watched Peter scurry around, darting from counter to counter, cutting food, washing greens and boiling water. He deserved to know. After all, he had always been there whenever I needed him most.

"Peter," I called out softly, hoping, amid the stress, he heard my voice.

Peter frantically looked around, searching for his kitchen knife, "Huh-? Oh, hello, Cynthia!" He answered, proceeding to cut a handful of ingredients for- what I, with my lacking kitchen skills, determined to be a vegetable soup. "What brings you to the kitchen so early? Hungry already?"

"No, I-" He cut me off.

"Ah, that's a shame," His words fell back into the pits of silence. Peter rushed towards the other side of the kitchen, retrieving a vial of salt; flicking it open and adding some with a single, fluent motion of the wrist. "I've been working on a special dish for Lady Maristela, to aid her recovery. Very nutritious, though, the flavour is not quite right yet."

Calmly, I spoke "Peter," my words doused in an odd sense of caution, knowing what I was about to say would probably not fare well with his mental state, not after his parents' tragic accident. But I simply could not disappear on him, not after all he's been through; not after he started taking care of all his siblings, and still manages to find the time to work his heart out for Father here in the kitchen. "I came to say goodbye. I'm leaving Silvermoon Wharf- Crescent Isle even."

His eyes were like a vast canvas; parts dazed as if obscured by the clouds. Shock and terror were lingering around inside of them, along with a swirl of trauma. The memory of receiving the news his parents had perished during their return to the island must have resurfaced. Peter had let go of everything he held onto, only to roll his hands into fists, clenching them firmly.

I could see the rampant throbbing of the blood veins, from those in Peter's neck down to his wrists. They had always tended to be easy to be perceived, but it was child's play to spot them right now.

He bit down on his lips, then started, "Cynthia, I know you've always been one to crave adventure, be you aware or not. And while it is not my place to stop you, nor will anyone be able to refrain you from making such a great decision," Peter paused, digging deep in his mind, trying to find the right words. He loosened his fists, "As much as I want you to stay here on the island, mostly because I'm not ready to lose more people I love, I, too, know that I'll be happy for you if you decide this is the path you - at heart - know you must follow."

I found myself at the mercy of my tears. Tiny droplets had found their ways to the surface, emerging from the corners of my eyes. "Peter, I-"

"You need not worry about me. I will take care of Beth, Charlie, Richard and Julie, just like I've done all those years. I don't want us to ultimately be the reason you stay at Crescent Isle, Cynthia." He approached, arms spread wide, then embraced me, whispering into my ears, "Understood?"

I nodded, eyes closed, tears still looming.

"Then, if this feels like the right decision to you, go," said Peter, releasing his hold. "However, promise me one thing."

I tilted my head, "Anything."