Chapter 1

(Note: this is still a work in progress and subject to change)

Bells rang out as ships of the fleet disappeared, scattering into the misting rain. Soldiers donned helmets and grabbed shields. A frenzy, as rocks coated in chemical fire fell all around from enemy ships still hidden in the mist. The rain clung to Tacita’s dress and made the push rims of her wheelchair slick. She would have been nice and dry inside the ship if she hadn’t been pacing over how to apologize to Neus. Her fault, she thought glancing up at the Sapphire, the eternal hurricane, that loomed like an apocalypse overhead. 

A shout. Glaukos maybe? Before Tacita could identify the source, her vision filled with an oncoming ship as it burst out of the fog. This was a battle. She was in a battle! She was an assistant, Lorcan’s ward. What could a ward do during a battle? 

As if in answer, the oncoming ship smashed into their hull. The deck lurched, and Tacita was thrown from her chair. She landed hard on the deck, the crunch of crumpling timber hitting her ears just as hard. Splinters rained down on her, sticking to her wet skin. Pain wracked through her like an electric shock. 

Nothing, she could do nothing. There wasn’t even supposed to be a battle. All she could do was get out of the way. Her chair!

She glimpsed it through the rain as it careened full speed towards the railing and hurtled off the side of the listing ship.  Her books… The pang in her chest hurt worse than her fall as she watched the pack on her chair disappear with the rest of it.

Cries and metal ringing on metal brought her back to the present. She shook her head, trying to clear both pains. Now was not the time to lament books.  The black and gold of imperials mixed with the blue gray of the enemy rebels, blood mixed with water flowing across the deck. They were being boarded and she didn’t even know why. Immediately, she thought of the Mindstone she’d dug up. It had been her only lead in finding the nearby island and the power that might be on it. She rubbed out the throbbing in her shoulder, sharper than the constant dull throb in her legs, but feeble by comparison. The Mindstone was in Lorcan’s desk. That’s where she had to be.

Without her chair she’d need her staff…which went over with the chair. At her best, she could walk a short way without aid but this was not her best, certainly not on a soaked, leaning ship. She crawled. The water, long soaked into her dress, now soaked through the wraps around her legs. The weight of it all dragged as she pulled herself forward. It was like dragging her own, drenched corpse if not for all the throbbing, pulsing in her legs, the dizziness, the panic. Her hand touched metal as she went – a shortsword. She grabbed it, hoping the wetness was more rain than blood.

She pulled herself to the doors and slipped inside, slamming them shut and pressing her back against them. Taking deep breaths, she worked to let the burn fade from her legs, and enough blood return to her head to think again. If the rebels were here to stop them from getting to the island, how were Lorcan and she supposed to get whatever power was hidden there without the gods knowing? In all likelihood, Lorcan’s more loyal, godspawned kin were already heading there to scour it clean. This was their best, only lead. She had to find the Mindstone, get it to Lorcan, and tell him. They were nearly out of time.

The cacophony outside told her that in more ways than one. She peeked outside. Black and gold was falling back; her people were dying. Neus. She’d last seen him in here. When she told him things she shouldn’t, even when he asked her not to. He was always so careful. He didn’t have a Saint to protect him. Only her. 

She ignored how the impact had destroyed Lorcan’s once cozy study – books thrown from their shelves, paper scattered over his beautiful, toppled desk. In the midst of it was a boy curled up like a frightened rabbit. 

“Neus!” Tacita called out with as much relief as surprise. He was actually her age, but was short and skinny enough to pass for a boy, especially since his pale face had yet to manage more than a whisper of a beard. He uncurled from his position as she crawled over to him, all pain forgotten. She hugged him closely, though let go suddenly.

“Sorry, I know you’re still mad.” She had innumerable other things to do, but she had to apologize. She might not get another chance.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the noise from outside drew their attention. 

“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll get us out of here.” 

“How?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. He was a schola, no more meant for a battle than she. This had all gone so wrong.

She glanced around the room, mind racing.  “Neus, what are the odds two fleets take a route through the Sapphire and collide like this?”

“Um… small?”

“Unless we’re all here for the same reason.” The rebels must have known about the island, but if they had all the information they wouldn’t have risked a fight. They were afraid of what the empire knew or wanted it themselves. She couldn’t let them have the Mindstone, but if Lorcan didn’t return in time, if everyone on the ship died, keeping it away from them didn’t matter. Lorcan wouldn’t like it, she felt that in the pit of her stomach. She fought that feeling away. She had a plan, one that was the exact opposite of her previous plan. Encouraging. 

“Um, why do you got a sword?” 

“Curse-addled brain,” Tacita mumbled. How panicked must she have been to think it any use to her. She huffed a laugh, then took it and pierced through the lower half of her dress, cutting slits down either side and right through the symbol of the sun god Kenari. Fitting, in a way. Then she tossed the sword aside. “That, I guess.”

She tied the halves of the dress together, untangling her leaden legs, and moved to the desk. She forced open drawers, pulling them from the desk. The Mindstone and an Everlight. If he’d only told her where he’d put it, other than “somewhere safe”. Though, she had blabbed things to Neus. Maybe he was right. 

“Ain’t Lorcan gonna get real mad at that?” Neus asked.

“We’ve been hit. Likely, the enemy’s ram is the only thing keeping us from sinking right now.” Where in Night was he, anyway?

Something thunked against the deck, and Tacita went for it. In her hand was a black, sleek slate of rock smaller than the palm she held it in - A Mindstone, a mental repository made by the ancestors. A message through time. This one held thoughts of an island and a desperate need to keep it safe. If it was valuable to the ancestors, it could topple empires in modern times. She hesitated. No, her plan would work. She dug into a pile of books and papers until she found an opaque, white, egg-shaped relic. An Everlight. That would get everyone’s attention. Lorcan wouldn’t have a problem if her plan worked.

“Stay here.” She told Neus. She grabbed a toppled coat rack to use as a walking stick. Not the most dignified, but more so than the hilarious tragedy of trying to walk unaided.

Tacita opened the door just enough to squeeze out, returning to the rain and clamor of battle. Soldiers clashed, struggling to stay on their feet with the wet, slanting deck. Facing that chaos, her plan suddenly seemed really stupid. She wasn’t a soldier, she’d never been in a battle. Being a leader was about knowing where to put what resources, about knowing everyone’s place. Her place wasn’t here. Wasn’t this.

Before she could flee back inside, a rebel soldier rushed her, curved shortsword held high. She threw the coat rack between them. They slammed against the door. Without the coat rack’s support, her legs burned against the strain and gave out. The soldier threw the rack aside and raised his sword again. She feebly kicked at him.

“Wait! I have what you want!” She shouted, thursting the Everlight toward him. She just needed a second’s distraction.

She got it.

Tacita closed her eyes, and thought of the ever-present sun. Even in her panic, her practice prevailed. The orb lit up so bright her vision was red behind closed eyelids. 

The soldier shouted. Tacita pushed herself away onto the open deck. She rolled with the listing ship. The angle sent her into an uncontrolled tumble until she crashed into the railing. 

“Good one, Tass.” She coughed. Pulling herself up with the railing, she sent the Everlight to hover over her. Only some noticed the light. Just enough attention to get her killed, not enough to save her.

As if on cue, soldiers closed on her. She reached her thoughts to the Everlight again. In theory, she could make an Everlight explode brilliantly. Mostly harmless, but it might be enough. She’d need to overload it, to tell it contradictory things until it gave out. 

An imperial. Vivian, she remembered, clashed against the soldiers. It was the moment Tacita needed, but Vivian was outnumbered. 

Tacita pushed down the dread of seeing someone she knew get cut down. Instead, she thought of home, of the Terminus. What she longed for and what she left to help Lorcan save. That narrow border between ever-present Day and never-ending Night. Light and dark, simultaneously. 

The orb burst into ribbons of light that showered across both ships. For a moment, everything stopped. It was the only moment she’d have. She imagined herself as Lorcan, how he would see this. How he would act. She couldn’t be Tacita right now, she had to be a hero.

“I am Tacita, ward of Saint Lorcan, and I have what you are looking for!” She held up the Mindstone, then held it over the ship’s edge. “Make one move and lose it forever!”

Silence. The invaders held the central deck and parted to reveal one of their own with a half cape over one shoulder. 

“Not a step closer.” Tacita commanded, but her voice wavered. Vengeful sun, if she lived through this she was never leaving home again.

“What are your terms?” The soldier, a commander of some kind, responded in a calm feminine tone. She was older woman, clad in that gray and blue of rebels, traitors, and secessionists. Though those words meant very little to Tacita, given her and Lorcan’s conspiring, it did mean this person hated her with a fury rivaling the storm overhead. 

“I know what you’re looking for.” Tacita strained for a calm tone as her arm strained to keep her upright. “You’re looking for the island, for what’s on it. This has all that. It could decide the war. Return to your ship. Leave us, and it’s yours.” 

“Your ship is badly damaged.” The commander said, nodding to the side.

Right, of course. Why did she think she could do this? Her choice was between surrender and the mercy of the enemy, or forcing the enemy away and hoping for rescue. She scanned the faces of  the crew but found no answers, only fear. She was deciding all their lives.

“I…” Tacita hesitated. The commander took a couple far too casual steps forward. Depending on rescue was too much of a gamble, but being taken prisoner could mean facing the rebel witch or some other magic of hers.  Was it more noble to fight to the last? Did that matter?

The commander was upon her. “Stop! Or I drop it!”

She held out her hand with a smile formed of either condescension or deception. Tacita hated it either way. “You drop it, and you die.”

“I’m willing to take that risk, are you willing to lose it?” 

“So we wait until the battle is decided? I don’t think so.” 

Someone shouted as the doors from Lorcan’s quarters burst open. Neus was thrown to the deck by two attackers. The commander glanced behind for a moment as Tacita’s heart sank.

“Tacita will tell you! I’m important!” Neus pleaded.

“Oh really? Now we have some leverage too.”

Her arm cried out, nearly seizing trying to keep her up, to keep up the facade. “Vivian, do we have enough rafts for everyone?”

“It’ll be a tight fit syr, but we’ll manage.” Vivian responded guardedly.

“Syr?” the enemy commander inquired.

“I’m a ward of the imperial palace.” Tacita took a breath when she saw recognition. One more thing to bargain. “Let everyone go, send your soldiers back to your ship and I’ll give you this…and me.”

“Ward? You’re a political hostage.” She scoffed. 

“That means I’m valuable.” Tacita said through gritted teeth, trying to hide her pain as anger. 

The commander shifted on her feet, her eyes assessing. 

Tacita didn’t have time for this. “Or you lose this relic and we find out how badly we make you bleed before you take this ship.”

A breathless moment. Enough for Tacita to question where this bravado came from. Maybe the pain was making her delusional.

Finally, the commander whistled once with a whirling motion of her hand. The rebels backed up towards their breach point, filing back to their ship a few at a time, almost as quick as they’d arrived. The commander approached Tacita with an outstretched hand. “Come now, little imperial.”

Tacita collapsed onto the deck as she gave up the Mindstone. She’d done it. Didn’t matter what the enemy thought of her now. It was still embarrassing.  “I…can’t walk without aid.”

The commander stopped, expression disbelieving. Then she angrily grabbed Tacita by the arm, half aiding, half dragging her as they headed off the ship

Tacita held on tightly against the pain as she risked being dragged like a sack. This was going to be her life. Dragged from place to place by people who hated her very existence. The idea of ending up in a place like the Censure Hall back home made her nearly vomit. Her breath quickened as they crossed over the rickety, makeshift bridge onto the enemy ship. She couldn’t do this. Why did she think she was brave enough to do this?

Just as they arrived, an arch of white light descended down upon the upper deck. Tacita didn’t have a second to even hope before black powder ignited and the upper deck disappeared in a blast of fire and black smoke. Tacita and her captor were knocked off their feet. 

Tacita tried to curl up against the blast, but her arm was still in the commander’s vice grip. She was beyond thought, clawing and kicking against her captor. She thrashed, feeling the heat of the fire like it was upon her. 

Cries and cheers filled the air simultaneously.

“Soldiers of the Empire!” Shouted a voice, heavenly and deep. Cheers rose louder. Tacita stopped. It was him. Lorcan had finally returned. It was like breathing fresh air for the first time.

Suddenly, the commander grabbed Tacita and slammed her against the deck. “You deceitful little demon!” 

Tears welled in Tacita’s eyes, against the pain or fear she wasn’t sure. She could barely see the knife the commander drew even as she thrashed to avoid it. No, she was so close. He was so close.

Then the pressure was gone. Replaced by a golden light and soothing heat. She wiped tears away as he stood over her. His eyes shone and his fair hair blew in the wind of the storm. The heat coming off him caused his dark shirt and golden-half cape to ripple as he faced the enemies that remained. The commander lay nearby, cradling a smoldering wound in her side. 

“Lorcan,” Tacita gasped out. Screams rang out and the smell of burnt flesh was overwhelming. Still, all tension left Tacita, all but the desire to be held by Lorcan. It was over. She was safe.

“Starlight, what are you doing?” His voice was a balm, even as it was twinged with confusion. 

“I--,” How could she explain everything she’d done? 

“One moment,” he stepped away and slammed his fist into the deck. A painful wave of heat flowed over her. The wood cracked and rippled. Then parts of the deck splintered as explosions ripped through it from below. She flinched as chunks of the ship's upper deck landed around her. 

Even through the ringing in her ears, she could hear the cheering of soldiers and the chanting of Lorcan’s name. There he was in the thick of it. Anxiety welled in her, as irrational as it was, that he might be killed. She flinched before he caught an enemy sword thrust. Then landed a heavy hit into their chest, sending the man off the side of the ship igniting into a ball of flame. He dropped the sword, glowing and misshapen where he’d held it. He turned to face the others. They lunged with spears he never bothered dodging. Tacita held her breath as they shattered against him, melting and burning all at once. He grabbed one assailant, headbutting him. The soldier stumbled back, leather burning where Lorcan touched him. A pair of arrows splintered against his back. He kicked the other assailant as his attention shifted to the source of the arrows. On top of the enemy upper deck, half engulfed in flame, were the last of the enemy archers. Lorcan raised his hand and the fire whipped up into a whirlwind of flame, consuming the tower. He shifted, and the fire followed like a stream toward the last holdout. They dove off the ship to escape the flames. She chastised herself; he was never even in danger.

His light faded down to a smolder as imperials flowed around and worked to secure what was left of the ship. He held up his fist in victory and a roar of cheers filled the air. 

It took Tacita a moment to notice when he held his hand out to her. She hadn’t moved from her spot since he arrived. When she didn’t take his hand, he instead kneeled. He smiled as warm as his touch as his hand cupped her cheek. She leaned into it as every ache rushed back to her.

“Starlight, what happened?” His confusion returned but so did his smile.

Tacita wiped unwanted tears as she spoke, hoping she could make it make sense. So he’d understand. “I… was trying to buy time for you. They were taking the ship…”

“You are as wild as a flare, Starlight.” Lorcan said with a laugh as he pulled her in close. She melted into his warmth. “You need to learn to assist from the back.”

“You don’t.” She knew it was a petulant argument. 

He pulled away gently to give an expression that said he was unconvinced. 

“I know, I know.” She pulled him back in. “I would do better with a combat lesson.”

Lorcan sighed at the old argument, but when he spoke it was about something else entirely. “You have no place in battle. Shouldn’t ever have been near one. And I wasn’t here when it began.”

“You’re here now.” She pulled away this time, cupping his face with her hands. She had to cut this off now or he’d let it eat him up. “And together we can fix this.”

“Now it’s your turn to listen, demon!” The commander of the burning ship called out. She held one hand to her smoldering wound, but it was the other that fixed Tacita’s attention. She held the Mindstone over the edge of the ship. Tacita’s own trick, turned against her.

“Saint, actually. A godspawn is about as close to opposite a demon as you could get.” Lorcan said with forced casualness. He whispered to Tacita. “How did she get that?”

“I...used it as leverage to keep her from killing the crew.” Tacita winced as she felt heat radiate off him. 

“Get off my ship, or I drop it.” 

“I can—” Tacita tried to say. 

“I will have that stone.” Lorcan demanded as he stood. “Your only choice is whether you get to live.”

The situation was spiraling. Maybe he could get it from her before the commander could act. Lorcan took a step closer. 

“You think you control fate itself.” The commander said with a weak, fading smile. Her grip loosened and the Mindstone fell. 

In a burst of movement, Lorcan was there. Tacita’s breath caught as he turned, hand empty. He grabbed the commander and held her high with one hand, the woman’s soaked clothes steaming.

“It will always slip your fingers, tyrant.” She said so quietly Tacita barely heard her. “Tell that to your gods.” 

Lorcan threw her overboard like she was a stone on the shore, his rage radiating off him. “Now what?” 

Tacita spoke in the smoothest voice she could. There were still other soldiers around. “We’ve both seen it. It didn’t tell us everything anyway. We know the island, that ‘sanctuary’, is close.”

Lorcan lowered his voice as he returned to her, his presence like being too close to a fire. “They must know about it too and if they do then Erus and my father might as well.”

“They don’t know as much as we do. We could still do it.” She scoffed at herself, she couldn’t even stand. “Well, you could.”

He seemed to think it over before his eyes were drawn upward. Tacita turned. 

Flashes of lightning filled the sky, bringing haunting definition to the dark clouds. In their wake, thunder roared, resonating in her chest. It didn’t come from the storm.

Stormwings, flocks of creatures with long necks and expansive leathery wings  that spanned longer than her ship flew overhead. Lightning cascaded from wingtip to wingtip and, at points, bolting down towards the water. She counted the groups, five or six in each, over a dozen flocks, she’d never seen so many. It wasn’t natural. The lightning - bolt after bolt bored through the clouds onto ships, shattering wood and melting flesh. The battle was escalating. 

“That’s not…” 

“It’s her. Gods,” Lorcan cursed. “She’s here.”

The Witchqueen, the leader of the rebel forces, commanding deep, profane magic in all its hideous glory. If she was here, every power in the war must have been aiming for that ancient sanctuary and whatever was inside it. 

Tacita’s eyes met Lorcan’s. He knew too. His eyes were wide in a way Tacita had never seen, though it passed quickly. “I have to go, Starlight. If I don’t confront her—” 

“I know, appearances. Can you beat her?” She asked, chills running through her, begging for a specific answer.

“I need to stop her. From hurting the fleet, from being able to get to the sanctuary.”

“Can she hurt you?” She didn’t want to know. She couldn’t stop from asking.

“Nothing but the gods can hurt me.” Lorcan smiled, but there was something darker hidden beneath it. “I need you to make sure everyone gets on this ship. Can you make sure that happens?”

“You… want me to command them? I’ve barely talked to most of them.” Her heart beat in her chest like a drum with something Tacita wasn’t quite sure was fear.

“That was for safety of our mission, but they know who you are. When standing above them, never let them see you falter. Pretend you’re invincible and they will think it themselves.” He kissed her then, before backing away as heat radiated out from him. He took a deep breath.

“Wait, I don’t even have my—”

The air rippled around him and his body glowed before he flew like a shooting star towards the lightning-filled sky. 

She sighed. He did tend to do that. The battle was getting worse, but there was a lull around them. She could work with that. 

“We’re dead.” A nearby soldier muttered to a couple comrades as they stood watching the spectacle. 

Tacita took a breath. Embody Lorcan: no fear, no weakness. She grabbed a fallen spear that hadn’t been reduced to kindling by Lorcan, and slowly rose to her feet. The ache blossomed into pins and needles all down her legs. She buckled, but held. The revenge her body would have for this would rival that of the gods. She approached the group. 

“He’s a hero, a Saint of the Sun, child of Kenari. It’s his destiny to bring light to the darkness.” She paraphrased the very scripture she and Lorcan worked to oppose. “You are soldiers of the Terminus Empire, have faith.”

As if the gods were challenging the lie in her words, the clouds alit with radiance like the sun was descending upon them. Then sunlight pierced the clouds themselves in great lances, scorching the air such that the ensuing wind buffeted the ship. The Stormwings scattered, the lightning subsided. The soldiers all around her cheered as a great serpent of light twisted in and out of the clouds. Tacita’s heart felt as if seized in a vice grip. 

“Kenari! Kenari!” They shouted. The god of the sun had arrived. And she tried to hide the dread that filled her as much as relief did the others - he was supposed to be leagues away. It meant he knew too. The hunt for that sanctuary was a race nobody knew everyone else was in.

Lightning flashed again as the Stormwings changed formation toward the new threat. They formed concentric circles around the center of the light, bringing the core of their lightning onto Kenari. Were they trying to fight a god? Even the ancestors weren’t capable of such a thing. 

Tacita tried to pull her attention away from the divine spectacle above them. There was still a battle out there, not that it mattered compared to the forces beyond comprehension that waged their own battle above them. 

“We need to make ready the rafts.” She turned to the soldiers nearby. “And make sure Neus is okay.”

She desperately wanted to find out herself, but she would just get in the way at this point. Command from the back. It felt wrong, but Lorcan was right, she didn’t have another option. She leaned against the railing as she watched everyone vacate the enemy ship. She tried to look for Neus, but focused instead on the loose planks that served as a bridge between this and her ship. How she was going to get across that without support was another problem.

The lances of light strafed across the water, igniting ships and sending up walls of steam. The ship rocked, and Tacita fell flat to the deck.

“Incoming!” somebody shouted. Tacita rolled over to see one of the lances as it engulfed an enemy ship and continued towards them in a surge of steam and light.  

She braced herself, looking for…for what? The light was already blinding. The heat scoured her skin like sunburn and she thanked the ancestors for being soaked to the bone as her clothes started to steam.  She crawled in a blind frenzy away from the pillar of light as it approached. The heat left her gasping. 

For a sudden moment in that white light, she was weightless. Suspended in a sightless heat. Then she smacked against the deck. What air she had in her lungs was gone. She gasped at that and the euphoric feeling of cold water at it washed over her. Then she was tumbling. She didn’t land right.

Tacita opened her eyes, grasping for anything as she rolled down the deck, now angled toward the sea. The light had already moved on but the back of the ship was gone. Shattered. Already water had flooded the lower decks as it tipped skyward. Below was the sucking vortex created by the sinking ship.

Tacita grabbed a loose rope, the grip burning through her gloves as she held on with all her strength. It took a moment to realize she’d caught herself. Now all she had to do was get off the ship. Preferably without drowning. Swimming was easier than walking under normal circumstances. The eternal hurricane above her was a constant reminder how beyond normal she was.

The deck rose ever higher. Soon she’d be dangling from the rope.

She looked for her ship, but if this one was tilting, hers now had a large hole below the waterline. Getting back to her ship would just delay the problem. Both were doomed. She hoped Neus made it to a raft. He had to. He’d honed his survival instincts before his first words. Tacita looked for one of the rafts. Nothing. There was nothing at all in the fog created by the pillar of light, just a uniform refracted brightness all around her.

She steadied her breathing. The panic, somehow, still bubbled just under the surface. She looked up the rope she held on to. It was wrapped around a part of the mast, tangled from a broken sail. 

She had an idea, a bad idea. But Lorcan wasn’t going to save her. Tacita crawled, then climbed as the deck rose ever steeper, pulling herself up while her legs started to dangle. In that moment, she was almost thankful for half a lifetime of wheelchairs and the strength it gave her. Reaching the mast, she leaned against it. The ship shuttered with a startling crack, the mast straining against its foundation.

Tacita followed the rope until it led back to the top of the mast and a dangling line. She untangled it where she was, trying to get as much length as she could. This was certainly the worst idea she’d ever had, but there was no safe harbor, no savior. She had to get away from the ship before it sucked her down with it.

She exhaled as she wrapped the rope around her hands, pulling it taught. She thought about the heroes: Valeria, Aella, Sitre and those who took up their great names in ages past. She just needed to be like them for a few moments.

The ship lurched again, bringing the mast to a 45 degree angle. She had to wait a little longer. Best case, she would jump and the momentum would carry her far enough away from the ship. Her legs were lead shoots of pain. Not good for jumping. She wouldn’t even be standing if not for the ship to lean against. She had to wait for the right moment when, jump or fall, the rope would do enough. She exhaled her fear, her doubt.

And jumped.

She’d imagined herself jumping like a hero into the fray but, as expected, it was more an enthusiastic stumble. But the rope did its work. She spun, losing sight of anything as her grip weakened. 

“Please please please please please,” she begged. But her grip gave out and, not realizing she’d closed her eyes, she flew blindly like a rag doll until she hit the water, skipping like a stone. 

She tried to force her body to move as the cold ocean stunned her. It was sluggish to obey. Then the pain, but it was sluggish too. She needed to find the ship, to swim away from it, but it was a guess and her limbs already hurt, her legs like dead weights. Swimming was easier than walking, but easier was doing a lot of work in a storm like this. There was nothing but mist and rain, all lit by distant lightning, light, and fire.

She would have to swim an impossible distance. Swim forever. That bubbling fear spilled over into hyperventilating. One area of the fog glowed brighter than the others, a beacon of red and yellow. The center of battle, maybe. If she went for it, she could be captured or killed or ignored and run over. 

This wasn’t helping. She needed a better vantage point, so she waited for a crest in a wave to carry her up like a hilltop. But other than the distant beacons of light and faint orange glow of burning ships, it was like the darkness of the far side of the world had traveled here. There was nothing in the fog. She strained her sight in every direction, looking for, begging for, praying to her ancestors for wisdom.

It was not the ancestors, but the world itself that responded.

From below her, a hollow blue glow pooled around her completely independent of the water. She tried to look, but there was nothing more than the realization of the endless depths of water below. An odd sense of calm fell over her, like the panic had reached such a crescendo that it was beyond her ability to feel. She knew she was afraid, that she was paralyzed with it, but it was like it was happening to someone else. She didn’t fight it. She didn’t want to feel the panic of something dragging her down into the depths. Or of drowning in dark waters so far from home. 

The light expanded until it was a gentle blue glow bigger than the ship she had been on. Twice as big, likely much more, but it was impossible to tell. Slowly, the light moved away in a steady direction, lighting up the surface of the water from below. 

And with that illumination came a piece of salvation. Driftwood, large enough to hang on to. Not far off. She forgot the fear she could no longer feel, and swam for it. The source of the light did not seem affected or disturbed by her movement, inconsequential against the forces of the storm. The driftwood closed faster than expected, and she reached it quickly, having been aided by the wake of whatever was underneath her. 

In the center of that light, something breached the surface. It was like a small island, much larger in surface area than any ship she’d been on, and hinting at being larger still under the water. Upon a gently curved surface were glowing, bioluminescent plants of a dozen different colors that looked akin to fungi. Upon reaching the surface they let out bursts of faintly glowing clouds of spores, which took to the wind and the storm and flew off in a calm, pulsating dance. A deep, melodious sound resonated in and around Tacita.

A leviathan. It floated there for moments entirely separate from reality, like the world had paused while in the presence of this creature. It made sense why some considered them divine. She wasn’t sure she didn’t. Its presence made no disturbance on the world and was equally unaffected by the battle, the storm, or anything of great importance in her world. It simply was.

Then, with no preamble, it dipped below the water again. Long, flat tendrils tens of times longer than an Imperial warship breached the water as it descended. The light faded as it returned to the depths, leaving Tacita alone, hanging on the driftwood it had revealed to her. 

“Thank you,” she said. She had no proof it had helped her, she did not know the beliefs of those who called these creatures divine, but she was grateful and that was reason enough.

Towards the center of the storm, its wall of dark clouds swirled with a steady looming presence. The Sapphire Pillar of Creation, where all life supposedly came from, from where all waters flowed. It was a child’s tale, but she could believe it. Like the leviathan, the storm could either save her or destroy her without ever knowing her existence. Being around something like that felt somehow familiar, yet isolating. So she prayed to her ancestors. She prayed hoping for wisdom, for guidance. They were the only ones whose wisdom could be equal to such a vast thing. They who, for all their knowledge, had to learn the wisdom from their own destruction that the world itself was greater than even them. Hopefully greater than the gods she secretly defied.

Maybe it was the world itself that could save her.