Crimson and Fire.

That’s what had become of Sky’s home. The island he had lived on his whole life was no more. Once, it had been home to green fields and tranquil winds. Now, storms ravaged the island, rocks of ash crashed down and spewed molten lava, while red lightning bled through the sky. He watched all this from the ship that was supposed to carry him and his fellow villagers across the sea. They had lost their home, and their only hope was finding a new one. A paradise they had only ever heard about; Elysian. The name was like a whisper in the dark, a promise just out of reach. Sky had never seen it, but in his mind, it was a place bathed in light. His mother had spoken of golden streets and towers that touched the sky, a city where people lived without fear, where no one had to flee from storms or war. He wanted to believe in it. He needed to believe in it. The thought of Elysian was the only thing that kept him going through the long nights, through the hunger and the cold. Elysian, he hoped, was where they could finally be at peace. A place where his mother could smile again, where she didn’t have to carry the burden of all they had lost.

Even if it wasn’t real, even if it was just a myth, it was enough. It had to be. In his mind, Elysian was more than a city—it was a chance for his mother to find peace again, for her to teach in a place where children’s laughter filled the streets. For him, it was freedom. Freedom from the fear that followed him like a shadow, from the endless weight of survival.

In Elysian, they could be more than survivors.

They could live.

The storm raged through the night, rain and hail slamming against the ship’s timber. Every flash of lightning lit the darkness for a moment, only to plunge them back into chaos. He stood by the porthole, watching for any sign of land. He stayed there despite his mother’s words. His glance at the others was a plea for them to stay calm.

“I need to keep watch,” he said. They were two amongst a crowded ship full of people. He got down, huddling down next to her.

He glanced around, seeing that everyone was as terrified of the open sea. His mother kept a firm grip on his hand. He didn’t know how to swim. Should he ever fall overboard, he’d have almost no chance of surviving the cold, unforgiving waters. The air was thick with sweat and fear. Bodies pressed against one another in the dim space, the ship creaking under the weight of too many souls.

Sky shifted uncomfortably, wedged between his mother and the ship’s cold, damp walls. Bodies pressed in on all sides—men, women, children—each one with their own story of loss. He couldn’t help but hear the whispered conversations that floated through the darkness. They all knew the risks: starvation, drowning, pirates. Some wept silently, others whispered prayers to ancestors or to any god who might listen.

A man sitting nearby murmured softly to a woman beside him, his voice hoarse and heavy. "I should’ve stayed. I could’ve helped them. My brother… my sister…" His voice trailed off, swallowed by the constant groaning of the ship.

Another woman, rocking a small child in her lap, whispered a prayer to herself. "Please, don’t let him get sick. We’ve already lost so many. Please, let us reach land."

They had all left their worldly possessions behind and their friends, families, entire lives. Sky wasn’t the only one haunted by the faces of those he had lost. His thoughts drifted to his grandmother, her absence like an open wound. She who had been too old and frail to leave, spending her last moments by his grandfather’s grave. Sky could still picture her in his mind, waving as they pulled him away, the cries of goodbye lost in the chaos. He had left her behind, just like so many others had left behind pieces of themselves. The air was thick with unspoken grief, the quiet sobs of people mourning what they would never see again. The past hung heavy in the dark, like a weight on all of their shoulders. They weren’t just running towards Elysian; they were running away from everything they had lost.

With each wave, the ship groaned and shuddered, its fragile timbers straining against the ocean’s fury. The hull creaked, sharp cracks echoing through the night as if the ship itself were crying out in agony. Saltwater sprayed over the deck, soaking everything, while the violent sea slammed against the sides like a giant’s fist, threatening to tear the vessel in half. Every creak, every jolt told Sky that they were one wave away from being ripped apart and swallowed by the hungry blackness beneath.

Sky’s stomach growled, but hunger was nothing compared to the cold bite of fear that gripped him. He had seen men go mad on these boats, heard stories of those who threw themselves into the sea, others drank salt water until it poisoned them. But he held on. His mother, his people—they needed him to be strong.

The sea could swallow them whole. Every lightning strike made his heart pound with dread, but he clung to the belief that they would survive. Maia looked at him and held to him tightly. "Don’t worry, my son." Her voice trembled slightly, though she tried to hide it. "We’ll see home soon. The gods are with us. They have brought us this far, and they will lead us to safety. You must have faith, just as I do."

Her fingers brushed the small pendant she always wore, a symbol of her faith. Sky had never asked her about it, but he had seen her clutch it in moments of silence, her eyes closed in prayer. Even now, with the storm raging around them, she clenched it, as if it alone could keep them safe.

The frantic yells and commands of Captain Zain matched the roar of the seas. There were few crew and even fewer soldiers on board, a regular frigate ship hurriedly converted into a refugee vessel. Zain, an Elysian officer, had seen the island’s destruction from afar—the red skies spewing fire and ash, the land torn apart by chaos. He had witnessed the devastation, and without waiting for orders, had sent word to Elysian, calling for aid. He had vowed to save as many as he could, gathering refugees onto every available ship. General Aleyn, his old ally, had responded, promising to meet him at sea with reinforcements to guide them to safety.

The ship’s flight engines sat idle, rendered useless by the violent storms that churned the skies. Zain had stayed on the water, where the seas—though treacherous—were safer than the lightning-riddled clouds above. But they had been at sea for days now, drifting through the open ocean with no sign of the escort.

The storm was getting worse.

The food and water were nearly gone, and hope was wearing thin. Zain’s grip tightened as he stood on deck, scanning the horizon. They needed to find land soon—or Aleyn.

But they had been at sea for days now, drifting through the open ocean with no sign of the escort. The food and water were nearly gone, and hope was wearing thin. Zain’s grip tightened as he stood on deck, scanning the horizon. They needed to find land soon—or Aleyn.

Zain stood on the deck, the compass forgotten in his hand, its needle spinning wildly, mocking his every attempt at control. Another wave slammed into the ship, but it was the silence from the refugees below that weighed on him more than the sea. They were waiting—for him, for answers, for hope. He had none to give. His grip tightened on the railing as the ship groaned beneath him. ‘I’m failing them.’

“Captain.” One of the crew approached, his voice low. “Maybe we should turn back. We’re not going to find it.”

Zain’s jaw clenched. Turn back? To what? To the burning shores they had escaped, to the devastation they’d fled from? But the doubt curled in his chest, cold and relentless. What if this was all for nothing?

“We have to keep going,” he said, the words coming out sharper than he intended. He couldn’t afford to show hesitation. Not now. Not when the lives of so many depended on him.

The thought gnawed at him, creeping in every time the ship groaned under the pressure of the storm. They had been at sea for days, maybe weeks—time had lost all meaning. Every day, the supplies dwindled. Every day, the waves grew fiercer. And every day, his grip on the situation slipped a little more.

The crew looked to him for guidance, but what could he tell them? He had no answers. The compass was useless, the map a blur of lines and ink. Each decision felt risky, and he knew they were facing long odds.

Zain clenched his jaw, forcing his hands to steady. He couldn’t afford to show doubt. The refugees—his crew—they needed him to be certain, to be strong. But beneath the surface, doubt festered. Every decision felt like it could be his last. And if he led them into ruin, if the ship broke apart and the sea swallowed them whole… it would be his fault. They should have met up with General Aleyn’s escort ship days ago, but the storm had thrown them off course and now there was no sign of them.

He had promised to bring them to Elysian, but every day, the weight of that promise grew heavier. He knew what it meant to return there, to face the city he had left behind. Would they accept the refugees, or would they turn them away, just like so many others? He couldn’t know for sure. But he had to try. Then there was a pause in the waves. Maybe they had made it.

Sky thought of his mother and only wanted her to be happy. She was a teacher back in their native land. Her students would constantly cheer whenever she entered. She had dedicated her life to helping the unfortunate. Here she was, still staying as strong as a mother could. He wanted to be brave and strong like her. He clung to her. Maybe in their new home she could find some place to teach, like she did before. The thought of the future kept him going.

The oceans calmed.

Sky looked up, wondering why everything had changed. The ship still rocked, but the sea no longer felt malevolent. The surrounding people began cheering, relieved that the worst seemed to be over.

"Mom, stay close. I’ll check what’s happening." He shook his mother out of the trance of prayer she had entrenched herself in. She looked up, her eyes wide, as if the sudden quiet unnerved her as much as the storm had. Sky climbed up to the view port where he had been before and hoped to see land.

Zain paced the deck above them, his boots thudding rhythmically, but it was the eerie stillness of what lay ahead that held Sky’s attention. Through the gray fog, shapes shifted in and out of view, but every time he thought he could see land clearly, the mist would thicken, swallowing it again. His skin prickled with a sensation he couldn’t shake, like invisible eyes were watching their every move.

Even the waves seemed to quiet, as if the island demanded silence.

"Where are we?" a nearby refugee said, but no one answered.

The air was heavy, thick with moisture and something else—something Sky couldn’t name. The salty tang of the sea mixed with a faint, sour scent, like rotting plants. Every breath felt colder than the last. He leaned forward, squinting into the thick fog that clung to the horizon. For a moment, there was nothing but the endless gray of the mist, swirling and shifting like smoke. Then, he caught a glimpse—just a shadow, distant and vague. His heart skipped. Was it land? Or just another trick of the storm?

A low rumble echoed in the distance, a sound too deep to be thunder. Sky’s skin prickled. He looked towards his mother, but her gaze was fixed on the horizon. No one spoke. A shadow, distant and vague, hovered on the edge of sight. His heart skipped a beat.

"Is it land?" someone whispered behind him, but there was no relief in their voice.

The ship drifted closer. The shadow grew larger, its shape sharpening with each moment. Jagged cliffs rose out of the fog, black and broken, like the teeth of some forgotten beast. The waves, once violent and crashing, had fallen to a strange calm—but the silence was worse. No wind. No birds. Just the hollow sound of the ship’s creaking timbers and the faint echo of distant waves crashing against rock. His gaze dropped to the water, and his stomach turned. Beneath the surface, the skeletal remains of ships lay scattered like bones, their splintered masts rising from the water like the fingers of the dead.

"What is this place?" someone whispered behind him. No one answered.

Sky’s heart thudded in his chest. This island—it wasn’t Elysian. It wasn’t anything like the paradise they had dreamed of. It felt like a warning.

"Is this Elysian?" Sky asked.

"I don’t know." She shook her head. She let him observe the seas further and started asking around if anyone knew. There was chattering among the people. They had been on the sea for a long time and had been itching to get off to feel dry land.

Zain knew the supplies were short and the crew was restless. He figured he could land on the shores, scout for any more supplies, let the people off for a while, and then head back to look for the escort ship. His eyes scanned the shore, his jaw clenched. The island was barren, lifeless. There was no sign of a harbor, no sign of life. But time and supplies were running out. He had to decide. The winds had died down enough so that the waves gently washed them ashore. Sky couldn’t shake off the unbearable feeling, and he could tell his mother felt it, too.

They weren’t supposed to be here.