I hurry onto the main deck, where Zyneth is at the controls. “Land? Where? What do you see?”

The main window looking out into the sea has shifted over the last couple of weeks. What was once black nothingness, speckled with the occasional bubble or fish that flitted through the Prismatic’s headlights, has gradually evolved into a living ocean once more. The water has lightened into a deep blue, and all sorts of creatures dart out of the submarine’s path. No longer chased by giant sea beasts and creatures infused with null magic, the Prismatic now passes over a seafloor that’s covered in colorful plant and animal life, often bioluminescent, like the night sky has been spread beneath us.

“The Prismatic just detected it,” Zyneth says to me, hitting another switch on the panel. A blue pulse rushes away from the front of the ship, vanishing into the ocean. A moment later, lights appear etched over the glass: an outline of some sort of plateau in front of us.

“What is that?” I ask.

“The continental shelf,” Zyneth says. “It will push us up into shallow waters. Land won’t be far beyond that. If we surface now, we can probably see it with the naked eye.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” I ask. “Let us get out of here!”

Zyneth grins, pulling back on a lever, and I feel the floor tip beneath my feet as the Prismatic points for the surface. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

The water in the window brightens as we rise, until finally we breach the surface and water streams down the window in a shimmering scatter of light. The sky seems impossibly bright, the sun reflecting off the waves like a sparkling jewel. The sun! It feels so good to have the sun again. And with its help, we can see for miles and miles. There, smudging the horizon, is a thin band of green.

“We did it!” I squeeze Zyneth’s shoulder. “We made it back!”

“I can’t believe it,” Zyneth breathes, slumping back into his chair.

“Hey,” I object. “I told you I would get us back, did I not?”

“You did,” he says. “I’m not doubting your abilities, just… relieved.”

I am too, truth be told. It’s been two months since we first departed Miasmere. Over a month since the situation at Emrox. I’m so ready to be out of this damn submarine and back on solid ground.

But is the predator?

The thought sends a nervous flutter through me. I’ve spent more time working with it on this trip than all the time before. And it’s cooperating. But is that only because I let it hunt each night? Will it listen to me when we encounter our first group of people? Will I be able to stop it if it doesn’t?

Maybe we should stay out of cities, for now. Take our reintroduction to society gradually so we can build up boundaries and expectations. Perhaps I can let it hunt animals in a forest to satisfy its instincts. That should be a good alternative.

God, I hope it is.

“Hmm.” Zyneth leans forward, adjusting some of the controls.

“What is it?” I ask.

“There, on the horizon…” Zyneth gestures not toward the land, but off to the north. A tiny black speck interrupts the line where sky meets sea.

“What is that?” I ask. “A structure? A lighthouse?”

“I think it’s a ship,” Zyneth says. The window ripples, and abruptly everything outside appears closer. The black dot grows to the size of an ant, and while it’s still too far to make out details, the toothpick masts and sails are apparent enough.

“Looks like a ship to me. We should probably give them a wide berth,” I add, thinking of the predator.

“I am in agreement,” Zynth says. “Let me just search for some… ah.” The view out the window shifts, returning back to its normal display, but artificial lights highlight a few more dots scattered over the waters. Some of them were so small, I wouldn’t have noticed them without the display drawing attention to it. There’s three other ships within sight, though all still distant.

Zyneth rubs his chin thoughtfully. “We must be near a port.”

“Miasmere, do you think?”

“It’s possible,” he allows. “Though our aim would have to be miraculously accurate to end up right where we started. More likely we’ve drifted north to some other port city.”

“Probably for the best,” I say. I sort of left Yedzaquib’s library in shambles, and I doubt he’ll be excited to see my face again anytime soon.

Glass? Prism? I need to figure out a better head for this body.

“So what is the play?” I ask. “We do not want to show up in the middle of a city with a stolen submarine registered to a criminal. Can we figure out which way the port is, and avoid it?”

“Not sure,” Zyneth admits. “I think if we continue to head toward land, it will eventually become apparent where the city is. I’ll keep an eye on the other ships, too, and try to chart a path around them. Then we can beach the sub in shallow waters and wade to land from there.”

“Sounds pretty straight forward,” I say.

Zyneth smiles wryly. “Don’t go cursing us in the last leg, now.”

“At least we do not have to worry about sea monsters anymore.”

“I just said not to curse us!” Despite his objection, he’s smiling.

“Oh, come on,” I say. “I am allowed to be a little optimistic just this once, am I not? We have not encountered any large creatures in over a week, and no null arcana-infused animals in at least two. And if anything does show up, we know by now how to deal with them. We did it. We are here. We made it back.”

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Zyneth’s smile softens. “We did.”

We stare out the window for several minutes in silence, allowing the moment of relief to linger. Zyneth stirs first.

“I suppose that’s enough sightseeing. We should get back to work. I expect at this rate we’ll make land before nightfall.”

“So soon,” I say. It’s an abrupt shift from not knowing where we are or how far we are from land, to suddenly getting ready to disembark. “I will go gather our things.” After all these weeks, our belongings have gradually migrated from the bunks to wherever it was most convenient to leave them. Our extra parchment and charcoal is in the cargo bay, where we’d been experimenting with all sorts of sand, glass, fire, and lightning magic, while my chalk is in the control room, where I’d set up my spell circle for my core bond renewal. Then there’s my books, which I left in the bunk room, and Zyneth’s pair of spare clothes, which was being washed in the galley. We’ve really made the submarine our own. I’m sure Gillow would have hated it.

I’ve also left piles of sand everywhere. Not that that’s really a problem, since we’re ditching the ship anyway, but it does make searching for all our bits and bobs a little more difficult.

I gather all of the fulgurite I’ve Attuned that I haven’t already used to patch up my body into one large pile. Some pieces are smoothed into opaque rods and marbles, often tan or gray, while others are left in their spikey, organic form. Stacked together like this, it’s not a bad haul. A couple hundred pounds at least. It will serve me well as extra signing glass—or for general mayhem, I guess. The only drawback is that it’s way too many pieces for me to keep in my mind at once. The only reason I’m able to keep my body functional in the first place is because the void that’s stuck in all my joints helps to provide stability. I suppose I could add some of the void to this pile of glass, too. But to what end? I’d never paused to actually think about what I’d do with it all.

It’s too much to hide beneath my long coat, like I do with the Attuned void. Which means I’ll need to carry it around somehow—or leave it behind. But after all the work I went to in order to make it, that’s not an option I’m very keen on.

Experimentally, I draw an orb of void out from under my coat. The predator watches as I manipulate its element, but it doesn’t stop me. It does emit amusement at my clumsy control.

Oh, shut up, I think. You’ve only had an infinitely longer amount of time to practice with it.

I sink the void into the pile of glass. Then, similar to how the predator had frozen the void in the joints of my body, I also attempt to mentally solidify the void, trying to lock everything in place.

I can feel the void stiffen. It contracts, squeezing around the glass. But it doesn’t quite lock up. Still, I use the opportunity to try to levitate the clump of glass.

The pile lifts from the ground, the pieces of glass in the void tinkling against each other and sagging like quills of a porcupine. I strengthen my mental grip to keep from dropping anything. It’s working! I can take all this glass with me, and better yet, I can control every bit of Attuned glass I have at once. It’s a bit cumbersome, though, and it takes an incredible amount of concentration to keep from dropping it. What to do?

The predator moves forward, offering to help. If I gave it more control, even while our minds stayed separate, it could do more with the void than I can. Much more.

There’s something almost comforting about the predator’s transparency: it’s not offering to be nice, it’s offering because having more control more of the time is exactly what it wants.

“Maybe,” I tell it. “If I cannot figure it out on my own. But I have got one last thing I want to try.”

I activate Void Whip, and a tendril of void shoots out from my cloak, connecting to my target. Magic crackles down the whip and into the clump of fulgurite. Instantly, I feel the void become more solid, more real.

“Hah!” I cry, swinging the glass around like a mace on a chain. Keeping it all locked up in one form while being tethered to my void isn’t elegant, but it works. And I don’t need the predator’s help to do it.

The predator is a little disappointed by this. It doesn’t intentionally tell me this, but I can feel it anyway.

I set the glass back down and end the Void Whip.

[Spell Expired,] Echo reports. [Mana: 287/300]

Ah. I guess there is a small drawback to doing it on my own.

The predator is rather smug about this, and this time it does let me know.

But, I mentally emphasize, pointedly ignoring the gloat, now that I have a much larger mana pool to pull from, the cost of a Void Whip shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

Buoyed by my good mood, the rest of the Prismatic’s cleanup goes quickly. I pack all of Zyneth’s belongings in his bag—slightly soggy shirt included—and store my books and notes into my satchel as well. I pause as I clasp it shut, tracing the stylized ink bottle design burned into its surface. It seems a small miracle that the bag Noli made for me survived everything we’ve been through. I hope she’s doing alright.

And then it hits me for the first time: I’ll get to see her again. Maybe I hadn’t let myself think about it before now, because we were still lost, because we could have ended up anywhere. But now, land is in sight. Now, we’re going…

I guess home isn’t the right word. Where even is home for me? Maybe that’s something I still have to figure out. But in the meantime, I’ll get to see my friends. My soul warms at the thought.

“Everything is ready,” I cheerily announce as I stroll back into the control room. “Bags are packed. Glass is… voided. We are ready to be marooned!”

But Zyneth doesn’t reply. He’s focused on something out the main window. My high spirits begin to sink.

“What is it now?” I ask.

“It’s those ships from earlier,” Zyneth says, distracted. “They’re getting closer.”

“Is that a problem?” I ask. “We can just go around, right?”

“Hopefully.” Zyneth hesitates. “But I have a suspicion about this.”

“A good suspicion?”

He looks at me flatly.

“Well, it cannot hurt to hope. They are heading toward us, I expect?”

“It certainly looks that way,” Zyneth says.

“And it is unlikely to be a coincidence?”

“Based on their movement, no.”

“All of them?”

“Of course.”

“Of course.” I look out the window, wondering who they are. Thugs who work for Gillow, maybe? They probably want their submarine back. But could they afford to send so many ships after us?

Maybe money isn’t an issue when the motive is revenge.

“Will they converge on us before we make it to land?” I ask.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Zyneth spins a few dials and flips several complicated looking switches. But then he turns to me with a grimace. “Even so, we should be prepared for a conflict.”

The predator swirls around my mind like a shark eagerly circling a tank. It doesn’t understand Zyneth’s words, but it understands how I feel about them. It knows I’m mentally preparing for a fight.

But the thing is, weirdly, I’m not afraid—not for myself, at least. I cast a mental glance toward the predator, and I know that in the midst of a battle, I’ll be too distracted to keep it on a tight leash.

If anything, I’m afraid for anyone who makes the mistake of attacking us.