Without needing to leave our core on the ship, we can range as far as we like. It’s odd, having all of our body out in the ocean with us. Well, technically not all of it; we left much of our loose glass made of fulgurite back on the ship. But the bones of our body are here, which gives a comforting structure to our void that we didn’t previously have. We are more solid, our form more stable.

Though a bipedal form isn’t ideal for swimming. With some amount of encouragement, and some amount of reluctance, we allow the Chain spells which connect all our pieces of glass to one another to be rearranged into a more convenient form for swimming. Not the most convenient form; part of us is very adamant that we are not to deviate from only having four limbs. Even though eight or ten would be much more useful!

No.

What about just six?

Still no.

Compromise thoroughly shot down, we content ourself to explore these far more shallow waters. There’s a lot more life here. Smaller life, though. No giant sea creatures or anything filled with magic. The fish are hardly worth the effort to hunt down. It doesn’t feel very satisfying when it’s so easy.

After an hour or two, we grow bored. We suggest collecting some sand and heading back to the ship to Attune more glass or create more fulgurite, but this suggestion is also shot down: so boring! We’ve been doing that for weeks now. This is the first time we’ve been close to land since… Well, the predator has memories of time spent on land, but it was not exactly the same predator then. At one point, there was more of it, then there was less of it. The parts of it that were in the Between while the rest experienced the library heist is very curious to experience firsthand what it’s only absorbed through secondhand memories.

It’s strange that we can think of ourself this way. A collective will, yet different portions shaped by different experiences, summed together to be… something different from all our parts.

Is that strange? We’ve never thought about it before.

Yes, it’s very strange!

Oh. Well, we’re bored with this, too. We drift to the surface, where swells rock us up and down the waves. We can’t see the land from here, except by the absence of moonlight: a black gash on the horizon. We could go there.

Part of us hesitates. We shouldn’t get too far from the ship. What if we can’t find our way back?

We are sure that we can. Plus, our Elemental Radar can help us find it, if we need to. We’ll be able to detect our glass when it comes within range as well.

But what if…

We know why we really don’t want to go. We are afraid we will kill something. We will not. We just want to see land again.

That’s something all of us wants, and the momentary lockstep is enough to let us squash any further protests as we eagerly start toward the beach.

The surf becomes more rough the closer we get. The roar of waves crashing against the beach grows louder, and the tide pushes and pulls us almost more than we can control. It’s only when we’re close, and we send our void swirling into the surrounding waters to feel out our surroundings, that we realize this shoreline is made of boulders rather than sand. Doubt infects our excitement. This is getting dangerous. If the surf throws us on the rocks, we’ll have to rely entirely on our void to protect our glass form. And if our core takes a direct hit, there may be nothing left to protect. It’s not worth this level of risk. We’ll make landfall in the next week, anyway.

Reluctantly, we see the sense in this. We can always go find an easier beach to access. Disappointed, we turn away.

Something’s watching.

Instantly, we’re on high alert. We whirl our void and glass defensively around us, waiting for an attack.

But there’s nothing but the ocean. What was that? What did we feel?

It plucks at our mind again. This time, we can sense which way it came from: land. We keep still, focusing, trying to understand what it is we can sense.

There’s… something out there. We can feel it tugging at our soul. Wait… no, not our soul. It’s tugging at our… void? Yes. It’s the predator half that feels the pull. We feel drawn to it, but for good or ill we aren’t sure. This makes us nervous. Agitated.

We should investigate.

We are absolutely going to do the opposite of that. Especially since we don’t know what it is. Is it something that would help us? Hurt us?

We don’t know. But it attracts us all the same.

The waves roar as we’re carried onto a crest, crashing down just short of the rocks. Alarmed, we realize the surf has driven us closer to the boulders while we were distracted. We try to swim back, but the current is too strong. We’re carried up with another wave, and as we crash down, we can see stone beneath us.

We pull our glass in tight, forming a thick layer of void to cushion the blow. When we strike the rock, our shadows absorb most of it. The weight of the wave drums against us, the pressure on one of our limbs overcoming the void and cracking against the stone beneath. Then the water spills away, and we’re left splayed on the rock. Distant numbers crackle like static through our mind.

We scramble for purchase as the surf pulls away, our glass slipping over the wet stone without any purchase. Void claws form over our hands, digging into crevices of the stone to hold us in place. We focus most of the void toward our limbs so we can maintain our grip, but it won’t be enough to anchor us when the next wave hits. We’ll be shattered against the rock. As the surf returns, we jump for a nearby rock, and the wave crashes behind us. Another swell is about to hit this one—we jump away once more, scrambling for safety. The rock after that is taller; the waves break against its face, only sending a spray over its peak. We throw ourself at the side of the taller rock, catch it, and desperately pull ourself up. At the top we hunch, displeased, like some kind of stranded, bedraggled cat. If we had skin I’m sure we’d be shivering, and if we had vocal chords, we’d certainly hiss. Neither of us like this predicament at all.

As we survey the surrounding sea and weigh our options, our attention again wanders toward land. It’s much closer now. We could leapfrog our way across the remaining rocks until we reached shore. But that presence we’d noticed earlier is gone. We cast our mind out, searching for it, but find nothing. We’re not sure if this is comforting.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Wary, we agree to return to the ship. There will be other nights we can explore these waters. Other beaches that won’t be nearly so treacherous.

But will they harbor that strange, distant allure that’s now escaped us?

We suppose we’ll find out tomorrow.

Tensing the void around our glass, we lock up our limbs and work together to float us off the rock. It’s a little wobbly, but every time we do it, we’re getting better. In this instance we use it to throw us back into safer waters. In the future, though, maybe we’ll get good enough it will allow us to fly.

Now there’s a terrifying thought.

----------------------------------------

An hour or so before dawn I manage to sneak back on the ship without anyone seeing me all predator-y. I quickly fix my anatomy—the predator believes this is not a fix at all—then spend the rest of the night up on the main deck so as not to wake anyone. Someone folded my coat and left it by the stairs, so I shrug it on and wait for the sun to rise. Gradually shifting colors light the water and clouds alike, painting the world as if all of this were just some god’s canvas.

Captain Murrok is the first to rise. They give me a respective nod as they emerge from below deck, and I sign a greeting back. That makes them pause.

“You know Common Sign?” they ask, weaving casually over. Their hand movements are smoother in a subtle way I can’t quite pinpoint, each sign flowing seamlessly into the next. It mirrors the motion of the rest of their body, and it’s a little unnerving to watch their snake half sliding over the deck. At least they’ll never know I was staring.

“Yes,” I sign. “Noli taught me.”

They watch my hands with a faintly amused expression. “Still learning, I see.”

Sheesh, no need to rub it in. “It’s been four months.”

Murrok raises an eyebrow. “And now I’m impressed. Do you naturally pick up languages?”

“No.” Now that they mention it, I guess that is pretty fast to become conversational in a foreign language. “But I’m good at memorization. And I am—was—very in tune with my body.”

They regard me. “Not this one.” It’s not a question.

“No,” I agree. Clearly Noli has filled them in on at least some of my backstory.

“A face would help,” they note. “It can be hard to read some of your signs without accompanying expressions.”

Wouldn’t that be nice. “I’m not sure that’s an option for me.”

Murrok thoughtfully narrows their eyes, their gaze traveling up and down my body. “I could cast an illusion spell to give you a more organic form. It would be temporary. Though I would have to consider how to weave your internal feelings with your external expressions. Most spells are designed to replicate the expressions of the real face beneath the illusion, so significant alterations would be required.”

The offer is made so casually, yet I’m stunned. I’d never even considered illusions as a means to regaining my humanity. It wouldn’t be real. Just a mask. I’d still never be able to sleep or eat or speak with my own voice. But to see my face again…

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, faltering. “That is a kind offer. Thank you. I… I think I need a moment to process.”

They offer an understanding smile, and I’m abruptly met with an uncanny resemblance to Noli. Did she pick up that smile from Murrok, or them from her? “Of course. I did not mean to catch you off guard. And this is not something I would be able to prepare immediately. But it should be possible. Other illusionists might have a better idea.”

“Right,” I faintly reply. I feel dizzy. I’m not even sure what to think. It’s so sudden, I’m a mix of confused feelings. I want to feel human again, so badly it hurts. Yet it seems like every step I take just moves me further from that path. But would this help? Or would it only make me feel like I’m just pretending, more than I already do?

They give me a comforting pat on the shoulder, then retreat to the quarterdeck. I’m still sorting through my feelings as the others wake and join us above deck. Zyneth appears relieved to see I’m actually here, while Noli and Rezira pass around some fruit and sweet breads for breakfast.

“Troubled?” Zyneth asks as we sit around and chat.

“How do you even know that?” I ask.

He chuckles. “You were quiet, which is unusual.”

Well, he’s got me there.

I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about the illusion offer, however. That feels strangely private. A decision I need time to puzzle out on my own.

But it’s not the only thing on my mind. “What do you know about void creatures?” I ask, speaking and signing to address the whole group.

Everyone seems caught off guard.

“Void creatures?” Zyneth repeats. “Such as the predator?”

“Maybe Shade,” Noli signs. “Or Blot?”

I ignore her name suggestions. “Are there other monsters out there that might be like it?” I wonder. “I couldn’t find anything about it in the Athenaeum, but I might have been looking for the wrong thing.”

Zyneth peels something that looks like a red lemon while he thinks. “There are the animals near Emrox that have incorporated null arcana into their bodies and abilities.”

“Would anything like those creatures be on land?” I ask.

“I would guess not,” he says. “It would need a null arcana source to gain such abilities, and the only one I know of is in Emrox.” He looks questioning at Noli.

She holds up her hands. “I’ve not seen anything like Pitch in all the places I’ve traveled.”

“No, Honey.” Rezira pats her leg before looking back to me with a shrug. “I’d never seen anything like it before that fight at our house.”

Zyneth squints at me. “Where is this line of questioning coming from anyway?”

I hesitate. “Last night we… felt something.”

“How illuminating,” Rezira says after I don’t speak again for a few seconds.

“Sorry,” I sign. “I’m still trying to understand it. It’s hard to describe. It was the predator who noticed it, actually, which is why I thought it might have something to do with void or null arcana. Though I don’t even know what it is. A creature like the predator? A source of magic? It was more of a feeling than anything. A… pull.”

“Physically?” Noli asks.

I shake my head. “Maybe more like an attraction. The predator wanted to investigate, but I don’t think it even knew what it would do if it found it. Whatever ‘it’ is. And then the feeling just went away.”

Zyneth grimaces. “You mentioned before that the predator which travels with you now is only a fraction of its full strength. A portion of it vanished after the Emrox battle, and it’s never come back.”

I can see where he’s headed. “I don’t think this is the missing part of the predator. It was relying on my soul—or the soul of others—to keep from being pulled Between. After all this time, it certainly would have ended up there again.”

I Check my Void stat, just to be sure: 100%, as usual, and no creatures attempting to tear holes in reality to get out.

“According to Echo, what’s currently present is all of it,” I add. “The thing we felt last night was something else.”

“Odd,” Zyneth says.

“Concerning,” Rezira agrees.

Noli smiles reassuringly. “Perhaps it’s nothing, and it won’t come back? If it is a creature, it would need to move quite fast to keep pace with this ship.”

“I suppose,” I agree. But the predator can travel faster than this ship, easily. It helps that neither of us can get tired.

“Let us know if you sense it again,” Zyneth says. “Otherwise, I’m unsure what else can be done.”

“I will,” I promise.

And with that, conversation gradually turns to the mundane once more. We talk about the sunrise. Zyneth and Rezira get in a conversation about the red fruit. Noli teaches me some more obscure signs.

It feels good to not be on the run. It feels good to be surrounded by friends. As eager as I am to get to land, I think I’ll cherish these last few days at sea.

Even so, I keep a pulse on the predator, and it in turn keeps a pulse on our surroundings, watching and waiting for the return of that strange, distant spark of familiarity.