The last piece of advice from Spirit was still echoing in the young deckhand’s mind as she blindly rowed through the mist.

She could only hear the beats of Skepta's oar on the other side of the boat, indicating the presence of at least one of her companions. Cornell, at the rear, was trying in vain to see if he could pierce through the thick mist with his single eye. They had been moving in silence for almost an hour, following the compass held by Tolas at the front of the boat, the fog as their only companion.

Unable to endure the stillness of their situation any longer, Skepta finally let go of his oar and spoke with a trembling voice:

"Mr. Tolas... we've been rowing for a while now. Don't you think we should have reached the shore by now?"

The only response from the bosun was to remain silent, with tense features, eyes keen for any sign of clarity. Still uneasy, Skepta tried to engage Cornell:

"Am I the only one feeling it? Something’s…something’s wrong! We were just an hour away from that island! And we've been sailing in this foggy mess for hours!”

Cornell rolled up his eye but his mouth remained shut. Skepta, desperate for any reaction, turned to Raphaëlle.

“What about you, little wolf? You’ve got to feel it too, right? This isn't normal! There must be something hiding behind all this fog! We’d need a miracle if we’d want to make it out of this in one piece!"

Cornell let out a long-exasperated sigh and turned slowly, looking tiredly in the direction of the other sailor.

"I know yar’ used to noise in the engine room, but I’m gonna need ya ta shut yar gob now!" he viciously spat out.

Completely deafened by his own fear, Skepta continued his tirade:

"This gotta be a Cormoran’s trick! My gods, that’d make so much sense! They'd appear and disappear in the mist! Spiriting away any idiots foolish enough to try to get their hands on them... Why did I lose this bet…"

A heavy hand landed on the fearful sailor's shoulder, and he let out a small shriek of absolute terror. Tolas tightened his grip on Skepta's shoulder, and finally, the sailor fell silent. The bosun stood in front of him, his barely contained anger showing all over his face.

"One more word, sailor, and I can assure you this mis-"

"Uh, Tolas?" interrupted Raphaëlle.

The young man stifled a rageful roar of indignation. She couldn’t do that again, she had to stop trying to cut into his authority. But before he had time to complain about the interruption, their boat abruptly stopped, caught by a coral reef barely visible beneath the water's surface.

"Land…ahoy…" Raphaëlle said before losing her voice.

The fog, gradually dissipating around their stranded boat finally revealed the full majesty of Nespérides’ island. A long stretch of white sandy beach lay before them, stopping at the entrance of a massive, lush jungle with green and yellow plants half-burnt by the scorching sun yet teeming with life thanks to the ambient humidity.

A gigantic mountain stood in the middle of the island, the summit so high Raphaëlle could barely guess it from her vantage point. She felt so small that the air seemed to escape her for a second and she had to catch her breath, completely starry-eyed.

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It was as if she had suddenly returned to her childhood, listening to the tales of old sailors passing through the Espadon, the tavern owned by her grandmother Liane. She drank in the words of the old sea wolves with as much eagerness as the patrons finishing their beers.

The crew disembarked without a word, all still a little shaken by the wild beauty of the island, and pulled their boat to the center of the beach. They were unsure of the tide levels and preferred to avoid seeing their boat drift away without them in a few hours.

Once their task was completed, Skepta fell to his knees and kissed the sand passionately, happier than ever to have touched solid ground. Cornell, who was staring at him with a disgusted look, turned around to grab his bag from the boat. Tolas did the same, opening his canvas bag and retrieving the rather rudimentary map provided by his brother.

He began to analyze it, occasionally lifting his head to get his bearings before plunging back into it. A few minutes later, he let out a small grunt of annoyance when he finally understood their position, snapping his small compass shut with a loud click.

"Shit...we’re way off course. This is the other side of the island..." Tolas murmured first before taking a deep breath. "Sailors!"

Cornell and Skepta hurriedly ran to their boatswain’s side and, standing at attention, waited for his instructions. Still looking at his map, Tolas explained their situation.

"Alright, so bad news first, we’re not where we’re supposed to be. At all. Vyx’s Bay is opposite to the beach where we are. It's actually kind of a miracle we managed to land on this beach; the captain warned me about the coral reefs on this side of the island. They’ve torn their fair share of ship’s hulls. We'll have to cross the jungle if we want to reach Ermythie before nightfall. We only have one flashlight, I have no idea what could be in this jungle and, frankly, I don’t want to find out."

Skepta vigorously nodded in agreement, his face frozen in an expression that screamed, "Of course!" while Cornell smacked his own forehead, afflicted by his colleague's attitude. Tolas finally looked up to continue speaking.

"Retrieve your belongings; there's no... but... oh, come on..."

Exhaling all his exasperation at once, Tolas turned around to look at Raphaëlle’s back. She was still absorbed by the appearance of the tropical jungle.

Focusing her attention, she could discern the shape of small animals leaping from branch to branch, their silhouettes masked by the darkness of their habitat. Looking towards the center of the vegetation, it seemed like the entire scenery was moving at once—the palm leaves, the rain trees, the huge ferns protruding from the ground. All the plants appeared to move to the rhythm of the waves crashing heavily on the beach far behind her.

She could almost feel it within her. The rhythm of the ocean, like a massive heart that made hers vibrate as if she were resonating with it.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the salty air mixed-in with the earthy scent of the lush jungle. It was as if a voice was calling her from afar. As if the ocean were shouting her name. She let herself be carried away, thinking that the voice was very familiar.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. All her senses went into overdrive. She pirouetted to the side while putting her hand on the hilt of her dagger, ready to strike. She could see Tolas' hand miss her shoulder in slow motion, and the boatswain, carried by his momentum, barely managed to catch himself instead of faceplanting in the sand. Shocked by the deckhand’s speed, he turned to look at her and was surprised to see she seemed just as speechless as he was. But she quickly got her usual wry smile back.

"Something’s wrong?" she asked as if nothing had happened.

"Huh? Uh... no," Tolas began, still a little dumbfounded. "It's just that we should leave right away if we want to try to reach Ermythie..."

"Before nightfall, right?" Raphaëlle finished for him.

Tolas gave a small smile and nodded without saying a word. Skepta and Cornell had approached them, pulling the boat away from the beach and next to the jungle’s limits, allowing Raphaëlle to retrieve her belongings before turning the boat over and covering it with leaves to camouflage it.

Making sure everyone was ready for their journey, Tolas took out the long saber he wore at his belt and took the lead of the expedition. Raphaëlle, who was bringing up the rear, looked up at the sky one last time. The sun had already well surpassed its zenith. Frowning a bit, the young sailor eventually followed the rest of her team, senses on high alert.