This time, Luna felt it calling to her from a place where no one ever ventured.

She didn’t get this feeling often. And if she wasn’t paying attention, she could too easily brush it off as a mere change in her thoughts—much like how the everyday individual often had idle musings briefly ambling through their mind before fading back into obscurity. Fortunately, she was getting used to recognizing the difference between a passing thought and the tug of her missing pieces.

Standing alone on the pier, Luna stared out over the sea of sky. She watched as the winds rippled like waves of water, wafting against the cliffside before receding back out into the open.

Here on the floating island, the weather was calm. The sun shone high above the sky’s limit. The clouds were few, far between, and the kind of innocent white that a child would draw. One such cloud drifted at her feet, rolling playfully over the dock. Luna smiled and reached down to give it an affectionate pat before it moved on.

This isle was located at the edge of civilization—the Farthest Edge. Somewhere beyond where the sea of sky met its limit, there was a storm. The clouds there weren’t so friendly. They were temperamental and roved about their territory like the enormous white tigers far in the east. They roused the winds into agitation when outsiders neared, discouraging any and all passage lest an unfortunate vessel be ripped apart by the current and sent plunging into the shrouded abyss of the sea.

“Not even the bravest adventurers have the gall to make a trip that far west—it’s all uncharted waters, so to speak,” the dockmaster had gruffed to her earlier that day. “I implore ye now, lass. The Isles Beyond don’t exist. Best ye dock yer need for a thrill and go somewhere else.”

Luna had thanked the dockmaster for his concern, but she insisted on a boat anyway. She had been forced to buy it, since the dockmaster didn’t believe she’d return. She didn’t have a choice. The treacherous area where even the bravest dared not venture… That was where she was being called.

The shards of her soul were as whimsical as always.

=-=-=

The last civilized isle before the unknown seas wouldn’t be complete without a tavern for rabblerousers. Not many folks came this far west, and the ones who did tended to be a little rougher around the edges. Boisterous sky sailors who could just have easily been pirates. Army deserters from the south, who were tired of constant civil war and decided it would be better to stir up conflict elsewhere. Bounty hunters looking for a kill marked by a hefty sum.

But when asked how far west they ventured, they simply laughed and said there was nothing worth their time where the sky met its limit. In other words, they wanted to live on the edge, but not go any further than that.

Sarech scoffed at these nonsensical braggarts and took two tankards of grog back to the table. He dropped with a heavy plop! into the seat next to Sage. Then he set one tankard in front of the ebon-hued elf, knowing full-well she wouldn’t touch it, before taking a large swig from the other.

“At least the mead here is good,” he remarked.

“That is not mead,” Sage retorted tersely, her mother accent thick and deliberate.

“How would you know? You barely touch any spirits.”

As a shaman Sage would beg to differ, but she decided to stay on topic. “Mead is brewed from honey and spices and is not commonly found in this part of the world.”

She gestured towards the tankard with a nod so casual it may have just been a shrug. “What you are drinking right now is known as grog.”

“I really don’t care.”

Sarech paid her no more mind as he glugged down his mead—or rather, grog. If only Luna hadn’t saved him. Better yet, if only his last bounty hadn’t cursed him into a week-long slumber in the first place. Damn angels.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Well, he was starting to get used to being dragged on cockamamie misadventures. But he didn’t have to like it.

They had been waiting for Luna to return all morning. Listening to the tavern ruffians recount their hyperbolic feats wasn’t enough to mollify Sarech’s foul mood, so the grog had to do. He wasn’t about to let the nitpicky elven prude ruin what little he could enjoy about being here at the Farthest Edge.

Sage was unimpressed with his attitude and let her eyes drift towards the entrance. Suddenly, the elf scrambled to a stand, practically tumbling out of her chair in the process. Her fiery-haired tablemate instinctively grabbed the hilt of the sword at his waist, ready to draw as he shot his attention over his shoulder.

And then he loosened up and slouched back in his seat when he saw who it was. “Took you long enough.”

Luna pressed herself against the wall as she slipped past a couple of burly, rowdy sailors, not wanting to disturb whatever drinking game they were involved in (it looked like pirate’s dice). When she was almost through, Sage took her by the hand and pulled her along the last few feet into the sanctuary of their own table’s space. The two exchanged smiles before Luna’s faded into a more solemn face.

“I’ve secured passage to the Isles Beyond.”

“Passage,” Sage echoed with an affirming nod. “Then you have chartered a ship for us?”

Luna shook her head. “I’ll be going alone.”

“Alone?!” blurted the elf.

“Can’t say we’ll miss you…” grunted the bounty hunter.

“No captain is willing to sail that far west. Believe me. I wandered the pier all morning looking for one who was.” Luna shrugged slightly, brushing it off in resignation. “And so, I bought a boat from the dockmaster to sail alone.”

“Bet you didn’t try hard enough.” Sarech peeked into this tankard to scrounge for any leftover grog before fully tilting it into his mouth.

Sage scowled. “I unfortunately might agree. Go back to the pier, and take Sarech with you this time.”

The fiery-haired hunter sputtered and cough out his drink, floundering into an upright seat. “What—Why me?!”

“Because you are the best of us when it comes to being a nuisance.” The elf shot him another glare. “Surely you can put that skill to use and convince a crew to look after her.”

How insulting! The nuisance here was, in fact, the ash-blonde who dragged them here before turning around and now saying she didn’t need their company.

Sarech turned away and made a face to himself, mocking Sage before snatching up his second tankard and taking another deep swig. His master would never allow him to break his debt, unfortunately. Whatever whims Luna had, he was along for the ride. Maybe it was a blessing that she announced her intent to go alone.

Luna shook her head. “No one should have to risk themselves for this.”

“What about us?”

“Not even you, Sage.”

Sage averted her eyes in hesitant thought and brought a hand to her collar. Her dark, slender fingers fidgeted along her necklace of woven vines. “Perhaps the boat you have purchased is large enough that I can stow away…”

Luna cracked a grin. “I’d be truly shocked if you managed to hide on a winged dinghy.”

“Why do you even need to go alone?” Sarech kicked his feet up onto the table and kept his attention his tankard. He gave its contents a bit of a swirl. “And don’t give us the don’t risk yourselves for me bit.”

Luna grimaced. She was hoping to avoid that question—or at least come up with a good reason for it by the time she returned to her two companions. Fabricating lies weren’t her forte. She was sure any explanation she could come up with would be met with quick dismissal anyway.

But the truth was something she had to keep close to her chest.

She glanced at Sage with eyes as blue as the moon. The discomfort in her gaze was all too clear.

Sage stared at her for a long moment. The nodded slowly. “I do not like it. But I understand you have your reasons.”

“I’m sorry…” A wave of guilt washed over Luna, and she cast her gaze downwards instead.

An uncomfortable silence strolled in between the three companions. Neither the unruly guffaws of the tavern patrons nor the overturned tables of their petty scuffles could penetrate it. They were, each of them, alone.

Sarech kicked off the table and stood up. “I’m getting another mead—”

“—Grog,” Sage piped automatically.

“Whatever. And maybe checking to see if the tavern keep knows any bounties that need hunting.”

He walked off, unselfconsciously striding over a drunken patron who had fallen to the floor. When he was gone, Sage moved timidly towards her remaining companion, whose eyes were still downcast. Only when she felt a touch on her arm did she lift her moon-colored eyes once more.

“You will come back to us, yes?” Sage’s steady gaze was betrayed by the uneasiness hiding behind it.

Luna stared back at her. Then, suddenly feeling an embarrassed bout, she averted her eyes again. This time, a small smile touched her lips, and a bit of rosiness bloomed in her cheeks. Companions like Sage, ones who wished for her return, were a rare thing.

“Yes…”

“Then keep your eyes skyward, moon. We will be waiting.” Sage smiled. Then scowled again. “But only a week, at most.”