"Kane, Kane! Wake up!" A sharp voice sliced through the haze of my exhausted mind, a rough hand shaking my shoulder, then slapping at my face.

My eyes fluttered open, squinting against the dying light of the day. The sky stretched endlessly above, an unbroken expanse of pale blue mocking the ache in my head. I must've slept longer than I realized-an eternity, it felt like.

"If I'd known you were going to nap like that, I would've joined you," Thaddeus muttered, his voice tinged with the exhaustion of the past hours, his lips twisting into an exaggerated pout. He tossed the empty net into the boat with a splash, its contents sparse at best. "Two hours of nothing."

"Two hours?" I groaned, stretching my back, the satisfying crack of bones snapping into place. "Feels like I've been asleep for a hundred years."

Thaddeus gave me a skeptical look before stepping over to where I lay, slumped awkwardly with my head tilted against the edge of the boat. He sat down across from me, scrutinizing my face with his usual quiet intensity. "You're not acting right. You never nap. What's going on with you?"

I blinked at him, my body sluggish with the remnants of sleep. He was drenched, soaked to the bone from the salty sea, his clothes clinging to his wiry frame in that unmistakable way of every Samarian fisherman on a hot Sunday. His damp locks, streaked with salt, caught the fading light, making him look like a ghost from the ocean's depths.

The season of famine had stretched its cruel fingers into our lives again. The reef was a barren wasteland, offering nothing but frustration and empty nets. Soon, the villages would start sending their fishermen farther out, to islands like Lume-places still blessed with the promise of a better catch and a better future.

"I'm fine," I muttered, the words heavy in my mouth. "It was just a nap. But you..." I narrowed my eyes at him, taking in the hollow of his cheeks and the way his collarbone jutted out with unnatural sharpness. "You suddenly look like you haven't eaten in days. How come I never noticed that before?"

Thaddeus let out a soft snort as he moved to untangle the net. "Pot meet kettle. You're not exactly the picture of health yourself, Kane. We're both malnourished. The island has a way of doing that to us."

I snorted, but my attention drifted to the endless sea ahead, a stark contrast to the quiet longing in my chest. "So, this is how we go home empty-handed again?" I said, my voice suddenly serious. The vast ocean stretched before me, indifferent to our plight. "I don't think I can keep living like this."

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Thaddeus exhaled, his shoulders slumping in that way he always did when he was burdened by more than he let on. "We don't have much of a choice. The famine's getting worse. It used to last two months a century ago, but now it's dragging on for seven. And still, the fish are scarce." His voice dropped to a softer note. "Maybe... maybe we should join the men this year, make the journey to Lume. We're old enough now to cross the reef. Perhaps we could find better prospects there. If it works out, we could even leave this island behind-together."

I frowned, my mind racing. "What about your father?" I asked, the thought of his unyielding attachment to this island heavy in the air between us. "Would he approve of you leaving?"

Thaddeus met my gaze, his expression calm but tinged with sadness. "I've already spoken to him. He doesn't mind, but he refuses to leave. He says he wants to die here, surrounded by the land that's been his home. He says he wants to be buried alongside my mother, here in Samaria, where his roots run deep."

I let out a long sigh, the weight of his words sinking deeper than I anticipated. "My mother would probably feel the same way. She wouldn't want to leave either. Samarians... we're attached to this place like it's the very air we breathe. It's hard to imagine anyone willing to leave unless they're gone for a short time."

"So... would you leave your mother behind and go to Lume?" Thaddeus's question was quiet, probing, but I could hear the weight of it.

The truth was heavy on my tongue, and I hesitated, the words coming slower than I expected. "There's something I need to tell you, Thaddeus," I began, my voice low but unwavering. "I don't want to go to Lume."

"Wait, what?" Thaddeus blinked, confusion etching his features as he leaned forward. "You don't want to stay here, but you don't want to go to Lume either? What are you saying?"

I hesitated, gathering my thoughts as a sudden fire sparked in me. "Lume... Lume is just another island. It's more modern than Samaria, sure, but that's not enough. It's just another small speck in the ocean. The world is so much bigger than that. I've spent my entire life here, and I've seen everything there is to see... But there's more out there, Thaddeus. There's a whole world beyond these shores. I want to go farther. I want to see Historia."

Thaddeus blinked, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Historia? You're talking about Historia? Do you know how far that is? How dangerous it is to even think about crossing that distance?"

"I know," I said excitedly, "But that's the point, isn't it? To see what's beyond this island. To live somewhere new, somewhere bigger. We've been stuck here, in these same waters, our entire lives. Don't you wonder what else is out there? What we're missing?"

Thaddeus sat back, his eyes wide, his mouth agape. He seemed as if he might speak but couldn't find the words. "You're crazy. Historia is so far, and you're asking me to go with you? What if we never make it back?"

"I don't care," I replied firmly, my gaze unwavering. "I don't want to grow old here, Thaddeus, wondering what could have been. If I die out there, at least I'll know I tried."

He let out a low breath, his face softening with a mix of concern and admiration. "You really think you can make it to Historia? You're willing to risk everything for a dream?"

I glanced at the vast horizon, where the sun dipped low, casting a golden glow over the endless expanse of water. "Sometimes, you have to take risks. Otherwise, we'll grow old one day, only to realize how small and insignificant our world really is. How much we've missed by staying in the safety of what we know."

He met my gaze, his brows furrowed. "I just hope this risk doesn't end up killing you."

I smiled faintly, the sound of my laughter dry and distant. "If it does, at least I'll know I tried."

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Did You Know?

Samaria is the poorest region on the map, despite Lume being the smallest island in existence. The other continents-Historia, Oakwyn, and Gladeshaven-surpass them significantly in modernization, civilization, and industrialization.

Samaria's only notable asset is its exotic seafood, but even that dwindles during the dreaded fish famine season.

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