The sky stretched endlessly above, an ocean of pale blue that felt almost taunting. The sun was bright, spilling golden light over the bustling port, but Jaffle hardly noticed. Her stomach churned—not from nerves, not from fear, but from the uneasy knowledge that soon, she would be on the water.

She hated the water.

Beside her, Jade stood with her arms crossed, feet planted firm like the ship’s rolling waves could never knock her off balance. She had always been steady, composed—nothing seemed to shake her. Jaffle envied that.

The port around them thrummed with life. Merchants called out their wares, their voices a blend of rough shouts and smooth persuasion. The scent of salt, fish, and foreign spices clung to the air, mixing with the musty dampness of the dock planks. Jewelry glittered in the sun, deep-colored fruits spilled from wooden crates, and somewhere nearby, the harsh clang of metal on metal rang out as a blacksmith shaped his craft.

Jaffle swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away from the ocean’s restless waves crashing against the stone barriers below. She could already feel it—the queasiness creeping up her throat, the way her limbs felt unsteady even on solid ground.

She exhaled slowly, trying to focus on anything else.

In front of them, a sailor—broad-shouldered and weathered by the sea—stood with his arms folded, his stance firm.

"You do realize we're a merchant ship, correct?" he asked, his voice edged with skepticism.

Jaffle glanced at Jade, watching as her wings twitched slightly—her only sign of impatience.

"I know that," Jade replied, her tone calm but unyielding. "But you're the only ship leaving port for Zirahkti. We just need passage across the water—we won’t be in your way."

The sailor exhaled sharply through his nose. "I can’t—"

Jade moved before he could finish, her hand slipping into a small leather pouch at her side. She held it up just enough for him to see inside, the gleam of gold catching the sunlight.

"Sylúthorian coins," she said smoothly. "Five now, five more when we dock."

Jaffle saw the shift immediately—the way his eyes widened, his fingers twitching just slightly. Even she had to admit, it was a tempting offer.

His gaze snapped back to Jade, suspicion flickering in his expression. "How did you get Sylúthorian currency? Their newest king has closed the borders—those coins shouldn't even be here."

Jaffle stiffened. Damn it, Jade.

But Jade didn’t hesitate. Her expression remained neutral, unreadable. If anything, a ghost of a smirk curled the edges of her lips.

"I have my ways," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "Now, will you take us across or not?"

She made a show of lowering the pouch slightly, as if the deal might slip through her fingers at any moment.

Jaffle didn’t miss the way the sailor's gaze followed the movement, the way he swallowed like his throat had gone dry. Greed wins every time.

Finally, he let out a resigned sigh. "Fine," he muttered. "We’ll let you aboard. But only to Zirahkti. We're making port in Retergor—that's as far as we take you. You want a specific destination? You find another ship."

"That will be perfect." Jade’s smirk widened as she placed five coins into his palm with practiced ease. She turned on her heel and strode up the gangplank, her wings tucked tight against her back.

Jaffle exhaled, forcing herself to move. Each step up the gangplank felt heavier than the last.

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The ship creaked beneath her boots, the boards groaning as she stepped onto the deck. The instant she left solid ground, her stomach twisted, and a cold sweat prickled the back of her neck.

She swallowed against the nausea rising in her throat. Not yet. Not here.

"How did you get those coins?" she hissed, trying to focus on Jade instead of the gentle sway of the ship beneath her feet. "I thought you didn’t have any money!"

Jade didn’t turn to face her. She moved to the railing, trailing her fingers along the wood as if lost in thought. “Coins from my past life. Before all of this.”

Her voice was quieter now, almost distant.

Jaffle furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

Jade hesitated for only a moment. “I don’t have much left. I figured I might as well use them if we want to leave.” She paused. “Won’t be much use for long.”

Jaffle barely had time to process her words before the ship lurched. The ropes creaked, the sails caught the wind, and the dock—along with everything safe and stable—began to shrink in the distance.

Jaffle gripped the railing with white-knuckled fingers, swallowing hard against the rolling nausea. Great. Just great.

They weren’t just leaving the port. They were leaving behind everything that had once been safe.

________________________________________________________

The sky stretched endlessly above, an ocean of pale blue that mocked her with its stillness. The real ocean, the one beneath the creaking deck of the ship, was anything but still. It churned and rolled, sending waves crashing against the wooden hull, each rise and fall of the ship twisting Jaffle’s stomach into knots.

She clenched the railing with both hands, her knuckles turning white. The salty wind whipped at her hair, making it cling to her damp skin. She wanted to look strong, to act like the gentle sway of the ship didn’t make her feel like she was about to spill the meager contents of her stomach overboard. But the truth was, she felt miserable.

“You’re looking a little green there,” Jade’s voice came from behind her, amused but not unkind.

Jaffle swallowed hard, refusing to meet her gaze. “I’m fine,” she lied, though her grip on the railing said otherwise.

Jade leaned beside her, the ocean breeze ruffling the edges of her cloak. “You always were a terrible liar.”

Jaffle scowled but didn’t argue. She couldn’t. Not when she was holding back the urge to vomit into the sea below.

The merchant ship was sturdy, its crew experienced and efficient, but that didn’t make the journey any easier. The first day had been spent adjusting to the constant motion, the second trying to force food down despite her rebelling stomach. Now, on the third day, she still hadn’t found her footing. The moment she let go of the railing, she knew she’d be at the mercy of the ocean’s cruel sense of humor.

Jade, of course, was perfectly fine. The way she moved across the deck, steady and sure, made it clear she had done this before. She spoke little about her past—at least, the parts before Jaffle had met her—but there were moments like these where it bled through. The way she carried herself, the way she knew things.

Jaffle inhaled sharply through her nose. "How much longer?"

Jade glanced out at the endless waves. “A few more days, if the winds are kind. Maybe less.”

Jaffle groaned. She didn’t know if she could last that long.

She tried to focus on something—anything—other than her seasickness. The crew bustled around them, adjusting ropes, calling orders, ensuring the ship kept its course. The captain, a gruff man with streaks of gray in his beard, had kept his distance since they boarded. As long as they weren’t in the way, he didn’t care much about their presence.

That was fine by Jaffle.

It wasn’t until the fourth day that the uneasy peace of their journey shattered.

________________________________________________________

It started with a shout from the crow’s nest.

“Sails on the horizon!”

Jaffle, sitting on a crate near the mast, forced herself to her feet. Her legs still felt unsteady, but the fear creeping into the sailors' voices cut through her nausea.

Jade was already moving, striding toward the ship’s railing, her wings twitching slightly. Jaffle followed, gripping the railing beside her and squinting against the glare of the sun.

In the distance, dark sails loomed on the horizon, cutting through the waves like a predator on the hunt. Even from here, Jaffle could see the symbol painted across the canvas—a jagged, crude emblem of a shark’s open maw.

Her stomach dropped for an entirely different reason.

"Pirates," someone muttered, and the word sent a ripple of unease through the crew.

Jaffle turned to Jade. “Is that—?”

Jade’s expression was unreadable, but the slight tension in her shoulders told Jaffle everything she needed to know.

Pirates of the ship Phantom Tide. The ones who wanted vengeance. The ones who wouldn’t hesitate to tear this ship apart.

The ship’s captain barked orders, his voice sharp and commanding. “Weapons ready! Move, you bastards! We’re not going down easy!”

The merchant ship wasn’t built for battle, but the crew had weapons—cutlasses, crossbows, whatever they could grab. Jaffle’s fingers twitched toward the dagger at her belt, her heart hammering in her chest.

The pirate ship was getting closer. Fast.

Jade exhaled and turned to her, her gaze steady. “Stay close to me.”

Jaffle swallowed hard and nodded. She didn’t need to be told twice. Her stomach had forgotten about rocking of the ship.