Erytha was more majestic than Azurea could have imagined from her mother's stories. It had to be given that the island inspired the Switzers to grow a garden and secondhandly inspired Azurea to delve into botany.

Her eyes roamed the sprawling landscape before her—a tapestry of nature woven with gold and emerald hues. The trees stretched skyward with wide, twisted trunks and leaves like glistening scales where sunlight shone on them. Flowers of every color spilled over mossy paths in a deliberate chaotic growth, guided by nature's unseen hand and the visible muddy hands of the gardeners. If this place was created by the power of a Sailing Spirit, then Azurea wondered what Syan could do with the blue pearls if he decided to keep them.

Curiosity continued to pull her forward. Each corner she turned revealed something new—aqueducts that sang crystalline notes as they carried water around the island, strange blossoms that glowed faintly even in the daylight, and roots the size of walls cradling structures.

Azurea found herself wandering into the heart of Erytha's town, where life buzzed with an infectious vibrancy. Market stalls lined the cobbled streets, hawking everything from exotic fruits and flowers to shining trinkets of metal and glass. Vendors shouted jovially, their voices rising and falling with the sea breeze, while children chased each other between tables stacked with colorful wares. She slowed her pace, savoring the warmth of the sun and the sounds of laughter.

A sweet aroma drifted her way, and she turned to see a bakery with golden rolls cooling in the window. Her stomach gave an audible protest, and for the first time, Azurea realized how much time had passed since the provisions she had eaten that morning.

"Miss? Care to try something?" A cheerful woman beckoned her to a table with flaky pastries drizzled in syrup.

Azurea hesitated, feeling for the pouch of coins at her hip. She hadn't come here to spend money frivolously, but the sweet scent was too inviting to resist.

"One, please," Azurea said, handing over a coin. The woman smiled and passed a pastry still warm from the oven to Azurea.

Taking a bite, Azurea closed her eyes. The taste was heavenly—honeyed, spiced, and impossibly soft. It felt indulgent like she was finally rewarding herself after the stress of the last few days. Her thoughts turned to Syan and Mr. Félix, who she left standing at the ship.

She frowned.

As much as Azurea wanted to bask in the wonders of Erytha, a nagging thought tugged at the back of her mind. She left Syan and Mr. Félix on the boat without even saying goodbye. They were likely fine without her—Syan could take care of himself, and Mr. Félix had proven far more resourceful than his age let on—but guilt began to gnaw at her all the same. She had spent most of her time sightseeing instead of doing something productive.

…you are my responsibility.

The memory of Syan's words echoed in Azurea's mind like an anchor tied to her thoughts. Sooner or later, she and her companions would be on the waters again, where pirates and monsters waited to attack them. It only now dawned on her how brutal they would have to fight for their lives, and she didn't bring anything to the table. Although she managed to get Syan out of the Switzer estate and directed the group to Erytha, there were only so many times when her unique knowledge about a place would come in handy.

Was Syan right to see her as nothing more than a person to protect?

The pastry suddenly felt heavy in her hand.

Power. Like Syan and Mr. Félix, she needed power—something to protect herself with and offer to the group besides fleeting knowledge of plants and places—but that wasn't easy to obtain. Mr. Félix gained his ability to allow objects to move through him like a specter when he was on the verge of death. Syan got his power mostly by accident.

Azurea paused in the middle of the street. The world continued to move around her—townsfolk bustling, merchants shouting—but she stood frozen in thought.

Could she make her own phantom relic? Mr. Félix had mentioned it was possible with time and a strong desire. Desire. Did she even have a drive that could force her to bring out a terrifying strength like the Abyssal Warden? She loved plants, and she loved the Switzer business, but there was nothing—no singular goal—that burned in her heart like a flame. She felt content at home. Content exploring places like Erytha. Maybe that was enough.

But it wasn't. She couldn't be content if she wanted to stay by Syan's side and explore more of the world. Not anymore.

What about weapons? She could become proficient in fighting with a weapon.

A sharp pain burned on the back of her shoulder where the harpy attacked her. Azurea quivered as if she stepped out on a winter morning as she briefly imagined herself fighting for her life against the harpy. Although she doubted she would ever have to fight something like that often, it was still nerve-racking to think she could stand up against something so dangerous, even with a sword.

A ranged weapon seemed more palatable, but guns only had one use before reloading, and bows required strength that Azurea didn't have.

Azurea continued to walk down the street as she unconsciously finished the bread. Its warmth failed to ease her mind.

Her empty hands were sticky from the syrup, so she looked around for a place to clean them. She walked into the closest store, hoping to find someone who could offer her a wet rag.

The sign on the open door said "Clinic," which reminded Azurea that having medical supplies would be important.

The moment Azurea stepped through the door, the air shifted. The scent of clean linen, dried herbs, and faintly bitter tinctures met her nose, a far cry from the salty breeze and fragrant food stalls outside. The soft creak of wooden floorboards beneath her feet announced her arrival, but no one immediately greeted her.

The clinic was modest in size but surprisingly well-kept. Its shelves lined the walls and were packed with neatly labeled jars of herbs and powders and glass vials filled with various liquids that glimmered in the soft light. A few bundles of dried lavender and sage hung from hooks above the shelves, releasing a faint, calming aroma into the space.

To the left were a few simple beds lined up against the wall—each covered with crisp white sheets and light blankets, ready for the next patient. A small wooden stool sat beside each one, holding bowls of water, clean cloths, and tools carefully arranged on trays. Some tools gleamed faintly in the light filtering through the open window—a pair of scissors, forceps, and other instruments Azurea didn't quite recognize but assumed were meant for treating wounds.

On the opposite side of the room, a counter stretched the length of the wall, stacked with more supplies. Mortars and pestles were scattered among small wooden boxes and scrolls—likely filled with notes about local remedies. A large glass jar of honey sat near a row of salves, its golden contents catching the light.

Potted plants sat in the corners—familiar ones like aloe and mint, both useful for medical purposes based on the books she read on plant uses. A small vase with fresh wildflowers sat on the counter, adding a delicate touch that softened the otherwise sterile atmosphere.

She heard faint rustling and footsteps from the back room, prompting her to step forward.

"Hello?" Azurea called softly, hesitant to disturb the tranquility.

A moment later, a woman emerged from behind a curtain, her sleeves rolled up and her apron faintly smudged with powdered herbs. She looked in her early thirties, with a calm, kind face, and chestnut brown hair pulled into a loose bun. Her sharp green eyes quickly assessed Azurea, lingering on the faint tension in her shoulders and how she favored her injured side.

"A recent injury in the left shoulder," the woman said, her voice steady and soothing. "I don't see any bandages under your clothes or blood, so I can assume it has healed up fine but has caused lingering trauma. I have something that can ease that."

Azurea blinked in surprise, instinctively reaching for her shoulder as if she could hide the pain. "Oh no, miss. I was looking for a place to wash my hands and maybe buy a medical kit."

"Are you sure you don't want me to look at your injury? Assuming you buy a medical kit, I won't charge you for an inspection."

"I… suppose a check-up wouldn't hurt."

Azurea made her way to one of the basins of water. After she worked off the sticky syrup from her fingers in the cool waters, she sat on one of the beds and allowed the woman to inspect the scar on her back.

"This was a deep cut…" She remarked, pausing occasionally as if she was unknowingly speaking her thoughts out loud. "Created by a sharp, curved-edged something or other. The stitch work is clean and expertly done. Must have had good money to get someone to do this. The scarring is minimal… had a few days to heal and is barely visible now. Despite that, you're likely experiencing strain on the muscle or tendons, causing your stiffness. I can fix that with an ointment I made."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The woman quickly retrieved a small, dark amber jar from one of the shelves and handed it to Azurea. When Azurea opened the jar, she was hit with a gritty, earthy scent mixed with a hint of mint. She tried to figure out what was in the salve, noting that it obviously had mint as one of the components. The earthy smell indicated a root of some kind was thrown into the mix, and something sticky kept the concoction together: beeswax?

Azurea looks up at the woman to confirm her hypothesis. "I can tell that there's mint and some kind of root in here and what I think is beeswax to help it stick to the body, but how does all of that help me heal?"

The woman looked surprised, but in a way that suggested not many people tried to guess what was in her remedies before she had a chance to explain. "The peppermint oil is meant for cooling relief, and the comfrey root is for tissue repair. You were correct about the beeswax. The only thing you missed was calendula, which reduces inflammation. Are you aspiring to be a doctor?"

"I just know a lot about plants from growing them and haven't looked too deep into their uses."

"Why just grow plants if you're not planning on using them?"

The question caught Azurea off guard for a short instance. "I don't think it's a requirement for something to exist just to be used. Isn't it enough for a thing to be admired?"

"I can't think of anything on Earth or in the heavens that doesn't have a use. Even the stars, the most unreachable things to us mortals, are used by us for navigation and storytelling."

Azurea tried to think of different things that had no use other than to exist or be admired by onlookers. "What about mountains?" she asked confidently. “Aside from making it hard to travel, what use are they?"

"Providing freshwater and serving as natural barriers from harsh weather conditions."

Azurea blinked. This woman was far more knowledgeable than she expected. "Well, just because something has a use doesn't mean it's useful to everyone." Azurea was shocked at how bitter the words tasted on her tongue.

The woman didn't flinch. "Is a thing only valuable if it has multiple uses, or is the value based on how good it is in a given task?"

Azurea wasn't sure how to answer the question. Surely both were true on some level, but if that made something—or, in her case, someone—valuable, it didn't matter which one was right. It was still important for her to be with Syan to keep the marriage plans on hold, but if Azurea couldn’t find a way to justify her presence past that, then she was nothing more than a burden.

Suddenly, a bell rang through the town, scaring Azurea out of her thoughts. The woman looked confused but remained calm as she made her way to the clinic's entrance.

"I have to go. Make sure you apply that to the injured area twice daily: once in the morning and again in the evening."

"Is something wrong?" asked Azurea.

"It's nothing you should concern yourself with, but I apologize for leaving you like this."

"Wait! I haven't bought anything yet."

"Were you planning to leave the island soon?"

"Um… no?" If it was up to Syan, the group would be off Erytha before evening fell, but that wasn't likely to happen.

"Then you still have time to pay me."

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

Erytha's docks were crowded for an island Félix hadn't heard of until recently. Sailors shouted orders as crates of spices, dried fish, and exotic fruits were hoisted onto ships bound for other ports. Saltwater and tar filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of roasted nuts and grilled meat from the nearby market. Félix adjusted the cuffs of his worn coat and stepped aside to let a group of dockhands roll barrels of wine past him.

He scanned the bustling piers, counting masts and hull sizes, mentally noting which ships might withstand a long journey to Egypt—and which crews looked capable of handling themselves if trouble arose. Most of them wouldn't be enough. Small traders, fishermen, and ferrymen—they'd capsize at the first sign of a pirate's flag or scatter in the shadow of a sea beast.

If only he could get Syan to use the Gia Whale's power to the fullest, then… well, they still needed a bigger ship and crew, but a full-powered Sailing Spirit would lessen the stress of the journey. The boy didn't even realize what he carried. When Clovis Sylvestre had the pearls, he could turn the tides to his favor, split islands like he was cutting bread, and make allies with independent islands with small demonstrations of the Gia Whale's power. If Syan could stop thinking about the blue pearls as pirate trinkets, maybe they wouldn't have to go to Egypt in the first place.

Félix exhaled sharply. No. He couldn't put it all on the boy's shoulders. Not when danger was already circling them like vultures. To combat these threats, Syan needed to learn how to use the power of a Sailing Spirit, which would take time regardless of what the young merchant chose.

"Félix Michael? What are you doing here?" A voice cut through the bustle of the docks.

The voice hit Félix like a sudden wave—familiar, weathered, and steeped in old memories. He turned sharply to find William Birchwood standing near a stack of crates, arms crossed and lips curled into a grin that didn't quite meet his eyes. His weathered face was lit by the late morning sun filtering through the rigging overhead. He hadn't changed much in sixteen years—still broad-shouldered with a slight stoop that hinted at years of hard labor. His dark hair was streaked with gray now, cut short and practical, but his sharp eyes carried the same calculating glint Félix remembered from their time under Clovis.

Félix blinked once before his lips twitched into a half-smile. "I could ask you the same thing. You're looking well for an ex-sailor."

William huffed, the corner of his mouth curling. "Better than you, it seems. Managed to carve out a comfortable spot here in Erytha as a trade manager."

Félix gave him a quick once-over, noting the crisp shirt and sturdy boots—both a far cry from the ragged gear they'd worn on deck back in the day. "Interesting. I spent the last decade working as a dockhand in Linburg. Feels like proper trade would've been the crew's profession in another life."

William raised a brow. "I doubt it. We weren't the type to settle for counting coins and tallying cargo manifests." He paused. "You mentioned Linburg—do the Switzers still run the place?"

"They are, and I was working for them."

William snorted. "I take it back. You were doing well for yourself despite what your looks suggest."

Félix smirked faintly but shook his head. "My looks don't lie. I stayed at a low-paying position with no aspirations to climb higher."

William's expression shifted, the humor in his tone dimming. "So again, I ask—why are you here? Most don't come to Erytha from the mainland for anything other than sightseeing, and you're not the type to sightsee."

Félix's gaze flickered out toward the ships in the harbor before he answered. "I found the Gia Whale—and the one who now holds it."

William stiffened. "Are you saying it isn't Kiren?"

"No. The pearls are in the hands of a merchant's son, and I'm helping him get to the Library of Alexandria."

William's brow furrowed. "The Library? For what reason?"

"He wants to find a way to disconnect himself from the pearls and return to his life."

William's jaw tightened. “…And you’re… helping this person? Why would you let him believe something like that was possible?"

Félix exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not like I didn't try to explain, but the boy was persistent."

William's eyes narrowed. "Boy?"

"He's at least twenty," Félix replied defensively. "As I was saying, with him being the proper owner of the Gia Whale, it's my responsibility to guide him down whatever path he chooses—as per the captain's orders."

William leaned back on the crates, crossing his arms again. "When did he give you such an order—and why? Did he know who the pearls were going to end up with?"

Félix's gaze dropped briefly before returning with a hard edge. "He assured me that the Gia Whale wouldn't end up with Kiren and that I could trust the next person who would have them. It has to do with a technique he called 'last will' or something similar.

William shook his head slowly. "The whole thing smells like a fish market to me. Why would the captain allow the Gia Whale to fall into the hands of someone who will just throw them away?"

Félix crossed his arms, his voice lowering. "I doubt Clovis foresaw this, but that's not the biggest problem. A harpy attacked Syan, which pushed him to want to part with the pearls."

William's expression darkened at the mention of a harpy. "A harpy? As in a single one without a flock nearby? That's odd."

Félix nodded grimly. "It gets worse. On our way here, we caught wind that Kiren was on his way to kill the boy. We're here for safety—hopefully to find a ship big enough to hold a crew to keep the boy safe until we get to Egypt."

"How is Syan handling all of this?"

Félix sighed, remembering Syan's reaction when he found out Kiren was after him. "Better than most. He's willing to accept counsel in dire situations and act accordingly but rejects the Gia Whale like a cat to water. I want him to use the pearls' power more, but that has proven difficult."

"Do you really believe you are doing right by him?"

Félix raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You said Captain Sylvestre chose this kid, but you don't know how or why. And yet, you're allowing him to go down a path you don't even know where it will end. Doesn't that bother you? Doesn't that make you question what the captain was thinking? And what's this business with 'last wills' or whatever it's called?"

Félix's face hardened as if the questions offended him. "Do you not trust our captain, William?"

William took a step back, but his face remained the same. He didn't have any powers like Félix, nor did he have the ambition to manifest a phantom relic. William was sure Félix wouldn't hurt him, but something in the old first mate caused him to not test his luck.

They were pirates, after all.

"Clovis is dead. This isn't about him anymore, it's about the boy who now has the pearls. I'm not ok with leading a kid by blind faith."

Félix's face softened as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "This isn't blind faith. Even if you're right, if it wasn't for me, he would be dead. Now, Kiren McCormick and the rest of the Mediterranean are after him if the boy lives long enough for more people to find out the Gia Whale is active again."

Suddenly, a bell rang through the town. The two men searched the area until they pinpointed the sound coming from somewhere in the big tree. Félix looked to his old crewmate, but William looked confused but not concerned.

"What is that?" asked Félix.

"That's for emergency meetings of Erytha's council. It's nothing to be concerned about normally."

"And this isn't normal?"

"Call it a sailor's intuition. Something about this feels different."

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

When the bell started to ring through the town, I had to stop and catch my breath. I managed to reach the edge of the town and lean against the stone wall of a building. Black dots danced in front of my eyes like fireflies, making me want to throw up my light breakfast.

At that moment, I could barely remember Victoria's prophecy. I still wasn't sure if I believed it, even if I could remember.

However, one phrase haunted me and was louder than the bells.

Your death is certain,

No matter what I did, I was going to die.