The night was beautiful.

Delia stood by the bow of the ship, watching the glimmer of the moon reflect off the teal blue of the water.

The bow of the deck was a place she, Jonah, and Jeremy often gathered, watching the horizon toward which they sailed. It was a place they found peace, seeing the setting sun and the radiance of the moon. A place where they could speak freely, letting the winds carry the words away.

The helmsman, whenever present, said little to the trio. He was particular about anyone else being so close to the ship's figurehead but always excused them.

Being the captain's daughter had its perk.

With a smile tugging her lips, she moved her hands over the owl leading their expedition. Its warm and soft feathers nuzzled her hands back, an odd sensation, considering it was made of wood. Perhaps another function of the scripts?

Delia disregarded the thought, basking in the familiarity of its warmth and the contrasting wind that blew in her hair. It was a feeling that she forgot.

How long had it been since she last saw the beauty of the blue? Let the wind flutter her hair or smell the salt of the sea?

How long had it been since she had come above deck?

The world had changed the day the Kraken attacked. The tales on her bookshelves were suddenly all real. Monsters were no longer fragments of imagination, and the likelihood of alien lands of snow and sand became a question of distance.

What did the soil they voyaged towards hold for her?

Though the land was far, she could see it with her naked eyes, even through the fog. She could see flurries of movements within the distant clouds - birds. And she could hear a soft melody, an entrancing song that caused her muscles to relax; that was probably because she had one drink too many.

Delia let out a long sigh, letting her breath join the mist in the air.

The human eye could see infinitely away, but the curvature of the earth meant she could only see three miles.

Was that right? It sounded right.

She did the mental maths before her eyes widened. Three miles meant they would be upon the land in ten minutes.

Turning her back to the sea, Delia searched for her Pa. It was a quick search.

The main deck was littered with empty cups, their owners sprawled out on the floor, snoring away. Her Pa wasn’t a light drinker, so he was unlikely to be amongst the piles of bodies.

His room then.

She made her way across, slowing in pace as the deck tried to grab her shoes, stickied by the drinks of the drunkards. The drunken men themselves were also obstacles. She tiptoed whilst her eyes searched on the off chance the man sat somewhere, smoking a cigar.

It wasn’t her job to tell the old man. The barrelman should have told him, though Delia supposed he was asleep, like the rest of the crew. She didn’t blame them. It was due time they could relax, given what they had endured the last months.

As she crept past the fallen men with their chests heaving, even she felt the compulsion of sleep make her eyelids feel heavy, the symphony of the snores a soft lullaby to her ears.

She shook her head, ignoring the invitation. “I’ll sleep when we get to land.”

Her eyes scanned the slumbering figures one last time before trailing across the empty stern of the ship. The captain was indeed absent, as was the second mate. They were in the cabin then.

Delia made her way back and walked into the hallway of the cabin, illuminated by the orange hue of candlelight. It was a wide corridor, the dim glow of lanterns still leaving patches of darkness and shadows, which flickered against the walls.

She ran her hand along the polished wood, feeling the smoothness of the surface beneath her fingers. The Flightless Owl was a beautiful ship, and Delia's eyes watered, realising that this was probably the last time she would walk down these halls.

Her pace dwindled at the thought, and her senses expanded, finally exploring her environment. They were ingrained in her mind before memories superimposed themselves and nostalgia washed the world over.

She continued down the hallway, her gaze lingering on the wood carvings that adorned the walls. She saw a little girl, along with a boy a tad taller than her, etching into ebony panels before a disgruntled man chased them off. The children screamed with laughter, faces beaming in contrast to the furrowed brows of the shouting old man.

Delia smiled at the amusing sight.

The kids sprinted off into distance, making their way around the maze below deck, and she followed them at a steady pace — they were heading in the same direction anyway.

Turning on the corridor, Delia found a young girl with golden locks, perhaps fourteen, crying in the corner. The tears left black rivers on the girl's face, and her muffled sobs caused her to shudder.

With wrinkled brows, Delia walked towards the young lady. Why was she crying? Fourteen was a little old to cry like a child. She had never done so, had she?

She paused as a young man appeared and knelt beside the crying girl. The boy didn't say anything, he just sat against the wall and gave the girl a shoulder to cry on.

Delia's smile widened at the sight, a fuzzy warmth glowing in her heart. The water in her own eyes threatened to spill with her smile.

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She continued walking past the two kids, giving them the privacy they deserved, listening to the gentle lapping of waves against the hull with each of her footsteps. Laughter rang behind her, and she turned her head, watching a young lady yank at a young man's sleeves, pulling him forwards, leading him to wherever she was going. The woman strode past her with the man reluctantly trodding behind, though both of their faces revealed a slight grin.

The pair walked into the distance, into a room with closed doors — her room — before the vision vanished and the ghosts of the past evaporated.

The laughter absent, Delia’s footsteps seemed to echo, alone. Like the gentle beat of a song, rhythmic and slow. It was a calming hymn, which didn’t help her already heavy eyelids.

She was half tempted to just go to bed. Her old man would’ve known they were approaching land, he was the captain, after all.

“No,” she chided herself. “I’ll sleep after getting to land.”

Clearing the plague that had bloomed in her mind, she increased her pace. The captains room was close by, and within minutes, she arrived by her old man’s door. She raised her hand, but before she could knock, the door opened.

Greg stood by the doorway as though expecting her. Perhaps he was aware, after all. Still, it was better to clear doubts.

“Pa, we’ll be arriving in a few minutes,” she said.

Her Pa gazed at her with a blank face, his eyes vacant.

“Pa?”

The man ignored her, sauntering past absent-mindedly.

How much had the man been drinking?

“Pa, is everything ok?” she called out, concern laced in her words. She knew they were celebrating since sunset, but for him to be drunk?

"Pa?" she said again.

The man continued to walk onwards.

Delia ran after him, tugging at his arms, failing to garner his attention. Was he sleepwalking?

She had never seen sleepwalking, only read about it, but this didn’t seem to fit. You could wake people who sleepwalked; besides, he had never sleepwalked before. She doubted you picked up the habit at sixty years of age.

Dread dripped in her mind, the drinks she had drunk fueling its flames.

She yanked at his arms frantically, but the captain continued to stroll.

Greg seemed like a zombie. He didn’t have rotten flesh and wasn’t trying to consume her, but his lifeless walking instilled the same kind of fear in her; he appeared like a walking corpse.

Ignoring the somersaults of her stomach, Delia ran in front of him, blocking his path. Greg walked into her and then through her, his weight and size barging her to one side.

“Pa!”

Something was wrong. Panic gripped her throat as she pulled his arms to no avail.

“Pa, wake up! What’s wrong with you?”

Delia tugged a couple more times before giving up on her futile actions. She ran towards the closest door and unleashed a barrage with her fists, hoping for aid.

The door quickly opened to reveal the tired face of the second mate, who had clearly just woken up.

“Jeremy, something’s wrong with Pa!”

The second mate looked at her, then past her to the captain, and then past the captain towards the deck.

Finally, his eyes glazed over.

Fear clutched at her heart as he too joined her old man, meandering towards the deck.

“What’s going on?”

Perhaps she was the one sleeping. Delia bit her lip in hope, but the pain informed her otherwise. “Think Del, think.”

Delia stood still for a moment, gathering the thoughts that seemed to run rampant. They didn’t respond to her voice, ignored the sight of her, and pulling them was futile.

“What can I do?”

Her voice sounded more like a wheeze as her chest constricted. The pit in her stomach grew, and the drumming of her heart was so loud, it almost drowned the sound of singing.

“Singing?”

Her eyes widened in alarm.

"How did I not notice?!"

Delia bolted past the two dawdling men and turned a corner as she headed towards Cassie’s room.

“Please be awake, please!”

She arrived with the speed of a storm and she slammed her fists just as violently.

“Cassie! Wake up, Cassie!”

Each second seemed to stretch as she pounded against the oak, harder and harder. Her knuckles began hurting, but anxiety won over, its hold on her mind overpowering the pain. Cassie had to wake up.

“I’m coming,” a weary voice finally said.

“Hurry, please.”

Cassie opened the door with a yawn and stretched her arms above her head. She appeared groggy and dishevelled, with bed hair sticking out in every direction.

“What is it Del?” she murmured.

“Cassie, I need your help!”

“Whaaa…” she started, but her words cut off as she let out another yawn. “I’m sorry, w-”

“We’re under attack!”

The bleary eyes of the doctor focused, her daze from moments ago vanquished. “Who’s hurt?”

“No one, I think.”

“Ok, give me a few minutes. I’ll get supplies ready,” the doctor said, walking back into her room. “What are we up against?”

“I don’t know! Just come! Please.”

Cassie paused and quirked an eyebrow. “Del, I can’t help if I don't take any equipment with me, especially if- ”

“No, you don’t understand! It’ll be faster to show you.”

Delia didn’t wait for her reaction, turning back and sprinting towards the deck. If the other two kept walking at the same pace, she could still get there before them.

The tapping of accompanying footsteps caused her heart to beat faster. She spared a glance behind her, and relief flooded her on confirmation it belonged to the doctor.

“Thank God,” she whispered to herself.

For the briefest of moments, Delia thought it was someone else. It was a terrifying thought.

Cassie was the only one she could rely on if she understood what was going on correctly.

Delia turned a sharp corner and saw the two men at the base of the stairs.

“Don’t let them get out!”

“What?”

“Just trust me!”

Delia dashed forward, fear fuelling her. Cassie wasn’t far behind, and they both reached Jeremy by the time he was three steps up.

“Pull him!” Delia shouted.

Cassie didn’t question her, perhaps because of the urgency in her voice.

The two tugged at one leg, but Jeremy didn't budge as he held onto the sides of the stairs.

“Jeremy. Jeremy? What’s wrong with him?” Cassie asked.

“Sirens!”