The warmth was the first thing Elodie was aware of, when the morning light came in. She was eager to turn her back to the sun, if just for a few more moments. There was something about lingering in the warm dark that was so enticing. She rolled over—only to find herself face-to-face with Kas.

He was still sleeping, his features open and untroubled by any of what had come before.

That was good. He needed the rest, after everything he'd been through. The both of them had been through so much in the last few weeks.

She'd only dared to dream of such a moment as this when she was alone in her cabin or on watch in the netting up-high. Even after everything he had done, she still loved him, craved him, wanted to be by his side.

A proper gentlewoman would not have stayed by his side like this, all through the night. But perhaps she was done with being a gentlewoman—at least, to some extent. She would not let fears of impropriety get in the way of what—or who—she truly wanted.

She wanted to feel his warmth, to touch him.

But she was content for now to lie beside him. That was more than enough.

Still, she must have shifted or brushed too close against him in some way, for his eyes opened softly, a gentle smile on his face. Only for it to falter for a moment. He brushed a stray lock of her hair out of her face. His smile brightened, a ray of sun that was brighter than the ones filtering through the window.

"You're still here," he murmured. "I thought it might've all been a dream."

"I'm here," she echoed, lifting a hand to his face. He leaned into her touch, perhaps in spite of himself.

"I still can't believe it," he admitted. "I really did think you'd hate me, after it all was over."

"I don't think I ever could."

He wrapped a hand around her wrist. "It was colder than I thought, in the Captain's quarters of the Morgenstern. Not like here."

He paused, his eyes flicking over to the window. "I suppose we should probably get up before the Captain starts sending out a search, shouldn't we?"

"Oh, but we should stay a little longer." Elodie pulled herself closer to him, burrowing into the blankets. She laid her head on his chest. "I could stay here with you all day. It's quiet here."

The boat had gone relatively still, and there were none of the usual distant shouts, thuds, and other such sounds of the others at work, or the whispering of the winds.

"It's too quiet." Kas frowned, stiffening in her arms. "Something's wrong."

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Nearly everyone had gotten above-decks before Kas and Elodie had. Whispers filled the air, for the wind was gone and could not carry them away. Elodie pushed through the soldiers and sailors, with Kas trailing behind her as she made her way to one of the sidings. What she saw made her understand what the commotion was about.

The Albatross had gone quite still, bobbing in incremental forward motion, but it did not hover, nor did it soar across the tide. The golden sunrise was partially obscured by swirling silver mists, covering the skyline, rising from the flattening waves.

"What's happened?" Elodie looked to Kas—but he also looked disturbed.

"I've never seen anything like this."

"Neither have I." Ventus joined them from behind.

"It's pretty, though." Elodie leaned over the railing—just in time to see a dark figure in the center of the mists. They swirled and unfolded around the figure, and the seas calmed as the dark silhouette of a woman drew closer. In the quiet, the absence of the wind, a high melody carried through it all—narwhal song.

"Kas, hold onto her," Ventus warned—but Kas had already grabbed on to her sleeves, a gentle yet firm hold.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The song was so beautiful, so familiar—but Elodie did not feel the compulsion to jump, to join in, to find its source.

Maybe that was because she was certain that the woman in front of her was its source.

As the mists unfolded around her, Elodie could make out the woman on the water's features. Like the mists, her long hair was a pale gray, and followed the sea-like motion of the mist, unfurling to a wind that no one else could feel, or perhaps some other ethereal power. She wore a tattered white gown, and the seas calmed beneath her bare feet.

She carried with her a large sword, one unlike the cutlasses or rapiers or broadswords that Elodie had trained with. The blade had a most unique shape, making it look more like a piece of art than a weapon. The silver of it shimmered with hints of the northern lights in its depths. The long silver hilt was trimmed with gold, with more intricate metalwork around the hand-guards on both sides of the hilt. A Manoan crystal was embedded in its center, surrounded by the design of wings like that of a pelican.

As the woman came closer to the Albatross, the whispers drew even more fearful, and the sailors withdrew from that side of the ship, the side that Elodie was standing on.

A woman with pale gray hair, an unearthly sword, and surrounding by swirling mists—Elodie knew who she was. After all, she was born just a week before her festival day.

Elodie gently pried Kas's fingers off of her as the woman stepped into the sky, to the railing. She smiled as reassuringly as she could. He didn't seem entirely reassured, but he let go anyway. Perhaps because that was when the singing had stopped.

Elodie took a step back, and offered a hand to the woman, who now stood on the railing.

"Lady of the Mists, Lady of Tidal Desolation, we welcome you."

She did not seem to hear Elodie at first. She looked around with wide, sea-green eyes—before her eyes then fell upon Elodie. She nodded, accepted her hand, and Elodie's help stepping down onto the deck.

Kas, Jade, and Ventus all knelt before the Lady of Desolation, and Elodie was about to when the Lady spoke.

"Elodie Fleetwood." Her voice was low and breathy. "It has been a long time."

"Have we met before?" Elodie tilted her head.

"Not truly." The Lady shook her head. "You had yet to be born, but the spark of life had begun on your mother's last voyage when we met."

"My mother?" Elodie could not understand. Keira had never mentioned anything so strange as encountering a goddess before she was born.

"Yes, Keira Fleetwood, wasn't it?" The Lady smiled, a sad thing. "A fierce countrywoman of mine is to be respected. Perhaps that was why I chose to give her child my gift."

"Your gift?" Elodie echoed.

"Selkies such as myself are often born, but they can be made as well." The Lady paused and frowned. "There are many arcane powers in this world, used for evil and dominion. I would rather they never resurface. But it is difficult to be everywhere all at once, yes?"

"I suppose it would be." Elodie considered this. "But I'm also not a god."

The Lady laughed, a bittersweet thing. "And neither am I, despite rumors to the contrary."

She raised her sword, lying the blade flat in one hand, while holding onto the hilt. She looked down at the sword, and then nodded, as if confirming something for herself. She then looked to Elodie.

"My people, the Order of the Selkies, we use our own otherworldly powers to destroy what threatens to devour all." She raised the sword to Elodie. "You have only begun to reach into the power of the Selkies. This should help you along."

"I-I'm a Selkie?" Elodie's hands hovered over the blade as she admired it. "I don't understand—"

"It was a gift, child." The Lady smiled. "To join my order, to become a legendary warrior—it is a rare gift. But I saw the potential of that spark of life all those years ago."

She then pushed the sword into Elodie's hands.

"It's yours now. Use it as you see fit."

"I couldn't possibly accept this—" Elodie shook her head.

She'd heard the stories of the mysterious Selkie warriors, of their legendary swords. Her mother had been the one to tell them, stories that her mother had told her when they had lived on the Emerald Isle. Stories of men and women with seal-skins and silver swords who escaped to the seas in the form of seals. Seals, not the narwhals Elodie now knew them to be from their songs.

Did her mother know, then? She must have, what Elodie was, what Elodie would become.

Staring into the depths of the shimmering silver blade, she was beginning to realize so much more about her mother. About why she had insisted on teaching her the art of the sword, why she had seemed so disappointed all her life that Elodie was so set on tradition, on following the life set up before her by her grandfather.

Because her mother had known the truth, that the Lady of Desolation, Lady of the Mists had chosen her for her order, as one of her champions.

Elodie had always been meant for so much more than tea parties and high society.

"It's yours now," the Lady echoed, with a sad smile. "You'll know what to do, when the time is right."

Elodie allowed her fingers to close around the hilt. She lifted it from the palm of her other hand, the blade aloft in the air. Wielding this sword was like wielding an extension of herself, like using her own arms or legs. A perfect weight, it had an equally-perfect balance.

"Thank you," she said as she caught the Lady's eyes. "I'll try to be worthy of this."

"You already are." The Lady's smile grew warmer as the mists gathered around her. They enveloped her—and then she was gone.

The wind picked up, and the tide began to bob more quickly again. The Albatross was moving again, and the mists receded, leaving only the sunrise and tears in Elodie's eyes.