The cabin door clicked shut.

  For a heartbeat, the only sound was the wet slaps of the blood sea against the hull. Then, the panic erupted.

  “We’re dead! We’re all dead!” A man clawed at his face.

  “Shut your hole! We’re not going to die," Yoan barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

  The old soldier stood rigid, his gaze sweeping the deck for the young man. “Eyrk—your idea. Make it quick.”

  Eyrk nodded as his hands trembled while he tore a strip from his tunic. “Yes. We… we draw lots.” He spoke up quietly; his usually confident voice was gone, barely audible over the waves.

  “Speak up, Eyrk.” Yoan’s tone was a whetstone, sharpening the command.

  Eyrk flinched, his shoulders lowering. For a moment, he seemed like a boy caught stealing bread, not the leader who had united them against the pale beasts.

  His eyes flicked to the bodies strewn across the deck—seekers who had followed his orders, only to end up dead.

  Yoan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a growl meant for Eyrk alone. “Men died. That’s war. Don’t hesitate now.”

  Eyrk tightened his jaw and straightened his posture.

  He announced louder this time, "I marked one strip; the rest are blank. It's up to chance, so it's fair"

  Mara snorted. “Fair?”

  Lira shoved back. “You’re welcome to jump first.”

  Eyrk held the lots close, his voice steadier but still with a slight waver. “No one touches them until I say so."

  Yoan watched him, arms crossed. “Go on, boy. Lead.”

  The drawing began.

  Mara snatched her strip first. Blank. She grinned, crumpling it as it fell onto the deck.

  Lira—blank.

  Yoan—blank.

  A burly man missing two fingers—blank.

  A red-headed woman—blank.

  Then it was Kael’s turn. The fabric felt heavy. He unfolded it slowly.

  Blank.

  Relief curdled into guilt. Coward, he thought. You’d rather watch a child die than face the sea.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Dozens of other seekers took them—all blank.

  The last slip remained in Eyrk’s palm.

  Only a girl remained—a scrawny kid with brown hair. She couldn’t have been older than twelve winters.

  Kael froze.

  Sera?

  The girl tilted her head, a strand of hair glowing brown. Sera knew this moment. She had lived it many times. She looked up at him as he fixed the fishing nets. Her laughter rang out. “When can I go out on the boat, Kael?”

  But this girl wasn’t laughing. She was still holding the fabric, her fingers trembling.

  Kael’s chest tightened. He saw Sera’s dirty face, screaming his name as the cultists tore them apart. He hadn’t seen her since then. None of his siblings. He hadn’t dared to hope.

  “Wait.”

  He stepped forward, the word raw.

  Everyone turned.

  Eyrk blinked. “Kael, the rules—”

  “I’ll take her place.” Kael snatched the marked slip from the girl’s hand and thrust his blank one into her palm.

  The little girl stared up at him, confusion knitting her brow. “Why…?”

  He didn’t answer. How could he? This girl wasn’t Sera.

  The Captain materialized at the rail. “How touching. The dock rat plays the hero.”

  Eyrk grabbed Kael’s arm. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Kael pulled free.

  “I do.” His voice didn’t shake.

  The girl hugged the blank strip to her chest like it was sacred as she stared up at him. She didn’t understand. Maybe she never would. That was fine.

  Kael stepped toward the edge of the ship. The boards groaned beneath his feet. The ocean of blood swirled below, slow and hungry.

  Lira followed, steps slow, deliberate.

  Her expression twisted as if she were trying to make sense of what he was doing.

  “You don’t even know her,” she said.

  Kael paused, glanced at the girl, then back at Lira. “I don’t have to.”

  "Kael," she said. Her voice was slightly angry. “You think this makes you brave? You think this fixes anything?”

  Kael turned slightly. His face was calm, but his eyes weren’t.

  “I think it gives her a chance.”

  She didn’t argue. She just watched, her arms crossed tightly.

  Yoan moved beside her. The old soldier stood tall, back straight despite the ache in his limbs. His voice was low and firm. “You sure?”

  Kael nodded.

  “I’ll keep her safe,” Yoan said, eyes flickering to the young girl.

  Kael managed a faint smile.

  The wind picked up. The sea responded, a sluggish wave slapping the hull like a held breath breaking.

  Kael took one step onto the railing. Then another.

  He closed his eyes, and he remembered his Nan.

  In.

  Out.

  “If this is what the trial demands,” he muttered, “then so be it.”

  The Captain was already at the rail, watching. Silent. Still and close. Very close.

  The necklace around his neck caught Kael's gaze. A blue sapphire, shaped like an eye, hung from the Captain's neck. Silver prongs held it, like fingers of something that shouldn’t have hands.

  The gem pulsed softly. Once. Then again. Not with light but with rhythm. Like a heartbeat.

  The light in the Captain’s sockets flickered. It dimmed for a moment, as if recalling something distant once again. When it returned, it held no mockery. Just… interest.

  Kael looked at him. “You always watch this closely?"

  The Captain’s grin was slow to return. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “I keep an eye on… possibilities.”

  He tapped the sapphire eye gently with one bony finger.

  “One day,” the skeleton man whispered, “you’ll know why.”

  That was all he said.

  Kael turned back to the sea.

  And then he jumped.

  The sky vanished. The wind died. The ship, the voices, the seekers—all gone.

  Only the sea remained.

  And it welcomed him like it had been waiting.