Esau couldn’t stop showing off.

  He snapped his fingers — once, twice, thrice. The flames that flickered at his fingertips grew with each motion.

  Albeit, they could grow no larger than the size of his thumb, and they lacked that characteristic scarlet glow. But it was still fire, flames, real hot plasma. And that was all that mattered to Esau.

  The charbox sat abandoned on the deck as Esau did his best to distract the crew from their previous mission with his righteous antics. That was, until Kane noticed something.

  “Didn’t you have rings on those fingers?”

  Esau froze, halting the harmless, hand-sized fire tornado he’d created by whipping about his index. In any other circumstance, his new expression would have been the funniest thing Kane had ever seen. But the fear in the man’s eyes killed the humor.

  He lifted both hands in front of his face to examine them. Kane tallied up the rings on his fingers. It was worse than he’d thought.

  Not only had all of the thinner assorted rings on the upper halves of Esau’s fingers disappeared, leaving only faint rings of ash in their places, but the rings on his left pinky and ring fingers had totally disappeared, too.

  Esau took a moment to process this, his face contorting as Kane watched him pass through all five stages of grief.

  The chef shook his head, whisper-counting the remaining rings again. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight… He trailed off, his feet — in socks and boots as of the night before, rather than plain and barefoot — scuffing about as he speedwalked across the stern, scanning every inch of the deck, desperately searching.

  His panic grew into frustration, then shifted into anger, and he turned his wrath towards Kane, irises flashing amber, biting words forming in his throat, before realizing that made no sense at all; Esau’s choice to save Kane had been his and his alone.

  With a resigned sigh, he reached for the ring on his right thumb, and made a movement as if he was going to slide it off, but then stopped himself short as he came to the conclusion Kane had already come to: if Esau had worn the rings as long as he’d implied, then none of them were simply going to slip off.

  Seemingly giving up, Esau wrapped his pinky and ring finger in a tight grip, stepping away from the group, up to the ship’s railing, and facing out towards the Sea.

  Kane approached quietly, placing an hand on Esau’s shoulder. He pulled him in close. “Thank you,” he said, just quiet enough for only Esau to hear, pouring as much genuine gratitude as he could into his tone, “Thank you for saving my life.”

  Esau had indeed saved his life, preventing him from disappearing into a cold, grim singularity that had started from his eye. During the magic transfusion, as all the others had stood around and panicked, Esau had dived in, latching two hands onto Kane’s shoulders and seemingly reawakened his power — including his ability to heal. He’d warded off the effects of the magic like a flame warded frost, allowing Kane to stabilize and keep on living.

  Esau scrunched his lips to the side, nodding, seemingly accepting the gratitude with a grain of salt. “How could I not?” he replied after a moment. “Your life is worth more than just a couple of tacky fucking rings.”

  “That was somehow really reassuring to hear. I had my doubts.”

  “Well-founded ones, at that.” He squeezed Kane’s shoulder back with his massive hand before giving him a gentle push. “Get that damn map to lead us to land, or I’ll find a way to undo the whole saving-you thing.”

  The pair returned to the group, who had been discussing something excitedly, too focused to turn their attention to Esau’s little breakdown.

  Upon their arrival, Lucian shoved the map into Kane’s hand once again. Sure enough, it was just as full as it had appeared before. Lucian had previously stated that he could only see a portion of the map. Now, Kane could see it all, though it was mostly rudimentary — just the general shape of the realm, devoid of useful labeling of any kind.

  Kane doubted the magic within him had surpassed Lucian’s. So why was it that now, he was ostensibly seeing more than the captain had before?

  It might have had something to do with that weird void-eye thing he had going on now. But Kane didn’t even know where to start with that.

  “Looks like we’re right in front of the coast,” Kane remarked, his scarred index finger hovering over the X that represented them. He found it odd that X marked where they were, when it typically marked “the spot,” but perhaps the real treasure was the friends made along the way or whatever.

  He lifted his finger straight ahead, towards the fog on the horizon.

  “If the land’s right in front of us, I’m going to kill myself,” Saul muttered.

  Kane was about to lower his finger, but an odd feeling overtook him. That sixth sense of his spiked, and Kane could feel the magic compelling him to keep his hand raised.

  It was because of the map. The map, being the enchanted item that it was, encouraged him to do this. And so Kane did.

  Esau leaned in, glancing from the map to Kane’s finger. “You good, bud? Your arm stuck? Here, I can give you a ha—”

  “Nope. I’m all good.” Kane stared straight ahead, likely looking like a veritable idiot, but with the sense that he wasn’t one.

  Saul shook his head and placed it in his hands. Tal shoved his fists into his hoodie pocket as he looked up to the sky, while Lucian watched Kane very very carefully, his expression unreadable.

  Kane channeled all the intention that he could into the map. Because that was at the root of it all — intention. That and some logic-defying certainty that the map was completely and unequivocally correct, that the land it indicated was in front of them was indeed right in front of them.

  It took some inner fighting to convince himself of it. The map had led them wrong before, and he’d never actually received proof of it working. But now, he had the insight required to tackle the doubts.

  At first, Kane thought his eyes were deceiving him. But slowly and surely, the fog on the horizon rolled back as they approached, revealing a colossal cliff of jagged stone.

  Saul stopped himself as a disbelieving laughter clawed its way up his throat. “I didn’t mean what I said,” he asserted, but he could hardly finish his sentence before the laughter burst out, causing him to cackle like a hyena.

  They all did, the whoops of the five men some sort of small but mighty cacophony. Saul fell to his knees and howled at the sky. Esau, laughing and bouncing about like a maniac, unleashed small twin columns of flame into the air from his hands. Lucian worked up the strength to chest-bump Tal, who stood up without his walking sticks just for the occasion. Kane himself simply lowered his arm and watched the cliffs in the distance in disbelief, a relieved awe locking him in place.

  “No. Fucking. Way.” Saul clapped a large hand on Kane’s back with far too much force, pulling the man tight in a one-armed hug that was more of a lethal chokehold before releasing, leaving Kane swaying. “Did you do that? Or was it just a really funny coincidence?”

  Kane lowered the map and shook his head emphatically. He knew it was so much deeper than just coincidence. He could literally see the reason the map had worked.

  Because that was what had happened. They hadn’t just finally found the land. But rather, the map had brought it to them.

  The map had finally done its thing, served its damn purpose. Because not only was it meant to lead them in the right direction, but it was explicitly meant to reveal the destination to them, too.

  They would have remained lost in the Sea until the map allowed them to reach their endpoint. It had simply been hiding it from them.

  There was more to it still, some piece Kane was still missing. For some reason the map had only worked for him, and not for Lucian. But Kane’s understanding sufficed for the time being.

  How could he tell all this was the case? It was obvious. The constellation-like patterns that had hung in the air between his fingertip and the map, between the map and the far reaches of land emerging from the fog, a magnetic attraction between them.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “I didn’t really have to raise my hand. But it helped. Confidence plays a part in getting the map to work,” he explained, his own confidence surprising him. “If you don’t think something will be there, it won’t be.”

  Lucian straightened, his gaze sharpening as he walked up to Kane. “Excuse me?”

  Kane pressed his lips together, trying to figure out how to best phrase his discovery. “The land wouldn’t have shown up if I didn’t think it was going to show up. In a way, you follow the map, and the map follows you.”

  The captain crossed his arms, his expression darkening like a growing storm. “Ah. So the land didn’t appear when I handled the map because I doubted myself? Is that it?”

  Kane realized he had misstepped. Again, he knew it was deeper than that, but who was he to tell the captain what was right and wrong?

  He passed the folded-up map to Lucian. “I have no idea.”

  “Cool, great, amazing! So,” Tal cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. He was clearly getting impatient, and was presently eyeing the approaching cliffs like juicy steaks. “What happens next then? What’s the plan?”

  Lucian took on a contemplative expression, shifting his attention to the cliffs as well. On one hand, he seemed just as happy as everyone else that they had finally reached land, after months had passed for some of them. But on the other hand, something deeper was weighing on him.

  He turned to Esau. “Your powers are fully back?”

  Esau stretched his arms behind his head, leaning back as if to bask in the warmth he’d now tapped into. “Not quite. It’s a lot weaker than I remember it ever being, but I can feel the heat building.” Indeed, he’d taken off his borrowed tunic silently before they’d attempted the magic transfusion, seemingly comfortable enough to rock just the tank top again. Perhaps the man could use a class or two in the timely communication of crucial information.

  Lucian then turned to Tal and Saul. “What about you two?”

  Tal attempted a simple gravity yank on Esau, who always seemed to be an easy target, but to no avail. Esau didn’t even notice.

  Saul gripped the handle of his scimitar, testing its weight before hoisting it up in the air with one hand. It wasn’t long before it inevitably came crashing down behind him, splitting the deck unceremoniously. Saul, from his new position — collapsed on the deck, that is — shook his head grimly.

  Kane shrugged, outwardly dismissive but inwardly pitiful at their frankly pathetic displays. “Do you think it’s because Esau latched onto me during the transfusion? Some of the magic might have been diverted towards him.”

  Lucian dismissed the notion with a wave of a hand. “No. That isn’t it. This kind of magic isn’t what fuels your powers.”

  Kane squinted at the captain. Why had he said it with such certainty?

  “And besides, you saw him before. He stopped shivering before we’d even started the transfusion. Esau, how much torrafin did you eat?”

  Esau blinked as he attempted to recall, but once again, his memory failed him. So Kane chimed in, relaying the required information. “He had a sip of curry and… two nuggets, maybe.” He frowned, coming to the realization. “Damn. It wasn’t even a lot, and his powers still disappeared completely.”

  Tal’s brow furrowed, the sourness in expression indicating he may have already figured it all out and come to an unfortunate conclusion. “And you gave him the antidote first. So he had a tiny amount of torrafin in his system, and it wasn’t even active for that long.”

  It made perfect sense. When Esau had tasted the torrafin while cooking, he’d felt its effects on a small scale, with the minor chills as indicated by the persistent rubbing at his arms. And after a spoonful of curry and a couple of nuggets, his powers had been drained completely. Torrafin was extremely potent, it seemed.

  Lucian paced back and forth on the deck, his boots firm despite the fact that he seemed to sway a bit, likely still a bit lightheaded. “Tal, how much did you eat?”

  “Most of the curry. A bit of the jerky.” Tal looked sick as he replied.

  Lucian pointed to Saul. “Most of the kebabs,” the swordsman admitted, his self-disappointment evident.

  The captain stopped pacing, doing some sort of mental math. “Tal was hit by the poison first. Then Saul, then Esau. But it was all so close in time, I can hardly deduce when exactly your abilities will come back. If—”

  “Will?” Tal asked, pressing a stick into the deck to help himself stand up. “You sound so certain.”

  Lucian drew up to full height. “Should I not be?”

  At this, Tal made a peculiar expression. His eyes darted between the rest of the crew — who were all watching the exchange — and then he jutted his chin out to Lucian. “Come on. Don’t do this to me.”

  Lucian seemed to catch on to something. He grinned slyly. “Do what?”

  “Lucian…”

  The captain ignored him, pulling out his pocket watch for the second time today — a record low, it seemed. He studied it intensely, then looked up to the others, his eyes glinting with a brand new wild streak.

  Meanwhile, Tal’s grasp on his walking stick tightened, as if he were going to snap it. If he still had his powers, he would have definitely flung Lucian into the stratosphere.

  “Excuse us one moment,” Lucian pleaded, grabbing Tal by the scruff of his neck and pulling him aside.

  They began to speak about who knows what in hushed tones — and perhaps another language? Lucian was talking too excitedly to keep quiet, and Tal seemed to urge him to quiet down. Kane looked to Saul for answers.

  “They have their own language. Well, not ‘their own language.’ But I couldn’t tell you what it is.” His arms were crossed, and he tapped his fingers on his upper arm as he observed.

  Kane tilted his head. “Sounds like Dutch, nah?”

  “Maybe it is. But either way, that’s how you know they do not want us privy to whatever it is they’re discussing.”

  Awesome. More secrets, because that’s always the right way to go about things when survival is the priority. Kane felt vexation churn in his stomach.

  Or maybe it was just hunger.

  After a few moments, Tal took on an apathetic expression, eyes glazing over, and he looked like he really just wanted an out as Lucian continued to rave on about whatever. Eventually, Lucian got the hint that Tal truly was no longer listening, and they returned from their impromptu huddle.

  Tal took a seat as Lucian retrieved his tricorne from a barrel, then placed it on his head of curly hair, pushing aside the bit that had been matted to his forehead by sweat from the transfusion.

  “We’re going to stop by those cliffs over there,” the captain declared, pointing a finger in their direction as Kane had done earlier, “and if we can’t find a way up, we’ll find a way around to a lower spot. I’m thinking some of us explore what the land is like over there, see if there’s any food despite what any treasonous galley chest wants us to believe. The rest of us will stay put on the Marauder.” After a moment of deliberation, he pointed to Kane, to Esau, and then to himself. “Us three. We’ll go explore. Tal, Saul, you two stay on the ship.”

  Tal nodded sullenly, placing his hands on his knees and exhaling. Saul seemed pissed off, too, looking like he wanted to retort, but he held himself back.

  Esau sidled into view in front of Saul, hands folded behind his back. “We won’t be long, I’m sure,” he said, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. He was clearly excited about getting to set foot on dry land again.

  Lucian directed his next words at Tal in particular. “Two hours max. If we’re not back in two hours, then…” he trailed off, seemingly unsure of what he was going to say next.

  “Then you’re dead,” Saul finished for him, gripping the handle of his grounded scimitar.

  Kane wasn’t sure how he felt about Lucian’s plan. He hadn’t quite gotten seasick yet, and would gladly give up the opportunity to step on land first to Saul or Tal. But he knew Lucian was being extra deliberate about his decision. Notably, he, Kane and Esau were the only crew members with abilities to speak of.

  “Right. We’d be dead. But hey, I’m simply not going to let that happen.” Lucian clapped his hands. “It’s settled. Saul, come with me. Working the rigging of this ship’s a bitch for us regular, non-super-powered folk, and I need to show you how to do it properly now that Tal can no longer handle it with his gravity.”

  Saul didn’t put up a fight. The pair walked off toward the middle of the deck, underneath the ship’s massive sails. Meanwhile, Esau crouched down and retrieved the tinderbox, placing it in Kane’s hand.

  “You have no idea how good this feels,” Esau relayed with a heartfelt smile, and Kane could deduce the many layers to the sentence in an instant.

  How good it felt to finally reach land, after months of being stranded at sea.

  How good it felt to have saved his friend’s life, and to finally get even in a way.

  How good it felt to have his powers back, after shivering throughout the night.

  Kane understood completely, especially that last one. He could literally see the difference in Esau when he closed his good eye.

  Because when he did so, his vision was isolated to the eye that had been replaced by the singularity. In it, everything became haloed in a strange tint of purple, and Kane could literally see the energy in the air and within them, in the form of those tiny constellations.

  The energy within Esau was more dispersed throughout him, star-like particles that spread out like gas in a container, sparse but not empty.

  He looked at Tal, who already seemed to be lost in his thoughts, having thrown his hood over his eyes as he laid back on a second barrel. The man contained nearly none of the special particles at all.

  He looked at Lucian and Saul as they made their way toward the main mast. Saul, much like Tal, didn’t have much of the energy inside him to speak of. But Lucian, however, had a whole different phenomenon going on.

  He had just as much, if not more, of the energy within him as Esau did. Although, it all seemed to vibrate as if under pressure, and not only that, but if Kane focused closely, he could see there was another type of energy within him as well. This second form was less vibrant, and yet mostly distinct from the previous one; where the previous particles had been stars in a night sky, these ones were more like tiny gems that reflected light rather than creating it. This energy in Lucian was in a much lesser quantity.

  All around them, in the very air they breathed, there was a tiny gem-like particle of energy interspersed here and there, like dust particles in light. It was everywhere, inescapable.

  The oddest part was when Kane finally looked down to himself.

  He was chock-full of this gem-like particle, twinkling when it seemed to catch the right angles of the light. His level of star-like energy, however, was a happy medium between that of Esau’s and Saul’s — nothing to write home about.

  Kane wasn’t at the point where he could really ascribe meaning to all this yet. All he knew was that these energies were not just an illusion and, in fact, rather vital. It was what was holding them together down here.

  It didn’t quite add up yet. Things rarely did in Limbo, it seemed.

  But Kane intended to make it add up.

  One way or another.