The next morning I woke before the sun had fully risen, the horizon still painted in muted shades of blue and gold. The air carried that early-sea chill that always lingered before the day properly began, and for a brief moment I allowed myself to stand at the window and breathe it in. There was a sense of movement building beneath the surface of everything, as if the island itself understood that something was about to change.
When I went downstairs, expecting to slip out quietly, I found Lio already waiting near the door with his arms crossed and an expression that clearly said he had no intention of being left behind again.
"You're not going without me," he declared before I could even greet him.
"I wasn't planning to," I replied, though I had in fact considered it.
Together we walked toward Bren's house, the island just beginning to stir with fishermen hauling nets and bakers opening shutters. Bren joined us moments later, still adjusting his collar as though he had rushed to meet us.
"Where are we headed this early?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.
"Faresh," I said simply.
That was enough explanation.
Old Faresh's workshop stood near the eastern docks, a wide timber structure constantly echoing with the sound of hammering, sawing, and the scraping of hull repairs. When we arrived, he was bent over the side of a small fishing boat, carefully sanding down a section of reinforced wood.
"Old Faresh, good morning," I called out. "How's the wound on your arm?"
He looked up at us, wiping his hands on a cloth before raising his arm slightly.
"Ah, Kael and Bren," he replied, his voice deep and steady. "The wound's closed now. After taking the medicine you gave me, the infection cleared just as you said it would. I had our healer cast a basic healing spell afterward, and it sealed right up."
He flexed his arm for emphasis.
"Good," I said with a nod.
"Hey, old man," Lio interjected indignantly, stepping forward. "I'm here too. Why don't you greet me?"
Faresh snorted.
"Little devil, they actually help people while you cause chaos. Why would I greet you? And don't even think about trying to sneak onto another departing ship like you did with Marcel last year."
Lio's face turned red instantly.
"You—!"
Bren burst into laughter at his side.
"Alright, enough," I said, raising a hand. "You two sound like children arguing over fish bones. I feel like Mum hearing this all day."
Faresh chuckled and leaned back against the boat hull.
"So, what brings you here at sunrise?"
I met his gaze directly.
"I'm setting sail soon, and I need a ship."
The workshop seemed to grow quieter, even though the background noises continued as usual.
"What?" Faresh straightened fully. "Are you serious? Does Seris know about this?"
"Yes," I answered calmly. "I'm only planning a short voyage to nearby islands, no more than a week. I got her permission before coming here. I just need the vessel and a small crew."
Faresh studied me for several long seconds, his experienced eyes weighing not just my words but the conviction behind them.
"Alright," he finally said. "I have a ten-man ship currently unused. It needs some modifications and minor repairs, but nothing too extensive. I'll confirm with Seris myself before starting the work, but if she approves, I can have it ready within a month."
Relief spread through my chest, though I kept my expression steady.
"If you're looking for someone who understands ship handling," he continued, "you should find my granddaughter. She's sixteen now and has been itching to leave this island for a proper voyage. She knows the basics of navigation, sail control, and maintenance. For a short journey, she'll be more than capable."
Marina.
The name alone stirred a wave of memories.
She was two years older than Bren and me, and when we were younger she had often taken us around the island, pointing out hidden coves and explaining how different hull shapes affected speed and stability. Even back then, her knowledge of shipbuilding rivaled men twice her age, and now she was likely even more skilled.
Lio leaned closer to me and whispered, "Does that mean she's coming too?"
"If she agrees," I replied.
Faresh crossed his arms.
"If you're serious about this, then speak to her today. If she's part of the crew, I'll make sure the ship is prepared accordingly. But understand something, Kael—once you step beyond the illusion perimeter, the sea won't treat you like Seris's son."
"I know," I answered quietly.
And I did.
Faresh gave a slow nod.
"Good. Then let's see whether you're ready to earn the sea's respect."
With that settled, we left Faresh's workshop and headed toward Priya's tavern, which stood near the central dock and was known as the gathering place for sailors, traders, and anyone with salt permanently embedded in their skin. It was also, conveniently, where Marina worked during the evenings, serving drinks and occasionally throwing unruly customers out when they forgot their manners.
For our purposes, it was perfect. If we were going to assemble even a small temporary crew, this was where we would find capable hands willing to sail for a week's adventure.
As we pushed open the tavern door, the first thing that greeted us was not music or laughter, but the sharp scrape of wood against wood and the sound of someone yelping in pain.
My eyes immediately locked onto the source of the commotion.
Marina stood beside one of the central tables, her posture balanced and steady, one hand gripping a man's wrist and twisting it firmly behind his back while pinning him face-first against the table. The man's free hand slapped uselessly against the surface as he tried to regain some dignity.
"I have already told you," Marina said evenly, though the pressure in her grip increased slightly, "that I am only interested in sailing and shipbuilding. If you ask me again, I will demonstrate how easily an arm can dislocate."
She twisted a little harder for emphasis, and the man winced visibly.
"That's Marina," Bren muttered beside me, half impressed and half amused.
"Hey, Marina," I called out, stepping forward to interrupt before the situation escalated further.
She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of my voice, and recognition softened her expression just slightly.
"Kael?" she said, releasing the man's arm at last. He stumbled back, clutching his shoulder while trying to look as though he had not just been thoroughly handled. "What are you doing here? You're not old enough to drink yet."
I rolled my eyes, stepping closer.
"Stop teasing me already, Marina. I only tried that once because this dunderhead suggested it," I replied, casually smacking Bren on the back of the head.
Bren rubbed his skull indignantly. "It was a strategic life experience."
Marina crossed her arms, clearly amused despite herself.
"If that is the case, I should be charging him for bad advice."
"We are not here for drinks," I continued, shifting to a more serious tone. "We came to talk to you. Is there somewhere we can speak privately?"
She studied me for a moment, her gaze sharp and assessing in the same way her grandfather's had been earlier. Whatever she saw in my expression must have convinced her that this was not some childish whim.
"Alright," she said finally. "Follow me."
Before turning away, she looked back at the man she had subdued moments earlier and pointed a finger at him.
"Behave," she said firmly.
The poor fellow nodded quickly and retreated toward a different table, looking at us suspiciously.
Marina led us toward the back of the tavern, through a narrow hallway and into a small storage room that doubled as a quiet meeting space when needed. The noise of the tavern faded slightly once the door closed behind us, leaving only the distant murmur of conversation.
She leaned against a crate and folded her arms.
"So," she said, eyes moving between the three of us, "what exactly are you plotting this time?"
Bren looked at me, clearly expecting me to take the lead.
I stepped forward, meeting Marina's gaze steadily.
"I'm setting sail," I said. "And I want you on the crew."