"It’s so boring..." Cassian said, lounging lazily on the masthead. Lumine sat between his legs, her back resting against him, both of them wrapped in a single warm coat to shield against the chilly ocean winds.

With each passing day, the weather grew colder—especially at night, when it was almost bone-chilling. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

And it was only going to get worse. The Magic Empire was known to be even colder than Magisteria during peak winters, so the closer they got to their destination, the harsher it would become.

It had already been a few days since they last saw any land—nothing but an endless stretch of blue abyss, as Cassian liked to call it. It was dull, uneventful... nothing ever seemed to happen.

"Isn’t that for the best?" Lumine asked, closing her book before adding, "You don’t want to get dragged into a fight with pirates... or worse, stuck in a storm..."

Cassian nodded. "Yeah... being bored is definitely better than that..." he said, then smirked as he gently tilted her head slightly toward him. "You know what would be even better..."

Lumine looked at him, a bit confused.

Cassian leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly. "A proper make-out session..."

She broke into a bigger smile as Cassian kissed her. "Yeah, it would..." she said, turning around and settling into his lap, both of them wrapped in the coat again.

While they stayed busy on their own, Wanni and the others were having dinner with Kirja. Cassian had introduced her to them as a friend.

"So your village was destroyed by cultists, right? Cassian told us." Wanni asked, then added, " it must’ve been horrible..."

Kirja nodded, her tone turning serious. "It was... most of the villagers died. I only survived because I fell into a creek near the village," she said, showing a hint of anger. It was a story she and Cassian had made up beforehand—how they knew each other and all that.

Of course, Wanni and the others knew it was a lie—they already knew Kirja was a cultist.

"It carried me to a town outside the jungle, where I met Cassian... so we’ve known each other since then. But seeing him here was a surprise." She paused, then looked at them. "How do you all know him?"

"We just met him here," Wanni said, playing along. "We’re victims of the cult too. Our village turned into a battlefield between them and other forces. With no home left, we came here to earn some money and survive..." she added, lowering her gaze.

Kirja felt a flicker of guilt as she listened to them. She was part of the cult they were talking about. They might be known for their ruthlessness, but they weren’t completely devoid of emotions—remorse and sadness still existed. Still, she stayed quiet, unsure of what to say.

Not wanting to linger on the topic, she shifted the conversation. "What about Cassian? Has he told you where he came from?"

Theon shook his head. "We didn’t ask..."

Kirja nodded, dipping a piece of bread into the meat stew before taking a bite. "Do you guys know anything about the Mariossa Kingdom? That’s where we’re heading, right?"

"I read about it in a book. There’s nothing too special, but there’s a lot of pirate activity nearby. The kingdom itself is pretty safe, though, thanks to its mage army and ships built with magic technology from the Magic Empire..." Wanni replied, which seemed to surprise Kirja a bit, making her smile.

"Even better than Magisterian’s ships?" Kirja asked. Not many people knew this, but Magisteria had one of the most advanced naval forces—it had to, to protect its ports and nearby trade islands from pirates.

"In terms of quality, Magisterian vessels are better. Some are exceptionally great—like the main armada’s capital ships, which are four times larger than this one, basically small cities on their own. But when it comes to numbers, a city can’t match the workforce of an entire kingdom... even if that city has millions," Wanni explained.

Theon picked up from there, "And aren’t most ships in Magisteria built by academies as experiments? There are some really interesting ones..."

Wanni nodded.

Kirja looked a bit surprised. She hadn’t really been around mages much outside of fights within the cult, where they usually looked down on others—especially on tribal warriors like her. She’d never really had a proper conversation with a mage before, at least not like this.

Well... aside from Brigid, who treated her decently.

Kirja didn’t know much about the outside world, and she was actually enjoying learning about it. In the cult, people like her were only expected to fight or die. Only the core members—mostly mages or warriors from ancient cult families—were sent out into the world as spies or to spread terror.

It was rare for someone like Kirja, especially a slave, to end up out here.

"Did you guys stay in Magisteria or study there?" she asked.

"Not really stay—we just visited it often since it was nearby," Theon answered, then added, "Though it’s pretty expensive to own a place there... even renting is costly."

Cassian had already told them to keep their answers short unless more detail was necessary. The more you talked, the easier it was to slip up and reveal something by mistake. So they were careful, especially since they knew Kirja was a cultist.

Kirja kept the conversation going, asking about their pasts, their homes, the kind of lives they had before everything fell apart. Wanni and Theon answered carefully, giving just enough truth to make their stories believable while slipping in small lies where needed. Their words were measured, controlled—never too much, never too little.

Kirja did the same. Her own answers came out smooth, practiced, blending reality with fabrication. Bits of hardship, fragments of survival, shaped into something that sounded real enough to pass. It wasn’t hard—most of it was real, just twisted slightly to fit the story.

The atmosphere around them slowly softened. What started as cautious probing turned into a quieter exchange, less tense, more natural. Not trust—but something closer to understanding.

—

Above, the world felt entirely different.

Cassian and Lumine remained wrapped together beneath the coat, their warmth cutting through the cold that crept in with the ocean wind. The ship swayed gently beneath them, the rhythm of the waves slow and steady. The sea stretched endlessly in every direction, dark and calm, reflecting the pale glow of the moon.

The sky was clear, scattered with stars, the kind of stillness that made time feel slower than it was. Only the faint sound of water brushing against the hull broke the silence.

It felt quiet.

Peaceful.

But far beyond the calm surface, something moved.

At the very edge of the horizon, where the sea blurred into darkness, a shape began to form—small at first, almost easy to miss. It cut through the water without hesitation, its presence growing clearer with every passing moment.

The sails were dark, blending into the night, and the ship advanced with a steady, deliberate pace. No lights, no warning—just a silent approach through the open sea.

And above it, barely visible in the dim light, a flag shifted with the wind.

A dark jolly roger.