Rowan had a good feeling about today.
The sun was shining.
The birds were singing.
The Never Ending Lark shimmered beneath a beautiful blue sky.
And, most importantly, they were finally going sailing.
“Today’s the day!” Rowan announced.
Bjorn glanced at him.
“The day for what?”
Rowan grinned.
“Our first voyage across the Lark!”
Bjorn nodded.
“Right.”
Lyra walked beside them, studying the faded Depthcaller chart they’d won from Mirella the Dicewitch.
“Aye. Provided our dear captain keeps his word.”
Rowan looked at her.
“You still don’t trust Vespern?”
Lyra folded the parchment.
“Not as far as I could throw him.”
Bjorn grinned.
“I could throw him pretty far.”
Lyra sighed.
“That ain’t the point.”
Harvey chirped from Bjorn’s shoulder.
Rowan laughed.
“Come on! He’s giving us a ship!”
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
“Passage aboard a ship, lad. Not the ship itself.”
“Oh.”
Bjorn chuckled.
“Yeah, don’t go stealing the captain’s ship.”
Rowan blinked.
“I wasn’t going to!”
“Good.”
Bjorn paused.
“Because if we were stealing it, we’d need a better plan.”
Lyra stopped walking.
She slowly turned.
“Bjorn.”
“What?”
“Please don’t give him ideas.”
Rowan grinned.
“No promises!”
Lyra shook her head.
“By the tides…”
They continued toward the eastern docks of Larkshore, where the magnificent Crimson Tide waited beneath the morning sun.
Its towering red sails fluttered in the breeze.
Sailors hurried across the deck, hauling ropes and securing barrels.
The carved sea serpent at its bow seemed almost alive as sunlight danced across its polished wooden scales.
Rowan stared.
“Whoa…”
Bjorn grinned.
“Still a nice ship.”
Lyra studied the rigging.
“Aye.”
Then she frowned.
Rowan noticed.
“What?”
“She’s ready to sail.”
Bjorn shrugged.
“Isn’t that the point?”
Lyra nodded toward the deck.
“Look at the cargo. The water barrels. The spare canvas. They’ve prepared for a long voyage.”
Rowan smiled.
“Great!”
Lyra didn’t smile back.
“Aye,” she murmured. “A little too great.”
Before Rowan could ask what she meant, a familiar voice called from above.
“Ah! My adventurous friends!”
Captain Vespern stood at the top of the gangplank.
His crimson coat gleamed beneath the sunlight, and his polished boots rested confidently against the wooden deck.
He spread his arms.
“Welcome aboard!”
Rowan waved.
“Captain!”
Vespern smiled.
“I trust you’re ready for an extraordinary journey.”
Rowan grinned.
“Absolutely!”
Bjorn nodded.
“Yep.”
Lyra folded her arms.
“Depends where we’re goin’.”
Vespern chuckled.
“Straight to business. I admire that.”
He gestured toward the gangplank.
“Come. We have much to discuss.”
The Crimson Tide was even busier than before.
Sailors hurried between the masts, carrying crates, rolling barrels, and shouting instructions to one another.
A pair of men struggled to lift an enormous wooden chest.
“HEAVE!”
“HO!”
“HEAVE!”
The chest slipped.
THUD!
Both sailors stumbled backward.
Rowan winced.
“Ouch.”
Bjorn grinned.
“Need a hand?”
The sailors looked up.
One nodded eagerly.
“Please!”
Bjorn stepped forward.
He grabbed the chest.
Lifted it.
And carried it across the deck.
The sailors stared.
Rowan laughed.
“Nice!”
Bjorn set the chest down beside a stack of barrels.
THUNK!
He dusted off his hands.
“Easy.”
From the upper deck, Garrick watched with folded arms.
The first mate’s scarred face remained expressionless.
Then he smirked.
“Still swinging mountains around, I see.”
Bjorn looked up.
His grin vanished.
“Oh, it’s you.”
Garrick descended the stairs.
“Morning, little warrior.”
Bjorn’s eye twitched.
“Don’t call me that.”
Garrick smiled.
“Little Thunder, then?”
Rowan covered his mouth.
Lyra turned away.
Bjorn stared.
“…Who told you that?”
Garrick chuckled.
“Larkshore’s a small town.”
Bjorn folded his arms.
“Want another match?”
Garrick rested one hand on his sword.
“Not today.”
“Scared?”
“No.”
“Then why not?”
Garrick nodded toward the deck.
“Because some of us have work to do.”
Bjorn frowned.
Garrick walked past him.
“Try not to break anything.”
Bjorn watched him go.
Then muttered—
“…I’m gonna beat that guy.”
Rowan patted his shoulder.
“Sure you are.”
Bjorn looked at him.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
Rowan smiled.
“I’m very convinced.”
Lyra laughed.
“Aye. Convincin’ as a fish with boots.”
Captain Vespern led them into his cabin.
The room smelled of polished wood, old parchment, and something faintly sweet.
Sunlight streamed through the round windows, illuminating shelves filled with strange artifacts and rolled maps.
The enormous chart of the Never Ending Lark still covered the far wall.
Rowan immediately approached it.
“Whoa…”
Vespern smiled.
“Still admiring my collection?”
Rowan nodded.
“It’s amazing!”
The captain chuckled.
“Years of exploration, my boy.”
Lyra stepped toward the desk.
“Ye said we’d discuss passage.”
“Indeed.”
Vespern moved behind his desk and unrolled a large parchment.
“Now, I understand you’ve been doing a little exploring yourselves.”
Rowan blinked.
“We have?”
Vespern smiled.
“The coral caves, for instance.”
Silence.
Bjorn slowly turned toward Rowan.
Rowan slowly turned toward Lyra.
Lyra’s expression hardened.
“How’d ye hear about that?”
Vespern shrugged.
“Larkshore is a town of sailors. News travels.”
Rowan scratched his head.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Lyra didn’t look convinced.
Vespern continued.
“And I understand you’ve discovered something rather interesting.”
He tapped the map.
“An old chart.”
Rowan’s eyes widened.
“The Depthcaller chart?”
Lyra closed her eyes.
“Rowan…”
He froze.
“…Oops.”
Vespern smiled.
“Ah. So the rumors are true.”
Bjorn crossed his arms.
“What rumors?”
“Stories of an ancient route across the Lark.”
The captain leaned forward.
“One that may lead to a forgotten island.”
Rowan’s excitement returned.
“The Isle of Forgotten Waves!”
Lyra slowly looked at him.
Rowan swallowed.
“…Double oops.”
Vespern laughed.
“Marvelous!”
He spread his hands.
“Then we seek the same destination.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
“Do we?”
“Of course.”
Vespern pointed toward the western waters on his map.
“I have searched for that island for years.”
Rowan leaned closer.
“Really?”
“Indeed. But every chart I’ve acquired has been incomplete.”
His eyes moved toward Lyra’s satchel.
“Until now, perhaps.”
Lyra rested one hand against the bag.
“And what exactly do ye want from us?”
Vespern smiled.
“Cooperation.”
Bjorn frowned.
“Meaning?”
“You share your chart. I provide the ship, crew, and supplies.”
Rowan grinned.
“That sounds fair!”
Lyra looked at him.
“Wind-boy…”
Vespern nodded.
“A mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Lyra studied the captain.
Then slowly smiled.
“Aye. Perhaps.”
She reached into her satchel.
Rowan leaned forward.
But instead of removing the chart, Lyra pulled out a small folded piece of blank parchment.
She placed it on the desk.
Vespern blinked.
“What’s this?”
Lyra smiled sweetly.
“An agreement.”
Bjorn grinned.
Rowan blinked.
“An agreement?”
“Aye.”
Lyra folded her arms.
“Ye want our chart. We want passage. So let’s put it in writin’.”
Vespern’s smile tightened.
“Surely we needn’t trouble ourselves with such formalities.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
“Funny. Most captains I know love a good contract.”
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Then Vespern laughed.
“Very well!”
He reached for a quill.
“Let us discuss terms.”
An hour later, Rowan had learned something else about sailing.
Contracts were boring.
Very boring.
He sat beside Bjorn, staring at the ceiling while Lyra and Vespern discussed provisions, destinations, compensation, and something called salvage rights.
Rowan leaned toward Bjorn.
“What are salvage rights?”
Bjorn shrugged.
“No idea.”
“Then why are they arguing about them?”
“Probably money.”
Rowan nodded.
“Right.”
Harvey chirped softly.
Bjorn scratched his head.
“Yeah, buddy. I’m bored too.”
Across the desk, Lyra tapped the parchment.
“No claim to anything we recover.”
Vespern smiled.
“My dear, surely a captain deserves some reward for his efforts.”
“Aye. Passage fees.”
“And if we discover something of extraordinary value?”
Lyra leaned forward.
“Then it belongs to whoever found it.”
Vespern studied her.
His smile faded slightly.
“An interesting position.”
Lyra smiled.
“A fair one.”
Rowan glanced between them.
He had a feeling this wasn’t going particularly well.
Finally, Vespern leaned back.
“Perhaps we’re approaching this from the wrong direction.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
The captain stood.
“Why don’t we take a short tour belowdecks? I’ve recently acquired several artifacts that may interest you.”
Rowan immediately perked up.
“Artifacts?”
Vespern smiled.
“Ancient ones.”
Bjorn grinned.
“Better than paperwork.”
Lyra hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Aye. Let’s have a look.”
Vespern opened the cabin door.
“After you.”
The lower decks of the Crimson Tide were darker than Rowan expected.
Narrow lanterns hung from wooden beams, casting warm pools of light across the floor.
Barrels lined the walls.
Crates were stacked nearly to the ceiling.
The air smelled of rope, salt, and old timber.
Rowan followed Vespern down a narrow staircase.
“Whoa…”
Bjorn glanced around.
“Lot of supplies.”
Lyra nodded.
“Aye.”
She ran one hand along a nearby barrel.
Then frowned.
Rowan noticed.
“What?”
“Fresh water.”
Bjorn shrugged.
“Good.”
Lyra pointed toward another stack.
“Enough for weeks.”
Rowan blinked.
“So?”
She lowered her voice.
“Captain said he was waitin’ to learn our destination. Yet he’s already stocked for a voyage.”
Rowan hesitated.
“…Maybe he’s prepared?”
Lyra looked at him.
“Aye. Maybe.”
Vespern stopped before a heavy wooden door.
“Here we are.”
He produced a brass key.
CLICK!
The lock opened.
Beyond lay a spacious storage chamber.
Shelves lined the walls, holding strange objects wrapped in cloth.
Old swords.
Broken statues.
Pieces of carved stone.
And several sealed chests.
Rowan’s eyes widened.
“WHOA!”
He hurried inside.
Bjorn followed.
Lyra remained near the doorway.
Vespern smiled.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
Rowan nodded.
“Where did you find all this?”
“Various expeditions.”
The captain approached a shelf.
He lifted a small stone tablet covered in curling symbols.
Rowan leaned closer.
“Those look familiar.”
Vespern smiled.
“Do they?”
Rowan nodded.
“Like the symbols on our chart.”
Lyra stepped forward.
“Let me see that.”
Vespern handed her the tablet.
She studied it.
Her expression changed.
Three curling waves surrounded a hollow circle.
The Depthcaller symbol.
Lyra swallowed.
“Where’d ye get this?”
Vespern smiled.
“An old wreck.”
“Which wreck?”
The captain hesitated.
Then shrugged.
“I’m afraid the name escapes me.”
Lyra looked up.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Funny.”
Vespern tilted his head.
“What is?”
“Ye remember every tale about every treasure ye’ve ever chased.”
She held up the tablet.
“But not where ye found this?”
Silence.
Then—
CLUNK!
The door slammed shut.
Rowan jumped.
“AH!”
Bjorn turned.
“What the—”
A heavy lock clicked into place.
CLICK!
Rowan stared.
“…Uh.”
Lyra slowly closed her eyes.
“By the tides…”
Vespern stood beside the door.
His smile had vanished.
“I’m afraid,” he said quietly, “our negotiations have reached an unfortunate conclusion.”
Rowan blinked.
“Captain?”
Bjorn stepped forward.
“What are you doing?”
Vespern sighed.
“Taking precautions.”
Lyra folded her arms.
“Aye. Thought so.”
Rowan looked between them.
“Wait. What’s happening?”
Vespern glanced toward the ceiling.
“Garrick.”
The first mate stepped from behind a stack of crates.
Three sailors followed him.
All carried thick coils of rope.
Bjorn’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh.”
Garrick smiled.
“Hello, little warrior.”
Bjorn reached for his axe.
“Wrong move.”
But before he could draw it—
WHOOSH!
A weighted net dropped from the ceiling.
“WHOA!”
It landed over Bjorn and Rowan.
THUD!
Both crashed to the floor.
Harvey squawked.
Lyra leapt backward.
“ROWAN!”
She reached for her satchel.
But a sailor grabbed her arm.
Another caught her wrist.
Lyra twisted.
KICK!
One sailor stumbled backward.
She ducked beneath the other’s arm.
Then—
Garrick stepped forward.
His sword flashed.
SHING!
The blade stopped inches from her shoulder.
“Easy.”
Lyra froze.
Garrick smiled.
“Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Bjorn roared.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!”
He struggled beneath the net.
Rowan thrust out his hand.
“WIND!”
FWOOOSH!
A powerful gust swept through the chamber.
Loose parchment flew everywhere.
Barrels rattled.
One sailor stumbled backward.
But the net held.
Rowan frowned.
“What?!”
Vespern smiled faintly.
“Stormwoven rope. Quite resistant to magical interference.”
Bjorn grunted.
“Then I’ll just break it!”
He pulled.
The ropes stretched.
But refused to snap.
Garrick chuckled.
“Good luck.”
Harvey spread his wings.
His feathers flashed blue.
FROOOOSH!
A wave of freezing air swept across the chamber.
Ice spread along the net.
The ropes stiffened.
Rowan’s eyes widened.
“Harvey!”
The Frost Phoenix chirped.
Bjorn grinned.
“Good boy!”
He pulled again.
CRACK!
The frozen ropes snapped.
The net burst apart.
Bjorn surged to his feet.
“NOW!”
He swung his axe.
CLANG!
Garrick blocked the blow.
The two warriors stumbled backward.
Rowan leapt up.
He raised both hands.
“WIND!”
FWOOOOOSH!
A powerful gust sent two sailors flying into a stack of barrels.
CRASH!
Lyra ducked beneath Garrick’s sword and slipped free.
She grabbed her satchel.
Then hurled a small vial.
PFFFT!
A cloud of green smoke erupted.
The sailors coughed.
“WHAT IS THAT?!”
Lyra grinned.
“Pepperroot!”
One sailor sneezed.
Then another.
Then a third.
“AAAAACHOO!”
Bjorn laughed.
“Nice!”
But Garrick wasn’t laughing.
He lunged.
CLANG!
His sword struck Bjorn’s axe.
The two struggled.
Garrick twisted his wrist.
Bjorn remembered their first duel.
Good power. Poor balance.
His eyes narrowed.
Not this time.
He shifted his stance.
Planted his boots.
And pushed.
Garrick stumbled backward.
For the first time, the first mate looked surprised.
Bjorn grinned.
“Getting better, huh?”
Garrick smiled.
“Perhaps.”
Before either could strike again—
“ENOUGH!”
Vespern’s voice thundered through the chamber.
Everyone froze.
The captain stood near the doorway, holding a small brass device.
Its surface shimmered with strange markings.
Rowan frowned.
“What is that?”
Vespern pressed a button.
CLICK!
A deep metallic rumble echoed through the room.
Then—
CLANG!
Heavy iron bars dropped across the doorway.
Another set slammed down behind the shelves.
A third sealed the narrow passage leading toward the stairs.
Rowan stared.
“…That’s not good.”
Vespern smiled.
“An old security mechanism.”
Bjorn stepped forward.
“You planned this.”
Vespern sighed.
“My dear boy, I plan everything.”
Lyra’s eyes narrowed.
“Except what happens next.”
She reached into her satchel.
Vespern’s gaze sharpened.
“Careful.”
Lyra paused.
The captain pointed toward the floor.
A series of narrow metal plates had begun to glow.
Rowan felt something strange.
The air around him seemed heavy.
Still.
He tried summoning a breeze.
Nothing happened.
His eyes widened.
“My wind…”
Vespern smiled.
“An old enchantment. Temporary, of course.”
Bjorn tightened his grip on his axe.
“You think that’ll stop us?”
Vespern shrugged.
“No.”
He glanced toward the ceiling.
“But this might.”
A loud creaking sound echoed overhead.
Rowan looked up.
An enormous cargo net hung above them.
Filled with barrels.
Crates.
And several very heavy-looking anchors.
Rowan swallowed.
“…Oh.”
Vespern smiled.
“Now, shall we return to our discussion?”
Several minutes later, Rowan, Bjorn, and Lyra sat against the wall.
Their wrists were bound with thick rope.
Harvey perched on a nearby barrel, watched closely by two nervous sailors.
Bjorn scowled.
“I hate this ship.”
Rowan nodded.
“Yeah.”
Lyra sighed.
“Told ye.”
Rowan looked at her.
“…You did.”
Bjorn glanced toward Vespern.
The captain stood beside a table, studying the Depthcaller tablet.
Garrick leaned against the wall.
Vespern turned.
“Now. The chart.”
Lyra folded her arms as best she could.
“Don’t have it.”
Vespern smiled.
“Come now.”
“Left it at the inn.”
The captain’s expression tightened.
Rowan blinked.
He looked at Lyra.
Then quickly looked away.
Vespern noticed.
“Interesting.”
He stepped closer.
“Where is the Isle of Forgotten Waves?”
Rowan swallowed.
Bjorn stared at the floor.
Lyra smiled.
“Wouldn’t ye like to know?”
Vespern sighed.
“Must we make this difficult?”
Lyra tilted her head.
“Aye.”
For a moment, the captain simply stared at her.
Then he laughed softly.
“Very well.”
He turned toward Garrick.
“Search their belongings.”
Bjorn surged forward.
“DON’T TOUCH OUR STUFF!”
Garrick raised an eyebrow.
“Sit down.”
Bjorn growled.
Rowan glanced toward Lyra.
She gave the smallest shake of her head.
Wait.
Garrick approached.
He reached for Rowan’s satchel.
Then—
Harvey chirped.
Softly.
Rowan looked up.
The Frost Phoenix’s eyes glowed faintly blue.
Lyra smiled.
Just a little.
Harvey spread his wings.
FROOOOSH!
A blast of freezing air swept across the room.
The ropes binding Rowan’s wrists turned white.
Then brittle.
Rowan’s eyes widened.
He pulled.
CRACK!
The ropes snapped.
Bjorn grinned.
“YES!”
His own bindings shattered.
Lyra twisted her wrists.
CRACK!
Free.
Vespern whirled.
“WHAT?!”
Rowan leapt to his feet.
“WIND!”
The enchantment still pressed against him.
Nothing.
He frowned.
“Right.”
Bjorn raised his axe.
“Then we do this the old-fashioned way!”
He charged.
Garrick drew his sword.
CLANG!
Steel struck steel.
Lyra hurled a vial toward the glowing floor plates.
SPLASH!
Blue liquid spread across the metal.
The markings flickered.
Then—
POP!
The enchantment vanished.
Rowan felt the air rush back around him.
He grinned.
“NOW we’re talking!”
He thrust both hands forward.
“WIND!”
FWOOOOOOOSH!
A tremendous gust exploded through the chamber.
Crates toppled.
Barrels rolled.
Sailors flew backward.
Garrick stumbled.
Bjorn seized the opportunity.
He swung his axe.
CLANG!
Garrick’s sword flew from his hand.
It spun through the air.
Then landed beside a barrel.
THUNK!
Bjorn grinned.
“Ha!”
Garrick stared at his empty hand.
Then at Bjorn.
Then slowly smiled.
“Well played.”
Bjorn laughed.
“Told you I’d get you!”
But Vespern had already reached the door.
He slammed a lever.
CLANG!
The iron bars began to rise.
Rowan’s eyes widened.
“He’s getting away!”
Lyra grabbed his arm.
“Forget him! We need to go!”
Rowan hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Right!”
Harvey swooped overhead.
Bjorn grabbed his axe.
Together, they charged toward the opening.
Vespern stepped aside.
His smile returned.
“Until next time, my friends.”
Rowan stopped.
He turned.
“Next time?”
Vespern tipped his hat.
“Oh, I suspect we’ll meet again.”
Lyra grabbed Rowan’s cloak.
“MOVE!”
They sprinted up the stairs.
Behind them, Vespern’s laughter echoed through the lower deck.
The moment they reached the main deck, Rowan froze.
The Crimson Tide was moving.
The sails billowed overhead.
The harbor had disappeared behind them.
And the endless waters of the Never Ending Lark stretched in every direction.
Rowan’s eyes widened.
“WHOA…”
Bjorn stared.
“We’re already sailing?!”
Lyra rushed toward the railing.
Her expression hardened.
“Aye. And not toward Larkshore.”
Rowan looked around.
“Then where are we going?”
Before Lyra could answer—
BOOOOOM!
A tremendous explosion echoed across the water.
The ship lurched.
Rowan stumbled.
Bjorn grabbed the railing.
Harvey squawked.
Lyra’s eyes widened.
“By the tides…”
Far beyond the bow, the water had begun to rise.
Not in waves.
Not in swells.
But in an enormous, twisting column.
The surface churned.
Dark currents spiraled beneath the ship.
And somewhere below—
Something moved.
Something enormous.
Rowan felt the compass in his pocket begin to tremble.
He pulled it out.
The needle spun wildly.
Then stopped.
Pointing straight down.
Rowan swallowed.
“…Guys?”
Bjorn turned.
“What?”
Rowan stared at the water.
“I think…”
A deep rumble echoed beneath the ship.
The Crimson Tide shuddered.
Lyra gripped the railing.
Her face had gone pale.
Rowan slowly looked up.
“…I think we found something.”
Far below the surface, a colossal shadow passed beneath the Crimson Tide.
And for one terrible moment, the entire sea seemed to hold its breath.