When I sailed out to sea, it was a fine day. The sun warmed my skin, and the air felt lighter — as if it was gently lifting me away from the life I had known and toward the one I craved. I let my hair fall loose in the wind and imagined myself a princess setting out on her own grand adventure.
A pang struck my chest. I thought of Tails.She would have loved it out here.I had to believe that one day, she'd be able to leave Father's house too.
With a sigh, I tied my hair back into a knot and studied the map. The crossing was supposed to be straightforward. I had set out from the narrowest part of the divide, and if the wind stayed with me, I could make it across in a few days.
As the coastline faded, I felt like I was shedding the skin of the girl I used to be. I wondered who I was becoming.
On the second day, I spent less time basking in the sea breeze and more time studying what lay ahead. The jungle I was headed for was dense, largely unmapped, and full of mysteries. I practiced tying knots until my fingers were raw and tender. I needed to be ready — ready to mark trails, to return safely, to survive.
Still, the sun seemed reluctant to set. My thoughts wandered.
Had Tails gotten to go on those outings I arranged for her?Would I return in time to give her a tooth, like I promised?
A darker thought lingered, one I had pushed away again and again:What if I didn't return at all?
I told myself it was silly. This trip was only supposed to last a month or two — a bit of field research before I started at the university. All I needed to do was gather stories and investigate the origins of the legend... of the wizard Father had forbidden me to even speak of.
I imagined the people I might meet — weathered by sun and wind, dressed in vibrant colors I had only dreamed of. I pictured their stories as treasures I could carry home.
Finally, as the second day gave way to night, I began to write a letter to Tails.
Dear Sister,
The sea is wonderful to sail on… It reminds me of the fairy tales I once read to you—
That's when I felt the first jolt of danger.The boat lurched.I stumbled to my feet, abandoning the pen and paper.
The sky had gone black in every direction.A storm — sudden, violent, and merciless — crashed down upon me.Waves pounded the boat, and I was flung backward into my tiny sleeping cabin.
I clung to whatever I could find.
Saltwater poured through the door. Panic surged.
I might drown.
I scrambled up, searching for the bucket to bail water — and then a violent wave slammed through the hull. My head cracked hard against the floor.
Everything went dark.
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't sure if I was alive.
The air smelled… sweet. Heavy with moisture.I was too tired to move, too dazed to think.
"Miss!"
A voice, distant and echoing.
A face hovered into view — a boy, vaguely dog-like in the way a labrador might be. Big eyes, soft blue, and messy hair the color of rich soil.
I tried to laugh but my mouth felt full of sea.
"Can you hear me, Miss?" the voice said again, but the words made no sense.I reached up to pat his head, convinced I was petting some sort of gentle beach dog.
My hand didn't move.
That was fine. I could pet him later.
Sleep tugged me back under.
When I woke again, it was night.
I was lying on something warm and soft, slightly sandy. There was a dull ache in my head — something heavy bandaged around it. A fire flickered nearby.
"Miss?"
The same boy — the labrador — leaned into view. His sky-blue eyes were round with concern.
"What happened to me?" I croaked.
"I found you washed up on the shore," he said, eyes lighting up with relief at the sound of my voice. "You were half-drowned! What were you doing sailing in that storm?"
"I didn't..." I tried to speak, but the words were thick in my mouth.
"Don't move. You've got a nasty gash on your head," he said, turning back to tend the fire.
"My boat?" I asked weakly.
His face fell, those droopy eyes drooping even more. "Smashed up, I'm afraid," he said gently.
He knelt beside me and lifted a wooden cup. "Drink this," he said. "It'll help with the pain."
I opened my mouth slightly and took a sip — then coughed violently.
"It can be a bit tart," he said, frowning. "But it'll help."
I forced the rest down. The heat and bitterness worked their way through my limbs, easing the pounding in my head. The boy looked positively delighted that I had managed it.
"Are you… from here?" he asked curiously. "I've never seen you in these parts before."
"No," I groaned. "I'm—"
I tried to say my name, but it came out jumbled. "Vie."
He tilted his head like a puppy hearing a strange noise. Then he smiled brightly.
"Vie, huh? Pleased to meet you. I'm Cassian Hansen — but you can call me Cassi."