The days that followed passed quietly, though not without change.
Elias had spent most of them in Maelen's house, slowly learning the rhythms of a place that had never expected someone like him. The burns had faded under her care, soothed not with medicine, but with water guided by steady hands and quiet focus. He had asked her once how it worked, and she had only said, "The water knows what it came from. I just help it remember."
He hadn't asked again.
Kaelen had been around often, sometimes to bring food, sometimes just to sit in the corner while Maelen worked. She didn't ask him too many questions outright, but he could feel them under the surface every time she looked at him. He'd done his best to answer the ones she did ask—where he came from, what things were like there, why he didn't know the rules of this place.
She never pressed too hard, and he appreciated that more than he could say.
By the third morning, he could move without pain. Maelen said the worst of it was over and that if he wanted to walk the village, no one would stop him. It wasn't a big place—a few homes, a dock, and a stretch of shoreline bordered by trees that bent in the wind like they were listening.
He made his way to the docks just before midday, the sun hanging high and filtered through mist rolling in from the water. A small boat sat tied to the far end of the pier. An older man—broad-shouldered, with sun-dark skin and a quiet focus—was loading baskets of dried fish and a few sealed crates into the back.
Elias stood a few paces away, watching. The boat looked sturdy—hand-built, like everything else here—but clearly meant for longer travel. He waited for the man to notice him.
"You need something?" the man asked, not unkindly.
"I heard you're heading to the mainland," Elias said.
The man gave a slow nod. "I am. Trade run. Supplies in, word out. I leave with the tide."
"I'd like to go with you. Just passage."
The man looked him over once, then nodded again. "Don't get seasick."
That was it. Agreement made. No questions about who he was or where he'd come from. Just space on a boat and a man who didn't care where he ended up.
Elias stepped back to the edge of the pier and looked out across the water. The mainland was somewhere out there—unseen, unknown.
Footsteps approached from behind.
"You asked to go with him?" Kaelen asked, stepping up beside him.
"I did."
She folded her arms. "That's fast."
"I've stayed longer than I planned," he said. "It's time."
Kaelen was quiet for a beat. Then: "Can I come with you?"
He turned, surprised—not because she asked, but because of how easily she said it.
"Why?"
"I don't want to stay here either," she said. "Not forever."
He didn't answer right away. He just nodded once, and this time it was her turn to look out over the water.
They didn't speak much on the walk back.
The village looked the same as ever—low houses, worn paths, the faint hush of waves beyond the trees. But everything felt heavier now. More final.
When they stepped inside Maelen's house, the old woman was seated at the table, cutting dried root into strips. She glanced up as they entered but didn't stop her work.
Kaelen stood just inside the door.
"I'm going with him," she said.
Maelen didn't look surprised. She laid the knife down beside the board.
"For how long?"
"I don't know," Kaelen answered. "But I want to go."
There was a pause. The quiet held.
Then Maelen stood, walked to a low shelf, and pulled out a folded cloth bundle. She handed it to Kaelen without ceremony.
"Food. And a clean wrap for your blade."
Kaelen took it carefully. "Thank you."
"You're not asking. You're going. I understand."
Her tone wasn't warm—but it wasn't cold either. Just lived-in. Honest.
Kaelen packed quickly. There wasn't much to take.
A small knife, already worn at the handle. A spare shirt and set of wraps. A coil of thin rope, a waterskin, and the cloth Maelen had given her. Everything she needed fit into a worn canvas satchel that had once belonged to her mother.
She moved with purpose, but her eyes lingered on things. The corner of the room where she used to sit with books. The dent in the wall from when she dropped a pot as a kid and tried to patch it with mud. The spot on the windowsill where Maelen always left a sprig of something fresh, no matter the season.
Elias waited outside. He knew better than to hover.
When she stepped into the main room, Maelen was there, standing by the door. She didn't say anything right away. Just looked at her.
Kaelen looked back.
"I'm not going because I want to leave you," she said.
"I know," Maelen replied.
There was a silence that stretched, but didn't feel heavy.
Then Maelen stepped forward and wrapped both arms around her granddaughter.
"I love you, Kaelen. Always have. Always will."
Kaelen held on tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of herbs and old seawood.
Maelen pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.
"Try to come back before Father Time finally hauls me off," she said. "I'd rather not find out what the afterlife thinks of stubborn old women."
Kaelen smiled, just a little.
"I'll try."
Maelen gave a small nod. "Go on, then."
Kaelen stepped outside. Elias was waiting by the path.
She didn't look back.
They walked in silence.
The path to the docks wasn't long, but it felt slower than usual. The village behind them was still, the air heavy with the kind of quiet that followed goodbyes.
Elias walked a step behind at first, then beside her. He wanted to say something. Anything. But nothing came.
He'd never left home like that. Never had someone to leave behind.
His parents had drifted long before he did. His siblings sent occasional texts out of guilt more than love. Saying goodbye had never been hard. It had barely been required.
But Kaelen… she had something to walk away from. And that made him feel like a stranger again.
She didn't cry. Didn't stumble. Just kept walking.
After a few minutes, she finally said, "You don't have to say anything."
Elias looked over at her.
"I mean," she added, "I can tell you want to. But it's fine."
"I just… didn't want to pretend I understood."
Kaelen gave a small nod. "You don't. And that's okay."
Another few steps passed in silence before she smirked slightly.
"Not used to walking in silence, huh?"
"Used to walking alone," he said.
That answer seemed to settle something between them.
They reached the end of the trail, where the sand met the weathered boards of the dock. The boat was already waiting, low in the tide.
The water shifted beneath it, steady and endless. Ahead of them, nothing familiar—but for the first time, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
The dock creaked under their feet as they approached.
The boat wasn't large—just enough room for three people, a few crates, and whatever the sea decided not to throw back. It was tied off at the end of the pier, gently rocking with the tide.
A man stood near the stern, coiling a rope with one hand and waving with the other.
"About time," he called out. "Any later and the tide would've left without us—and she's not the patient type."
He looked to be in his late forties, with sun-darkened skin, a wide grin, and hair tied back with a strip of faded red cloth. He wore a heavy outer coat despite the mild weather and had a dagger at his belt that looked more like it was for show than use.
"Better give him the full introduction, Rauel. He hasn't had the pleasure yet." Kaelen called out.
"Captain Rauel," he said with a mock bow. "Master of tides, wrangler of crates, teller of awful jokes. And today, your one-way ticket to anywhere but here."
Kaelen stepped aboard without hesitation. Elias followed more slowly, eyeing the boat as if it might have a hidden test he hadn't been warned about.
Rauel clapped him on the back the moment both feet hit the deck.
"Welcome aboard, mystery man," he said. "Hope you like salt, splash, and conversation that wanders."
Elias blinked. "I—"
"Great," Rauel cut in. "Now sit down before you fall over when we launch. She's a temperamental lady, this one."
He moved toward the stern, untying the rope and tossing it aboard. "Next stop: somewhere that probably isn't trying to kill you."
Kaelen smirked as she sat. Elias stayed standing a second longer than he needed to, then sat beside her, glancing back once toward the village.
The boat pushed off.
The dock slid away behind them.
And the sea opened up ahead.
The first stretch of water was smooth. Barely any wind, just the quiet push of the current and the faint creak of wood under shifting weight. The boat moved steady and sure, the sun riding high in a clean sky for once.
Rauel hummed at the rudder, occasionally tossing out half-sentences no one asked for.
"Water's calm today," he said at one point, glancing upward. "Too calm. Either the sea's in a good mood or she's winding up to slap us later."
Kaelen rolled her eyes and sat near the bow. Elias stayed beside her, one hand resting on the edge of the hull. It was the first time he'd been this far from shore in his life—not just this world, but any world.
The quiet settled in comfortably.
For a while.
Rauel stopped humming.
He looked up. Then out toward the horizon. His face shifted—not alarmed, but alert.
"Wind's changed."
Elias glanced over. "How bad?"
Rauel didn't answer at first. He adjusted the sail, tested the tension on the ropes, and sniffed the air like it might whisper the answer.
"Could be nothing," he muttered. "Could be trouble."
Kaelen stood and looked in the same direction. The clouds out there weren't dark yet—but they were gathering. Wide. Slow. Building where there had been nothing just an hour before.
"We should adjust course," Rauel said. "Southwest. Hug the calmer run."
Kaelen checked the sail without a word. Elias stayed quiet.
For the next hour, the mood shifted. The sun faded behind the growing cloudbank, and the wind picked up—shifting from a breeze to something with teeth. The boat rocked harder. The water beneath them began to roll in long, slow waves that pushed at the hull with more force than before.
Rain came next. Light at first. Then steady. Not blinding, but cold and sharp.
Rauel's hands moved faster now. Adjusting rope, trimming sail, steering with precision born from too many storms like this.
Then the first real swell hit. And everything changed.
Kaelen checked the sail without a word. Elias stayed quiet.
The sky darkened slowly at first, like dusk arriving too early. Then faster—like something pulling the light down behind it.
The waves began to stagger, no longer coming in clean intervals. The rhythm broke. The boat pitched harder, side to side, and the wind howled in fits that stole the air from their lungs.
Rauel braced himself against the rudder, squinting into the spray. "We're not slipping past it. Hold tight."
The next wave didn't crash—it rose. A slow, towering swell that lifted the entire boat and tilted it like a toy. Kaelen grabbed the edge with both hands, knees bent for balance. Elias went down hard on one knee, catching himself before he slid.
The rain turned to sheets. No direction, no rhythm—just force.
"Can you steady her?" Kaelen shouted over the wind.
"I'm trying," Rauel snapped. "But she's not listening."
Lightning flashed—brief and blinding. Thunder followed too fast behind it. The world shook. Elias blinked water from his eyes and looked past the bow.
They weren't heading toward land anymore. The sea was taking them where it wanted.
The boat dropped suddenly, slamming into the trough of a wave and jarring every plank in its hull. Something cracked—not loud, but deep.
Rauel cursed and shifted his weight. "We lose that rudder, we're done."
Another wave hit. Harder. Sharper. The boat twisted with it, and Kaelen was thrown sideways, catching herself with one hand on the rigging.
Elias dragged himself upright again, knuckles white around the railing.
He didn't need experience to understand the look in Rauel's eyes. He didn't need to know the ocean to feel it building under them like a fist.
This boat wouldn't hold.
Not much longer.
Another wave crashed against them broadside. Elias hit the deck hard, skidding before he caught a handhold. Kaelen shouted something, but the wind shredded the words. Rauel didn't speak—he was too busy wrestling the rudder with both hands, teeth gritted, boots braced wide against the tilt of the deck.
Lightning flashed again—closer this time—and in the brief, burning light, Elias saw it.
The mainland.
Dark hills just visible through the mist, rising out of the sea. The water beyond the stormline looked calmer. Not still, but steady. Reachable.
Almost.
The boat twisted again—hard.
A loud crack rang through the hull.
Rauel cursed. "Rudder's gone!"
The wheel spun uselessly. The stern kicked wide. The boat tilted hard and caught another wave sideways.
They weren't steering anymore.
They were just drifting—faster now, and not in the right direction.
Kaelen was on her knees, soaked and gripping the railing, hair plastered to her face. Her jaw was clenched tight—not in fear, but in stubborn, determined refusal to break.
Elias looked at her and felt something shift in his chest. She'd left everything she knew behind just to chase a different life. One she hadn't even begun yet.
She couldn't die here.
Not like this. Not for following him.
He looked toward the mainland again. So close. So far.
The boat spun into the heart of the storm.