Twice now. Twice she'd dreamed of the yellow-eyed man, and twice she'd felt herself in the skin of another.

She trailed Fin across the beach, their feet squeaking in the sand as they hurried back. They'd drifted off to sleep for an hour or so, waking to the night's death throes. The light was still nothing more than a promise on the horizon, and Máni remained full in the sky. Yet the day came.

Who was he, this Arkis? So few people had yellow eyes. Her mother had, and her uncle did, but not so bright and startling as the man's eyes—or her own.

It's just a coincidence, she told herself, and chided herself for assuming the man, Arkis, was a real person. Certainly not the mage Arkis—the destroyer of old Denea. A dream. He was nothing but a dream. Still, the memory of his slick body over and inside her made her shudder.

The man, real or not, was not a good one.

Nor had that Arkis been, reminded the small voice in the back of her mind.

The tide filled. The water had crept nearer to the esplanade. The fog that follows a short, broken sleep puffed about Rina, adding a sense of unreal to the world. But nothing seemed real these days. Everything had changed.

They approached the rock jetty. Fin vaulted up and, grinning, reached down, put his hands around her forearms—and hoisted her. She landed against his chest with an oompf! Fin's hands moved up and down her arms and goosebumps bloomed across her skin.

The tip of his nose touched hers. "Ready?"

Nodding, she let him take her hand.

The darkness ate their shadows. The waves drank their footfalls. Soon, the Crystal Queen towered over them, reclining on her watery throne.

Fin cupped his mouth and called out. While they waited, he pressed her back against the hull. A minute later, a sailor hollered from above and lowered the gangplank.

When the man made to walk down it, Fin stopped him. "No worry, Nathan, I'll see to it. How long until your watch ends?"

"Not soon enough, Cap. Half an hour."

"Go to your hammock. I slept on the shore, and I'm awake now. Might as well enjoy the sunrise."

"Thank you, Cap!"

She peered up from the curve of the hull and saw the man hesitate, before turning away.

Fin darted up the gangplank, then down again.

"Come," he said, urging her with a wave of his arms.

"Why are you hiding me when I stay in your cabin?" Rina whispered.

He smiled. "Well, I never had permission to take you ashore—the opposite." Hesitating a moment, he stroked one finger down her cheek. Rina gulped. "It didn't seem right not to bring you with me." He shrugged. "Let's get you inside so you can rest."

Rina couldn't relax. Exhausted as her body was, a sense of curiosity came over her. Would the Denese from Cartho be different than from Amadore? She had never met one who hadn't lived their entire life in her city, and the prospect made her tap her toes. Times were changing. A little spark of hope flared in her.

Then came the rumbling of wagons and clops of hooves, voices calling through the dawn, and thumping feet as crates were brought along the jetty and hauled on the ship. She had been unable to stay indoors.

Once again on the poop deck, dressed in her homespun under Fin's sandy cloak, despite the grumbles of the higher-ranking members of Fin's crew, Rina watched on with dry eyes as an impossible number of items were carried onboard.

When they finished, the ocean had long-since swallowed Hecata and began on Máni who threw crimson streaks across the skyline. The sky was as pale blue as ice, and the air nipped at Rina's exposed skin.

The men left, some returning aboard, others walking back to the town.

A party advanced. It was similar to the one Rina had been part of when she departed Amadore. Red-robed magisters walked in the fore, attended by acolytes in their umber robes, and the chosen with their families in shades of cream and brown. The city was a blur behind them, hazy in the dawning sun which began to eat the frost from the air.

The Denese didn't look different. Each of them, seven in all, bent before the small wooden dais erected for this purpose, and let the magister rest her hand on their head, mouth speaking words she could not hear, but knew all too well.

Will you do Mai's will? Will you continue to forsake yourself, bringing balance and prosperity to this land?

Excitement and anticipation sparked in their wide eyes. In the bounce of their steps, as they boarded.

Fin appeared then, jogging up the stairs.

"You need to go to my rooms now—or you can go be with the rest of Mai's chosen if you want."

Eyes narrowing, Rina shook her head. "Why can't I stay here?"

"It's..." His voice dwindled, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. For a second, Rina thought his lips twitched, but it was gone a moment later, replaced by a furrowed brow. "There may be some resistance."

She didn't understand what the problem was. Fin knew she came unwillingly.

His eyes scanned the ship and the jetty. "Come with me then. But not here."

She followed him to a lower level where a cluster of barrels sat, not yet taken into storage. He guided her to squeeze between a gap in them, and she squatted down in the space. From her position, it was just possible to spy the approach of a new group of Denese.

"What if someone comes and finds me?"

"Don't worry. I'll see to that."

Rina returned her attention to the assembly. Stone-faced guards surrounded them, in addition to Olav's small contingent who waited. She counted thirteen prisoners, mostly men, their bodies slumped. Around their hands were iron chains. No green glow to indicate the Carnelian Way, as at the arrest at her house. One of them didn't sag so much—a young woman, her frizzy russet hair dusted by flecks of gold like she'd spent long days in the sun. Rina peered closer. The girl's light-brown eyes were ablaze.

A guard, with a pinched expression on his face, waved his hand and a few of the prisoners flinched. The girl turned in his direction, fists clenched.

They continued forward. Something rubbed at the edge of Rina's awareness, like a blade of grass tickling her arm when she slept in the field. She brushed it away, mentally, but it persisted: Look, look, look.

She turned to her right, toward the entrance of the narrow bay. A small black shape. A fishing skip. One that grew in size—fast. Faster than it should as if a strong wind blew it toward them.

The girl with the sun-bleached hair noticed it too. She was almost at the gangplank, and Rina made out the resolve painted across the face. They started to board. The first prisoner, a portly, middle-aged man with receding hair. Then the second, a thin, tall woman with grey hair and a dress that hung on her frame like a sack on a scarecrow.

"Hey, what are you doin'?!"

Rina turned at the guard's bellow in time to see the girl yank her wrists apart, the snapped steel flying like chips from a pick-hammered rock. One of the guards cursed, a red streak welling on his temple. The girl twisted, flinging the heavy woollen clothes from her body. Beneath it, she wore a white shift with a ruby slash across her diaphragm, the way blood seeps into a fresh bandage. She dived into the water and swam. Swam toward—toward the skip, approaching like it rode a sudden gale. Her arms moved in sure, sturdy, practiced strokes.

An uproar broke out, full of mumbling and muttering and shouting.

"What is this?" came a shrill voice.

Magister Ro, Rina realised. The woman had emerged from below deck and stood near her, red mantle billowing in the calm air. Rina marked the way her hands grasped the balustrade, the intensity of her gaze. She leaned forward. Her hair streamed behind her like writhing snakes.

More shouts. Feet thudding on the boards.

The girl glided through the water as surely as a creature of the sea. The skip neared. Both entities cutting through the inlet with preternatural speed. Forms materialised, arms waving, hands cupping mouths. Hurry! Rina heard them shout without registering the sound.

Silence enveloped the Crystal Queen, and a prickle at Rina's neck caused her to face Magister Ro. She had climbed the poop deck. Every eye had drawn to her, like metal filings to a magnet. Her arms stretched out, her eyes closed.

Invisible claws ripped into Rina's soul and yanked. She fell. The air caught in her throat. It didn't hurt or burn, but it felt like something was flaying her very essence, stripping back its skin in a slow, slippery tug.

No! She grit her teeth. No!

She squeezed her eyes shut. Pain lanced through her jaw. The dam gate within her manifest itself, and she reached out and heaved it down.

It didn't budge.

She shook. A distant part of her was aware of how her body flopped about, a fish wrenched from a hook and thrown to the bottom of a boat. How foam frothed at her mouth. The thunk of her head on barrels. Another part of her, the true her, fixed her will on the dam gate, wrapped her fingers around its handle and pulled, and pulled, and pulled. Her mind shrieked. Her ears roared. In the physical world, her body floundered.

With eyes locked open, she saw Magister Ro rise into the air, the atmosphere humming like an angry swarm of bees. She only allowed a small portion of her consciousness to focus upon this, though. In that other place—that spirit place—she dug in her heels and pulled. And pulled. And pulled.

And fell as the dam clanked shut.

Her body spasmed. Her eyes blinked. They burned, red-raw from—how long had she been in that state?

Sara's practised instructions came to her, and she focused her breath, deliberate and deep. Eventually, she sat up, her head aching, gripped a barrel, and dragged herself up.

Ro still hovered above the ship, air rippling out from her in clear waves that distorted shapes and lines. Her fingers were hooks, clawing into phantom flesh. The tendons of her neck bulged.

Realising she no longer heard the rhythmic strokes of the girl, Rina swung her attention in that direction. The girl flailed now, mere meters from the skip. The passengers had formed a human chain, one of them in the water, ankles held, straining to reach her.

Vroom!

A hollow, sucking sound filled the space as an unseen hand snatched the girl from the water. She flew through the air and halted before Ro.

Ro looked down at the girl. Her head cocked to the side like a winter robin inspecting a juicy berry. Ro's arms were stiff as a mannequin as she reached out and enfolded the prone form. The girl's mouth opened and shut. Ro held the girl's face to her chest and the pair spiralled down, down, down, until they crumpled to the floor.

Then all hell broke loose. 

★☾●☽★

A/N:

Thank you again for reading. In order to try to make the Wattys deadline this year, I am now in fast-draft mode. So I apologise in advance for any reduction in quality. Please point out anything that didn't make sense so I can clarify it for you—and address in my revisions.

If you enjoyed this, please consider voting. (Silent readers, if you do, I'll thank you on your wall, but I won't harass you—promise!)

Thank you, Jas oxox