Severa scanned the surface of the water, where wooden planks and other floating remnants of the ship emerged from the darkness. Perhaps she could still find something useful. Carefully, she paddled back toward the scene of the wreck. Her eyes fell on a red pillowcase bobbing on the water. Using her paddle, she retrieved it, but there wasn't much inside—only a few pieces of fruit that had kept it afloat. She hauled it into the boat and continued her search.

Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from the water, and her boat began to sway. Startled, Severa turned and saw a hand gripping the edge of the boat. "Einar!"

Relief washed over her. Without hesitation, she grabbed his shirt and hauled him aboard. He coughed up water and brushed his hair from his face.

"You..." Einar began, still gasping for air.

"I left without you, yes," Severa interrupted indignantly. "What did you think? That I would..." Einar placed a hand over her mouth, smiling.

"You're safe," he said softly, lowering his hand.

Severa looked away, guilt flashing across her face. He didn't even blame her? Tentatively, she looked back, searching his expression for sarcasm or anger, but she found no trace of it. Only a faint smile lingered on his face as his head bowed. His deep blue eyes, rivaling the sea's depths, met hers, and for a moment, it felt as if the cold water on her skin evaporated instantly. Her heart pounded in her chest. What was he? What was he doing to her?

"So are you," she grumbled, feigning irritation. "For a pyroraptor, you're more water-resistant than I thought."

Einar chuckled and sighed, sliding off the bench to lie on the bottom of the boat, his legs sprawled across Severa's seat. The stars and moons above seemed to twinkle in his eyes.

"We've strayed far from home, Severa. I once heard that no matter where you are, the night sky always looks the same. I used to gaze at it from the castle gardens, dreaming of being somewhere else. It's true—the sky looks exactly the same here."

Severa shook her head and slid down from the bench as well, leaning her back against it. A calm feeling overtook her, more familiar than the stars above, which indeed looked unchanged.

She, too, had never ventured far from home. Yet as she stared at the heavens now, it felt as though she could just as easily be lying on the shores of Sylvamarius, where the sea smelled just as strong as it did here. It was strange that the stars reminded her of home now, while at home, they had always made her dream of faraway places.

Her mother had loved the stars and moons, cherishing the mysteries they carried. She loved the unknown, the questions without answers. Her mother always had answers, though, spun purely from imagination. It didn't matter whether they were true or not; they brought hope, and that was all she needed to fend off the darkness.

As a child, Severa had adored believing in those stories—adventures of star wanderers and moon makers. There was no evidence of their existence, but neither was there proof her mother's tales weren't true. Every story had two sides. But since her mother's death, she had been unable to see the beauty in those tales anymore; they couldn't be anything but lies.

"Strayed far from home, huh?" Severa murmured, realizing what that meant. "And here I was, thinking we were heading to Brimsjá."

Einar chuckled teasingly.

Severa clenched her jaw in frustration. She felt like a pawn, as if she were being tested. Her greatest enemy had been handed to her on a silver platter. He embodied everything she despised, and it would take no effort for her to end his life. Yet, instead, she had saved him.

That voice in her head, the one urging her to spare him, was hope. Hope that she could trust him. That he might be worth more alive than dead. But now she realized it was false hope.

Of all the things she loathed, and everything he represented, the false hope he inspired was the worst. False hope was her greatest enemy, and Balor had given it to her, as if daring her to destroy it once and for all. That must have been her reward for unleashing evil, but instead, she let the false hope control her.

Severa stared up at the sky and saw a shooting star. Einar chuckled as if nothing was amiss, pointing at it. "Look, a shooting star. Legends say you can make a wish when you see one."

Severa sat up, grabbing her machete from the boat's floor. "Too bad no one believes in those legends anymore. As far as I know, a shooting star is just a spark of hope defeated by the king of darkness."

She leaned over Einar, who was still lying on the floor. "And you are that shooting star, Einar," she hissed, pressing the blade to his neck. His eyes showed no fear. Perhaps it was the shimmering night sky reflected in them, or the faint smile that seemed indelible.

"Was I a spark of hope?" he asked hoarsely. "Your spark of hope?"

Severa pressed the knife harder against his throat and swallowed. "False hope," she muttered, her voice trembling over the words.

"Your death is now my spark of hope," she added bitterly, regaining her composure. "Your death is my revenge. You're the perfect victim." She pressed the blade harder, watching a thin trickle of blood run along the knife's edge.