Just as she slammed the door of the captain's cabin shut, they sailed into the storm. Rain pelted the windows furiously, and thunder rumbled closer. Einar's desperate plea barely rose above the clamor.

The ship pitched more violently than usual, and Severa clung tightly to the handrail as she descended the stairs. The cabin floor was littered with rolling fruit and shards of glass from a vase that had once stood on the table.

Thunder cracked, and the ship's interior was illuminated by the cold, white flash of lightning. Carefully, Severa let go of the handrail and peered out the window. But beyond the waves crashing wildly against the panes, there was little to see.

She collapsed onto the edge of the bed, wrapping herself in blankets, her gaze fixed outside. Perhaps the ruler of evil had lost patience with her, or maybe he had even abandoned hope in her vengeance.

The urge to seek revenge on Einar, to bring Brimsjá to ruin, still burned within her. Yet something held her back. She couldn't even name the reason why. He mocked her relentlessly; he was the prince of the kingdom that had killed her father. And then, there was that Pyroraptor.

Severa had to admit she'd been too merciful with him. She'd given him bread, trusted his directions without inflicting serious torment. But Brimsjá was still out of sight, and by now the time they'd spent drifting away from the coast must have been shorter than the time they'd spent heading toward it.

Had she truly believed Einar would willingly sacrifice his life to make his kingdom atone for the victims of their past mission? After the bizarre events of the last few days, she found herself surprised by nothing anymore. It seemed she had truly become an Ósköp.

A massive wave slammed into the ship, the impact throwing her against the bed. It felt as though the vessel was smashing sideways into the water's surface. Even inside, she no longer felt safe from the storm. She felt at the mercy of the sea, of the dark waves pounding ever harder against the ship's windows. It was as if the forces of evil had come for her, to punish her for the weakness that had suddenly taken hold of her.

The thought of falling into the water made her shudder. She had never learned to swim; she would drown immediately. Severa froze at the thought. The sea had always been a grave to her, but she had never imagined being dragged into it alive. Even her father, the bravest man she had ever known, had been terrified of the ocean's depths.

Unlike her mother, her father had always told her gruesome tales—of wars, attacks by forest-dwellers, and deadly creatures with sharp claws that could break through wooden walls and devour you as you lay unprotected under your thin blankets.

For six months, her father had tucked Severa into bed in a steel suit of armor. Her mother had even had to open the visor to give her a goodnight kiss. Her father had promised to spare her stories of the sea because even he couldn't sleep at night thinking about them. Now, those dark nightmares seemed to reach out for her, like icy, long claws digging into her skin.

When she heard a scream from Einar over the storm, the dreadful feeling abruptly left her. She staggered to her feet and looked out at the raging waves battering the ship's window.

Hope flared within her again—perhaps too eagerly, but this time fate left her no choice. If she wanted to survive the storm, she had to free Einar.

Making her way to the deck was a struggle, both physically and mentally. She realized their roles had now reversed. Her fate was now in Einar's hands, and despite the protective presence of evil she had once felt, her future now seemed safer with him. She no longer counted on a miracle to save her; she refused to rely on it.

When she finally reached the deck, Einar looked even more hopeless than she felt, tied to the mast. His luxurious hair clung wetly to his face, and he spat out seawater as wave after wave crashed over him.

"Do something! Or we'll capsize!" Einar shouted as soon as he saw her.

"Cap-what?" Severa yelled back, her nerves rattling. How could he expect her to get them out of this situation?

"Drown!" Einar managed to cry out before another wave doused him. A towering wave struck the ship, nearly tipping it onto its side. With a heavy crash, Severa lost her footing and rolled across the deck as water engulfed her.

Frightened, she brushed the hair plastered to her face aside and spat out the salty water with disgust. Her mind felt frozen as the wind howled in her freezing ears, her whole body prickling and itching from her soaked, icy clothes.

"Get to the helm and steer into the waves, or the sea will swallow us whole!" Einar commanded urgently.

"Get to the what?" Severa shouted in frustration.

"The helm! Now!" Einar bellowed, his articulation clear despite not realizing that Severa, having only learned the word that morning, had long forgotten what it meant.

Severa growled and pulled the boarding knife from her pocket. Stumbling across the bucking ship, she made her way to the mast where Einar was bound and hastily hacked at the ropes with the blunt blade. "I give the orders here!" she grumbled. "You go to the helm and keep this boat afloat."

Einar didn't hesitate, scrambling to his feet. His legs were weak after being tied to the mast for two days, and he could barely stay upright. Wobbling and stumbling, he made his way to the helm. With all his strength, he pulled on it, and the ship began to turn slowly. Yet the fierce waves continued their relentless assault, wrenching the deck out from under their feet.

Severa clung desperately to the mast. Her stomach churned, and all the color drained from her face. The ship was now angled against the waves, and instead of rocking from side to side, it climbed the towering swells, at times nearly standing vertical in the water.

Severa looked down to where the captain's cabin now lay, skewed beneath her like a sucking abyss ready to crush her. A place where she would be punished for trusting the enemy. Where, after all the painful lessons and experiences, she would meet the same fate as her mother. It was too late now to plead to Balor for mercy.

"I can't hold on!" Einar cried weakly. Severa looked up. His teeth were clenched tight, and his face was flushed red from exertion. The ship slid downward again, and Severa felt gravity shift beneath her feet. Trembling, she let go of the mast and stumbled uncontrollably toward Einar.

"Port side!" Einar groaned as Severa clutched the helm. His arm pressed against her side as he struggled to keep the ship steady. Despite the unrelenting torrents of freezing seawater drenching them, his body radiated a warmth—infectiously warm, as if he truly had fire burning within him.

Severa pulled the helm in the same direction as Einar, following his commands filled with unfamiliar sailor's terms. For a moment, she was so focused on matching his movements and exerting all her strength on the helm that the terrifying rain and thunder faded away. The nausea in her stomach was suppressed by an unyielding determination that endured until the storm abated as suddenly as it had begun.