A friend on Orphano had once told Archer that people were always more beautiful when you were in love with them. He knew it to be true, that the soul and the heart twisted everything up to and including vision, so he spent his waking moments that morning picking apart Silta's sleeping face, trying to find the flaws his mind had hidden.

The golden sun streamed through every open window in the captain's quarters, shimmering on her skin of the same colour. She was poised even in sleep, chin lifted slightly, elegant fingers splayed out as if they'd been placed and measured perfectly. Whatever flaws she had, his mind had done an excellent job keeping them from him.

She did not shift, did not waver in her breathing pattern. He couldn't feel his arm, but he refused to move it. If he did, she could wake up and move, speak, ruin this moment. So he kept his breathing deep, watched the dust swirl for a minute before closing his eyes again.

It had to be only a mere second, but the next time he opened his eyes, she was gone. The sun was higher, and the captain's quarters were empty.

He sat up, pushing off the blanket she must've given him. Oh, this was perfect. Waking up alone, heart all fragile again, his carefully placed glue dissolving. Back to squares, back to the first one.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, he found his boots. There was no sign that Silta had ever been in there that morning. His head was pounding, his finger was throbbing again, but all he could think about was where she was. If she'd left him sleeping to be nice, or to send some sort of sick message.

He made his way down to the navigation room, feeling shaky on the stairs. Britter and Alli were there, snapping at each other, with Marquis off to the side and Rusher arguing with Starle over by the map. They all looked up as he hit the bottom of the steps.

"Morning, Captain," Alli said quickly. "You're feeling better?"

Archer glanced behind him. He could've come from the strategy room. It wasn't that obvious.

Although if it was, Archer was starting to look rather unstable to both Marquis and Alli. They'd seen him so mad at her he'd bloodied her nearly to death, then spent the night mere weeks after. It was a bad look, and one he desperately wanted to fix. But first, he needed to speak with Silta. They could be reaching the chest any second now.

Archer moved towards the door. "I'm fine, thank you." He closed the door behind him, leaving that mess behind.

The sun was dipping behind the clouds now, leaving darkness to cover the ship. He took the steps up to the wheel. Silta would be there.

Alli suddenly appeared in his path. He stopped so as to not run into her.

"I wanted to check in, Captain," she said. "You were a little loopy last night."

He glanced behind her, where he could see Jackson and Silta at the wheel. Rock came into view at the front of the ship, closing his timeframe. They'd have that conversation later. After they had the chest. He focused on Alli.

"I lost a lot of blood," he told her. "I'm fine."

Alli tilted her head. "You were acting insane long before Everson got to you," she pointed out. "You nearly killed Silta. I'm not sure why everyone's pretending that didn't happen."

"We're not pretending, Laurier."

"We are pretending, Captain. You turned her into a blood fountain not too long ago, and I'm pretty sure you were much kinder to her last night—"

"Laurier." He leaned against the rail, shaking his head despite the fact that she was right.

Alli searched his eyes. "I'm just trying to keep you straight, Captain."

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but a little bit of a smile came through. "You're not supposed to take care of me, Laurier. In fact, I'm supposed to be responsible for you."

"It's not a crime to need an intervention once in a while."

He glanced down at the red water below the railing. "I'm—" He broke off, frowning out at the ocean. "I'm still figuring a lot of things out, Alli. I just need to get through today. I'll give you reliability then."

Behind Alli, the rocks were getting closer. She nodded.

Archer sighed, glancing back down at the water for a moment. "You can say," he said. "If that's what you want."

He scanned her face, trying to pick apart her expression. She seemed confused "Stay...?" she repeated.

"Become a crew member," he clarified.

"But I—I mean, I've done nothing but irritate Silta. I'm not a good enough fighter, either."

"Silta doesn't see current talent, she sees potential, what she could make of them," he told her. "She'll take you."

"Will you be staying, Captain?" Alli asked, her voice tentative.

He sighed deeply. "No," he said. "I won't be."

Alli shrugged. "Then I'm with you," she said.

He hadn't been expecting that. "Laurier, don't make this decision so quick. This is the Avourienne. This ship is your dream."

"It's my fantasy, Captain. It's fun and exciting until it's not—until morality catches up with me. You gave me a chance without caring what my history was. I owe you my life for that."

"I don't require your life for that," Archer said quickly. "I don't require you to stay."

"I am staying."

He took a moment to think. He thought he'd become that old Avourienne version of himself, that he'd lost the part of himself people had since come to respect. He thought he'd lost any part of him that warranted loyalty.

"And Britter?" Archer asked, keeping his voice level.

Alli took a deep breath. "We'll see the Avourienne, won't we?"

"Maybe not."

Alli made a face. "But you and Silta—"

Archer shook his head. "I need you to pick a ship based on what you want."

"I want the Myriad," she said firmly.

He couldn't believe it. After how unstable he'd been, he never thought someone would stand in front of him and give away everything for the nothing he'd offered.

"You're off, Captain," she said softly. "I understand why. But when it comes down to it, you're the kind of person I want to follow, because we agree on the essence of things. Maybe telling you that will help you find you again."

It made his heart shatter, because he wasn't sure he could find it all again, knowing Silta was out there, somewhere.

"Pull to starboard!" came Jackson's shout.

They both turned to watch the Avourienne curve by a wide-mouthed cave. Alli smiled at Archer, then left him to ascend the stairs to the topdeck. He squinted out at the mountains, now surrounding the front of the ship.

He found Silta at the helm, her hands over those perfect carvings, where she was meant to be. Her eyes were clear and focused, how she was meant to be. And Archer stood behind her, where he was meant to be.

A hand landed on his shoulder, so he turned to find Britter, sparkling blue eyes full of excitement. "One last adventure, Kingsley?" he asked. "Before we throw you overboard?"

Archer turned his attention back to the cave. The sun was burning away into the afternoon, the dark clouds roiling around the sharp peaks. Shivers of fear ran down his spine.

"One last adventure," he mumbled to himself. The mountains drew closer and closer, the red sea hugging the shoreline with a less-than-friendly embrace. The shadow of the rocks pulled over the Avourienne as she sailed slowly into the mouth of the cave. He couldn't see anything other than black inside. He stepped forward to the rail to look. Nothing.

Behind him, more and more of the crew came out onto the deck, their faces alight with uncertainty. Some were excited, other were terrified. Pincho and Bickie came up beside Archer, Marquis just behind.

The Avourienne, ever the sensitive ship, turned slightly to avoid jagged shapes on either side of the cave mouth. Silta turned over the wheel to Jackson, who had been at there almost all of Archer's time on the Avourienne.

The rocks swallowed the ship into a body of darkness. Archer wanted to catch Silta's eye; he wanted to talk to her about them, but her eyes stayed firm on the darkness in front of them.

He glanced behind him, watching the sliver of light disappear into nothing. For a moment, everything was dark. Then, the light slid through holes in the rocks. But it wasn't sunlight; it was moonlight.

There were sounds of the crew gasping as Archer tried to keep his in. The red water beneath them was dark and still like glass, mirroring a beautiful display of recognizable stars. The roof of the cave shone with a reflection of water. It was an upside-down world.

Peeling his eyes away from the rocks and the water, Archer looked forward. It was almost impossible to see through the darkness.

"Valour," Silta called. The verbal word sounded wrong in the sheer silence.

Vikki pushed her way through the small crowd at the front of the ship, stilling just behind Silta's left. She muttered a few things to Jackson—directing him through the maze of tunnels.

Archer couldn't quite take his eyes off the blanket of stars or the reflection of red on the roof. He continuously looked behind him, wondering when Everson was going to come racing though.

And in all truth, he should've wondered why Everson didn't come racing through.

Eyes on the water, Archer felt Alli come up beside him. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Archer nodded, avoiding her gaze. "In a haunting way," he replied, his eyes following the bloody trails of water on the cave ceiling.

"Beauty walks a fine line," Alli said.

Where was Everson?

The question plagued him, but he didn't let it sneak up into his mind too far. Silta was lucid now; she was thinking properly. She hadn't missed anything. She'd just said all that to get him where she wanted last night.

If he'd cared to glance over at her, he would've seen her eyes cloudy and unfocused, her gaze wandering and anything but solid. He would've seen that she was no longer her lucid self. Things could be missed by her today; things were being missed every passing second.

Archer shook away the feelings, continuing to glance behind him. Shivers raced down his spine, down his arms and his legs. He stared at the water and for a moment, he thought he saw Jeanne's face.

He blinked. Gone.

Looking back up into the darkness, Archer caught sight of something light in the water. It was just a soft glow, but it must've been important, for Silta ordered the ship to slow and drop anchor.

The Avourienne came to a rest in the middle of a wide cavern, sails brushing the sides of the rock. The sailcloth was nearly the colour of the roof above them, waiting to crack and fall.

Silta moved down the stairs, her eyes following the glow in the water. She slid a hand down the rail, long fingers gentle in the darkness.

"You're gonna be our swimmer, Captain?" Jackson asked, keeping his voice low. It was as if one could not speak beyond a certain volume when residing in such an ethereal place.

Silta didn't reply. She kept her eyes on the glow in the water. She turned around.

Britter had seen what Archer hadn't. He'd noticed that hazy look in Silta's eyes that occasionally took up residence there. "Are you sure now's the time, Captain?" he whispered to her.

Silta didn't reply. She took Britter's hand, and he helped her over the railing. Without so much as a second thought, she dropped into the water.

Apparently, the crew of the Avourienne had known about this part of finding the chest. Their hearts didn't begin to stutter when Silta didn't crest the surface for nearly a minute. Archer tried to remind himself that she was built to hold her breath.

But where was Everson?

At last, she broke the surface of the water, bringing with her that soft glow. The water around her illuminated red, as if sharks had feasted on those before her and left their blood to mix with the water.

Britter threw down the rope, pulling it hand over hand. Archer wasn't the least bit surprised when Silta pulled herself over the railing. She was not the thing attached the that rope.

He wasn't sure what it would look like. He wasn't sure what something so powerful or godly would present as. But it was simply a chest—black, with a blueish tint, just like she'd said it would be.

Silta tugged out a knife from her waistband and sliced it quickly against her wrist. The blood welled quickly, and she held out her hand so it could drip from the wound. It sizzled against the wood below. Royal blood, just like the legend.

Archer's eyes stayed on her, noticing that hazy look now. Now was not the time. He never realized how much they'd relied on her mind until it seemed like she never had time to be off.

Silta had paused, eyes on the chest. The rest of the crew gathered around, eager for her to slip the key in. She didn't move.

"Move, kill or block," she whispered.

Archer caught the tone. It was somewhere between her regular brilliance and her now-customary insanity. Her eyes flickered around the ship, not quite resting on the glowing chest.

Britter reached over her and pulled the key off her neck. She didn't stop him, but she looked like she wanted to.

"Block," she whispered.

Britter turned to look at her.

Her eyes darted. She looked everywhere, her tongue running over a sharp canine. "I think...hold on."

Britter looked at Archer, who wasn't sure how to react. He watched Silta.

"It's check..." she trailed off. She was thinking again. Scenarios and possibilities and predictions. Archer watched her.

"I have to block..." Trailed off again. "With what?"

Archer could see the crew of the Avourienne getting agitated. They wanted to open the chest. They wanted to take out Everson's heart and slice it to pieces. They didn't want to listen to Silta ramble on about nothing.

Except it wasn't nothing. Insane she might be, but brilliant she was also. She was almost there. She almost had it. If only they would give her a moment.

"It's a divide," she said.

Britter's eyes were scanning the crew. He wanted to please them, but he wanted to follow orders. He looked back at Silta. He knelt down to the chest.

"Wait." Silta's voice was bold and impatient, her eyes still darting.

"Open the damn thing," Bates' voice rang out over the crew.

"Don't." Silta ran her tongue over her canines. Archer saw focus in them, under layers and layers of fog. But it was there. They needed to give her time. Whatever she was thinking about, it was important.

Where was Everson?

"Fucking open it," came another voice, Kourvourk's. "We've come all this way, so fucking open it."

Britter glanced up at Silta, the key inches from the lock. Her wet hair spilled down her shoulders, black as ever. She'd finally come to rest her gaze on the rock in front of them. She said nothing. She ran her tongue over a sharp canine. "My queen," she whispered.

Britter let out a long breath and inserted the key. He twisted.

Recognition flickered in Silta's eyes, a second too late. He opened that ungodly thing anyway, the telltale sound of a match striking once he did.

"Overboard," Silta whispered.

Light was dancing across Britter's face already, but time slowed just for them to live through the realization. Wasn't that the way it worked here, in the divide?

Archer tilted his head to see inside. Perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps it was that he—like many of the crew, it seemed—didn't trust Silta's every word anymore.

The chest did not have hearts in it. Not Everson's, not Jeanne's, but it did have gunpowder. That horrific fine powder that made a pistol fire, made a cannon go, made the Kingsland explode. It killed things, destroyed things, and it particularly liked to set fire to things made of wood.

This was check. The only option was to block.

"Abandon ship!"

Silta was the one to move first, pushing members of her crew over the rail with all her strength, kicking them away, forcing them to move. Some tried to fight her, others followed her word, and some just stayed there, like Archer, watching that little flame as it travelled down the side of the chest.

Where was Everson? Faraway, of course. Far away from the burning and the flames.