The Glim burns brighter than it has before, its silver thread stretching forward, pulled tight toward the wall.
As we drift closer, something else becomes visible.
An opening.
And we’re sailing straight for it.
I stand on the forecastle of the ship, right behind the helm, the wind tearing at my frame. I welcome the spray of the sea as it needles my face, the cold that came with the setting of the sun. I don’t feel any of it, not really. What I feel, there under my skin, is the stirring of anticipation. Pure, sweet excitement that makes every vein in my body feel electric, like little bolts of lightning shooting through me.
I curl my fingers around the railing as the wall rises ahead of us. I crane my neck to look up at it, but the pale formation seems never to end. It is curved and smoothed in some places, uneven in others, like the inside of a shell. It gleams softly, almost iridescent, as if it were alive beneath the surface. I follow it with my gaze until it disappears into the clouds.
We are close enough now that I can see the opening more clearly. It is wide, wider than the Noctis by far, a dark mouth carved into the wall where the water parts in two.
The deck is crowded. Even though they are still hard at work, each pirate cannot help but gawk up at the tear in the sky before us. Grim moves along the starboard side, calling out adjustments as the current shifts. He glances at the wall with open concern, his jaw set tight. The other pirates haul on the lines, follow his orders. Lark is near the rail, knuckles white where he grips it, eyes wide and unblinking. When the Noctis shudders slightly beneath us, he swallows and straightens, forcing himself to be brave. To stand taller.
At the helm, Sable’s gaze stays fixed ahead.
His hands are on the wheel, shoulder squared, coat and hair pulled back by the wind. I know that absolutely nothing would now be able to stop this ship, not even the sea itself. Not if he has anything to say about it.
But there is something other than determination flashing across his face too.
Fear.
I see it in the way his jaw ticks, from the way his index finger taps against the wood of the wheel, and in the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot, nervous. This is his last chance – his last hope – to save the crew and break their curse. If what lies beyond this opening isn’t the Sea of the First Song, if it doesn’t help me with the power of my song, then this whole journey becomes just another tragedy in his life. It is only now that I realize my tail is no longer my priority.
He is.
As I reach him, I carefully place a hand on his shoulder, though I know he has noticed me before already. I am wearing the emerald gown that his shadow has gifted me.
“You’re wearing the dress,” he says quietly, keeping his gaze fixed ahead at the giant mouth about to swallow us whole.
“Yes,” I say and glance down at the bodice, then brush my fingers along the jewels. “I wanted to wear it for today.”
He clears his throat, his lashes flashing as he glances at me for a moment. “It looks good on you.”
A smile tugs at my lips, as though this is the first compliment he has ever given me. I already know he thinks I look beautiful in it. And yet, heat rushes into my cheeks. How ridiculous. We are about to sail into an unknown place, most likely falling right into the clutches of death. And here I am blushing over the words of a man. The Captain of the Noctis’ words no less.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely and come to stand next to him, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body, close enough for our shoulders to brush.
We stand there in silence and watch the curtain-like opening in front of us grow taller. Grim shouts commands at the crew, navigating them towards it. The wall opens up like a giant mouth, its jaw widening like a hungry beast in anticipation of its next meal. We’re about to pass through, and still can’t see what lies beyond. I cannot find any certainty in the emptiness that awaits on the other side of the wall.
“Sable?”
I hold my breath.
“Yes?”
Only a few more seconds. The Noctis glides through the water, aiming at the opening and groaning under the strong current that seems to work against us now.
“When all of this is over, and the sea finally claims me.” I begin, my voice watering as the light cast by the moon begins to fade. “Will you stay?”
Sable takes one hand off the wheel. My heart skips a beat as he threads his fingers through mine, skin against skin.
“I told you already,” he says, squeezing my hand gently. “The moon and the tide.”
At that moment, the figurehead at the bowsprit passes the opening. The sound changes instantly, the open air replaced bya deeper echo as the wall begins to swallow us. The roar of the waves is replaced by vast, hollow quiet that makes every sound carry further than it should.
The formation opens around us, so large that the ceiling is lost to darkness, the surface arching overhead in a curve I cannot see the end of. Along the walls, corals cling to the rock in patterns that make them look like they’ve been carefully placed there instead of naturally growing. Their colors are muted, pale greens, deep violets, and pink. Plants grow in them too, their leaves and vines swaying where the water brushes them and the wind breathes into them.