The silence from the vessel was absolute. It hung in the water, a slice of impossible night against the grey sea, waiting. Torren stared, his mind clearly struggling to reconcile the sight with the world he knew.
"How do we even get on?" he finally managed, his voice hushed.
As if hearing him, a section of the dark hull slid open with a barely audible hiss. A ramp of the same seamless metal extended smoothly, its end touching the black sand just feet from us. The warm light from within spilled onto the desolate shore, an invitation into another world.
I started walking toward it, my boots crunching on the sand. Torren hesitated for a heartbeat before falling into step beside me. At the base of the ramp, he stopped, looking up into the glowing interior as if he were about to step into a dragon's mouth.
"Is it... safe?" he asked, the question laced with awe and a healthy dose of fear.
"It's safer than anything else in this world," I replied, the words tasting like ash. It was the truth, but it was a miserable one.
I led the way up the ramp. The moment we stepped aboard, the ramp retracted, and the hull sealed behind us with the same whisper-quiet hiss, shutting out the sound of the waves and the biting wind. The change was instantaneous.
The inside wasn't a ship's hold but a hall from a king's wildest dream. The air was warm and still, smelling faintly of clean metal and something like distant rain. Lights glowed softly from recessed panels in the walls and ceiling, illuminating a space that was both minimalist and luxurious. There was no wood, no ropes, no clutter. Just clean lines, plush seating built into the walls, and a sense of quiet, immense power.
"This is..." Torren trailed off, turning in a slow circle. "There's no magic I've ever heard of that can do this."
"It's not their magic," I said, my voice echoing slightly in the vast corridor. "It's mine."
I led him forward, my feet sure on the smooth, dark floor. We passed doors that I knew led to comfortable living quarters, a fully stocked kitchen, and storage that held resources beyond measure. But our destination was the heart of the ship.
The 'bridge' was a wide, curved room at the vessel's fore, dominated by a vast crystalline window that offered an uninterrupted view of the grey sea. In the center of the room sat a single, large, comfortable-looking command chair. Before it, a slab of dark, polished stone was dormant.
I walked to the stone slab and placed my palm flat against its cool surface. It hummed to life. Lines of soft, blue light bloomed across its surface, forming a detailed, moving map of the coastline we had just left. A list of destinations, written in a language only I could read, appeared in the corner.
I felt Torren's presence behind me, his breath catching in his throat.
"Time to go," I said, my voice hollow. I found the coordinates for the island—our chosen sanctuary—and brushed my fingers over them.
A low, deep thrum vibrated through the deck, the only indication that the ship's engines had engaged. Without a lurch or a shudder, the Odyssey turned, its prow pointing toward the open sea.
I stood there for a long time, watching the shoreline of the North, the land of my birth, shrink through the massive window. I saw it recede from a coast, to a line, to a dark smudge between the sea and the sky, until finally, it was gone, swallowed by the mist.
A single, hot tear escaped and traced a cold path down my cheek before I angrily wiped it away. The life of Rudr Stark, son of Brandon the Builder, was over.
The hum of the ship was the only reply. We were alone, adrift on a sea of possibilities, heading for a kingdom no one knew existed.