The moon cast a silver glow over the deck, its light dancing across the gently rocking waves. The scent of salt lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of wood and oil from the ship's lanterns.
Below deck, the crew had gathered for their evening meal, their laughter and conversation muffled beneath the wooden boards.
Arthur had gone down to wish them all a good night, offering a nod of gratitude to the men and women who had worked tirelessly to repair the damage from the storm.
But his true destination lay further below.
When he stepped into his cabin, he found Cesealia at her vanity, brushing her hair.
She caught his reflection in the mirror and sighed. "What a day."
Arthur leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You did well today."
She exhaled heavily, setting down her brush. "She still won't talk. She won't eat. She barely reacts to anything."
Arthur nodded, taking a mental note to try again tomorrow. "Give it time," he said. "She's been through more than we know."
Cesealia nodded, but the troubled look in her eyes remained.
Arthur watched her a moment longer before asking, "And how are you?"
She turned slightly to look at him. "I don't know. I feel… off. Like something is wrong, but I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's just the sea playing tricks on me. Maybe I'm crazy."
She faced the mirror again, the flickering candlelight making her hair glow like spun gold.
Arthur pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her.
When she looked up at him in the mirror, he met her gaze and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.
"You're not crazy," he murmured.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, savoring the comfort he offered.
Arthur straightened and turned toward the door.
"Will you be late ?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"The crew's exhausted from the repairs," he said. "They need a few days' rest. We'll cover for them until then."
She sighed, but nodded in understanding. "Tomorrow night, then?"
He smirked, pausing at the doorway.
" Tomorrow night, love."
She couldn't help but recall a memory.
The workshop was quiet but alive with golden flickers of lantern light swaying gently from the beams above.
The distant sound of music drifted in through the open window — laughter, drums, voices lifted in celebration.
The Lantern Festival had begun.
But inside, there was only the steady hum of breath, metal, and silence.
Cesealia entered through the side door, brushing back her wind-blown curls.
She spotted Eric, her late brother, hunched over the central table, elbows deep in parchment and velvet, the glow of a small flame dancing beside him.
She cocked her head, watching his hands carefully wrap something in soft cloth. Something glinting.
"What's that?" she asked casually.
Eric didn't answer at first. His broad shoulders rose slightly before he turned toward her, a strange look on his face — part excitement, part guilt, and something else… wonder.
" I made a trade," he said quietly.
She raised a brow. "A trade?"
He nodded, voice low. "With the old woman. The one in the tent at the edge of the city."
Cesealia's eyes widened instantly.
" You mean the voodoo woman?" Her voice dipped in disbelief. " Eric, what were you thinking?"
He lifted a hand, not in defense, but assurance. "It's fine. I gave her something I didn't need… and in return, I got this."
From his palm, he unwrapped a small silver pendant. It was in the shape of a coiled dragon, wings extended mid-flight, and in the center of its chest was a glowing red gem — faintly pulsing like a heartbeat.
The light caught in the gem, and for a moment, it shimmered like fire behind glass.
Cesealia stepped back.
" That's magic. That's old magic, Eric."
He nodded again. "I know."
She stared at him, then at the necklace. "Who's that for?"
Eric hesitated. Just for a breath. Then slowly turned, the softest flicker of a smile on his lips.
He held the pendant up again, letting it sway between them.
"Can you keep a secret?"
Cesealia folded her arms, expression torn between concern and affection.
"depends on what it is."
He looked back down at the necklace, the firelight dancing across his face.
"I have a date. Tonight. The Lantern Festival. With the princess."
There was a beat.
"Arthur's sister?"
Eric nodded.
Cesealia blinked. She hadn't seen Arthur in years — not since the fight that tore the trio apart. Not since they stopped being a we and became past tense.
Her voice was gentler now. "Does he know?"
Eric exhaled sharply through his nose, lips twitching into something like a smirk. "That's the secret."
Her arms dropped slightly, her guard softening. She could see it now — the nervous fire in his eyes.
The quiet ache behind his reckless confidence.
"Be careful," she said softly. "You and Arthur… It's not just broken. It's splintered."
He looked away, gaze falling back to the gem.
"I don't want to talk about Arthur."
He took a breath. "I'm—"
"I know." Her voice is barely a whisper now.
She stepped forward and wrapped him in a quiet embrace, her hand gently resting between his shoulder blades.
"I think I love her," he said, almost too softly. "But I know… there's no future."
Cesealia's grip tightened, not in warning — but in shared grief.
"I know the feeling."
And for a moment, nothing more needed to be said.
The ship swayed gently beneath Arthur, the waves lapping at the sides in a rhythmic hum.
He made his way toward the ship's railing, but stopped when he heard something—soft, melodic, carrying through the wind like a ghostly whisper.
Humming.
His eyes followed the sound until they landed on Mandoriya.
She stood at the ship's edge, her lilac hair spilling over her shoulders, her arms folded as she gazed out at the sea.
But the moment she noticed him, she went silent, turning away as if she had been caught doing something forbidden.
Arthur stepped forward, stopping beside her. He leaned against the railing, resting his forearms on the wood.
" You sing?" he asked casually.
Mandoriya hesitated before shaking her head. "Not anymore, do you?"
Arthur glanced at her, "A little," sensing there was more to her words, but he didn't press. Instead, he hummed a familiar melody in the back of his head.
"Thats beautiful," she said. "Did your mother sing it to you?'
" My father actually," Arthur smiled, "he used to sing it to my siblings and me," he gestured toward the sea. " It's beautiful at night, isn't it?"
She nodded. "It reminds me of home."
Arthur took the opportunity. "Where is home?"
Mandoriya stiffened. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, as if deflecting, she asked, "How does the ship… move?"
Arthur exhaled, knowing she was avoiding the question. But he let it slide. Instead, he stepped behind her and guided her toward the ship's wheel.
He placed her hands on the correct sides and said, "If you wish to go left," he demonstrated, turning the wheel slightly. "And if you wish to go right," he waited, watching as she hesitantly turned it the opposite way, her grip gentle but curious.
She looked up at him.
"You got it," he said with a small smile.
Mandoriya lowered her gaze, watching the wheel turn slowly in her hands. "Who… is she?"
Arthur blinked. "Who?"
"The woman who… gave me clothes."
Arthur chuckled. "That's my partner and first mate."
Mandoriya frowned slightly. "What is a… first mate?"
"Someone who commands the ship after me," he explained.
A small crease formed between her brows. "So you are… the owner?"
Arthur let out a soft laugh. Heavens no. I could never run this ship by my lonesome."
Mandoriya studied him carefully, as if weighing his words. "So. You help each other ."
He nodded. "That's what partners are for."
" What will happen to the man that hurt me'
Arthur's jaw tensed. He didn't speak, but she must have sensed his anger.
" He will be dealt with."
She hesitated, then admitted, "I was running away. From a marriage… to my Wer."
Arthur frowned. "Your Wer?"
"A… partner," she clarified. "But not by choice."
Her fingers curled slightly over the wooden wheel. Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"My father sent my sisters after me… to bring me back. Then, the man on the boat," Her breath hitched. "killed them. And took me."
Her body shuddered, a strangled sob escaping her lips.
Arthur's heart twisted. He didn't think—he simply acted.
He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her trembling form. She stiffened at first, as if unfamiliar with the gesture.
But then, slowly, she let herself fall against him.
Arthur placed a hand on her head, gently running his fingers through her lilac strands.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Mandoriya didn't speak. She only clutched his coat tighter, silent tears staining the fabric.
Arthur's grip tightened.
He could never understand that life had to be so cruel at times as it was kind.
For now, He would protect her and everyone on this ship.
With his life.