Morning came like it always did.
Quiet. Slow. Unbothered by anything that had happened the day before.
The village didn't change for one moment of chaos.
It wouldn't. How could it? People had to work to survive, and not a moment could be wasted.
By the time the sun crested over the water, men were already moving through the streets, hauling rope and tools, shouting half-finished thoughts to one another like the day had been waiting on them.
And maybe it had.
I was down by the docks before most of them.
I always was.
I cast the net again—too early this time.
It hit the water unevenly, folding in on itself before sinking.
"That's twice now."
I glanced over.
Sten stood at the edge of the dock, arms crossed, watching me with a look I'd seen more times than I could count.
Not angry.
Just disappointed enough to notice.
"Wind shifted," I said.
It hadn't.
He grunted. "Funny. Doesn't seem to be bothering anyone else."
I didn't answer.
Sten stepped closer, boots creaking against the wood, eyes scanning the water, then the net, then me.
"Your timing's off," he said. "You're throwing like you're guessing."
"I'm not guessing."
"Then stop missing."
There was no bite to it.
That almost made it worse.
I pulled the rope in, slower than I should have. The net came up half-empty, tangled where it shouldn't have been.
Sten watched the whole thing without saying anything.
That was his way.
Let you see it yourself first.
"Something on your mind?" he asked after a moment.
I shook my head. "No."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You're a bad liar when you're tired," he said.
"I'm not tired."
"Then you're distracted."
I hesitated.
The rope tightened in my hands again before I realized it.
"That boy yesterday," I said finally.
Sten nodded once. "Heard about it."
"Didn't seem right."
"Nearly got trampled," Sten said. "I imagine that does something to a person."
"It wasn't that."
He glanced at me, just briefly.
"No?"
I looked out over the water, trying to put it into words and failing.
"He didn't look scared," I said.
Sten was quiet for a moment.
Then he shrugged. "People react different."
"Yeah."
It didn't feel like enough.
Sten stepped up beside me, resting a hand briefly on the rope between us.
"You're thinking too far ahead," he said.
"I'm just thinking."
"That's the problem."
I almost smiled at that.
He nodded toward the water. "You want to be good at this, you pay attention to what's in front of you. Not what might be underneath it."
I followed his gaze out to the sea.
Calm.
Steady.
Hiding everything beneath it.
"Right," I said.
Sten clapped my shoulder once—firm, grounding.
"Again," he said.
I reset the net, adjusted my grip, and cast.
The net sank clean this time, spreading wide before disappearing beneath the surface.
I waited, hands resting on the rope, feeling the subtle pull of the current through it.
For a moment, everything felt normal again.
Then something shifted.
Not a tug.
Not weight.
Just… resistance.
I frowned slightly and began to pull.
The rope came up heavier than it should have—not full, not fighting—just wrong.
"Catch something?" Sten asked.
"Doesn't feel like it," I said.
I hauled the net up over the edge of the boat.
It hit the wood with a wet slap.
Empty.
Mostly.
I froze.
Dark streaks clung to the mesh, thick and uneven, spreading slowly between the knots like something alive.
Ink.
Not the kind used for marking or trade—
thicker than that.
It smeared when I touched it.
Cold.
Too cold.
"Sten…"
He stepped closer, crouching beside the net.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
He reached out, rubbing a bit of it between his fingers.
It stained his skin instantly.
"That's new," he said.
"Yeah."
He looked out over the water, then back at the net.
"You drag too close to the rocks?"
I shook my head. "No."
He grunted, not convinced—but not arguing either.
"Could be something from deeper," he said.
"Like what?"
He wiped his hand on the side of the boat, though the stain didn't fully come off.
"Sea's full of things we don't see," he said.
I looked back at the net.
The dark stain had already crept further along the rope.
Not dripping.
Not running.
Just… growing.
My grip tightened.
"You ever seen this before?" I asked.
Sten didn't answer right away.
Then—
"No," he said.
That bothered me more than anything else.
"Cut it loose," he added after a moment.
"What?"
"That section," he said, nodding toward the stained mesh. "No use bringing rot back with you."
It didn't look like rot.
But I didn't argue.
I pulled my knife and cut the line.
The stained portion dropped back into the water without a sound.
The surface closed over it immediately.
Gone.
Like it had never been there at all.
I stared at the spot longer than I should have.
"Erik," Sten said.
I looked up.
"Focus," he told me.
I nodded.
But my eyes drifted back to the water anyway.
Because for just a second—
I thought I saw something move beneath it.
I rinsed my hands in the sea, though the feeling of it didn't quite go away.
Sten had already turned back to his work, like nothing had happened.
That was his way.
If something didn't make sense, you either figured it out…
or you moved on.
I tried to do the same.
It didn't take.
The village was fully awake by the time I made my way back up from the docks.
Smoke curled from cookfires. Traders were already setting up along the main road, arguing over space like it mattered more than the goods themselves.
Everything looked the same.
But something felt… off.
Like the rhythm had slipped just slightly out of place.
People were talking more than usual.
Not laughing.
Talking.
I caught pieces of it as I passed.
"…should've been back before sunrise…"
"…north woods, they said…"
"…not like them to miss a return…"
I slowed without meaning to.
"Hunters," someone said behind me. "Went out yesterday. Haven't come back."
I turned slightly. "Which ones?"
The man shrugged. "Three of them. Maybe four. Doesn't matter. They're late."
Late.
That was enough to get people talking.
It wasn't enough to make them afraid.
Not yet.
Hunters missed time sometimes.
Weather. Tracks. Bad luck.
It happened.
But not like this.
Not without word.
Not all of them.
I thought about the boy.
The net.
The way the ink had spread.
And for a moment—
it all felt connected.
I told myself it wasn't.
I didn't believe it.
I found them near the edge of the main road, not far from the longhouse.
Malek stood at the center of it, like he always did—not by force, just by presence.
Torvin leaned against a post nearby, arms crossed, listening.
Freya stood a little apart from them, but not far.
"…I'm telling you, they should've been back by now," Torvin was saying as I approached.
"They'll come back," Malek replied. "They always do."
"Not this late."
"Then they stayed out longer," Malek said with a shrug. "Better hunting."
Torvin didn't look convinced.
Freya noticed me first.
"You hear?" she asked.
I nodded once. "On the way up."
Malek glanced over. "You look like you didn't sleep."
"I did."
"Badly," he said.
I ignored that.
"Hunters missing?" I asked.
"Late," Malek corrected.
"Late enough people are talking," Torvin said.
Malek shrugged again. "People talk about everything."
"Not like this," Freya said quietly.
He looked at her, then back at us.
"They'll come back," he said.
He believed it.
That was the thing about Malek.
If something hadn't gone wrong yet—
it wouldn't.
"Maybe," I said.
Malek glanced at me.
"You've got that look again," he said.
"What look?"
"The one where you think something's wrong before it is."
Torvin snorted. "He always looks like that."
"Not always," Malek said.
He studied me for a second longer than usual.
"What is it?" he asked.
I hesitated.
"Pulled something up in the nets this morning," I said.
"Fish?" Torvin asked.
"No."
Malek tilted his head slightly. "Then what?"
"Ink," I said.
That got a pause.
"Ink?" Torvin repeated.
"Not like anything I've seen," I said.
Freya's eyes narrowed slightly.
"From the water?" she asked.
I nodded.
Malek let out a small breath, half amused. "Sea's full of strange things."
"Sten said the same thing," I replied.
"Then I trust Sten," Malek said. "You should too."
Maybe I should have.
But between the boy…
the ink…
and now the hunters—
something wasn't lining up.
I looked past them, toward the tree line in the distance.
The woods sat still.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
"If they don't come back by tonight," Torvin said, "someone's going out to look."
Malek didn't hesitate.
"Then we go find them."
Freya closed her eyes for just a second.
Like she already knew how this would end.
I noticed that too.