The silence stretched between them, thick but not uncomfortable.

The ship continued its steady advance, waves breaking softly against the hull as if the sea itself had decided to behave—for now. Noel remained leaned against the railing, eyes on the dark water below, letting Roberto's words settle without rushing to fill the space.

"You don't have to decide tonight," Noel said at last, voice calm. "Whatever it is… choices like that shouldn't be rushed."

Roberto let out a slow breath through his nose. "If only it worked like that."

Noel glanced at him. "What do they want from you?"

Roberto hesitated, then shrugged, gaze dropping to the deck as if the answer were obvious.

"They want me to choose," he said. "To finally stop standing in the middle."

"Family?" Noel asked, gently.

Roberto nodded once. "Yeah."

He scratched the back of his neck, expression tightening just a little. "Two people I care about. Both convinced they're right. Both convinced the other one crossed a line."

"And if you don't choose?" Noel pressed.

Roberto gave a quiet, humorless chuckle. "Then I'm 'avoiding responsibility.' Or 'running away.' Depends who you ask."

That made far more sense. Noel relaxed slightly, leaning back against the railing again.

"So it's one of those," he said. "No matter what you do, someone gets hurt."

"Exactly." Roberto stared out at the sea. "And the worst part is… once you take a side in a family matter like that, things don't go back to how they were."

Noel nodded slowly. He'd seen that before. Too many times.

"You pick one," Roberto continued, voice lower now, "and the other doesn't just get angry. They close the door. And even if years pass…" He shook his head. "Some doors don't open again."

The wind rolled between them, carrying the scent of salt and cold.

"That's rough," Noel said honestly. "But it shouldn't all fall on you."

Roberto smiled faintly. "Families have a way of doing that."

The corridors were quiet at that hour.

Most of the crew had turned in, and the hum of the ship had settled into a low, steady rhythm—wood, metal, and mana working together as one. Noel walked slowly, boots soft against the reinforced floor, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

He should've felt at ease.

Instead, his thoughts kept circling back.

Family, Roberto had said.

It made sense. Too much sense, maybe. Family arguments were messy, heavy, and rarely logical. People said things they couldn't take back. Lines were drawn where none had existed before.

Still…

Noel stopped near his cabin, resting a hand against the cool wall.

Roberto had spoken as if the choice erased someone completely.

Some doors don't open again.

Noel exhaled slowly. 'You're overthinking,' he told himself. 'Not every family problem has to make sense to you.'

A familiar shadow shifted beside him.

Noir's head emerged from the darkness near the ceiling beam, eyes faintly glowing. 'You're pacing,' he noted.

"I'm thinking," Noel replied quietly.

'That's not good.'

Noel almost smiled.

"It's nothing," he said. "Just… Roberto. He's dealing with some family stuff."

Noir tilted his head. 'And that bothers you?'

"No," Noel said immediately. Then paused. "…Maybe a little."

Noir hopped down lightly, landing without a sound. He sniffed the air once, ears twitching.

'You smelled doubt tonight.'

Noel frowned. "I smelled concern."

'Same thing, dad.'

Noel leaned back against the wall, eyes closing briefly. "He's my best friend," he said. "If he says it's family, then it's family."

Noir studied him in silence.

'Some people change when they're cornered,' he said at last. 'Even by things they love.'

Noel opened his eyes. "You think he's hiding something?"

Noir's tail flicked once. 'Everyone hides something.'

That answer didn't help.

Noel shook his head. "I'm not going to start doubting him over nothing. We're heading into dangerous territory. I need my head clear."

Noir didn't argue. He simply melted back into the shadows.

As Noel stepped into his cabin, the ship gave a low, almost imperceptible tremor.

Noel paused.

For just a moment, the mana in the air felt… tense.

He looked toward the ceiling, toward the unseen sea above.

"Yeah," he murmured to no one. "I'm definitely overthinking."

Morning came quietly.

A pale, cold light spilled across the deck as the ship continued its steady course north. The air carried a sharper bite than the day before, enough to leave a thin sting on exposed skin. Frost clung faintly to the metal railings, vanishing as quickly as it formed.

Noel stood near the starboard side, arms resting loosely against the railing, watching the sea roll beneath them.

"We're getting close to the Iskandar Peaks," Marcus said as he joined him, stretching his arms overhead. "You can feel it in the air."

Noel lifted his gaze.

Far on the horizon, barely visible through the morning haze, jagged white shapes pierced the sky—distant, towering, and unmistakable. Snow-covered peaks rose like broken teeth against the pale blue, massive enough to dwarf anything around them.

"…Yeah," Noel said quietly. "Hard to miss those."

"They say once you pass them, the sea changes," Marcus went on, tone casual. "Currents get weird. Weather stops making sense."

"Sounds comforting."

Marcus grinned. "Very."

For a while, they stood in silence, watching the ship cut through the water. The crew moved with practiced ease around them, sails adjusting, ropes tightening. This far out, everything felt slower. Heavier.

Marcus broke the quiet.

"You want me to tell you something interesting to pass the time?"

Noel glanced at him. "That depends. Is it actually interesting, or is it one of your 'facts'?"

"Hey. My facts are premium quality." Marcus leaned on the railing. "But honestly, we've got a whole crew here. Bet they've got stories."

Noel exhaled a small laugh. "You mean rumors."

"Exactly. The best kind." Marcus nodded toward a pair of sailors coiling rope nearby. "People who sail these routes always know things. Places to avoid. Stuff no map bothers writing down."

Noel considered it. "Could be useful."

"And if not," Marcus added, "it's better than standing here pretending we're not thinking about what's waiting for us."

Noel didn't answer right away. Then he nodded once.

"Alright," he said. "Let's hear what they know."

Marcus smiled, satisfied, and pushed off the railing. "I'll go find someone talkative."

As he walked off, Noel stayed where he was, eyes drifting back to the Iskandar Peaks. They loomed in the distance—silent, immovable, hiding whatever lay beyond them.

The Northern Isles were still far away.

Some time passed.

The ship maintained its steady pace, sails full, the wind favorable. The sun climbed higher, thinning the morning chill but never quite chasing it away. Noel had lost track of how long he'd been watching the Iskandar Peaks when a familiar voice cut through the rhythm of the deck.

"Noel!"

He looked up.

Marcus was standing on the upper platform near the helm, one hand raised. Beside him stood the captain.

"Up here," Marcus called. "You'll want to hear this."

Noel made his way up the steps, boots echoing softly against the reinforced planks. Elyra was already there, arms crossed, gaze attentive as she studied the older man at the helm.

"This is Captain Gustave," she said quietly as Noel approached. "One of the most experienced sailors in Estermont service."

The captain inclined his head slightly. He was well past his prime, hair streaked with gray, skin weathered by decades of wind and salt. His posture, however, was straight, his hands steady on the wheel.

"I've sailed these waters longer than most have been alive," Gustave said, voice calm and even. "If you're heading north, it's better to listen than to rush."

Marcus leaned against the railing, grinning. "See? Talkative."

Gustave ignored him.

"You see those peaks?" the captain continued, nodding toward the distant Iskandar range. "They're the last honest landmark. After that, maps start lying."

Noel's brow furrowed slightly. "Lying how?"

"Routes shift," Gustave replied. "Currents pull sideways. Fog forms where it shouldn't. Islands appear, then aren't there the next time you pass."

"Magic?" Elyra asked.

"Partly," Gustave said. "Partly old things that never left."

He glanced at Noel then, eyes sharp despite his age.

"Ships that survive the Northern Isles do so by respecting them," Gustave went on. "You don't force a path. You wait for one."

Marcus let out a low whistle. "That ominous, huh?"

Gustave allowed himself a thin smile. "Ominous keeps you alive."

Noel rested a hand against the railing, listening carefully. These weren't the words of a man telling legends to scare green sailors. They were observations. Warnings earned the hard way.

"The sea up there isn't hostile," the captain added. "It's patient. It watches. And when it moves… it does so with purpose."

Elyra exchanged a brief glance with Noel.

"Thank you for telling us," she said. "We'll keep that in mind."

Gustave nodded once. "Do that."

The conversation drifted into silence, broken only by the creak of the wheel and the steady rush of water against the hull.

Captain Gustave returned his full attention to the course, eyes fixed ahead. Marcus stretched once and muttered something about getting food, already halfway down the steps.

Elyra lingered beside Noel.

"The captain's not exaggerating," she said quietly. "These waters don't follow rules. We'll need to be ready for sudden changes."

Noel nodded. "We will be."

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