Morning light spilled across the Whisper Tide's deck, painting the weathered planks gold while seabirds wheeled overhead with the sort of aimless purpose that suggested breakfast might involve whatever the humans had been careless enough to leave unattended.

Captain Levinia spread a salt-stained chart across a crate, her calloused fingers tracing coastal landmarks with the authority of someone who'd navigated these waters through storms that had earned names and reputations.

"Siltshore lies here," she said, tapping a sheltered inlet marked with the symbol for fishing boats. "Two hours' sailing with favorable winds."

Nasir nodded, consulting his own collection of maps—documents that appeared to have been drawn by cartographers with access to information not typically available to people bound by conventional geography.

"From there, the inland routes remain clear. The Silent Hand's attention will be focused on major ports for some time."

Ember studied the coastal chart while nursing a cup of tea that tasted like seaweed had been convinced to masquerade as something potable. The headache that came with being four instead of five had intensified overnight, a persistent pressure behind her temples that made concentration challenging.

"We need to split up," she decided, gesturing toward the shadowsteel box where the corrupted book sat contained. "This needs to reach Galen before the corruption spreads further."

"Split up?" Kindle's eyebrows threatened to disappear into her bangs. "We don't split up. That's literally the first rule of staying alive—never separate the group! And in case you forgot, the last time we separated, we—"

Ember covered Kindle's mouth with her hand and dragged her away from the crew. She motioned for the other two to form a huddle.

"We can't discuss certain logistics in front of company," Ember said quietly, glancing toward where Nasir stood examining his maps with the sort of casual interest that suggested he was definitely listening. "But yes, we need to divide our efforts. The book degrades every hour we delay, and Khroma's condition isn't improving either."

"But the curse! Remember?" Kindle continued. "Even if one of us is more than a mile from the others, bad things could happen again!"

"That was before we got transported to another world," Ember pointed out. "The symptoms aren't so bad now compared to before... relatively."

"A lot of bad stuff happens 'relatively,'" Kindle grumbled.

"Look," Ember laid a hand on Kindle's shoulder, "I don't think the curse works the same here as at home. No more... what do you call it... ah, 'exponentially worse.'"

"Are we sure?" Cinder cut in. "Because I don't feel a difference."

Ember met their skeptical gazes with what she hoped was reassuring confidence. "Trust me on this, yeah? If it starts to really get bad, then we'll regroup up again, right, right?"

Kindle stared at her for a long moment before releasing a breath. "Fine, but I've got serious reservations about this."

"So do I," Cinder muttered, frowning.

Ember looked at Pyra, who shrugged, as if saying, "You're the boss."

They returned to the group, Ember giving Nasir an apologetic smile. "We good, you good?"

Nasir looked them over, then said without a hint of mirth, "I distinctly remember hearing the word 'curse.'"

"Nevermind that," she responded. "So the plan is for me and Cinder to deliver the tome to Galen ASAP. But we also need to help out our interdimen—err, extraplanar friend 'cause it's not looking so good."

The entity's form had stabilized somewhat during their sea voyage, but occasional energy surges suggested its containment remained temporary.

"Ah," Nasir produced another map from his collection, this one depicting mountainous terrain marked with crystalline symbols. "The Shrine of Resonance. Built upon a natural confluence of dimensional currents, perfectly suited for stabilizing beings whose existence spans multiple planes of reality."

Pyra peered at the map with interest, though her attention kept drifting to mathematical equations that definitely hadn't originated in her own mind. "How far is this shrine exactly? Because I'm having thoughts about optimal travel vectors and that's really not normal for me."

"Three days' travel east through the mountain passes," Nasir replied. "Though the shrine itself responds to intention as much as physical approach. Clear purpose smooths the path considerably."

"That's about as helpful as suggesting water flows downhill," Cinder muttered.

The planning continued through the morning as the Whisper Tide carved a steady course north along the coast. Captain Levinia maintained their heading for Siltshore, guiding the ship expertly through shallow reefs that would have outwitted a navigator without her coastal experience.

Siltshore announced itself as a collection of weathered buildings clustered around a natural harbor, the sort of settlement that existed because fish lived in the water and people lived on land, and someone had to facilitate introductions between the two groups. Fishing boats bobbed at anchor while gulls provided editorial commentary on the morning's catch.

"Discrete, well-supplied, and sufficiently remote that unusual departures won't attract immediate attention," Nasir observed as they approached the docks. "Perfect for your purposes."

The Whisper Tide secured mooring at one of the simpler docks. Captain Levinia saw them off from the deck, hands on hips, with what might have been a wave or a gentle threat to never return. The group wasn't sure but weren't eager to ask.

"This is where we part ways," Nasir announced, shouldering a pack that presumably contained more mysterious documents and convenient solutions to problems that hadn't occurred yet. "Your business with Galen and the shrine both require approaches I cannot facilitate."

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Ember extended her hand formally. "Thank you for the assistance. I don't entirely trust you, but I appreciate the convenient solutions to impossible problems."

"The finest compliment a Mercandi can receive," Nasir replied, accepting the handshake with a slight bow. "I expect we'll meet again, under circumstances equally unusual but perhaps less actively pursued by shadow-wielding fanatics."

Cinder stepped forward. "Will you tell us if you figure out what the Puppetmaster wanted with the tome?"

"If our paths cross again, certainly. Knowledge shared is knowledge multiplied, after all." Nasir's smile held genuine warmth beneath its calculated charm. "Until then, I trust you'll continue to make the world more interesting through your mere existence."

He departed with Captain Levinia, the pair discussing navigation routes and cargo manifests with the easy familiarity of people who'd worked together before. The Whisper Tide cast off within the hour, leaving the four women standing on Siltshore's weathered pier with their gear and their increasingly urgent need to address their numerical deficit.

"Right," Ember said, watching the ship disappear beyond the harbor mouth. "First priority—we need privacy."

They acquired rooms at the Anchor's Rest—an establishment whose proprietor had clearly learned not to ask complicated questions about guests who paid in advance and kept their conversations to reasonable volumes. The four climbed stairs that creaked with decades of salt air and settled into adjacent chambers that offered basic comfort and, more importantly, privacy.

"The headache's getting worse," Kindle admitted, rubbing her temples. "Plus I keep having thoughts about thermodynamic equilibrium. That's definitely not normal."

"I've been calculating optimal flame dispersal patterns," Pyra agreed. "Mathematics! Actual mathematics with numbers and everything!"

Cinder nodded grimly. "We need to fix this before one of us starts lecturing strangers about the philosophical implications of existence."

"After dark," Ember decided. "The beach north of the village should be empty by then. Far enough from curious eyes, and sand doesn't burn."

They waited until evening settled over Siltshore, when the fishing boats had returned and the villagers had retreated to their homes for supper and evening conversations. The four slipped out of the Anchor's Rest and made their way along the coast, following the shoreline until Siltshore's lights became distant pinpricks behind them.

The beach stretched ahead in both directions, empty except for waves that whispered against the sand with methodical persistence. No witnesses, no flammable structures, just open space under a sky scattered with stars.

"Here," Ember said, stopping where the beach widened into a natural cove. The nearest building was a mile behind them, while driftwood and seaweed marked the high tide line well beyond their chosen spot.

They arranged themselves in a rough square on the packed sand, each standing where the positioning felt balanced. The sound of waves provided natural cover for whatever noise their process might generate.

"Same as before," Ember instructed. "Channel toward the center, focus on Ash's essence, and try not to create a lighthouse-visible beacon."

"No promises," Pyra said, raising her hands toward the center of their formation.

The fire that erupted was hotter and more intense than usual, fueled by Ash's redistributed essence. Heat spiraled upward in a controlled vortex that lit the beach like a bonfire, casting dancing shadows that stretched toward the water's edge.

Within the swirling heat, something began to take shape—the suggestion of human form rendered in light and energy. The process felt familiar now, like muscle memory written in fire and shared consciousness.

"She's coming through," Ember confirmed, and they pushed harder.

The fire tornado narrowed, condensing around the half-formed shape at its center. For a heartbeat it burned bright enough to leave afterimages, then collapsed inward with a sound like air rushing to fill a vacuum.

Ash stood on the sand, looking exactly as she had before her dissolution except for being completely dry and, like all post-revival manifestations, entirely naked.

She blinked twice, adjusting to having dedicated vision again. "The experiential separation between distributed consciousness and individual awareness contains several phenomenological inconsistencies that—"

"Welcome back," Ember interrupted, tossing her a bundle of clothes. "Philosophy later, clothes now."

Ash accepted the garments without breaking her train of thought. "The water elemental possessed remarkably complex internal architecture. Its molecular organization suggested intelligence beyond mere animation magic."

"You can tell us about your drowning experience after you're dressed," Cinder said.

"Dissolution, technically." Ash pulled on a shirt while continuing to process her recent experience of existing as distributed consciousness. "Though I suppose the end result would be similar for conventional organisms."

She completed dressing while the others watched waves erase the scorch marks their process had left in the sand. The beach returned to its natural state, leaving no evidence of supernatural activities beyond the lingering smell of superheated air.

"How do you feel?" Kindle asked as they began walking back toward Siltshore's distant lights.

"Coherent," Ash replied after a moment's consideration. "Individual identity maintains remarkable resilience even when distributed across multiple vessels. Though the experience of existing simultaneously in four different cognitive frameworks provided fascinating insights into the nature of consciousness itself."

"Spare us the lecture," Pyra said, though her tone held genuine relief. "Just glad you're back. Having your thoughts mixed with mine was getting weird."

"Your thoughts are always weird," Cinder pointed out.

"Yeah, but they're my weird. Foreign weird is just... weird weird."

They returned to the Anchor's Rest through empty streets, the persistent headaches finally fading as their shared consciousness returned to its preferred configuration. The late evening air carried scents of salt, fish, and the sort of peaceful mundanity that seemed impossibly distant to five women who'd learned that their presence typically resulted in interesting complications for everyone involved.

Dawn found them at Siltshore's edge, making final preparations for journeys that would test both their individual capabilities and their comfort with separation. The morning mist hung over the harbor like cotton batting, muffling the sounds of fishing boats preparing for another day of negotiating with the sea.

"Two groups," Ember decided, consulting Nasir's maps spread across a driftwood log that had been repurposed as a planning table. "Cinder, Ash, and I take the book to Amaranth. Pyra and Kindle escort Khroma to the shrine."

"I'm sorry," Kindle interrupted, "are you deliberately giving Pyra and me the 'mysterious ancient shrine in the wilderness' adventure while you three get 'bureaucratic meeting with creepy wizard'?"

"Would you prefer explaining to Galen how we accidentally let shadow corruption spread through his research?" Cinder asked.

"Point taken. Mysterious shrine it is."

Pyra carefully secured Khroma's lantern in a padded travel pack, the entity's essence pulsing with what might have been anticipation or anxiety. "Don't worry," she told the crystalline container. "If ancient shrines could kill us, we'd already be dead by now."

"That logic is simultaneously comforting and deeply flawed," Ash observed.

"That's how we roll," Ember agreed, shouldering her pack. "Ready?"

They exchanged mutual assurances, some more enthusiastic than others, then went their separate ways: one group into the coastal fog that cloaked the northern mountains, and the other toward the rough inland roads that led to Amaranth, and whatever complications waited within.

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