His heart slammed painfully against his ribs as he shifted his grip, fingers brushing her wrist, her neck—anywhere he could feel for a heartbeat, even one.

Then—

A weak cough.

Ryn sucked in a sharp breath, almost choking on it as he hauled her higher against his chest.

"Amelia," he said, voice breaking despite himself. "Hey, stay with me."

Her eyelids fluttered.

"…Ryn…?" she murmured.

"I'm here," he said immediately. "I've got you."

Only then did he look down.

Blood trailed into the water in thin, drifting lines. He followed them to her legs—and felt his stomach drop.

Splintered wood jutted from the sides of her thigh, several pieces were ingrained, some shallow while others deep enough to almost completely disappear within.

Ryn's grip tightened instinctively, panic clawing up his throat.

A part of him felt relieved, that she hadn't taken any critical damage, while the other half wasn't.

Blood in open water was never just blood.

The sea around them felt vast now, and too quiet after everything just went down.

Ryn forced himself to turn his head, scanning the dark surface beyond the wreckage. Broken planks bobbed nearby, but the mist made it hard to make out anything beyond.

That scared him more than seeing something would have.

Just endless water stretching in every direction.

He adjusted his hold, angling Amelia so her legs stayed above the surface as much as he could manage, even as the cold seeped deeper into his limbs.

Then, a voice broke through the silence.

"—Over here!"

Ryn snapped his head toward the sound.

A lifeboat pushed through the debris, oars slamming unevenly against the water as it fought the swell. Another followed close behind, battered but intact.

Relief hit him so hard his hands nearly slipped.

"Hadrik," he breathed.

The first boat reached them just as a wave rolled through. Hadrik leaned over the side, eyes sharp as they took in Amelia's condition.

"Careful," the dwarf barked. "Slow—slow!"

Ryn lifted Amelia as gently as he could, arms trembling as the crew hauled her aboard. She cried out softly as her feet cleared the water, blood dripping freely now that the pressure was gone.

Ryn climbed in after her, barely noticing the cold as he knelt beside her.

Someone pressed cloth against her wounds immediately. Another wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"She'll live," Hadrik said after a quick glance. "Hurts like hell, though."

He didn't answer.

More lifeboats drifted in.

One by one, survivors were pulled from the sea—some coughing violently while others stayed silent and down. A few needed to be dragged the last distance, limbs stiff with cold and eyes unfocused.

Ryn watched them come in.

He counted without meaning to.

Each time a body was lifted over the side, his gaze flicked up instinctively. Searching for glasses, flowing brown hair, or piercing blue eyes.

None.

The water grew quieter as the last lifeboat arrived.

His legs felt distant as he stepped back, letting the crew finish securing Amelia. He scanned the boats again, slower this time, more deliberate.

"Captain," he said.

Hadrik looked up from where he was barking orders, exhaustion lining his face. "Aye?"

"Where are the others?" Ryn asked. "My party."

The dwarf followed his gaze, eyes moving across the lifeboats, then the wreckage beyond. His brow furrowed.

"Sorry lad," Hadrik said after a moment. "I don't know."

Ryn's stomach dropped.

"What do you mean you don't know," he said quietly.

"When the ship went under, visibility was awful," Hadrik replied. "People were dragged in every direction. We pulled out who we could."

He paused, then added carefully.

"We counted the bodies."

Ryn didn't move.

"And?" he asked.

"They weren't among them."

The words caused him to exhale softly, releasing a breath that he didn't even know he was holding.

Ryn nodded once, slow and controlled.

"You're sure."

"Aye," Hadrik said. "Checked twice. Lost enough today without making mistakes."

Ryn turned away.

The sea stretched endlessly around them, dark and indifferent. Debris drifted farther apart now, the last traces of the ship already dissolving into the waves.

If they weren't recovered…

Then they were somewhere else.

And all Ryn could do was hope that they were safe.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, then opened them again.

"Let me know if anything changes," he said.

Hadrik nodded. "You'll be the first."

Ryn returned to Amelia's side and lowered himself beside her once more.

She shifted weakly beneath the blanket, eyes fluttering open just enough to find him.

"…They're alive," she murmured, voice hoarse.

Ryn didn't ask how she knew.

"Yes," he said. "They are."

For now.

Hadrik watched the exchange in silence, then let out a low breath.

"We can worry about missing people later," he said, voice rough but steady. "Right now, we need to worry about the ones we've got."

Ryn looked up.

"With no ship, no map, and in this fog?" Hadrik continued. "We drift too far out and we won't see another soul for weeks—if we're lucky.

The lifeboat rocked gently beneath them, the ocean stretching endlessly in every direction.

"Food's limited," Hadrik added. "Water too. These boats weren't meant for travel. They're meant for waiting."

Ryn's fingers curled slowly at his side.

"And if we aren't?" he asked.

Hadrik didn't dodge the question.

"Then we starve," he said simply. "Or freeze. Or both."

The bluntness settled over the group like another layer of cold.

Ryn nodded once.

"Alright," he said. "What's our best option?"

Then he saw the light reflected through Hadrik's eyes, before the man himself pointed in the same direction.

"That."

Ryn's breath caught.

A ship.

They could barely make out the shape covered in fog, yet that one light was their hope.

However, it was far enough to just as easily pass them by.

"…We don't have a flare," someone muttered.

Ryn checked anyway, patting his coat, then the emergency kit strapped beneath the bench. Empty. The signal packs had gone down with the ship.

No flares, or horns, or even a mirror to try something.

Hadrik swore under his breath.

"At that range, they won't see us," he said. "Not unless they're already looking."

Ryn stared at the distant vessel, jaw tightening.

So close.

And still unreachable.

"I can do it."

The voice was soft—but unmistakable.

Ryn turned sharply.

Amelia was pushing herself upright, teeth clenched as pain flashed across her face. The blanket slipped from her shoulders as she planted one hand against the bench.

"Amelia—no," Ryn said immediately.

She shook her head, breath shallow but steady. "I don't need to move," she said. "Just… let me see the sky."

Ryn was already beside her, one hand on her shoulder. "You're hurt. You've lost blood."

"I know," she replied. "That's why it has to be now."

Hadrik hesitated. "Lass, Essence drain in your state—"

"If we wait, they'll pass us."

She met Ryn's eyes as she said it.

Ryn didn't even need to search her face. He already knew the pain, exhaustion, and tremor she was forcing down through sheer will.

He hated that she was right.

"…One spell," he said finally. "Nothing more."

Amelia nodded. That was all she needed.

She drew a slow breath in, then another, lifting her trembling hand toward the open sky.

The air around her palm shimmered faintly with heat before finally blasting up into the sky.

The spell cracked softly as it rose, pale gold against the gray sky, climbing higher than any flare ever could.

Amelia gasped as the light faded, her arm dropping immediately as the strength left her.

Ryn caught her before she could slump forward, pulling her back against his chest.

"…Did it work?" she whispered.

Ryn didn't answer right away.

All eyes were on the horizon.

Seconds passed.

Then—

The distant ship nudged, ever-so-slightly in their direction.

"Yes," he said quietly. "It worked."

Amelia smiled faintly before her eyes finally closed, exhaustion taking her at last.

Ryn held her tighter as the lifeboat drifted on.

Everything else fell away.

The Hero's Path didn't matter right now. Reputation and momentum, all of it had been wiped clean from his head.

Things had already gone wrong, spectacularly so.

He couldn't afford to chase meaning in it—not yet. Meaning came later, when they were all safe.

For now, all that mattered was this.

Getting out alive.

Ryn lifted his gaze.

Above them, the sky was wrong.

Fog pressed low and heavy, swallowing the stars before they could even exist.

It wasn't natural—not the way clouds moved, not the way night should open. It reminded him too much of something else. Of a sky that didn't belong to the world it covered.

Black and suffocating, one that spelled out the doom of humanity.

His jaw tightened.

"…Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

Not in fear, but anger.

The sea rocked gently beneath them, uncaring, patient. Ryn adjusted his grip on Amelia and stared upward, committing the feeling to memory.

The helplessness, the cold, the desperation…

Fine.

If the world wanted to take from him, then he'd keep standing anyway.

He'd live through this.

And when he did, he'd make sure the Cult got what they deserved.

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