CHAPTER FIFTEEN
❛ 𝙾𝙽 𝙶𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴 ❜

         THE MOMENT THE SUN RISES, Marya is already inside her cabin, carefully selecting what items she'll be taking with her to Os Alta.

         Bullets, for starters. Lots of them.

         She fixes her belt around her waist, a few hand-stitched pouches hanging from its sides. They're all stuffed with diverse contents: one has valerian petals, one has her last remains of clovers, one has a powder Emerens fashioned with metal shards fixed into it. All different, all for varying purposes.

         "I don't think you have enough bullets on you," Neyar comments, tapping her foot against the floor in a rhythmic manner.

         "Neither do I," she says, "but I don't think I can walk into Os Alta with a bag of ammunition over my shoulder."

         "It's better to be safe than sorry," Neyar retorts, and Marya knows it can't be helped. Given the long and arduous war that has existed between the Shu and Ravkan border, it's no surprise Neyar isn't the Crown's biggest fan. In all fairness, neither is she.

         "Do you trust him?" Emerens asks, watching Marya with an indecipherable look in his gray eyes.

         "I do," she answers with a conviction that sits oddly with her.

         "That's a mistake," Emerens sighs, fingers toying with one of his silver rings. "But it's your call to make."

         Marya shoots him a look. "You just don't like him."

         "Of course I don't. Have you met him?"

         Neyar snorts, sitting on one of Marya's chairs with her legs propped up against her table. She tilts her head back, meeting her gaze from over the back of her seat. "He's jealous Ravi likes him better."

         Something clatters against the table. Emerens scowls. "He does not like him better." Neyar raises a brow. A beat passes. "I've given him candy before!" he justifies defensively.

         "You've offered him alcohol."

         He waves her off in annoyance. "Same difference, Ney."

         She grinds her teeth at the nickname. Neyar straightens on her seat, pulling her legs off the table to face him properly. "Why are you like this?"

         He clicks his tongue, considering it. "Spite, mostly. Hubris."

         "Ah."

         "Alright," Marya exhales loudly, fixing with her belt for what might just be the seventh time. Both Emerens and Neyar turn to her with expressions that read as if she's the one interrupting their conversation. "I think I'm ready."

         "Is it time already?" Neyar asks, brows shooting up.

         Marya nods, inhaling sharply. She fixes her belt and her pouches one last time. "Yeah. Time to go."

         The door behind her creaks, and the voice that comes from it sounds unbelievably small.

"You're leaving again?"

         Marya's stomach drops as she turns around. His hand still latches onto the handle, his big brown eyes looking at them with undeniable despair. "Ravi," Marya says, careful to hide her surprise, "when did you—"

         "If you're leaving," he says with a start, face oddly serious for a seven year old, "I wanna go with you."

         Marya vaguely hears Emerens excusing himself, with Neyar following in tow. The door clicks softly behind Ravi.

Marya licks her lips, lowering herself to his level. "It's not that easy, mejo." She tilts her head, picking up Ravi's hand. "I'll be back again— but this time, I'll be back with Karim." A soft smile curls onto her lips as she trails her thumb on his palm. "Don't you wanna see him again?"

         "Yeah," Ravi says quietly, but his brows are furrowed together, his lips pulled into a pout. He blinks up at her with something akin to confusion swimming in his brown eyes. "Why can't I come too?"

         "Because things work differently in places like Os Alta," she explains carefully. Brown hair, brown skin, brown eyes. "They're not really fond of people like us."

         Ravi's frown deepens. "They don't like pirates?"

         Marya exhales with a smile, watching the boy with warm eyes. How does one explain to a seven year old that Ravka has been everything but kind to their people? That the people sitting at the throne have stolen their land, their home? Marya shakes her head. "Yeah— that's it." She tucks one curl behind his ear. "But listen— I'll be back before you know it. And once I return with Karim, the two of you'll be able to go to Novyi Zem together. Doesn't that sound good?"

         Marya expects him to nod, to smile, to agree. Because Novyi Zem is his home. Because Novyi Zem is safe. She doesn't expect him to start furrowing his brows, lips twisting and expression souring. "What?" he asks, and Marya cannot place his tone. Confused, maybe, in disbelief. Ravi shakes his head vehemently. "No— no, I wanna stay. I wanna stay with you."

         "Ravi—"

         "No!" He yanks his hand away from hers, and Marya realizes this is the first time she's heard him raising his voice at her. "No, you always do this!"

         The sternness of her tone mixes with surprise. "Ravi."

         "It's not fair!" he shouts, and Marya's whole body freezes. Ravi takes a step back from her, bunching his hands into fists. "I've been good, I've been so good!" Tears start to prick his eyes. He angrily starts to wipe them with more strength that he should. When he looks up at her, she sees too many emotions sitting on those big eyes of his. He's angry, he's confused, he's hurt. "Why don't you want me to stay with you?"

         Her face falls. "Oh, sunshine," she murmurs, offering her arms. He curls against her shoulder, his sniffles racking her body.

         "I wanna stay, I wanna stay," he cries into her coat, and Marya holds him a little tighter.

She can't find the words to speak. Her throat is closed as a cold, horrible feeling creeps up her spine. Stones lodge against her gut. All she can do is place her head over his, as if that could shield them both from what's happening. Over his shoulder, Marya meets Karim's familiar brown gaze.

         "You're breaking his heart," Karim says quietly from across the room. Unlike other times, he doesn't look too inclined to talk. He keeps his distance from them, watching from Marya's hammock.

Marya looks at Karim. Help me, she wants to say. What do I do? But Karim turns away, shaking his head.

         She swallows. "Mejo," she tries, pulling away from Ravi. Tears stick to his cheeks, leaving a wet trail behind. "You've seen how dangerous things can get out here. I don't want you getting caught in any of this."

         "But I'm learning!" he protests in a shaky voice, wiping his eyes a little too forcefully. "Tamar told me I could become a great Heartrender if I train."

         Marya gently reaches for his wrist, pulling his hand down from his eyes. Then, ever so tenderly, she wipes his tears with the pads of her thumbs. "But you should train somewhere safe." Somewhere like Novyi Zem. Away from this. Away from her. She tries to smile. "Didn't you say you liked learning from Karim?"

         He shakes his head, another sniffle wracking his body. "I don't want to learn from him anymore. I want to learn from you." His face cracks again, lips quivering.

         "I'm not a good teacher," she says, and she knows it's a lousy excuse.

         "But I'm a good student!" he tries again, and Marya looks up at the ceiling for a moment. All Saints, don't make this harder than it has to be. "Tolya said so."

         Marya inhales and exhales sharply, before abruptly standing up. "Ravi, we are not having this discussion now." She works her jaw, as she reaches for another knife left discarded on her table. She's facing away from him when she adds, "You'll be safer there than you ever will be here."

         "Maybe I don't want to be safe!" he shouts angrily. "I'm so sick of being safe!" His entire body heaves, as if an earthquake is growing between his ribs. Tears of frustration make his eyes glassy and red. "You're never safe. Why should I be?"

         Marya slams her hand against her desk. "Because I need you to be!" she yells, brown finally meeting brown. Her frustration evaporates the moment she realizes she's raised her voice at him. Standing up, Ravi looks smaller than ever.

         Ravi stiffens, and Marya wants to blink and take it back. But she's a Captain first— and a Captain knows to stand her ground.

"I don't want to go back," he says, voice small and weak. Then, as if pushed by something stronger, he screams, "I don't want to! You can't make me!" Then, with his whole body shaking and his fists curled tight, Ravi glares up at her through teary eyes. "I hope you never find him!"

His words feel like a slap to her face. She loses her breath, her sense of direction, and the compass inside her chest is left spinning wildly.

Take it back. Take it back. Take it back. The phrase repeats in her mind like a mantra. A part of her— the foolish, naïve child inside of her wants to chase after the words, try to catch them in her hands before it's too late. Because words have an impact— and once they're out in the world, there's no telling the damage they might cause.

I hope you never find him. The ground beneath her feet feels unstable, waves trying to swallow her whole. She can barely register the door slamming closed. She wants to throw up. She's going to throw up.

         "You could've handled that better," Karim says. Marya's head snaps up, and the world tumbles around her. He meets Marya's gaze with a disappointed curl of his lips. "You know I would've."

         "Stop—" Marya raises her hand, an acid feeling clawing up her throat. "Stop talking."

         "I didn't say anything."

The world spins again, and Emerens is standing by the door frame, unreadable expression on his face.

         "I didn't mean—" The world stabilizes for a moment, and Marya takes it as a chance to sit down. "Damn it to hell," she curses, taking in deep breaths. I hope you never find him.
"Where's Neyar?"

         "She went after Ravi." Marya can feel her Second's eyes burning into her back. The silence between them feels asphyxiating. Her lungs feel empty. Emerens clears his throat quietly. "You know he didn't mean it, Marya."

Marya inhales again, eyes feeling hot beneath her eyelids. Get a grip, she thinks. Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip.

         "I realize you might not be the best person to ask this to, but I need you to be honest, Emerens." She raises her head, meeting his gray eyes with something that startles him. "What am I doing wrong?"

         Marya sees the moment he swallows his snarky response, the moment he understands the severity of her situation. "He's a kid, Marya. He'll get over it."

         "I don't think he will." She laughs bitterly, frustratedly. "He's right, too. I've been leaving him back on land for my sake." She bites the inside of her cheek until she feels the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. "I— I didn't think he'd notice."

         Emerens sits on the chair opposite to her. "Yes, you did." He leans forward, offering what she guesses is an attempt at a comforting smile. "You just hoped you'd have a better excuse by the time he started asking questions."

         Marya presses her fingers against her temple. "I was older than he was, you know." She doesn't need to say it for him to understand. When she was taken. When her future was stolen from her hands. When she had to first face a world of teeth and claws. His jaw tightens when she meets his gaze. "I was thirteen. He's seven."

         "I don't think I need to be the one to tell you that you haven't exactly lived the most traditional of lives, Marya."

         "Neither has he." And that's the problem, isn't it? "I..." her throat tightens, and she averts her eyes, away from Emerens's watchful gaze. "I don't want him to get hurt. I don't want him to get caught in these messes— not while he has a chance at a somewhat normal life."

         Emerens sighs. "And that's your decision to make— but it doesn't mean he'll like it." He reaches for his canteen and pops the lid off. He offers it to her, and she takes it without a moment to think about it. The kick of alcohol does nothing to ease the tightness in her chest. "The crew cares for him either way. He's easy to love."

         Marya huffs a laugh. "I know." And that's the issue, isn't it?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

         BY THE TIME MARYA AND EMERENS join the rest of the crew on the deck, instructions gave been handed out and everyone is on their posts. The Volkvolny rides closer to the Repentance, close enough for her to swing from one onto the other.

         The stones inside Marya's throat make their presence known as she tries to breathe. Emerens shoots her a look, heading in before her. His demeanor is loose and relaxed, and that concerned glint he had in his gray eyes in nowhere to be found. Emerens walks up to Neyar, murmuring something that causes her to cast a quick glance at Marya.

She straightens, watching as Ravi's hand tightens around Neyar's. Emerens says something else Marya doesn't manage to catch, before picking up Ravi onto his arms. Even from the distance, Marya can tell they're still bloodshot.

"I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."

Marya flinches as Sturmhond sidles up besides her. A strange glint flickers across his eyes as his brow twitches. "Right, um," Marya stammers, looking away from the trio.

Sturmhond offers that disarming smile of his, but there is something off about it. "Everything ready then, Captain?"

Marya isn't sure if it's just her, but she can't help but think his words echo oddly. As if what he truly means to ask is something else entirely. Everything okay?

"I—" she hesistates. Why is she hesitating?  Marya clears her throat. "Everything's in order. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Of course," he says with a nod, and there's that strange look in his eye again.

"I'll go say my goodbyes," she says, and she finds it she can't keep her eyes off of them
for too long. She glances at Sturmhond, only to find him looking at Ravi and Emerens as well. Marya bites her tongue. Wait for me on the Volkvolny, she wants to say. Marya doesn't want him to hear, to witness her goodbyes. But ushering him away would be the equivalent of raising flags all around. He'll think she cares. Either way, it's a lose-lose. "Wait here."

Marya walks up to the trio, watching as Ravi says something to Neyar that makes her smile and mess with his hair. Unconsciously, she wipes her hands on her pants.

"Alright," she says, hoping it doesn't sound nearly as strained as it feels. "We're ready."

Neyar nods firmly. "I'll see you there." She steps away, probably heading towards the rigging to make the swing between ships.

"Why am I getting a feeling of deja vu?" Emerens tilts his head as he holds Ravi over his shoulders. Marya chuckles, but it lacks any real humor.

"I don't plan on making this a habit, if that's what you're worried about."

"I wouldn't mind," he says nonchalantly. "I'd make great Captain."

This time, the laugh that escapes Marya is genuine. "Yeah, right," she scoffs with a smile, "just don't get too comfortable."

"I'll make no such promise." Emerens' teasing look melts a little as he glances at the boy sitting over his shoulders.

Marya feels it before he even says it. "You don't h—"

"Hey, kid," Emerens interrupts, looking up at Ravi. The boy leans forward, hands on the Alkemi's head. "Don't you wanna say goodbye?" He asks, but Ravi's jaw tightens as he makes a point to look away. Emerens exhales, offering Marya a closed-lipped apologetic look. "Sorry, Cap."

         "It's okay," she says, even when it doesn't feel like it. She tries to meet Ravi's gaze, but this time he focuses his attention on the back of Emerens' head. If her heart breaks a little, she ignores it. He's used to watching you leave— are you really surprised?

Marya meets Emerens' gaze evenly. "Zorg voor hem," she says in her best attempt at Kerch. Look after him.

         Emerens nods. "Always."

         She clears her throat. "Did Neyar tell you the plan?" He nods, and her chest feels a little lighter. Three weeks. If they don't hear from her by then, then they have her approval to go find her. She doesn't think it'll come to that, but it's never hurt to be cautious.

         "Anything else...?"

"Look after Raziya's arm— there's a salve I left for her burns, but if there's any broken bones or internal bruising left, you're gonna have to figure it out as you go. Don't go in my cabin unless it's extenuating circumstances. Don't pick fights with Angus. Don't—"

"I shouldn't have asked. I see that now."

"Don't be a smartass."

"Duly noted."

A sharp whistle shrills from the foredeck, making them both turn. There, she spots Jira and Damien sitting. Jira grins widely, and tucking away the food she'd been eating, she calls out, "Ready to set sail, Captain?"

         "Just try not to miss me too much."

         Jira throws her thumb over at the Ravkan boy next to her. "Damien here is close to tears, y'know— so tread lightly."

         Before Damien can protest, Marya is rolling her eyes with a smile. "I'll keep it in mi—" Her words die in her throat as something reaches around her leg. She looks down to see Ravi's arms wrapped around her, but making a point to stare at the floor instead of her.

         Marya's heart skips a beat in her chest. Then, barely above a murmur, she asks, "Are you here to say goodbye?"

         Ravi refuses to look her in the eye. Instead, he mumbles, "I don't want to."

         "I know you don't, mejo."

         He lets go of her leg, letting her crouch down. "Why do you always have to leave?" he mutters, kicking up a pebble against the deck.

         I have to, she thinks. Instead, she says, "I always come back."

         Once she's at his level, he finally meets her gaze. His brows are pinched together, lips twisted into a scowl. But, underneath it, there's an undeniable sadness there. "It's not fair."

         "Things in life rarely are," she murmurs, more to herself than to him. "When Karim gets back, the three of us are gonna have an important conversation, okay?" He doesn't nod, doesn't agree. "But, for the time being, be good."

         At that, he hesitates. Then, embarrassedly, he stares at the floor. "If I'm not..." he starts slowly, toying his with fingers. "...will you come back sooner?"

         "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, my love." She gently places her hand beneath his chin, slowly tipping up his face. Only then does she notice that his eyes are watering agains

         "I'm sorry," he whispers in a broken, wet voice.

         She shakes her head, and even when his words have cut deep, she finds it she has already forgiven him. "Not sorry. What do we say?"

         He bites his lips, keeping them from quivering. Finally, he lunges for her, wrapping his arms around her neck. And, against her hair, he whispers, "Mati en sheva yelu." A weight drops from her chest. This action will have no echo.

         "I love you," Marya says, wrapping her arms around him.

         His grip around her tightens. Marya buries her face on the crown of his head. "I love you too, Amma."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

         DESPITE HER GROWING HISTORY WITH Sturmhond and his crew, Marya still feels at odds with leaving her people. She knows they are in good hands, that they can handle themselves— but the issue isn't with them. It's with her.

         The Repentance, the crew aboard it are her home— and it will always hurts to leave them behind. Either way, Sturmhond's people aren't strangers. And with their past month spent together, Marya has picked up on a few names, learned to recognize their faces.

         Marya refrains from staring off at the Repentance, but in the end, she can't help it. And so, she stands by the starboard side until her vessel is gone— not a dot in the horizon, but as if it had never been there in the first place.

         "It always hurts to say goodbye," Sturmhond says, leaning besides her.

         Marya doesn't look up at him. Not when her face would give her away. "It won't be long," she says, ignoring the way her heartstrings are pulled inside her chest.

         She inhales sharply, as if bracing herself. Her hand toys with the golden band that sits loosely on her finger. Marya exhales, finally turning towards Sturmhond.

         "If we're gonna be going to Ravka together, then I suppose I should return this." His ring was insurance— she supposes she doesn't need that anymore. But as she goes to remove the emerald ring from her finger, he stops her.

         "Not yet," he says with a lopsided grin. "You can return it once I've held up my end of our bargain."

         Marya raises a brow. Are you sure? She wants to ask. Instead, she says, "If you say so."

         He lets out a little breath with a smile, and Marya gets the distinct feeling he's taking it as a small victory. There's a skip in his step as he swings his body against the railing, letting his green eyes get lost in the everlasting sea.

         Marya watches him curiously. Slowly, his energetic persona seems to settle down —if only for a single moment— as he takes in the sight before him. He inhales deeply, and Marya feels herself doing the same. Ocean air in your lungs. She can't imagine ever having lived without it.

         Marya closes her eyes, turning her face towards the wind. Ravka. She supposes that going back for the first time is bound to lead her down memory lane. Ravka. It was never truly her home— after all, she has always been of the belief that home is not a country, not a piece of land on a map. But as far as the sentiment goes, it was close enough. Marya wonders what may have changed. What stays the same.

         And yet, she can't find it in herself to yearn for Ravka. These days, her heart only yearns for the sea. For the tides, for the winds, for the salt and for the waves.

         "It's all so... beautiful, isn't it?" Sturmhond starts, uncharacteristically quiet— and Marya can't help but think it sounds a lot like the conversation they had a few weeks ago.

         Marya opens her eyes, only to find him still staring at the horizon. "Don't miss it too much," she teases, tapping her hand against the bannister. "We'll be back on these waters before long."

         "Of course," he says, but he looks almost... wistful. As if mourning something he has already lost.

         "Careful there, privateer," Marya begins, "or someone might think you're saying goodbye."

         He chuckles, but doesn't respond. She's tempted to press more, before he turns his head towards her. "You told me you became Captain of your ship at seventeen." He quirks a brow, and the wistful look from seconds ago is nowhere to be found. "How does that happen?"

         "Twists of life." Marya shrugs. "It definitely wasn't a plan of mine, to become... this."

         "You mean a fearsome pirate?" Sturmhond questions. "I thought that was every child's dream."

         Marya scoffs a laugh, darting her tongue over her teeth. "What about you, privateer?This kind of life definitely isn't for everyone." She tips her head towards him. "What led you here?"

         He clicks his tongue. "Well, I've been told I have... ah, restless energy. An intrinsic hate for stillness."

         Restless energy. Those are the same words her mother used to use for her. Little rabbit.

         "Zheka," Marya says. It takes her a second for realization of her slip up to fully register. Her back stiffens.

         "Shekah?" Sturmhond tries in broken Suli. He watches her with that curious glint in his green gaze. "What's that mean?"

         Marya shakes her head, averting her eyes back onto the deck of the Volkvolny. "Ah, it's— it's nothing."

         She feels his gaze lingering, like sunlight warming the side of her face. He clicks his tongue again. "You know," he starts slowly, tentatively, "I've been thinking about what you said, back in the whaler. I'm considering learning a new language, broaden my horizons and all that."

         "Zemeni is a good way to start."

         "Eh. Zemeni is overrated." Now, that makes Marya turn back to him, brows furrowed. She disagrees— but there's a mischievous edge to his voice that confuses her. "I was thinking more of Suli, actually."

         "Suli?" she repeats, her skepticism evident.

         "Why not?" he asks innocently. Marya searches his face, and to her surprise, she doesn't think he's joking. "So, shekah. What's that?"

         Perhaps it's something about the way he says it, or the face he makes as he's saying it. Either way, Marya laughs, quickly hiding her lips behind her palm.

         Sturmhond perks up, grinning. "What?"

         There are still remnants of laughter in her features when she says, "It's zheka. You don't need to drag out the vowels like that."

         "Zheka," he tries again, brows furrowed together. Green meet brown. "Was that better?"

         Yes. "Barely." Sturmhond's grin stretches wider. Marya raises a brow. "What?" she asks. "What are you grinning about?"

         "You're blushing."

         Saints, is she? "Shouldn't you be giving out orders for your crew to drop anchors once we reach Ravka?"

"Anchors?" he repeats, and much to her dismay, that smug demeanor of his does not seem to be going away. "Now, why would we ever need that?"

Marya pauses. Is he being serious? "...Are you feeling okay?"

He grins. "Never better. Follow me."

Despite the confusion brewing in her chest, she follows Sturmhond towards the tail of the boat, where Mal and Alina already stand.

The two of them turn their heads towards the Captains. Sturmhond shoots a signal to one of his Squallers. "You should probably hang onto something. First timers usually struggle once we're up."

"Up?" Alina asks, and Marya can't help but agree. "Up where?"

But the privateer smirks. "You'll see."

"That is... not reassuring at all," Mal protests weakly.

"What's happening?" Neyar asks as she approaches the group, watching as Sturmhond's crew starts moving around, as if making preparations for something.

Marya shakes her head. "Looks like we're about to find out."

"Prepare to decouple!" Sturmhond shouts. He pulls on a lever, and the sails of the mast unfurl against the wind. Kovu, one of his Squallers, raises his hands as he guides the current of air against it.

         Marya and Neyar share a confused look— and it seems Mal and Alina aren't doing any better. Sturmhond, on the other hand, seems to be having the time of his life.

"Engage secondary sail!"

         Marya watches as the sail bends over them as a sort of makeshift roof, gears sliding into place with a loud snap.

         "Why is that—"

         The sails billow up, and Marya stumbles as the ground starts to shake beneath her feet. Not an earthquake. But if it's not one, then what—

         Neyar curses loudly in Shu. Marya hurries over the edge of the vessel. She doesn't quite believe her eyes. They're flying.

         A laugh of pure disbelief bubbles up her throat. She's flying. She's flying.

"Alina, you gotta see this!" Mal calls out.

A really, really pale Sun Summoner clings to one of the seats with a grip that is certain to leave a mark. "No, I really don't."

"No, trust me, you gotta see this!"

The wind whips against Marya's hair, sending her curls flying behind her. Far below them, the sea becomes a glittering canvas that grows more and more distant by the second. Marya laughs again, feeling elated. Blood pumps inside her veins, and her heart feels like it might just burst out of her chest any moment now.

"Saints." She's flying. All those years soaring across open spaces with nothing but a trapeze in hand, spinning above the ground with aerial silks around her body— and now, nine years later, she's actually flying.

Marya lets out a wild holler, excitement buzzing like electricity underneath her skin. She whips her head back, grinning wildly.

Her navigator looks like she's going to throw up.

"Neyar, come on!"

The Shu girl shakes her head stubbornly, holding onto one of the masts with a vise-like grip. "I'm good, thanks." Her dark eyes flick between Marya and the edge of the vessel. Her face pales. "Don't stand so close the edge— please."

"Your loss!" Marya calls out, spinning around as she leans over once again. Soon enough, the deep blue ocean below them is replaced for land— land with trees, mountains and roads. Ravka.

"I must confess," Sturmhond starts as he approaches her by the side. "I wasn't sure whether you were gonna love it or hate it."

Marya feels like a starry-eyed child when she asks, "How's this even possible?"

He offers a lopsided smile. "Years and years of designs, and several dozen crashed prototypes."

"Crashed?" Alina repeats from behind them, making them turn.

"I call her the Hummingbird."

Neyar spits a few words in Shu, probably curses aimed at the privateer, before quickly adding, "I'm gonna throw up."

"Keep it together," Tamar calls. "We're nearly there."

"Captain! The Fold's in sight!" Tolya shouts out.

Every single person aboard the Hummingbird turns. And there it is— the Fold. Growing closer and closer by the second.

Marya turns to Alina with a grin. "Ready to make history, Sun Summoner?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

         THE FOLD FEELS SUFFOCATING. Marya never truly understood just how fitting the name Unsea is until now. Everything is shrouded in darkness. She's certain that if she wore a blindfold, she'd see the same.

Absolutely nothing for miles on end.

The energy that had been abuzz aboard the Hummingbird is long gone, replaced instead by a tense, foreboding silence. In the distance, Marya is certain she hears a cry echo through the Fold, followed by a steady pounding of wings.

The monsters of the Unsea. Volcra. A part of her didn't believe they were real.

"I hate this place," Mal mutters besides her.

"It's just a bit of pitch black and bloodthirsty monsters," Sturmhond comments breezily. "What's not to love?"

Marya turns to the tracker. "You've been in the Fold before?"

"Twice. Three times if we're counting this one." He grimaces. "Three times too many." Marya almost feels embarrassed to say this is her first time.

She tries to squint her eyes, spot any reference marker. Instead, she's sure she catches a glimpse of a shadow flapping in the distance.

Mal looks at Alina. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Alina inhales sharply, nodding. "This is my chance to finally eradicate it. For good."

And with that, the Sun Summoner brings her hands together, before thrusting them into a wide arc. Around them, gold and white sear against the darkness, opening a blinding path ahead. It's no longer wisps of light like it was aboard the Repentance— no, this time, the whole world is alight.

Marya covers her face with her palm, letting her eyes adjust. As they finally do, she's in utter shock to see that, at the end of the light tunnel, there's land. East Ravka.

The Unsea glows from the inside out. It feels like something straight out of the Istorii Sankt'ya.

Until the light flickers.

Marya furrows her brows, watching as the light grows dimmer. "Something's wrong!" And then, suddenly, they're cast into darkness.

"What's happening?" Sturmhond asks.

"I don't know!" Mal responds.

The darkness closes around them, and in the last glimmer of light, Marya sees Alina fall.

"Alina!"

The growling and flapping of wings feels unnervingly closer than before.

Marya reaches for her pistols. "Neyar!" she shouts, turning towards the last spot she saw her navigator at.

Neyar's voice sounds less wobbly this time around. Perhaps the dread of flying being replaced with the feeling of a fight approaching. She unsheathes her sword. "I've got your six," she calls back, and Marya feels as her back presses against hers.

A creature snarls. Closer, closer.

"Kovu! Get us out!"

       Marya hears a shrill wail from coming from behind her. She turns as quickly as she can, getting a terrifyingly close sight of a volcra perching on the Hummingbird. The monstrous winged beast unlocks its jaw with a loud roar, revealing rows and rows of piercing teeth. And, once again, she gets the distinct feeling she's brought the wrong weapons to the wrong battle.

Marya shoots it before diving out of the way. Neyar, on the other hand, manages to slash its front in the nick of time— causing the volcra to cry out. But the wide, bleeding gash barely does anything to stop it.

What kills an undead monster of shadow?

Marya pulls two knives from her belt and sends them flying into the volcra's back. Somewhere close, she hears Tolya and Tamar holding their own against another one. One of the volcra's talons rips against the sail, making the Hummingbird rock and shudder.

"It's not slowing down!" Neyar shouts as she cuts against the monster with her sword.

Marya throws another knife, shoots another round. Then, she reaches for one of the pouches tied around her belt— the one Emerens made for her.

"Duck!"

Neyar doesn't hesitate. And without a second to waste, she drops to the floor— just as Marya throws a metallic red powder into the volcra's misshapen face.

The powder lights up as it makes contact with its face, making the volcra stumble back and screech in pain. Without missing a beat, Neyar swings into action, cutting across the monster's chest one last time, sending it hurling off the Hummingbird.

Marya and Neyar's chests heave. The Shu girl turns to her Captain. "Was that one of Emerens?"

Marya nods, her shoulders dropping as she inhales and exhales. "Don't tell him. He'll get a big head about it."

Another shrill wail comes from the darkness, and Marya uselessly realizes she's used all the explosive powder she had.

Thankfully, a searing burst of light comes from the prow of the Hummingbird, and Marya sees Alina standing up again.

The Hummingbird tilts, bursting through the last black wisps of the Unsea. They're out.

Out of the Fold and falling.

Marya rushes to the side of the ship, only to see that the trees and hills below are growing closer at an alarming rate. She realizes a little too late that the thing about flying is that you're never thinking about the landing.

"Just a little farther!" Sturmhond cries out. The wide rip in the sails seems to stretch farther with every passing second.

In the distance, she spots a slender blue lake beyond the low rise of the hills— but not before the long stretch of a road.

"Everyone get low and hold on tight!"

The sails dip and the Hummingbird continues to dive down. Branches and treetops scrape against the hull.

         Marya and Neyar hurry under the cockpit, where Alina and Mal already sit, arms and legs tangled together as they brace against all sides.

"Get ready!" Sturmhond roars.

"Shield your heads!" Marya yells.

         Marya feels as Neyar's grip tightens around her hand. She places her arms around her, covering Neyar's head with her chest. She can't even hear herself as she says, "Sankt Juris of the Sword, Sankt Demyan of the Rime."

         At the last second, Marya sees a blur of red hair hurling himself into the cockpit, landing besides her with a painful bang.

"This is cozy," Sturmhond says.

         "If I die, I'll come back to haunt you."

         "Looking forward to it, Captain."

         The Hummingbird strikes land with a bone-shattering jolt.

         Marya feels as her head bangs against a hard surface, leaving her ears ringing. The ship tears into the ground, clattering and splintering. The hull cracks in half— and the water comes flooding in.

         Marya rises to the surface with a gasp. Her hair blurs against her vision as she throws it back. She hears splashing around her, and with the world still spinning, she calls out, "Neyar!"

         A few feet away from her, Neyar rises to the surface, black braid drenched in lake water. "I'm okay," she gets out. "I'm okay." She lets out a loud breath of relief. "All Saints and their mothers, I am never doing that again."

         "Is everyone alive?"

         Marya watches as a Alina and Mal clamber out of the cockpit. Up ahead, Tolya and Tamar wade through water. Behind her, she hears a creaking sigh— and by the time she turns, she manages to see one of the masts of the Hummingbird giving away, collapsing into the lake.

         By the wreckage, Marya spots Sturmhond with an unconscious Squaller beneath his arm.

         They each haul themselves out of the lake, finally reaching the shore. Suli Captain collapses onto the ground, spitting out water.

         "Everyone okay?" Marya asks once she can speak again. She hears a few responses, and as she looks around, she realizes most of them are bruised and bleeding— bruised and bleeding and breathing. That's all that matters for now.

         "Alive and breathing," Alina says, voice jagged.

         "You always know how to make an entrance, don't you—" Marya starts, cutting herself off the moment she realizes Sturmhond isn't standing among them. Spinning around, she realizes he's waded back into the water, contemplating the lake with his teal frock pooling behind him. The last remaining mast of the Hummingbird sinks. Other than the torn up treetops and removed earth, there is no trace left of the flying vessel ever being there. "Sturmhond?"

         "Looks like we'll be having a slight change of plans," he says, slowly trudging out of the water. Sturmhond raises his head, turning towards Marya. "But nothing we can't manage, right, Captain?"

         The universe pauses for a moment. The world tilts.

         "What the hell?" Neyar demands.

         Mal freezes, eyes narrowing into a glare. His voice is low and angry. "What is this?"

"Sturmhond?" Marya asks, and her own voice feels so unbelievably far away.

         Sturmhond closes his eyes with a wince. He runs a hand through his face— a stranger's face.

With the water, his blood red hair drips away into a dark gold. His broken nose doesn't look so broken anymore— in fact, the lump at the bridge of it is inexplicably gone. And when he opens his eyes, they are not the familiar green that have accompanied her for weeks. Instead, an unfamiliar blue looks back at her, and Marya feels like the world is still tilting, tilting, tilting...

"What the hell?" Marya says, louder this time. A few of his crewmen turn to her, and she comes to the awful, awful realization that none of them look even remotely surprised. "What the hell?"

Sturmhond —because he is Sturmhond— raises his hands in a placating gesture. It's still his sheepish grin when he says, "I can explain."

"Then do so," she hisses.

Tamar leaps to her feet. "Someone's coming."

Marya is not too angry, too disoriented that she wouldn't hear the sound of hoofbeats against the ground, of men marching in their direction.

Tolya chuckles. "Well, looks like we're about to enjoy a traditional Ravkan welcome."

Through the line of trees, a group of mounted men reaches the shore of the lake. First Army. Marya's eyes drop to their sabers, to the rifles aimed at them.

After facing the Darkling, Rusalye, and the Fold, she never thought a squadron of the King's soldiers would become a problem. But they're outnumbered, and they are in no condition to put up a worthwhile fight.

An older man in an army uniform steps forward. "In the name of the King of Ravka, throw down your arms and identify yourselves."

Sturmhond starts to unbutton his coat. "I'll handle this."

Marya's hand latches onto his wrist. "Sturmhond—"

The blue eyes that look down at her are the eyes of a stranger, but his voice belongs to someone she's grown to trust— someone she's grown to care for. "While I do understand that we have a pending conversation, darling, I believe it wise not to call me that for the time being."

Marya's jaw clicks. "And why is that?"

"Because that's not my name." Clearly. But why does it matter now?

         The man at the front of the squadron speaks up again. "Identify yourselves at once or be shot."

         Sturmhond strides in front of her, peeling off his wet coat. Underneath it, she's shocked to see there's an olive green uniform— First Army uniform. The lilt of his voice is the same he's always had. Knowing, smug, vibrant. "Have I really changed so much, Raevsky?" Sturmhond asks, the same way he would ask an old friend. What the hell is going on? "I know it's been a number of years, but people swear I remain boyishly handsome."

         Marya watches as a wave passes through the rows of soldiers. The recognition that sparks in their faces. The sudden silence that settles over their ranks.

         "It can't be," the man breathes.

         "Yes, it is."

         Marya has seen many inexplicable things in her lifetime. Sea monsters. Ice beasts. The Black General. The legendary Sun Summoner. And yet, nothing could have possibly prepare her for what happens next.

         The soldiers kneel.

         "Rise," commands Sturmhond.

         Raevsky is the first to stand, turning towards the soldiers. And, in a loud voice, he declares, "I present Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, Soldier of the King's Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and second son to His Most Royal Majesty, King Pyotr the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne."

         The world is no longer tilting. The world is falling. Falling, falling, falling, and the air is stolen from her very lungs. Voices grow louder in her head, speaking over one another, trying to make themselves understood. Nothing makes sense. And the world falling around her.

         She's going to fall. All Saints, she's going to fall. The ground around her is going to swallow her whole. She feels sick.

Nikolai Lantsov.

Marya isn't sure when she starts walking towards him. She doesn't feel as she places her hand on his shoulder. But when he turns, there's an apologetic look in those unfamiliar eyes. Her stomach is in knots. She feels disgusted. Nikolai Lantsov. Not Sturmhond. Nikolai Lantsov.

"Marya," he starts, ready to twist the world around her again.

Marya's fist connects against his jaw with a loud crack. His face jerks to the side, stumbling back.

She only hopes his emerald ring leaves a mark.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N.
(this is a long one so buckle up)

AAAAND THAT IS THE END OF ACT ONE!! did i think we would ever get here? no, not really. but i have some exciting plans for the future >:))) as for now.... it really is tragic that marya was starting to... maybe...... have certain feelings for a certain privateer. mhm. pity. who could've ever seen this coming?

what a rollercoaster!!!! a few people called it last chapter but yes!! ravi is indeed marya's son— so now if you look back on all their previous interactions u can see the double meanings there :)) i honestly thought more people would've called it but!!! at least it won't feel like it came out of nowhere. i wanna clarify right away that, yes, since ravi is nearly eight and marya is nearly twenty two, marya did have ravi at fourteen, so yeah, she's a teen mom. any disrespectful comments regarding teen moms will not be tolerated and will be deleted >:(

that being said, seven devils will be taking a short break while i plan out a few more chapters for the next act. i have a few scenes and plot points in mind (and maybe written out) already, but i still need to figure a LOT of this. so. yeah.

i wanna add that act two will focus a LOT more on karim rather than have him as a background storyline. things are not gonna get much better for marya for a while if you know what i mean.

also!!!! fun fact!!! this chapter is named after joan didion's on going home. (i'm an english major so u BET i'm gonna try and use my degree for SOMETHING). maybe if u.... u know...... look up the meaning of this story...... you can- *gunshot*

finally!!!!! can i just say i am lowkey pissed i had planned for emerens to stay on the repentance BECAUSE i just recently started rewatching élite (i have my reasons) in french (I HAVE MY REASONS) and i kept seeing miguel bernardeau on screen and now i just wanna write for emerens skwjsjsjjwjw its fine.

so yeah!!!! short break moving forward so i can get the best version of act 2 out :) now it's back to square one with these two

[ Started: Sept 19th, 2023 ]
[ Posted: Nov 8th, 2023 ]

( word count: 7.5k )