Water buffeted against them as Soren struggled to keep Tanden's head above the water. Prayers to the Old God of the Sea and to Roe looped constantly through his thoughts, mixed in with an occasionally plead to the Teltish Goddess and anyone else he could remember.

The salt water stung cuts and scrapes he didn't even know he had, including along his entire right forearm. Part of him wanted to inspect the damage, but his right arm worked and for the moment that was all that mattered. While he treaded water with his feet and left arm, his right tightly wound around Tanden's waist, holding him up. Their blood mingled in the water, and Soren briefly considered the danger of sharks, before putting the worry out of his mind. There was nothing he could do about sharks. Nothing he could do but make sure both he and Tanden continued to breath.

The smoke wasn't helping in that regard. Even though he tried to put distance between them and the burning, sinking ship, smoke billowed across the water. Sometimes a breeze would clear it for a moment, allowing him to get a lungful of air, but mostly he was inhaling smoke.

Inhaling smoke, swallowing seawater, and holding Tanden.

Despite his exhaustion and desperation, or maybe because of those things, Soren's mind wandered.

Seawater and smoke had taken Tanden away, and now, seawater and smoke had brought him back.

Soren still wasn't convinced it was real. It felt as if he let go, or turned Tanden around to get a good look, he would realize that he was clinging to some other man. Because it simply wasn't possible for Tanden to be there.

Although, Tanden had a habit of doing things that seemed impossible.

What had he done? Charmed the gods into letting him live? Commandeered a ship of his own? Climbed over the mountains? Maybe a pod of whales had come to his aid, like they had for the Sailor King. Maybe the ocean had bowed to his authority. Maybe the land had split, so a river could carry him North. Every absurd option seemed possible, because Tanden was capable of it all.

He was a miracle himself, so of course the world would bend to his whims.

He had probably strolled into the afterlife, and the gods had asked him how they could serve him. They had probably jumped at the opportunity.

Tanden slipped. Soren tightened his grip and tried to shift Tanden's limp body so his head would rest back on Soren's shoulder. Doing so pushed Soren a bit deeper, but he held his head up and kept breathing the smoky air.

Toliver's ship was nearly half-submerged. She would sink to the bottom of the ocean, taking Toliver along with her. Down into the dark, cold depths. The poor ship didn't deserved her fate, but she would make an honorable resting place for a man who didn't deserve such an honor.

Soren doubted anyone on the Walloxa had seen him jump overboard, and maybe that was fitting. His ship was named after the Alvarian afterlife. Maybe he had been an avenging ghost all along, and now that he had achieved his goal, it was time to drift on to whatever came next.

Maybe Tanden was a toxo. It made about as much sense as any of his other guesses.

Maybe sinking to the bottom of the ocean together was whatever came next. The Old God of the Sea would greet them, and they would finally find out what the truth of the deities was. They would see if Roe and the Old God of the Sea were the same or not.

Soren's strength was waning. Tanden was heavy and limp, dragging him down. Soon, Soren would have to make a decision, even though it wasn't really a decision at all. Letting Tanden go would make his own survival more likely, but it wasn't a real option. Soren was going to keep them afloat as long as he could, and once he couldn't, they were going to the Old God of the Sea together.

A bigger wave caught Soren off guard and he swallowed a mouthful of seawater. He came up spluttered and coughing and struggling to draw in a full breath of smoke. He felt even more lightheaded once he had finally cleared his throat.

For a moment, his grip on Tanden faltered, and that was all it took for Tanden's body to sink. Soren dove immediately, desperately reaching for him, catching Tanden's wrist just before he sank out of reach.

He almost let Tanden's weight pull them both down. But he wasn't quite ready, and he gathered the last of his strength to drag Tanden back to the surface. He lay back, trying to float, and pulled Tanden's body over his chest.

"I love you." He might have whispered it, or he might have shouted it. He really had no idea, he just needed to say it out loud. Whether Tanden could hear him or not. "I'll..." Warmer water ran across his face, and he realized he was crying. "I'll follow wherever you lead, Tanden. My Captain." He pressed a kiss to Tanden's cool temple, and tried to prepare to let himself sink.

"Soren!"

He almost didn't reply, because the faint voice sounded like a trick. And he was tired. And, he had to admit to himself, he wasn't actually sure that Tanden was still alive.

"Soren!"

But maybe he was. Soren took a deep breath, and stared up at the hazy, smoky sky.

"Ara! We're over here!"

***

Tanden was fairly certain he was dying.

Which was irritating, to say the least.

But there wasn't really any other way to explain the way his body felt like it was floating. And he knew, although he couldn't really feel it anymore, that he was wounded.

His thoughts ebbed and flowed with the waves beneath him. When they were clearest, he thought about how frustrating it was to be dying. Because despite what he had told dream-or-spirit Soren in his dream-or-vision, he wasn't really ready to die. There was too much left to do. Take Jale back to Tallen Tiya. Take Kuiva back to Zaxali. Find his remaining men.

But it was too late for any of that. Tanden wondered vaguely where he was going. He felt the water and the arm around his waist, which might have been Roe, or the Old God of the Sea. The Teltish Goddess wasn't claiming him. If it had been her, Tanden would have been floating up through the air to reach her Realm. At least, that's what he thought was supposed to happen.

But cold water, and sinking down into it, was Crelan. Becoming one with the ocean, burial at sea, it was Crelan. A captain going down with—

Or was it Moattish? Was Attinabi reclaiming the life she had given him when he fell over the waterfall? He didn't know enough about her to know if that was possible.

It seemed odd that he hadn't seen anyone yet. At the very least, the Wanderlust's figurehead should have been there to meet him. She had been everywhere else. On the beach, in Zaxali, over the waterfall. Whenever he needed her, she had appeared. This moment certainly fit the criteria.

Something changed. He felt hands grabbing him, pulling him. The Goddess was trying to claim him for herself. He didn't have the energy to fight or push her back. How could he explain that he didn't want to go to her Realm? He wanted to go where Soren had gone. To the Old God of the Sea and the ocean.

The next thing he was properly aware of was the floor swaying beneath him. His experienced mind automatically understood that he was on a boat. It was too small to be a ship; he could feel the waves too much. The water was right below him.

The Old God of the Sea was leaning over him. Tanden could make him out blearily. He looked Crelan. Handsome, tanned chest bare, swirling tattoos on his shoulders. His eyes were bright green, his beard was dark and thick, and his hair hung over his shoulders in braids. Sunshine shone so brightly from behind him, almost like he was wearing the Goddess' sunburst crown. Or maybe she was there too, hovering behind him, trying to get closer so she could claim Tanden's soul.

But he didn't belong to her. He belonged to the ocean, and the Wanderlust, and Soren.

Tanden slowly lifted his left arm to touch to Old God of the Sea's beard. "—look Crelan," he mumbled. "Makes... sense. Roe would—"

Then, the Old God of the Sea kissed him.

It awoke something in Tanden. The moments that had followed Toliver came back to him. He remembered lying on the deck, someone talking to him. And he remembered being kissed.

The Old God of the Sea—Soren. Soren.—leaned back. Weariness forgotten, Tanden tried to push himself up to follow. He pushed up with his left arm and reached for Soren with his right. His fingers found Soren's long hair and grabbed hold. He tugged, pulling Soren forward again to crash their lips together.

Time slowed. Tanden slid his hand behind Soren's head to hold him in place. He kissed Soren fiercely, desperately, as if Soren's lips could draw out all of his sorrow and anger. If this was dying, he welcomed it wholeheartedly. If it meant being with Soren, he would—

Pain overcame his burst of energy. Tanden's slumped backward, his eyes closing. "Fuck," he grumbled, his left hand instinctively going to the wound on hip.

He felt fingers brush gently through his hair. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Feels bad."

Lips touched his forehead. Tanden opened his eyes, and Soren was right there, leaning over him, beautiful green eyes gazing into his. Soren kissed his lips again before sitting upright. He was holding Tanden's hand, and he pressed it against his own left hip. Puzzled, Tanden felt a raised line of scar tissue. Where had that come from?

"It's the same," Soren said. "And I was fine. You'll be fine."

Tanden blinked. For the first time, he really understood that Soren wasn't wearing a shirt, and that it was because his shirt was wrapped tightly around Tanden's waist. It was soaked in blood and seawater. But there was blood on Soren's right arm, too, and Tanden remembered seeing Toliver land a hit.

"Your arm?"

Soren held it up. A long gash had been sliced from his elbow to his wrist. There was something interesting there. Something poetic about Toliver's first mate slicing open Tanden's arm, and Toliver himself slicing Tanden's first mate. Tanden tried to come up with some way to say it out loud. Something charming or romantic.

"We match," was what he managed to say instead.

A slight smile turned up the corner of Soren's lips. "I know."

Tanden's right hand was still on Soren's hip, lightly tracing the line of the scar. "What... where are we?" All he could see was Soren and the blue sky above them. But surely they had to be going somewhere.

Soren shifted aside. Tanden's gaze caught a single, recognizable mast. "The Waterborne?" Skepticism coloured his voice. "Why? If we're going to sail into the afterlife, we should be on the Wanderlust."

At that, Soren smiled in earnest. "We're not dying."

"Oh." Exhaustion and pain made the news somewhat less exciting than it should have been. "Good. But..." His eyelids were so heavy. "You're... burned. The Wanderlust."

"I escaped. Elorie told me you drowned. You're supposed to be dead."

"Hmm... aren't I? Aren't you? No." Tanden blinked, annoyed by his own body's inability to fight sleep. "I'm fairly certain you're dead."

"No."

"Tandar told me...." Tanden's hand slipped from Soren's hip. It was too tiring to hold it up. "Not to get angry during a fight. But... I was angry. And Rico stabbed me, so... It's all right. We'll go together. I'm ready."

"I'm not dead." Soren gripped Tanden's right hand, intertwining their fingers. He certainly didn't feel dead. "Stop arguing. Rest. I'll be right here."

Tanden didn't want to rest. There was too much to figure out. Unfortunately, his body disagreed.

***

Soren stroked Tanden's hair with his right hand. He was aware of the blood dripping from his arm onto Tanden's chest, but he couldn't be bothered by it. He squeezed Tanden's right hand and watched his chest rise and fall with gentle breaths.

"Where did he come from?" Ara asked. He was handling the Waterborne well, with help from the injured Navirian. Soren was proud of him.

"I don't know," Soren said, and at the moment he didn't care. Getting Tanden medical attention was what really mattered. Everything else could come after. Including, Soren had already decided, dragging Tanden to the nearest religious place and praying. "Has the Walloxa returned your signal?"

"They saw us," Ara said.

Soren looked up briefly, just long enough to see that his ship was changing course in the distance. Then his attention went back to watching Tanden breath. He had to take the time now to revel in Tanden's presence, because as soon as he stepped foot on the Walloxa duty would call. There would be other wounded to see to, orders to give. They had to reconvene with Elorie and attempt to talk to the Navirian warship. There would be prisoners to deal with. Important things, of course, although nothing felt more important than watching Tanden breath.