What mattered to Layela was that her lap was blanketed and comforted by the spread of green hair, and she didn’t feel quite as alone. Visions whispered near her mind, unwilling to be quiet now as they had been at Sunrise Flowers, when she had felt safe. A tremor settled deep into her spine and she doubted it would ever leave.
The vision of the dying soldiers had been awakened in her years ago, under the whims of the Kilita. She hadn’t fully remembered it until seconds before it happened, but now she knew her fears weren’t unfounded. The visions locked in her mind would come to pass, and unless she could remember them, she doubted she could stop them.
But then, even if she could remember them, could she stop them? Idly, she wondered if that was why she had founded Sunrise Flowers in the first place. It had been safe, because no death lingered there. But the visions had still found her. She had been unable to escape them.
What other visions had she seen? All that she remembered of those days of assaulting visions was death. A thousand, maybe millions of lives streaming by her mind in a blur, only capturing the final breath. And then nothing. Nothing at all.
She looked down at Josmere, and as her heartbeat accelerated and sweat beaded on her brow, she was certain she had seen how her friend would die. But she couldn’t recall the details. She could only taste the fear, and thought maybe that meant she would be there to witness it.
If I could see your death, could I even prevent it? Is it already written in the history books of the future, or is the pen still waiting to ink the page?
The shuttle slowed and she looked up to see that they had arrived by the docks of Smuggler’s Cove. Hardly a cove, with neither mountain nor bay gracing the landscape, it was nonetheless filled with smugglers. Ship after ship, unmarked and suspicious-looking, were lined perfectly against a metal structure. The ships were never too close to one another, as though a silent vow had been taken: Keep away from mine, and I’ll keep away from yours.
Ardin expertly navigated the busy streets, people and shuttles crowding the entrance to the market, appropriately named the Black Market.
“They really don’t care that people know, do they?” Layela asked, shaking her head.
Avienne gave a short laugh. “Imagine the government trying to shut this place down. Gomar himself wouldn’t want to go against this army of smugglers. Besides, the government accounts for about half the sales here!”
Layela glanced outside. People were laughing and joking, not the dark brooding souls some might imagine this so-called cove would hide. Smuggling had never appealed to her, and even thievery had been Yoma and Josmere’s specialty. She wondered what the job entailed exactly, and whether she would be any good at it. She had to begin rebuilding somehow. She had to get away from the uncertainty that now clouded her mind. Her visions were useless, anyhow. What difference could she possibly make when she couldn’t even recall them, save for seconds before the final breath or with a Berganda’s careful touch?
She needed the few answers the Malavants might be able to give her.
“Why were you looking for me?” Layela asked, breaking the silence.
Ardin shrugged. “We were hired to protect you.”
“That’s it?” Layela asked suspiciously, Josmere raising her head in interest.
“There she is. The Destiny,” Ardin replied, sidestepping the question and pointing to a ship.
Although Layela did not know much about ships, she knew that what she was looking at was old, beautiful, and very different from any other ship she’d ever seen before. Rejecting the modern shipbuilders’ sleek and dull visions, the ship’s sculpted design suggested the ancient grace of sea ships, from keel to mast, all depicted or hinted at on her massive metal shell. Her obsidian hull gleamed in the sunlight, the carvings giving the impression that the sails might start flapping in the wind at any moment. Even the poor red sun of Collar could not undermine her beauty, the shadows only accentuating and defining each port and plank.
She was sturdy, solid and battle-scarred. All of her markings had been removed long ago, leading Layela to believe that she was a stolen ship. Layela was, after all, dealing with smugglers, dealers in illegal goods, or perhaps even pirates, a most dangerous lot who pillaged and plundered without rhyme or reason.
The ship stood silently in the dock with a stoic grace not shared by her neighbours, and Layela almost expected to see an anchor falling from her hull. But, although illusions of complex shapes had been worked into the metal, giving it a unique beauty, the Destiny was still only a metal ship that travelled the vast coldness of space.
One that had seen more than its share of battles.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Ardin whispered from up front, smiling.
“She is,” Layela whispered, unable to say differently.
“It’s home,” Avienne said, with both affection and sadness in her voice.
“But could you imagine a more beautiful home?” Ardin said, as if to himself.
“I can,” Layela whispered, the explosion of Sunrise Flowers still ringing in her mind.
“Urgh. I can’t believe I’m back here,” Lang moaned. “Can’t you drop me off now?”
Ardin accelerated and veered, much to the delight of his sister, who cheered. The shuttle swerved by the Destiny, all light blocked by the tall ship, only its metal hull visible by Avienne’s side.
Another moan escaped Lang as Ardin jerked on the controls and turned hard towards the ship, Layela gasped as the metal hull opening just in time to grant them access and reveal a poorly lit docking bay.
“Hope you don’t chill easily,” Avienne said as she opened the hatch, a cold breeze immediately infiltrating every corner of the shuttle. Lang exited next, Ardin helping Josmere and Layela exit the cramped quarters.
Avienne yawned expansively and stretched,
