The Forgotten Name

Dawn spilled gently across the small room, the pale light brushing against the tangled bedding.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Zephyr whispered, her voice warm against the hush of morning.

Kazuki cracked one eye open, groaning playfully. "Good morning, Zephy. When did you wake up?"

"Not long ago," she said, smiling faintly. "I decided to wait here until you opened your eyes. Then get dressed so I can go join the others."

He stretched, joints popping softly, still heavy with sleep. "Alright. You go ahead. Let me write in my journal first, then I'll come too."

She rose, smoothing her hair back, but paused when he reached out to catch her hand. She turned, caught off guard, as he leaned in for another kiss.

"You're so needy," she teased, lips curving into a grin.

"And you're not?" he shot back, making her laugh before slipping out.

Numeria – Entry 7

It's been two weeks since we left the Weeping Coast and set sail.

The sea hasn't been kind to everyone. Gorran is seasick more often than not. The twins complain about the humidity almost every day, their hair sticking to their foreheads, their moods short. Alvis and Captain Blacktide spend their nights with their eyes fixed on the sky, arguing softly over which stars to trust. Alvis swears by his constellations, while the captain insists his years at sea matter more than any mage's map.

Master Ardent keeps busy with a fishing line, pulling in whatever the waters will give us. He says it's to save our supplies for the Demon Lands, but I think part of him just wants something to do while the ship creaks forward.

And me… I find myself thinking about my own world. About Mom. About Hana. I miss them. But at the same time, I'm getting attached to the people here. Slowly, they're becoming like a family to me.

Especially Zephy.

I don't know why the thought of saying goodbye to her unsettles me so much. It's not as if that time is anywhere near yet. But still… the idea lingers. And it bothers me more than I can admit to anyone else.

Kazuki closed his notebook and set it aside before heading out to join the others for breakfast. The mess reeked of salt and smoked fish. Gorran sat hunched over the table, pale as paper, one hand pressed to his stomach.

"Morning," came the chorus of tired voices.

Kazuki smirked lightly. "You're still the same, Gorran."

"Aye, lad," Gorran groaned. "Me and the sea don't get along. Never have, never will."

"What's for breakfast today?" Kazuki asked, turning to Zephyr.

"The same as the last few days," she replied. "Hardtack, dried meat, porridge, apples, and ale. Oh—and salted fish. Master Ardent caught them this morning."

Kazuki glanced at Maeryn and the twins. "Aren't you going to eat?"

The twins answered together. "We already did. You two took too long to leave the bed, so we didn't wait."

Maeryn gave a faint smile, rubbing Gorran's shoulder. "And I'm not feeling hungry today. Looks like the sea's taken me the same way it has him."

Kazuki and Zephyr sat and ate together. When he'd finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Where's Master Ardent? And Master Alvis?"

"Master Ardent's on deck, somewhere," Zephyr said. "And Master Alvis is with the captain—as usual."

Kazuki nodded and rose. First, he found Ardent leaning on the railing, staring out over the endless blue. The old warrior's fishing line hung loose in his hand, a small bucket of salted catch beside him.

"Thank you for the fish," Kazuki said, stepping up beside him. "You're skilled at it, Master Ardent."

Ardent gave a short nod. "Everyone in my village fished. My father, my uncles. I was the first to take up the sword. Not just in my family, but the whole village."

A small smile tugged at Kazuki's lips. "My dad was a fisherman too. I faintly remember him taking me out on his boat, once."

Ardent's eyes slid toward him. "Forgive me if I pry, but… what became of him? You mentioned once that he passed when you were young."

Kazuki's voice dropped, quiet but steady. "I don't mind. One day, he went out with his crew. They never came back. The others said a sea tornado swallowed the ship whole. No wreckage, no bodies. For a long time, I didn't believe it. Every morning, I'd stand by the shore waiting for him to return… until I finally accepted, he wasn't coming back."

Ardent stayed silent, the waves filling the air between them. Then his voice rumbled, low but firm.

"The sea is a cruel master, Kazuki. It gives, it takes, and it keeps what it claims. But it's the waiting that cuts deepest. I've learned… the dead don't ask us to keep staring at the horizon. They ask us to keep walking forward."

Kazuki breathed in the salt air, letting the words sink in. "…Thank you, Master Ardent."

Leaving Ardent to his line, he crossed the deck to where Alvis stood beside the captain. Alvis hunched over a map spread across a crate, fingers stroking his beard in thought, while the captain gripped the helm with steady hands.

"Morning," Kazuki greeted.

Both men looked up and returned the gesture.

The captain's eyes studied him. "And how's the sea treating you, boy? Not rattling your gut like your friends?"

"No. I'm fine."

Kazuki tilted his head, curiosity in his eyes.

"Was this sea always called the Sea of Mourning? Or… did it have another name before?

Alvis smirked faintly as he prepared his wooden pipe. "Indeed, it has a story. But I'll let the captain tell it. The locals carry that tale better than I ever could."

Kazuki turned to the captain, who had gone quiet at the helm. The man took a deep breath, the wood creaking beneath his boots.

"I was no older than my boy Billy when my grandpa sat me on his knee and told me the tale. He said back then, when he was still learning the ropes under his father, the sea was not yet called the Sea of Mourning. Back then…" his lips twisted, "…women weren't allowed as crew. They could board ships as passengers, aye, but never sail as seafarers."

His gaze went distant, fixed on the horizon.

"There was a woman—a singer named lady Megara. Her voice…, they said it was touched by the heavens. Nobles, merchants, even the king paid whatever price she asked, just to hear her sing. But Megara hated that women were barred from sailing as a true seafarer. So she gathered a crew—women, all of them—and bought her own ship. They swore they'd cross the sea to the far continent."

A low chuckle rattled in his chest. "The other captains laughed. Said they wouldn't last a week. But they sailed. Weeks passed, and no word came. Then the king himself grew restless—he'd been bewitched by her voice, you see. He ordered his captains to find her. But the ships he sent… never returned either."

The deck seemed to grow quieter as his voice dropped.

"From then on, any ship that entered these waters failed to return. The name spread, and the Sea of Mourning was born."

He leaned on the helm. "Some say it was pirates. Others claim rival captains sabotaged her ship. A few whisper the queen herself, jealous of Megara's hold over the king, had her silenced. Truth is, no one knows. These days, young sailors laugh it off as a myth. As for what the name of the sea was before, that I do not know. Only that Megara's ship bore a name that lingers even now—Scylla."

A puff of smoke curled into the air. Alvis finally spoke, his voice quiet.

"Before the sea became cursed, it was called Lindorënë."

Then came the night.

A black raven's wings beating silently above the ship. Far below, the crew slept, unaware.

What the raven saw appeared in a wide bowl of water before a cloaked figure, hunched over the vision, smoke curling from unseen lips beneath the hood.

The figure exhaled. A plume of smoke drifted into the bowl. On the waves, the ship below was swallowed in a veil of fog.

Slowly, the figure dipped a bony finger into a pot of ink. Then, with that same finger, it touched the water's surface. Ripples spread across the bowl.

A grin—thin, jagged, and unnatural—stretched beneath the hood.

The next morning, the crew was jolted awake by a cry from the crow's nest.

"Land! An island ahead, Captain!"

They scrambled onto the deck, squinting into the mist.

Blacktide snatched up his spyglass, his eyebrow furrowing as he peered ahead.

"…Impossible." His voice was low, shaken. "There are no islands in these waters."

Every soul aboard felt the weight of dread settle over them.