“Aisling!”
The urgency in her mother’s voice tore her from sleep.
Before her eyes fully opened, Aisling felt the storm. The ship pitched violently beneath her, the familiar creak of timbers turned sharp and frantic. She was thrown against the narrow bunk as the hull lurched again, the sound of the wind screaming through the rigging like something alive and furious.
“Come,” her mother said, already pulling her upright. “We need to get to your father’s cabin. Now.”
Her mother’s hand closed tightly around hers. They climbed the ladder to the deck together, each step a fight against the roll of the ship.
Chaos met them above.
Fog wrapped the deck so thickly Aisling couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead, couldn’t even see her own fingers when she lifted her hand. The air tasted of salt and iron. Shadows moved everywhere, deckhands shouting to one another as they wrestled with sails and lines, their voices swallowed and scattered by the wind.
Somewhere ahead, waves crashed hard enough to shudder through the hull.
Her father stood at the helm, feet braced wide, knuckles white as he fought the wheel. He looked carved from the storm itself, dark coat soaked through, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes locked on a horizon no one else could see.
Beyond him lay Crowbreach Harbor.
Too close.
The Shallows lurked just beyond it, hidden teeth beneath the water. A ship driven there didn’t break. It shattered.
“Fudon,” her father shouted over the roar of wind and sea, his voice carrying the weight of old prayers. “God of the Sea, I beg your mercy!”
Aisling had heard that voice her whole life, steady, confident, certain. Now it trembled, just enough for her to hear it. Fear slipped cold into her chest.
Her mother didn’t hesitate. She pulled Aisling toward the small cabin behind the helm, just as the ship rolled sharply to starboard.
The deck tilted violently.
Her mother cried out as her footing slipped, and she went down hard. Aisling screamed her name and lunged for her, fingers scrabbling against wet wood as the ship reared again.
The sea was angry in a way Aisling had never known. Not restless. Not wild. Furious.
Her mother grabbed her arm and hauled her inside the cabin just as another wave slammed into the hull. They crashed together into the corner, clinging to each other as the floor tilted and the world seemed determined to shake them loose.
Lightning split the sky.
For an instant, the fog glowed white, the ship outlined in sharp, terrifying clarity. Then thunder cracked so close it rattled Aisling’s teeth.
The sound of splintering wood followed, deep and final.
“Aisling!” her mother shouted.
The world came apart.
The deck vanished. The cabin vanished. One moment there was wood beneath her, walls around her and the next, there was only darkness and screaming water.
Cold swallowed her whole.
She surfaced gasping, salt burning her throat. The sea tossed her like a scrap of wreckage, waves slapping her face, dragging her under again and again. Around her, voices cried out, then vanished.
Aisling kicked hard, forcing herself up. She had learned to swim before she could walk. Her father had insisted on it. The sea gives and the sea takes, he’d told her. You respect it, or it will teach you.
Tonight, it was teaching her.
Her eyes stung, vision blurred by water and fog, but then. There.
Her father’s hand.
Reaching for her through the chaos, fingers spread wide. Around him, broken planks and beams bobbed and spun, but none close enough. If she could just reach him, just grab on—
A wave surged.
The sea yanked her down.
Up and down lost meaning. The surface disappeared. Her hair fanned around her face, heavy and blinding. Her clothes dragged at her limbs, pulling her deeper. Panic flared, hot and sharp.
Swim, she told herself. Just swim.
She kicked, clawed upward—
Pain exploded across her skull.
Stars burst behind her eyes, white and blinding. The world tilted, spun. The roar of the sea dulled to a distant echo.
And then—
Nothing.
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