Save the Girls

A sharp ache coiled through Estaria’s spine as he stirred awake. His body protested every movement—muscles stiff from the hard ground, limbs sluggish with exhaustion. The pre-dawn air was damp, clinging to his skin like mist, and the distant hoot of an owl marked the slow retreat of night.

He rolled onto his side, blinking blearily up at the dark canopy above. His coat, pulled tight around him against the chill, smelled of earth and old leaves. The weight of the ledger pressed against his chest—a silent reminder of why he couldn’t rest any longer.

He sat up slowly, wincing as sore muscles stretched. The world was painted in muted grays, the horizon just beginning to blush with the first hints of sunrise. The road waited ahead, winding between rolling fields and thick stretches of woodland.

Sara. Clara. Beth.

The realization hit like a splash of cold water. They had too much of a head start. He should have been moving hours ago.

Shoving away the last remnants of sleep, Estaria pushed to his feet. His legs protested, heavy with exhaustion, but he ignored the discomfort. He slung his water skin over his shoulder, adjusted the ledger against his chest, and forced himself into motion.

The dirt road stretched endlessly before him, the packed earth cool beneath his boots. With each step, the fog of sleep lifted, replaced by gnawing urgency. He had to reach them before it was too late.

The steady rhythm of his footsteps against the packed dirt did little to quiet his mind. His body moved forward on instinct, exhaustion pulling at his limbs, but his thoughts churned relentlessly.

How was he supposed to convince her?

Sara tolerated him because of Angel. That was it. There had never been warmth between them, no bond beyond the one Angel had built. She had let him in because Angel had let him in, and even then, there had always been a distance, a line drawn between them that Estaria had never been able to cross.

She had grown up seeing the Valens name as something cruel. His family had been the reason she spent years barely scraping by. The reason her mother had worked herself into an early grave. And though Angel had been willing to look past all of it—for him—Sara never had.

And now, he was going to ask her to throw away everything she had built in Convergence.

The thought nearly stopped him in his tracks.

Her entire life was there. The teaching position she had fought for. The small home she had made for Beth and Clara. The sense of stability she had spent years clawing toward after losing Angel.

And he was supposed to walk in, ledger in hand, and tell her to burn it all down because he said so?

Even if she believed the danger was real, what was to stop her from thinking it was his fault? That this was just another Valens disaster spilling over into her life, like it always had?

Would she even listen?

A sharp breath rattled through his chest, and he scrubbed a hand down his face.

He needed a plan.

He couldn’t just demand she follow him. He had to make her want to leave.

The ledger was his strongest weapon, but it wouldn’t be enough on its own. If he just threw accusations at her, she’d dig her heels in. Sara didn’t respond to fear—she had spent too many years learning to ignore it.

He had to make her see the threat. He had to connect it to something she couldn’t ignore.

Tolomy.

That was the key.

She had been there when he disappeared. She had heard the rumors, seen his mother break down in the market when no news came. If he could show her proof that Tolomy never left of his own free will, that he was taken—just like others before him—then maybe she’d believe that the same fate could be waiting for Clara and Beth.

Maybe then she’d listen.

Maybe then she’d run.

He clenched his jaw and pushed forward, the morning light growing stronger as he crested a small hill.

Then, finally—

A wagon in the distance.

Sara. Clara. Beth.

He had found them.

But that was the easy part.

Now came the hard one.

The wagon creaked as it rolled along the dirt road, the steady rhythm of hoofbeats setting an unhurried pace.

Sara should have been thinking about Convergence—about the future waiting for them there. The new apartment, the teaching position, the stability she had fought for.

Instead, her mind kept circling back to the ledger.

She had dismissed it when Estaria first showed it to her. Or—no. Not dismissed. She had forced herself not to think about it.

Because if she had let herself believe it was as bad as he claimed—if she had accepted that his family really had that much reach, that much control—then she wouldn’t have been able to leave so easily.

But the names had stuck with her. The numbers. The way Estaria’s hands had shaken slightly when he pointed to Tolomy’s entry.

She had spent the entire evening thinking it over, running the same thoughts in circles.

It didn’t matter.

As long as the ledger was put back where it belonged, his parents had no reason to suspect anything. No reason to come looking for her or the girls.

She had told herself that over and over, until she almost believed it.

A flicker of movement ahead.

Sara straightened, fingers tightening on the reins. A figure on the road.

For half a second, she thought it was a traveler. But then—

The way he moved. The familiar slope of his shoulders. The exhaustion dragging at every step.

Her stomach twisted.

It was Estaria.

He was supposed to be in Appledale.

A chill ran down her spine, cold despite the warmth of the morning sun.

Why was he here?

Beth’s delighted shriek broke through the stillness.

“Estaria!”

She leapt from the wagon before it had even fully stopped, racing toward him. Clara followed at a slower pace, though relief was clear on her face.

Sara didn’t move.

Didn’t call out.

Didn’t soften.

She just watched him.

Something was wrong.

She took in the dust clinging to his coat, the stiffness in his movements, the tightness around his mouth.

And the way his hand—almost absently, almost unconsciously—clutched at something beneath his coat.

A slow, creeping dread curled in her stomach.

He met her gaze.

And for the first time, she saw it. The guilt. The hesitation.

Sara stepped down from the wagon, boots crunching against the dirt. Her voice came out calm, steady.

“Estaria,” she said. “Why are you here?”

He hesitated.

Not good enough.

She took another step closer. “You said you were going back to Appledale.”

Another hesitation.

Her stomach dropped.

“You did put it back, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

A beat of silence.

Then Estaria reached into his coat and pulled out the ledger.

Sara felt the breath leave her lungs.

For a second, she just stared at it.

The small, leather-bound book. The worn edges. The weight of everything it contained.

Still in his hands.

Still with him.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

“You—” The word barely escaped her lips. She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “You still have it?”

Estaria’s grip tightened around the ledger. “Sara—”

“You still have it?” Her voice rose, something sharp and panicked breaking through.

Then, she asked:

“When?”

Not even looking at him. Eyes glued to the ledger.

Estaria swallowed. “They found out last night. Probably.”

Sara exhaled slowly. “They will look for you, and when they don’t find you …”

“They’ll probably come after you and the girls to force my hand.”

Sara closed her eyes, forcing the rage down. Losing her head now won’t save the girls. “Tell me you have a plan to get us out of this mess YOU put us in,” she said, poking his chest.

“First, we disappear. The coast is our best shot.”

She nodded. After shooting him a glare that should have killed him, she turned and smiled toward the girls. “Up into the cart! Estaria’s taking us on a mini-vacation to the coast!”

⁂

Sara guided the cart off the main road, following Estaria’s lead through a narrow path between dense trees. The wagon wheels caught on roots and rocks, jostling them with each bump. Beth’s delighted giggles at the bouncing ride did little to ease the knot in Sara’s stomach.

After what felt like an eternity of careful maneuvering, they reached a small clearing nestled within a thick grove. Ancient oaks towered overhead, their branches creating a natural canopy that would hide any smoke from their fire. Perfect for staying hidden.

Sara caught herself. When had she started thinking like a fugitive?

“This looks good,” Estaria said, his voice low. He scanned the treeline, shoulders tense. “We should set up before we lose the light.”

Sara nodded, forcing herself to smile as she turned to the girls. “Clara, can you and Beth gather some firewood? Stay within sight of the clearing.”

While the girls searched the ground for dry branches, Sara helped Estaria unload their supplies. They worked in tense silence, both hyper-aware of their surroundings. Every snapping twig made Sara’s heart jump.

Sara sorted through the belongings they’d hastily packed from the Blush estate, spreading everything across a worn blanket on the forest floor. Her hands trembled slightly as she folded Clara’s favorite blue dress - it would have to stay behind. The weight of their situation pressed down on her chest like a physical thing.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows that danced across their meager possessions. A cool breeze carried the musty scent of decaying leaves and damp earth. Beth and Clara sat cross-legged nearby, watching with somber expressions that looked wrong on their young faces.

“We need to be practical,” Sara said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Only what we can carry easily.” She picked up Beth’s stuffed rabbit, its once-white fur now gray with age. Beth’s lower lip quivered.

“But Mr. Hoppy-”

“He can come,” Estaria cut in quietly from where he stood guard at the edge of their small camp. “He doesn’t weigh much.”

Sara wanted to argue - they needed every bit of space for essentials - but the grateful look on Beth’s face stopped her. Instead, she focused on sorting through their clothes, creating three piles: essential, useful, and must leave behind.

The essential pile was small: two changes of clothes each, warm cloaks, sturdy boots. Sara added their warmest undergarments, knowing the coastal winds could be bitter. Her fingers brushed against the silk shawl her brother had given her last winter. It joined the ‘leave behind’ pile, though it pained her to do so.

“Clara, bring me your pack,” Sara said, measuring the space they had to work with. The worn leather pack seemed impossibly small. “Beth, yours too.”

While the girls brought their packs, Sara sorted through their food supplies. The dried meat and hard cheese would keep well. Apples would need to be eaten in the next few days. The loaf of bread from home was already going stale - they’d eat that tonight.

“Can I keep my journal?” Clara asked, clutching the leather-bound book to her chest. Sara glanced at Estaria, who gave a slight nod.

“Yes, but only that one. The others will have to stay.” Sara watched Clara carefully tuck the journal into her pack, along with a single pencil.

Beth’s pack proved more challenging. The ten-year-old had stuffed it full of toys and trinkets from her room. Sara gently emptied it, setting aside Mr. Hoppy while explaining why they couldn’t bring the wooden horse collection or her box of pretty stones.

“But they’re special,” Beth protested, tears welling in her eyes.

Sara pulled her niece close, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll get you new special things.”

The repacking took the better part of an hour. Sara carefully distributed the weight between the packs, making sure neither girl carried more than they could manage. Clean clothes went in first, followed by their share of the food supplies. Each pack got a water skin, a small knife, and basic medical supplies - bandages and herbs Sara had learned to use from their mother.

Mr. Hoppy found a new home peeking out of Beth’s pack, his floppy ears providing some comfort among the practical items. Clara’s journal sat safely wrapped in a spare shirt, protected from the weather. Sara added a small sewing kit to her own pack, along with extra medical supplies and their remaining coins carefully hidden in a false bottom.

The ‘leave behind’ pile grew larger than Sara wanted to admit. Beautiful dresses their mother had made, books full of stories they’d read together, the delicate china cup Beth used for special occasions - all of it would have to stay. Sara wrapped these treasures carefully in the remaining blankets, tucking them into the wagon’s hidden compartment. Perhaps, somehow, they could retrieve them later.

With the packs finally organized, Sara double-checked each one. The weight had to be just right - too heavy and the girls would tire quickly, too light and they’d be missing essentials they might desperately need. She adjusted straps, added and removed items, until she was satisfied they’d struck the right balance.

“Try these on,” she said, helping the girls into their packs. Clara stood straight, adjusting to the weight with determination. Beth wobbled slightly but found her balance, one hand reaching back to touch Mr. Hoppy’s ear for reassurance.

The remaining supplies went into Sara’s own pack, which felt desperately light given what they might face. She tried not to think about all they were leaving behind, about the life they were abandoning with only a few hours’ notice. Instead, she focused on her nieces’ faces, reminding herself that keeping them safe was worth any sacrifice.

“We need to obscure the wagon tracks,” Estaria muttered, glancing back toward their entry point.

“I’ll handle it.” Sara grabbed a leafy branch. “Set up the tent.”

She worked methodically, sweeping away their trail while keeping one eye on Clara and Beth. The girls had gathered a decent pile of wood, but Clara’s expression had grown increasingly troubled. She kept looking between Sara and Estaria, her brow furrowed.

Too perceptive for her own good, that one.

When Sara returned to the camp, Estaria had the tent erected and was arranging stones for a fire pit. Clara approached, arms full of kindling.

“Will we be stopping in Appledale?” she asked innocently.

Sara’s hands stilled. She caught Estaria’s sharp intake of breath.

“No, sweetie,” Sara answered carefully. “We’re heading straight to the coast.”

“But I thought—”

“Clara, why don’t you help Beth sort out your sleeping rolls?” Sara interrupted, perhaps too quickly. Clara’s frown deepened, but she nodded and went to help her sister.

The sun dipped lower as they prepared a simple dinner of bread, cheese, and dried fruit. Sara kept her movements deliberate, checking and double-checking their surroundings. She noticed Estaria doing the same, his hand often straying to where she knew he kept the ledger.

After they ate, Beth begged for a story. Sara wrapped an arm around her niece, launching into a tale about a clever fox outsmarting a wolf. She embellished the story with dramatic gestures, drawing giggles from Beth and even a small smile from Clara.

But Clara’s smile faded as soon as the story ended. She helped clean up, then lingered by Sara’s side while Beth crawled into the tent.

“Aunt Sara?” Clara’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Why are we being so careful? Is something wrong?”

Sara’s chest tightened. She turned to face her niece, forcing her features to remain calm. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart. We’re just being cautious because it’s getting dark.”

“But you and Estaria keep looking around like you’re worried someone’s following us.”

Smart girl. Too smart.

Sara cupped Clara’s cheek. “We’re fine. I promise. Now get some sleep – we have a long day tomorrow.”

Clara didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and retreated into the tent. Through the canvas, Sara could see her settling beside Beth, but the girl’s restless movements suggested she wasn’t sleeping.

Sara sighed, running a hand through her hair. She caught Estaria’s eye across the dying fire. They would need to be more careful – Clara was picking up on too much.

The night deepened around them, crickets chirping in the darkness. Sara took first watch, her back against a tree trunk, ears straining for any sound that didn’t belong in the forest. Inside the tent, Clara continued to toss and turn, her sister’s steady breathing a sharp contrast to her restlessness.

Sara stoked the dying fire, adding a small branch. The flames cast dancing shadows across their small camp, barely illuminating Estaria’s troubled face. The night air carried a chill that had nothing to do with temperature.

“Do you actually have a plan?” Sara kept her voice low, mindful of the girls in the tent.

Estaria shifted, his hand unconsciously touching his pack where the ledger lay hidden. “First priority is getting the girls somewhere safe.”

“And where exactly is that?”

“Off Gaiadra entirely.” He leaned forward, the firelight deepening the shadows under his eyes. “My mother… she’s going to be queen regent soon. Her reach will extend across the whole continent.”

Sara’s fingers dug into her palms. The urge to scream at him bubbled up - about uprooting their lives, about dragging them into whatever mess he’d created. About everything they were leaving behind. But she forced herself to breathe deeply, unclenching her hands. Anger wouldn’t help the girls.

“Tidalrest, then?” she asked, proud of how steady her voice remained.

Estaria nodded, poking at the fire with a stick. “It’s our best option for finding passage elsewhere.”

“I don’t have that kind of money.” Sara’s throat tightened. Their meager savings wouldn’t cover a single passenger, let alone three.

“I’ll handle the money.” Estaria’s tone brooked no argument. “But you’re right - we can’t just walk into Tidalrest openly. We need somewhere to lay low, somewhere they won’t think to look.”

The fire crackled. A nightbird called in the distance. Sara opened her mouth, but before she could speak—

“We could stay with Gen.”

Sara and Estaria both jumped at Clara’s voice. She stood in the tent’s entrance, her nightdress wrinkled from pretending to sleep.

“Clara-” Sara started.

“Angel’s friend Gen,” Clara continued, stepping closer to the fire. “She lives in Tidalrest now. Angel used to write to her all the time.”

Sara remembered now - Genesis, the seamstress who’d moved to Tidalrest two years ago. Angel had helped her pack, had written letters back and forth until…

“Clara, you should be sleeping,” Sara said, but her mind was already turning over the possibility.

“I can’t sleep anyway.” Clara settled beside her aunt, drawing her knees up to her chest. “And Gen would help us. She loved Angel.”

Estaria’s face tightened at Angel’s name, but he nodded slowly. “She might be our best option. Would she be discrete?”

“She would,” Sara admitted. Gen had always been good at keeping confidences, at knowing when to stay quiet. “But Clara, how did you know we needed somewhere to hide?”

Clara gave her aunt a look that seemed far too old for her twelve years. “I’m not stupid. We’re running from something. Or someone.” Her eyes flicked to Estaria. “That’s why you found us so quickly, isn’t it? You knew we had to leave before she came looking.”

Sara reached out, pulling Clara close. The girl’s body trembled slightly, betraying her fear despite her brave words. “We’re going to be fine,” Sara whispered into her hair. “I promise.”

“I know.” Clara’s voice was muffled against Sara’s shoulder. “But I wish you’d just tell me what’s happening.”

As Clara settled into Sara’s embrace, Beth hesitated in the tent’s entrance, clutching Mr. Hoppy before quietly padding over. Sara opened her arms without a word, pulling Beth and Mr. Hoppy into the embrace, holding them as tightly as she dared.

Sara met Estaria’s gaze across the fire. His eyes held the same conflict she felt—the urge to shield them both, even knowing it was already too late.

They all stayed up another hour, the fire burning low as they spoke in hushed voices. No more half-truths—just quiet explanations, careful and measured. Clara asked sharp questions. Beth clung to Mr. Hoppy, listening but saying little. When their eyelids grew heavy and words became murmurs, Sara guided them to the tent, tucking them in with hands that lingered longer than usual. Sleep claimed them one by one, but Sara remained awake, watching the fire’s last embers fade.

⁂

Estaria’s feet sank into the wet sand, each step requiring extra effort. The morning sun warmed his back as he led the group along the shoreline, careful to keep them close to where the waves lapped at the beach. The packed sand there made for easier walking.

Behind him, Clara and Beth’s footsteps had grown steadier over the past few days. The first day had been rough - Beth had cried from the strain, and Clara’s determined silence had barely masked her exhaustion. But they’d grown stronger, their bodies adapting to the constant movement.

“Look!” Beth’s voice carried over the rhythmic sound of the waves. “Another blue one!”

Estaria turned to see her holding up a chunk of sapphire, roughly the size of her palm. The morning light caught its facets, sending blue sparkles dancing across her face. These finds had become their saving grace - turning their difficult journey into a treasure hunt that kept the girls engaged.

“That’s a good one,” Sara said, examining the stone. “Bigger than yesterday’s.”

The beach stretched before them, a glittering tapestry of ordinary sand interwoven with fragments of precious stones. Titanium gleamed silver, corundum added spots of red and purple, but it was the sapphire that dominated - thousands of blue fragments catching the light like fallen stars.

They walked until the sun climbed high overhead. The heat should have been oppressive, but a constant breeze off the Sapphire Sea kept them comfortable. Estaria had just started looking for a spot to rest when Beth gasped.

The world had transformed. The underlying vein of sapphire must have surged closer to the surface here, because the shallow waters had become impossibly blue. The color seemed to rise from the sea itself, painting everything in ethereal shades of azure and cobalt. Even the air appeared tinted, as if they viewed the world through stained glass.

“It’s beautiful,” Clara whispered, all pretense of being too grown up for wonder stripped away.

They stood transfixed. The waves rolled in, each one carrying that extraordinary blue. The foam itself seemed to glow with an inner light. Where the water retreated, it left the wet sand tinted turquoise.

Beth dropped to her knees, trailing her fingers through the blue-tinted sand. “It’s like magic.”

“Kind of is,” Estaria said softly. He’d heard stories of the Sapphire Sea’s beauty, but nothing had prepared him for this. The vast expanse of blue stretched to the horizon, meeting the lighter blue of the sky in a seamless gradient.

Sara sat in the sand, pulling Beth into her lap. Clara settled beside them, and for a long moment, they simply existed in that blue-washed world. The constant tension in Sara’s shoulders seemed to ease slightly as she watched the waves.

A school of fish darted through the shallows, their silver scales taking on the blue tint of the water. Seabirds wheeled overhead, their white feathers reflecting the sapphire glow from below. Even the clouds seemed touched by it, their edges tinged with cerulean.

“Can we stay here a while?” Beth asked, her voice small and wondering.

Sara glanced at Estaria, who nodded. They’d made good time these past days, and this moment felt too precious to rush past.

“We can rest here,” Sara said, running her fingers through Beth’s wind-tangled hair. “Just for a bit.”

They ate lunch there, watching the play of light on water. Clara and Beth took turns drawing patterns in the blue-tinted sand with sticks, while Sara sorted through their collection of beach treasures, selecting the best pieces to keep.

Estaria found himself relaxing despite everything. The endless blue brought a strange peace, as if the world’s troubles couldn’t quite reach them here. The waves kept their steady rhythm, the wind carried the clean scent of salt, and for a little while, they were just people on a beach, captured by its beauty.

Beth dozed off in Sara’s lap, her face peaceful. Clara had moved closer to the water, letting the blue-tinted foam wash over her feet. Her expression held the same quiet wonder it had shown when they first arrived.

The sun continued its arc overhead, and still they sat, surrounded by blue. Even as the angle of light changed, the color remained intense - as if the sea itself generated the hue rather than merely reflecting it. It was the kind of sight that burned itself into memory, that would return in dreams and quiet moments for years to come.

Estaria gazed out over the endless expanse of blue. The rhythmic waves lulled his senses, and something deep within him shifted. The world tilted, and suddenly he stood at the bottom of the ocean. Pressure should have crushed him, yet he felt nothing but wonder as massive flows of molten rock surged beneath his feet.

The lava glowed orange-red, illuminating the darkness of the deep. As it cooled, crystals formed - sapphire, titanium, and corundum emerging from the same volcanic birth. The minerals mixed and flowed together, pushed upward through cracks in the seafloor. The process felt ancient and eternal, a cycle that had repeated countless times.

Reality snapped back like a rubber band. Estaria blinked, his feet once again planted firmly in the warm sand of the beach.

“The sapphire comes from lava flows under the ocean,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “The heat and pressure create the crystals, and they get pushed up through the seafloor.”

Clara nodded, seemingly accepting this as perfectly normal information. Beth continued drawing patterns in the blue-tinted sand, equally unfazed.

Sara’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharp and questioning. Estaria felt the weight of her stare but kept his eyes fixed on the waves. There was no reasonable explanation for how he knew that. He’d never studied geology, never even left the farm before recent events. The knowledge had simply appeared in his mind, as real as any memory.

His head spun. What had just happened? He tried to grasp the experience, but it slipped away like water through his fingers. Only the facts remained, clear and certain as if he’d known them all his life.

“Estaria! Sara!” Beth’s voice cut through his confusion. “Come look at this!”

Clara joined in. “Why isn’t the water blue up there?”

Grateful for the distraction, Estaria walked toward where the girls stood pointing. A river mouth opened into the sea nearby, its waters a normal, transparent brown-green. The contrast was striking - the clear river water meeting the intense blue of the Sapphire Sea created a distinct line where they merged.

The sand changed too. The glittering blue-tinted grains gave way to ordinary beige where the river deposited its sediment. Small waves lapped at both shores, mixing the waters in swirling patterns of blue and clear.

Estaria’s feet sank into the softer riverbank sand as he approached. The river curved inland, disappearing behind a line of sturdy coastal trees. Their branches swayed in the constant sea breeze, dropping occasional leaves into the flowing water.

“The river doesn’t have any sapphire in it,” he said, forcing his mind to focus on the present moment. The ordinary sight of river meeting sea helped ground him after his strange vision. “It’s only the seawater that’s blue because of all the tiny pieces of sapphire mixed in.”

Beth crouched down, picking up handfuls of sand from each side of where the waters met. “Look! This side sparkles and this side doesn’t!”

Estaria’s gaze drifted across the treeline, and he froze. Through the gaps in the foliage, dark wood gleamed. The unmistakable curve of a ship’s hull nestled among the trees, hidden from the sea but visible from their position on the riverbank.

“Sara,” he called softly, not taking his eyes from the vessel. “Come look at this.”

Sara gathered the girls, and they followed Estaria as he picked his way through the undergrowth. The schooner’s size became apparent as they drew closer - easily large enough for ocean travel, with reinforced sides of rich, dark wood that spoke of quality craftsmanship.

As they circled the vessel, Estaria’s hand traced the smooth planking. The wood had been treated with something that left it feeling like polished stone. Halfway around, his fingers encountered a change in texture. A lighter wood had been inlaid against the dark background, forming an intricate design of a sun rising over stylized waves.

“It’s beautiful,” Clara whispered, reaching up to touch the pattern herself.

The ground around the ship held evidence of regular maintenance - brushes with stiff bristles lay neatly arranged beside pots of sealant and wood stain. The sharp smell of pine tar lingered in the air. Someone had built a small workbench under the trees, its surface clean but marked with years of use.

Estaria studied the vessel more closely. Weather had left its mark - slight warping here, sun-bleaching there - but every sign of wear had been meticulously addressed. No rot touched the wood, no rust marked the fittings. Even the rope coiled on deck looked fresh and well-maintained.

“Should we look inside?” Beth asked, already moving toward the gangplank.

“Careful,” Sara cautioned, but followed her up.

The deck creaked softly under their feet. Near the helm, Estaria found a leather-bound book. Opening it revealed columns of neat figures - weights, dates, cargo manifests. He flipped through several pages, frowning.

“Just looks like shipping records,” he said, but something felt off. Why hide such a well-maintained vessel here, away from any port? Why maintain it so carefully if it was just for regular trade?

Estaria’s hands trembled slightly as he repositioned the ledger. The leather cover settled against the wood with a soft thump. Each item needed to return to its exact position - anything out of place would signal their presence.

“Come on, girls,” Sara whispered, already moving down the gangplank.

Beth opened her mouth, probably to protest, but Clara grabbed her hand and pulled her along. Smart girl. She’d picked up on the tension.

Estaria followed, careful to avoid the spots that had creaked on their way up. His boot caught a loose splinter, and he paused to smooth it back into place with his thumb. The treated wood felt oddly warm under his touch.

Back on solid ground, Sara set a brisk pace toward the beach. Beth stumbled on a root, but Clara steadied her before she fell. The undergrowth scratched at their clothes, leaving traces of their passage. Estaria took a moment to bend branches back into place, obscuring their trail.

The blue-tinted beach welcomed them back, but its earlier magic had dissolved into an unsettling alien landscape. Even the constant waves felt ominous now, their rhythm too regular, too watching.

“Let’s move quickly,” he said, scanning the horizon. Nothing but blue in every direction. “We want to cover some distance before dark.”

Sara nodded, already steering the girls east. Beth’s earlier wonder had faded into exhaustion, her feet dragging in the sand. Clara maintained her usual quiet determination, but her shoulders drooped.

They walked until the sun hung low over the water, painting everything in shades of amber and gold. The blue tint faded as they traveled, returning to normal beach colors. Estaria’s legs ached, but he pressed on, checking behind them every few minutes.

“There,” Sara pointed to a cluster of weather-worn rocks rising from the sand. “We can shelter there for the night.”

The formation created a natural windbreak, with enough space between the rocks for their small group. Beach grass grew in sparse clumps, providing some cushioning from the sand. More importantly, the rocks would hide their fire from the sea.

Beth collapsed dramatically onto her bedroll. “My feet hurt.”

“Mine too,” Clara admitted, settling beside her sister.

Sara started unpacking their supplies while Estaria gathered driftwood. The salt-soaked wood would smoke, but the wind would disperse it quickly enough. His hands moved automatically, arranging the kindling, but his mind kept drifting back to that ship.

The fire caught easily. Sara heated water for tea while the girls huddled close to the flames. The sun sank lower, shadows stretching across the sand. Estaria found himself counting the waves, using their rhythm to mark time.

Movement on the horizon caught his eye. He squinted against the glare of sunset. There - a dark shape cutting through the waves. As it drew closer, details emerged. Dark wood hull, gleaming with that same stone-like finish. The same vessel, or its twin.

The schooner moved steadily eastward, its sails full with the evening wind. Estaria held his breath until it passed, disappearing into the gathering dusk. Sara hadn’t noticed, focused on preparing their meal. The girls dozed by the fire, exhausted from the day’s travel.

He should tell Sara. But what would he say? That he’d seen a ship sailing? There was nothing inherently suspicious about that. Except… except for that careful maintenance in a hidden dock. Except for that too-neat ledger. Except for the way his instincts screamed danger.

The waves kept their steady rhythm as darkness settled over the beach. Stars emerged, their light competing with the dying fire. Clara and Beth slept deeply, their faces peaceful in the fading firelight. Sara arranged their bedrolls closer to the rocks, where the sand retained some of the day’s warmth.

Estaria volunteered for first watch, settling himself where he could see both the sea and the beach. The moon rose, painting a silver path across the water. He traced its reflection, remembering the blue magic of morning. How quickly wonder could turn to worry.

His fingers found a smooth stone in his pocket - one of Beth’s sapphire pieces. In the moonlight, it looked almost black. He rolled it between his fingers, feeling its edges, letting its solid presence anchor him to the moment.

The waves continued their endless dance with the shore. Estaria counted them, matching his breathing to their rhythm. One hundred waves. Two hundred. The moon climbed higher. Three hundred waves. Four hundred.

Behind him, Sara stirred. “My turn,” she whispered. “Get some rest.”

Estaria nodded, passing her the sapphire piece. She accepted it without comment, finding her own spot among the rocks. He lay down, but sleep proved elusive. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear the waves. Could imagine that dark ship moving through the night, carrying its secrets eastward.