RISEN | ONC 2024

8 | The Lost Sanctuary

Heran had never been more grateful to sail on restful waters until today. With exhaustion overtaking him, he slumped down against the mast of The Lillycove, his queasy stomach finally settling while his eyes observed the thick mist that had swallowed the sloop after their departure from the turbulent open sea.

"Praise, El Olam," Heran muttered. He wiped the sweat from his brow and stood, stumbling through the doors of the captain's quarters, where he found Ackie leaning over the navigation table.

"We should be close," she said, sensing his presence.

"Should?" he asked.

"Determining our exact position while trapped in the mist is difficult. Swaan Tull has become a lost relic of the old world, but never did I expect it to be deliberately hidden by nature."

Heran sighed and rubbed the dark sockets under his eyes. "Perhaps that is why it remains a sanctuary. The Dragoness cannot destroy what she cannot find."

Ackie tapped the island marker with her finger. "What if this was a mistake?"

"What do you mean?"

Ackie massaged the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, standing in silence while taking a long, controlled inhale and exhale. "Just a feeling."

Leaving no room for doubt to interfere, Heran put a hand on the she-elf's shoulder, offering a pledge of confidence as she met his gaze.

"It will be alright. Once the ship docks, we find someone to transcribe the map. These people will barely know we are under their noses. Trust in El Olam to chart our course accordingly. In His design, there are no mistakes."

Ackie smiled. "Trust Him indeed. Thank you, Heran."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The floorboards above them shuddered under the impact of heavy boots.

Heran and Ackie investigated by departing the captain's quarters. They came outside onto the deck, the mist appearing to have started to clear as they turned their attention to the young dwarf at the sloop's helm.

"You knocked?" said Heran.

"You are going to want to come up and see this," Zonis said.

Heran obliged and joined the dwarf's side on the captain's perch. As he stared ahead, behind the white sail, the striking silhouette of an island was unveiled.

A tall rock spire rose from its center, a landmark beacon that narrowed near the tip while increasing in size towards the base. Shipping docks extended like multiple arms from the mainland, harbouring many galleon and brigantine ships that fortified the island with a seemingly impenetrable force. That amount of cannon power would blow an unwanted ship out of the water.

Heran jumped down the steps onto The Lillycove's main deck and approached the front of the hull. Rays of sunshine basked the sloop in a welcoming sunrise, the serene turquoise water sparkling like diamonds as it was touched by the light.

Heran closed his eyes and smiled. It had been months since he'd felt the proper warmth of the sun. However, the longer he stood in its radiance, Heran realized something was wrong.

"What is it?" Ackie asked, appearing next to him with her arms crossed.

"The sun," Heran said, hesitating before speaking the next words. "It feels cold."

The she-elf touched his arm in concern, then walked into the full embrace of the light. She took a staggered breath and furrowed her brows.

"Well?" Heran wondered. "Should we turn back?"