In the dimly lit room, the air was thick with the scent of dampness and something else I couldn't quite place, maybe it was the faint sickening sweet smell of necrosis that lingered in my mind. The table in front of me bore the weight of Kath's corpse, her body haphazardly wrapped in cloth that barely concealed the lifeless form beneath. The fabric was soaked, clinging to her as the weight of the water pressed on her.
Others sat around the table, their faces cast in shadow, their expressions unreadable. No one spoke. There were no words that could cut through the oppressive silence that had settled over us. I couldn't tell if they were mourning, or if they were too shocked, too numb to process what had just happened. Maybe they were waiting for someone to say something, to acknowledge the reality that had crashed down upon us like the storm outside.
Yet, I couldn't. I just... stared. My eyes were locked on the form that was once Kath, the woman who had been full of life just moments before. Her face was obscured by the rough cloth, but I couldn't even remember what she was like before she was a corpse. It was a gunshot, then nothing. Just a stillness that consumed everything.
My thoughts circled the same, unanswerable questions, but there was no solace in them, no clarity. The gun, my hand, the shot, I knew it was me, and yet I couldn't feel it. It was like I was outside of myself, watching from a distance as I did something so drastic.
I wanted to feel something, anything—a rush of guilt, of sorrow, of rage. Instead, I felt nothing. It was as if my mind had already accepted this was meant to happen the moment it did. Just an empty numbness that settled deep into my bones, paired with the coldness of my soaked clothes.
The sound of the storm outside was a dull roar, barely audible over the silence in the room. The rain pounded against the metal of the ship, echoing the hollow beat of my heart. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the shrouded form on the table, yet it was still not out of guilt.
Out of the silence, there was a faint murmur, but it grew, words barely audible over the pounding rain outside. I turned slightly, seeing one of the ship's crew, his head bowed, his hands gripping his chest tightly as if he could anchor himself through sheer force of will.
His voice trembled, each word laced with a desperate kind of resolve, a prayer of sort.
""By the will of Tempestus, keeper of the storm and guardian of the void... grant me the courage to stand against the winds of fate. Let the tempest pass over us, sparing those who walk your path, and forgive our transgressions in the eye of your fury. I thank you for the breath in my lungs, for the pulse in my veins..."
He gripped his chest tighter with each word, as though the act of praying might pull him through the terror that still lingered in the room. His voice was steadying, but there was no denying the fear that quivered beneath the surface. There was a growing hope in him as he voiced his prayers, or perhaps, he had tricked himself out of desperation.
My gaze drifted from him, my thoughts still muddled and disconnected, and found Ash. She was sitting a little ways off, closer to the table, her eyes locked on Kath's corpse. The distraught expression on her face was like a knife twisting in my chest, a raw feeling of disbelief. In between all the pain she felt for her, I could also sense a feeling of guilt as she placed her hand on Kath's, softly gripping it through the cloth. She still believed it was possible to save her from Singularity's grasp, and it pains her that she supposedly failed. She hadn't moved from that spot since it happened, frozen as if she hoped to turn back time by sheer will.
For a moment, she didn't notice I was watching her. I could see it all, the silent war raging within her, the blame she placed on herself for not saving Kath, for not holding on tighter, for not doing more. As the short moment passed, almost as if she sensed my gaze, she turned to look at me.
The transformation was immediate, her face twisting with a sudden surge of anger, of disgust, but I had expected it. Her eyes burned with a kind of fury I hadn't seen before, a visceral reaction that was trying to burn me down with guilt. She didn't say anything, she didn't have to. The look she gave me was enough to tell me everything she thought of me in that moment.
I didn't try to say anything, there was nothing to say to her to change anything, and even if there was, the words would die in my throat. Her gaze cut through me, making it clear that whatever fragile connection we might have had was shattered.
I wanted to apologise, to ease the chasm we had made between each other, but for some reason, I just had nothing to apologise for. She turned away, dismissing me as if I were nothing, as if things would be different if I weren't here. Somehow, someway, I knew it was going to turn out this way no matter what.
Without realising it, the relentless rain had faded to a mere whisper, then disappeared altogether. The ship's movements, which I had experienced the worst of during the storm, suddenly ceased. The subtle vibrations beneath my feet dulled, then stopped altogether. We've reached our destination.
Port Botanik, one of the many harbors dotting the shores of Edynis. The journey had been unruly, but somehow, we'd made it through. The ship's engine died down, it's humming that cascaded through layers of hull silenced.
