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★★★
CHAPTER FIFTY:
DENIAL
★★★
The sea was black and endless.
Luke stood at the edge of the deck, fingers curled around the wooden railing, staring out at the dark water. The moon hung low and thin, barely enough to light the waves. In the distance, he could make out the shapes of the other ships. The shadows gliding through the ocean beside them. Quiet, and steady.
Merlen was probably under the sea by now, or on fire, he thinks. He didn't know what exactly happened to an island like that when it was burnt to pieces. To be honest, he didn't want to think about it. Once again, he had no home, nor did any of them anymore.
Most of the people on board had taken a sleeping potion. Hermione and most of the adults had handed them out themselves, voice calm but hollow, saying it would help with shock and that everyone needed rest. Help with rest, or help with the nightmares. Hermione herself was reluctant to take one, rather instead she wished to stay awake to ensure Ron would be okay but Molly and Arthur chose to stay away awake with him instead.
Luke doubted his eye would heal, as far as he could tell there was nothing left.
He turned slowly and looked across the deck. The citizens lay everywhere. There were blankets pulled up to chins. Some people slept curled into each other, children lay between their parents. Others lay flat on their backs, faces pale in the faint lantern light. A few had tear tracks still drying on their cheeks.
It didn't look like sleep, Luke thought it looked like collapse.
The ships themselves were pretty large. Luke thought it silly at the time that Damien advised they build them but it may have been the smartest thing they ever did. Below the deck there were small rooms, a narrow hallway, a proper kitchen stocked with preserved food and barrels of water.
He moved quietly across the wooden boards, careful not to step on anyone's hand or foot. The ship creaked gently under his weight, sails shifting in the soft wind.
Luke sat down near the railing and pulled his knees up, resting his forearms on them. He stared at the water, and he had not cried yet. He wasn't sure why. He felt sad. In fact, he had probably never felt as worse as he did right now. He didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to eat or cry. Maybe if he started to cry, he wouldn't stop. Or maybe because there wasn't time. Maybe because all he could think now was, where do we go from here?
