The Princess and the Blood of Eternity

Chapter 1: Fire on the Open Ocean

Fire on the Open Ocean

To truly live, one must embrace death.

Therein lies the dilemma of the Blood of Eternity. To grasp immortality requires a rejection of the soul. And a creature without a soul must already be dead.

Hence the inherent contradiction. Woe to thee, who sacrifices the spirit to acquire the fountain of life, for they will find nothing but eternal damnation.

~ Historical footnote, the 82nd curator of the Great Library, Allabarra Northern Province

A young man by the name of Cleo stood on the bow of a two-mast trade ship watching the ocean pass beneath a cloudless sky. The wood beneath his feet pulsed with heat as the sun beat down on his tanned neck and shoulders. Leaning over the edge of the boat, he kept a careful hold on the rope tied from the foremast as ocean spray dotted his arms and face.

Today, his focus was consumed by a dark cloud of smoke hanging on the horizon. The location being in the middle of the ocean and the fact he could see smoke at such a distance meant that it had to be the result of a ship fire. A bad sign for anyone on the receiving end of those flames when there was no escape other than jumping overboard. Not to mention they were a half day's worth of sailing to the nearest island. A choice between being burned alive or swimming with sharks was not an ideal situation.

Problems often arose due to the fact that most ships used pitch and resin to seal their wooden hulls, which made them into literal tinder boxes. Ship crews routinely took great care when handling cook fires or lanterns. So, whoever they were, it seemed they had not been careful enough.

Unfortunately, to redirect their ship and go around meant major delays, especially if the wind failed to hold. Meaning that Cleo would be unable to make any split decisions, else he was liable to go afoul with their shipping deadline.

With the end of the trade season fast approaching, the need to complete their return journey from the western frontier could not be higher. Yes, they had a deadline, but at some point summer was going to arrive spelling an end to the westerly winds.

This year, his crew had focused on foodstuffs. Bought from a collection of villages along the edge of the Western Frontier, which was the furthest any trader typically dared travel with the hope of a speedy return. Of course navigating the outer reaches of the Western Ocean was not an exact science, but given the skill of the crew and their speed of their vessel, they typically had few issues making the trek.

Their journey, so far, had gone well enough. Meaning, if it weren't for a few irate villagers demanding exceedingly high prices on a resupply of fresh water, he might say the season had been above average.

No matter, their ship's hold was now packed with rice and barley, stored inside brown burlap bags. The mix left the hull smelling of dust and starch with a hint of nuts from the barley. Food was easy to store. And Cleo preferred easy. Plus, they had the added benefit that food was never turned away in the larger island-city ports, though the price had a habit of fluctuating wildly. Hence, it was important to have and keep a contract and deadline.

A half hour had passed, and the smoke had remained in the same spot. If they wanted to avoid the fire, they would have to perform a dramatic course correction.

Abnormalities with the weather, hotter summers, colder winters, and increasingly potent storms. Cleo didn't know of a single island that had escaped the abhorrent shift in weather patterns. However, as obvious as the problems were, the people still found time to make things worse. Such as fighting over the remaining resources or increasing the deforestation of the islands. A mentality that said grab while they could.