The Prince and the Serpent

Dorchas

The lamp faded away into nothingness with the shore and still they went on, gliding silently across the black water. There were no stars, no moon, no lamps, no light of any kind. Boruto couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. At the time, he had thought this was the right thing to do but here, in the dark with nothing to reassure him but the feel of the wood beneath him and the feel of Mitsuki's body beside him, he was less sure. He kept his face turned forward and gripped Mitsuki's hand. The darkness and silence were terrifying but he was more afraid to look back and see the boatman's grey stars staring at him.

As time stretched on, his dread rose. The darkness felt endless and he was afraid he had just lead all of them to their doom. He inched backwards until his body was flush against Mitsuki's, searching for comfort in the dark as he squeezed his hand harder. Mitsuki squeezed his hand in return and pressed his body firmly against Boruto's, providing the security he was craving. Boruto jumped when he felt Mitsuki's other arm snake around his middle but then he relaxed into his hold. He felt Mitsuki's chin rest on his shoulder. His breath tickled his ear and sent pleasant shivers down his spine in spite of his fear.

"It's okay, Boruto. I am here." Mitsuki whispered. Boruto couldn't help himself, he placed his free hand over Mitsuki's and he allowed himself to enjoy Mitsuki's comfort in the pitch black away from prying eyes.

Out in the distance, an orange light gradually winked into existence. Slowly, others joined it to float above the water in the inky black. Their auras reflected off of the swirling mist and built upon each other until the distant sky appeared to be burning. Boruto leaned forward in awe, releasing his death-grip on Mitsuki as he did. He leaned forward, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. He was only just aware of the tightening of Mitsuki's hold.

One by one, lopsided and rugged buildings materialized from the veil of mist. The shacks stood on raised rough-wood platforms in haphazard fashion about ten to fifteen feet above the surface of the water. As they approached, it became clear that an entire rickety city stood in the middle of the inky lake and ghost-like trees. This was the floating city of Dorchas.

Boruto had heard stories of the city before but nothing he had heard was anything like what he was seeing now. He continued to stare openly as their tiny vessel slid smoothly alongside a low dock and stopped between two matching lamps in wrought iron stands. One at a time, they climbed from the boat making the weather-worn boards groan loudly in protest beneath their feet. Boruto paused to gather his courage, then turned to thank the boatman but it was an empty boat that met his eyes. The boatman was gone. The shock was almost enough to topple him from the dock and into the placid water but Mitsuki gripped his shoulders and steadied him. Boruto instantly latched onto the pale Prince.

"Where did he go?!" His voice cracked as he shrieked and squeezed Mitsuki.

"Boruto! Will you keep your voice down? We should at least attempt to blend in." Sarada chided him for his outburst.

"But, he's gone! He was here, and now he's just... gone!" Boruto babbled as he looked over his shoulder at her and pointed animatedly at the boat all while clinging to Mitsuki.

"I'm not surprised." She said with a roll of her black eyes and a shrug of her shoulders, "I've come to accept that anything is possible while following your dumb ass around. Come on, we need to find an inn." She turned her back on the Princes and walked towards a rickety and splintery looking staircase that lead to the upper level. Boruto pouted after her, then he released Mitsuki and followed. The planks on the dock squeaked and the stairs groaned as they climbed but otherwise felt surprisingly solid.

At the top of the stairs, Boruto was met with the strangest city he had ever laid eyes on. The wooden platforms that made up the streets and foundation of the city were rough and mismatched. They were all about even but there were some places where the platforms differed in height by as much as six inches. The buildings were arranged on either side of a twenty foot wide thoroughfare where people came and went. The sides of the 'street' were lined with matching wrought iron lamps, each lit with a tiny yellow/orange flame that beat back the heavy velvet darkness and made the city glow warmly in the black mist.