Disguise
964 Words
Thalia set Nyx on the table before turning to the mirror.
For a moment, she simply stared.
The same girl stared back at her—the one who had spent years trapped in this quiet house, watching the sea from a distance, dreaming instead of living.
Tonight, that girl would disappear.
Nyx squawked sharply as Thalia reached for the scissors.
“Sorry,” she murmured softly.
She gathered a fistful of her rich auburn hair. Her hand trembled slightly as she paused.
Her father used to say her hair was just like her mother’s—warm copper, soft waves. She had never met her mother, so her hair had always been her closest connection. A piece of someone she had never had.
For a moment, the weight of that almost stopped her.
Almost.
The thought stung—but it also hardened something deep inside her.
Snip.
The first lock fell to the wooden floor.
Nyx flapped her wings in alarm.
“Too late now,” Thalia muttered.
She worked quickly, cutting until her hair barely brushed her neck—short enough to hide beneath a worn sailor’s cap. Uneven, rough but effective.
When she finally lowered the scissors, she lifted her gaze to the mirror.
The girl was gone.
In her place stood someone sharper.
Less noticeable.
“Not bad,” she whispered.
Nyx had hopped onto the bed, tilting her sleek black head, golden eyes watching with clear judgment.
“You don’t have to look so impressed.”
Nyx gave a soft, unimpressed caw.
Thalia exhaled.
Even if she managed to sneak aboard, a young unmarried woman appearing later would raise too many questions. Questions she couldn’t afford.
A disguise was a necessity.
She grabbed her satchel and began packing quickly. Her father’s journal went in first, followed by a worn map, and finally a few writing materials.
By the time she finished, the sun hung halfway across the sky.
Ships would be loading.
Time was slipping.
“It’s time,” she whispered.
Thalia slipped from her room and crept downstairs, careful to avoid the creak of old wood beneath her feet. She exited through the kitchen, stepping into the warm afternoon air scented with bread and sea wind.
Her gaze caught on something nearby.
A rough sailor’s shirt hung from a neighbor’s laundry line, swaying gently.
She glanced around.
No one.
With a quick motion, she grabbed it and slipped back inside.
Laughter drifted from the library—Aunt Bree and her friends lost in conversation over tea.
Perfect.
Thalia moved quickly down the hallway and into her aunt’s room. Kneeling, she reached beneath the bed and pulled out a familiar black travel bag.
Her father’s.
The last thing of his that remained untouched.
She opened it slowly.
Inside were two worn shirts, two pairs of trousers, and a sturdy pair of boots—all carrying the faint scent of salt and tar.
“This will do,” she whispered.
She hurried back to her room, pushing the door open and startling Nyx into flight.
“Sorry, girl.”
Thalia stripped quickly, grabbing a long strip of cloth from the cupboard. She wrapped it tightly around her chest, pulling firm until her breathing shortened slightly. She winced as she tied the final knot but didn’t stop.
Then she dressed.
The stolen sailor’s shirt hung loose on her frame, just right. She pulled on her father’s trousers, securing them with a belt before tucking them neatly into the heavy boots.
The look came together.
Almost.
She grabbed a bit of charcoal and smeared it along her jaw and cheekbones, dulling the softness of her face, adding roughness to her face.
When she stepped back to the mirror again, a thin deckhand stared back.
Unremarkable.
Forgettable.
Perfect.
Nyx hopped onto her shoulder.
“You ready?” Thalia asked quietly.
The bird ruffled her feathers in response.
Thalia slid her satchel over her shoulders, steadying herself.
Before leaving, she scribbled a short note to Aunt Bree—an apology, and a promise that one day she would explain everything.
From the harbor came the low groan of ropes tightening.
They were preparing to leave.
“Time to go.”
She climbed out her window, gripping the uneven edges of the wall as she carefully descended before dropping lightly into the narrow alley below.
Night was settling over the harbor. Lanterns flickered to life along the docks, reflecting across dark water. The air carried the scent of salt, tar, and distant rain.
They moved through the shadows until they reached the harbor.
The ship stood waiting.
A medium-sized cargo vessel, its dark hull looming above the dock. Lanterns burned along its rails while sailors shouted orders and hauled crates aboard.
Thalia blended into the chaos as she grabbed a medium-sized crate, holding it close as she moved with purpose.
No one questioned another skinny dockhand.
She kept her head low, mimicking the careless, tired stride she had seen countless times.
Her heart pounded louder than the waves.
A guard near the gangplank glanced at her.
“Cargo’s already loaded,” he muttered.
“Cap’n said extra hands.”
The man barely looked at her.
“Fine. Get moving.”
He waved her through.
Just like that.
The wood creaked beneath her boots as Thalia stepped onto the gangplank
Above, Nyx disappeared into the rigging.
When Thalia reached the deck, something inside her shifted.
A thrill.
She had done it.
She was on the ship.
She set the crate down beside a stack of barrels and leaned lightly against them, her gaze drifting outward.
The sea stretched endlessly ahead.
The moon hung low on the horizon.
A slow smile spread across her face.
“Alright, world,” she whispered into the wind.
“Here I come.”
- Writer
