The wind howled across the open deck of the Starborne, a long-range vessel retrofitted from the Ashbound fleet to cut through the storms of the western sea. Kaelin stood at the prow, her cloak billowing behind her, eyes locked on the horizon where the mists swallowed the edge of the world. Somewhere beyond those rolling waves and jagged clouds lay the Outer Isles—and with them, Veyra.
It had been two weeks since they left the Hollow. Two weeks of silence and preparation, of half-whispered legends from the sailors about the isles once called the Teeth of the World. Islands said to be cursed, cracked by ancient magic and drowned in ghostlight. Most had refused the voyage outright. Only the loyal and the brave remained.
Theron joined her without a word, his hand resting briefly at the small
