45. Vinicola

45

Vinicola

Meanwhile...

I was certain today would drag me down to the murkiest depths of misery, beyond even the finest spirits’ reach. That dream of home had seen to it—the way it wove itself into my sleep, so vivid and unforgiving in its half-finished cruelty.

I saw her, my mother, like a sunlit apparition, almost whole. Her floral dress laced up snug around her waist, that little umbrella she always carried perched on her shoulder, her hair spilling in soft waves down her back like honeyed silk.

Everything was just so—right there, as if I’d just left her for a moment’s stroll down the road. But her face? That, cruelly, was lost to me. Blurred, wiped clean by two long years of salt air and bitter sea spray. And I’m not one to forget the important things—oh no—but it seems even my mother’s face hasn’t withstood the relentless winds of the Archipelago.

Just as I thought, I am a man lost.

So yes, I was rather miserable. Perhaps more than a touch. But then… then I saw this .

A vast, flat stretch, dotted with stones so bright they look like fragments of some forgotten world. Pebbles the size of my hand, each one glowing violet under the moon’s gaze, blanketing the ground like stars plucked right out of the night sky. It’s as if every single one of them stole a piece of some ancient constellation, a bit of magic just lying here, scattered without a care.

A thousand tiny miracles.

“Oh, Miss Captain,” I breathe, stepping off the skiff as my boots sink into this carpet of stardust. And suddenly, just like that, the ache in my chest loosens a touch. The fears, the shadows—they lift, just enough to let me breathe easy. Even if only for this wondrous, fleeting moment.

“Isn’t that something?” she mutters. Her sharp eyes, usually cutting through everything, have softened and widened. For a second, she doesn’t look like the fierce captain I know. She looks… a bit gentler. Still like the sea’s own daughter, but more… lenient.

She steps forward, her boots crunching over the stones as she bends down to touch one, holding it delicately in her fingers. Under the moonlight, her dark hair catches a silvery sheen, and I can’t help but marvel at her—just as much as I marvel at this place.

So different from what I know, and yet so beautiful.

“It’s more than something,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s like someone went and stole a slice of heaven, just so us land-folk could feel a bit of awe.”

She raises an eyebrow, but I can tell—she feels it, too. She’d never admit it, though. Would probably call it “hogwash” before letting me catch her in such a sentiment.

Still, I know a place like this isn’t meant for me. Not in her company. It’s the kind of spot you’d see in a love song, for a pair of star-crossed souls, not a foolish bard who talks to himself and gets into scrapes and his captain. No, she’d probably rather be here with Zayan. Now that’s a pair the stars would bless.

But I’m here, and I make fine company regardless.

“Imagine if Solis is like this, but even grander,” I muse, my voice drifting like a dream. “Golden crystals scattered across the ground… mountains carved like ancient statues… forests with trees that glow from within…”

Oh, I see it all so clearly in my mind’s eye.

But before I get too far in my daydream, she snaps me back with a sharp shake of her head. “Hold up, Vini,” she says, crossing her arms, the edge in her voice returning. “You think this place is harmless just because it’s pretty? Keep your eyes open.”

Right. Eyes open, ears alert. A beautiful place doesn’t mean a safe one. Nicoleta, after all, was as dazzling as any gem, all sweetness until she turned venomous. If not for Miss Captain, Nicoleta’s father would’ve had me roasting over a flame by now. And that’s not a figure of speech—Dorian genuinely roasts his enemies.

Oh, what Mother would say if she knew I almost met my end that way. I can practically hear her voice now, echoing across the seas, “Vinicola! Roasted! Have you no shame? No common sense?” But if I make it back to her, I’ll tell her all about Miss Captain’s daring rescue. She’d love it, I’m sure. She’d probably toast to Miss Captain herself, demand a thank-you feast, maybe even tease Fabien until that serious face of his cracked. Quite a sight, that would be.

Gypsy strides ahead, her boots stirring up tiny clouds of dust with each step. I keep close behind, attempting—perhaps in vain—to match her near-silent tread. Every step I take echoes a bit louder than I’d like in the quiet around us, but Miss Captain doesn’t seem to notice or mind. She’s already focused on one of her two compasses, flipping it open and studying it with that cool, calculating gaze of hers.

“We came from the southeast,” she murmurs, tilting her head just so, absorbed in the art of navigation. “Center of the island should be northwest from here.”

I watch her, feeling a little awestruck, if I’m honest. She’s so locked in, so ready to charge into the unknown even if we might not like what we find here. It’s impressive—and a touch intimidating. But, as these things tend to go, a thought nudges its way to the front of my mind, one I should likely keep tucked away but simply can’t.

“Actually…” I say, waving my hands. “Are we absolutely sure we’ll know what we’re after when we find it? Look around, Miss Captain! Every rock here looks like it was polished by the gods themselves. The whole island practically glows! How are we supposed to know what’s worth pocketing?”

I flash her a grin, hoping to coax even a hint of a smile. Just a little one. But instead, she stops and turns to look over her shoulder, one brow slightly raised.

“That’s… a very good question,” she mutters, her voice almost contemplative. “Think we should take one of those rocks with us? You know, just in case?”

I peer down at the nearest pebble—perfectly unremarkable, yet suddenly magnificent in its ordinariness. Before I know it, I’ve plucked it up, holding it out like a prize.

“Well,” I muse, giving it a little spin in my fingers, “if it’s just lying here, waiting for the right hands… who are we to deny destiny?”

She scoffs, but I catch a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“Destiny, huh?” Her voice dances along the edge of sarcasm. “Let’s hope not. But anyway, let’s keep moving.”

I slip the pebble into my pocket and fall in step behind her. We weave through the field of these glittering stones, which I’ve decided to dub “star-stones” because, well, they practically shimmer like the night sky scattered across the ground. My muscles burn with each step, still aching from our run through the expanding sands the day before.

The scenery is nothing short of mesmerizing. It doesn’t change much, mind you, but somehow, with each step, it feels like a new scene unfolds—a trick of light, perhaps, or maybe something magical in the air. It’s as if we’re marching through some enchanted mirror where the horizon never quite sits still. The stars above and the stones below blend into each other, forming this endless, dizzying tapestry, and it’s hard to tell where the earth ends and the heavens begin.

My head spins a bit. Just a bit .

“Steady, Vini,” Gypsy murmurs as she brushes past me, catching the hint of a wobble in my step.

“Right, steady as… whatever these star-stones are.” I shake off the haze, trying to focus. “Though, can’t say it’s easy when the ground itself seems bewitched, don’t you think?”

She lets out this soft laugh, a sound that seems to drift through the air, settling everywhere and nowhere all at once. “Aye, I know what you mean.”

We walk on.

Time stretches thin, or maybe it’s not even passing at all. I feel like I’m floating, not really here but somewhere else entirely. And as breathtaking as it is, something prickles at the back of my mind—a strange, nagging unease. It’s as if the stars are watching, biding their time, waiting for one wrong step to swallow us whole. I slow down, fixing my gaze on the ground beneath me, willing it to stay solid. But… is it really solid?

For a heart-thumping moment, I wonder… am I even standing on the earth? Or have I somehow stumbled onto the stars themselves?

“Miss Captain?” I call out, my voice cracking a little, only to look up and find her gone. Just like that.

“What…?” The word slips out, barely a whisper. “Miss Captain?”

And then—thank goodness—there’s a hand, warm and firm, landing on my shoulder. I whirl around, heart racing, and find her standing right there, one eyebrow cocked, a glint of something between amusement and concern in her eyes.

“Vini?” she says, her voice low, grounding me instantly. “What’s going on?”

“I… I could’ve sworn you were right in front of me,” I manage, laughing nervously, the sound almost foreign to my own ears. “I looked down for just a second, and when I looked back… gone. Like you vanished.”

Her brow lifts, and there’s the faintest trace of a smirk. “Vanished? I’ve been here all along. You’re the one who wandered off.”

I let out a huff, another weak laugh, trying to shake it off. “Is that so? Guess that’s what I get for letting my mind roam free in a place like this, eh?”

Still, I could have sworn…

She squeezes my shoulder, her eyes softening just a bit. “Keep that head on straight, Vini. You don’t want to get lost out here. Places like this… I’m not sure how I’d find you if you got lost.”

Her words linger in the air, sending a little shiver down my spine. Everything here looks the same, doesn’t it? It would be way too easy to lose her, to lose myself in all this… strange.

I nod, swallowing hard. “Understood, Miss Captain.”

But as I keep walking, eyes fixed on her, the strange feeling just won’t leave me. Out of nowhere, there’s a flicker of movement in the distance—a shadow shifting among the stars. I freeze, squinting. There, just barely visible, is... something. A figure, all shadows and edges, like smoke gliding over moonlight. My eyes can’t look away.

“Miss Captain,” I murmur, my voice taut. She needs to see it.

But when I turn to check, she’s gone. Gone again .

“Miss Captain!” I call, louder this time.

The silence presses in, the vastness swallowing my words, and a cold sweat pricks at the back of my neck. The stars seem to dance, circling above me like a slow waltz. They’re blurring. Or… am I the one blurring?

Am I still standing? It feels like I’m floating, drifting in all this… strange…

“Miss Captain!” I call again, my voice tighter, edged with desperation. “Where are you?”

Then, as if slipping through the air, her voice murmurs close to my ear. “Vini.” Just my name, soft as silk. I whip around, but there’s no one there—only that shadowy figure in the distance, its form sharpened but shifting, as though it’s held together by smoke and a trick of the light.

Is it… watching me?

Fear gnaws at my insides, and I’m on the verge of running. But then her voice comes again, that same urgent undertone. “Don’t stray, no matter what you see. Something’s wrong.”

I twist around, searching for her. But there’s only stardust swirling around me, weaving in and out, thickening like an ocean fog, muffling the world out.

And then, there it is again—that figure. It’s closer now, close enough that I can see the way it stands, the shape of it so much like her, the same steady stance, but… but how can she be both there and… here?

“Miss Captain?” I whisper.

The figure shouts my name, just like she would. My heart hammers against my ribs as I blink, trying to make sense of it, but then the shape wavers, dissolving like smoke in the wind. And then—oh gods—something brushes against my leg.

I let out a shriek that echoes through the silence, slapping a hand over my mouth, cursing myself for sounding like a scared child. But terror still grips me, my pulse thundering so fast I can barely hear my own breath.

Then, finally, I hear her voice again, close, real. “Vini!” She’s there, gripping my leg, covered in dust, her face smudged, hair wild. She’s looking up at me like she’s barely got her bearings.

“Oh gods, Miss Captain!” I yelp, barely managing to keep the wobble out of my voice. “Are you alright?”

She catches her breath, glancing down and brushing off bits of grit, her voice low and rough. “Alright?” Her eyes flash as she stands, hands on her hips. “I tell you to keep your eyes on me, and what do you do? Why the fuck did you run like this?”

“Me?” I stammer, stomach flipping. “Wait, what?”

Her eyes narrow, arms crossing over her chest, and I finally notice the angry red scratches marking her forearms. Oh gods. Did I… did I do that?

“Vinicola,” she snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut through the panic buzzing in my head. “Look at me.” She’s furious. And maybe worried. But all I can focus on is her stare, her words slicing through the haze in my mind as I scramble to pull myself together.

“There was… a figure,” I breathe out, the words tumbling faster than I can catch them. “I saw it. Over there.” I point, hoping she sees it too, that she’ll nod and say ah yes, the mysterious shadow , and everything will be fine.

But she stiffens, her expression hardening instantly. “A figure?”

“Yes!” I nod eagerly. “It was you—or at least it looked like you, just standing there, watching me. And then when I looked again, it started to… dissolve. And then you weren’t there, and I thought—“

Before I can finish, she lunges forward, her hands clamping down on my shoulders, and every thought I had flees. I’m frozen, her grip as solid as iron, her heartbeat thrumming through her fingers. “Vini,” she says, her voice low. “Listen to me. There was no figure. Nowhere. You just… ran. Bolted out of nowhere. Whatever you think you saw? It’s not real. Not here. Not now.”

I blink, trying to make sense of it. “No figure?” I repeat, even though I know what I saw. It was there, moving toward me. I could swear it.

Her fingers tighten just a fraction, her gaze burning into mine. “No,” she says firmly. “It’s just you and me here, V.”

I nod, swallowing against the unease that’s still tangled inside me. I want to believe her—she’s got no reason to lie—but the image lingers, flickering at the edges of my mind. It’s still there, like a ghost in my bones.

But if she’s right… if there really was nothing… then it only means one thing.

My own mind’s turned traitor on me.

“What shall we do, Miss Captain?” I ask. I can see it in her eyes that she knows what I mean.

She glances down, brushes the dust from her hands, and then, without a moment’s pause, rips her sleeve clean off. She doesn’t look at me, just holds the torn fabric out. “Tie your wrist to mine,” she orders, her tone leaving no room for argument.

My eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, you mean… literally tether myself to you?”

“Yes, for the love of the sea! Just do it. Now.”

I take the strip of fabric, hands fumbling a bit as I wrap it around our wrists, knotting it tight. Her skin, dark and warm, presses against mine under the moonlight, and somehow, that tiny point of contact steadies me. My heart, thundering seconds ago, calms just a bit. Strange, that.

“There,” she says, testing the knot with a tug. “Now, no matter what happens, we keep moving. Together.”

“Yes, Miss Captain,” I murmur.

And oh, did I mention that my mother would throw a feast for her? No, no, scratch that—she’s going to throw feasts for a whole week straight. A parade, even! This woman is my divine intervention.

She could leave me here—Gypsy could. She should, probably. I’m scared out of my mind half the time, my muscles are about as useful as wet parchment, and if I’m being truthful, I’d wager I’m the single most annoying soul in our crew. It would be all too easy to let me wander off and call it bad luck.

But Miss Captain ties my hand to hers and walks beside me. Just like that.

We walk, bound together. Each step we take sends little puffs of silver dust into the air and it feels like the more I inhale it, the more insane I go. Gypsy, however, seems to be unaffected.

And then, just ahead, the landscape shifts. Towering shapes rise from the ground—monoliths of some kind, casting long shadows through the dust. They’re not like any stone I’ve ever seen. They’re translucent, with an almost crystalline sheen.

Gypsy halts, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the scene. The monoliths stand in a perfect circle, each one about twice my height.

The two of us stride forward, close enough to put palms on one of them. Gypsy’s fingers drift toward it, tracing its smooth, translucent surface. She leans in, observing it up close and then, she turns toward me.

“Look, Vini. There’s… a slot, right in the middle.”

I step closer, squinting. She’s right—a small, round indentation, perfectly formed inside it. I turn to another one, just to see that this one has it too. My hand drifts to my pocket, where I feel the slight weight of the pebble I’d picked up earlier. Could it…?

Gypsy glances at me, then at my pocket, and I nod, my heart pounding as I fish the stone out.

“Well,” I murmur, swallowing hard. “Destiny’s knocking again.”

She raises an eyebrow at the destiny word again, but there’s an edge of anticipation in her gaze. “Try it.”

I step forward, holding the pebble between my fingers, and with a deep breath, press it into the slot. The fit is perfect. A soft click echoes and moonlight lights up the monolith from the ground up.

As the first monolith lights up, Gypsy and I exchange a look—part excitement, part caution, and a good helping of outright terror. We both know that this kind of magic always comes with a riddle or two.

“Well, gotta keep going now,” she mutters, eyes shifting toward the other monoliths, each with its own little slot, waiting for its piece of the puzzle.

I nod, scooping up another pebble from the ground. The moment I grip it, though, a wave of dizziness rolls through me, and the stars above blur for a heartbeat before snapping back into place.

Just like before.

Gypsy catches the sway in my step. “You alright, Vini?”

“Seems like I know now what made me go crazy like that.”

Her brow furrows. “The pebbles?”

I laugh, though it’s a nervous, hollow sound. “Seems like they don’t like being carried around so much.”

“Well, fuck.”

I shake off the haze and press the pebble into the second monolith, feeling another soft click as it settles. A beam of moonlight shimmers up the length of the stone, joining the first one in the glow. One by one, we repeat the process, each stone bringing on a wave of dizziness. By the time we reach the last one, I’m fighting to keep my balance, but Gypsy’s steady hand on my shoulder pulls me through.

“Let me,” she says. But I refuse. What kind of man would I be to let her go through something so untimely?

I put the final pebble into its place, and the entire circle hums, and a faint vibration pulses beneath our feet. Then, all at once, the monoliths blaze with light, the beams bouncing off their surfaces and dancing over the ground between us.

Gypsy and I look down, eyes wide as the light shifts, and letters begin to appear in the dust.

The moon, the keeper of night’s domain,

Turns vision false and thoughts inane.

Hold what is his, and you’ll soon find,

All sense of place and path unwind.

To leave this isle, recall your way,

The path you took at close of day.

For though the world may circle round,

The way you came is where you’re bound.

I run my tongue over my dry lips, raising an eyebrow. “Ah. That’s… well, exactly the kind of thing I’d like to know before nearly losing my mind in circles on this island. This thing should have been at the beginning! Would’ve saved us the trouble, truly.”

If I’d known that clutching something blessed—or cursed—by the moon would turn my mind into a circus, I’d have kept my distance from that pebble like it was a plague-ridden rat.

I glance sideways at Miss Captain, hoping she might share my exasperation, maybe even meet my gaze with a hint of sympathy. But no—she’s too busy studying something in the dirt, her brow furrowed in that way that makes her forehead wrinkle. Curious, I follow her line of sight and spot a small, glimmering object beside the riddle.

“Is that… a fish scale?” I ask, squinting as it catches a sliver of moonlight. Hints of indigo and midnight blue shimmer along its edges.

Miss Captain crouches, and naturally, I crouch right alongside her, our wrists bound together pulling me down.

“Aye, Vini,” she murmurs, voice barely a whisper, “and it seems we’ll need to carry something of the moon after all… The goddess wanted us to take it. I have no doubts.” She sighs, inspecting the scale. “But as long as we take turns holding it and follow the compass, we’ll be fine. I’m not entirely sure what this riddle about ‘recalling the path you took at close of day’ is on about, but we just need to get back to the skiff. That, we’ll manage.”

With a final glance at the glowing monoliths and the shimmering fish scale in her hand, Gypsy stands, dusting off her knees with one hand. I’m still crouched and lifting my hand, my eyes trained on the letters etched in the dust, trying to commit the riddle to memory.

I already hate where this is going. It makes a bad feeling settle in my gut.

Gypsy’s hand tugs on our tether, and I rise, still a bit dazed. “Back to the skiff, then,” I mutter. She nods, and for a fleeting moment, I almost think I see a hint of relief flicker in her eyes.

It all sounds simple enough—in theory, at least. Though how the two of us are supposed to fare with this creeping madness is anyone’s guess.

“I think I should be the one to hold the scale,” I add, searching her eyes. “I’ve had a taste of the madness already, so maybe I’ll be better equipped to handle it this time. No offense to your fortitude, Miss Captain, but if one of us is going to lose their head on this little adventure… well, I think it ought to be me.”

She gives me a long, assessing look, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You think so, huh?”

“I do.”

After a beat, she holds the scale out to me. “Alright.”

As soon as my fingers close around it, a sharp chill creeps into my hand, icy tendrils coiling up my arm and settling right in my chest. My heart does a little jig, quickening until I can hear each thud echoing in my ears. But, miraculously, my mind stays clear—no spirals of madness, at least not yet.

Miss Captain wastes no time, tugging our tether and turning us back the way we came. I follow, glancing down at the trail of shimmering stardust under our feet, casting silver shadows that twist and sway like whispers of something just out of sight. Every so often, I sneak a look behind us at the towering monoliths, half-expecting to see them lurching closer, but everything seems… still. For now.

Then, maybe halfway back to the skiff, the strangeness really sets in.

“Vinicola,” a voice calls out, soft and echoing, like it’s drifting down from the stars themselves, far above. Up, up, up, like the voice belongs somewhere beyond the heavens.

A shiver skates down my spine, and my steps falter, but I don’t dare look up. Instead, I keep walking, feigning indifference. The voice is definitely not Miss Captain’s. No, this is… someone else entirely.

“Viiini…” it breathes.

I clench my teeth, willing myself not to react. The voice slithers around me, lilting and strange. It’s pulling at something deep in my chest. I can feel it, a kind of longing—like a whisper of familiarity I can’t quite place. I glance sideways at Gypsy, but she’s marching ahead, her focus dead-set on the path back to the skiff.

The voice hums again, softer, wrapping around my thoughts, seeping into my bones. “Vini… come to me…”

I grit my teeth, clutching the scale harder, the chill in my hand creeping through my chest as if the voice itself is winding its way inside me. It’s a pull I can barely resist, a coaxing that feels oddly like a memory—half-remembered, drifting in and out.

My feet ache to turn around, to follow the sound.

But then Gypsy tugs on the tether.

“Let’s keep going,” she mutters. “We’re almost there.”

I nod, swallowing against the chill settling in my chest. I focus on her stride, the crunch of gravel beneath our boots, the rhythmic pulse of my heartbeat. It’s almost going well. I’m almost proud of myself.

Until…

“Vinicola, my son…” the voice says. I swallow hard, the chill in my chest turning into a sharp ache.

It sounds like... my mother.

I freeze, every ounce of resolve dissolving as the words ripple through me. I blink, eyes blurring with a sudden rush of memories. Her voice—soft, melodic, full of love I thought the sea had stolen from me forever. Her warmth. The thick accent from back home in the way she says my name.

It can’t be her. It can’t be her. She’s miles away, a world away. But…

My heart pounds, and I barely register Gypsy’s tug on our tether. She’s saying something, her words muted as if through water. I can’t hear her. I’m back in the fields, sunlight spilling over tall grass, the scent of lavender in the air as my mother hums, her hand in mine. Her laughter, soft and clear, echoes over the rolling hills, and I see her again—her face, the one the sea’s salt and spray had taken from me. Every detail of it returns as vivid as that day, her gaze warm, her smile catching the sunlight.

“Vini!” Miss Captain’s voice slices through the haze.

I jolt, blinking away the memory. Or was it really just a memory? For a while I felt like I was there, back home. I was happy .

“Find your way back to me…”

“I want to,” I whisper, barely hearing myself. “God, I want to so much. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

I want to be happy. I want to see my mother’s face again. I want to take a deep breath and feel like the very air belongs to me. Like it’s not foreign, cold and unforgiving. I want to touch the grass, tall and soft underneath my fingers. There are no terrifying bugs or plants back home, only safety.

“Vinicola! Snap out of it! Just a little more, we’re almost there!”

I don’t know who said that just now. I don’t know anything anymore.

The world around me is slipping, blurring as if I’m drifting between two lives—the one I’m standing between the stars, bound to a hand, and the one back home, safe in fields that smell of sunlight and lavender.

Which one is the real one? Which one can I trust?

I take a shaky breath, spreading my fingers and falling. I’m falling and falling and falling. I’m spinning.

“Come on,” someone mutters, pulling on my wrist. “I don’t care what you think you’re hearing, Vini. You’re not going anywhere but back to the skiff, got it?”

I blink and the stars don’t only merge from the ground up to the shimmering ceiling, they also start coming toward me, sliding in the air until I feel like I can grip them.

Yet, even as I watch them move all around me, something inside me wants to reply to the unknown voice. The first one or the second one, I don’t know.

“Uh-uh,” I manage to say.

“Whatever you think you’re seeing, leave it behind,” one says.

“Leave it all behind…” purrs the other.

The two voices circle in my mind, twisting and weaving through each other until I can’t tell one from the other, can’t even tell which is real and which is not.

“Lift your legs higher. You’re gonna trip.”

“I miss you…”

“Fuck, the skiff is not here.”

“It’s been two long years…”

Something tightens around my wrist. The edges of reality flicker like a candle in the wind.

“I don’t know what to do, goddamn it!”

Whoever you are… don’t worry. I don’t know what to do either.