The ship bearing them north was making a smooth, five-hour crossing. Within the first hour, the jagged nightmares of the ridge zone faded into the mist, entirely swallowed by an ocean that was flat, grey, and profoundly indifferent to the blood they had spilled over the last five days.
Below deck, Dav Irrel was already dead to the world, having slipped into a tactical sleep before the coastline had even vanished. Up on the freezing upper deck, Cael sat cross-legged with her command band glowing against her face. She was already aggressively drafting the Academic Archive report on the deep magical currents. When she had mentioned publishing the layered interference data back at the assessment signal, it hadn't been a casual observation. It was an operational imperative, and her mind was already tearing the data apart.
Valerica stood alone at the forward rail.
