When we returned home, the warm glow of lantern light spilled through the windows, and the scent of rich spices and roasted fish greeted us before we even stepped inside. Mother had clearly spent hours preparing the meal, and the table was filled with dishes that were far more elaborate than our usual dinners. There was glazed reef fish brushed with herb oil, thick shellfruit stew simmered to perfection, fresh bread still warm from the oven, and at the center of it all sat a carefully crafted cake layered with cream and topped with preserved island berries.
It was not extravagant, but it was made with care.
We ate together, just the four of us—Mother, Lio, Bren, and me—and for a while, the world beyond our island felt distant and irrelevant. Bren exaggerated stories from our fishing trip until Lio nearly choked laughing, and Mother listened with that quiet smile she always wore when she was content. I made sure to savor everything, not just the food, but the warmth of the room and the sound of their voices, because some part of me understood that moments like this would not remain unchanged forever.
When the plates had been cleared and the cake had been cut, Mother leaned back slightly and folded her hands, her gaze resting on me with gentle expectation.
"So," she said, her voice calm and affectionate, "what does the birthday boy want as a gift?"
I did not hesitate.
"I want to set sail."
The words seemed to settle heavily over the table, and I immediately added before she could respond, "Only to nearby islands. Four or five days at most. A week if necessary."
Mother's expression did not harden, but it shifted into something thoughtful and guarded. She understood what the sea meant, perhaps more than anyone else on the island, but she also understood what it could take away.
"Kael," she said carefully, "setting sail is not something you do lightly, especially not alone. You do not have a crew, and you certainly do not have a ship. If you are so eager, then wait until your father returns and I will have him take you on a short expedition."
I met her eyes steadily and forced myself to remain calm.
"Mum, Dad has been gone for two years now, and I am fourteen. If he were here, I could already apply for a position in the crew." I gestured toward Bren, who immediately straightened with a self-satisfied expression. "And I would not be alone. I have Bren, who is more than capable of serving as navigator."
Bren's grin widened at that, and he attempted to look dignified despite clearly enjoying the praise.
"As for a ship," I continued, "Old Faresh must have one he can modify for short-range travel. He handles maintenance for the Mariner's Oath, so preparing something suitable for nearby waters would not be beyond him."
Mother inhaled slowly, considering every angle of what I had said.
"You cannot sail with just two people," she replied.
"I am here too," Lio interrupted instantly, leaning forward in protest. "Why didn't you say my name? If you are going, then I am going as well."
"No, you are not," Mother and I answered at the same time.
Lio looked as though we had personally betrayed him, and Bren struggled not to laugh.
I leaned forward slightly and spoke more carefully, making sure my reasoning was measured rather than impulsive.
"There are still several youngsters on the island who have not yet left for their first voyage and are eager for the opportunity. If we gather a small group and sail within safe waters, it would give them experience and improve their chances of being selected for established crews later. We would not venture beyond the usual trading routes."
Mother studied me in silence, and I could see the conflict in her eyes. She had once stood where I was now, looking toward the horizon with restless ambition, and she knew better than anyone how difficult it was to suppress that urge. However, she was also painfully aware of the risks, and the absence of my father weighed on her more than she ever admitted.
I could see it clearly in her expression that she was close to yielding, that thin line between refusal and reluctant acceptance already beginning to blur. If I pushed just a little further, if I gave her something undeniable, something that proved I was not chasing the sea recklessly but preparing for it deliberately, she would have no choice but to reconsider.
So I decided to drive in the final nail.
Without another word, I reached into my belt and pulled out the spatial pouch.
Bren immediately straightened in his seat, recognizing that this was not some ordinary trinket. Lio leaned forward curiously, and Mother's gaze sharpened, instinctively aware that something significant was about to unfold.
I loosened the string and turned the pouch upside down over the dining table.
Coins cascaded out in a metallic wave, clattering loudly against the wood, spilling over one another in a shimmering bronze heap. The pile spread quickly, catching the lantern light as it formed a small mound at the center of the table. A few gems slipped out as well, rolling between the coins and settling into the gaps like stars scattered among earth.
The silence that followed was thick and stunned.
The expressions on their faces were worth more than the treasure itself.
Bren's smug confidence evaporated instantly.Lio's mouth fell open.Mother did not blink.
"Wha… what is this, Kael?" she asked slowly, her voice no longer soft but steady and sharp. "Where did you find this?"
"I found Grandpa's lost treasure," I replied calmly. "The one he used to tell us about."
The air in the room seemed to shift.
"How?" she asked, the word barely leaving her lips as if her mind had not yet caught up with her eyes.
"I went to the eastern back cliff, to the place he said the currents were strongest during the storm. I… went for a swim there and found an underwater cave. The chest had been carried inside and left there."
Lio turned toward me immediately.
"So that's why you almost drowned."
"I did not drown," I said flatly.
"That's why I said almost," Lio shot back without hesitation.
"Boys. Boys, stop," Mother interrupted, pressing her fingers to her temple as she exhaled slowly.
She looked at me again, but this time it was not with conflict or hesitation. It was with assessment. Careful. Calculating. Measuring not just the coins, but the decision-making behind them.
"You dove from the eastern cliff," she said, not as a question but as a confirmation.
"Yes."
"You located the chest based on your grandfather's account."
"Yes."
"And you retrieved it alone."
"Yes."
Her gaze moved briefly to the spatial pouch and then back to me.
"You are aware that if the currents had shifted or if a beast had wandered into the illusion perimeter, you would not have returned."
"I am," I answered honestly.
The room fell quiet again, but this silence felt different from before. It was no longer about whether I wanted to sail. It was about whether she could deny that I was already moving toward the sea, with or without formal permission.
Finally, she leaned back slightly in her chair.
"You have already made up your mind," she said quietly.
It was not a question.
I did not deny it.
The silence stretched for several seconds before she finally exhaled.
"You will speak to Faresh first," she said at last. "If he is willing to even consider preparing a vessel, then we will discuss the matter further. You will not sail beyond nearby islands, and you will not take unnecessary risks."
Relief settled through me, not because I had won the argument, but because she had not refused outright.
It was not permission.
But it was a beginning.
And beginnings were all I needed