The sun of Avalon rose timidly, filtered by a bluish mist that seemed to rise from the sea itself. The ship's sails hung limp, and the sound of the waves was the only sign of life around. Aurora took a deep breath. The air still tasted of salt and magic.

Muriel stood beside the heiress of the Nautas, her cloak damp with the early morning dew.

“We appreciate your hospitality, Mirian,” she said, her voice formal and sharp. “And the alliance. May the sea and fire fight side by ...