Soliz had felt a horrid weight in his chest every day since the attack. The only thing keeping him sane on the endless sea was the abundant wine they had been allowed to drink. It was a form of recompense the captain of La Esmeralda had decided upon after the terrible mood that had overtaken the crew.

  The sailors looked as though the ocean had already swallowed them. Hollow-eyed men drifted across the deck like ghosts. The crying at night only deepened the gloom until the captain could bear it no longer. She had stormed onto the deck and shouted at everyone with shadows hiding in their eyes.

  No one was allowed to be alone after that.

  At least not until they collapsed from the wine.

  The alcohol, Soliz had overheard from some of the remaining soldiers, had originally been meant for some important noble waiting in the colonies. That was where they were headed—assuming the sea didn’t claim them first, or some angered god dragged them under.

  Soliz pulled out a roll of tobacco and inhaled deeply before lighting it. The faint scent of rum infused in the leaves eased his frayed nerves. His hand trembled slightly as he brought the cigar to his lips, a lingering symptom of the terror he had endured.

  The near-death experience had left its mark.

  So had the humiliation of being discovered later by the other sailors—half-starved and shaking behind a stack of barrels. Having made a mess of himself.

  The ship had been allowed time to recover within what remained of the armada. Though none of the vessels had been destroyed during the attack, nearly half the crews had been slaughtered by the drowned gods. Many of the divine beings escorting the fleet had fallen as well.

  From what Soliz had overheard during one of the captain’s heated arguments with another commander over the voice-transmission relic, the god assigned to their fleet possessed only a single phantasmal body.

  Without the god, their followers would suffer.

  Perhaps the religion itself would collapse entirely.

  Soliz drew on the cigar again, holding the smoke in his mouth for a moment before exhaling slowly. The taste of tobacco and rum lingered pleasantly, pushing back the creeping dread that the endless, crystal-clear waters stirred within him.

  Other sailors did the same.

  They watched the beautiful ocean and the coral islands that drifted past from time to time. Once, those sights had filled them with excitement and wonder.

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  Now they brought no joy.

  Most common folk understood at least a little about the gods. They knew why wars were fought and why divine beings were imprisoned within the colossal structures that dotted the world. At least the ones who listened to such stories—or lived long enough to witness the truth.

  Soliz had heard the ghost stories about the other godly prisons.

  Living through one, however, was something else entirely.

  Experiencing it left a man feeling small.

  Insignificant.

  Like a fish trapped inside a barrel.

  The thought of fish reminded him of the smell.

  Even after the sailors had scrubbed the deck until the wood nearly splintered—forcing the enchanted planks to regenerate—the stench still lingered. Rot, brine, and something fouler beneath it.

  Soliz felt bitterness rise in his throat.

  Nothing had worked.

  They had shat, pissed, and vomited across the deck after drinking themselves senseless on the captain’s orders. It had been another desperate attempt to raise morale—if only by keeping everyone too busy or too drunk to dwell on the horror.

  Soliz had tried.

  They all had.

  Yet the smell remained.

  Thankfully, the wine had not run out, even after the voyage had been extended by several weeks.

  Weeks that weighed heavily upon them as the food rations slowly began to dwindle.

  And that was after half the crew had already been claimed by the sea.

  -

  Mariana watched the heavily damaged ship reach the dock in the first light of morning. From a distance it almost looked like a ghost ship, its hull scarred and sails torn. Only the crew’s cries shattered that illusion. The sailors shouted in joy as the vessel was secured, cheering as if they had just escaped from hell itself.

  Ramón had already gone ahead to learn what had caused their delay and the terrible state of the ship. Soon after, he began helping the exhausted crew offload barrels and assist the wounded down the gangplank.

  Mariana stepped forward the moment she saw the condition some of them were in.

  Her relics made quick work of their injuries. Deep gashes closed, broken skin mended, and swelling faded until only faint scars remained behind. Her aura flowed gently over the sailors as the healing took place, easing their pain and calming their racing hearts.

  Mariana possessed a tender way of caring for others that made people relax without realizing it.

  It was one of the many things Ramón loved about her.

  He stood nearby, smiling as he worked to raise the men's spirits. When he noticed the dark shadows lingering in their eyes, he let his passion surge outward. Courage spread like fire through dry brush, igniting the exhausted sailors’ determination.

  Their renewed energy allowed them to unload a great deal of cargo before the day was over.

  The ship’s captain offered Ramón a respectful nod for his efforts, clearly impressed by the saint of courage. He also expressed his gratitude to Mariana, thanking the saintess for tending to his battered crew.

  Many of the sailors were still deeply traumatized, however. Most refused to speak about whatever horrors they had witnessed at sea.

  Only the captain seemed capable of holding down the terror clawing at his mind.

  With a bottle of rum clutched tightly in his hand, he finally began to explain what had happened.

  The story left Mariana and Ramón stunned.

  That shock faded quickly.

  They had already suspected something like this might occur. The stories they had gathered and the warnings they had divined pointed toward the same grim possibility.

  Both of them quietly realized how fortunate it had been that their gods had not accompanied the armada.

  Even so, a faint sense of guilt lingered in their hearts.

  Because what was coming next would require every bit of strength they possessed.