Morning came gray and cold but not the couple of darkeness; their love was warm and soothing.
The ocean's mist curled over the damp sand like ghostly fingers.
Alaric and Salviana returned to the group hand in hand, their clothes no longer clinging to them from yesterday's swim and the chilly night.
The others were gathered by a small fire Jean had somehow managed to coax back to life, their faces drawn and tired.
There were nine of them now, Alaric, Salviana, Lucius, Jean, Jess, and the four rescued ones: Emma, Sarah, Samion, and Jaefel.
Everyone looked at one another in tense silence, the unspoken questions heavy in the air.
Finally, Alaric crossed his arms and demanded, "Start talking."
Samion and Jaefel exchanged a grim glance.
It was Samion who spoke first, his voice rough and hoarse.
"We ran," he said. "From the castle."
Alaric's jaw tensed.
"You ran?" he said dangerously.
"You abandoned your post?"
Samion winced but pressed on.
