The sun rose over the eastern horizon, painting the ocean in crimson and gold. Elion stood at the bow of the Shadowhaven, watching the light chase away darkness while behind him, the coast of the Empire vanished into morning mist.
He hadn't slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Governor Aldric's furious face, heard the shouts of Imperial soldiers. Two hundred and forty-seven people had trusted him enough to abandon everything and sail into the unknown.
"You're brooding again."
Elion turned to find Mira approaching with two steaming cups. "Tea? Not great, but better than nothing."
Elion accepted gratefully. The tea was bitter and weak, but hot. "I'm not brooding. I'm contemplating."
"You're brooding." Mira leaned against the rail. "I've known you since you were ten. I know your contemplation face from your brooding face."
"And what's the difference?"
"Contemplation involves occasional blinking."
He laughed despite himself. Behind them, the ship was waking—footsteps on deck, voices calling greetings, the creak of rigging as sailors adjusted sails.
"How are people handling it?" Elion asked.
Mira's expression grew serious. "Mixed. About a third are excited. Another third are terrified but hopeful. The last third are wondering if they made a terrible mistake."
"Which third are you?"
"I'm the person making sure all three thirds don't kill each other." She smiled wryly. "Someone has to organize this floating disaster."
"It's not a disaster."
"Not yet." Mira gestured at the ship. "We have vessels designed for thirty passengers each, loaded with over eighty people per ship. Our supplies will last three weeks if we're careful. We're sailing into unmapped waters, searching for islands that might not exist."
"When you put it that way—"
"It sounds insane. Because it is." Mira's tone softened. "But it's our insanity. At least we have shadow soldiers who don't need to eat or sleep."
By midday, the three ships had drawn close together. Elion stood on the quarterdeck, looking at two hundred and forty-seven faces.
"My friends," he began. "Three days ago, we made a choice. We chose freedom over submission, hope over despair. Some of you are wondering if we made the right choice."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"I can't promise you we did. I can't promise this journey will be easy. What I can promise is this: we face whatever comes together. No one will be abandoned. The strong will protect the weak, and every person here has value and a voice."
He gestured at the shadow soldiers. "Some of you fear them. Some fear me. That's natural. But the shadows exist to protect, not threaten. They serve our collective survival."
Elion's voice grew stronger. "Baron Crestfall died when we left Silverwood. What stands before you now is just Elion—someone trying to build something better."
Silence, then someone started clapping. Others joined in, applause echoing across all three ships. Not everyone was convinced, but it was a start.
That afternoon, Elion tested something new. He called four shadow scouts to the stern. "Can you swim?"
"We do not breathe, Master," one responded. "Water is no impediment."
"Then dive. Scout beneath the ship. Find schools of fish and report back."
The shadows dove without hesitation, merging with water. Gasps came from watching refugees.
Ten minutes passed, then the water darkened as shadows rose.
"Large school of fish, thirty feet below," the lead shadow reported. "Also spotted larger predator, approximately twenty feet long. Not immediately aggressive, but aware of our presence."
"Continue monitoring. Don't engage unless it attacks."
"With scouts like that, we'll never be surprised," Captain Theron said. "Your shadows might just keep us alive."
That evening, Elion held his first council meeting. His inner circle gathered in the captain's cabin—Mira, Garrick, Kael, Lyssa, Helena, and Theron.
"Food is manageable for now," Mira began. "Fishing helps. We have enough grain for three weeks at minimum rations. Water is more concerning."
"I can help," Lyssa said. "There's a ritual that can purify seawater. I can do it every three days. That would extend our supplies significantly."
"What about health?" Elion asked.
"Seasickness is fading," Helena reported. "Three fever cases I'm monitoring. Cramped conditions are breeding disease. We need hygiene protocols."
"I'll handle that," Garrick said. "Daily inspections, mandatory washing. People won't like it, but they'll follow orders."
"Make sure they understand it's for everyone's safety," Elion cautioned. "We're building a community, not running a prison."
"What about defense?" Kael asked. "Pirates, sea monsters—any could hit us."
"The shadow army provides primary defense. But we need to train people. Can you organize combat drills?"
"I'll work something out."
"There's another concern," Theron said. "That predator your shadows spotted? It's been following us. Staying at distance, but definitely tracking."
"Hunting us?"
"Maybe. Or just curious." Theron pulled out a chart. "We're entering waters where monster encounters become more common. The Empire patrols their waters. But out here? This is the wild ocean."
They spent another hour discussing logistics. By the time the meeting ended, Elion felt marginally more confident.
As the others left, Mira lingered. "How are you really doing?"
Elion was quiet. "Terrified," he admitted. "Every decision could get people killed. I keep thinking about my father, wondering if I'm repeating his failures."
"You're not," Mira said firmly. "Your father made poor choices and gave up. You're facing impossible odds and still fighting. That's real leadership."
"I don't feel like a leader."
"No one ever does. But you're doing it anyway. That's what matters."
Somewhere in the deep, the predator followed, patient and hungry. And somewhere beyond the horizon, their future waited.