Three days to the coast. Two more to find a boat.
The ocean stretched before me, endless and indifferent. Waves crashed against rocky shores. Seabirds wheeled overhead, crying out in voices that sounded almost human.
I stood at the water's edge, staring at the horizon. Somewhere out there, beyond sight, beyond normal travel, lay Oracle's island. Protected by storms Theron himself had created centuries ago.
"I need a boat," I muttered.
The stone pulsed. Warm. Amused.
"You know something I don't?"
It pulsed again. Definitely amused.
I sighed. Started walking along the coast, looking for any village, any fisherman, anyone who might help.
---
The Fishing Village
I found it at sunset.
Small. Humble. A dozen huts clustered around a rocky harbor. Fishing boats pulled onto shore. Nets drying in the fading light. Children playing in the sand.
They saw me coming—a stranger in travel-worn clothes, carrying weapons, moving with the quiet confidence of someone used to danger. Mothers pulled children close. Men reached for tools that could become weapons.
I stopped at the village edge, hands visible, posture non-threatening.
"I'm not here to cause trouble. I need passage to an island."
An old man stepped forward. Gray beard. Wrinkled face. Eyes that had seen too much to be afraid of one stranger.
"What island?"
"I don't know its name. It's protected by storms. Ancient. Sacred, maybe."
The old man's expression shifted. Recognition. Fear.
"You mean the Forbidden Isle." He spat on the ground. "No one goes there. No one who comes back."
"I have to."
"Then you'll die." He turned away. "We won't help you kill yourself."
I watched him walk back to his hut. Watched the other villagers disperse, leaving me alone on the beach.
The stone pulsed. Patient. Waiting.
I sat on the sand and waited for a better opportunity.
---
Night – The Visitor
She came after midnight.
Young. Maybe twenty. Dark hair, dark eyes, skin tanned by sun and wind. She moved like someone who'd spent her life on boats—balanced, confident, comfortable with the sea's constant motion.
"You're the stranger."
I nodded. "I am."
"My grandfather told me about you. The one who wants to go to the Forbidden Isle."
"Your grandfather's the village elder?"
"He's the only one old enough to remember the last person who went." She sat on the sand beside me. "His brother. Seventy years ago. He never came back."
I was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I never knew him." She looked at the stars. "But I've always wondered what was out there. What was worth dying for."
"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. I won't know until I see it."
She studied me in the darkness. "You're not like the others who come through here. Merchants. Soldiers. Travelers looking for easy passage." She tilted her head. "You're... looking for something."
"Someone. A goddess. Oracle."
Her eyes widened. "You believe in the old gods?"
"I've met seven of them in the past few weeks. Yeah, I believe."
She was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "I'll take you."
"Your grandfather—"
"Won't know until we're gone." She stood. "My name's Kira. I have a boat. Small, but sturdy. If your goddess's storms don't kill us, we'll reach the island in two days."
I stood. Extended my hand.
"Ren. And thank you."
She shook—firm grip, calloused palms, sailor's hands.
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me when we're still alive."
---
The Voyage – Day 1
We left before dawn.
Kira's boat was small—maybe twenty feet—but well-maintained. Sails patched but functional. Hull solid. Supplies enough for a week.
She handled the ropes with practiced ease, guiding us through the harbor, past the breakwater, into open ocean.
"Your grandfather's going to be furious."
"He'll get over it. Eventually." She adjusted the sail. "Or he won't. Either way, I'll be dead or a hero. Both work."
I laughed. Actually laughed.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just... you remind me of someone. A friend. She talks the same way."
"Darius? The one your other friends mentioned?"
I blinked. "How do you know about Darius?"
"Villages have rumors. Travelers talk. The hero Ren and his team—everyone knows stories." She grinned. "You're famous, apparently."
"Apparently."
We sailed through morning, through afternoon, through evening. The sea remained calm—almost unnaturally so, given Theron's warnings about storms.
Kira noticed my expression. "Worried?"
"Waiting. The storms are supposed to start soon."
"Then we enjoy the calm while it lasts."
---
Night – First Storm
It hit at midnight.
Wind screaming. Waves towering. Rain so thick I couldn't see Kira three feet away. The boat pitched and rolled, threatening to capsize with every wave.
Kira shouted something—lost to wind. She pointed frantically at the sail.
I moved.
Years of combat training kicked in. Balance. Speed. Decision-making under pressure. I grabbed ropes, pulled, secured, moved to the next. Kira did the same, working beside me like we'd sailed together for years.
The storm raged for hours.
When it finally passed, we collapsed in the bottom of the boat, soaked, exhausted, alive.
Kira laughed—hysterical, relieved, amazed.
"We made it!"
"We made it."
She looked at me. "That wasn't even the worst one, was it?"
"No. Theron said the storms get worse closer to the island."
"Wonderful."
We sailed on.
---
Day 2 – Second Storm
It was worse.
Waves the size of buildings. Wind that tried to tear the boat apart piece by piece. Lightning striking so close I felt the electricity in the air.
Kira fought the rudder, keeping us pointed into waves, preventing capsizing. I worked the sails, adjusting, securing, praying to gods I now knew personally.
At the storm's peak, something happened.
The stone from Mira blazed—hot, urgent, alive. Light exploded from it, surrounding the boat, calming the waves just enough, just for a moment.
Kira stared. "What was that?"
"Goddess. Helping."
"Remind me to thank her."
The storm passed. We sailed on.
---
The Island
It appeared at sunset on the second day.
Small. Rocky. Surrounded by cliffs that rose sheer from the sea. At its peak, something glowed—soft, golden, welcoming.
"The Forbidden Isle," Kira breathed.
"Oracle's home."
We found a cove—barely large enough for the boat—and anchored. Climbed rocks to reach the island's interior.
The path wound upward, ancient stones worn smooth by centuries of feet. No signs of recent passage. No signs of life at all.
Until we reached the summit.
---
The Temple
It wasn't grand.
Small. Humble. A single stone building with a wooden door weathered by age. Flowers grew around it—impossibly, given the rocky soil. Someone tended them. Recently.
Kira hung back. "I'll wait here. This feels... personal."
I nodded. Walked forward.
The door opened before I touched it.
Inside, a woman waited.
Old—ancient—but her eyes held youth. Held knowledge. Held everything.
"Ren." Her voice was warm, familiar, expectant. "I've been expecting you."
"Oracle?"
"That's one name." She smiled. "I have many. Seer. Prophet. Madwoman." She gestured to a seat. "Sit. You have questions. I have answers. And we have just enough time before the next storm."
I sat.
She sat across from me.
"Ask."