CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND ONE

The ship had been sailing for about two weeks on the open sea. In those few days, Yara had learnt a lot by helping on the ship. Val had moments of clarity and days when he was stuck to the bucket. He had been extremely cranky all through the trip. Today was one of the better days, he stood by the side of the 

The first sign of trouble wasn't the sky—though the darkening clouds should have been a warning—but the way the wind died so suddenly. One moment, the ship glided smoothly across the waves, sails full and taut, the sun just beginning to dip toward the horizon. The next, the wind cut out like a severed rope, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Yara had been tying down a loose coil of rope when she felt it—the drop in pressure, the stillness of the sea. She straightened, heart hammering against her ribs as she scanned the horizon. The air smelled different, thick with something unnatural, tinged with the metallic bite of magic.