The crystal’s light sheared through the fog like he knew it would. Still, that eerie purple light would be little comfort to the men and women on the<i>Queen</i>’s deck, and it was even less comforting to him, who could guess at its meaning. But a guess was only a guess, and Agon was no mage.<br/><br/>“Just Elridge and Black, I think,” the first mate was saying. “Elridge’s still up in the crow’s nest, as far as I know, and Black can hardly leave the brig to “Mad Matty”, or whatever other rutting names she’s got. Not a chance I’d take, even<i>with</i>a hunter on board.”<br/><br/>Captain Ingram nodded slowly. “Plenty of hands to row us out of this cursed fog, even without those two. Without a witch-wind, it’s the best we’re going to do.” He looked over, blue eyes narrowing at the strange purple light coming from the head of Agon’s staff. “Of course<i>that</i>, of all things, cuts through the fog.”<br/><br/>“Oh, good. The priest’s brought the hells’ own glow to guide us all to the other side.” Daniel crossed his arms. “Surely that’s better than a witch-wind.”<br/><br/>“This is no hellsglow, Mr. Carraway,” Agon said, and held the staff high.<br/><br/>“Here we go,” Daniel muttered.<br/><br/>“This is a tear of the goddess of magic, the one you call Aura. It was shed when her people reunited with those of Shiri, her lover, after centuries apart. It is said that these tears rained from the sky like stars, but almost all were lost.” Both captain and first mate stared at him blankly. “Yes, we serve the gods even in Thanoth. But that is not what matters.<br/><br/>“Aura’s Tear<i>reads</i>magic. I have seen it glow pink while faeries made love. I have seen it glow blue as the High Priestess healed the sick. I have seen it glow red as magefire burned armies. But never have I seen it glow purple.”<br/><br/>“And what does that mean for my ship, Priest Agon?” Captain Ingram had crossed his arms, but his expression was hard to read.<br/><br/>“It means you had best row while you can, Captain, and hope you make land. This mist will not release the<i>Queen of Mythril</i>now… but some may yet be saved.” Agon gave a low bow and disappeared below deck.<br/><br/>“Pleasant fellow,” Daniel said, but he headed for the oars.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>“I didn’t hear anything,” Anaise said, and that was true, really. But she had<i>felt</i>something that had made her suddenly feel cold. She’d been holding back her ethersense, hoping to stay hidden, but… if the ship really was in danger, could she really afford to just hide and hope it went away? She felt Gwen’s foot gently prod hers under the table. So she’d felt it too, then; there really was something more dangerous than her imagination at work.<br/><br/>She glanced up at Tyora, teal eyes searching the woman’s face for… something. If she found it, she didn’t give any sign. “But we both felt<i>something</i>just now,” she admitted. “We’re going to scry the ship, see if we can find out what’s going on. But… if you could keep quiet about it, I’d appreciate it.”<i>If there’s an Inquisitor on board, I don’t think it’s her. And I need to find out what’s happening to this ship.</i><br/><br/>She placed both her hands onto the table and looked meaningfully at Gwen, who gave a measured nod and linked her hands with Anaise. Gwen closed her eyes first, and Anaise, after a wary look around the room, followed.<br/><br/><i>Light as air, strong as light.</i><br/><br/>Scrying alone was always strange enough - her affinity with air had made it easy to learn. She’d heard sea-witches - themselves masters of wind and water - were strong scryers.  Even with an orb as a focus, it had to be terribly lonely, drifting over the ship like a guardian spirit, unseen. It was odd that the ship’s witch hadn’t warned the captain about the fog.<br/><br/>Scrying seemed different to every mage. When she scryed, details about the world were always hazy, but living things stood out like paintings, glowing with life and colour. She found herself floating above the table in the lounge - naked, as usual - with the world frozen in that dream-like state. It had been hard to accept that anyone without ethersense couldn’t see her at all, and even those that could probably wouldn’t see her as she saw herself. Gwen, beside her, equally naked and shimmering with magic, gestured around the room and took her hand.<br/><br/>Scrying with other people was… strangely intimate, although she hadn’t done it many times. Both scryers influenced the vision. Thankfully, of the people she’d scryed with, Gwen saw things the closest to the way she did - she focused on people and emotion more than thought or magic. She even appeared the same way.<br/><br/>Slowly, Anaise looked around. A room filled with emotion. Fear. Concern. Lust. Joy, too. A shadowed man. A cheerful torch. A dancing flame. A flickering candle, radiating mana. A fiery arrow. Beneath her, Gwen was a reassuring heat to her own cold worry.<br/><br/>Further up, a dark man filled with a storm of knowledge. A pretender, masking his doubts. A man holding on with all he had.<br/><br/>And the fog, everywhere, aglow with a twisted mana she’d never seen before. They pushed up through misty tendrils, but there was nothing in the fog above but an empty lookout.<br/><br/>Below the ship, then. The bizarre fog was thick, hard to move through even when scrying. It was wrong… so wrong.<br/><br/>There was something there beneath the ship, hidden by currents of shadowy power. She could almost see… was it trying to get in? Suddenly, tendrils of that strange mana lashed out and coiled around her. Beside her, she saw Gwen stiffen and start to struggle. Unlike Gwen’s mana, it was dark and alien, and it was… all over her, trying to find a way<i>in</i>. She gripped Gwen’s hand tightly and<i>tugged.</i><br/><br/>She came to with a gasp, her hands still linked with Gwen’s at that warm table in the lounge. Across from her, from what she could see through watery eyes, Gwen was pale and almost crying. She probably didn’t look much better. They couldn’t have been gone for more than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. She looked up weakly at the elf and opened her mouth, and had to try to speak several times before words finally came. “Something’s coming.”<br/><br/>***<br/><br/><i>Drip.</i><br/><br/>“I’m always the last one to know about these brig parties,” Alan said. Godstouched pirates were one thing, but Formicite and hunter killers, well… “Not much fun to be had down here, really.” He’d been about to remind the ant that the brig was strictly invitation-only, but now she seemed harmless enough, and nice to look at, to boot. The hunter, well…<i>she</i>wasn’t about to set the pirates free, not after all the work she’d done to capture them. And<i>he</i>certainly wasn’t about to tell her what she could or couldn’t do. Maybe she’d gloat. That would be amusing, at least.<br/><br/><i>Drip.</i><br/><br/>He walked over to the crude target he’d made on the side of a barrel and plucked out his knives one by one. Slowly, he frowned. When had that sound stopped?<i>Must’ve been the pirate having me on, then.</i>“See? Nothing to worry about. No need to do anything untoward.”<br/><br/><i>Drip.</i><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>