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The Isle of Gods.

Heaven.

A glorious isle covered in waterfalls and greenery, built from nature itself. And it had been left to rot while its gods were suffering endlessly for my vicious little wife.

The Hells’ ship tailed us closely through the calm waters with the other gods on board, and Cerilla stowing herself away from the consequences of her choices. Its pale hull cut through the sea like a blade through glass while mist curled over the water in ghostly tendrils, climbing the sides of the ship as if it wanted to pull it to the depths.

The mist had rolled in sometime during the night, thick enough to swallow everything beyond a few hundred feet. Ash drifted lazily through the white, appearing from nowhere before settling over the deck in delicate flecks, while the air had grown cold enough that every breath bloomed like smoke before my face.

We weren't merely sailing cursed seas anymore. We were sailing through the end of the fucking world, and the three days it would take us to reach Elysium might be all the time it needed to finish rotting around us.

Assuming the Commander survived that long. If the stubborn bastard hadn’t drunk directly from Lyra, he probably would have died under the red moon.

Then the end of the world would become the least of our concerns because Lyra would drown whatever remained of it in her grief.

Solas and Aldric took turns on the deck, rotating like a clock that refused to be out of tune by one beat.

The Mortal boy’s eyes continued to cut to me with open curiosity as he checked the same starboard line for the third fucking time in the last quarter hour, despite its tension being perfectly fucking adequate.

Apparently, subtlety wasn't among the prince's few talents.

I gave him a sadistic smirk, letting him see the mask of the god he thought I was, and he quickly averted his gaze, stumbling over a stray rope.

The mask of the god who broke the world.

A burden I would carry happily for my wife, who had apparently finally fallen asleep below deck, judging by the sleepy warmth bleeding through our bond. The relentless pleasure had finally gone quiet, replaced by a deep contentment that told me she was safe, warm, and undoubtedly curled around the Commander.

Lucky bastard.

Eventually the moon disappeared below the horizon, though to my disgust, the sun never rose. It was trapped behind thick oppressive clouds that didn’t belong here.

There was no wind. No waves. Even the sails seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

Only the quiet creak of timber and the soft slice of the hull dared to disturb the eerie silence that made a shiver creep along my spine.

Or that could have something to do with the thin layer of frost that kept reforming over my skin that I had to keep melting off with my flames.

My eyelids had grown heavy. Even gods needed sleep, and I was fucking tired, yet I gripped the wheel all the same.

Something slammed down on the barrel next to me and I jumped, eyes springing open to see the Commander letting go of a steaming mug.

“It is past sunrise.” I stared at the mug with a raised eyebrow before pulling my gaze back to the horizon. “Need your beauty sleep?”

“Something like that,” Rythos said slowly, as if every civil word to me was painful for him to tolerate. But I recognised the dark look that crossed over his face. “Are we continuing north?” he asked to break the uncomfortable beat of silence that followed.

“For now,” I said warily. It still didn't feel natural sharing the location of Elysium, even with someone whose heart was visibly rotting inside his chest. Though the black veins looked no worse than they had last night. Lyra's blood must have halted the decay for now, which probably explained the guilt lingering beneath the Commander's expression.

Rythos tilted his chin, gesturing for me to move aside.

Without a word, he bent and retrieved a short length of timber from beside the railing, wedging it between the spokes of the wheel until it locked firmly into place.

I stared at the piece of wood, holding the fucking wheel steadier than my hands ever could.

“I stood out here all night when I could have done that?”

“Busy work,” he grunted. “Needed to keep you out of the way.”

There was a beat of silence before an incredulous laugh burst from me. “Well played.”