CHAPTER 1

It had been a couple of days since the crew of the Nomad had left the island Scratch had taken residence on, not even a week since Sinbad had seen the devil’s hope of possessing his soul shattered. It had been good days since then: a lot of sun and a friendly breeze, just as if the danger of their last adventure had cleared up, finally showing even in the weather.

They had no particular aim, but since they were slowly running out of food and water, they were headed for Basra. That too was a bit like in the old days, and the captain found himself liking this. No responsibilities for now, just seeing where the wind would take them, and eventually, he was sure, this very wind would bring a new adventure.

It was near noon. Doubar was keeping his shift at the tiller, and Sinbad had retreated to the further part of the vessel, a hand in the nets, a foot slightly propped up on one of the lower bars of the railing, watching the sky. For now at least, he felt at peace, but this wasn’t always so these days. Their last adventure had given him a lot to think about and that he did, whether his crew noticed his thoughtfulness or not. Maybe they didn’t, because he had also become a bit more cheerful in the last few days. A strange mix and whether anyone could tell, the captain did not know.

Bryn, however, noticed the captain standing alone looking out into the distance as if he was in deep thought. She was worried about him. The last few days he had been acting strangely, and she thought she could cheer up the captain. After all, talking about one’s problems usually eased the stress placed on the person. She walked to the captain. "Hey, what's up?"

Sinbad could hear someone walk up to him only when that person was a few steps away. Turning his head, he found it was Bryn, and he smiled slightly, his face not giving away his thoughtful state too much.

"Nothing much," he replied. "Just thinking about how good it feels to be back on the open seas again." This wasn’t even a lie. But not the complete truth, either.

Suspecting Sinbad was hiding something, Bryn said "Liar. I know better than that. So tell me, what's on your mind?"

Sinbad gave a slight chuckle at that, stepping down from the railing but leaving his hand on the ropes. "What makes you think I’m lying?" he asked with a faint trace of near humorous reproach in his voice. Part of him knew that most people should have noticed him being pensive, but he had mostly hidden it, volunteering for shifts at the tiller to have some time to think, nothing too suspicious. And nothing he had not been through before.

Meanwhile, Dermott was flying in circles over the Nomad. Apparently, everything was going on as usual. Crew members were busy looking after their own duties, while Doubar stayed at the tiller and Sinbad and Bryn were chatting in a corner.

Apparently.

The bird perfectly knew that there was something different on the ship now. The black, heavy, thick halo which had been surrounding their captain for over a year had suddenly disappeared. Until a couple of days ago, Dermott perceived a strange force around Sinbad. It was like a starving demon waiting eagerly to devour his light whenever he let his guard down and gave up to rage and violence.

He was aware that Bryn had been a precious support for him in this tough battle. She had always been able to calm, comfort, and bring the sailor back to normal. People who share the same experience usually became close, even for a while, and Dermott suspected that there was a battle against the dark forces in Bryn’s heart, too. For this reason, she had this emphatic ability to understand Sinbad.

Here they go again, thought Dermott observing them from the sky, and was thankful for what Bryn had done for the captain during this past year. He couldn’t have looked into his sister’s eyes again if something bad had happened to him.

Now he felt relieved. He guessed the captain only had to get used to his regained freedom. But, at the same time he was feeling uneasy. He wasn’t sure, but for a moment he had a flash of two icy, malevolent eyes staring at the Nomad. Powerful eyes imbued with magic. But he couldn’t sense anything more. He only needed a few seconds to realize he was having a vision. It had always been like that. Since his childhood he had been able to foresee future events which still had to come, just like his mother did. She had a lot of magic powers. But while his sister inherited them almost as a whole, he got just a small part: telepathy and the ability to see flashes from the future. In the past, this skill often turned out to be useful. He had a vision when he threw the Griffin Egg into Rumina's Lair, and also when the witch kidnapped Sinbad and he was able to locate their position, passing the information to Maeve. However, this power had a flaw. It usually came unwanted, and he couldn't use it according to his free will.

Why am I never able to use this foreseeing power properly? thought the bird-boy miserably. So he kept on flying nervously, hoping to understand the cause of his growing uneasiness.

Bryn looked up at Dermott in the sky, but quickly returned her attention to Sinbad. "Because one, you constantly wander from one place to another as if you are trying to solve something. And two, you have that boyish grin on your face which is typical of a liar. Now as your friend, tell me what is bothering you. Or at least talk to me. You haven't talked much in the past few days."

She pressed her lips together in a firm line and crossed her arms. She stared at Sinbad with her brown eyes, waiting for a response.

Sinbad followed her eyes, his gaze briefly lingering on the hawk circling above him. Did he miss her, too, he wondered? It was very well possible. Dermott had always seemed to be rather smart for a bird. He ended the thought before it settled in his mind, since this would have meant drifting off again, giving the brunette who was intently watching him right now all the more proof for her accusations.

For a moment he was tempted to twist her words once more, just for the fun of it, but then he decided against it. "It’s just that I’ve been thinking about this and that since our last meeting with my good old friend Scratch," he said. Now that again was the truth even though a rather general account thereof. This and that and the things this demon had said about him having become more reckless, the fact that he had begun to realize that change inside him too now, his own self doubts about how he had let himself be changed like this, and Maeve, of course. Even though he now knew it had all been a trap, it felt as if she had just been snatched from him, a moment before he had found her. All this was on his mind, giving him a lot to think about, but he usually wasn’t the type of guy who would let it show. Sinbad was not the kind of man who would spill out his inner thoughts on a whim.

Bryn gave out a deep sigh, "Hmmm. Yes, Scratch was one mean devil. We all would have been dead if it weren't for you. And you deserve all our thanks. But tell me; what is “this and that”?" She was determined to get to the bottom of this. She could not stand one more day watching Sinbad like this. It was driving her crazy.

Indeed, Sinbad thought. They had seen how evil Scratch could be, but they had not gotten all of the conversation he had with the monster. They had not seen what he had been about to become. That had not been him. Or yes, his feet had been set on just that path. Being confronted with your own dark side was not easy.

A faint smirk showed on his face when he glanced at her, tilting his head a little for a moment. "We had a nice little chat, him and I," he said. Irony was something that still was easy. That had never changed. "Let’s just say it wasn’t nice. And that he didn’t play fair." It implied the fact that Scratch had used Maeve... had used something that had looked like Maeve, as a bait. Scratch had known all his weaknesses and played them against him.

Frowning a little but managing a smile, Bryn closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened her eyes, she stared into those sad, sad, sea-blue eyes. Why is he hiding from me? Doesn't he know that I care dearly for him and that his continued sadness only hurts me more? I wish I could do something. Ooow, he can be so stubborn sometimes. It is driving me crazy. I can't stand it anymore. "Sinbad, stop playing games with me!" She was surprised that she virtually shouted at him. This was not like her. She had never raised her voice at Sinbad. She looked down and closed her eyes, hoping, praying that he would not get mad at her.

The captain did not flinch when she suddenly raised her voice, but raised his eyebrow at it slightly. Bryn usually didn’t do that. She was usually calmer than that, someone who did not get agitated so quickly. The fact that she did react like this probably meant she was rather wound up. A few days ago, this might have been the moment when he would have reacted with a stern face that clearly indicated who had a say on this ship. Now he didn’t. Instead, he turned around completely; tearing his eyes from the sky he had been gazing at now and then, leaned his back against the railing and crossed his arms.

"I’m not playing games with you, Bryn," he said. "I never would." Playing games sounded like tricking. It was the sort of thing Scratch would do: playing games, fooling him. And he had run into that trap. She had thanked him for saving them all, but she had not seen what had been going on before that. He would have run to the end of the world head over heels. "I’m just trying to figure out who I am."

Bryn raised her head, opened her eyes, and smiled at Sinbad, glad that he was not mad at her. But she also had a questioning look on her face. Why would he want to know who he is? Does he doubt himself? She looked into his face and noticed something to cause her smile to fade. It was as if he was a lost little boy. This was strange. She had hardly ever seen this boy in Sinbad. The last time she saw it in him was exactly one year ago, when this mysterious woman, the one they called Maeve, left. Bryn thought then it came to her. It was obvious. Bryn could not help forming another smile. "You miss her, don't you?" Bryn said in a cheerful but thoughtful voice.

Sinbad remained silent for a moment. There was, of course, only one answer to that, and he knew it. Probably everyone who knew him did. Of course he did miss her: had missed her every day. He had tried to get along with it, and since he had never been one to openly display what he was feeling he had started to deny it to the outside world. Not with words, but with the way he lived and acted. Trying to dull the pain, he had changed. And now was the point that he had finally realized that this change had not been for the best. Not at all. What would Maeve say if she had seen him like that he wondered? Nothing good that much was for sure. She would have known how to set his head straight again. But it was her leaving that had caused the change so there was not much sense in wondering what she would have done had she been there.

He kept silent for a moment, scowling slightly. "I thought she was there," he said. It was not a direct reply for Bryn’s question, but one could read between the lines clearly enough. "In Scratch’s dungeon." He had believed this naively; even a spark of hope had made him forget about reason. Sure, Dim Dim had let him know she was safe with him, but that had been a year ago. Much could happen in a year.

Bryn listened to him before she replied. "Hmmm, I see. Scratch played on your emotions, didn't he?” She paused for a moment. "Tell me about her."

She had hit a nerve there, and she had formulated her words in a way that gave Sinbad no real opportunity to answer her question without sounding as if he was either trying to justify himself or trying to beat around the bush. He gave her a short half-glare that indicated he was not one to stand here and talk about his “emotions” as Bryn had called it, even though of course this was no reason to yell at her. Instead he gave a dry chuckle.

"Of course he played on my emotions," he said. "I thought he was keeping a member of my crew captive." He shifted a bit, hooking one thumb in his sword belt. "She was... is a sorceress apprentice," he then said. What else? Everything he might possibly say was either an understatement or was bound to sound a lot like self pity and ... too much to be mentioned on a random chat.

Bryn bit her lip and thought about it. She did not want to go too far. But she also believed talking about it would cure some wounds. Looking at him and thinking, she finally smiled and spoke. "You care about her a lot, don’t you? What was she like?" She did not want to sound like she was playing with him, but she was determined to get to the bottom of this. Besides, she, herself, was interested in hearing about this woman which no one seemed to mention.

Sinbad pointedly ignored the first question and looked up to the sails for a moment, thinking how to phrase his words. "She...got us out of quite some tight spots with her magic," he finally said, "Even though she didn’t have full control over it. And she did have quite a temper." Mildly put, he thought, with an inward smirk. Oh yes, he missed bickering with her.

Bryn smiled that she was going somewhere and not aggravating the captain too much. She figured that if anybody could talk to the captain about Maeve, it would be her, because she highly doubted the captain would get mad at her. But, be careful Bryn. Be subtle. Very subtle. After thinking more on what she should say, she spoke, "Temper?"

"Temper, yes." Sinbad replied. "She knows what she wants. And she doesn’t like it when you treat her like a weak woman." That probably was the closest description he could muster to avoid going into details that told about how often she had rendered him speechless in so many ways.

Bryn listened contently on what Sinbad told her. She could not help letting of a little laugh but tried to keep it in. "Something tells me that you two got in a lot of arguments."

Sinbad grinned, partly amused and faintly annoyed. He could tell Bryn was being careful with her questions, but her questions were not too comfortable nonetheless. "What makes you think so?" he asked.

**************

Doubar was standing at the tiller. With his eyes staring aimlessly out to the seas, he enjoyed the quiet peacefulness that a shift could bring. Such a wonderful day, he thought while taking a deep breath of warm summer air. It carried the salty scent of the seas, but somehow he was sure he also could smell the earthy scent of land. They were close to Basra. He knew it.

A squeak from above distracted him in his pleasant thoughts. The brown hawk was circling high above and watched the crew and the ship. For only a while, he followed the bird's fly when finally his eyes spotted the couple standing at the far side of the ship. Obviously Bryn had joined his little brother, and from what it looked like they were lost in a conversation. But it was no normal one, he could tell. He saw it in his brother's face. Even from here he could see the frown that only formed when it came to a certain sorceress that had been lost in the waves one year ago.

**********

Bryn was somewhat surprised by Sinbad's comment, but she knew she should have expected it. Man, why does Sinbad try so hard not to talk about Maeve? Did he care about her so much it hurt to talk about her? Did he love her? Bryn put on a questioning look. "Because you said that she had quite a temper."

Sinbad was about to reply something like, And do I look like someone who’d clash with a temper? but he bit down on that remark. It looked like Bryn had been worried, and even though he did not like sharing feelings he could understand her. He would have done just the same, so how could he blame her? He shook his head then nodded. "Now and then, yes," he said, answering her earlier question.

This answer was totally unexpected for Bryn. "Now and then, yes, what?"

Her confusion showed that he was more alert to what she was asking and what she was playing at than Sinbad would admit. "You asked if we had arguments because of her temper," he reminded her, slightly amused. "Yes we did, now and then." He glanced over to the tiller, somewhat glad that Doubar was out of earshot most likely. His older brother would surely have reacted with laughter at the captain’s understatement he thought; unaware of the fact that Dermott was still circling the skies above the Nomad.

*****************

Dermott tried to forget for a while about the Nomad. He wanted to free his mind and concentrate on what he was feeling. His visions had always been a double-edged sword, and even if sometimes he had been able to uncover parts of their true messages, he usually ended up missing the key to solve their secrets.

It had always been difficult to call at his will those kinds of predictions, which were almost spontaneous. But the growing sense of haste didn’t leave him, so the hawk was pretty much determined to make another effort and to evoke again the scenery he had glimpsed for a brief moment.

*****************

Doubar watched the two standing unmoving at the railing. Although he could guess from Sinbad's face the issue they must have been talking about, he could not tell just what exactly they were discussing. A sudden glance from his brother, mixed with a light smirk that could have easily been missed if one had not looked properly, caught his attention. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the younger one, but obviously Sinbad had not seen it as he simply turned back to the brunette who went on speaking.

******************

Bryn raised her eyebrow. "You argued with her now and then." Bryn tried to hold back her laughter. Boy, I would really like to meet this woman who could argue with Sinbad. "What did you argue about?"

Sinbad let out a laugh. "I don’t know." Really, what actually had they been arguing about? And anyways he had never seen it as arguing, more like... fencing with words.

"Bryn, is that supposed to be a quiz?" he asked, his eyes slightly narrowed at the brunette, but the tone telling that he was not mad at her and more bemused than irritated.

This took Bryn aback, and she jerked her head, startled. "No. This is not a quiz. I am just trying to help you in your mourning by bringing back the good memories of her. And, at the same time, I am learning a little more about her. Now, you said that you don't know what you two were arguing about. What do you mean you don't know? Would you care to elaborate?"

Good memories won’t bring her back, Sinbad thought with a trace of bitterness, and for a moment his facial expression changed ever so slightly into a scowl that was not even directed at Bryn but at his own thoughts. What would it help to dig it all up? he asked himself. Was that even a good thing to do? Wouldn’t it just hurt all the more? For a moment he was just a short way from doing something: snapping at her or just finding an excuse to leave. It was some sort of active way to deal with it and yet hide again. Then he noticed that this was how he had reacted all along. And that had leaded him nowhere good.

He raised a hand to rub the spot above his nose, giving a brief sigh that could as well be interpreted as a reaction to Bryn’s penetrating questions. "I don’t really know," he therefore repeated. "Nothing important. Everyday things." Jealousies, mostly jealousies. Veiled in flirting. "Whenever she felt she had to set my head straight again," which had been a healthy thing. "Or the other way round."

Bryn sensed Sinbad may be getting annoyed with her questions, so she tried to lighten the mood. She did not want to anger him, just have a friendly conversation with him which she hoped would lighten his mood. She was happy it was going somewhere. Sinbad could have always cut the conversation, or worse, get mad at her for bringing it up. This was the most she heard from Sinbad about Maeve in an entire year. "Have hope, Sinbad. Have hope. Refusing to mention her would not help the situation. She did not die. She is just… gone, but she will come back one day," Bryn put a smile on her face. "Now, you said she argued with you about everyday things. Can you recall an example of your arguments?"

***********

Doubar, standing by the tiller, had a stretch, still watching the two, but out of earshot. He let his eyes wander to the bright sun that was so close to reach its zenith and breathed in deeply.

In the next moment he let his word rise above the warm wind that was gently pushing the Nomad forward.

“Kemal,” he called to a younger sailor who was just fidgeting with some ropes. “Come here, boy. It's your shift now.” The young man nodded briefly, shouting some words back, telling the first mate that he would just have to finish his work there first as it had been the captain's order.

Doubar answered with a smile, knowing that the boy was right when first taking care of the ropes, and besides the first mate didn't mind staying at the tiller one or two moments longer.

“As soon as Kemal comes I'm going to see what those two are up to,” Doubar muttered to himself while his attention was being drawn back to his little brother and the sorceress. Although Sinbad was smiling by now, he could clearly see that Sinbad's mood hadn't improved. Instead he could tell that there was now some kind of sorrow, uncertainness, and maybe even a bit anger to be seen in his features.

**********

Sinbad had been in a mostly gloomy mood until some days ago, a mood where he would sometimes even become somewhat aggressive but usually not against his crew. Still, had she nagged him with questions about Maeve just a few days back, this conversation would have already ended. He didn’t like where this was going. He knew Bryn was just trying to bring a bit of light into his gloominess and strange behavior, but he felt trapped. He had not talked about her much in the last year because it hurt. And it still did, these days especially, and talking about her hurt even more. How would Bryn even know what she was saying was true? Well, something told him Maeve was not dead, probably because Dermott would have reacted strangely if something really bad had happened to her, but still. She was gone; she was not where she was supposed to be.

He gave a sigh that sounded partly like he was giving up, partly that he thought this was not going to lead anywhere.

Countless examples came to his mind but most of them involved jealousies, and this was something he was not going to share no matter how many more questions Bryn was going to ask. "Everyday things like when there was trouble and we thought.... I thought…she’d better keep her nose out of it. She would insist on being a member of the crew and coming along." He tossed Bryn a glance. "You’re nosy today, girl." Those last words were somewhat humorous, but his eyes did not convey that message. He just hoped Bryn would get off the topic.

"Nosy? Are you pulling my leg?" Bryn chuckled. Okay, enough playing. So she argued with you because you treated her differently because she was a woman. So that is why women, like me, are respected on the Nomad. Now I would really like to meet this Maeve, Bryn thought then chuckled, "It must have been hard for Maeve to live on a ship full of men who did not know how to treat a woman with respect."

Sinbad opened his mouth and closed it again, crossing his arms in front of his chest once more. No, he thought. His motives to be extra careful around her had nothing to do with the fact that she was a woman. "Who do you take me for?" he asked, giving a laugh but sounding just a tad hurt before he added, his voice softer now. "She’s always been treated with respect here." He would have kicked anyone off his ship who would have treated her in a lousy way. He had been protective. Obviously protective and oh how she had been annoyed by that now and then... as much as he believed she had enjoyed it.

Bryn lowered her smile and looked down. She could sense Sinbad's touch of anger in his voice. She thought for a moment what to say which would not anger the captain. Finally she raised her head and looked at the young captain. "Sorry. I was just thinking about what she would argue to you about." She paused. "Do you have any other memories of her that you don't mind sharing?"

Sinbad belatedly realized that obviously he had sounded as if he saw those arguments as something negative. It was, of course far from that. He reacted like this because Bryn, even though her intentions were no doubt meant well, was rubbing salt into old wounds. He had not talked about Maeve for a year and possibly this was strange for Bryn who had joined them just when they had been looking for her. The crew had always respected this; it was as if no one ever mentioned her because Sinbad never did, just as if they were afraid to do what Bryn was doing right now. He tossed a quick glance over at the tiller. When did his brother’s shift end again?

"Lots of memories," he gave back again his kind of vague answer, his face neither amused nor angry. "I don’t really know what to pick or what you want to hear." He was trying to limit things down. If she was going to play at his feelings for herself, this he was definitely not going to share. He was not the kind of person to openly display such things. And neither was Maeve.

**********

Humming an old sailor's song, Kemal finally arrived at the tiller. "You're finished with the ropes?" Doubar asked with a light voice, knowing already that the young one was reliable and usually did a good job.

The dark haired man nodded smilingly while he moved to take the first mate's place.

"The winds are guiding us well, and the waves are friendly today. You'll have a wonderful shift." With this Doubar patted the sailor's shoulders and handed him over the tiller. After taking one more glance towards his little brother, he strolled off to the far side of the ship to finally join him and the brunette sorceress.

**********

Concentrating and not heeding the talks below, Dermott tried to isolate the urge feeling in his heart. Where did it come from? Certainly not from himself. He briefly looked at the scene below on the deck. An amused Doubar was observing his little brother being questioned by Bryn about some subject which made him look evasive. Then he joined them pretty much intentioned to be included in the conversation. Firouz was lost in testing one of his inventions; Rongar was polishing his knives, when suddenly the whole crew started to sing a funny song which cheered everybody’s mood, but not his own.

There was a joyful atmosphere on the ship, so the strange, awkward warning didn’t come from there. It was like a sort of reaction to something which belonged to a different place, very far away from here. However, what Dermott wished to know the most was if this event was happening right now, had already happened in the past, or if it still was destined to occur.

However, the hawk’s business did not stay unnoticed. While trotting off to where his little brother stood, Doubar once again let his sight be distracted by the little furball that was flying high above their heads. Something about the bird seemed to be different today. The first mate could not tell just what made him think so but somehow his flight wasn't to be compared to his usual ones. He seemed to be distracted somehow, following a route that led him far away from the Nomad only to suddenly turn around and get near the ship again.

"One could think the little one's musing about something," Doubar mumbled but quickly felt a smirk spread on his face as he found this idea to be kind of funny: a thinking hawk, just like he was human. But then again, he heard himself think, he was the Lass' hawk, a sorceress' guardian, and you never know just what magic they might have inherited from them. This thought however quickly vanished as Doubar finally arrived at where the two he aimed for stood.

Seeing the tense look on Sinbad's face the first mate decided to best pretend he did not know just what they must have been talking about. Putting on a broad smile he went closer to the two, nudging his little brother and greeting him with a cheerful, "Wonderful day to pay a visit to Basra, isn't it?"

Sinbad was grateful for Doubar to arrive; not because of Bryn, but because of the subject she had started and because he had started to feel rather uneasy. Possibly, it had been obvious, but he said nothing about it. Instead, his facial expression visibly relaxed when his older brother joined them. "Indeed," he said, smiling broadly. "A nice wind and almost no clouds, just as it should be."

Bryn looked at Doubar. "Oh, hi, Doubar." She then glanced at Sinbad. "I will leave you two alone." But before she left, she placed her hand on Sinbad's shoulder and looked him in the eye. She knew he was not feeling comfortable, but he just wouldn’t budge. She felt sorry for him. She knew Maeve would come back. Dim Dim would not lie. She gently patted Sinbad on the shoulder before she turned to leave. Her smile was gone, but she was not frowning. She was disappointed. And if Sinbad, or anybody, looked in her eyes, they would know.

Their eyes met for a second, then Bryn turned to leave and immediately Sinbad felt guilty. He knew his friend had just meant well, and he appreciated she worried for him, because this was what friendships were about, but there seemed to be some sort of barrier he could not or was unwilling to overcome at the point. If he went into more detail about Maeve it would mean he had to talk about how he truly felt for her, and he knew this would hurt. It wouldn’t make things better and would just leave a bitter taste. He frowned slightly, but not in irritation, rather involuntarily showing through this slight change of expression that Bryn was probably just giving up at the point, and this made him feel worse.

Dermott tried to listen more carefully while he let the upward currents take care of him. Up, Down, North, South, East, West. Where did you come from? he kept on asking to the strange thing while he didn’t stop to fly round and round. Then, turning to south-east he felt it again. This same shady, evil intent, determined and sharp like a sword blade. And he saw those cruel eyes again, so familiar he could swear he knew them. But they faded away in a heartbeat to leave place to a new, unknown scenery. So, while his body was still wandering above the ship, Dermott’s mind was kidnapped by his own vision, as it always happened whenever he let himself up to his gift.

There was a bay, on a creepy volcanic island, with high cliffs surmounted by a luxurious palace. Dermott stood in amazement for a second. How could a human being be able to construct anything at such a height? Then the answer came naturally like an obvious realization: magic. No, black magic. It was a dark place full of wandering people, excited, engaged in their willing to harm and bring destruction. Dermott had been able to feel their intentions. That’s where his anxiety came from.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t manage to see clearly the inhabitants; they looked just like shadows to him, as if the dark island was protected and unapproachable. And the more he tried to come near, the more it faded away, disappearing from his sight.

Dermott didn’t know that his uneasiness had a reason, because there was indeed someone else watching the scene.

***********

At another place, far from where the Nomad was peacefully rocking on the waves, the sun was shining upon the white marble of the palace built at the base of a volcano, a soft breeze ruffling the trees of the luscious garden around it, offering a stunning contrast with the rocky white cliffs of the bay under the palace, the black of the flags and sails of the ship anchored in it, and the glistening blue of the sea.

Rumina stood on the balcony of the palace, leaning heavily on a set of cushions arranged under a white gazebo to shield the pale witch from the hotness of the sun. She was still looking unusually weak and worn-out, wearing a yellow dress that left her shoulders and belly exposed, toying gingerly with the red pendant at her neck. Her eyes were set on the pool in front of her, reflecting the image of a well-known ship in the middle of the sea.

“Here we are peasants. Do you think they missed us, Cicero?” she purred, smiling to the black cat draped beside her, who stretched lazily, throwing a glance to the Nomad reflection too.

“Of course they missed us. That's why we had to escape Father, while Scratch was somewhere wreaking havoc. It is our time to go back on game,” the witch went on, scratching the cat behind his ears with her right hand while she passed the left one upon the bowl in front of her, keeping her eyes on it.