Chapter 24

Time, like the ocean currents along the western coast of Faerûn, subtly propelled Serena's ship of destiny in a new direction beneath its seemingly calm surface. Another year had passed since she took over the laundry in the town of Lucatene.

Life in the town of Lucatene was still filled with mine dust and labor, but the small "cleaning and mending" shop had become an indispensable part of the town. Serena not only gained a foothold, but also, with her diligence and Mara's superb skills, accumulated a small amount of capital, but enough to support them to move again.

News from the border town was ultimately isolated, and the Empire's influence, like slowly seeping mercury, meant that no one could guarantee it wouldn't reach the area one day. After careful deliberation and inquiries, they turned their attention to the south, to the city of Losca, located in the central part of the Cador Federation and bordering the inland sea.

There are several reasons for choosing Losca Port: it is far enough away from the Imperial borders; it is a thriving trading port with frequent movement of people, making it easy to hide; and more importantly, it boasts one of the Federation's best libraries and scholar guilds, which is irresistibly attractive to Serena, who is eager to acquire more knowledge and truly understand the world.

After selling off their shops in the town of Lucatene and exchanging all their savings for easily portable federal silver coins of various denominations and some small gold coins, Serena and Mara embarked on their journey once again.

After traveling by ore-carrying trucks and then by inland river barges for nearly a month, they finally arrived at the port of Losca.

A salty sea breeze swept over us, carrying a moist scent quite different from the dry, dusty atmosphere of the town of Lucatene. The city, built against the mountains and beside the sea, boasts white stone buildings that gleam in the sunlight, rising in tiers. A towering lighthouse stands at the end of the harbor, guiding the throngs of sailing and galley vessels. The docks are bustling with activity; the shouts of stevedores, the cries of vendors, and conversations in various languages ​​mingle together, creating a vibrant, boisterous atmosphere.

They rented an apartment with a loft in the "Baiyavilo district," a bit far from the port area but with relatively good security. The room wasn't big, but it was clean and bright, and opening the window revealed winding streets and the azure sea in the distance.

After settling in, survival once again became the primary concern. The cost of living in Porto Losca was far higher than in the town of Lucatene.

Mara's excellent tanning and leather craftsmanship quickly led her to work in a workshop that made waterproof bags and protective gear for sailors and merchants. Her skills were well-paid there.

Serena, however, made a different choice. She noticed that the booming trade of Losca had created a demand for clerks, copyists, and those skilled in basic arithmetic. So, she mustered her courage and went to the public reading room of the Scholars' Guild in the city center, where she found a part-time job organizing files and assisting with book management. The pay wasn't high, but it was stable and provided access to books.

Every day, in the reading room filled with the smell of old paper and ink and a faint musty odor, she carefully brushed the dust off the parchment scrolls, categorized the scattered materials, and provided simple assistance to merchants and scholars who came to consult maps or legal documents. In her spare time, she devoured every book she could get her hands on—geographical magazines of the Faerûn continent, the history of the Cador Federation, copies of nautical logs, and even some basic botany and astronomical atlases.

As she continued to absorb this knowledge, the outline of this world gradually became clearer and more complete in her mind.

In the evenings, she would sit in the attic of her apartment, reviewing what she had learned during the day by the light of an oil lamp, practicing her handwriting to improve its elegance, or helping Mara with simple decorative carvings on leather goods. Her Kador became more fluent and accurate, and she even began to teach herself some scattered vocabulary from other continents commonly used in the port. Occasionally, she would stand by the small window of her apartment, quietly gazing at the star-like lights of the port and the dark horizon in the distance.

The summer sun in Losca Harbor was blazing, illuminating the white stone buildings. Even the sea breeze couldn't dispel the palpable restlessness and tension in the air, a result of the Emperor's first official visit. The main streets were completely cleared, with soldiers in the blue uniforms of the Cador Federation and a small number of disciplined Imperial Guards allowed to accompany them forming a cordon. Beyond the cordon, a surging crowd moved, a mixture of curiosity, awe, and perhaps a barely perceptible hint of resistance.

Serena stood behind a half-open shutter on the second floor of the "Thetis" Chamber of Commerce. This chamber had a cooperative relationship with the Scholars' Guild, and she happened to be there today to deliver a batch of organized shipping documents. The noise of the street below was mostly blocked by the window, leaving only a faint echo.

She didn't want to get close to the noisy center, but work, plus... an indescribable feeling of wanting to confirm something, made her stay behind the window.

A loud horn sounded in the distance, announcing the arrival of the procession. The commotion among the crowd intensified.

First to appear was the Cadorian Federation honor guard, dressed in impeccably blue uniforms, marching in perfect unison. Following them were the carriages of several high-ranking Federation officials. Then came an open-top royal carriage drawn by four magnificent black horses, its design simple yet imposing, devoid of any superfluous embellishments, its entire body painted in the deep purple symbol of the Augustan imperial family. Surrounding the carriage were Imperial Guard knights, riding tall horses with eyes as sharp as eagles.

Lucien sat in the center of the carriage.

He was still dressed in a perfectly tailored dark tuxedo, the only symbol of his imperial power being the ceremonial crown made of dark metal and obsidian that adorned his forehead. Sunlight cast deep shadows on his sharply defined face. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze calmly sweeping over the crowds lining the street. His deep purple eyes held no emotion, neither joy nor arrogance, only a condescending indifference, as if surveying his own territory.

Serena's breath caught in her throat at that moment.

This was the first time she had seen him since she fled the manor and evaded his pursuit. Time had left a deeper mark on him, stripping away the last trace of youthful naiveté, leaving only the cold maturity and absolute authority of an emperor. He was more...dangerous than she remembered.

Seemingly unconsciously, or perhaps with some inexplicable intuition, Lucien's gaze, as it swept over the "Thetis" Chamber of Commerce building, paused for an extremely brief, almost imperceptible moment behind a half-open blind.

The light behind the window was dim, making Serena's figure indistinct. She wore a plain-colored cotton dress, the kind common among young women in Losca, and her hair was wrapped in a dark headscarf. Her face was devoid of any makeup. She was just a blurry, inconspicuous silhouette.

But in that brief, less than a second of eye contact—if it could even be called eye contact—Serena felt her blood freeze. She could almost see through the noise and distance to feel the essence of that gaze again—cold, sharp, with a chilling, all-knowing penetrating power.

Then, his gaze shifted away, as if brushing aside a speck of dust, and he continued his tour of the vassal cities as emperor. The carriage maintained a steady pace, slowly passing beneath the window.

Serena stood frozen in place, her back soaked with cold sweat. She gripped the window frame tightly, her knuckles white. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, almost breaking free.

He didn't recognize her.

Or perhaps he recognized her, but chose to ignore it in such a public setting, in the context of a state visit.

Or perhaps... it really was just a coincidence, an unconscious glance.

She couldn't be sure.

Only when the last part of the parade disappeared around the street corner, the crowd began to disperse, and the noise gradually subsided, did Serena slowly release her grip on the window frame.

She looked down at her fingers, which were trembling slightly from the effort, and at the simple dress that belonged to an ordinary clerk from the port of Losca.

The new life and the gradual peace that had been built up over the years through forbearance, struggle, and hard work were easily shattered in that fleeting glance, revealing the still fragile nature beneath.

Serena took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. The fear was still there. She raised her hand, straightened her slightly disheveled headscarf, tightened it, turned around, picked up the delivery receipt from the table, and calmly walked down the stairs, merging into the gradually dispersing crowd on the street.

The port of Losca was not completely silent despite the daytime hustle and bustle; the taverns in the port area were still bustling with people. However, the streets of the Baiyavilo district had returned to their usual tranquility. In the attic of the apartment, the light from the oil lamp cast Serena's shadow on the wall, which swayed slightly.

An atlas of vegetation along the Federal coastline lay open before her, but her gaze wasn't fixed on the pages. The brief yet breathtaking eye contact during the day was etched into her mind like a brand. Lucien's deep purple, cold, and expressionless eyes kept replaying in her mind.

He took no action. This didn't reassure her; instead, it made her even more uneasy. She understood him, understood the obsession and controlling nature hidden beneath his calm exterior. His indifference was more like a cat-and-mouse game, or... he was waiting for a more opportune moment.

Mara pushed open the door and entered, carrying a faint scent of leather and the sea. She keenly sensed the unusually tense atmosphere in the attic, her gaze falling on Serena's tense profile.

“He saw you,” Mara stated, not in doubt.

Serena nodded slowly, her voice a little hoarse: "During the parade, from the carriage... I'm not sure if he recognized me, but his gaze... lingered for a moment."

Mara silently put down her tool bag, walked to the window, glanced warily at the quiet street outside, and then drew the curtains shut. "Since he didn't react on the spot, it means he had some reservations, or he has other plans." She turned to Serena, "But we can't stay here any longer."

Serena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She understood, of course. Losca Harbor was no longer safe. Lucien's visit was a declaration in itself; the Empire's tentacles had blatantly reached this place. Even if he left this time, the informants and influence he left behind wouldn't easily disappear.

“We need to leave Kador.” Serena opened her eyes, her gaze regaining its composure, even carrying a resolute air of desperation. “We need to leave Faerûn completely.”

Mara frowned slightly: "A long voyage requires a lot of money and reliable ships. Our savings are not enough."

“I know.” Serena stood up, walked to a simple wooden chest, took out a small cloth bag from the bottom, and poured it on the table. Inside were all their savings—some federal silver coins and a few gold coins, gleaming faintly under the oil lamp. “This isn’t enough to bribe a captain to take us on a long voyage, but perhaps… it’s enough for two tickets to the ‘Glass Islands’.”

The Glass Isles, located in the western sea off the coast of Faerûn, are a loose confederation of dozens of islands of varying sizes. They are infamous for their chaotic jurisdiction and their acceptance, or rather, indifference, towards fugitives and adventurers from all over. It is a lawless land and an ideal place to conceal one's whereabouts.

“The Crystal Islands…” Mara pondered, “The environment there is more complex and more dangerous.”

“But the Empire’s influence is weakest there,” Serena interjected. “Moreover, the shipping routes are relatively fixed, with regular merchant ships coming and going. We’ll be less of a target if we blend in with the caravans.” This was information she had noticed while organizing shipping records at the Scholars’ Guild.

Mara looked at Serena, seeing the unwavering determination in her eyes. The trials of the past few years had transformed the girl before her into a fledgling needing constant protection, a companion with her own judgment and decision-making abilities.

“Okay.” Mara nodded readily. “I’ll find out about the latest ships and schedules to the Glass Islands. You get rid of anything that’s inconvenient to carry here, and prepare the necessary identification documents, the one we got in Lucatene.”

Over the next few days, Serena went to work at the Scholars' Guild as usual, but secretly began to organize and destroy any personal notes or traces that might reveal her whereabouts. She used her position to carefully examine the records of merchant ships that had recently sailed to the Glass Isles and the reputations of their captains. Mara, meanwhile, frequented the taverns and warehouses in the port area, using a few silver coins and her keen ears to gather information about ship safety, departure dates, and whether temporary manpower was needed.

They were like two migratory birds quietly packing their bags and preparing to migrate before the hunters approached, each movement slow and cautious, avoiding attracting any attention.

Just three days after Lucien concluded his state visit and left Losca, Mara brought back news: a medium-sized cargo ship named "Song of the Siren" would set sail in five days for Freeport, the main trading port of the Glass Islands. The captain had a decent reputation, was open to accepting paying passengers, and was recruiting temporary sailors to supplement the crew.

“Time is tight, but it’s enough.” Serena counted the funds they could ultimately use, just enough to pay for two lowest-class tickets and a small emergency fund.

On the eve of her departure, Serena stood by the attic window, taking one last look at the night view of Losca Harbor. The star-like lights reflected on the dark sea, a stark contrast to the bustling capital she remembered. This place had once given her knowledge and fleeting peace, but now, she had to set off again.

She didn't linger much, turned around, and blew out the oil lamp.

The attic was plunged into darkness, with only the distant starlight outside the window outlining the shape of her small, packed bag.

The voyage of "The Siren's Song" initially went smoothly. Serena and Mara squeezed into a cramped, damp, lowest-class cabin, enduring the turbulence, the salty air, and the diverse passengers around them—disillusioned merchants, artisans seeking opportunities, and those fleeing debts or the law. They tried to minimize their presence; Serena even used charcoal to slightly deepen the contours of her eyebrows and eyes to make herself appear more ordinary.

However, fate did not grant them a smooth voyage. As they sailed into the "Creder Sea," a region outside the Crystal Islands known for its unpredictable weather and hidden reefs, a violent storm struck the cargo ship without warning.

The sky instantly turned pitch black, and giant waves crashed down like mountains, relentlessly battering the fragile hull. The wood groaned and snapped with a sickening groan. The wind howled, threatening to tear everything apart. Chaos erupted on board; screams, prayers, and the captain's roars were drowned out by the storm's fury.

Serena and Mara clung tightly to anything fixed in the cabin, barely maintaining their balance amidst the violent shaking. Icy seawater was already pouring in through the gaps in the damaged hull.

"Hold on tight!" Mara yelled at Serena amidst the deafening noise, her eyes as sharp as ever, but her taut jawline betrayed her tension.

But disaster struck swiftly. A massive wave crashed against the side of the "Siren's Song" with devastating force! With a deafening roar and countless splinters of wood flying, a huge gash was torn open in the hull!

Seawater surged in frantically, and the ship tilted at an alarming speed. Serena felt an irresistible force tear her away from Mara; the icy, salty seawater instantly engulfed her mouth and nose, and the immense pull dragged her towards the dark abyss…

Consciousness returned amidst violent coughing and biting cold.

Serena found herself lying on a cold, rough beach, soaking wet, every muscle protesting, her lungs burning. She struggled to lift her head, salty seawater flowing from her mouth and nose. The sky was a post-storm gray, the waves still surging, but no longer in their previous destructive form.

She looked around. It was an unfamiliar coastline strewn with black reefs, with dense, unsettling tropical jungle stretching into the distance. The remains of the "Siren's Song" lay scattered along the shore like the skeleton of a colossal beast, a horrifying sight. A few survivors, like her, lay collapsed on the beach, some looking around blankly, others groaning in pain.

“Mara…” she said hoarsely, searching urgently for that familiar figure.

Soon, she saw it. Mara was not far away, struggling to push a wooden crate that had been washed ashore by the waves to a higher position. She was also injured, with a bloody gash on her forehead, and her movements were somewhat unsteady, but she was still alive.

Serena breathed a sigh of relief and struggled to her feet, but felt a wave of dizziness. She forced herself to calm down and observed the survivors. There weren't many, only about seven or eight, including several sailors, a pale-faced merchant, and…

Her gaze was fixed on a figure a few meters away.

It was a young girl, dressed in a decent but tattered travel dress, lying face down on the beach, motionless. Her figure was remarkably similar to mine—the same slender frame, similar height, even the length and color of her hair…

Serena's heart skipped a beat. A bold, even somewhat ruthless, thought flashed through her chaotic mind like lightning.

She moved over with difficulty and reached out to feel the girl's neck.

It was ice-cold. There was no pulse.

The girl is dead. It could have been drowning, it could have been an impact… the cause is no longer important.

Serena's gaze fell on a leather pouch the girl carried, tightly fastened by its strap, thankfully undamaged in the storm. She then looked at the girl's clothes, which, though worn, were made of a material clearly superior to her own.

An opportunity.

An opportunity to completely bury "Serena Wilde".

She knew Lucien would never give up the search. News of the shipwreck would spread sooner or later, and the list of survivors would reach the ears of various factions. If the name "Serena Wilde" appeared on the list of victims…

She took a deep breath, suppressing a slight unease and chill in her heart. Survival outweighed all moral hesitation.

She quickly untied the girl's pouch and fastened it to herself. Then, she laboriously began to remove the girl's outer skirt, simultaneously putting her own simple, sand-stained cotton dress on the girl. This process was not easy; the deceased's body was heavy and stiff, but she completed it through sheer willpower.

She carefully placed all the items on the girl that might identify her—a small silver ring, a handkerchief embroidered with initials—into the pouch. Then, she took off the nightingale badge that she always wore close to her body, hesitated for a moment, and finally carefully placed it into the girl's tightly clenched hand.

After doing all this, she slightly adjusted the girl's body to make her look more like she had died in the disaster.

At that moment, Mara approached. She had seen Serena's movements and the body dressed in Serena's old clothes. A knowing glint flashed in Mara's eyes, but without any doubt or judgment, she simply asked in a low voice, "Are you sure?"

Serena nodded, her face pale but her eyes resolute: "From today onwards, I am 'Liana'." This was the name on an identity document she found in the girl's purse, from a small merchant family in the Kador Federation, seemingly runaway to the Glass Islands in search of opportunities.

Mara nodded. "Liana." She accepted this new identity as readily as she accepted any necessary survival strategy. "We need to gather supplies, figure out where we are, and then figure out how to survive."

Other survivors gradually gathered around, their faces filled with bewilderment and fear at having survived the ordeal. They counted the number of survivors; including Liana and Mara, there were only nine people left.

They stood on an unfamiliar shore, with the ocean behind them that had swallowed dozens of lives, and the unknown and dangerous island jungle before them.

Serena Wilde has been officially declared "dead" due to that storm and shipwreck.