Chapter 1
The waves smashed against the harbor, the raging sea filling watchers with a sense of both foreboding and awe.
Despite years of traveling, Selissa had never been to the ocean. Now she stood on the edge of Keth Ashera’s harbor, watching the storm brewing in the distance while sailors and merchants rushed around her to prepare for its arrival.
But despite its frightening power, Selissa was not afraid.
Out of all the powerful entities she had encountered, the sea was maybe the only one that didn’t have a personal vendetta against her. Feryll and Rowan had already hid away in the nearest tavern with Teague, deciding to wait out the storm safely inside, but Selissa could not resist staying out to admire the wild beauty of the waters that stretched far beyond the horizon. The sailors were watching her like she was mad. They probably weren’t far off.
Two weeks had passed since Feryll asked her to join him on his expedition to the Brykan Isles, and after months of staying in Var’nori the promise of adventure had made those last couple of weeks nearly unbearable to her. Seymour had not understood her excitement about going to a place rumored to be plagued by curses—and worse, slave traders—but he hadn’t spent countless days cooped up in a place he hated. Even if their ship were to get attacked out at sea, she would gladly fight a dozen pirates if it meant she never again had to sit through another meeting with Archmage Barin.
In the end, despite both his own reservations and Selissa’s numerous protests, Seymour had decided to join her. He told her his services as a healer were needed anywhere. But Selissa knew he was only going because of her, and it made her uneasy. Their relationship was still tentative at best, with both of them knowing she might change her mind and bolt at any moment. Years of not letting anyone get too close had left her with a habit that was hard to break and Selissa didn’t want the Nephilim to follow her to the other side of the world if she was only going to break his heart in the end.
Upon learning that the storm would delay their departure, Seymour had gone into the city in search of a hospital or infirmary where he could help out, and after the Nephilim left, even Feryll had made jokes about him working a little too hard to live up to his angelic father. Selissa had often found herself mildly exasperated by her lover’s self-sacrificing attitude and made similar jokes, but she had still punched the magister on pure principle.
So now she was on her own at the harbor after Feryll had made her promise not to cause too much trouble, just in case she got arrested. Making her best effort to keep her word, Selissa had left her sword back at the tavern and resisted the temptation to frighten the sailors who gave her a wide berth once they noticed her discolored eyes. Her month-long stay in Var’nori had almost made her forget how nervous she made ordinary people, but she found it didn’t bother her as much as it did when she was younger. Not only did others’ opinion of her mean very little to her these days, but she felt she had earned the unease she caused. She might not be a demon in disguise, but she was starting to think of herself as a bad omen.
But she wasn’t going to claim responsibility when she heard angry yelling coming from a nearby docked ship. She had arrived with Feryll and the others just that morning and she had been doing nothing apart from standing around ever since, so whatever was going on couldn’t possibly be her fault.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Don’t get into trouble, Feryll’s voice sounded in her mind, but Selissa was very good at ignoring voices in her head. She approached the ship nonchalantly, leaning casually against a pile of crates once she got close enough to hear what the dockworkers were shouting.
“I told you to get back on the ship,” a big man yelled at the sailors trying to leave the docked vessel. He was roughly the shape and size of two stacked water barrels, and while he was clearly angry, Selissa noticed a hint of panic in his voice.
“We need to get our navigator to a medic,” one of the sailors said, speaking with the lilting accent of a commonborn Kaneiran. There was desperation in his voice as he pleaded with the dockworkers. “Please, just let us get him some help!”
“Get back on your ship!” another worker yelled, shoving the sailor back up the gangplank, causing him to crash into the other crew members struggling to get off the ship.
‘Don’t get involved,’ Cadeyrn warned in the exasperated tone of someone who knew she was absolutely going to get involved, no matter what they said.
“Why won’t you let them leave their ship?” Selissa called out to the men. If it had only been a matter of their papers not being in order, they would have handed them over to the port authorities. This seemed like there was something more to it.
The barrel-shaped man glared at her, only now noticing her presence.
“You want them to spread their disease all over the continent?” he sneered. “They can piss off back to the Isles instead!”
Selissa frowned. “What disease?”
One of the other workers answered in a hiss. “The Infelor Malady!”
‘Do you know what he’s talking about?’ Selissa asked Cadeyrn silently since she had a feeling she wouldn’t get a sensible explanation out of the men, all of whom had now gone back to yelling at each other.
‘I can’t say that I do. But it has been at least a century since I last had a host that went to Brykan, so my local knowledge might be outdated,’ the angel replied.
Whatever the Infelor Malady was, it sounded rather unpleasant, but the locals appeared to have little sympathy to spare for the distressed crew. Spotting a raggedly dressed child shuffling around the dock, Selissa pressed a couple of coins into his hand and told him to go to the nearest hospital or infirmary to fetch Seymour. The boy scurried off to fulfill her request, leaving her to watch the arguments continue. Soon, armed guards arrived and—once they got the story from the dockworkers—they ordered the distressed sailors back on the ship.
By the time Seymour arrived, there was no more shouting, but the sight of the grim-faced guards blocking the gangplank was enough for an air of tension to settle over the docks.
“What’s going on?” Seymour asked, shooting glances at the pale-faced sailors on the deck. They were keeping their distance to the gangplank, but clearly only because the men guarding it were armed.
“Someone on that ship is sick, but they won’t let the crew bring him to a medic,” Selissa told him, causing Seymour to frown.
“Why not?”
“They’re afraid the sailors will infect others with some malady,” she said.
“Infelor Malady?” Seymour said.
“You know it?”
“I have heard it mentioned, but I have never encountered anyone who was inflicted,” Seymour said. “But it’s such a feared disease that the ones who die from it are buried far away from any settlements.”
“Why not just burn them?” Selissa asked.
Seymour shrugged. “Superstition. Some believe that the sickness is magical in nature and that burning the body will set it free and allow it to infect anyone it meets.”
It seemed silly, but a distant memory of a funeral procession far out in the Ver’dohnian country rose in her mind. It hadn’t made sense to her back then, but now it seemed likely that they could have been burying a victim of this disease.
“Can you do something for them?” she asked the Nephilim.
“I can try,” Seymour said and walked toward the guards. “I’ll meet you back at the tavern, all right?”
Selissa moved to follow him. “Wait, I’m coming with—”
Seymour stopped dead in his tracks and grabbed her arm before she could finish her sentence.
“You absolutely are not,” he said firmly. “If whatever’s on that ship is contagious, you should stay as far away as possible. I can do this alone.”
“You might heal quick, but you are not immune to disease yourself,” Selissa said with a huff and tucked her arm free.
“That may be, but I have a lifetime of experience handling infectious illnesses,” Seymour said, his voice uncharacteristically hard. “Besides, I’m a healer, and these are the kind of risks I have to take. The only reason for you to risk it is stubbornness. Now go back to the tavern and wait for me.”
Shooting her a hard look, he turned around and approached the guards, leaving Selissa to stare after him in surprise at this unfamiliar forcefulness. As the guards reluctantly admitted him onto the ship, he shot her one last look over his shoulder as he walked up the gangplank. Selissa gave in and headed back to the tavern to join Feryll, Rowan and Teague.
The sky was darkening outside by the time Seymour stepped through the door. Selissa noticed he was wearing different clothes from earlier, but she decided not to mention it when she saw the look on his face.
“The man died an hour ago. I told the guards to quarantine the ship and call for the Daughters of Shaelar,” he said as he sank down into the chair beside her. “They will know what to do.”
Knowing there was nothing she could say, Selissa let him sit in silence and simply ordered him a drink.