The zee is still and very quiet.

[wintersday]

Little waves lap against the hull, soft, unceasing. Behind you, blemmigans chase blemmigans across your deck, and the Tireless Mechanic debates with a Murine Engineer over the matter of safety protocol. Specifically, the rat insists, there should be one. But never mind that. You’ve survived this long, and your mind right now is elsewhere. Something in the water draws your eye: a flash of color, a glimpse of something bright below.

Look close. Closer. There, mirrored on the glassy surface – or just below, or far below – you see the vision that hooked you.

You watched her fall.

A cold light burns beneath the zee.

A flash of viric brightens the water.