Emily woke slowly to the rhythmic sigh of the waves. The sun was already high on the horizon, warming the sand beneath her, though the sea breeze still carried a refreshing coolness. She stretched, feeling a satisfying ache in muscles pushed to their limit the previous day. Her body, adorned by little more than sand, tingled with nervous energy, anticipating the sunset meeting.

  Dorian was already awake, sitting cross-legged near the smoldering remains of st night's fire, meticulously arranging seashells and dried seaweed stalks into complex, spiraling patterns in the sand, his brow was furrowed in concentration, though that didn't prevent him from sneaking a few gnces in Emily's direction.

  "Morning," Emily murmured, trying to remain casual as she reversed a stretch that was clearly requiring all of his willpower to look away from. "Any sign of..."

  "No pirates," Dorian confirmed, his gaze sweeping the empty horizon before returning to his patterns. "Or monks."

  Emily stood and demurely walked to the water's edge. The turquoise waves looked deceptively calm this morning, sparkling under the bright sun. Scanning the cliffs above, she could make out a few of the foot and hand holds she'd carved out of it. She dipped a toe in the water, shuddering at its cool touch.

  "I have further preparations to make at the meeting site," Dorian said, his eyes mostly on the back of her head. "Thought I'd relight the Stoneshell fire while I'm there, so you can teleport to it. If you can light up this branch for me, I'll carry it up."

  "Shouldn't I come too?" Emily asked, looking over her shoulder at Dorian, who was holding up a massive dead branch.

  Dorian shook his head. "There's no sense in both of us climbing when you just can teleport up once I light the fire. Besides, you need to rest today. Better to rest here, in privacy, than under the hot sun on the clifftop, constantly watching for monks."

  Emily had to agree. The cove was pleasant, with its freshwater seep and plenty of shady spots to rest in.

  "Once I've made the preparations, there will be very little I can do during our meeting. It'll be your magic against Richard's." Dorian didn't quite make eye contact as he said this, as though he was ashamed of some admission of weakness.

  Emily considered for a moment. "You're right," she said, summoning a fireball in her palm. "Heads up!"

  The fireball shot out to Dorian's side, and he reached out to catch it with the length of wood. It ignited with an enormous whoosh. Dorian held it away, turning his head to avoid the sparks.

  "Nice catch," Emily giggled.

  Dorian saluted her with his free hand, before turning to scoop up his spellbreaking detritus. Emily spied a few small scraps of blue fabric among the shells and seaweed stalks and noticed that his loincloth was looking somewhat more threadbare this morning. It wasn't fair, how little fabric men needed to cover up the essentials.

  "Tea's brewing," Dorian said, pointing at the contraption he'd rigged up to hold Emily's cup over the campfire. "Give me about an hour, then test whether you can teleport to the clifftop."

  Emily nodded, though she didn't have a watch. Everyone in Thesson seemed able to tell the time almost to the minute just by looking at the position of the sun, but it wasn't a skill she'd yet perfected.

  Dorian waved and began his ascent, going slowly and keeping the Stoneshell fme aloft. Emily watched him until he was out of sight, then turned back to the ocean. She wondered where Caelum had gotten to.

  As she watched the waves, a dark speck appeared further out, bobbing on the waves. A small boat, a simple fishing vessel with a single patched sail, was making its way slowly parallel to the coast. The shape of a person in the vessel was visible, but too far for Emily to make out in any detail. Hopefully, that meant they couldn't see Emily either.

  Emily's dread of the approaching sunset encounter was made worse by the seeming inevitability that she'd be naked for it. If she spent the whole day gathering seaweed, she might be able to coax it into slimy and unstable coverings, but that would be destroyed as soon as she teleported, a power she would almost certainly use. Survival trumped modesty, especially given how poorly she'd been able to protect her modesty thus far. "It's nothing he hasn't seen before," she told herself, though that hardly made her feel better.

  Out in the ocean, the fishing boat seemed to be rocking more than usual, the water around it churning unnaturally. It was not a storm swell, but a violent, localized disturbance, as if the sea had hiccuped. A whirlpool, small but vicious, seemed to open beneath the vessel.

  Emily watched in horror as the boat tilted sharply, spun once, and then, with horrifying speed, was sucked beneath the waves. A piercing cry broke out through the still morning air.

  A golden head bobbed to the surface where the boat had been, arms filing wildly.

  There was no conscious decision. Emily reacted purely on instinct, sprinting into the surf. She was a strong swimmer, and with the Stoneshell, had no fear of drowning. That was likely not the case for the person filing in the wake of their capsized vessel.

  Emily dove through the first line of breakers, the icy shock stealing her breath for only a moment before the Stoneshell kicked in and water filled her lungs like air.

  The water was chaotic, pulling her in unexpected directions. The undertow felt wrong, erratic, not the steady pull of a natural tide but the frantic tugging of disrupted magic. She forced herself forward, powerful strokes cutting through the chop.

  She dove deeper, the world shifting to muted blues and greens, the roar of the surface repced by a muffled underwater thrum. She could see the struggling figure more clearly now—it was a woman, close to her own age, perhaps slightly younger, caught in the grip of the same vicious current that had sunk her boat. She had long blonde hair and wore a simple peasant's dress.

  Emily surfaced near the girl, gasping, "Hold on! I'm here to help!"

  The girl choked on seawater, her eyes wide with terror. Emily grabbed her arm. She seemed unaware of her savior, panicked and thrashing as if Emily was a malevolent force trying to drag her down rather than save her. "Calm down!" Emily shouted, trying to get a secure grip. "Breathe! I've got you!"

  Fighting the relentless, unnatural current felt like swimming through invisible ropes. It pulled them sideways, then tried to suck them under. Emily kicked hard, towing the terrified girl, whose struggles were lessening now, repced by a worrying limpness.

  Though Emily could swim well on her own, she had never been a lifeguard, or needed to pull another person through the water. The girl seemed to be losing consciousness, becoming more of a dead weight by the second.

  Throwing fireballs around wasn't going to help anyone, so Emily focused on the Bronzeband. Could she use its power to move the seabed? She'd only tried to manipute stone and rock before, but was that really the limit of the Bronzeband's powers?

  Emily stuck her head under the churning water and saw whirlwinds of swirling sand. She focused her will, picturing the grains of sand coming closer together, compacting, forming a shield behind her and the drowning girl.

  It was a clumsy, desperate attempt, but before her eyes, the swirl of sand slowed and appeared to solidify, calming the waves just enough for her to pull the girl's head above water and keep it there.

  Kicking with a sudden burst of strength, she finally felt the shallower slope beneath her feet. She dragged the girl forward until they could stand, waist-deep in the churning surf. To her relief, the girl managed to keep her footing. Emily wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her from the water.

  Both of them colpsed on the sand, the girl coughing up seawater. Emily's own breath came in ragged gasps, her adrenaline fading to reveal deep fatigue. She'd done it—she'd saved the girl. In the water, without a single fireball, using the Bronzeband to control sand.

  Down the beach, splintered pieces of wood that had once been the girl's boat washed ashore. Emily remembered Caelum's words about the sudden change in the waters. That whirlpool must have been a manifestation of the chaos that the Azure Sphere had held at bay. A knot of worry tightened in Emily's stomach. Richard's desperation for the Bronzeband was throwing this entire coast into chaos.

  "Th-thank you," stammered the girl, once her coughing had subsided. She pushed wet blonde hair from her face. "You saved my life."

  Emily managed a shaky smile, pulling herself into a sitting position. "Gd I could help," she managed, her voice hoarse. The girl mirrored her, unconsciously tugging at the hem of her soaked, simple dress, and a pang of envy, sharp and unexpected, nced through Emily.

  "The sea's gone mad," the girl whispered, staring out at the deceptively calm waves. "I've never seen anything like it. Mama warned me, she said she saw omens, but we'd been fighting so I went out anyway." Her face crumpled. "If you hadn't been here... I would have... I would have... ah!"

  The fragile control broke, and the girl dissolved into anguished wailing, burying her face in her hands. "I'm sorry Mama! I should have listened! The boat is lost! How will we catch fish? My brother was right, girls can't handle the sea!"

  Emily flinched inwardly. Comforting crying strangers wasn't exactly her forte. She awkwardly patted the girl's trembling shoulder. "There, there," she murmured, feeling hopelessly inadequate. Her own problems—the impending confrontation, the impossible choice about the Bronzeband, her own constant, humiliating nudity—felt miles away yet simultaneously pressed in on her. This girl's pain was immediate, tangible.

  "It's not your fault," Emily said, trying for a firmer tone, needing to ground herself as much as the girl. "The magic here... it's disrupted. Because the Azure Sphere from the Abbey was stolen. No one could have avoided that whirlpool, man or woman."

  The girl's head lifted, tears streaking her face, confusion repcing some of the raw grief. "The... Azure Sphere?" she asked, voice trembling. "It's... gone?"

  Emily nodded gravely. "I was there right after it happened. The Abbey dome colpsed."

  "Are you... are you one of the monks?" the girl asked, a flicker of suspicion in her tear-filled eyes.

  "No," Emily said. "Just a... visitor."

  "Oh good, I hate monks! Everyone around here does. Always doing crazy magic, messing around with the natural order! And they act as if they invented the Azure Sphere as if it wasn't here long before their abbey was founded, doing just fine before they built that silly dome to 'protect' it. Fat lot of good that's done!" She gred fiercely over her shoulder towards the unseen Abbey.

  Her sudden vehemence startled Emily, though she was no fan of the Tiedavon monks either.

  "Anyway, you don't sound like you're from around here," she continued. "But if you're not a monk, then you're a most welcome visitor! I'm Octavia."

  "Emily." She stood, sand clinging to her skin, and offered a hand to help Octavia up.

  "Thank you for rescuing me, Emily." Octavia took her hand, her grip surprisingly firm despite her trembling legs. "I am forever in your debt. Perhaps... perhaps you would accept an invitation to dine in my home. It is not much, but it is all I can offer."

  Emily's stomach, silent during the crisis, suddenly rumbled loud enough for both of them to hear. Food. Real food, not just roasted tubers scavenged by Dorian. The thought was incredibly appealing. "I would love to," she said, meaning it more than Octavia could know.

  Octavia cpped her hands in delight. "Wonderful! Go put on your clothes and we'll away!"

  Clothes. Right. Emily was naked. Octavia must have assumed that she had tossed off her clothes before diving into the water to rescue her. Why would she think anything else? Emily smiled awkwardly, trying to think up an expnation. "Uh, well, that's, um, actually, the thing is," Emily stammered, heat flooding her cheeks. Her mind scrambled for a pusible, non-magical expnation that didn't sound completely insane. "I, uh, don't really have anything to wear right now."

  Octavia's brow furrowed, confusion clouding her face. "Were you robbed?" Her eyes swept over Emily, taking in the Stoneshell and Bronzeband. "No, you still have your jewelry... Was it...? Were you... attacked?" Her voice dropped, filled with horrified concern.

  "Oh, no, nothing like that!" Emily rushed to reassure her, waving her hands dismissively. The thought was appalling. "It's complicated. I just... lost my clothes." How utterly me did that sound?

  Octavia tilted her head. "So... you've just been wandering around this beach... with no clothes on?"

  "Um, I guess, yeah. Didn't really have another choice."

  A look of sympathetic understanding, mixed perhaps with pity, dawned on Octavia's face. "Well," she said slowly, plucking thoughtfully at the wet fabric of her own dress. "I suppose that's all the more reason for you to come back to the vilge with me. I can certainly spare another dress for the woman who pulled me out of the sea."

  Relief washed over Emily. "That would be... amazing," she breathed. "Thank you, Octavia." Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have to face Richard completely bare after all. The thought alone eased a knot of tension she hadn't realized she was holding.

  "Come then," Octavia said, already leading the way along the edge of the beach, away from the secluded cove and towards a worn path that skirted the base of the cliffs. "Our vilge, Port Azurea, isn't far. Just around this headnd."