But then, all of a sudden, the Calypso steadied. The wind gradually died down and the waves subsided. Little by little, the ocean reached a new equilibrium, becoming level, a normal sea once again. While Finn continued bailing, Cob was able to wipe his eyes and gaze ahead. He saw the rocky isle of Widow’s Peak growing larger in his vision.

He nervously exchanged glances with Finn. Below the surface, the city of Aleuthea was underwater once more. Cob’s chest tightened as they came within hailing distance of Widow’s Peak.

‘Please,’ he muttered. ‘Dion . . . Chloe . . . Where are you?’

Cob was now circling the isle, but the steep slopes showed not the slightest sign of life.

Then Finn stood, grabbing hold of the mast to steady himself. He cried out and pointed. Cob saw movement in the water and pushed the tiller sharply, taking them toward what appeared to be a person swimming. No, two people.

One was a young man, his hair plastered to his crown, gasping for breath. Dion was treading water. He held Chloe in his arms, her eyes closed as he struggled to keep her head high.

Cob lashed the tiller in place and leaped across the boat to lower the sail, slowing the vessel down. The first to come abreast, Finn grabbed hold of Chloe as Dion held her up. Cob then took hold of Dion’s outstretched arm, hauling him until he and Chloe were both sprawled out in the pooled water in the floor of the boat.

‘Liana?’ Cob asked.

Panting and wheezing, Dion lifted his head, staring at Chloe anxiously until she coughed, ejecting a stream of water. He then pulled himself to his feet and gripped the mast.

‘Lad, take it easy,’ Cob protested.

Dion’s sodden tunic was ragged and torn. He had a circle of bruises around his neck, along with red scratches on his face and body.

But he gazed toward the horizon and shook his head. ‘Liana. Take us out to sea,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I can sense her.’

Cob drew alongside another of the Lost Souls, a low island far out to sea, distant enough from the events at Cape Cush that the waves were gentle, and the wind blew as it should. He exchanged a worried glance with Finn as he dropped the sail, allowing the Calypso to coast to the rocky shore until it struck with a gentle nudge.

Liana was sprawled on her stomach. She wasn’t moving.

Dion leaped out of the boat before anyone could stop him, stumbling and almost falling but righting himself. Rushing to the slight young eldran, he crouched at her side and put his ear against her mouth. ‘She’s breathing,’ he called back. His jaw set tightly, he lifted her up in his arms. ‘Finn, be ready. I’ll pass her over.’