“Up the rigging this way, my lady,” Captain Pyne said. He let her go first and followed behind. She had climbed up the rigging more than once and loved the feeling of being up in the crow’s nest at the apex of the mast. Gripping the ropes one by one as she climbed, she felt exhilarated as the wind streamed through her hair. When she reached the top, the sailor in the nest gripped her wrist and helped her climb up.

“Over yonder, my lady,” the sailor said in a rough but respectful manner. “I don’t quite know what to make of it. I’ve seen naught like it in all my years at sea.”

Sinia waited for Captain Pyne and swept the hair from her face as she gazed at the horizon. The island was a verdant paradise, and she could hear the noise of birds even from the distance. To her amazement, though, much of the island was partially submerged. She could see the rocks and reefs below the clear blue water. There was a whitish outline in the water, marking the boundaries of the island.

That was when she saw it.

There was a deep gulf off the western sprit of land, and what appeared to be a massive underwater waterfall, as if the entire ocean were draining into that singular point. The waters in the chasm were an astounding shade of blue and green with white-capped foam. It was like staring off a cliff at a waterfall, except it was all beneath the surface of the sea. If she had not seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have understood that such a thing was even possible.

“Do you see it, my lady? Do you see it?” the sailor said.

“It’s the entrance to the Deep Fathoms,” Sinia whispered, feeling her heart sear with the truth of the words. The underwater trench was wide enough to sink a ship much larger than theirs.

“What do we do, my lady?” Captain Pyne asked her. He wiped his mouth on his forearm, looking down at the scene they were drawing toward.

She closed her eyes and listened to the quiet deep inside her. The current was dragging the ship toward the gulf.

“That is our destination, Captain,” she said, opening her eyes and fixing him with her gaze. “We take the ship into it.”

“Going in is the easy part,” he said nervously. “But my lady—how . . . how do we get out? Isn’t the Deep Fathoms the land of the dead?”

She stared at the surging surf and the gaping breach. She felt drawn to it, pulled inexorably to the land of her prebirth.

“It is more than that, Captain,” she said softly, giving him a comforting touch on his arm. “It is much more than that. The Fountain is calling me home. I can hear its music. Will we not obey its summons?”