Icarus lay on the boat.
He wasn't even trying to row anymore.
The waves carried him wherever they pleased.
Besides—
he was too tired.
He sighed and turned onto his side, the harsh sun beating down on him.
I can't believe the sun is still shining, he thought. The world should be screaming for everything I've lost.
He curled in tighter.
I hope the world ends.
A pause.
The world didn't end.
Icarus sat up slowly and stared at the sea.
At least the sea is honest. It doesn't pretend I'm not alone.
After the initial storm of grief had passed, there was nothing left.
No rage.
No tears.
Just a dull, aching emptiness.
At the end of the day—
no one really matters.
Icarus exhaled.
And then he jumped.
The sea swallowed him whole.
The moment the water hit, he shut his eyes. The salt burned too much to keep them open.
Ah… the sea in my veins.
He opened his mouth.
Let the water in.
It was unbearably salty.
He thought, distantly, of an old Solmaran legend—
The sea is made from the tears of the God of Time when he lost the one he loved. That is why it flows… just like time.
His vision darkened.
Faded.
Disappeared.
I'm free.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Icarus woke up coughing.
Water burned in his throat as he gasped for air, his body shaking violently.
His clothes were soaked.
His chest ached.
His lungs screamed.
Is this the afterlife?
He pushed himself up, wheezing.
What is this place…?
He sat on a simple bed—just a mattress and white sheets.
Not a place a prince would ever sleep.
But I'm not a prince anymore, am I?
The room was small.
Wooden.
Rough, but sturdy.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of unknown things. Fishing rods rested in the corners. A wide window overlooked the endless sea.
A fisherman's house…
He stood slowly and walked to the window.
The sea stretched endlessly.
Too close.
The tides must be dangerous here.
A voice spoke behind him.
"You're awake."
Icarus turned.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Tall. Lean. Her skin tanned from the sun, her body marked with white scars. Dark hair braided down her back.
She leaned casually against the wall.
"I wasn't sure you'd survive."
Icarus said nothing.
He hadn't wanted to.
She continued, studying him.
"I found you in the sea while fishing. Caught you instead of a fish."
A pause.
"What were you doing out there?"
Icarus gripped the hem of his shirt tightly.
"That's none of your business."
Her eyebrow lifted.
"Oh? Attitude already? Didn't expect that from someone I just saved."
Icarus looked away.
"…Sorry."
She waved it off.
"What's your name?"
"…Icarus."
"Family?"
He shook his head.
Understanding flickered across her face.
"Right."
She sighed.
"My name's Agatha."
He repeated it quietly.
"Agatha…"
She nodded.
"I suppose you expect me to house you?"
Icarus hesitated.
Agatha noticed—and sighed again.
"It's fine. You can stay."
Icarus nodded.
She's scary.