She'd returned to her grandmother's home, begun to put down roots there. It felt wrong. The Peak was stony, empty, silent. Almost chillingly so. For somewhere Eden had always forbade her from going, now it seemed... strange. Too still. Too quiet. A tomb, in ways she can't place. It makes her head spin. A place so built up in her memory that it couldn't have been real. And now? It sits, quiet and largely empty. The mountains a mausoleum, filled with ghosts far older than Fate could fathom. Everything is cold, and the chill lives in her ribs. It's like moving through a dream, a nightmare.
Old nightmares. Nightmares, memories that aren't hers. Fate turns away, stiffly. There are islands to see, a father to confirm dead.
If that's her quest, why doesn't she go straight to the Cove? Then again, she knows. She should know. Fate wouldn't see it. She wouldn't look. The rumors had long since died down, but there's a part of her that knows beyond knowing. He's gone, and she can't be bothered to care. He never did.
She drifts. Drifts until she can find somewhere warmer, somewhere to explore. Fate wouldn't necessarily make herself known, she's just here to gather information. Move through the islands and leave no trace. Figure out exactly where everyone had gone, and where it would be worth stirring the pot. Gaze steady and cold, she pulls herself from the sea. Daylight warm around her shoulders, though it wouldn't last for very long. Early afternoon at best, she makes landfall in the Paradise.
I’m not like them
but I can pretend
|