The Last Passenger
The ship sailed for three more days.
The fog was thick, the sea was dark, the wind was cold. Elara stood at the bow, her eyes scanning the mist, her hand on the railing.
The first captain stood beside her.
“The heart says there is one more passenger,” the old woman said.
“The heart is never wrong.”
“Are you afraid?”
Elara was silent for a long moment.
“Terrified.”
“Good. Fear will keep you alive.”
On the fourth day, the fog parted.
A figure stood on the deck.
A woman. Old — older than anyone Elara had ever seen. Her hair was white, her skin was wrinkled, her eyes were pale. She wore a simple dress of gray wool, and her hands were empty.
But her face —
Her face was familiar.
“Elara,” the woman said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Elara’s heart stopped.
“Grandmother?”
The woman smiled.
It was a real smile, warm and bright and full of love.
“I’ve been gone a long time.”
“Fifty years.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you leave?”
Her grandmother was silent for a long moment.
“I didn’t leave. I was taken. Just like your father. Just like your mother. Just like the others.”
“Why didn’t you come back?”
Her grandmother looked at the sea.
At the black water.
At the darkness.
“Because I couldn’t. The ship wouldn’t let me.”
Elara walked to her.
She took her hands.
Her skin was cold.
“I’ve been looking for you my whole life.”
“I know. I’ve been watching you. From the ship. From the windows. From the spaces between.”
“Why didn’t you reach out?”
Her grandmother’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because I was afraid. Afraid you would hate me. Afraid you would reject me. Afraid you would forget me.”
“I could never forget you.”
“You’re just like your mother.”
“I learned from the best.”
They embraced.
The ship was silent.
The sea was calm.
The fog was gone.