The Midnight Departure
Elara left her apartment at eleven-thirty.
The streets of Port Morning were empty, the windows dark, the lamps cold. The fog had rolled in from the sea, thick and white, swallowing the buildings, the docks, the world.
She walked alone.
The compass was in her coat pocket, warm against her chest. The needle did not spin. It pointed straight ahead, toward the dock, toward the light.
She reached the harbor at eleven-forty-five.
The dock was empty.
No ship. No crew. No passengers.
Just the fog. Just the silence. Just the waiting.
Thorne was there.
He stood at the end of the dock, his gray coat dark against the mist, his hands clasped behind his back. He did not turn when she approached.
“You came,” he said.
“You knew I would.”
“Your father was the same. Stubborn. Foolish. Brave.”
“Did you know him?”
Thorne was silent for a long moment.
“I was his first mate. On the Morning Star. The night he was taken.”
Elara’s heart stopped.
“You were on the ship?”
“I was on the ship. I watched them take him. I watched them drag him below. I watched the ship sail away.”
“How did you escape?”
Thorne turned.
His gray eyes were hollow.
“I didn’t. They let me go. They always let one go. To tell the story. To warn the others. To keep the legend alive.”
The bell rang.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
Midnight.
The fog parted.
The ship was there.
It was beautiful — more beautiful than any ship Elara had ever seen. Its hull was black, its sails were white, its lanterns burned with pale silver light. It seemed to glow from within, as if it were made of moonlight and shadow.
And on its bow, a figurehead.
A woman.
Her face was pale, her eyes were closed, her hair was carved from wood. She looked peaceful. She looked sad. She looked hungry.
“The Morning Star,” Thorne whispered.
A gangplank extended from the ship.
It touched the dock.
It waited.
“The ship will take you,” Thorne said. “If you choose to board.”
“What about you?”
Thorne shook his head.
“I cannot board. I have been on the ship before. It will not take me again.”
“Then why are you here?”
Thorne looked at her.
His gray eyes were wet.
“To say goodbye.”
Elara walked to the gangplank.
The wood was warm beneath her feet.
She looked back at Thorne.
“Will I ever see you again?”
He smiled.
It was a sad smile, small and tired and full of years.
“I don’t know. But I hope so.”
She turned.
She walked onto the ship.
The gangplank retracted.
The fog closed.
The ship sailed into the darkness.