The Eighth Sea

Chapter 13

Levi

According to Charlotte, it was almost midnight, and the crew had been partying for a solid three hours. Wren was nowhere to be seen, which was odd; Levi thought that a party would be exactly Wren's scene. Even Hector was there, helping himself to some of Patricia's liquor.

Levi didn't have much time to dwell on the matter of the missing captain. Francis seemed to want him to help them with convincing Charlotte to get Pierre to leave the party (he was a bit too drunk and was spewing random lines of love poetry to whoever would listen), so Levi was quickly roped into it.

After helping escort a rather irritating Pierre off the deck and back to his cabin, Levi went back up to talk to a slightly drunk Hector. He found the first mate by the rails, looking out to the open sea, drink still in hand.

"Can't believe we're almost there," Hector slurred as Levi went to stand beside him. "I've never been there before."

"To the Eighth Sea?"

"Yep."

"Wren's been there before, right?"

Hector grunted in affirmation. "Y'know, most people who enter the witch's realm never leave. Wren got really lucky."

"I don't think I'll be that lucky," Levi muttered as he thought about how this was likely the last voyage he was ever going to be on. After all, they were going to sell his soul to Scylla. That's not exactly something you can come back from.

"Hey, don't say that," Hector mumbled through the alcohol. "I'm sure you'll survive dyin'. It's not like death has a 100% mortality rate." He paused for a moment, as if trying to understand the logic of his own words before just giving up and going back to his drink. "Want some?"

"Sure." Levi held out his hand as Hector handed the bottle of moonshine to him. He took a quick swig, coughing at the high alcohol content. He was more into rum, so it was his first time tasting moonshine.

"Not your thing?"

"Not really."

They stood there for a while in silence, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship and the sounds of the raucous party. Levi couldn't help but feel a sense of dread settle in his stomach as he listened to the noise coming from the ocean waves. He knew that they were close to their destination. He remembered Uncle Tobias and how he never got to say goodbye. He remembered Queen Aria and her grocery list and her stupid radishes and her stupid letter correspondence.

It was strange thinking about the life he had. So instead of dwelling on it, he drowned himself in the alcohol. It tasted way too strong and it burned going down, but soon he was pleasantly drunk, Patricia's moonshine doing all the thinking for him.

After that, most of the night was a crazy blur. He remembered dancing on top of the tables, spinning with Hector and breaking the crew's only plate when he stomped on it a bit too hard after a particularly energetic waltz. Gerald, the dishwasher who was now mostly relieved of his most tedious duty, kissed him for that. He kinda liked it. He knew he had belted his heart out singing along with the rest of the crew to a song he didn't even know all the lyrics too, and he clearly recalled almost toppling overboard before being hauled back to his cabin by a very concerned Francis.

He woke up the next afternoon with the worst headache of his life, his shirt on inside out, and his shoes nowhere to be found.

"Hey," Wren greeted as he barged into Levi's small cabin without knocking. "I found your shoes. They were hanging from the crow's nest. No idea how you got them up there."