Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was something in the water. It kept its distance, sticking to patches of inky black just below the surface. But it was there, and it was following them. Of that, if nothing else, Jayce Talis was certain.

Whatever it was, it was fast—strong too. Strong enough to cut through the dark water with ease, matching them mile for mile without respite. It had trailed The Discovery for days, weaving tirelessly through the ship’s wake, riding the same currents that carried them out into the unknown. 

It took great care to remain just out of sight, only revealing itself in pieces: the gentle sparkle of dark scales, a flash of pale skin, the whisper of a powerful tail. Fragments . Clues to what lurked beneath the waterline, but never more.

Jayce knew the stories, of course. What man could truly say he didn’t? Schoolboy and old mariner alike had heard whispers of the dark things that lurked on the edges of the map—strange and terrible monsters who made their homes in the depths and vicious beauties that dragged unsuspecting sailors down to join them. But those were only fairytales— fantasies. Certainly, nothing a man of science could or should lend credence to, as the professor was so often fond of saying. 

“We must lead by example, my boy,” he would cry, nose red and eyes slightly watery—both a by-product of too much time in the dusty library to which the professor was quite allergic. “If we give in to fear and superstition, we are little better than animals! Why the monsters they speak of are little more than life yet to be classified—discoveries to be made!” 

The professor’s emphatic words never failed to strike a chord. And on this occasion, it proved strong enough for Jayce to hold his tongue when he first caught sight of the creature. Sadly, correct as the professor’s words may have been, they offered little comfort in the end. If anything, they made Jayce’s observations all the more unsettling. After all, a monster was little more than a mindless beast. What hunted them now had all the hallmarks of intelligence— a far more frightening thing indeed. 

Jayce recalled with a chill that first restless night when—sleep having evaded him once again—he made his way up onto the deserted deck, casting his eyes out over the moonlit sea. Almost as if in a dream, the heavy clouds had parted, revealing a thousand stars glittering in the blackened sky. 

They made the water shimmer, drawing Jayce’s gaze down towards its dark surface. It was then, the moon high above to light the way, that he had noticed them: Two fallen stars trapped beneath the waves—wide and burning with a strange light. 

They stared up at him—unblinking and cold—for what felt like hours before vanishing back into the dark, leaving no trace behind but the sinking pit in his stomach. Heart racing, Jayce had quickly returned to his bunk, wishing with all his heart that what he had seen in the water would prove to be nothing more than a dream. But it hadn’t been, and the cold light of morning had brought with it no relief. 

Jayce shook his head, returning to the dry pages before him with a sigh. ‘The log,” as he had taken to calling the tattered notebook currently in his hands, had occupied most of his time in the past few days. Of course, it felt rather pointless on days like this when there was nothing of note to record—the only discovery being what horror the ship’s cook had unearthed for their dinner. But, a promise had been made to the professor, and Jayce Talis was, if nothing else, a man of his word. 

“ Captain on deck! ” The now-familiar cry sounded from across the ship, followed very shortly by the sound of the crew scrambling to occupy themselves. Jayce remained where he was, scribbling out the final account of the day with the flourish of his pen. More cries sounded from across the way, but Jayce paid them no mind. The ship’s affairs at large had little do with him, and he intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. 

One, however, did manage to draw Jayce’s attention—for it contained the two words he had longed to hear for days now: Land ahead ! A quick glance up from the yellowed paper of his notes revealed the truth of it. At the edge of the horizon, coming swiftly into focus, was their destination– a slash of green in a sea of blue . 

Jayce smiled, eyes fluttering closed as the wind brushed softly against his salty skin—a blessing in and of itself, really. As they veered further south, the temperature had risen sharply, the daytime heat fast approaching unbearable. Jayce had always prided himself on making the best of things, but even he had to admit that spending the better part of your day drenched in sweat was far from ideal–especially given the frequency with which it dripped down onto his notes, turning them into a blotchy mess. 

After a moment of blessed cool, Jayce opened his eyes once more—casting his gaze out across the water. They caught on the tree line with ease, tracing the jagged rocks and pale beaches that awaited them with awe and excitement. Indeed, the closer they drew, the lusher and wilder the isle looked—the kind of place teeming with life and mystery.  

Proud as he was to have been entrusted with the vital task of uncovering its secrets, recording them for posterity, Jayce suddenly found himself more than a little disappointed not to have shared the moment with the professor. While the old man was far too frail to have undertaken the voyage, Jayce would have certainly enjoyed the company if nothing else. Kind and obliging as the crew of the Discovery had been–with a few exceptions–they were hardly an exceedingly intellectual bunch, and he had quickly found himself starved for stimulating conversation. The captain tried his best but was always far keener to discuss the weather and the turning of the tides than anything else.

The sun was rapidly setting—the blue sky fading into vivid pink and burnished gold. The daylight, bright and intense as it was, was always quick to fade, and though he could always write by lamplight (should the need arise), it seemed a little pointless now. Jayce closed the log with a satisfying ‘slap’ and was about to turn when something caught his eye, dragging his gaze down to the water. It was an achingly familiar flash of scales, slick and shining in the dying light. 

He quickly leaned over the side, nearly dropping the log overboard in his haste to do so. Bright eyes scanned the shifting water with fervent speed, almost instantly catching upon two points of luminous—

“You’d best be careful, Mr. Talis,” came a booming voice from somewhere at his back. “We can’t have you falling overboard, now, can we? Old Heimerdinger would never let me hear the end of it, never mind the admiralty.” 

Jayce whipped around, only to be met by the captain’s piercing eyes. They were a remarkable shade of pale gray, as cold and bright as a winter sky. Captain Vander was a large man, larger even than Jayce, which was quite a feat indeed. He was handsome, too; his rough features only improved by the strands of silver in his hair and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. 

The captain wore his dark uniform coat, which unlike many aboard their little vessel, actually suited him—even if he rarely wore it. In fact, for the first month or so aboard The Discovery , Jayce had only seen him don it on four occasions, all of which were during the Sunday church service. However, he had seen it a great deal more following the arrival of the unplanned addition to their vessel’s crew. Though Jayce still wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.  

Vander smiled, massive hands clasped comfortably behind his back—the picture of rough grace. “Something on your mind, lad?” He asked kindly, eyes sparkling with equal parts amusement and quiet interest. 

Jayce tried not to wrinkle his nose at the title. He was, after all, nearly twenty-five—a man by most, if not all, accounts. In truth, coming from anyone else, it might have felt like an insult, but the captain seemed to mean well enough and had proved on more than one occasion to be a kind and fair man. He was generous, too, letting Jayce take up the greater part of his desk with notes and equipment, insisting he never used it anyway. 

Jayce paused, considering the question. It wouldn’t do to make a fool of himself so early in the journey—especially if he wished to hold on to the captain’s respect. Yet, even so, something deep—almost primal—within him found it difficult not to reveal his discovery. Unfortunately, before Jayce could decide either way, they were interrupted by the first mate—a rather heavy-set man by the name of Mr. ‘Benzo,’ though whether that was his Christian name or some sort of joke, Jayce wasn’t entirely sure. 

Mr. Benzo was nowhere near as kind or obliging as his captain. If anything, he was quite the opposite. He gave Jayce a rather irritated look, as though he were the one being interrupted rather than the other way around. When Jayce refused to budge, Benzo scoffed, turning to Vander with a sigh. 

“Your orders, Captain?” 

Vander hummed, sharp eyes scanning the horizon. “I suppose here is as good a place as any. We’ll drop anchor for the night and go ashore at daybreak.” 

“Aye-aye, Sir.” 

“Are you sure that’s wise?” At the daring question, the trio turned, only to find the ship’s only other civilian passenger, who, without making any sign of his approach, had come up alongside them. 

He was tall and slender, with a dark patch over his left eye and a crooked smile that made Jayce slightly uneasy. His undamaged eye was the purest blue, as fierce and treacherous as a stormy sea. Stevens was his name. A stranger aboard their vessel, rescued only days before—the lone survivor merchant vessel shipwrecked along the coast. Or so he claimed.

For his part, Jayce wasn’t entirely sure he believed it. In fact, had he not seen the wreckage himself, he might have gone so far as to declare it an outright lie. The reason for his mistrust was simple. Put plainly, there was something wrong about Stevens—something unnatural. It felt almost as though the skin he wore wasn’t his own, that crooked smile nothing but a mask with shadow lurking underneath. 

“If your opinion is desired, it will be requested,” Benzo shot back bitterly, his face pulling into a heavy scowl. Steven’s smile widened, revealing a row of sharp, white teeth. That blue eye seemed to glow brighter— more dangerous. 

At Jayce’s side, Vander tensed, dark brows pulling together in a soft frown. Jayce watched those keen eyes as they traced the curves of Stevens’ pale face, searching for something . When the captain spoke, it was softly, the lines of his handsome face more pronounced than they had been before. 

“I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t be for the best, Mr. Stevens.”

Stevens smirked but pushed no further, turning to stroll across the deck without another word. Three pairs of eyes watched him go—not all of them entirely friendly. 

“Sir,” Benzo began carefully. “I don’t like this. He’s—“ 

“Drop the anchor, Mr. Benzo.” 

“Sir—” 

“That’s an order.” 

“Aye, aye, Sir.” 

Jayce watched the first mate depart with interest, already turning over the strange interaction in his mind’s eye. One thing was abundantly clear: the captain and Stevens knew one another. Jayce was sure of it, though he had nothing in the way of proof to support that little conviction beyond the odd tension that seemed to course between them. There were the overlong glances, wordless exchanges, and—

“Well, is there?” The captain’s voice pulled Jayce from his thoughts, depositing him in the ever-growing gloom of the evening. 

“Captain?” 

Vander chuckled, frown vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with a good-natured smile. “Something on your mind, Talis,” he prompted gently.  

“I think…” Jayce paused, eyes drifting back out towards the water— considering. The dark indigo was fast careening towards black, the waves rocking gently against one another in an easy rhythm. Unbidden, Stevens’ question came to mind, bringing a swell of unease with it. It built and built until, at last, Jayce let himself be taken up by the current, dragged out into the unknown.

“I saw—That is, I thought I saw something in the water. Just now and several times before. I think it’s following us.” Much to Jayce’s relief, the captain didn’t laugh, though, with every passing moment, Jayce found himself wishing that he had. 

Vander smiled, voice low and gentle—not dismissive, but careful . “We’re almost off the map now, Mr. Talis. Lots of things out here.”

“Dangerous things?” 

This time Vander did laugh. It was not cruel or unkind, only genuinely amused. Those gray eyes sparkled, and for a brief moment, Jayce thought he saw them flicker towards Stevens, though they returned to meet his own in a flash. “Some more than others,” he replied with a smile. “Though not entirely untamable with enough time and patience.” 

Jayce barely had time to untangle the odd words before the captain spoke again, voice low and expression thoughtful. “A word of advice, Lad? When we make landfall tomorrow, I suggest you don’t stray too far from the camp on your own, eh? The wilderness can be a dangerous place. Especially for those unable to defend themselves from the things that call it home.” 

Jayce frowned, trying to curb the swell of irritation that followed the captain’s words. “I can defend myself.” 

Vander smiled once more, giving Jayce a knowing look. ‘ We’ll see, ’ it said, though the words that left the captain’s lips were far more diplomatic. 

“All I’m saying is you need to keep your wits about you, Mr. Talis. Something tells me you’re going to need them. As for what you think you saw…I wouldn’t dwell too long on it. It’s likely naught but a trick of the light. The water can do that to a man after a while, and I’ve heard from quite a few of my men that you haven’t been sleeping as well as you ought.” 

“You’re probably right,” Jayce admitted with a sigh, running a hand through his salt-stiff hair. Sleep had never come easily to him, and ever since that fateful night, it had barely come at all. Perhaps, the captain had a point– even if he was hiding something . 

“Well,” replied Vander with a booming laugh. “I should hope so. I’d be a rather poor captain if I wandered about being wrong all the time, wouldn’t I? Get some rest, Lad. We leave at daybreak, and given that you are the whole reason we’re here, I expect nothing but the best from you come morning.” With that, Vander clapped a massive hand over Jayce’s shoulder, giving it a hearty squeeze before taking his leave. Jayce watched him vanish into the hold a moment later, no doubt in search of his dinner. 

Jayce’s stomach rumbled at the thought—horrid as what waited for him in the galley was likely to be. Yet, he quickly found himself distracted, watching the horizon as it swallowed the sun. Soon enough, the stars would begin to wake, littering the night sky with constellations—to most of which he didn’t know the names, if they had names at all.

Did the fallen stars beneath the waterline have a name, he wondered? Or were they as nameless as all their brethren still hanging in the sky? Jayce shook his head at the mad thought and was about to turn when he became aware of the gaze boring a hole into his back. 

A shiver ran down his spine, followed by an unnatural chill coursing through his very veins. Jayce took a breath, trying to steady himself. He turned to find Stevens watching him from across the way, his long dark hair loose about his shoulders, the ends brushing against slim hips. Those thin lips were pulled into a crooked smile, lone blue eye glittering in the gloom. He leaned against the dark wood with fluid grace, the silver strands at his temples shining brightly in the blood-red of the dying sun. 

Aware that he now had Jayce’s undivided attention, Stevens’ smile widened, revealing those sharp, white teeth. A sudden gust of wind caught on his dark clothes, making the thin fabric billow around his lean form. That overlong hair, far too long to be respectable, was swept up in it as well. And for a moment, brief as any other, it almost looked as if Stevens was underwater.

Chapter Text

The cold light of dawn brought with it a surge of excitement to which almost none were immune. Green deckhand and seasoned sailor alike moved through their usual morning tasks with renewed eagerness, and on every corner of The Discovery, whispers of the adventure to come could be heard—coupled, of course, with complaints about the heat.

Only Stevens remained unmoved, seemingly determined to make his difference known to anyone who cared to notice it. He hung back from the fray, observing the preparations with a keen eye and an amused expression—an island of calm in a sea of chaos.

Try as he might to keep his attention where it rightly belonged—on the loading and stowing of his more sensitive equipment—Jayce found his eyes drawn to their guest with alarming frequency. So much so that he began to feel somewhat akin to a moth drawn towards an open flame. Though, unlike those poor creatures, Jayce was more than well aware that this one burned. 

All the same, there was no denying that Stevens cut a striking figure, a slash of black against the dawn. Even the pale sunlight seemed to favor him, the wind catching his dark hair in its fingers, making it trail out like molten shadow. It was eerily picturesque, bordering on beautiful, and Jayce, much to his deep embarrassment, was rather tempted to set it down on paper, though no medium could have done that glittering eye justice. 

If Stevens noticed the sidelong glances, he called no attention to it. If anything, he seemed entirely content to be observed, leaning against the side, pale hands clasped elegantly at his waist like some sort of statue—carved from marble rather than flesh. He was frighteningly still, unmoved and unmoving, though there was very little reason for him to do either. 

Most of the crew gave him a wide berth, either too busy or too wary to draw near—most of which was Mr. Benzo's doing. The first mate had been hard at work trying to sway the older hands to his side, muttering darkly about bad omens and ill-tides. However, it seemed that many of the younger men were less persuaded by superstition than their companions. Indeed, quite a few of them appeared almost enraptured by it. 

Throughout the morning, Jayce had watched several of them offer bright smiles and cheery greetings as they passed. One—a tall, handsome fellow with silver hair and eyes bluer than the depths themselves—had even gone so far as to pull Stevens into a light conversation, though he made himself scarce when, at long last, the captain emerged from the hold. 

Though Vander was prone to speaking in a booming voice, meant to be heard over the slap of sails and the crash of waves, it was lowered for Stevens—as was the captain himself. Jayce watched with rapt interest from across the way as Vander drew close, stooping low enough for the dark-haired man to whisper something in his ear. Those pale lips brushed almost against the captain's cheek, their words lost on the breeze. 

"Well," Jayce thought. "It seemed there could remain no further question. The evidence of their familiarity was there for all to see, laid out in the open at last. And yet — 

Jayce cast a furtive glance around the deck and was shocked to find that no one else seemed to have noticed. In fact, the odd pair might as well have been invisible for all the mind they were paid. All around them, the crew of The Discovery went about their work, completely unaware as Stevens raised a snowy hand to the captain's shoulder, long fingers skirting over the muscled curve of his arm. 

The touch was intimate, daring— scandalous. It became even more so when the captain shifted, taking one of Stevens' slim hands in his own, a rough thumb tracing over the delicate skin of his wrist.  

Jayce swallowed sharply, cheeks flushing more from sheer mortification than the heat—though both were rapidly increasing. He was about to turn away when Steven's caught his eye over the slope of Vander's shoulder, lips pulling into a sharp little smile.

Caught red-handed, Jayce moved to look away but found himself unable. Stevens' bright gaze seemed to have pinned him in place, forcing the breath from his lungs in short gasps. Jayce struggled against his invisible bonds, but it was no use. Strain as he might, he could not move—could not breathe, could not think. Across the deck, Stevens' smile darkened, blue eye raging with cold fire.

Scarcely a moment passed before the captain took his leave, striding towards the prow. He called out orders as he went, but Jayce didn't hear them. Indeed, he did not hear anything at all. 

The wind had picked up, the world overtaken by eerie stillness as Stevens stalked towards him. Every movement was slow and deliberate, blurred together until it seemed almost liquid. 

"Good morning,  Mr. Talis," Stevens said when at last he arrived before Jayce, offering him a cold smile. Around them, the silence thickened, the air swirling with something electric and unnamed. "The captain tells me you plan to take a survey of the isle today. Something about making note of the local fauna." Stevens tilted his head, and as though a spell had been lifted, sound came rushing back, the sudden shift loosening Jayce's tongue just in time to reply. 

"Yes," he stuttered, the word feeling ungainly on his lips. "Yes, I do."

Stevens' smile widened. "Then I wish you the best of luck. When you return to ship, I hope that I might persuade you to regale me with some of your findings. I have always had a bit of an interest in naturalism, though I wouldn't think to take it up myself. A little too much time in dusty old libraries for my liking." 

The request caught Jayce by surprise. It sounded earnest enough, which only intensified its strangeness. 'Earnest' being, after all, perhaps the last word Jayce would ever have used to describe the man before him. Curious, he decided to strike out, testing the waters. 

"Will you not be joining us then, Mr. Stevens?"

"I hadn't planned on it, though perhaps you could persuade me," Stevens said breezily, expression turning sly. "State your case, Mr. Talis. Why should I come along?"

"Well…" Jayce began haltingly, reeling as what had felt like solid ground shifted to empty air beneath his feet. "It would be a shame for anyone to miss a chance like this. To find a place unseen or touched by man is a rare thing—there's really no telling what we might find."

Stevens smiled, scarred lips twitching sharply. "That's a fine pitch, boy. But I think I'll remain behind all the same. Someone ought to keep an eye on the horizon." His tone darkened, growing somber. "There is as much danger there as there is waiting in the undiscovered corners of the world. Perhaps more."

Unsure what to make of the odd words, Jayce shifted his weight from side to side, a nervous hand moving to press against the cuff at his wrist. The familiar sensation of the gem beneath his fingers was a comfort, though it did little to temper the shudder that ran down his spine as Stevens observed him through dark lashes, thin brows pulled into a subtle frown.

"Well, I should really… "—Jayce nodded towards his supplies, swallowing sharply—"We're leaving soon, and I still have some preparations..." 

Steven's nodded, which was dismissal enough for Jayce. However, he had only taken a few steps before the man called after him—voice as light and cool as the summer breeze. "Mr. Talis?" 

Jayce turned, mesmerized by the odd pitch of the man's voice. It was rich and lilting, almost like muffled music pouring from a smoke-filled room. Stevens smiled almost sweetly, beckoning Jayce closer with the wave of his hand. 

Jayce was before him before he even had time to think, feet moving of their own accord. It felt almost like he had been pulled, the need to be near the odd man impossible to resist. They were close enough now for Jayce to take in the flecks of silver in that bright eye, the subtle sheen of sweat on milky skin.

"Yes?" 

Pale lips pulled back to reveal those sharp teeth, a vicious grin. "There's a cove on the western side of the island—about half a day's trek from where your captain intends to make camp. If you're looking for something truly novel, I suggest you try your luck there." Jayce nodded, breath coming in shallow draughts as Steven's leaned in closer, voice lowered to a soft purr. "However, I wouldn't tell the others if I were you. Truly wild things respond better to a gentle hand than a rough one. And from the look of it, yours is the only one for miles. 

"If you do go, be mindful of the tide. The water here has a mind of its own, and drowning, I'm told, is quite a terrible way to die. Good day." Quick as a whip, Stevens drew back, offering him one more amused smirk before sweeping out across the deck, leaving Jayce decidedly speechless. 

The breeze shifted as Stevens vanished from sight, growing stronger—sharper. And though in the bright morning light Jayce could not see it, at his wrist, the crystal—shattered and old as it was—began to glow.