Chapter 82: Building A Boat

The shore’s floor wasn’t quite sand and really wasn’t quite mud, to be honest it was rather strange: A black hybrid of the two that shifted underfoot with every step, cool and faintly damp even where the black water hadn’t touched it in a while, clinging to our boots in thin, sucking traces every time we lifted a foot.

And every so often, the surface of the water surged, slow and heavy, sending a shallow wave creeping up across the shoreline before retreating back into the dark, leaving a dark tideline behind that never quite dried.

None of us trusted it enough to stand too close.

"We need a boat," Sera said, arms crossed, studying the water like it had personally offended her. "I’m not walking through that if I can help it."

"Nobody’s walking through that," Mary said flatly.

Theodore nudged one of the half-buried wooden slabs with his boot. "We’ve got material, at least."

There were more of them scattered along the shore than I had first noticed from the hilltop, thick, weathered planks, some still bearing faint traces of old carvings worn nearly smooth by time, half-sunk into the black sand like the remains of something that had washed up here long before any of us existed, remnants of a shipwreck none of us wanted to think too hard about.

"Enough for a hull, maybe," Arthur said, crouching to examine one. "If we can get them to hold together."

That was when I thought of the armor.

"I’ve got something that might help," I said, and summoned Starlight Hurricane.

I summoned Starlight Hurricane. The familiar mesh appeared in my hands, but instead of forming around my body, I pulled at its edges.

The threads loosened.

What had been a compact sheet of armor began to unravel, individual strands separating and stretching outward without breaking, the material becoming thinner as it expanded.

I stared at it for a moment.

"Well... that’s useful."

"You’re going to use your armor," Sera said slowly, "as boat material."

"You have a better idea?"

Well, she didn’t.

We spent the next stretch of time hauling slabs into a rough, overlapping shape along the shoreline, testing angles, discarding pieces that split too easily under pressure, adjusting for the slow, persistent leaning of the black sand beneath us.

It wasn’t glamorous work. My hands were raw within the first twenty minutes, splinters catching under my nails more than once, and more than a few of Theodore’s attempts to wedge planks into place ended with him swearing under his breath and starting over.

"This would go faster if any of us actually knew what we were doing," Mary pointed out, not unkindly, watching Arthur attempt to angle a particularly stubborn slab for the third time.

"None of us are shipwrights, Mary."

"Clearly..."

Once we had something resembling a hull, wide enough for the five of us to sit shoulder to shoulder without immediately capsizing, I stretched Starlight Hurricane across the gaps between planks, layering it thin and taut, hoping the material’s resistance would be enough to keep the whole thing from simply falling apart the second it touched water.

"Now we need something to actually hold it together," I said, eyeing the loose joints with mounting doubt. "Rope, nails, something."

Mary held up a hand before any of us could suggest raiding what little rope we still carried. "I’ve got it."

She closed her eyes, and thin strands of pure light gathered between her fingers, twisting and braiding together with a soft, steady hum, tightening and solidifying into something that looked, disturbingly, almost exactly like rope, except it glowed faintly gold at the edges and felt warm to the touch when I reached out to test a length of it.

"That’s incredible... My vines are weak to be honest..." Arthur said, genuinely impressed and kind of depressed

"It’s not permanent," Mary warned, already working the light-rope through the gaps in the hull, binding plank to plank, plank to fabric, fabric to plank again. "It’ll hold for a while. I can’t promise how long."

"Long enough to cross the water is all we need," Sera said.

We worked in careful, deliberate passes after that, weaving Mary’s light-rope through every joint and seam, reinforcing the weakest points twice over, testing each section by pressing down hard and watching for give.

A few spots groaned under the pressure, wood flexing in ways that made my stomach twist a little each time.

Most held.

The ones that didn’t got torn out and redone, slower and tighter the second time around.

The black water surged again while we worked, closer this time, licking up almost to where Theodore was crouched, and he scrambled back with a sharp curse, nearly dropping the plank he had been holding, boots slipping in the wet black sand.

"That water is way too interested in us," he muttered, wiping damp sand off his knee, eyes fixed warily on the dark surface until it finally settled back down.

"It’s fine," Sera said, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced herself. "Keep working." ℯ

By the time the light had shifted, dimmer now, the strange sky above cycling toward whatever passed for evening in this place, the boat finally sat finished before us, hull curved and uneven but solid, Starlight Hurricane stretched taut across every gap, Mary’s glowing rope binding the whole structure together in tight, careful loops.

I ran a hand along one seam, testing it, and felt it hold firm under the pressure, the light-rope thrumming faintly under my fingers like something alive rather than woven.

"Well," Arthur said, stepping back to admire the finished shape, hands on his hips, "it’s ugly."

"It floats," Mary said. "That’s the only requirement."

"We hope it floats," Theodore corrected.

"Thank you, Theodore," Mary said, not looking at him. "Very reassuring."

Sera crouched beside the hull, studying the black water lapping gently a few feet away, then looked back at the rest of us, something steady and resolved settling into her expression, the same look she had worn right before blowing Sun’s Grace into a clearing full of Calfeeths.

"Only one way to find out."