The flutist stood at the railing of the ship, playing a cheery jig over it all. The song died when Lonan skidded to the water’s edge. He looked Lonan up and down.

“I knew I’d seen your eyes before,” he said, and leered. “So sorry for your loss.”

“What do you mean?” Lonan glared up at him. A hot wind picked up, magic and spice-smelling. The ship leaned and began to drift. The Witch only smiled.

“Wait!” Lonan sprinted after, crashing into the shallows. Sea spray hit his arms, his chest. He waded in further. “What do you mean?”

But the Witch disappeared into the scurrying crew without another word. Lines of Runes glowed to life over the wood. The wood groaned and then shrieked from wind. The black ship carried away into a canter, a gallop, and at length into a trick of light at the horizon’s edge. The wind died and the sun rose. Lonan Connelly was left behind, soaked in the wake of another ship that would not come back.

–Elyan White, “Lost and Found”

If you’re wondering why three at once, it’s partway technical difficulties and partway sudden, cataclysmic business. Thanks for staying tuned!