Life aboard the Violet soon returned to its steady rhythm. The encounter with the sunken galley had been a rare disturbance. Now the ship held a firm course toward Nightingale.
The children couldn't quite grasp what had changed after the arrival of the three-headed puppy, whom they had named Lucky. But the next day, the crew treated them with even greater warmth.
Lucky wasn't the most sociable dog. Perhaps life aboard the galley had soured him to people. But aboard the Violet, his nature quickly shifted. Grace, with her usual charm, had won the pup's heart. He delighted in playing with her, and she took great joy in their games.
She never tormented the dog—though she couldn't resist sometimes trying to turn him into a spirited steed. Riding Lucky soon became another part of her daily routine, alongside her training, family conversations, and card games.
Her love for cards remained unshaken. More and more sailors began joining her and the cook in their games. Despite consistently losing, they laughed off their defeats and praised the girl's talent—only inflating her ego further.
This change in attitude had followed Captain Simbad's conversation with Katarina.
The captain had announced to the crew that he and Katarina were now sworn siblings. Any ill will shown toward her or the children, he declared, would be taken as a personal insult.
Though the crew quietly wondered at this sudden change, they obeyed their captain's wishes. From that day on, they treated the children as if they were their own nieces and nephew.
Gray, meanwhile, spent more and more time with the sharp-eyed helmsman from the Empire of Six Pillars. No one aboard knew his real name—not even the crew—but everyone called him Eagle Eye, thanks to his unmatched vision and keen observation.
Eagle Eye appeared to be around fifty. He was wiry rather than thin, not exactly short but somehow compact, with a large, wild mop of hair. At first glance, one might have mistaken him for an eccentric scholar—harmless but mysterious.
Though clumsy in everyday matters—not quite a burden but always somehow awkward—he was humble, patient, and impervious to heat or cold. His oddities only made the crew love him more.
Today, Gray was visiting Eagle Eye in his cabin. Katarina now trusted "Captain Simbad" enough to let her children interact freely with the sailors, though never without her watchful senses following their every move.
"Eagle Eye," Gray asked, peering around the cabin, "why do you keep messing around with those disgusting insects? Are they really that interesting?"
The spacious cabin had become cramped with terrariums filled with all manner of bugs—ants, scorpions, centipedes, and spiders.
"Alex," the helmsman replied patiently, "even the weakest creatures deserve our attention. We can learn much from them. Look at these ants. What do you see?"
"They're small and weak. They're searching for food, not knowing it's not feeding time yet."
"Hahaha! Spoken like someone who's never truly observed them. Watch closely. Ants are social creatures. They work together constantly, much like people.
"I started with just a queen and ten workers. Now there are over five hundred. Here, they're digging tunnels. Over there, they're storing eggs for new members of their society. That's the queen's nest. Doesn't this remind you of anything?"
"It's like a tiny kingdom," Gray said uncertainly. "But what's so fascinating about that?"
"Exactly—a tiny kingdom. We can watch it grow stronger over time. Isn't that interesting?"
"But they're still weak."
"Weak compared to us. We are higher beings to them—like gods. Just as ants can't comprehend humanity's greatness, humanity cannot fully grasp the greatness of the gods.
"But here's the remarkable thing: a large enough ant colony can threaten even a 'higher being' like you or me. Imagine, Alex—if you learn from them, one day even gods will fear you."
Eagle Eye had no idea how deeply his words struck the boy. He had simply meant to teach Gray not to underestimate the weak. But to Gray, the helmsman's message was a revelation.
Higher beings can be feared. Gods can be feared. If I learn from these ants, even the gods might one day bow their heads. My damaged core won't stop me. If ants can bring down a higher being through sheer numbers, so can I. I'll become strong. Strong enough that no god will dare harm my mother or sister.
Eagle Eye thought Gray had simply been born without a magical core. He had only meant to encourage the boy. He couldn't have known he had just planted a rebellious seed in the child's mind.
Until that day, Gray had accepted that the will of the gods was law. Even Katarina, with all her arrogance and power, never dared dream of revenge against Apollo. He was a god. What could she possibly do?
But now? If a higher being could be threatened, was it really higher at all?
Gray continued speaking as if nothing had changed.
"You're right. This is really interesting. May I watch them with you?"
"Of course," Eagle Eye replied, pleased that he had sparked the boy's curiosity.
"What an interesting thought," Katarina murmured elsewhere on the ship. She was busy watching Grace fleece yet another group of sailors in cards, winning portions of their meals.
So the days slipped by, blending into nights. Weeks passed. The ocean stretched around them like an endless watery desert. No other ships ventured into these waters. No sea monsters pursued them.
The Violet sailed in silence and routine. They had little hope of encountering another vessel. Humans rarely traveled the realms of their natural predators.
The children loved watching the crew work together to manage the ship. It felt like living out one of the bedtime stories their mother had once told them.
But when the wind blew steadily from one direction and the sails were set, there was little to do aboard a ship.
"This is so boring! Nothing ever changes," Grace complained for the hundredth time—this time to Captain Simbad.
"Little one," the captain replied, surprisingly philosophical, "the sea's emptiness is what makes it so captivating. To you, it may look the same every day, but to me, it holds endless mysteries.
"See that red speck in the distance? That's a school of fish. Soon enough, a predator will devour them whole. And that bit of driftwood over there? Who knows what tale it could tell. The open sea feeds the imagination. Its ever-changing face inspires those who know how to look."
"You're a poet, Uncle Captain!" Grace giggled, but she turned her sharp eyes toward the red speck.
Sure enough, a massive creature surfaced—a cross between a whale and a shark. It opened its huge mouth and swallowed the school of fish in one gulp. Then it vanished as swiftly as it had appeared.
"Whoa!" Grace gasped. "Uncle Captain, why don't the sea monsters attack us?"
"Why would they?" Simbad asked in return.
"But the stories always say monsters hunt people."
"Heh. Monsters attack for one reason only—to fill their bellies. Look at our ship. Would you want to bite into wood?
"Most monsters don't care about such tasteless meals. Only rare gourmands would bother attacking a ship for the scraps of food aboard. Of course, if we carried something that attracted them, it would be another matter entirely."
"Let's find something to lure them in so we can fight a sea monster!" Grace declared enthusiastically, as if it were the most natural desire in the world.
"Only if your mother agrees," Simbad replied, breaking into a cold sweat at the girl's unhealthy enthusiasm.
Realizing that wouldn't happen, Grace hung her head in defeat. She understood it was a foolish idea—but it had been worth a try.
"How much longer until we arrive?" she asked, changing the subject.
"About two months. Maybe two and a half. Depends on the wind," the captain replied, already drifting into his own thoughts.