Excerpt from “Fractures” (Tapas, WEBTOON)

“I saw some ships on the horizon, coming in with the storm.”

“Off-islanders?”

“Looks like it. And the only place they use boats like that are past the Spires.”

Wynona glanced up from the net in her hands, watching the women as they moved like ants along the dock, hauling wet clay from the cliffs to their wheelbarrows, their skin smeared orange. Their gossiping was as constant as the tumble of the waves, and though it was often boring, once in a while they betrayed some useful piece of information: who was in the market for a unique gift, where a boat had gone down, what strange thing someone saw stuck in the rocks while they were fishing.

Off-islanders, though. That was interesting.

Excerpt from “???”

“You said there’d be land nearby!”

“I know—it’s out here somewhere—”

Wynona pulled hard on the wheel. Her stomach twisted weightlessly inside of her against the shock of falling, as their ship glided down a wave’s slope. “Suna?”

Suna glared—as much as one could glare with salt water spitting in their face—hands fanned over their sopped map. “I’m trying!” They turned back to their charts, studying frantically. “If you think you can see anything in this mess, then be my guest.”

The night was a never ending storm. All that Wynona could see was the black tumble of waves as they rose and crashed against her lifeboat—an ancient, wooden, nearly-featureless vessel she had affectionately nicknamed ‘Boaty’—angry froths of salt water catching in its blue lights.

“We’re on course towards land. A lighthouse,” Suna shouted.