She was sitting on the deck near the bow of the elegant ship; her cold, blue gaze fixed on nothingness. The only sound was the waves gently—yet deceptively—caressing the well-traveled wood, along with the warm summer breeze passionately swelling the white sails. There wasn’t a cloud in the night sky, which was as black as tar and filled with stars. Ariadne stood abruptly and moved to the ship's edge, leaning heavily against the railing, searching for the horizon. It was futile. The liquid beast swallowed the edge of the sky, where the two wonders of the world—the sea and the sky—blurred into one. No boundaries, no limits. Nothing remained now but chaos, and within it, millions of dots of consciousness, like the faint lights of the stars, struggling to stay afloat, endlessly battling the storm of the world in search of their unique reality.

A bitter, ironic smile touched her pale lips at that thought. Reality… What a funny word, a funny concept. Above all, a funny hope. The funniest part, though, was that it was Ariadne who was thinking this way. Five years ago, she wouldn’t have doubted that truth was singular and universal. For her, the material world had one form—fixed and unchanging, no matter how one chose to perceive it. That's what she believed. That's what she always stood by. Not anymore.

“Are you planning to stay up here alone forever?”

Iago’s voice caught her off guard. Strangely, she felt a shiver crawl up her spine as he approached slowly from behind. She didn’t turn to look at him, expecting to feel his hand on her neck, his body pressing against hers, his faint lips brushing guiltily against her smooth cheek. But nothing happened. He stood beside her indifferently, leaning heavily on the salty, sea-soaked railing, his gaze locked on his beloved ocean.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” he asked.

“Only when I have something to say.”

“And you want me to believe you don’t?”

His playful tone was still there, and Ariadne couldn’t help but notice. She turned to look at him slowly, with a deep longing in her eyes. Iago was the most charismatic person she had ever met, though often in a way that made you want to hit him. He was always quick-witted, sharp, and… unique. Yes, that was the right word. Iago was a 15th-century pirate, a rude and somewhat rough corsair of the Mediterranean, unchanged even now, as they sailed like strangers through the seas in the early years of the new millennium. He was different from most. He was special. To her, he was much more. He was irreplaceable.

“It’s hard for me. You might not remember, but between the two of us, you’ve always been the storyteller.”

“A storyteller with a mind empty of memories is pretty boring, don’t you think?” he chuckled, then looked straight into her eyes without warning. “You’ve told me we know each other well, so you must know some of the more interesting things that have happened to me. Why don’t you do me a favor and fill in the blanks?”

“I’m not good at telling stories. I never know where to begin.”

“You might be surprised, but a good place to start is the beginning.”

Ariadne couldn’t help but laugh. “You sound like Ijlal.”

“Who’s that?”

“A brother,” she whispered, and immediately cursed herself for letting the words slip. She hurried to correct herself, trying to sum up who Itzlal truly was. “No… not just a brother. He’s a friend. The best I could ask for, and perhaps the only one I have left.”

“I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry,” Iago said, his voice faltering as he noticed the sadness growing in her dark eyes. Ariadne stayed silent for a long while, staring intently at her hands as they fidgeted on the worn wood. The only piece of jewelry she wore—a simple silver ring—caught the light and snapped her out of the strange state she had been sinking into night after night. It was an ordinary ring, plain and unremarkable. A simple band she hadn’t taken off since the Great War. On his hand, an identical ring was hidden among the countless other trinkets that adorned his body. With a sudden motion that Iago didn’t seem to expect, Ariadne slipped the ring off her finger and held it up. She looked through it and saw the moon fill the empty space, warming her thoughts.

“Come with me,” she said suddenly, grabbing his hand with an unexpected force. Iago looked confused but didn’t resist. She led him to sit on the deck, and then she sat cross-legged in front of him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Ariadne held his hand tenderly, swallowing hard before she placed the ring in his cold palm. She pressed his hand shut around it, and only then did she speak again.

“I’ve spent a long time in this world, Iago. There isn’t much left from that journey. This ring is one of the few things that remain. The moment you gave it to me was the moment I realized how important you are to me. I love you. And I don’t know… maybe that’s enough to make me try. You might not remember, but you still feel, and I know you feel more deeply than anyone else. I want you to keep this ring. I want you to take care of it, and if by the end of what I have to say you decide I should have it back, then and only then, give it to me.”

She saw him look at her, stunned at first. Then his sharp eyes narrowed in doubt as they shifted to the silver band hidden in his fist. Still confused, he lifted his right hand in front of his face and quietly studied his own matching ring. Finally, Iago burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Do you want me to be honest?” he asked, gasping as his laughter subsided, still staring at the two rings.

“Always.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and as much as I think about it, there’s no way I would’ve done something like this. Still, your story intrigues me, so I’ll do you the favor.” He tucked the ring into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and smiled widely, crossing his arms in front of him, eager. “Well then, what are you waiting for? I’m listening!”

“Don’t rush,” she said, relieved, as she jumped to her feet. She took a few steps back and leaned against the railing, never taking her eyes off him. “What happened spans lifetimes. But luckily, you’re here again, and the night is still young…”