They didn't speak as they left the town.
Vale walked with his bag slung over one shoulder, eyes forward, refusing to look back at the street that had decided he no longer belonged to it. Alfred moved a step ahead of him, unhurried, as if the night itself bent slightly to make way.
Only when the last cluster of houses disappeared behind them did Vale slow.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Somewhere this place can't follow," Alfred replied.
The pressure in Vale's chest was still there, but it had changed. It no longer felt like something pressing inward. It felt… alert. Awake.
They followed a narrow road that cut through fields and low hills. The air smelled different out here—cleaner, colder. The sounds of town faded until only wind and insects remained.
Vale's thoughts grew louder.
"My name's ruined," he said suddenly. "Even if I come back innocent, it won't matter."
Alfred nodded. "Names are light. Reputation is heavy."
Vale frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
"It will," Alfred said.
They walked in silence for a while longer.
"Why help me?" Vale asked.
Alfred didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was even. "Because people like you break systems without meaning to."
Vale laughed once, humorless. "I can't even break into a house without getting caught."
"You did last night."
Vale stopped walking.
Alfred turned back. "You succeeded. And the world reacted."
The pressure in Vale's chest pulsed once, almost in agreement.
By dawn, the road curved toward water.
Vale smelled it before he saw it—salt, iron, something vast and restless. The port spread before them, half-awake, ships rocking gently against their moorings. Sailors moved like shadows between crates and ropes.
Vale slowed again.
"I don't like boats," he said.
Alfred glanced at him. "No one does at first."
They stopped near the edge of the dock. Smaller vessels lined the water, some barely more than fishing boats.
Vale stared at them, unease creeping up his spine. The pressure in his chest shifted, not heavier, not lighter—different.
"This feels wrong," he said quietly.
Alfred studied him. "Wrong how?"
"I don't know. Like… the ground doesn't recognize me."
Alfred smiled faintly. "Good. That means you're leaving land."
Before Vale could ask what that meant, a woman's voice cut in.
"You planning to stare all day, or do you need a ride?"
They turned.
She stood beside a narrow wooden boat, hands on her hips, eyes sharp with amusement. Her clothes were practical, worn by travel rather than fashion.
"I'm Anna," she said. "And you two look like trouble."
Alfred met her gaze. "We need transport."
Anna glanced at Vale's bag. "You paying?"
Vale nodded quickly. "Yes."
Anna smirked. "Good. I don't ask questions."
That should have reassured him.
It didn't.
The boat rocked the moment Vale stepped onto it.
His stomach lurched. The pressure in his chest reacted—not painfully, but uneasily, like something testing unfamiliar ground.
He grabbed the side.
"You okay?" Anna asked.
Vale forced a nod. "Fine."
They pushed off.
The port shrank behind them, replaced by open water. Vale stared straight ahead, refusing to look down.
"This is temporary," Alfred said quietly, as if sensing his discomfort. "Just to get us out."
"Out to where?" Vale asked.
Alfred didn't answer.
Anna rowed with practiced ease, humming softly. After a while, she glanced back at them.
"You two running from something?" she asked.
Alfred smiled. "Aren't we all?"
Anna laughed. "Fair enough."
The water stretched endlessly around them. No landmarks. No borders. Just motion.
Vale felt it then.
The pressure in his chest loosened slightly.
Not gone.
But… less constrained.
He frowned, pressing a hand over his ribs.
"What is it?" Alfred asked.
"I don't know," Vale said. "It feels like something stopped watching me."
Alfred's eyes sharpened. "Interesting."
They anchored far from shore.
Anna rested her oars. "This is a busy route. We wait, signal, and someone bigger will pick us up."
Vale swallowed. "Bigger?"
"Yes."
He hesitated. "I'm afraid of small boats."
Anna burst out laughing. "You and everyone else."
Alfred glanced at the horizon. "We won't be here long."
They waited.
Time stretched. The water rocked gently beneath them. Vale tried to steady his breathing.
A distant shape appeared.
A ship.
Large. Dark. Moving steadily toward them.
Anna stood and fired a flare.
Red light bloomed against the sky.
The ship turned.
"They're coming," Alfred said.
Relief and fear tangled in Vale's chest.
As the ship loomed closer, Vale felt something shift again.
The pressure in his chest tightened—not painfully, but sharply, like a warning.
"This is different," he said.
Alfred nodded slowly. "Pay attention to that feeling. It matters."
Ropes dropped. A lifeboat splashed into the water.
Vale climbed, heart pounding, every muscle tense. When he finally reached the deck, the pressure flared once—then settled.
A man with a golden hook where his hand should have been stepped forward.
"Captain DD," he said. "Where are you sailing?"
Alfred answered before Vale could. "Away."
Captain DD smiled. "That's everyone's destination."
Vale exhaled shakily as they were led below deck.
The ship creaked, alive with motion.
For the first time since leaving town, Vale felt something close to calm.
The land was gone.
Whatever owned him there…
no longer could.