The journey to the Deep Fleet's territory took four days.
Nathan and his party traveled across floating bridges and stone paths, guided by a Vine Council scout named Briar. The landscape changed slowly—the forested islands gave way to rocky spires and deep chasms. Then the water came. Not an ocean, but a floating sea—a massive body of green-tinged water that hung in the void like a suspended wave. Ships sailed across its surface, their hulls dark and sleek. Flags bearing the Deep Fleet's sigil—a serpent coiled around an anchor—fluttered from their masts.
"The Deep Fleet controls the floating seas," Briar said. "They're raiders. Privateers. They don't trust anyone who walks on solid ground."
"Then we'll convince them," Nathan said.
They boarded a small boat at the water's edge—an old ferry that looked like it had seen better days. Briar negotiated with the ferryman, who eyed the party with open suspicion but accepted a handful of Tidecaller shells as payment.
