Chapter 3 — New Horizons
Elena
Elena Marlowe walked the length of the Neptune’s Grace’s promenade deck, the late morning sunlight glinting off the rippling waves and painting streaks of pale gold onto her freckled skin. She clutched her sketchpad tightly to her chest, her silver bracelet cool against her wrist, the etched initials catching the light with each step. Her thumb brushed the familiar pattern—a habit born of restless moments—her grandmother’s voice echoing softly in her mind: *“Hold onto this, even if the world feels uncertain.”*
Uncertainty had become her shadow. The salty breeze tugged at her auburn hair, teasing it into unruly waves despite her best effort to tame it with a loose ponytail. Her reflection ghosted across the glass panes of the Observation Lounge as she passed, her figure blending with the endless expanse of ocean beyond. She looked every bit the cautious wanderer she felt—someone trying to project confidence while her inner footing faltered.
The ship was a marvel, a self-contained world at sea, yet she had spent her time carefully avoiding its heart. It wasn’t exploration, not really. She lingered on the edges, watching, observing—content to remain in her own orbit, or so she told herself. The truth ran deeper, tangled in her breakup and the ache it left behind. Each step forward felt like brushing against the frayed edges of herself, the parts she wasn’t sure how to piece back together.
Her wandering brought her to the pool deck, where deckhands moved with practiced efficiency, arranging lounge chairs and parasols for the day’s passengers. The infinity pool shimmered under the sun, its edge vanishing seamlessly into the horizon. A cluster of teenagers splashed in the shallow end, their laughter a burst of life that stirred a quiet envy in Elena. They existed without hesitation, claiming their space in the world as though it had always belonged to them. She lingered by the railing, her sketchpad pressed to her side, her fingers absently twisting the bracelet on her wrist. *What would Gran think if she saw me like this?*
The answer didn’t come, but a cheerful voice did.
“Elena!”
She turned, startled, to see Eva Cortez bounding toward her. The younger woman’s dark curls bobbed with each step, her kaleidoscope scrunchie catching the sunlight. Eva’s uniform was impeccably neat, yet she’d added her signature touch—a sunflower pin that matched her effervescent grin. In her hands was a tray of fruit skewers, the vibrant colors incongruous with the crisp white of her uniform.
“I thought I saw you wandering about,” Eva said as she stopped in front of her. “Have you had breakfast yet, or are you one of those artsy types who forgets to eat because they’re too busy being inspired?”
Elena laughed softly, the sound surprising her. “Guilty, I suppose. I’ve been a bit... preoccupied.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m here to save the day.” Eva thrust the tray toward her with exaggerated drama. “Mango? Pineapple? It’s a pick-me-up and practically an order.”
Elena accepted a skewer, the cold fruit a welcome contrast to the warm air. “Thanks. Decisions have been... tricky lately. It’s nice to have someone make one for me.”
Eva tilted her head, studying Elena with playful curiosity. “Tricky, huh? What’s the debate? Gallery? Pool? Or both?”
“Something like that.” Elena gestured vaguely at the bustling deck. “It feels easier to stay on the sidelines, you know?”
Eva raised an eyebrow and, after a dramatic pause, nodded as though arriving at a profound conclusion. “Nope, that’s not allowed. You’re coming with me. I’ll be your tour guide.”
“Tour guide?” Elena echoed, caught between amusement and hesitation.
Eva grinned. “Lower decks. Best-kept secret on the whole ship.”
Elena hesitated, clutching her sketchpad a little tighter. “The lower decks? Aren’t those off-limits to passengers?”
“Technically.” Eva winked, tapping her badge. “But I know people. Trust me, you don’t want to miss Naomi’s workshop. It’ll blow your mind.”
Elena’s fingers brushed the edge of her bracelet, her pulse quickening. The thought of venturing into the unknown—the hidden spaces below—thrilled and unnerved her in equal measure. Eva’s enthusiasm was infectious, but her own uncertainty lingered. She glanced at the pool, her safe option, then back at Eva, who waited with a grin that left little room for refusal. *If I don’t try, I’ll never know.*
“Lead the way,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt.
As they descended into the labyrinth of lower deck corridors, the air cooled, carrying the faint scent of oil and machinery. The hum of the engines grew louder with each step, a steady thrum that seemed to vibrate through the walls. Elena let one hand trail against the cool metal, grounding herself against the unfamiliarity. The utilitarian nature of the space was a stark contrast to the opulence above, but it lacked the pretense. Down here, the ship’s reality was stripped bare, raw and essential.
Naomi Chen was absorbed in her work when they entered the engine room. The petite engineer stood at her workbench, a wrench in hand as she adjusted a component on a massive turbine. The rhythmic hiss and hum of machinery enveloped the space, punctuated by Naomi’s occasional muttered observations. Her multi-tool pendant glinted faintly against her grease-streaked coveralls, catching Elena’s eye before Eva’s voice broke the spell.
“Naomi, we’ve got company!”
Naomi glanced up, her sharp black eyes narrowing briefly before softening. “Ah, the artist,” she said, setting her wrench down. “Eva’s been talking about you.”
“She has?” Elena asked, glancing at Eva, who shrugged with an unapologetic grin.
“Only good things,” Eva said. “Mostly.”
Naomi smirked faintly. “Well, welcome to the guts of the Grace. This is where the magic happens—or at least, where we make sure it doesn’t fall apart.”
Elena stepped closer, her curiosity overtaking her hesitation. “It’s incredible,” she said earnestly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Naomi raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased. “Most passengers don’t. They’d rather sip cocktails and pretend this ship runs on fairy dust.”
“I’d love to sketch it,” Elena said, her fingers itching to pull out her pencil. The interplay of light and shadow across the machinery was mesmerizing, the textures begging to be captured on paper.
“Fine by me,” Naomi said, her tone brisk but not unkind. “Just stay out of the way. Engines’ve been temperamental lately. Nothing serious—yet—but I’d rather not tempt fate.”
Eva saluted dramatically. “We’ll behave, Chief Engineer. Promise.”
As Naomi returned to her work, Elena found a quiet corner to sit and sketch. Her pencil moved instinctively, the lines forming the intricate details of the machinery and the quiet intensity in Naomi’s expression. The act of drawing steadied her, pulling her focus entirely into the present. For the first time since boarding the ship, she felt connected—to the space, to herself, to the moment.
“Looks good,” Eva said, leaning over her shoulder. “Naomi’s going to want that framed.”
Elena laughed softly. “Somehow I doubt she’s the type to decorate with art.”
Naomi, overhearing from her workbench, smirked. “Depends on the art. Practicality has its place, but sometimes it’s good to see things differently.”
“They’re her way of saying she likes it,” Eva whispered conspiratorially.
The hours passed unnoticed, the rhythmic hum of the engines blending with the scratch of Elena’s pencil and the occasional banter from Eva. Naomi’s multi-tool pendant made frequent appearances, her efficient adjustments to the machinery a quiet testament to her skill. The space, for all its industrial chaos, held a strange kind of harmony.
When they finally emerged back into the sunlight, the day felt brighter, sharper, as though Elena’s world had shifted ever so slightly. She turned to Eva, her voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you for showing me this. It was exactly what I needed.”
Eva waved her off with a grin. “Anytime, amiga. But next time? Cocktails by the pool. Balance is key.”
Elena smiled, the words lingering with more weight than they seemed to carry. She watched Eva disappear into the bustling deck before turning toward the gallery. Her sketchpad felt heavier under her arm, not from its weight but from its meaning. The ship no longer felt so vast, its expanse punctuated now by small moments of connection.
Still, Naomi’s words echoed faintly in her mind: *“Nothing serious—yet.”* A flicker of unease stirred, but she pushed it aside. For the first time, hope began to settle in her chest, fragile but present. Maybe this journey would be more than an escape. Maybe, just maybe, it would be the beginning of something new.
