I was one of the first women to sail with Captain Estrael, and I was also one of the few who survived her campaign against Akylios. Scores of fine sailors were lost, their bodies resting somewhere in the dark of the sea. What was more, when it was all said and done and the dragon locked away, my mistress was forced to go to shore and stay ashore.

Life has a cruel sense of humor, and an even crueler sense of justice. She was cursed. No ship of hers could last more than a few moments at sea before the waves themselves battered their planks to slivers. Estrael was forced to give up the only thing she had ever truly loved, sailing on the waves.

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It would be many years before she would return. She lived to a very great age in a cloister by the sea, training young women to fight as she had learned to fight. I stayed on with her, even as the rest of our crew found work aboard other ships, or settled with men who had stolen their sea legs. As the years passed, we learned that more and more of them had come to their ends. We did not weep for them. They had lived great lives, doing their part to save the world from the madness of Akylios.

The only time I saw Estrael truly mourn was when we learned of the passing of her closest of friends, the other four great heroes who faced Akylios directly with her. Asphodel, the Druid, friend of the fae; Rasmolov, the witch hunter, Void Knight of the first order, Acacia, Nightblade of Clan Zardonis; and Nyx, Dominator of weak men. She took Nyx’s passing especially hard. They had forged an unlikely but very strong bond in their voyage.

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When the time came for her final voyage, she packed nothing save a token from each of the four heroes on her ship, the Novia. Many of us made offers to accompany her, but she turned us away. The ship was cursed to sink, and she would go with it. Such is a captain’s duty. Such is the way Estrael had chosen to die.

Her ship had long been sheltered in a harbor that was part of the dwarven city of Hammerknell. She had formed a friendship with their people that had survived the deaths of Rasmolov and Asphodel. A long line of them waited for her on the docks, saluting her as she passed. When she stepped onto the deck of the ship, a deep voice boomed, “Telara will always remember her heroes.” The rest of the assembled men and women exploded into cheering. Estrael looked embarrassed, but a smile still stole across her lips.

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We helped her prepare it for sailing. She was weak, wasting away from a disease she would not recover from. I remember thinking that it looked like a strong sea breeze might blow her away. But she held the lines in a firm grip, and in her eyes was an even firmer determination that it would be done. When it was done, she was let loose into the currents.

I went as fast as my legs could carry me to the hills above Hammerknell, watching her from a crest of the highlands as she traveled north along the coast. Finally, her bow turned, pointing for the open sea.

It was over in only a few minutes. A great wave rose
up from the surface of the ocean. It swallowed the ship, and Estrael with it.

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And that is how Telara lost the last of the heroes who brought an end to the madness of Akylios. My captain, my friend, Estrael.

– Dylianara Trufyl