The eye of the Gods stared blinking down on the flotilla of twelve ships pushing its way through the seas. Aboard those vessels, few slept, despite it being the very dead of night. In the hulls and upon decks, most lay silent, unmoving; unwilling to risk a noise lest they wake those who had been granted the gift of rest before battle.
On the lead vessel, Hevne sat in the prow, her knees drawn up supporting her chin, her arms hugging them. She gazed at the eye of the Gods, that one, lone, brightest star and asked for a sign.