At the island's southern point, the water churned, white-capped and restless, the current pulling at the shore with greedy fingers. Toxin watched it uneasily while Fathom readied the gear, their movements sharp with unspoken friction that had festered since dawn. All this under a bright, cloudless sky that seemed to mock their grim purpose. Only Dandy seemed untroubled; she dragged the raft toward the breaking waves as if it weighed nothing at all, humming a...