The cabin smelled as if it were filled with all the echoes of the New World. The scent was thick and spicy, with a slightly bitter note that made the throat feel scratchy and at the same time calmed the mind. Bluish smoke hung in the air. It swirled lazily near the low ceiling, clinging to the copper fixtures and slowly settling onto the floor. A small bronze censer was smoldering on the table, and it emitted a resinous, slightly sweet scent, almost honey‑like.

You froze on the threshold, holding the door open with your hand. Then you stepped forward, and the floorboard responded with a familiar creak. Celeste was sitting on the narrow bed, her legs tucked up and her arms around her knees. Her fingers were slightly darker from the herbal dust, as if she had just been kneading something between her palms. Next to her stood a clay cup with a dark broth, and on the edge of the table lay a carved box made of dark wood. Celeste looked up. “Sit down”,- she said quietly, nodding toward the chest by the wall.

You sat down, leaning slightly forward. Celeste opened the box, took out a thin roll of coarse paper that smelled of dried leaves and something tart, like the bark of an old tree. She held it up to a smoldering coal in the censer, and the flame licked the edge for a moment, releasing another wave of smoke—this time with notes of baked apples. “This is from the New World”,- Celeste said quietly, handing over the box.

You took it carefully, turned it over in your fingers, and placed it beside you, not refusing it, but not hurrying either. The cabin was cramped, and that made it seem as if the world outside had grown a little smaller. Behind the bulkhead, you could hear the familiar noise of the ship: the creak of the rigging, the dull thud of a wave hitting the side, and someone’s distant shout.

Celeste took a drag, exhaled a thin stream of smoke, and closed her eyes for a moment—just long enough to feel the warmth spread through her chest and to calm her thoughts, silencing the voices in her head. Then she looked in your direction. “You know”,- she said, a little more quietly, almost to herself. “There’s a belief in the New World: if the smoke from these herbs rises evenly, it means everyone is being honest with you. But if it swirls, it means someone is lying to you. Or maybe they’re just afraid to tell the truth”.

She paused, watching the smoke draw thin spirals in the air. Then she looked up at you again. "Tell me...",- she began, and her voice trembled a little. "Between you, Silent, and Ashriel... what is it? Just a business relationship? Or is there something more that you're afraid to admit, even to yourself?».