Sabine trails Renata and Hector through Seville’s outskirts toward the bay, compelled by the recognition that they are like her. She hesitates at the gangplank, expecting the barrier of an uninvited threshold, but feels no resistance and boards, realizing the ship poses no such limit.

In a spacious forward cabin, Sabine studies her unchanged reflection before Hector speaks her name aloud, revealing he can hear her thoughts. Sabine discovers she cannot hear Renata and Hector’s minds; they are unreadable to her. Hector pours a goblet of blood from a decanter and, while Sabine drinks, notes that her maker should have taught her such basics. Sabine admits her maker—the widow who turned her—was gone and taught her nothing.

Hector explains their nature with a practiced litany: those who are called vampires and other names are, to him, “roses grown in the midnight soil,” nourished by life, ageless and refined. He cites the phrase as a lineage of teaching passed down from makers. Sabine is captivated by the imagery and by the idea of belonging to something with history and rules.

When Hector announces it is time to leave Seville, Sabine realizes he means to sail and fears being left behind. She projects her wish to come, which Hector hears, and he invites her along. Renata eagerly promises they can teach Sabine, and Sabine agrees, embracing the unfamiliar plural of “we.”

Back on deck, Sabine admits she knows nothing of ships. Hector says he sailed long ago but that the vessel only became theirs that night. Renata casually reveals they killed the crew and sank the bodies in the shallow bay. As they make ready to depart, Hector offers Sabine an initial lesson: always be found ahead of one’s corpses, never in their wake.