Page 12

Draevyn

D raevyn sat at his desk, fingers idly tracing the rim of his untouched glass of rum.

The ship swayed gently beneath him, the distant creak of wood and the subtle waves filling the silence of his cabin.

The scattered candles flickered and surged with his every thought, casting shifting shadows across the scattered parchments that cluttered his desk.

His mind, however, wasn’t on the journey ahead or the orders from his king.

It was on Esmi.

He’d done what was necessary. That was what he told himself, anyway.

He couldn’t explain it, but he just knew in every fiber of his soul that she was dangerous.

To start, she was a liar— that he already knew just from her saying she was seeking safe passage and was later found rummaging through his things.

Not to mention how she aimed for him in a tavern full of criminals.

He wasn’t entirely convinced she didn’t know his real name either, before Sam had given it up to try and scare her.

And even that hadn’t worked. Draevyn had become so used to people fearing the Phoenix, that expecting the terrified reaction had become second nature…

Only she hadn’t cowered away.

Had he made the right choice? When he’d looked into her eyes before shutting the cell’s door, there was something else lingering in her stare alongside her defiance.

Fear .

Esmi hadn’t shown fear when she found out she was aboard the Phoenix’s ship, yet she had when he put her in a cage for only a single night. Should he have left her in the cuffs? Were the cuffs and the cell too much together?

Draevyn exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his dark hair. It was too late for doubt, and he couldn’t go back on his word now. Dawn wasn’t far off at this point, and he could release her come sunrise and apologize. He’d spent his entire life making hard decisions, and this was no different.

His father would’ve done worse.

The thought curled bitterly in his stomach.

The king had always been merciless, especially when it came to exploiting Draevyn and his powers.

The second son and unwanted heir. He had spent the majority of his youth drowning beneath expectations he could never meet, forever compared to his shadow-wielding older brother.

Meanwhile, Draevyn had secretly been the stain on the Rowe name, the reckless disappointment, if his father’s cold gaze and brutal words were any indication.

Nothing he said or did had ever been enough to fix the damage he’d caused to his family when he was younger, though the realm would never know that. To an outsider looking in, Draevyn was the ruthless Phoenix—Lephyrin’s protector and executioner.

He found solace in the sea, though. It offered an untamed freedom, far from the iron grip of his father’s throne.

But even aboard The Odyssey , away from the castle’s suffocating halls, the old wounds never truly faded.

The truth was, Draevyn hated himself more than anyone else ever could for what he’d done when he lost control that day nearly twenty years ago.

With a sigh, he reached for the keys in his pocket, running his thumb over their worn edges before carelessly tossing them onto his desk.

A sudden rush of shouting shattered the quiet .

Draevyn’s head snapped up, the bellows of his crew sounding more urgent and panicked.

“SHIP AHEAD!” Sam’s voice echoed.

“They’re closing in fast!” bellowed another.

The heavy boots of his men thundered beyond his office door, the hurried clatter of weapons being drawn following in their wake.

Draevyn was already moving, shoving back from his desk and slamming open the cabin door.

The salty night air rushed in as he strode onto the deck, his eyes scanning the midnight horizon.

The ship was nearly upon them.

It loomed out of the mist like a phantom, its sails catching just enough moonlight to gleam like a blade in the dark.

“Where in the hells did they come from?!” Draevyn barked as he ran up to the quarter deck and took his place at the helm, gripping the wheel.

“They weren’t there a moment ago, Captain!” Sam called out, panting. “It’s like they rose straight from the damn sea! They blend in with the gods-damn night.”

“All gods,” Draevyn whispered, his jaw going slack as his mind raced. He whirled toward Sam. “ The Night Wraith ?” His voice barely hid the panic he desperately tried to shove down.

Sam swallowed. “Gods, I fucking hope not.”

The ship closed the distance between them with impossible speed, as if a false wind had caught its sails. Then they came fully into view as the mist eerily cleared, rushed out by an unseen force.

Draevyn’s blood ran cold at the sight as they ran back down to the main deck.

The Night Wraith rolled up alongside them, close enough now that the crew’s taunting began.

“Best start praying to your god, lads,” a man called out from the deck.

Cruel, raucous laughter echoed across the water. Draevyn’s crew tensed, gripping their weapons, their knuckles white. He unsheathed his sword alongside his men, flames licking up the blade as he raised it high .

His stomach twisted as a figure came into view on their enemy’s deck, the crew parting as the man approached them. Both crews fell silent, the only sounds were the waves rolling beneath their ships and the echo of the man’s heavy steps.

Cyrus Blackwood halted at the ship’s rail, silhouetted against the light of the moon as his long coat whipped in the night breeze.

His long hair and beard were black as the night sky, and his depthless eyes somehow gleamed in the dark.

He didn’t join in with his crew’s taunts, didn’t twirl a sword or pistol in the air like some bloodthirsty criminal.

No, he simply raised a hand and gave a small, lazy wave with his fingers, his mocking grin stretching ear-to-ear.

A high-pitched screech erupted through the air, and Draevyn’s crew all glanced up toward The Night Wraith’s crow’s nest, where an owl swooped down and barrelled toward them, before circling their deck from above.

“You so much as set a single member of my crew on fire, Phoenix, and my beast will drown your men here and now,” Blackwood called, his voice rolling off the wind.

Draevyn clenched his jaw, the veins in his neck straining as he tried to think of a plan that wouldn’t be a death sentence for his crew.

“We need to be smart about this, Drae,” Sam whispered, but Draevyn’s eyes remained locked on Blackwood’s crew and their grins.

He was right. Draevyn fucking loathed that he was right. All of Rymelle had heard the tales of Captain Cyrus Blackwood. He was rumored to be immortal, with a monster roaming the depths that obeyed his every beck and call. Draevyn wasn’t willing to try and call the man’s bluff.

“No mercy, boys!” Blackwood boomed, and a moment later, a roar of cheering sounded.

Out of nowhere, grappling hooks soared through the air from The Night Wraith , latching onto The Odyssey’s railings, splintering its wood.

Fucking Irah.

“Brace yourselves!” Draevyn roared, his blade stretched out.

The pirates’ boots slammed onto the deck, their steel blades flashing in the dim moonlight.

The first blade came at him in a blur, and he barely raised his sword in time to block it.

The shock of the blow rattled up his arm, but he shoved forward, twisting his sword and sending his attacker sprawling.

The fight exploded around him.

With a thunderous roar, his men met the assault head-on. Gunfire cracked through the air. Metal clashed against metal. The Odyssey’s deck transformed into a chaotic battlefield, a maelstrom of flashing steel and desperate brawls, with the suffocating stench of salt, sweat, and blood.

Draevyn ducked beneath the swing of a broad axe and drove his cutlass up into the attacker’s ribs, his flames roaring up the blade and incinerating the man from the inside out before twisting it free just in time to parry another strike.

Around him, his crew fought fiercely, but the pirates were relentless and brutal in their attacks.

Draevyn drove his cutlass through another’s gut, yanking it free just as someone else came at him. He ducked, rolled, came up swinging, but it was endless. For every one he cut down, another took their place.

And through it all, over the chaos, Blackwood still stood at the center of his ship, smiling.