Page 2

I had no idea where we were headed. It was so dark and visibility was nonexistent, so we could crash into a pile of rocks any second. We could crash and sink, drown in the whitecaps.

I pictured my father’s devastated face.

My mother’s tears.

Felt Khazmuda’s sadness.

“We aren’t dying out here!” I had no idea where Captain Hartshire was. Hadn’t heard his voice for hours, so he may have been thrown off the ship. “Hold the masts. She’ll get us out of this.”

I knew the boat hit rocks when I heard the scrape of the hull.

Scraaaaapppppeeee .

The boat dragged over the surface until it came to a stop and didn’t move again, despite the fierce wind that continued to pound us. The rain didn’t let up. The storm that felt more like a hurricane continued.

I knew this was it.

We would sink.

The crew panicked and rushed to the rowboats hooked over the edge of the railings to drop them into the water…as if that would make a difference.

For a ship this size, with the amount of cargo in the hold, we should sink quickly.

But we didn’t move.

While the crew continued to panic and drop the boats into the water, I looked over the railing and peered into the darkness. My eyes strained with the focus, and then I heard the sound.

The sound of trees blowing in the wind.

“We’ve struck land!” I couldn’t see the crew on the other side of the boat, but I heard them approach then felt and smelled them beside me.

There was a break in the clouds, and then the moon was exposed, blanketing us in white light that shone against the bark of the trees and the white sands of the beach.

I saw just a glimpse, but that was all it took.

Dead trees. Bare lands. Emptiness.

But it was a refuge, nonetheless.

“We’ll take shelter in our cabins until the storm passes.” The wind was so strong I could feel my words strike me in the face the moment they left my mouth. The storm was powerful enough that it made the wind as physical as a dragon, made my words fly over the dead island.

We descended deeper into the ship and took refuge in the crew’s quarters, bunk beds secured to the walls so they wouldn’t slide across the floor when the sea was rocky.

Someone lit a lantern, and for the first time, I could actually see my own hands, see the company that had commanded the galleon against the odds.

My eyes went to every face, seeing the exhaustion, fear, and despair.

I sat in an unoccupied chair, feeling my damp clothes sticking to my skin. Now that the imminent fear was gone and the fire of adrenaline had been extinguished, I started to shiver from the cold.

The rain continued to pound the deck above. The wind howled like a pack of wolves that hunted us in the dark. Half of the crew had been lost—including Captain Hartshire. Shipwrecked and off course, we had to sit there and soak in our despair as we waited for the sun to rise once again.

The silence jolted me awake.

It was as loud as the scrape of our hull against the rocks, and I came into consciousness in a panic.

Flashes of the storm passed across my mind, the galleon nearly capsizing, the sight of a hand grabbing one of the masts, the screams from the panicked crew.

I could feel the shards of rain on my face like little daggers.

I sat upright on my bed on the bottom bunk and stared at the door. We were underneath the deck, without windows, just the lantern for light, so I couldn’t determine if it was day or night.

My clothes were dry now, and so was my hair.

The salt from the ocean gave my strands waves and volume.

My skin was still cold to the touch, either from the shock or the breeze.

The rest of the crew was still asleep, exhausted from battling the storm for over a day straight.

The others must have been thrown off and were now buried deep in the sea.

I quietly left the cabin through the hatch and stood on the deck, which was slightly slanted from where we’d landed on the rocks.

It was daytime, but there was no sun, only a sea of fog so heavy that it masked the surroundings.

I looked over the edge to the rocks below and realized the tide was low—so we were stuck there.

There must be damage to the hull below, and being propped on the rocks was what stopped us from sinking. It was good fortune that we’d crashed here because we all would have died if we’d had to combat that storm for much longer. Now, we could repair the ship and ride the tide when it returned.

I moved to the other railing and looked inland, seeing the hazy outline of dead trees with desiccated branches. The details of this strange place were hidden from me, but I could feel its treachery. It seemed abandoned, and if anyone resided here, they were probably unfriendly.

All we had to do was stay quiet, repair the ship, and then leave.

I pulled out the compass my father had given me, an image of a black dragon on the back—Khazmuda, my guardian if something were ever to happen to my mother and father. Most people had human godparents, but my father entrusted my life to no one except the dragon he’d been fused with for fifty years.

I opened the compass and tried to gauge my position.

North was to the left. South was to the right. And east was straight ahead.

Which meant I’d gone west…in the exact direction my father had warned me not to go.

He’d told me there was a dead island in the middle of the sea, the most dangerous place he’d ever set foot in his time as a pirate. It was the one place he’d forbidden me to go, told me to avoid at all costs.

And somehow, I’d ended up there…like it was fate.

Chills crept up my spine and froze my limbs. My heart beat differently, the adrenaline thickening my blood. I knew the sword and could fight a man, but I couldn’t fight someone who even my father feared.

If only we’d sailed south, we could have avoided this…

I felt like a terrified mouse in the grass, knowing the best way to stay hidden was not to move, not to breathe. To go unnoticed by whatever hunted me from the trees. Once the crew was awake, we’d repair the ship and leave at the first chance, even if that meant we had to sail in the dark.

Lily Rothschild.

My boots had been rooted to the deck, but the sound of the voice in my head made me stumble. It came from everywhere all at once, loud the way Khazmuda’s and Zehemoth’s voices were. But I knew the source wasn’t a dragon, not when I couldn’t feel their mind through the mist.

I didn’t know who this was—but I was afraid.

You shouldn’t have come here.