Page 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

IRENE

H ours had passed since the StormBreaker vanished beyond the horizon, leaving the commander and his men to be devoured by the Scarlet Serpent, the Serkos, and their own screams. Hours since Irene had sealed Dax’s fate with her own hand. They had outrun the storm, traded chaos for calm, sailed into the warm waters of the open sea, far from the Serpent islands and the thunder behind them. But the tempest hadn’t left her. A knot tightened in her stomach. She told herself it was nothing. She forced herself to believe it. Or at least, she tried. Standing at the bow of the StormBreaker, she stared at the horizon with a feverish, unyielding intensity. One foot anchored on the edge, one hand gripping the rope, she hung suspended between sky and sea. The sunlight bathed her olive skin in gold, glinting off the water below, turning the ocean into a blinding mirror.

Her eyes, fixed on the endless horizon, searched for a peace that never came. The wind tore at her face, cold and relentless, but she clung to the desperate hope it might carry away the whispers that clawed at her mind. Those insidious voices, twisting through her like shadows, whispered doubts she didn’t want to face. They stirred unspoken fears, brushing against thoughts she dared not name.

"Is he dead?" She repeated the question over and over. "Have I done it? Have I finally killed Dax?"

The thought was a dagger lodged deep in her chest. After everything they had shared, years of rivalry, hatred, fleeting moments of desire, was she the one between them who had finally committed the irredeemable? His face flashed in her mind, vivid and haunting. That last glance. The way his eyes burned with betrayal. Eleven years of chaos between them, ending in a single moment. An ending carved in silence and in one final look.

But if he was gone, why couldn’t she smile? Why did the knot in her stomach tighten instead of loosen? Why did the taste of victory feel so hollow?

Irene shook herself, forcing the thought aside. It was the sapphire. Of course it was. She hadn’t stolen it yet. That was why. When I have the sapphire, she told herself, then I’ll feel it. That rush, that freedom, that happiness. When I finally hold it in my hands, the world will fall into place.

But even as she stared at the horizon, trying to convince herself, Dax’s face lingered. And the silence of the sea felt heavier than it should.

She tightened her grip on the rope, swaying slightly to the ship’s rhythm. "Everything is fine," she whispered. Irene had been repeating those words to herself ever since they escaped. The wind ruffled her hair, and for a fleeting moment, she felt in control again. The sun’s heat mixed with the salty sea breeze, and the StormBreaker sliced through the waves at high speed, spraying cold droplets against her skin. She inhaled deeply, forcing a smile onto her lips. "Everything is fine," she said again, louder this time. But Irene was a very good liar.

Because, in truth, nothing was fine.

It was a disaster, and the angry, panicked voices behind her were proof enough.

"We need to find a port. Fast! Dammit, I can’t fix everything on my own!" Javier’s voice erupted, boots slamming against the deck as he leapt to his feet, his hands still covered in splinters from the mast he’d tried to repair.

"Stop yelling! I’m taking care of the prince—wood splinters scratched him during the attack!" Lan protested, her voice thin with exasperation.

"You should’ve kept him safer when you were both hiding in the hold! We barely escaped, the commander almost had him back!" Blade snapped.

"Watch your tone!" Hezra growled at Blade. "Don’t forget it’s thanks to Lan’s cannon shot in the hold that we managed to slip past the Eldorians!"

"And don’t you hear yourselves?" Zahra cut in, her voice trembling. "What we did was wrong. Horribly wrong. We didn’t even discuss this plan before jumping into it!"

"Wrong or not, it’s done!" Blade snapped, his voice edged with anger. "But maybe we wouldn’t have barely made it out alive if you’d actually told us what the hell your plan was!"

"Alive for now," Javier spat, louder this time, "but this little crew of ours is going to get us all killed. Mark my words. If we were more...if we weren’t so damn outnumbered, maybe we’d stand a chance!"

Irene didn’t turn to them. She didn’t speak.

She exhaled sharply, frustration twitching at her mouth, but her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. The voices crashed around her. Shouts clashing with accusations, guilt tangled with rage.

She closed her eyes. Tried to retreat into the silence at the back of her mind. But the voices caught her—those outside, and the ones inside her own head.

Ignore them, she told herself. Ignore them, and everything will be fine. But this also was a lie. The argument was getting out of control, shattering the fragile balance she had fought to maintain. With a sharp sigh, Irene turned to face the chaos on the bridge. Javier and Blade were face to face screaming at each other. Hezra stood off to the side, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. She watched the chaos unfold like it was some twisted performance. Zahra, however, wasn’t as detached. Her pleas to calm things down only fueled her own spat with Hezra, their raised voices tangling with the others.

A few steps away, Lan stood beside the prince, who was securely tied to the mast. The boy’s wide eyes flicked between the shouting crew, curiosity glinting despite the bruise on his lip. Lan, tending to the boy’s injury with careful hands, opened his mouth to speak, but his attempts were drowned out by the rising chaos. Irene rolled her eyes, exasperation clawing at her. With a sharp inhale, she pushed off from the bow. Her boots struck the deck with a resounding crack, a warning shot that sliced through the noise. Silence.

Every head snapped in her direction. Irene raised her hands, “What the hell is your problem?” she snapped. “Damn it!” It was Zahra who broke the silence first. “No, you! What’s wrong with you?” Zahra screamed.

Before she could continue, Blade suddenly stepped forward, raised a finger toward Irene. “The idea behind a plan is that we all actually know about it!” he snapped, his voice sharp with anger. “You know—so that we don’t all end up dead!”

Irene tilted her head, smirking. “Funny, because you all seem and sound very much alive to me!”

Blade’s hands flew to his hips, disbelief flashing across his face. “Thank you? Thank you? For waking up a bloodthirsty monster and setting it loose when it could’ve eaten us all, without a second thought?”

Irene’s smirk didn’t falter. Her eyes darted left, then right, and she answered, deadpan, “Yes.” She even had the audacity to shrug. “And stop calling him a monster. He has a name. It’s the Scarlet Serpent.”

Blade dragged a hand down his face, exasperated. Then he gestured wildly at the prince, his voice rising. “With Jessalyn, we come up with actual plans! Together! We discuss them!”

“And yet,” Irene shot back, her eyebrow arching in mock innocence, “you carried out my plan.”

Blade’s jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth might crack. “Because I had no choice!”

Irene stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as her voice dropped, sharp as a blade. “Oh, believe me, we always have a choice.”

Javier, leaning casually against the mast, mocked him. “And you chose survival, Blade. “So maybe stop complaining about not being consulted on a split-second decision, that saved us all. Next time, we'll make sure to hold a council for you in the middle of danger."

Blade turned on Javier, pointing at him now. “I’m not talking to you! I’m talking to my captain!”

Javier straightened, crossing his arms with a smug smile. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m the first mate!”

Lan raised his hands, stepping between them like a referee. “Can we just focus on interrogating the prince and moving forward?—”

“No!” Zahra’s voice cut through the argument like a whip. She spun to face them all, her wide eyes blazing with disbelief. “So that’s it? Are none of you upset? Have we really become so numb to the deaths we’ve caused?”

The group fell silent for a moment, Zahra’s words hanging heavy in the salty air. Hezra’s gaze drifted into the distance, her voice low, almost a whisper. “It was their destiny… no one escapes destiny.” Then, in a sudden burst of energy, she clapped her hands and grinned, her eyes gleaming. “Oh! I know—perhaps I could read your hands, your future! That might give us an edge over these evil plans , don’t you think?”

Zahra let out a long, exasperated sigh, her patience fraying. She tilted her head back to the skies as if searching for strength.

Meanwhile, Irene’s gaze shifted to the prince, still bound to the mast, his posture rigid yet composed. She hadn’t had a chance to speak with him, not since the chaos of the negotiations and the assaults. His blue eyes, calm and enigmatic, met hers with a quiet curiosity. There was no fear in them anymore, no contempt just a disarming softness that unsettled her.

He had refused to speak since the start, and she had expected him to wear the lingering shadow of fear. But instead, the prince seemed captivated by the storm around him, by the chaos of her crew. He didn’t cry. He didn’t ask about the Commander or the fate of the Eldorian soldiers. It was as if he lived entirely inside his own head, forced to bury his thoughts and feelings deep where no one could reach them. He sat there instead, silent, compliant, and watching everything with a quiet, unsettling curiosity. Perhaps he wasn’t so different from them, she thought. Perhaps the prince had a taste for chaos too.

He was hostage, and yet it was her who felt bound by the clarity of his gaze, blue as the sapphire she sought so desperately. She would have laughed at the irony if she weren’t standing in the eye of a mutiny.

She promised herself he would talk. Jace would break his silence. And when he did, she would finally have the chance to say what needed to be said. A bitter smile touched Irene’s lips, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the thought before Blade stormed up to her, his eyes blazing. “If you keep plotting behind our backs, you’ll ruin us all.” Irene raised an eyebrow, a defiant smirk curling her lips. “Ruin you?" said Irene, offended.

The tension crackled, the storm of their anger brewing just beneath the surface. Zahra crossed her arms, stepping in with a glare that could pierce through steel. “Ah, so it’s your own skin you’re worried about, Blade? Not the souls we’ve condemned? Selfish.”

Blade spun toward her, his expression sharp as a dagger. “Careful, Zahra. I may have affection for you, but don’t provoke me,” he warned, his voice low and edged with heat. “What did you think this was?” His hand swept over the deck, pointing at each one of them. “Look around! We’re thieves, drunks, convicts... pirates. Not nobles chasing redemption!”

Zahra’s eyes shone with unshed tears, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. Javier, standing beside her, clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Irene noticed the way his shoulders tensed just before he moved.

Javier stepped forward, shoving Blade hard in the chest. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that again,” he growled, his voice trembling with fury.

Blade straightened, his jaw set in a razor-sharp sneer. “And what are you going to do, Javier? Challenge me while you’re half drunk?”

Javier didn’t flinch. Instead, he shoved Blade harder, sending him stumbling back a step. “Maybe I’ll wipe the smile off your precious doll’s face too, just like you did to her,” he spat, casting a daring glance at Hezra and pointing at Zahra.

Irene’s eyes widened in alarm as a grim silence fell over the group. Even the prince flinched, his lashes lowering as if bracing for the inevitable explosion.

Blade didn’t hesitate. With a roar, he lunged at Javier, his fist connecting with his jaw in a bone-crunching punch. Javier staggered, but instead of retreating, he laughed, and spat a trickle of blood onto the deck. A sharp-toothed grin spread across his face.

“So there is something between you and your precious circus doll,” he jeered, his voice taunting. “The fallen knight turned pirate and his broken doll. What a charming little tragedy.”

Blade’s rage burned hotter, his body coiled like a spring ready to strike again. “Touch her, and I’ll gut you right here,” he snarled through gritted teeth, his voice feral. “Enough!” Zahra shouted, her voice trembling with desperation, but Irene stood back, arms crossed, letting the storm rage for a moment longer. She wanted to see them snap, to see them clash and bare their truths.

Hezra stepped between Javier and Blade, her small frame somehow commanding as she jabbed a finger into Javier’s chest. “I have a name, Javier,” she snapped.

The sting of her words brought the tension down. Javier wiped the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand, his pride bruised. “I know, Hezra. I—I’m sorry,” he muttered. He backed away, taking the cloth Lan handed him.

Zahra began pacing in tight, frantic circles, her voice rising, with a nervous chuckle. “People died. Just like that—because of this madness!” She spun to face Irene, then the others, her hands trembling. “It’s the sapphire. It drives everyone who desires it insane.”

“What are she rambling about now?” Blade growled, throwing a confused glance at Irene, but she stayed silent.

The prince frowned, his brow furrowed. Before he could speak, Lan cut in. “She’s not rambling. She’s right.” His voice was quiet but firm. “If you actually listened to the research Zahra’s done about the sapphire, you’d know.”

“We’re doomed!” Zahra burst out, throwing her hands into the air. Her eyes darted around the crew. “The Heavens will curse us for the blood we spilled. Trust me?—”

“That’s enough!” Irene’s voice cracked through the air. She stepped forward, her eyes ablaze, daring anyone to challenge her. “Shut up, all of you. Are you done whining?”

She let the silence settle before closing her eyes and taking a slow, deliberate breath. When she opened them, her gaze locked on Zahra. “Tell me,” she said, her voice soft, “have you ever held gold in your hands?”

Zahra blinked, startled, before looking away. She sighed. “No. Never.”

A faint smile curled Irene’s lips. She turned to the rest of the crew, her voice rising with a fervor that gripped them all.

“It’s the greatest feeling in the world,” she said, savouring each word. “The weight of it in your hands, that rush of adrenaline, the way it makes you feel like nothing is out of reach anymore.”

She let her words linger.

“With enough gold, you can eat like kings. Drink like lords. Travel wherever the hell you want. Buy anything. Become anyone.” Her voice grew darker. “And when we find that sapphire, we’ll use its power and get ourselves mountains of gold. Enough to put the world at our feet. Enough that no realm, no crown, no filthy king can claim it or take it from us.”

Her words hung in the air. She paused, her voice dropping, trembling with emotion.

“But more than that…” Irene pinched her fingers together, showing a tiny sliver of distance. “We might have just this much, this tiny, fleeting chance, to touch what he’s always had.” She jerked her chin toward Jace, her smile twisting into something bitter. “To live like him. Even if only for a moment.”

The weight of her words settled over them, a dream painted in gold and blood. The crew stood frozen, their resentment giving way to a new emotion: temptation. And Irene saw it, saw the spark of longing in their eyes, and she knew she had them. With a sharp flick of her hand, Irene’s tone shifted. “But until then,” she said, “do your job and take us there. Stop mourning Eldorian soldiers who, given the chance, would have killed you without hesitation. Focus. Tell us about this damned legend. And tell us where to find the next fragment of the map.”

Zahra's voice wavered, trembling between conviction and fear. “Yes, but violence isn’t the answer…”

Irene let out a long, exasperated sigh and turned to her slowly, as if dragging the weight of her irritation. Her gaze was cold, cutting. “Being peaceful has never changed history,” Irene said, her voice sharp as a blade. “Violence is the only language a world ruled by monsters truly understands.” She stepped closer. “And to rise above them, we don’t fight their evil with virtue. We fight it with something darker.”

The crew exchanged wary glances, the silence heavy with unspoken unease. The words hung in the air, like the faint tremor of a coming quake. Irene’s gaze burned as she turned back to the horizon. “The sapphire will be stolen, Zahra,” she declared, her voice firm and unrelenting. “If not by me, then by someone far worse.”

Irene turned away. But before she could take another step, Zahra’s voice rang out behind her, soft at first, a haunting melody in the chaos. “The City of Two Suns…”

Irene froze. Slowly, she turned back. “What was that?” Irene asked.

Zahra stepped forward, gathering her courage, her chin raised defiantly. This time, her voice was louder, surer. “The next fragment of the map. It’s in the City of Two Suns.”

Tulindor. A kingdom bathed in golden sunlight, famed for its ochre-stained houses, heavenly blue waters, and timeless beauty.

Hezra clapped her hands with delight, her face lighting up like a child’s. “Oh yes! Oh yes! The markets there are magnificent!”

And then, spinning sharply on her heel, she turned fully to Zahra, her smirk broadening into something that gleamed with false admiration. “Well, enlighten us with your wisdom, little saint,” she drawled.

Zahra hesitated for only a second before lifting the parchment in her hands. Her eyes darted across the group, her fear evident, but there was determination in her stance. For the first time, she seemed ready to reveal the secrets the map had held all along.

Irene sat in her chair, her back straight, her eyes fixed on Zahra, who stood at the head of the cabin table. Around her, the rest of the crew remained seated. Across from Irene, the prince was bound and gagged, his eyes looking for hers. Javier paced the room, his fingers brushing over every object like a distracted child. Zahra hesitated, her voice trembling as if her words were searing her throat. When she finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “This isn’t just a treasure hunt.” Her gaze flitted around the room. “Everything Jessalyn told us… it was only a glimpse. A distorted reflection of the truth.”

She exhaled. “It’s not the sapphire that’s cursed. It’s us. The curse has always been ours to bear.”

The weight of her words pressed against everyone, even the prince straightened in his chair, captivated by them. Blade frowned, raising a hand to steady her. “Slow down,” he said. “Start from the beginning, so we can understand.”

Javier scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the wall. “Oh, we’ve heard the story before, haven’t we?” His voice was laced with sarcasm, his gestures mocking. “Two idiots fall in love with a crying goddess, they kill each other, she cries, and—poof! A sapphire appears.” He threw his hands up dramatically, his grin faltering in the heavy silence. No one laughed.

Irene’s eyes snapped toward him, her tone sharp as a whip. “Shut up and let her talk.”

Javier shrugged, biting back whatever retort was on the tip of his tongue.

Zahra drew in a deep breath. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice gaining strength despite the weight of the truth she carried. “The sapphire wasn’t born only from love or grief. It’s a reflection of humanity’s rot. Humans are the ones who carry the curse.”

Silence blanketed the room, broken only by the creak of the ship and the low whistle of wind through the cabin window. Irene gripped the edge of the table, her jaw tight. “Keep talking,” she said. Zahra nodded and continued, clutching the parchment with her translation in trembling hands. She raised it to her eyes and read aloud:

"At the dawn of the First Age, when gods walked among mortals, time was but a whisper, and the stars still sang of creation. The heavens cried for a betrayal born of love and ambition. Two souls sought the heart of Nehalennia, goddess of the seas and guide to the lost: Eryx, a prince whose conquests stained the tides with blood, and Alastor, a noble warrior whose devotion burned brighter than the sun."

She took a deep breath, letting the words settle into the silence before continuing: "Bound by their love for Nehalennia, Alastor was granted her favour: a sword forged from the heart of the heavens, born of sea tempests’ wrath, light as a whisper yet deadlier than any mortal steel. To Eryx, this was no blessing but an insult to his devotion to the goddess, a wound to his pride that twisted into hatred. What had begun as a shared love turned into poison and fury. Pride descended into rage, and devotion unraveled into war. Their peoples and lands, once bound together by the seas and Nehalannia's light, turned against one another, each taking up arms to defend the honor of their chosen champion."

She paused and looked at the tense faces around the table. Even Javier had lost his usual smirk. Zahra’s voice became more haunting as she went on: "Upon the sacred shore of Nehalannia's hidden island, her throne cradled by the endless sea, the two men met in a brutal duel. Their battle raged from dawn until dusk, their cries tearing through the night like thunder. Nehalannia begged her godly siblings to intervene, but they mocked her and forbade her, chaining her to her throne within the mountain. As Eryx and Alastor fought, their people clashed as well, until the soil beneath them was soaked entirely in blood. At last, the two men struck each other down, their hatred burning so fiercely that even death could not tear them apart. Their bodies fell side by side. By the time Nehalennia defied the gods, broke free from her mountain, and arrived at the shore, she found her lovers lifeless upon the sand. They had left her alone."

"Betrayed by those she had loved, Nehalannia fled back to her mountain, seeking refuge from the warring peoples. There, she cried tears of rage. From her grief and fury, she took her heart out and forged a divine Sapphire—a stone of unearthly beauty, as cold and unyielding as her sorrow. Into it, she sealed the essence of wrath and all her power. When she heard the angry cries of Eryx and Alastor’s people calling for her, blaming her, her love for humanity turned into disgust. The one goddess, the only Ancient who had sincerely loved and protected humans, now saw their true nature. And so, in a final act of vengeance, she wove into the Sapphire a curse of unending cruelty."

A shiver ran through Irene, and she wasn’t alone. The table was silent. Each face was tense, breaths caught in collective disbelief. Zahra looked up, her gaze locking with theirs, her voice softer now.

"There is more..." she said, her tone almost reverent. "These fragments we seek—they are not merely relics of old words or a forgotten treasure. They carry an ancient story of despair, one that mirrors Nehalennia’s tragedy."

"A prophecy?" Hezra asked, her curiosity gleaming.

"Not quite," Zahra replied. "From what I understand, it’s more of an unyielding cycle—a curse. In every age, souls like Eryx and Alastor, consumed by insatiable desire, have become entangled, blinded by the illusion of claiming the goddess’s heart. And each time, they’ve descended into the abyss of their own madness, swept away by an endless storm, cursed to repeat their fall through the ages."

Irene’s chest tightened—far more than she would have liked.

Zahra’s words hung in the air like icy breath. “Cursed souls, in every age…” Irene repeated in her mind, her gaze hardening.

That day, in the dim cabin of the StormBreaker, seven spirits crowded around the table. Their breaths were shallow, suspended; their expressions etched with the gravity of what they had just heard. Seven pairs of eyes, clouded with dread, sought to grasp the truth. Seven minds searched for answers and clarity. And yet, none of them had understood what Irene just had.

The thought had struck like a judgment passed from the heavens. And yet…

And yet… to everyone’s misfortune, she chose to keep it to herself, burying it in the darkest corners of her soul and letting it rot in silence. For that deadly truth she refused to face would one day return, unmerciful, to strike each of them down.

Zahra leaned closer to the parchment. “…The ones they call the Silent Observers, the Tuli erudites, recorded these ages of despair. They passed the tale forward through time, preserving the tragedy to protect the sapphire. They watched through every age, waiting for the cursed souls who would rise again in search of the goddess’s gem. In no age has it been found. Not since the tragedy of Eryx and Alastor… not until our age, our time.”

Javier muttered under his breath, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "I felt a chill run down my spine."

But Zahra continued, "This is where the tale twists into something... stranger," she murmured. "As I translated it, it felt as though a voice whispered to me, as if one of these cursed souls was telling me their story—specifically, the one they call Lady Death. And the one bound to her..."

Her voice faltered. “…The Usurper.”

Zahra turned to Jace, her eyes heavy with sorrow, an unspoken apology lingering in her gaze, as her next words dropped into the silence. “Your father.”

A heavy silence filled the cabin, thick and suffocating. Jace closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Irene felt a cold shiver course down her spine. She turned to the prince, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

“And you dare refuse to speak? Pretend you knew nothing?” Her voice cut through the silence like a blade. “At least you know his real name now. So tell me, do you still want to protect your father?”

Jace’s eyes glimmered with tears. Zahra hesitated, but her voice carried on. "Lady Death speaks to us through these writings, explaining how she met a man with a burning ambition to become king of the world. She said their souls recognized each other, as if they were destined to meet, as if they had already known each other in another life. They shared the same dreams, the same fire—they wanted to conquer the lands and seas together. But as time passed, nothing was ever enough for Ronan. He wanted more, always more. Everything, to become king." Zahra paused.

"She then says, I gutted myself, poured out my blood, and the man I loved still called me selfish. I screamed until I lost my voice. I cried until my tears ran dry. The Usurper sacrificed my flesh and blood, and I suffered until my heart turned to stone. Through desolation, I found strength. Through agony, I became death. And I swore my soul to bring ruin to Ronan."

Zahra gently laid the parchment down, her voice tightening into a strained whisper. “It also describes in gruesome detail how King Ronan wielded the sapphire’s power to win the Great War—a war that saw the five kingdoms of Fennor, Tulindor, Alderath, Shen Feng, and Elevanshkee pitted against the Eldorian invaders. The Eldorians, fleeing their ruined continent, sought to conquer everything in their path. Ronan allied with them, promising victory in exchange for the crown. And he delivered. King Ronan… was the first to fully claim the sapphire. With it, he annihilated entire peoples and razed lands to ash. He summoned monsters from the deepest abysses and the farthest reaches of the known world to fight in his name.”

She paused, her breath unsteady before continuing, “But he was cursed, too. A curse so dark that even Lady Death herself refused to reveal its nature.”

Javier raised a finger, his expression twisted with unease. “Maybe we could stop saying her name out loud? I’ve got this terrible feeling that if we call her too often, she might actually answer.”

Hezra’s glassy eyes remained fixed on some invisible point. “So… Lady Death was the one who shattered the sapphire? She destroyed it to stop the king?”

Zahra nodded gravely. “Yes. She broke the sapphire in two to slow him, scattering its fragments. But before she disappeared, she sought refuge with the Tuli erudites. She helped them complete this story, then stole the map they’d made and scattered into fragments it to ensure no one could ever reunite the sapphire’s power.”

“We are walking in her footsteps… tracing her path.” Irene glanced at Jace, perceiving in him a glimmer of pain—a flickering flame that cast doubt upon everything he thought he knew. He was not just the son of King Ronan; he was the heir to a curse far beyond his control, a history that had claimed countless lives long before his own.

Zahra drew a deep breath. Her voice softened as she began to read aloud the words left by Lady Death:

"As my path intertwined with that of the Usurper, we found fleeting refuge within the ochre walls of the City of Two Suns. For two days and two nights, we wandered beneath the relentless light, following in the footsteps of the dead who carried the legend of the sapphire in their bones. Within the temple of shadows, we seized the writings of the ancients—sacred words, abandoned to dust and silence for centuries."

Irene leaned forward, her gaze locked on Zahra, drinking in every syllable with unwavering intensity. Zahra continued, her voice trembling like a whisper from a forgotten age:

"When all that I had built lay in ruin, the scholars sheltered me, offering their scrolls to hold the ashes of my past. When the time came to flee, to vanish from their sight, I sealed the first fragment in stone and silence. With my heart hardened as rock, I returned to where my journey with the Usurper had begun—the City of Two Suns—and there, I buried it where even the greediest hands could not reach it."

Zahra’s gaze lifted, meeting Irene’s, her voice curling into a haunting whisper:

"I left it where men dare not tread, where water has slumbered for centuries, and where even time itself hesitates to enter. Beneath the drowned vaults, a sanctuary of silence awaits. To enter, you must be submerged. Lift the stones, and you will find what I have hidden."

Irene straightened and rose, her thoughts already racing ahead. Zahra inhaled deeply, unrolling a map of Tulindor across the table. “There are flooded and sealed catacombs in Tulindor. Forgotten passages, known to few… But I know exactly how to find them.”

Irene, who had been staring unblinkingly at Jace, raised a hand to cut Zahra off. Her tone was sharp. “That’s all well and good. Javier, prepare the ship to set sail for Tulindor. But the key?” She turned her piercing gaze to Jace, a flicker of skepticism and defiance glinting in her eyes. “The key to the sapphire. At no point did you explain how it works. We know the prince is the key, but how?”

Zahra hesitated, fumbling for words before finally stammering, “Well… there are no clear instructions. Only a cryptic phrase.” She swallowed hard before reciting in a low, almost incantatory tone: “The key knows how to open, as water knows how to quench thirst… what must be revealed needs no explanation.”

“My head hurts,” Blade muttered.

Irene narrowed her eyes, the strange phrase swirling in her thoughts, defying all logic.

Blade sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Before we go any further, untie the prince. We can’t keep dragging him around like this. The key to the sapphire is sitting right here, helpless.” He jabbed a finger in Jace’s direction.

Irene turned her intense gaze to Lan. “Untie his royal highness,” she commanded.

Lan nodded, stepping forward to loosen the ropes binding Jace. Freed, the prince gasped for air, his limbs trembling from numbness.

Irene circled the table slowly, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence of the cabin. When she reached Jace, she placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Do you remember when I told you that you were just a hostage?” Her voice was soft, but her predatory smile carried an unsettling edge.

Jace closed his eyes briefly, his jaw clenching as a faint tremor passed through him. “Yes,” he replied, hesitant.

“Perfect!” Irene’s grin widened, her tone turning mockingly jubilant. “Well, I have some very exciting news for you: congratulations, you’ve been promoted! From now on, you’re officially a pirate. Welcome to the crew, savvy?”

Lan whispered, exasperation dripping from his tone, “There are six of us, Irene. We’re not even a real crew.”

Hezra, on the other hand, burst into laughter, clapping her hands as she jumped up and down. “Oh, this is so exciting! A prince as a pirate!”

Irene turned back to Jace, her gaze cold and unwavering, a cruel smile curling on her lips. “And as a pirate under my command, you will obey your captain.” She stepped closer, her words slicing through the air. “Now listen carefully, I order you to tell us what you know about the sapphire. You’re going to tell me you spent your whole life strolling through royal gardens like some clueless fool, never wondering what your lunatic father was up to? Never suspecting a thing? Stop protecting him.”

Jace groaned, his muscles tensing as he flexed his wrists, now free of their bindings. Irene’s eyes widened. Her little highness had never looked so unroyal—so rugged and raw—until this moment.

He paused, his piercing gaze locking onto hers, a spark of something dangerous flickering in his eyes. Irene shifted where she stood, her smirk faltering.

Slowly, he began to approach her, each step deliberate, massaging his wrists as he rolled up his sleeves. When he was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, he leaned in, his voice low and rasping against her ear. “Captain, I am a man of honour, but I do not permit you to insult me.”

Irene’s brows shot up, a flicker of amusement curling her lips. “Oh, really? And what exactly are you going to do, my prince?”

A charged silence hung between them, the air heavy with defiance and something unspoken. The others faded into the background as the tension between them took on a life of its own.

Jace stepped closer, his tone like a warning. “I may be a man of honour. Do not tempt me.”

Irene tilted her head, eyes glinting with challenge. “You’re bluffing. There is nothing you can do to me that could even come close to threatening me.” She leaned in, her words cutting like blades. “So, tell me how you’re the key to the sapphire—or I will torture you.”

Jace’s eyes swept over Irene, lingering on her face and traveling slowly down her frame, as if weighing every word he was about to say. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and defiance, the weariness of captivity battling the frustration of her schemes and the lies of his father.

“Know this, Captain,” he whispered, his voice low and deliberate, leaning in just close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath, “there are many forms of torture. Some are so... pleasurable, they cut deeper than violence. We nobles, you see, are well-versed in such things.”

Irene’s lips parted to retort, but Jace didn’t give her the chance. He stepped back suddenly, the ghost of a smirk fading from his face as he turned his attention to the others. They stared at the pair with wide eyes, caught in the thick tension that had filled the room.

Raising his voice, he declared, “I know nothing. Nothing about this sapphire. Perhaps next time, you should conduct your criminal research more thoroughly if you’re relying on your prisoner to guide you.”

His voice softened, bitterness lacing his words as he added, “And as for my father... I am not defending him. I’m ashamed of him.”

Without waiting for a reply, Jace moved to the corner of the cabin, his shoulders heavy with defeat. He leaned against the wall, his gaze distant and unfocused, lost somewhere Irene couldn’t follow.

Irene shook her head and let out a bitter laugh before turning sharply to Blade. “He’s right... all of this,” she began, her voice cutting through the room like a blade, “all of this is your fault. Yours and Jessalyn’s.”

Blade’s frown deepened, his gaze hardening as he straightened his shoulders. “I beg your pardon? How dare you speak of her like that?” he retorted, his voice sharp with offense.

“You may hold the title of captain, Irene, but Jessalyn’s the one who plotted our course,” Blade added, his tone unwavering. “This is her plan, and she’s been scheming it for decades.”

Javier scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Decades, and she still doesn’t know how to use the key?” he said, rolling his eyes. “Please.”

Irene stepped forward, her voice sharp with anger. “Oh yeah? Because if I recall correctly, I was the one who saved all of you. Not Jessalyn. Without me, you’d all be dead or rotting in some dungeon!”

Lan threw his hands up in exasperation. “Maybe the key is mentioned in the next fragments…”

Irene’s glare shifted to Zahra, cutting through the room like a knife. “Or maybe our dear little saint here mistranslated something and missed the crucial piece of information.”

Javier interjected, his tone heated, “Don’t you dare underestimate her! She’s done more than all of us combined!”

The tension thickened as the crew turned on one another, voices rising in accusations and reproaches.

Blade’s voice cut through the chaos, laced with biting frustration. “Irene’s still right. We need to figure out how he’s the key! I don’t know how many ways I need to explain this to you, but here it is: even if every map fragment was handed to us on a golden platter, the seas parted like we were divine, and the stars themselves lined up to guide us, it wouldn’t matter if we don’t know how to use the prince."

Lan crossed his arms, shaking his head. “What I don’t understand is how the son of a king—a man whose deeds scarred the world so deeply that legends are still told about him—can claim to know nothing about this sapphire. Not even a whisper?”

Zahra raised her hands, her voice cutting through the escalating argument. “Enough! Be quiet, all of you! Let me ask him something first.”

The room fell silent, and everyone turned to face Jace. But he wasn’t there.

Irene’s heart skipped a beat as she scanned the cabin, her breath catching in her throat. “No,” she whispered.

Lan’s eyes widened in disbelief as he looked around the room. “He… he was here a moment ago.”

Panic clawed its way into Irene’s chest. “Damn…” Javier muttered with a nervous laugh. “Just when I thought we’d seen it all!”

Irene snapped her head toward him, her eyes blazing. “Shut up! Look for him!”

She stormed out of the cabin, her heart beating fast. The wind slapped her face as she hit the deck, Hezra’s frantic voice slicing through the chaos. “He jumped! He’s drowning!” Hezra’s trembling hand pointed over the edge. Irene’s blood turned to ice. She sprinted to the rail, gripping it hard. Below, she saw him. Jace. Sinking.

His silhouette twisted in the water, arms flailing weakly, the weight of the sea pulling him under. His cries echoed in her chest. The crew stood frozen, useless. Irene’s gaze cut through them like a blade. “Idiots,” she hissed under her breath.

She shrugged off her long blue coat and hurled it at Javier, ripping her pistol from her belt and shoving it into his chest. “Hold this,” she snapped, her words sharp as steel. Her sword followed, thrust into his hands.

Then, without a second thought, she jumped over the rail and plunged into the waves.

The water wrapped around her like an old, dangerous friend. Warm, but suffocating. She kicked hard, the adrenaline igniting every muscle as she surged downward.

“He won’t die,” she thought fiercely, her lungs burning. “He won't die. Not today.”

Through the swirling depths, she saw him—his body limp. Her chest tightened as she swam harder, faster, slicing through the water.

Her arm hooked around his waist, pulling his heavy body against hers. She kicked furiously, dragging them both to the surface.

When they broke through, the air was hot and thick, their breaths colliding in a desperate rhythm. He thrashed in her grip, his panic threatening to pull them both under, his breath ragged and shallow.

“Stop fighting me!” she shouted, her voice hoarse and raw. Her arm tightened around him as their faces nearly touched, her eyes burning into his.

“Breathe, Jace!” she growled, her words both a command and a plea. Jace thrashed against the water relentlessly, his movements wild and panicked. Irene’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and trembling with fear. “What the hell, Jace? You hear your father’s a tyrant who terrorized the world, and your first solution is to drown yourself?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes were shut tight, his body sinking deeper as though he was trying to escape her completely. Irene surged forward, her arms stretching through the waves, her fingers gripping his waist. The firmness of his lean, muscular frame under her grip sent a jolt through her, but before she could pull him closer, he shoved her hand away.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” she thought angrily, her chest burning from exertion.

Jace gasped, water pouring into his mouth as he choked out words between frantic breaths. “I—I’m a man of honour... do not touch me,” he stammered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Irene’s patience snapped. If he said "man of honor" one more time, she was going to lose it. “And I am no lady, I'm a pirate, so come here!” she hissed, her voice rough and trembling. With a sharp kick, she closed the distance between them, grabbing his arm and pulling him against her with a force that left no room for resistance. Their bodies collided, his back pressing firmly against her chest as her arms locked around him.

“Jace!” she cried, her voice low and desperate, barely carrying over the crashing waves. She pressed closer, her lips brushing near his ear as she whispered urgently, “Open your eyes… listen to me…”

But his body remained stiff, his face frozen in a mask of terror. Irene felt the icy grip of panic rise within her. If he kept fighting her, she wouldn’t have the strength to get them both back to the ship. They would drown together, swallowed by the sea.

Taking a steadying breath, she softened her tone, drawing her lips closer to his ear, their faces so near she could taste the salty sea water between them. Her hair clung to her face, mixing with his damp blond strands.

“Jace…” she whispered again, her voice trembling with both urgency and tenderness. “Do you remember what you told me? About how you love feeling the wind on your skin… like you’re flying?”

Her words seemed to reach something deep within him. The tension in his body softened.

“Floating is like flying,” she murmured, her voice soothing, almost hypnotic. “Let the water carry you… just trust it. Trust me.”

A shudder rippled through him, his erratic movements slowing as her words seeped into him. Their breaths mingled, his back pressed firmly to her chest. Irene raised a hand to his cheek, her fingertips brushing his wet skin as if trying to anchor him to her. Her voice softened into a near caress, both a plea and a command.

“Stay with me, Jace. Open your eyes,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

For the first time, his head turned toward her, his lashes fluttering open to meet her gaze. In that moment, the storm within him seemed to still, the chaos giving way to a fragile, fleeting calm. Jace’s gaze locked with hers, a fragile, desperate glint in his eyes. A strange, painful heat filled Irene as she felt his vulnerability. She pulled him tighter against her, kicking her legs faster and harder to pull them back toward the ship.

A sharp pain gnawed at her stomach, burning. Guilt. What kind of monster had she become? She had lashed out at Jace, accusing him and calling him an idiot until he jumped into the sea. She had condemned Dax to death with a single word… A bitter weight settled in her chest, one she struggled to ignore. Dax’s face appeared in her mind, laced with silent reproaches. Desperately, she pushed him out of her thoughts and swam.

Above them, on the deck of the StormBreaker, she saw the tense faces of Blade and Javier leaning over the railing. Javier climbed down the iron steps anchored to the hull of the ship and took Jace in his arms. Blade helped Javier hoist the prince onto the ship.

Irene, panting, climbed up and gripped the railing, her arms still shaking from the effort. She collapsed onto the planks, her lungs burning, water streaming from her clothes.

She looked up at Jace, lying before her, his chest rising with difficulty. He struggled to catch his breath, his gaze lost between consciousness and exhaustion. Irene felt something inside her waver.

She couldn’t tell if it was the glare of the sun or a hallucination. But in that brief moment, she thought she saw a tear roll down Jace’s cheek—a single tear, sparkling like liquid gold. Real gold.

Irene held her breath. She could have sworn the tear was gold. And if this fallen prince really did cry tears of gold, she made a promise to herself: she would find a way to collect them.