Page 40

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

DAX

D ax plunged his sword into the Serkos, the blade ripping through flesh. The body crumpled to its knees, and the world burned around him. Flames devoured the ship, licking at splintered wood and shredded sails, casting the deck in shadows straight from hell. Ash choked the air, each breath burning like fire, while the screams of the dying twisted into a macabre symphony with the crackle of the blaze. But Dax heard none of it.

He ripped the sword from the Serkos’s chest, wiping the blade on the man’s back before his body hit the blood-soaked deck. Then, with a sharp, frustrated exhale, he tore his shirt from his body. The fabric clung to him, soaked in blood, sweat, and when it came free, he wiped it across his face, dragging away the blood streaks that clung to his jawline. His chest rose and fell, each strained breath tightening the cut of his muscles.

The glow of the fire danced over the ridges of his abdomen, drawing shadows along the raw, sharp lines that dipped below his hips, glistening with sweat and smeared with blood. His biceps flexed as he twisted the shirt in his hands, the dark coils of a viper tattoo stretching across his chest, the ink now streaked with crimson. The veins in his arms bulged, throbbing with adrenaline. He wiped the blood from his chest, smearing it into the ink of the viper before tossing the shredded remains of his shirt onto the burning deck.

His gaze lifted to the dark, smoke-streaked sky, his eyes closing for a moment as he pulled in a ragged breath. Ash mixed with the iron tang of blood on his tongue, his ribs aching with each inhale.

Thirty-six dead. He had counted. Even in the chaos, he had kept count. Twenty men devoured by the beast, ripped apart and dragged screaming into the abyss. Sixteen were slaughtered in the fight with the Serkos. Thirty-six lives lost, leaving only a dozen survivors. The dead far outnumbered the living.

Dax’s body screamed in protest, but the pain was distant, dulled by the fury coursing through his veins. Blood seeped from the deep slash in his side and the gash on his thigh, staining his torn shirt and pooling at his feet. He had taken two sword blows and had been thrown against the mast three times by the serpent’s tail. Blood and grime streaked his face, but he felt none of it. Pain no longer mattered.

He had counted the dead. He had counted the blows. And he counted every second that passed as his rage simmered and boiled over.

Thirty-six deaths, each one a promise. Each one a debt he would press into her skin, make her scream in every breath she takes.

Every time Dax thought she couldn’t twist the knife any deeper, Irene proved him wrong. She always found a way to make it worse. There was no disappointment anymore, no surprise. He was just furious.

She had borrowed his treachery, and mirrored what he’d done to her.

After all, betrayal is only ever borrowed, never stolen.

He saw their faces—ripped apart, swallowed whole by the Scarlet Serpent—their screams coiling like chains around his soul, ghosts that would haunt him to his dying breath. The Serkos had struck mercilessly. No matter how hard he fought to shake Commander Roderick’s men from their terror, fear had already taken root in their bones. They had frozen. Of course they had. These were men with wives, children, homes waiting for them behind the golden walls of their hive. They had hesitated. And it had cost them everything.

Witches were blessings from the heavens. If not for Keegan, they would have all died. She had risen from the ship’s hold, as the Scarlet Serpent consumed everything in its path. She hadn’t just driven the beast away—she had terrified it. Her scream had split the storm, an unholy wail that made the air itself shatter. With arms raised to the heavens, she called on shadows darker than the night, shadows that bled from the storm itself. Dax had watched, his head pounding as her forbidden incantations spilled from her lips, words never meant for mortal ears. From the blood of dead men, she summoned something unnatural—dark threads that surged from the waves, coiling around the Serpent and dragging it screaming into the abyss.

And then, the Serkos had come.

Dax had hoped that there would be no need for blood. He didn’t want to fight them. He didn’t want to kill them. It was their waters he and his men had violated; their sacred space. But there was only ever one rule: Kill or be killed.

The cruel reality Irene had forced upon him. And so, he did.

Through the choking veil of smoke, Dax caught sight of a soldier in golden armor, sprinting toward him. The young man’s hand stretched out, desperate, but before he could close the distance, an axe struck him down, slicing through his neck. The soldier collapsed mid-run, blood spurting onto the charred deck.

Dax didn’t hesitate. He plunged his sword into the Serkos who had killed the man. The body crumpled, lifeless, joining the chaos of the fallen. Beyond the corpse, Dax’s gaze locked onto Commander Roderick, who stood screaming, fury and grief carved into his face.

Dax moved forward, weaving between burned and dismembered bodies, their faces frozen in terror. Half of his crew lay there, sacrificed by Roderick’s naivety, and by Irene’s madness. His chest heaved, heart pounding too fast, too hard. He warned him not to trust her, but he didn't listen.

When he reached Roderick, the commander’s eyes pleaded, his lips moving as though searching for solace in the carnage. But Dax didn’t stop. His shoulder slammed into Roderick’s with a force that sent the man stumbling back. He didn’t even look at him.

Dax’s thoughts burned with one name: Irene.

She thought she could destroy him, leave him to rot, forgotten and dead? No. Dax was still here—alive, burning with rage, the kind of fury that twisted and consumed. And now, he no longer wanted to simply negotiate or steal the sapphire. No, that would be far too easy. What he wanted was her. Her mind, her body, her soul. He wanted to ruin Irene in the most exquisite, unforgivable way.

He had nothing left—no prince, no map, no ashes. His ship was barely clinging to life, its broken hull threatening to drag them all into the abyss. Dax didn’t have time for Commander Roderick’s tears.

He would find a way to survive. He would bargain with witches, pray to the heavens, or crawl into the hells themselves if it meant vengeance. Because Irene thought she could erase him, erase them, as if their eleven years together were nothing. As if a single cannon shot could sweep away everything they’d built, everything they’d destroyed, everything they’d been. Dax could see her now, perched on her ship with that arrogant gleam in her eyes, surrounded by her new, precious crew. She thought she was better than him, untouchable. She was wrong. Irene belonged to him. He would remind her of every lesson she had learned at his side.

It was with him— only him —that she had first set sail across the seas. It was with him that she learned to wield a blade, to steal, to kill. She was his mirror, his shadow. Her secrets, her sins, he owned them. Just as Irene owned his.

All the pain Irene had left to give, he would be the one to claim it. He wanted to sink his claim into her, to mark her with his scent until it clung to her like a second layer of flesh. He wanted everyone who crossed her path to know that she had burned in his fire. Because no matter how fiercely she fought it, she was his little siren. He wanted to be the heat that filled her lungs, the demon that haunted her nights, stealing her sleep and twisting her dreams into his name. To watch her struggle, torn between hating him and needing him. He wanted her to drown in the same fevered obsession that consumed his every waking thought. And he will, the next time he sees her.

He would gladly light himself on fire, and burn with her, if it meant feeling her fall apart in his arms.

Through the dense fog and drifting shards of ash, Dax’s eyes locked onto Keegan. Still shackled in chains, she crouched over the corpse of a Serkos. Her long nails sank deep into the neck of the fallen warrior. She closed his lifeless eyes with trembling fingers and whispered a prayer.

When she looked up, her gaze met his, heavy with the same regret Dax himself bore. She, too, hadn’t wanted it to end like this—slaughtered bodies scattered, blood staining the waves.

Dax's voice broke in his throat, his lips trembling as he spoke. “I’ll make her pay… I’ll make her regret everything she’s made us do… I’ll—I’ll—” But his voice caught, choking off, strangled by emotion.

He felt tainted. He’d plundered, pillaged, and spilled blood countless times as a pirate, but this… this was filth that wouldn’t wash away.

Keegan growled low in her throat, her voice heavy with despair. “He who tries to do everything, Captain, achieves nothing.”

Keegan’s tone softened, “If you want your revenge, Dax, you’ll have to dance with shadows darker than anything you’ve faced before. You’ll have to strike deals with evil itself. Are you ready for that?”

Dax nodded, his jaw tight. There was no hesitation. Keegan stepped closer. “The prince,” Dax interrupted. “We don’t have him. She’ll never let him go.” Keegan clicked her tongue, an almost amused sound, and tilted her head. “Not the prince, Captain.” Her voice dropped. “A prince.” Dax’s eyes widened, a flicker of confusion breaking through the storm in his mind. Keegan’s words twisted through him, each one sinking deeper.

She leaned closer, her voice wrapping around him like a spell. “Listen to me. When Nehalannia cast the curse, her rage was bound by blood. The blood and spirit of her two lovers—Alastor and Eryx. One, a noble warrior. The other, a prince. Both of royal blood.”

The words hit Dax like thunder. His heart pounded as the weight of her revelation settled over him. Keegan had explained the legends of the sapphire before—the betrayal, the curse—but he had always believed there was only one key, one path to unlocking its power.

But now, her words unraveled everything. Keegan glanced over her shoulder, her dark eyes darting to ensure the commander wasn’t listening. She leaned closer to Dax, her voice cutting through the air like a blade in the dark.

“And when the Usurper, King Ronan, stole the sapphire again to break the first curse and claim it physically, he needed two more souls of royal blood.”

She paused. “He sacrificed the young sister of Queen Alys, just a princess then, lured by his hollow promises of victory during the Eldorian wars."

Dax’s throat tightened. He forced the words past his lips, his voice hoarse. “And the second?”

Keegan’s lips curved into a cruel smile, her voice dropping to a whisper so cold it felt like frost clawing at his skin.

“The child he conceived with Lady Death.”

Keegan didn’t stop. "Though the king was cursed again, suspended between life and death and reliant on the blood of his son to sustain him, that specific curse doesn’t bind the sapphire. For this half that we seek…"

"It doesn’t need the prince. It just needs royal blood. Any royal blood." he said.

Keegan nodded. "Exactly. If she takes the prince… then we’ll take a princess.”

Their eyes locked, the unspoken answer blooming between.

"Tulindor," they said together.

"The king may have stripped the royal titles from the five dynasties, Securing the Eldorian's place above the rest, Keegan continued. But that doesn’t erase their bloodlines. Tulindor is an ancient kingdom. The old, dying king still has a daughter—a princess of age, carrying the blood of her ancestors before the Great War. We just need to take her. Souls are always born in pairs—one light, one shadow."

Dax stepped closer, his shadow towering over Keegan. "Your powers... Can you still use them? The ship’s falling apart. If we’re to sail to Tulindor and then follow the StormBreaker, we’ll need them."

Keegan tilted her head, a smile curling on her lips. Her chains rattled as she stepped forward. “Break my chains,” she murmured. “And I will summon the power of the blood spilled here, the men who died on this deck. Their death will cleanse the ship of its ruin, and it will rise again. A price for a price. We give their bodies to death, and death will rebuild what was lost.”

Dax raised his sword. He was ready to strike the chains, but just as he lifted his weapon, Commander Roderick’s panicked voice cut through.

“No! No! The witch remains chained by order of the king!” Roderick stumbled toward them, his face pale. “Her debt is not yet paid!” Dax paused, his muscles tensing. He glanced back at the commander, considering his words for a brief moment—a heartbeat, no more.

Dax’s sword cut through the chains. A shiver coursed through Keegan’s body as her dark eyes lit up. "Your race, Captain, is not over," Keegan said. "It has just begun." “Gather the bodies of the dead soldiers—pile them high. Those about to die as well. Every drop of blood will serve its purpose. Once the ritual is done, this ship will glide across the waters like new. And as for Princess Tuli…” Her lips curled into a grin that sent a shiver down his spine. “Leave her to me. My shadows will find her.”

Dax turned to Keegan. "We must set course immediately and stop The StormBreaker."

Keegan raised a hand, "Not so fast. The advantage of serving the shadows is that we perceive what those basking in the light cannot. Let them chase the fragments for us. We will follow them, always just out of sight, and they will lead us exactly where we need to go—every time."

She stepped back, her tone turning colder, darker. “Forget about Prince Jace. His fate no longer matters. What matters now is the tuli Princess we must capture and the maps.” She paused, her grin sharpening. “The Sapphire awaits, Captain. Let them think they’re ahead. Let them run.”