Page 48

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

IRENE

T he Stormbreaker sailed blind through the fog, swallowed whole by a silence that clung to the ship like a curse. No moon, no stars, only the heavy stillness of a place long forsaken.

The Ocean of Sinners. That was how it was marked on maps, but no one on board dared speak the name aloud. Some names were prayers. Others were condemnations. Irene had expected to hear cries, wails, screams of the damned. But the ocean was quiet. Terrifyingly quiet. Maybe that was the true face of hell. No fire. No torment. Just silence. A place where sinners were left alone with their thoughts, forced to suffer in the company of their own ghosts.

For days, they drifted through a veiled world, no horizon, no sky. Just the crash of waves against the hull, the creak of masts under tension, and the distant rumble of something unseen. At times, even the water went still like the ocean itself was holding its breath.

Irene knew Dax was close. She could feel him, like a phantom in the mist. But it didn’t matter. The fog erased everything, even time. It was only day and night , night and day , fading into one like a fever dream.

No one spoke. No one sang. Even nervous laughter, the kind that usually filled the ship had vanished. They all knew what lay ahead.

The crew of the Stormbreaker knew their souls were at stake. The fog wasn’t blinding them nearly as much as their own doubts.

Their enemies aboard the Cordelia would be waiting for them. That much was certain. But between the two ships, only one thing would determine who left the cursed island alive—the depths of their ambition and their desperation. Irene stood behind the helm, her grip tight, eyes locked on the fog ahead. It curled around the ship, swallowing everything beyond the rails.

Below, on the deck, Zahra knelt. Her hands were outstretched, palms open to the sky, her face lifted. Her lips moved, whispering prayers.

Javier approached her, his voice low, almost hesitant. "What are you doing, little saint?" A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Praying for our souls?"

Zahra slowly opened her eyes, but she didn’t look at him.

"Not yet," she murmured.

The words hung between them, heavy as the mist. Irene turned slightly, watching them with the corner of her eye.

Zahra’s voice was steady, solemn. "I’m praying for forgiveness. For what we’ve done. Before the heavens split open and cast their wrath upon us."

Javier stood still, his faint smile faltering. "Well... if there's any mercy left in this world, hopefully it finds us." Three more days passed. Three days of silence stretched taut as a noose. The rain never ceased, drumming against the deck in an unrelenting rhythm. The only sounds were the snap of ropes, the murmur of sailors, and Zahra’s prayers—whispered, growing, echoing in the damp air.

And then, on the morning of the fourth day, everything changed.

The fog lifted.

A blinding white light pierced the sky—so golden, so radiant it felt divine. A rainbow arched across the horizon, stretching from the ship to an unseen world beyond.

No one moved. No one breathed. It was as if breaking the moment might anger the gods themselves. The dawn bled through the gray clouds, spilling molten gold across the ocean. Sunlight shimmered over the waves, setting the water alight with an otherworldly glow.

And then?—

“LAND!”

Lan’s voice cut through the stillness like a blade. Every head snapped toward the horizon. The crew rushed to the rails, bodies colliding in their urgency. A heartbeat later, the cry erupted again, echoing across the ship.

"LAND!"

A shiver ran down Irene’s spine. Her hands trembled against the wheel. Her entire body thrummed with energy, humming with a million tiny sparks. Before them, bathed in the dawn’s golden fire, loomed the island of Nehalennia.

For now, it was only a shadow—a titan carved against eternity. But as they neared, jagged peaks and towering cliffs emerged from the mist, rising like ancient sentinels.

Murmurs rippled through the Stormbreaker. Prayers. Curses. Awed whispers.

Irene said nothing. She didn’t need to.

She forced herself to loosen her grip on the wheel, but her eyes never left the island. Her heart pounded, a wild, erratic drum. A wave of nostalgia crashed over her. She should have been standing here, celebrating with Egobor and Edwina. She wanted them to be here.

Behind her, the Amorians broke into song as they hoisted the sails, their deep voices swelling with triumph. The melody carried across the deck, rich and full, like the sound of freedom itself.

Blade and Hezra laughed, throwing their arms around each other.

Irene stepped down from the helm.

Javier turned to Zahra, a grin splitting across his face. “You did it!” His voice crackled with joy, raw and unrestrained. “You guided us to the Sapphire!”

Before she could react, he pulled her into a quick embrace, fierce and grateful.

Irene halted in front of them.

Zahra turned, meeting her gaze head-on.

A moment stretched between them, silent and heavy.

Then, Irene stepped closer and extended her hand.

Zahra stared at it. Finally, she grasped it.

They shook hands. Not as rivals. Not as enemies. But as two who had made it this far, against all odds.

Irene arched an eyebrow. Her voice was firm, and sincere.

“Thank you, Zahra. For everything.”

Zahra dipped her head.

“Captain.”

Irene took a deep breath, then turned to the crew.

Her voice rang clear and strong. “Prepare yourselves.” The crew scattered, taking their positions. Irene remained at the helm, her gaze locked on the island. At her command, the StormBreaker cut through the waves, its sails taut with a nervous wind, as if even the sea hesitated to lead them to their fate. Silence gripped the ship. Every sailor stood at their post, eyes fixed on the shoreline as it emerged through the mist.

And there, like a shadow carved from the sky, the Cordelia waited.

It loomed just off the shore, motionless, a predator in the dark. Its sails were furled, yet the ship seemed alive—the creak of its rigging whispering in the wind, its cannons locked onto them. A silent challenge.

Irene narrowed her eyes, scanning the Cordelia’s bow for movement, for life. But there was nothing. Just the ship itself, imposing, waiting, daring them to make the first move.

Her chest tightened. Who would strike first? How many would die today? A sudden flutter of wings ripped through the silence.

A raven swooped low over the Stormbreaker, its hoarse caw slicing through the heavy air. Heads turned, eyes tracking the bird as it dove toward Irene. It landed on the railing, claws scraping against the wood, and dropped a small, rolled-up scroll.

Irene stepped forward, her pulse pounding.

She unrolled the message, the weight of the crew’s stares burning into her back.

One sentence.

"We have Jessalyn. Surrender the prince, or she dies. And so do you."

The words struck her like a blade, stealing her breath.

They burned into her vision, each letter searing itself into her mind. She stared, willing them to disappear—to rewrite themselves into something else, anything else.

Her hands shook. Her throat tightened. Her vision blurred with tears.

Their one chance at escape was gone. The weight of the crew’s silence pressed in, thick and suffocating.

Blade was the first to crack. “What is it?”

Irene hated being trapped. Forced into action. With a flick of her wrist, she rolled the parchment back up and tossed it overboard.

“They have Jessalyn.”

A ripple of shock tore through the crew.

“What? WHAT?!” Blade and Javier’s voices crashed together.

“That’s impossible!” Javier barked, pacing the deck in frantic strides.

“Very possible,” Irene countered, her voice cold, controlled—though fury simmered beneath. "And they want the prince in exchange for her."

Javier froze, his eyes wide with shock. Blade dragged a hand over his face, muttering curses.

“All of this—this insane ambition—it’s gone too far!” Blade’s hands flew up, gestures wild. “Jessalyn was the one person who couldn’t get caught! She was our way out if everything went to hell!"

"You think I don’t know that?!" Irene snapped, her own fury breaking free.

Blade’s head jerked up, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare question her loyalty, Javier.”

“This isn’t about loyalty!” Javier roared, his voice cracking. “She was supposed to lead us to freedom! To the Jade Cities! If WE got caught, SHE was the one who’d save us! That was the plan!”

Irene closed her eyes for a moment, pushing past the storm of emotions tightening in her chest. She understood Javier’s fear, his anger—because she felt it too. Jessalyn had been their sail to freedom. The one with all the answers. The one who couldn’t afford to fall.

Irene opened her eyes.

"Lan." Her voice cut through the shouting around her. She ignored the crew’s frantic arguing, their panic swelling like a storm. "Do you still have one of your mixtures?"

Lan blinked, startled, but nodded. Wordlessly, he reached into his leather satchel, pulling out a small vial of dark liquid and a pouch of ashes.

"Here."

She took them without hesitation. Then she turned.

Blade and Javier were still arguing, their voices climbing over each other in frustration. Zahra chewed at her nails, the Amorians grumbled and cursed, and Hezra looked dangerously close to vomiting.

This was it. The peak of their madness. They were losing their minds, unraveling into fear and chaos. And Irene?

She was scared too. But she didn't have time to be.

"ENOUGH."

Her scream ripped through the ship like a gunshot.

The deck fell silent.

Irene’s breathing was sharp, her pulse a war drum in her chest. She forced herself to nod, as if willing her next words into truth.

"I have a plan."

Silence.

She swallowed hard. Nodded again. "I. Have. A. Plan." She repeated it—not just for them, but for herself.

Without another word, she turned and strode toward her cabin.

Irene threw the cabin door open. Jace was pacing in frantic circles, hands raking through his hair, his movements restless and frantic. Jace froze when he saw her. His eyes locked onto hers, something dangerous flickered in them. Hope.

“Irene.”

He closed the distance in a few quick, unsteady steps, gripping her hands so tightly it almost hurt.

She frowned, startled by the feverish desperation in his touch. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, my prince.” She forced a smile, masking the sharp unease tightening in her chest. “You’re finally being set free.”

But Jace didn’t seem to hear her. His words spilled out, chaotic. “We have to leave.” His voice was raw.

Irene blinked. “What?”

“I’ve planned everything,” he rushed on, breathless, like time was slipping through his fingers. “Forget the sapphire. Forget this cursed quest. We can run. I’ll protect you with my name and my title, it’ll be enough. They’ll try to imprison you, but I won’t let them. No one will touch you. I swear it.”

She opened her mouth, but he kept going, voice cracking. He stepped closer, feverish. “I have land. A place in my name not my father's, in the north. We’ll go there. Just us. We’ll live quietly—no war, no thrones, no blood.”

"Jace…"

His fingers tightened around hers. “You won’t have to fight anymore. Or steal. Or kill to survive.” His breath was uneven. “I’ll give you dresses. And jewels, Irene.” His voice wavered. “Real ones. To wear around your neck. Not stolen. A place filled with paintings of the sea, just like the one I showed you that night. The one you loved.”

For a moment, she wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe there was a world where she could leave it all behind, where peace could be real. But the fire inside her, the hunger for vengeance, burned brighter than any dream of peace. That world didn’t exist. Not for her. Not for him.

Her fingers curled into fists. If her plan was going to work, she had to shatter him.

She ripped her hands from his grasp. “Jace!” Jace froze. "Stop this," she said, forcing her voice to be cold. "There's no escape. It's too late."

Jace opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a raised hand. "Get ready."

She thrust a coat toward him. Jace recognized the coat. The one he’d worn the night of his birthday. He reached for it, his fingers grazing the fabric. It felt heavier than it should, as if it carried the weight of another man’s life. A life that no longer belonged to him.

Irene pulled away, but Jace caught her hand. "Wait!" She met his gaze. Jace turned, rummaging through his things. A moment later, he pulled out his sketchbook. Without hesitation, he tore out a page and handed it to her, the cream coloured paper folded neatly. Irene stared at him, her throat tightening as she reached for it. She unfolded the page. Her breath caught. It was a portrait of her, sketched with a tenderness that stole her breath. He had drawn her like she was something radiant and fierce. Like the light of the sun, the wildness of the sea.

"Jace… it’s beautiful." And it was.

Irene hadn’t even realized she was crying until she felt the warmth of her tears spill onto her lips.

Jace’s voice was hoarse, broken. "So you can remember me." He swallowed hard, forcing a small, sad smile. "Because I will never forget you."

"Thank you," she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. Jace smiled. Irene stepped closer, slipping the jacket over his shoulders. Her fingers lingered at the collar, adjusting it carefully, as if trying to fix something broken beyond repair.

Jace caught her hand, his fingers curling around hers. "This isn’t the end, Captain," he murmured. “You still owe me a dance.”

Irene’s lips curled into a faint smile, but there was sadness beneath it. She already knew this moment would be ripped away too soon.

Then, before she could stop herself, she lifted herself and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Jace stilled. A single tear slid down his face.

Her breath warmed his ear as she whispered the words that might save them all… and as she did, her fingers slipped the mixture into the pocket of his coat. Jace didn’t move.

Irene could only hope he understood what she was about to do. That the reckless plan forming in her mind might, somehow, against all odds, work.

Irene stepped back, memorizing him.

The sharp cut of his jaw.

The way his golden hair caught the light.

The curve of his lips.

She turned to the door. He didn’t look away.

To Jace’s misfortune, he had found love where it was never meant to be, aboard a stolen ship, beside a woman the world called a monster. It had not come to him as a blessing, but as a curse. A love doomed before it even began.

They stepped onto the main deck.

The only sound was the slow, aching creak of the ship beneath Irene’s boots. It felt as if time itself had stilled.

At the bow, her gaze flicked toward the beach.

On the shore, they waited.

Commander Roderick. Dax. The Eldorians. Their ranks unshaken.

Behind her, her crew stirred, shifting uneasily.

Irene turned abruptly. "Listen to me."

No response. Her voice cracked like a whip against the silence.

"LISTEN!" she yelled.

The crew stilled. She swept a hand toward the beach. "Before you draw your swords. Before the blood spills, and the first of us falls…" Her voice carried, steady, sharp as steel. "Remember this."

Her eyes burned as she pointed toward the Eldorians.

"Those men out there—after they kill you, after they take what we fought for and add another jewel to their endless treasures—They will simply return to their golden city?"

Her voice grew colder.

"To their silk beds and their feasts."

"They will go home and embrace their children who have never known hunger."

"And they will drink wine so rich it will stain their lips."

She stepped forward, her boots hitting the deck. She unsheathed her sword and pressed it into Blade’s hands.

Then, she turned to Javier, pressing her compass and pistol into his palms.

Finally, she faced the Amorians, and the rest of her crew.

Her voice lowered, but the weight of her words did not.

"And you?" she asked. "You will be nothing more than a name no one speaks. Another unfortunate soul crushed beneath the wheel of history."

A gust of wind tore through the deck, whipping her hair across her face. She didn’t move.

"They don’t need this treasure." Her voice rang out. "But you do."

She let the words sink like a blade.

"You need this to buy back your names. Your lives. Your dignity."

She felt her throat tighten, her vision blur. But she wouldn’t break.

"They fight for a king."

"You fight for your freedom. And you have nothing left to lose."

She raised her face to the wind.

"When you see the signal…"

Her final words came as a whisper. "Show them the wrath of pirates."

Silence. Then— A roar.

A battle cry.

It ripped through the ship, erupting from every throat, shaking the deck, the sea, the sky.

Without a word, she left the ship, Jace at her side.

The sand crunched under their boots as they stepped onto the shore. The beach pulsed with chaos. On the other side, Jessalyn was dragged forward. Commander Roderick’s grip was iron around her bound arms, her mouth gagged. The Eldorian soldiers pounded their armor, the frantic beat echoing like a war drum.

Irene felt Dax’s stare burning into her. Rage roared through her veins, thrumming beneath her skin, as if the land itself remembered the battle that had once drenched this shore in blood. The Battle of the Two Lovers.

She and Jace walked side by side, each step dragging them closer to the end.

The world slowed. The sun glared down, the heat pressing like an omen. The Eldorian line closed in. Then?—

"DOWN! ON YOUR KNEES! NOW!"

A boot slammed into Irene’s back. She hit the sand hard, knees grinding against the coarse grains. Rough hands wrenched her arms upward, forcing them high above her head. A blade pressed against her throat.

A slap. Sharp, ringing. The taste of iron flooded her mouth.

She raised her head, barely hearing the shouting around her, only her own ragged breathing. Through the blur, she saw Jessalyn shoved forward. But this was a farce. Everyone knew.

Eldorians didn’t exchange hostages. They collected bodies.

"Stay down, pirate," a soldier hissed, fisting a hand in her hair, wrenching her head back.

Another grip, hard and crushing, latched onto Jace’s collar. Ripped him away.

Jace’s head snapped back toward Irene. Their eyes met.

Commander Roderick stepped forward.

“Your Royal Highness! My boy! It’s over now. No more filth.”

His hands roamed Jace’s body, searching for wounds. “They hurt you, didn’t they? They abused you—” He turned sharply toward Irene. “They will pay, I swear it!”

Irene’s breath came hard, fast. She prayed Jace remembered. That he had understood her words in the cabin.

Jace finally spoke. “Are we going straight to Eldoria?”

Commander Roderick hesitated. His lips curled with a hollow, practiced smile. “Of course, Your Highness. But before that, you’ll make your father proud. He needs your blood. You’ll prove your loyalty to the crown. We’ll pass through the Mountain of Four Winds first?—

“The sapphire belongs in your father’s hands, where it will be safe.”

Jace sighed. Disappointed.

Irene lifted her head, watching him. He stood tall, the sun casting a halo over his golden hair.

And then, his eyes met hers.

Bluer than she had ever seen them.

Jace moved. A subtle shift. His hand slipped into his pocket.

Irene closed her eyes. Bracing.

A heartbeat later… the world exploded.

The blast tore through the air. The earth trembled beneath Irene’s knees. A deafening boom . A ripple of force.

And just like that, the balance of fate shifted.