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T he return journey from the ruins was laden with tension, Enyo’s words lingering like a thunderstorm over the crew. Vivienne’s pulse hammered as every rustle in the underbrush set her on edge. Captain Garrett and Commander Thorne led the way, their pace urgent as they neared the clearing.

Something was wrong.

The usual hum of camp life, voices, clinking tools, movement, was gone. An unnatural silence consumed the air, thicker than the humidity.

Then, the devastating scene came into focus.

The camp was in ruins. Tents torn, supplies scattered, barrels split open, their contents trampled into the dirt. The supply tent sagged in on itself, its canvas slashed and flapping in the breeze. The weapons stockpile was empty.

Cirrus broke into a run, skidding to a halt in the wreckage. “What in the fuck happened?” His voice rang with panic.

Captain Garrett’s expression clouded, his sword rasping free of its scabbard. “Enyo.” He spat the name like a curse.

Of course. Only twenty of Enyo’s crew confronted us at the ruins. The rest had been here.

Commander Thorne flipped a broken chest, his face grim. “They’ve taken everything. Food, weapons. Whatever they couldn’t carry, they destroyed.”

Then Vivienne saw them. Bodies.

More than two dozen sailors lay motionless, blood darkening the earth around them. Faces frozen in agony.

She stumbled forward, her legs threatening to buckle. This wasn’t just a supply raid. It was a massacre.

"Dr. Mercer!" Captain Garrett bellowed.

Melodie dashed ahead, her eyes wide with horror. The doctor, the captain, the commander, and Cirrus darted through the carnage, checking for any signs of life.

Lewis stood rooted to the spot, his hands shaking. “We were only gone a day… How did this happen so fast?”

Vivienne's eyes darted across the wreckage, desperate for survivors. Then, she saw him—Gus, slumped against a shattered supply crate, his face pale, blood soaking his clothes.

“Gus!” she cried, rushing to his side and dropping to her knees.

His eyelids fluttered, his deep voice barely a rasp. “Vivienne… they ambushed us. Enyo’s men... they came in the night. We didn’t stand a chance.”

Vivienne’s hands trembled as she assessed his wounds. A deep slash on his arm, nearly to the bone. Defensive wounds marred his hands. He’d fought back.

Gus exhaled, the sound sharp with pain. “Please tell my Millicent?—”

“Stop,” she cut him off, pressing her hands against his arm to slow the bleeding. “None of that talk. You’re not going to die here.”

His skin was gray beneath his tattoos, his breathing shallow. “Stay with me, Gus. We’re going to get help.”

“MELODIE!” she screamed. The doctor sprinted toward them, followed by the other officers.

“They took them…” Gus choked out. “Some of the crew. They took Florence… I tried…” His head lolled back, his voice fading.

Melodie crouched beside them, binding Gus’s arm with a strip of cloth. “Vivienne, get water. Find Lewis. Tell him I need yarrow and dragon’s blood.”

“Dragon’s blood?”

“He’ll know. Go.”

Captain Garrett stormed past, fury burning in his eyes. “How many did they take?”

Gus groaned, struggling to sit up. “Six... maybe seven. I—I couldn’t stop them.”

Commander Thorne swore, crouching beside another crewman, bound to a tree, throat slit. “They came to kill. The supplies were an afterthought.”

Vivienne’s stomach lurched. Half their crew was dead or wounded. More had been taken.

Garrett slammed his sword into its sheath. “We have to find them before it’s too late. Enyo’s crew won’t let them live.”

Vivienne swallowed hard. “We can’t fight if we don’t have the strength to stand.”

“We’ll go after them,” Thorne agreed, “but first, we tend to the wounded and salvage what’s left.”

Melodie tightened Gus’s bandage. He winced. “I’m sorry, Captain,” he whispered. “I failed.”

“No, Gus,” Garrett said firmly. “You did everything you could.”

“Vivienne!” Melodie snapped. “Water. Yarrow. Dragon’s blood. Now! ”

Vivienne squeezed Gus’s uninjured hand before bolting across camp. “Lewis!” she gasped. “Melodie needs water, yarrow, and something called dragon’s blood.”

Lewis stood by the slashed-open water barrels, his expression numb. “They sabotaged the supply. I’ll get the herbs. You’ll have to fetch water from the stream.”

* * *

The next few hours blurred into tending the wounded and preparing the dead for burial. The camp was rank with the scent of flesh and blood-dampened earth, the silence punctuated only by ragged breaths and muffled groans. Vivienne wiped her hands on a torn scrap of fabric, her chest tight as she took in the devastation.

Captain Garrett stood where his tent once had, his sharp gaze sweeping over what remained of their camp. His expression was carved from stone.

Melodie appeared beside him, dirt and sweat streaking her face. “Gus is stable for now, but without proper supplies, he won’t stay that way. If we don’t get him and the others back to the Zephyrus, they won’t make it.”

The captain’s jaw clenched. “Understood, Dr. Mercer. Do what you can to keep them comfortable.”

Melodie nodded and hurried back to the triage area.

Garrett exhaled slowly. “We need a plan to get our people back.”

“We outsmart him,” Cirrus said, his voice cool but edged with something lethal. “Enyo thinks he’s got us beaten, and right now, he’s right. But he won’t expect us to strike back so soon.”

Lewis frowned. “You’re not suggesting we ambush the crew of mercenaries and murderers, are you?”

Cirrus gave a slow nod. “Use the terrain. Hit fast. Get our people out before he even knows what’s happening.”

Thorne crossed his arms. “One misstep and we’ll be slaughtered. Then I imagine he’ll come back here to finish the job.”

Vivienne swallowed hard. The longer they waited, the less likely they’d find the hostages alive. Cirrus’ plan might work—or it might kill them all.

“We don’t have time to wait,” she said, steadying her voice. “It’s a risk, but what other choice do we have?”

Garrett’s gaze flicked between her and Cirrus before he nodded. “We move at first light. Cirrus, find us the best route. Thorne, organize the crew, we’ll need some support. Blume, fortify what’s left of camp and salvage what you can. Banner, assist Dr. Mercer.”

Thorne snapped into action, barking orders. The crew moved with heavy steps, their faces drawn, their exhaustion clear—but they didn’t hesitate.

They had no choice but to keep going.

* * *

Vivienne and Dr. Mercer rinsed bandages and medical tools, while filling as many containers as they could with fresh water.

"I can't believe so many crewmen are..." Vivienne’s voice faltered.

"Dead?" Melodie finished the sentence, her tone even.

Vivienne shuddered. Before this voyage, death had been distant. Now, the images seared into her mind would follow her into the next life.

"I think the dying is harder than death," Melodie continued, wringing out cloth bandages. "I’ve seen suffering beyond words, and often, death is mercy. A hand leading them away from pain."

Vivienne’s thoughts drifted to her parents. If they were lost, hurt, or starving, would she prefer those fates over death? She still couldn’t accept the idea of a world without them. Who am I if I'm not their daughter?

"Why fear something so inevitable?" Melodie mused. "We're born, we live, we die."

"That’s... bleak," Vivienne murmured.

"It’s the opposite," Melodie countered. "Remembering death makes life more important. People aren’t afraid of dying. They’re afraid of never truly living." She met Vivienne’s gaze. "If you’re fearful of death, it’s time to evaluate your life."

Vivienne opened her mouth, but no words came.

Cirrus and Lewis jogged up to the stream.

“Banns, we need you back in camp,” Cirrus said. “Blume will stay with Dr. Mercer. No one goes anywhere alone. Captain’s orders.”

Vivienne glanced at Melodie, silently asking if she was okay to leave. Despite the exhaustion in her dark eyes, the doctor offered a reassuring nod.

Cirrus and Vivienne moved swiftly through the trees. He reached out, his fingers grazing hers, no longer keeping his distance.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She exhaled shakily. “How can anyone be okay after what we’ve seen?” The images looped in her mind—slit throats, severed limbs, lifeless bodies, so much blood. Enyo had turned their camp into a graveyard. "I'm worried about Florence."

Cirrus managed a weak smile. "Have you met Florence? We should be praying for Enyo's safety, not hers. She’s the toughest sailor I’ve ever known. If anyone can handle being taken by a rival crew, it’s her."

Vivienne wanted to believe him, but something didn’t add up. “Why take her ? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to capture you, Lewis, or Dr. Mercer?”

Cirrus frowned. “Gus was the only other officer in camp. Maybe they targeted the highest-ranking crew member?” He shook his head. “Still... what use is a munitions expert in the middle of a rainforest?”

Vivienne’s stomach twisted at the myriad of uses Enyo’s abhorrent crew might find for Florence. "We have to find her. We have to find all of them."

Cirrus stopped in front of Vivienne, cupping her face in his hands. “I swear to you, we will.”