Lost to the Seas Fate

Los Cala Gris

**Chapter 3

The darkness was gently disrupted by a familiar rocking sensation, a comforting sway that reminded Roxy of the ship's embrace. She struggled to piece together her surroundings and the events that had transpired. Slowly, her memories filtered back: the fierce battle against the two Odessian ships, her Siren's haunting song sealing the fate of their enemies, and the reassuring thought of Mynder's safety and her crew's well-being. Then, a void—just darkness, pain, and the sensation of falling.

"I think she's waking," a voice broke through the haze. It was Sonia, her accent rich and soothing like warm honey. "Easy now, Roxy."

With effort, Roxy forced her eyes open, wincing at the harsh glow of dim lantern light. "What happened?" she rasped.

"You passed out," Cat replied, worry evident in her voice. "You scared us."

Sonia leaned closer, her expression serious. "The wound in your shoulder is poisoned. You’re lucky it was diluted with sea water, or things could’ve been much worse."

Roxy frowned, trying to recall. "The fight... I remember. Mynder, is he alright?"

“He’s fine,” Sonia assured, a hint of relief in her tone. “He was worried sick about you."

Cat chimed in, “Yeah, he’s pacing up on deck, ready to turn the ship upside down if he had to.”

“Pacing?” Roxy managed a weak smile. “That’s his style. He’ll wear a path in the boards.”

Sonia couldn’t help but smile back. “You have a way of making this easier, captain. But we need to focus on you now.”

Roxy shifted slightly, testing the pain in her shoulder. “Will it heal?”

“Of course it will,” Sonia replied confidently. “But you need to rest. The ship's safe. The crew’s safe. Just breathe."

“I need to get up. We have—”

“Roxy.” Cat’s tone turned serious again. “You’re not getting up until Sonia clears you. Understood?”

Roxy sighed playfully. “You two sound like an old married couple.”

Sonia chuckled, shaking her head. “More like a worried mother and her stubborn child.”

“Guilty as charged,” Cat admitted with a grin. “Just let us take care of you for now.”

Roxy nodded, comforted by their support. “Alright, alright. But just until I can get back on my feet.”

“We’ll dock in Los Cala Gris in another day,” Catarina said, pouring a glass of water for Roxy and helping her take a sip.

“Yes, and the loot from the Odessian ships was quite the score,” Sonia added, her eyes bright with excitement. “We replenished our gunpowder and cannonballs, and the smaller ship was packed with materials, gold, finery—just the sort of frivolous junk that king hoarded. It should net us a handsome return.”

That news lifted Roxy’s spirits; it would bolster the crew's haul for the season. “What’s the status of the crew?” she asked.

“Nothing major,” Sonia reported. “Ragnar took the sharp end of a sword to his thigh. Cenbar has another scar to add to his macho collection. And Roach, Mynder's first mate, needed 18 stitches in his side. Thankfully, nothing life-threatening.”

“Honestly, Roach bellowed more than necessary,” Catarina interjected with a chuckle. “He’s lucky he has those cute dimples to charm us.”

“I suppose I should check in with Mynder before he storms in here,” Roxy sighed. “Can you help me find something decent to wear?”

“Sure thing,” Cat replied, nodding as she headed to the closet.

Dressed for company, Mynder burst into her cabin. “Rox, you nearly gave me a heart attack! Why didn’t you tell me you’d been stabbed?” His hands flailed with concern.

“It’s really not that bad,” Roxy said, downplaying what had happened.

“You fainted! You were bleeding and unconscious. Do you have any idea how Petros will react when he finds out?” Mynder exclaimed, his voice rising.

“Let’s keep this between us, Mynder. It’ll save us both a lot of trouble,” Roxy smirked, fully aware of the chaos that would ensue from her being stabbed, especially with a poisoned knife involved.

“We both know I can’t do that,” Mynder sighed.

Rolling her eyes at Mynder’s steadfast loyalty to her brother, Roxy decided to change her approach. “Look, I didn’t die. So there’s really no need for him to know. We’re not lying; we’re just omitting the details. If I had died, you’d have to share, but since I didn’t, you don’t,” she said with a smirk, thinking she had him convinced.

Mynder huffed, “Rox, that’s not how it works. And you know it.” She could see the smile he was trying to suppress, which lightened his mood.

“I know,” she sighed, batting her eyelashes playfully, “but a girl can hope.”

Mynder burst into a hearty laugh, unable to resist her charm.

"The Legittus charm is just as dangerous in feminine form, it seems,” Mynder remarked with a smile. “I remember watching your brother charm a pair of high-society twins once, distracting them while we smuggled an ancient manuscript out of their father’s vault.”

“That was just a few years ago,” Roxy recalled, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. She hadn’t been there, but her brother had excitedly shared every detail of the adventure with her. From what she heard, she might even have nieces or nephews lurking out there as a result of that escapade.

“Look, I promise I’ll rest. The plan is to reach Los Cala Gris, give the crew a few days for shore leave, and restock supplies. After that, I intended to go see Petros myself. That’s what we were doing when we spotted your ship in danger,” Roxy confessed, feeling a mix of guilt and determination.

“Hmm, well,” Mynder said, tugging his mustache thoughtfully. “Let’s get these ships to Los Cala Gris. I think that’s a solid plan. We can keep an eye on your condition and gather more supplies for Sonia. She was quite worried about some powder she needed for your wound.” He paused, looking serious. “Let’s focus on that and see what the sea god has in store for us.”

Mynder returned to his ship, leaving Roxy to her tasks for the day. She dove into organizing her logs, meticulously cataloging the treasures that had been brought in. Catarina and Tattoo had delivered a trove of books and manuscripts collected from the Oddesian ships for her to review, and she felt a surge of excitement at the sight of them.

Her father had always nurtured a passion for literature, and he had instilled that same love in both Roxy and her brother, Petros. They grew up learning to read and write, mastering multiple languages, and understanding the true worth of rare books and manuscripts, all thanks to his guidance.

As she sifted through the materials, Roxy discovered a remarkable collection of Pyris lore manuscripts, alongside a colorful book of Pyris children's fables and a few volumes from other southern cultures. She found something about these works particularly captivating; the Pyris people were known for their fierce preservation of culture and tradition, refusing to let their knowledge simply slip away into obscurity. Throughout her life, her father had only come across three books written in that ancient language, which made these finds all the more precious.

Realizing the significance of her discoveries, she decided they deserved to be shared with her family. After a moment’s thought, she carefully placed the manuscripts into a hidden bookshelf, ensuring they would remain protected until she could present them to her father and brother.

As Roxy continued to sort through the stacks of books, her excitement grew with each discovery. She stumbled upon three more volumes that immediately captured her interest, and she decided to tuck them away in the same hidden compartment for safekeeping.

The first was a fascinating account of the Harken, a mystical group from the northern regions known to transform into giant birds of prey. These elusive beings were said to dwell among the towering peaks of Heldine, soaring high above the clouds. Most people in the lower lands dismissed them as mere myth; however, the book contained detailed descriptions of their legendary flights and their intricate connection to the winds and skies. Roxy couldn't help but wonder if her father had ever encountered tales of the Harken during his own explorations.

The second volume was a rare manuscript on the lost island of Sycan. It appeared to have been penned before the island disappeared, swallowed whole by an encroaching mist that had left no trace. The descriptions within hinted at a vibrant culture, rich in art and surrounded by untold mysteries. Roxy felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of Sycan’s fate, knowing that countless stories and lives had likely been lost along with it.

The last book was particularly intriguing. It recounted the story of the world's creation, written in a language that resembled Oddesian but had its own distinct nuances. As Roxy flipped through the pages, she found herself guessing at the meaning of several passages; the similarity of the language teased her intellect, but certain words and phrases eluded her comprehension completely. This book could hold secrets about the creation myths that might connect or diverge from her own culture's stories.

With these remarkable additions, Roxy felt a surge of eagerness to share her findings with her family. She carefully tucked the three books into the hidden compartment alongside the Pyris lore, safeguarding them until she could reveal their significance to her father and brother. The prospect of their shared discussions fueled her passion for exploration and learning, and she couldn't wait to dive deeper into these newfound treasures.

The remainder of the journey unfolded in a serene hush, each moment passing like a gentle breeze. No further treasures stumbled upon the attention of the crew; instead, the piles were returned to the hold, nestled alongside countless trinkets and ornate fineries, all marked for sale. Shadows danced across the wooden planks, echoing the quiet rhythm of the ship's journey.

Sonia made her way to Roxy's side, her presence a comforting balm. With gentle hands, she tended to Roxy's wound, meticulously cleaning and changing the bandages, her skilled touch accompanied by soft spoken words of encouragement. Cat sat nearby, immersed in the duty of reviewing the ship’s logs, her keen eyes darting across the pages as she diligently helped Roxy draft meticulous notes on the expected value of the items to be sold. The scent of salt and old parchment mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie.

Meanwhile, Ragnar strolled in with his usual swagger, followed closely by Silver and Barton. They gathered around a small table, shuffling cards with laughter and light-hearted banter, their spirits buoyed by the gentle sway of the ship. Even amidst the mundane tasks and shared responsibilities, the crew thrived with a palpable sense of joy vibrating through their ranks. The prospect of imminent shore leave had that magical ability to uplift, transforming their exertions into shared anticipation.

As dawn broke over the horizon, the Narrisa glided into the harbor, caressed by the golden hues of morning light. Roxy stood at the rail, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and relief. There were no navy vessels in sight, a reassuring absence that quelled some of the underlying worries she had carried with her throughout the voyage. The gentle lapping of waves against the hull whispered promises of freedom and new adventures, and, with each passing moment, Roxy felt the weight of the journey lift, giving way to the thrill of what lay ahead on solid ground.

The two boats gracefully nestled against the sturdy beams of the second pier, their hulls gently rocking with the ebb and flow of the tide. As Roxy stood on deck, her gaze swept across the harbor, where three pirate ships lurked ominously at the first pier. One of the smaller vessels struck a curious chord in her memory, its silhouette strangely familiar, though the specifics eluded her. What brought her comfort, however, was the absence of any immediate threats; none of these ships sent a shiver of alarm through her veins.

She would have recognized the notorious Red Anchor and the Silent Renegades among the trio, both vessels known for their antagonism toward her crew. Fortunately, these ships displayed no identifying markings, an intriguing detail that left her pondering their origins.

As the Narrisa settled into her berth, the crew sprang into action, bustling with purpose. They began unloading their wares while paying the harbor master his due for the dock fees, the sounds of their efforts mingling with the vibrant life of the pier. To maintain security, the crew divided their numbers, leaving a skeleton crew aboard for emergencies, while others embarked on shifts that would allow them to venture into town. This practice was customary, ensuring the Narrisa remained safely in their hands and away from prying eyes.

Observing the crew depart, Roxy felt a sense of camaraderie fill the air. Those remaining on board settled into the comforting embrace of the sunlit deck, savoring the lively atmosphere of the harbor. With a sense of purpose propelling her forward, Roxy collected a small stack of carefully chosen books, gifts for Morton, a book dealer in town and a dear friend of her father's. The books, much like her thoughts, were filled with stories waiting to be shared, and she was eager to deliver them..

After deciding to visit the old man, she chose an outfit that better suited her femininity. She swapped her snug-fitting slacks and men's tops for a flowing dress adorned with a leather corset and a lovely petticoat. Complementing her look, she slipped into soft brown knee-high boots. Taking a moment to arrange her raven-black hair, streaked with hints of red, she brushed it back, allowing a few small, loose braids to cascade around her face.

As Roxy headed into the bustling town, she walked with purpose toward Morton's shop, books strapped and tucked under her cloak on her arm and a small purse of coins nestled into her breast. The market was alive with chatter and laughter, and the vibrant mood of the men and women shopping was infectious.

Stopping at a few stands, she glanced at the colorful displays. "Just a little something to brighten my day," she mused, picking up a red jeweled hairpin. "And, oh! A bag of sweets from the bakery!" she said to herself, her heart racing with excitement.

As she popped a chocolate truffle into her mouth, a nostalgic sigh escaped her lips. "It's been years since I indulged in these treats. Just like the ones my father used to buy for me," she reminisced, smiling at the memory.

Finally, the old building came into view, and with a swift motion, Roxy swung open the door, causing the bell to tinkle cheerfully. A grey-haired man with spectacles perched low on his nose poked his head out from behind a dusty shelf.

"Roxalissa Legittus!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with warmth.

"Morton! It's good to see you," Roxy called back, swinging the stack of books she brought onto the counter with a flourish. "I came with gifts."

"Ah, you shouldn't have!" Morton grinned, his smile lighting up his face. "But I’m certainly glad you did. Let’s see what treasures you’ve brought me!"

Roxy carefully spread the collection of books out before Morton, her heart racing with excitement. Each title held a world of possibilities. "Look at this one," she said, her fingers brushing over the worn leather cover of "The High Commander: A Guide to War Strategies." "It’s filled with tactics and tales that could bring a battlefield to life!"

Morton adjusted his spectacles, leaning closer to examine the book with a twinkle in his eye. "Ah yes, a classic. I remember when I first read it; I could almost hear the clash of swords and taste the dust of ancient war grounds," he chuckled.

She continued, gesturing toward another book with ornate, silver lettering. "And this one—'Shifters: The Magic That Binds the Duality.' I've heard tales about it, but I've never seen a copy this pristine!" The cover glimmered in the dim light of the shop, hinting at the secrets hidden within.

Morton's fingers gently lingered over the parchment and leather-bound books. Roxy couldn’t help but smile. Seeing his delight made her decision to visit this evening worthwhile. They spent hours enveloped in conversation, the afternoon slipping away as they explored each title she had brought.

"Now, this one," Morton said, excitement bubbling in his voice as he pointed to an ancient-looking book resting quietly on the shelf. "This one is for you, my girl. It’s said to recount the teachings of the Goddess Bryaxis on the creation of the siren."

Roxy's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the book. Morton’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and the weight of the moment pulled her closer. “A recounting from Bryaxis? But… there’s never been any written lore about my kind, at least not that I know of.”

"Exactly!" Morton replied, leaning closer as if sharing a great secret. "This book is an absolute rarity, written in your mother’s tongue, no less. Can you imagine the knowledge within?"

Her fingers itched to turn the pages, the anticipation coursing through her like magic. "I… I have to see it," she whispered, awestruck.

With a gentle chuckle, Morton slid the book towards her, and as she reached for it, both of them knew this was more than just a book. It was a bridge to a past that had long been shrouded in mystery.

"And these," Morton continued, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "I need you to get these to your father. It’s crucial, Roxy. And for goodness' sake, tell no one about them." He glanced around the shop, ensuring they were truly alone, before turning back to her with a serious expression.

Roxy furrowed her brow as she regarded the two ancient manuscripts that lay before her. The pages were frayed, and the bindings appeared to be barely holding up. She could feel the weight of history pressing down on her. "But... what if I can’t read them?" she stammered, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

Morton nodded knowingly. “Not many can even decipher these, and that’s why you must ensure their safety.” He let out a soft sigh, adding, “I suspect one is about the sun god Solayris, maybe even detailing his rites or history. The other, as you might gather, seems to speak of a curse."

Roxy took a step closer, her gaze fixed on the ornate lettering that adorned the manuscripts. The script was unfamiliar, twisting and curling in ways she had never seen before. “It’s so different from what I know,” she said, biting her lip in concentration. “If I guess right—and it’s a big if—it seems like this one touches on light itself… something about the dawn, perhaps?” Her voice was tentative, as if she feared speaking it aloud might shatter the fragile mystery.

Morton nodded approvingly, a trace of admiration in his eyes. "That’s a good take. Solayris was revered, but the power of the sun comes with its own burdens. And as for the curse..." He paused, his expression grave. “Curses have a way of tying the fates of those involved. You must approach this with caution.”

Roxy swallowed hard, the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders. “But why must I deliver them? Why can’t you do it?”

"Because," Morton said softly, leaning closer, "your father is the only one I trust to handle this knowledge. He has the wisdom to understand it and the strength to protect it. You can think of this as a rite of passage, a test of sorts.”

She glanced from Morton’s earnest face to the manuscripts, feeling a rush of determination. “All right, I’ll do it. But I need to know everything he might need to understand,” she said resolutely, her heart racing with both fear and excitement.

“Of course, my dear. Just remember—silence is key. The less anyone knows about these, the better,” he advised, offering her a reassuring smile that illuminated the gravity of their task.

Roxy took a deep breath, steeling herself for the venture ahead. “I won’t let you down, Morton,” she promised, feeling the weight of the world shift as she prepared to step into a destiny intertwined with ancient secrets and untold tales.

Finishing her cup of tea with Morton, Roxy felt a gentle warmth spreading through her. “Thank you for the books and for your time, Morton,” she said, her voice reflecting genuine appreciation. The old man nodded, his eyes twinkling with wisdom, and she left the cozy shop, her mind still buzzing with thoughts of the manuscripts.

She made her way to The Rusty Anchor Tavern and Inn, where her family had maintained a small suite for emergencies. This tradition had been in place long before Roxy was born, a hidden refuge secured by a loan that funded the inn's very existence. The family that ran it was among the few her father trusted implicitly, a lifeline in times of need.

As she approached the inn, the familiar scent of aged wood and spiced ale welcomed her. Roxy entered through the side entrance designated for guest check-ins, the low murmur of conversations blending with the distant clanging of mugs. She approached the counter, where a young man sat engrossed in a novel, a frown creasing his brow with every turn of the page.

Roxy cleared her throat softly, the sound breaking the quiet bubble around him. The boy looked up, surprise flashing across his face. His eyes widened, and for a brief moment, he wore an expression of shock that made her grin, before he slammed the book shut with a barely contained gasp.

“Roxy! I didn’t see you there,” he stammered, quickly straightening his posture, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I thought… well, I didn’t expect you back so soon!”

“Thought you could hide behind that book, huh?” she teased, her smile playful as she took in his awkwardness. “Just here to check in. You know the drill.”

“Right, right!” he replied, running a hand through his hair, his nervousness palpable. “Let me get that for you.” He fumbled with the ledger, his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to compose himself. Roxy watched, amused, as he tried to shake off his surprise, reminded of how easily she could fluster him.

“Everything okay on your end?” she asked, leaning forward on the counter. “No trouble brewing while I was gone?”

He shook his head, finally looking a bit more at ease. “Just the usual. A few noisy patrons—but nothing I can’t handle!” He flashed her a proud grin, the momentary tension dissipating like steam from a teacup.

“Good to know,” Roxy replied, appreciating the lightness between them. “I might need to settle in for a bit; there's quite a lot on my mind.”

“Take your time,” he said, his voice returning to a more professional tone as he swiftly inked her initials in the check-in book. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Roxy nodded, her heart feeling a bit lighter as the weight of her recent discoveries followed her into the warmth of the inn. At least here, she knew she could find a moment of solace amidst the looming shadows of uncertainty.

“Here’s your key,” he said, handing her a silver key attached to a leather strap.

“Thanks!” she replied with a smile, accepting the key before making her way towards the stairs.

Once she reached her room, Roxy took a moment to carefully hold the books Morton had given her. She then stepped into the second bedroom, where she loosened the baseboard from the wall. Tucking the books into the hidden compartment, she ensured they were safely stashed away.