Lost to the Seas Fate

A Friend in Need

**chapter 2**

Roxy embodied the captivating blend of a Siren and a Pyris, a dual nature that defined her very essence. With the enchanting beauty and ethereal voice of a Siren, she could weave melodies that entranced sailors, luring them into the depths of the ocean with every note. Yet, woven into this allure was the fierce spirit of a Pyris, a lineage that granted her the power to manipulate flames with precision and grace. The fire within her flickered like a heartbeat, ready to protect and empower at a moment's notice.

In every interaction, Roxy found herself balancing these two sides of her identity. The Siren’s call whispered to her, promising serenity and connection with the watery depths—its soothing embrace was a temptation she often felt. But alongside that siren song surged the blaze of her Pyris heritage, igniting a fiery passion that refused to be dimmed. This unique combination rendered her both captivating and formidable, a force of nature that could charm or consume.

On this particular day, Roxy sat in her captain's quarters aboard Narrissa's Scorn, enveloped by the familiar scent of salt and adventure. The walls were adorned with maps meticulously marked by her own hand, tracing the treacherous waters they had sailed and the uncharted territories they sought to explore.

The last six months had been slow. Roxy and her crew had captured only three merchant ships and raided five naval vessels from Odessa and Maltainyan—a far cry from the usual double that they would secure during such months. The normally bustling fleet patrols had been strangely scarce, an unusual occurrence that tugged at her instincts.

Her gaze drifted to the three heart lamps on her desk, each flame pointing in a different direction. One flickered towards the East, another to the Northeast, while the third burned brightly before her. The first flame belonged to her brother, the second to her father, and the last was her own. Each lamp held a nearly identical white flame, a unique bond that resonated with her family, as they all shared matching sets aboard their respective ships.

Since they were family, they could feed each other's flames with their blood, keeping them alive. In turn, each flame acted like a compass, always pointing toward its owner. Her first mate knew which of the three belonged to Roxy in case of an emergency. This connection also guided Roxy back to the Narrissa when she felt the urge to swim.

If necessary, she could find her father and brother's ships using the same instinct, though the farther she was from her flame, the more difficult it became to sense its exact direction. In contrast, her father and brother's flames consistently provided a clear path to them, no matter the distance apart.

With a sigh, she closed the ship's logbook. This season had been dismal. Perhaps it was time to head into port and give the crew a much-needed rest. Taking three days in port and then heading to Petros might prove beneficial. Maybe the patrols had shifted, offering her the chance to make up for lost loot while seeking additional opportunities along the way.

Pulling a map across her desk, Roxy studied it carefully. “A day’s sail to Los Cala Gris,” she muttered to herself. “An old pirate-friendly port with a good tavern, delicious food, hot baths, and soft beds.”

She paused, tracing her finger along the coastline. “It's run by the same family my great-grandfather once funded. A piece of safety amid this chaos.”

Her mind raced with plans. “Three days max. Let the crew unwind a bit and stop feeling so squirrelly. We can sell off some of the booty, resupply, then set course for Petros.” Satisfied, she stood and exited her captain's quarters, making her way to the helm.

“Captain!” Ragnar, a tall older man with brilliant blue eyes, strong shoulders, and a smoldering smile, greeted her as she approached.

“Ragnar, how’s the night shift treating you?” she asked, glancing up at the stars twinkling overhead.

“Good, ma’am,” he replied with a nod. “The night has a steady breeze, and the seas have a comfortable lilt. What brings you here at this hour?”

Roxy leaned against the ship’s railing, a smile growing on her lips. “Planning a little detour to Los Cala Gris. Thought it was time the crew had a break. Besides, I could use a good meal and a hot bath.”

Ragnar chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Aye, Captain. That sounds like a wise choice. They’ll appreciate it, and so will you.”

“Right?” she said, grateful for his support.

“Well then, let’s set a course to Los Cala Gris,” Roxy declared, her excitement bubbling over. “Set the ship to 2 off the port bow, and ensure Missus Catarina knows about the course adjustment."

“Los Cala Gris” Ragnar arepeated his voice tinged with eagerness. “Ma'am, your a well and thoughtful woman.”

Roxy laughed, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Mr. Ragnar, I believe you’re due for a crack at Jenny’s tea cup.”

“Ah, Captain, that sounds like a fine time!” Ragnar called after her, a hint of mischief in his tone. “I’ll dig out my best long clothes!”

As Roxy made her way back to her cabin, she felt the thrill of adventure in the air. Settling in for the journey, she planned to catch a few precious moments of sleep before the crew shift.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The warning bell echoed through the ship, jolting her from her slumber. Heart racing, Roxy rolled out of bed. She hastily pulled on a pair of slacks and the same shirt from yesterday, her mind racing with possibilities.

As she fastened her sword and gun belt around her waist, she ran out the door, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

The sight that met her was chaotic yet familiar. The crew scrambled across the deck and rigging, moving with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Shouts mixed with the roar of the waves as they prepared for the unknown.

“Captain on deck!” Ragnar’s shout rang through the din, rallying the crew’s focus.

“Status report!” Roxy called out, scanning the deck for her first mate.

“Catarina!” She spotted her tall first mate, a force of nature with black curly hair and wide shoulders. Strong as an ox and loyal as a sister, Catarina was Roxy's right hand in every tumultuous sea.

“Three ships spotted off the port side, Ma’am,” Catarina relayed, her voice steady despite the intensity of the moment. “It’s the Odessian War Line and a Frigate. The third is an Omen—looks like Mynder’s ship.”

Roxy’s heart sank for a moment. Two enemy ships against Mynder’s battered vessel would leave him hard-pressed to avoid sinking. She quickly calculated their distance; the fate of the Narrissa hung in the balance, dependent on the strength of the wind and the manpower available.

“Can we catch up with them using sails and oars in time?” Roxy pressed, urgency creeping into her tone.

“I believe we can, Captain. It’ll be tight, but it’s possible,” Catarina replied, her voice quick and resolute.

“Then drop the sails!” Roxy bellowed, already feeling the pulse of battle quicken in her veins. “Men to oars!”

A chorus of shouts erupted among the crew, each man and woman moving with purpose toward their stations, fueled by the thrill of the impending clash. The air was electric with anticipation, and Roxy felt a fire ignite within her. She was ready to lead them into the fray.

“Cat, sound the horn, play the third. And get me the oil!” Roxy commanded, her voice cutting through the clamor of the crew.

Catarina nodded without hesitation. “Tattoo! The oil! SILVER, PLAY THE THIRD! MEN, GET YOUR EARS PACKED! THE CAPTAIN SINGS THEIR DOOM!” she hollered, her voice ringing with urgency.

Roxy turned to see Tattoo, a small yet fierce woman, carefully setting down a cast-iron pail filled with oil. Roxy flashed her a quick nod before flicking a small flame into the oil, igniting it. This was an old trick her brother had taught her years ago—flaming cannonballs were a tactic unique to the Pyris, crafted from blood and fire.

Tattoo grinned, that familiar spark of mischief in her eyes, and promptly hefted the burning pot toward the cannon deck, ready to execute their plan.

As Silver struck up the ominous notes of the third, the haunting melody filled the air, sending a warning to the Karrena. It was a signal that she was coming, and the crew needed to pack their ears. This muffling was critical; the song of the siren could easily ensnare sailors, yet it also drained Roxy's strength. The more men she captivated with her voice, the quicker her power was siphoned away.

It was a gamble she rarely took, but the stakes were high. Her song was one of death, and the knowledge weighed heavy on her heart. Many sirens chose to remain in family groups, sharing the burden of their enchanting song, but Roxy had chosen a different path. She had left her mother and sisters behind, trading bonds of blood for bonds of the sea, determined to carve her own destiny.

“Ready!” Tattoo bellowed as she positioned the burning oil for maximum effect. The crew, filled with adrenaline and a sense of purpose, worked swiftly, following Roxy's lead. They would not just defend themselves; they would strike fear into the hearts of their enemies.

With the wind whipping through her hair and the sea beneath her, Roxy took a deep breath. It was time to unleash her song—a melody as fierce as the fire that flickered in Tattoo's pail, a melody that could alter the course of their battle and seal their fates. “Hold fast, my crew!” she shouted, the power of her voice echoing against the hull of the ship. “Today, we fight for the White Omen, and we shall claim victory!”

Roxy swiftly stripped off her pants and gun, leaving nothing but the thrill of the moment as she leaped from the boat. Harnessing the tide, she glided through the water, propelled toward the looming ships like a dart shot from a bow. The currents propelled her with such force that she surged forward at nearly double the speed of the Narrisa.

As she reached the stern of the War Line, she erupted from the waves, the sea cascading away from her as she broke the surface. Drawing a deep breath, she began her haunting song. With each note, she weaved a spell that ensnared the minds of those aboard. Roxy surveyed the deck and counted 12 men—all ensnared in the delicate web of her melody, caught in a trance of her creation.

Changing the tone of her voice, she infused her song with an irresistible yearning, like a gentle caress that beckoned them closer. She could feel the palpable hunger emanating from the men on the main deck, their gazes scanning the water in desperate search of her. It was a powerful spell she wove, igniting their desires and drawing them deeper into her enchantment.

With a swift motion, she unsheathed a dagger from her belt, its blade glinting menacingly in the light. Spotting the first man who leaped off the rail, her instincts took over. She dove beneath the surface, propelling herself toward him with lethal intent, ready to strike as the tide swirled around her.

After dispatching the first man, Roxy swiftly turned her attention to the second, then the third. She could sense the effects of her enchanting song beginning to fade as the sailors started to regain their senses. Their confusion transformed into realization, but she wasn’t ready to relent.

With each encounter, her instincts sharpened, and there was an exhilarating thrill coursing through her veins. The urgency of the moment ignited a fierce determination within her. As she approached the fourth sailor, she used her agility to navigate through the water, gracefully dodging the flailing arms of those who were now fighting against the spell's lingering influence.

By the time she reached the sixth man, an intense energy surged through her. In a swift, fluid motion, she grappled with him, her instincts taking charge. Roxy fought with a desperation that mirrored the sailors’ own panic, her sharp senses honing in on their every move. The struggle was intense, filled with splashes and the sounds of heavy breaths as each fought against the other.

Suddenly, the thunderous sound of cannon fire cracked through the air, reverberating across the sea. The sailors’ instincts kicked in; they fought not just against her but also against the chaos unfolding around them, the danger of the battle escalating. Roxy, caught in the fray, felt the pulse of the ongoing conflict merge with the primal energy surging within her.

The Narrisa having come along side the War Line, her crew blasting through its hull with firey cannon balls.

Roxy stayed in the water, hunting the last of men who had fallen to her song. The eighth man was huge, as she surfaced next to him he grabbed her by the throat. Struggling, she lashed at his face, her claws slashing through his cheek. The large man bellowed in rage and pain as she slashed again, catching the artery in his throat. Blood spraying into her face, he let go. As the sharp bite of steel bit into her shoulder spinning, she found another man at her back.

Shrieking, her rage took over as she grabbed the man and drug him into the depth. She could see the fear in his eyes as he struggled, trying to get back to the surface.

She reached up, slamming her clawed hand into his guts, finding his heart she tore it free and fed the beast with in.

Her Siren had a feral quality, and this was part of her nature. She couldn't hide from it, and when struck with the blood lust, if she didn't satisfy it, she could easily hunt her own.

Once Roxy had regained her composure after defeating the man who had stabbed her shoulder, she propelled herself toward the surface. The cold water rushed past her as she surged upward, her heart pounding not just from the fight but from the urgency of the situation. She could see the chaos above—the smoke from cannon fire, the frantic movements of her crew, and the menacing silhouettes of sailors swarming the deck of the War Line.

Determined to assist her comrades, Roxy forced every ounce of pain aside. Her instincts as a siren urged her to protect the crew she fought alongside. Rising above the waves, she took a moment to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. The sight of her crew battling fiercely against the invading sailors reignited her fighting spirit. With a fierce resolve, she glanced around, assessing the fray, searching for her next target, knowing that every second counted in this desperate struggle.

Her claws still glimmered ominously in the fading light as she scanned the tumultuous scene. Roxy spotted a group of sailors attempting to board her ship, clambering over the rails with shouts of triumph. A surge of fierce determination coursed through her veins as she dove back into the water, ready to turn the tide of battle in her crew's favor. She would not allow her fellow sailors to fall; together, they would reclaim their ship from the jaws of their foes.

Climbing through the pain, she heaved herself up onto the main deck. Ducking, she narrowly missed a sword coming in her direction. Roxy dipped and slugged the man in his jewels, then reefed the sword from his grasp.

In one blow, she ended him. Her rage was burning as she sliced her way through the men who had boarded her ship, The crew, helping her beat back the enemy, one by one they fell

"To the Karrena!" Roxy bellowed.

Her crew scrambled across the planks that had been placed between the ships.

The men continued the fight, ending all the lives of their enemies.

"Mynder," Roxy grasped the forearm of her fellow captain, her grip firm and unyielding. "What the hell are you doing in my seas?"

Mynder stood before her, a short wall of a man with a bushy handlebar mustache, streaks of grey peppering his facial hair, and long locks tied into a knot atop his head. He met her fierce gaze with a sly grin. "Roxy, you have no idea how happy I was when I heard the third ringing out over the waters. That song was my salvation today."

Her brow furrowed as she prepared for the worst. "Your brother sent me to check on you. The seas have been off. Something isn't right, and he wanted me to ensure you were safe."

Roxy couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it. She shook her head. "Fools. You know my brother's overprotective nature is still apparent, right? How many injuries? How many lost from this foolishness?"

Her heart ached, conjuring memories of fallen sailors, laughter turned to echoes. She bit her lip, pushing those thoughts away. "Did you even stop to think about what you're getting into?"

"Well," Mynder scratched his chin, his expression shifting to one of concern, "we took some hits—but thankfully not that many. We managed to push the invaders back. Thanks to your help."

Her eyes widened as she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "So.." Roxy stumbled slightly. The dull throb of where she had been stabbed began to ache.

Mynder nodded, excitement growing in his voice. "Aye, though the seas were turbulent, The White Omen prevails."

Roxy couldn’t help but grin, relief flooding through her. "As per usual, my brothers worry was in vain."

Again, the wound assaulted her senses.

Something was definitely wrong.

Mynder chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "But we both know he’ll never stop worrying, Roxy. That’s just who he is."

"True enough," she replied. "I guess we’ll have to keep surprising him then."

Suddenly, the shouts of their crews broke through, a mix of laughter and celebration. Roxy took a moment, drinking in the sight of her crew intact, smiles plastered on their faces, the tension of battle melting away.

"Looks like we’ve earned ourselves a feast," she announced, her spirits lifted.

“Aye! Let’s raise a tankard to a successful day!” Mynder called out, raising his mug high above his head.

Roxy joined in, her voice ringing out, "To camaraderie and courage! To those who stand together on these seas!"

As cheers erupted around them, the two captains shared a knowing glance. They had battled the storm together and emerged victorious.

Cat approached, handing them both a tankard.As Roxy reached out to take it, a sharp pain shot through her arm, causing her to gasp. Dizziness engulfed her, and the world began to fade into darkness, the sounds of celebration blurring into silence as she collapsed.