⋆˖☽ Chapter 5 ☾˖⋆
3531 Words
The frigid air was a physical weight, biting at exposed skin until it went numb. My breath hit the air in sharp, rhythmic puffs of smoke that were instantly devoured by the gray expanse. To my eyes, the dark miasma coiled around the ocean’s surface, urging the black waves to swell and batter the ship’s hull with the sound of breaking bones.
Please, I pleaded to the silent dark, don't let this be the
Cinderwake.
On the shore, the crew scrambled to clear the carts, their shouts torn away by the gale.
"Time to move," I whispered, my gaze locked on the massive warship looming ahead like a floating fortress. "They're almost finished."
I pulled the cloth back over my eyes, surrendering my sight to the dark. The world vanished, only to be instantly replaced. The shadows didn't just sharpen; they sang to me, outlining the world in high-contrast greyscale and obsidian. I walked blindly but with predatory confidence, the uneven dirt path giving way to the groaning timber of the gangplank.
I had barely stepped aboard when a mass of heavy shadow collided with me.
"Watch where you're going!" the man snarled, clutching a crate to his chest as he regained his balance. "You almost made me drop the supplies."
I side-stepped, blending into the periphery. He didn't wait for an apology; he just barreled past, leaving the scent of stale sweat and grime in his wake.
Through the veil, the ship was full of frantic energy. Every shadow moved with distinct, aggressive purpose—except one. A small, fragile silhouette was bent low near the rail, scrubbing the deck on hands and knees. Another figure, hulking and broad, loomed over him like a storm cloud.
"Hurry up," the man barked, stabbing a thick finger toward the planks. "I told you already, I need you to scrub the mess over there."
"Yes," the figure on the ground replied. The voice was young, but brittle.
"I don't mean later. Right now, Nikos!"
The name struck me. A wave of nausea rolled through my gut, warping my vision; the shadows bent and tilted, clashing violently against one another before snapping back into a terrifyingly sharp focus. The realization turned my blood to slush. This wasn't just a warship.
This was the Cinderwake.
I need to find a place now be—
"What do you think you are doing?"
My eyes widened behind the cloth blindfold. Instinct took over; I dropped my head, shrinking my silhouette to avoid notice.
"Captain," the crewman replied, his voice shrinking to match his posture. "I was just telling him he needed to clean the mess."
I shifted my weight, ghosting toward the dark maw of the lower deck entry. I cannot get caught. My fingers found the cold iron handle, slick with sea spray, and pulled the door open. As it clicked shut behind me, the roar of the wind and the crew was instantly severed, replaced by a suffocating silence.
I descended into the belly of the ship. Torches flickered along the walls, throwing dancing, elongated shadows that stretched out to guide me down the corridor. It seemed dead down here, the air stagnant and heavy.
If I remember correctly… turn here. Three doors down.
I reached for the handle but froze, my hand hovering inches from the wood. The last time I stood before this room, Celia had been beside me.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I shoved the swelling grief down. I opened the door, slipped inside, and pressed it shut behind me. I stayed there, spine pressed against the wood, and rested my head back with a silent, trembling exhale.
"Only a few more hours," I whispered to the empty room.
My fingers were clumsy and numb as I dragged the blindfold down around my neck. I held perfectly still, forcing my lungs to slow their frantic work. They are preoccupied... for now.
I opened my eyes. The room was bathed in a blood-red wash as the Red Moon peered through the small, salt-crusted porthole. Everything smelled of musty oak and decay. The air here was biting, sharper than before, seeping through my clothes until a violent shiver racked my body.
I checked the door. No lock.
I let out a frustrated sigh and sank onto the bed; the old mattress dipped deep under me, smelling of dust. Somewhere below, the heavy grind of the anchor being weighed echoed through the floorboards like a beast grinding its teeth. Muffled voices drifted in from outside—indistinguishable, ghostly murmurs.
I buried my face in my hands. The violent snap of sails catching the wind reached my ears. The ship groaned, waking up. The floor tilted beneath me as the Cinderwake lurched forward, crashing its iron-reinforced prow into the waves.
Heavy footfalls vibrated down the corridor, drawing closer and closer to the room. My head shot up; every muscle in my body coiled tight.
Waiting...
But the footsteps didn't stop. They marched past the door, fading as the person ventured deeper into the ship’s insides.
This is going to be a long night.
Unable to tolerate the stillness, I began to pace the small cabin. Outside, the crash of the waves smoothed into a long, rhythmic hiss against the hull. Inside, my eyes locked on the unlit candle sitting on the nightstand.
I refuse to lose my weapons again.
I moved to the bed and knelt, ignoring the bite of the cold floorboards against my knees. I yanked the thin sheet free and ripped a large square from the bottom. The sound of tearing fabric shrieked through the quiet room, sounding impossibly loud.
Cloth isn't enough. The ocean will soak right through it.
I grabbed the candle. The wax was cold and unyielding, but I don't have a choice. Spreading the fabric on the floor, I began to grind the candle into the weave. Back and forth. Harder. Faster. Working the wax until the friction warmed it, my arm burning with the effort. The white linen grew stiff and gray, coated in a crude waterproof shell.
I paused to breathe. The red moonlight had crawled across the floor, now painting the opposite wall in crimson.
This has to work.
I removed my bow and quiver, bunching the arrows tight, and jamming the waxed cloth over the delicate fletching. I took a spare strip of linen and lashed it around the opening, tightening it until the leather of the quiver groaned in protest.
I gave the quiver a violent shake. Silence. The arrows were secure; they wouldn't float away or rot in the damp. I swung the kit onto my shoulder, buckling it tight across my chest. I stood up, my knees popping and aching from the cold.
I reached for my bow—
Click.
The door handle turned.
My muscles locked. My hand instinctively drifted to my thigh, fingers curling tight around the hilt of my dagger.
The door creaked open. A mop of white hair reflected the bloody glow of the room. The figure was small and battered, his gaze fixed submissively on the floorboards.
Nikos?
I hesitated. My grip tightened once—white-knuckled—then released. My hand fell to my side. I can reason with him. I hope.
He finally looked up. He squinted at me, confused by the dark hair, until his gaze locked onto mine. He flinched violently, his bright green eyes widening.
"Your eyes..." he breathed, taking a step back. "You are the only one... Alanah?" He paused. "Wha—why are you here? Shouldn't you be at the Underkeep?"
"Why don't you come in?" I suggested, forcing the tremor out of my voice.
He hesitated, looking back at the dark hall, before stepping in and shutting the door. He shifted his weight, wringing his hands until the knuckles turned white.
"Does Kira know you are here?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
"No." I hushed him immediately. "She is not aware, nor should she be."
"But Kira is the Captain," he stammered, panic rising in his throat. "She... she knows everyone who is aboard."
"Not this time." I dropped my voice to a dangerous, conspiratorial whisper. "Not when it is a direct order from Ruslan."
I held his gaze, letting the suffocating weight of that name fill the small room.
His eyes widened, and all the color drained from his face. "The Commander himself?"
I nodded slowly.
"But that—"
"Nikos. You know we do not question him. He knows better than all of us."
I said the words smoothly, even as my stomach twisted in disgust at the thought of the man.
"But—" He choked on the word before going silent.
His shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. "I will not question you further." He stepped deeper into the room. The red moonlight deepened the dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes, making him look skeletal.
"May I just rest in here for a bit?" He glanced nervously at the door and then stared at the floor, his voice cracking. "I am... tired."
"You—"
Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall—not walking this time, but running. The violent sound of doors being banged open one by one echoed closer.
CRASH.
Our door flew open, the handle smashing into the wall with enough force to crack the wood. A crewman stood there, wild-eyed and silhouetted by the torchlight of the corridor.
"What are you doing? Get to the main deck now!" he screamed, his voice raw with adrenaline. "Our attack on Luminethra begins!"
Nikos stood frozen in the aftermath. His gaze bored into the floorboards, hands trembling before curling into fists.
"Let's go." His voice cracked, barely audible.
We crossed the threshold into absolute chaos. The air was thick, choking on the thunder of boots and the wet thud of bodies colliding. A Vow member slammed into Nikos, sending him sprawling against the hard deck.
"Nikos, get up!" I screamed over the din. He didn't move. He just stared at the wood, paralyzed by the violence. "Nikos, now!"
I grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him to his feet. He swayed, eyes glazed and unseeing.
"This isn't your fight, Nikos." I don’t have time for this, I thought, the cold spike of panic piercing my chest. "Go hide. Somewhere deep. Now."
He nodded, his shoulders collapsing under an invisible weight. "Like I always do," he whispered, the bitterness sharper than the salt air. "Hide and never help."
He turned on his heel and scrambled away, disappearing into the dark recesses of the ship, away from the blood and the noise.
I hope he finds his way.
The deck of the Cinderwake hummed beneath my boots, a vibration of wood groaning against wood and the metallic clatter of munitions. The ship shuddered violently as the anchor cranked down toward the ocean floor, the sound vibrating through my very bones.
High above on the quarterdeck, Kira stood near the wheel, silhouette framed by the rigging, barking orders. "Everyone to your positions! Blades ready!"
Behind her, the massive land rose from the sea, swallowing the clouds.
Luminethra.
The crew was frantic, hurriedly lowering the rowboats. I wove through the melee, dodging swinging ropes and running men, until I spotted a small skiff teetering over the side. Two men were aboard, struggling with the lines, leaving a single empty seat in the stern.
This is my chance. I vaulted onto the gunwale, the spray of the ocean kissing my face.
"What are you doing?" a man shouted, lunging for me.
I glanced back. The lantern light caught my irises—crimson against the dark—and the man faltered. I offered no answer. I simply pushed off, dropping through the open air.
Gravity took me, and I landed in the small ship below with a heavy thud. The rowboat rocked violently, dipping dangerously close to the waterline. Both men whipped their heads toward me, shock erasing their focus.
"I thought those heading to shore could use an extra blade," I said, steadying myself.
"So you just jumped into a random rowboat?" the slender man in the prow huffed, his hand drifting to his belt.
"You should be where you are assigned," the other man rumbled from the oars. He shifted forward, his bulk crowding the small space.
I didn't argue. I just sat down on the cold, damp wood of the bench, making myself small. The ropes groaned above us under the tension until we dropped the final few feet. The boat slapped the ocean with a jarring crack, sending a spray of icy seawater washing over my boots.
The oarsman in the middle tightened his grip, his back muscles bunching as he rowed us toward the looming shadow of Luminethra. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes hard.
"We will be ashore shortly. Now tell me: who are you?"
"A Vow member, just like you." I kept my voice flat, stripping it of all emotion. "I work under Ruslan."
The slender man in the front sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes slid slowly from me to the oarsman.
That should be enough.
A silent glance passed between them. The silence stretched as the island grew larger and the boat creaked rhythmically. The man in front moved his lips. There was no sound, but a single word formed clearly in the moonlight.
Liar.
I shot to my feet, rocking the small vessel violently. The slender man was already moving, a dagger gleaming in his hand. The oarsman ducked low as the blade slashed through the air where my throat had been a second before. I twisted, dodging the second swipe, but the chaotic motion threw me off balance.
My boot slipped on the wet wood. I tumbled backward, over the rail.
The impact was instantaneous. The icy ocean flooded my senses, seizing my body in a freezing, crushing grip. The air was ripped from my lungs. I was heavy, drifting downward, surrendered to the relentless pull of the currents. The world above became muffled, reduced to nothing but the rhythmic, terrifying heartbeat of the water.
Move, I commanded my limbs.
I tried to kick, but blinding pain shot through my ribs—a jagged lightning bolt of agony. Gasping in shock, I inhaled seawater instead of air.
Kick. Please, just move.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the stinging salt. My arms moved first, fighting the dense resistance of the water in a heavy downward stroke. My body rose an inch. Again. I dragged my arms up and forced them down, my feet finally fluttering in a weak, desperate kick.
I breached the surface, gasping for air but choking on foam and water. My vision cleared for a split second—long enough to see the hull of a ship—before another wave crashed down, a wall of force shoving me back into the depths. My body was tossed, the world spinning into chaos. My consciousness began to darken, the edges of my vision bleeding to black.
No. Not here. Not like this.
Summoning every last ounce of strength, I kicked upward, breaking the surface one more time.
The darkness was gone. In its place, the world was burning.
Flames raged across the water, consuming the small boats. The skiff I had been on moments ago was now a bonfire; the men were gone, the vessel abandoned to the inferno.
High above, dragons wheeled through the smoke-choked sky, their shrieks piercing the night, louder than the crash of the waves.
Land. I need land.
My body obeyed, but only out of pure desperation. Each stroke was a war against the ocean, forcing me to shove the screaming agony of my ribs deep down into the dark. With every strained breath, I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. I used that sharp sting as an anchor, a tether to reality as the icy ocean slowly numbed my limbs.
The numbness had nearly taken my heart when my hand struck something solid. Sand.
I dug my fingers in, dragging myself forward one last time. The earth pressed against my body, solid and unmoving. The roar of the ocean was behind me now. I lay there, face pressed into the wet, gritty grains, breathing in the scent of smoke and kelp.
I made it.
I dragged myself from the surf, water streaming from my clothes, and immediately ripped the quiver from my shoulder. My cold, clumsy fingers fumbled with the waxed cloth, tearing it open.
The fletching was dry. It worked.
I swung the gear onto my back, sucked in a breath that burned my salt-ravaged lungs, and forced myself into a jagged sprint.
I froze.
A woman and her son, pressed tight against the rough face of a massive boulder. The boy shook violently in her arms, his face buried in her tunic.
"Mama," he cried softly, the sound barely audible over the wind. "We never should have come to look at the stars tonight."
"Shh," she whispered, smoothing his hair with trembling hands. "It’ll be alr—"
A figure emerged from the darkness behind the boulder—a man, crouching low. The red and silver moonlight glinted off the steel of his sword.
In one fluid motion, the bow was in my hand, an arrow nocked against the string. The wood of the bow hummed as I drew it back to my ear.
Loose.
The arrow whistled through the dark, striking him dead center in the skull. He crumpled instantly, hitting the sand with a dull thud.
The woman gasped, her eyes widening in horror as she pulled her son closer, shielding him with her body.
"Momma?"
She released him, cupping his chin to turn his face away from the body. Don't look," she gasped, turning his face away. "Just look at me.
A shout broke the air. "You filthy vermin!"
Another Vow member burst into view from the coastline, charging straight for them, sword raised high.
I nocked and loosed in a single, jagged breath. The recoil jarred my ribs, grinding bone against bone. The man was fast—his sword flashed, knocking the arrow from the air with a spark of steel. He spun, locking his eyes on me, and changed course. He charged, sand kicking up behind his boots.
I nocked again. Loose.
He sidestepped, the arrow grazing his shoulder.
Again.
This one found its mark, burying deep into his thigh. He let out a sharp moan, stumbling as his momentum faltered. I drew one final arrow, exhaled, and released.
It struck him dead center in the chest. He froze, staring up at the burning sky, before his legs gave out. He collapsed, folding in on himself as a dark pool spread into the white sand.
"Th-thank you," the mother whispered, her eyes wide with shock, staring at my crimson irises.
"You need to move," I said, my voice raspy. "Away from the shore, and stay out of town."
She stood frozen, paralyzed by the proximity of death. I stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her gaze met mine and she flinched, but she didn't pull away. Slowly, her muscles relaxed under my grip.
"You need to go." I pointed toward the tree-lined hill. "They are focused on the shore. You will be safe there."
She nodded weakly. The boy tugged at her shirt. "Come now," she said, her voice finding a shred of steel. She grabbed his hand and they bolted for the trees, vanishing into the shadows.
A gust of wind whipped my damp hair across my face, carrying the heat of the fires.
Hovering above the town, dominating the skyline, was a massive dragon. Its scales glowed bright crimson, etched with shifting gold patterns that seemed to burn from within.
Zarina and Mikaeus.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a war drum matching the chaos around me. I gripped my bow tighter, stepping over the body. Black spots danced in my vision, my side throbbing in time with my heartbeat, but I forced my legs to move. I sprinted toward the town, straight into the heart of the war.
This is my fight just as much as theirs.
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- Writer
