The remnants of magic.
“Dear spirits.” The word left my lips like a prayer.
I ran down the path to the end and fell to my knees.
As I feared, laying there discarded behind the barrel was the crumpled, lifeless body of a sailor.
Panic rose in my throat like hot bile. I coughed, covering my nose from the stench.
It was confirmed.
Captain Elian Westin really was the infamous Wizard Pirate.
CHAPTERSEVEN
THE SIREN RETURNS
The blank face of a young sailer stared blankly back at me as I knelt over his body.
Aghast, all I could do was stare back.
He couldn’t have been out of his teens. Just a young deck hand, most likely. I bet he begged to go out with the lads, just to leave the ship for a bit, and maybe catch eyes of a pretty lass.
His face was ashen—drained of all color—and I could tell without looking at him that he was ice cold.
Rain dripped onto the both of us as the storm began to wane.
I blinked away droplets, and wondered if any of them were actually tears.
The events of the night had left me unsteady. Now, I beheld proof of the immortal pirate’s existence.
Proof.
Realization came upon me about what I had to do.
I had to bring the body back to the Colony and show the Sea-Shaman.
Despite not knowing the sailer, my heart broke for him. I imagined him stumbling down to the docks, drunk off ale, singing drinking songs, and muttering nonsensical musings. Then, I imagined Captain Westin approaching him, and stealing his life.
Merciless.
He came off as that sort—the kind who didn’t care about feelings, or emotions, and simply took what he wanted.
I shuddered, cringing. I suddenly felt sick.
I can’t believe I let him kiss me.
The kiss.
I touched my fingers to my lips. It had been way too passionate for a kiss amongst strangers.
Then, I balled my hands into fists, and looked back down at the sailor.
What an awful way to die.
Then, I remembered some of the fallen sailors on the bottom of the ocean floor, drained of their breath.
Resolved in my decision, I picked him up and tossed him over my shoulder.