Page 7 of Daughter of the Dark Sea
Jet-black sails fluttered in the wind as her ship aligned sideways with the narrow pass. Lancers were armed at the starboard side, black spears glistening in the sun, along with archers, their bowstrings taut and arrows nocked. The thunder of cannons loaded by the gunners reverberated throughout the ship.
Demon Sea Sirenstruggled to sail through, its masts splintering and shattering completely all the way down. The main sail tore in half and listlessly hung, no longer able to catch a breeze. Cracks splintered the wood, the side sails catching on the rocks and tearing holes in the fabric. Satisfaction filled Kora as the pirates broke their uniformity, yelling atHell’s Serpent, who aimed at them with the full might of their artillery.
“Fire!” Kora bellowed, her voice straining as it ripped from her throat with vengeance. The ocean’s surface crested, like a tunnel spearing for their foe, and her core lurched with the movement, as if an extension of herself shot from her flesh before vanishing.
Blake echoed her command to the brig and the archers fired first, their movements powerful yet fluid, effortlessly volleying arrows. The pirates scattered like cockroaches as they sprinted away from the forecastle deck, cries ringing out.
The lancers swiftly followed, their lethal, sharp spears tearing the wood and foremast sails. Guts of pirates spilled as they were pierced by dark spears, their ribboned entrails pinned to their doomed ship. Blood exploded, splattering across the deck, stark against the royal-blue clothing and rich mahogany wood. Finally, the cannons blasted. Rocks broke apart, and the pass crumbled, collapsing ontoDemon Sea Siren.
Her crew were relentless, firing one after the other in trained, tactical succession, all perfectly timed, giving the other a chance to reload.
Yet . . . something stirred deep inside her as the massacre ofDemon Sea Sirenunfurled. A tingle snaked across her skin, filling her with apprehension. This was what she’d been trained for. Why did she feel like something was wrong?
“Look,”the voice stroked Kora’s mind, and she released a shuddering breath asDemon Sea Sirenwas demolished, pirates’ screams submerged beneath the sea. She shoved her doubt to the back of her mind as something pulled her gaze to the west.The three remaining ships were sailing directly towards . . . Galen.Why were they sailing there? She hurried to the edge, placing her hands on the wide railing and squinting against the harsh light of the sun.
No.
Surely they wouldn’t sail into the Mist? They’d be caught in its tendrils, unable to proceed or return, suspended in a cloak of nothing. Kora leaned forward, straining to see across the vast blue miles. Heat shimmered off the ocean surface, and sweat, dust, and dirt coated her body, hair, and clothes.
Gods, she was so hot. She was so thirsty. She’d drink the ocean water at this point.
This had to be a mirage. The remaining pirateshadto be in the archipelagopreparingfor another attack. Her heart pounded with adrenaline, her uncertain fear wallowing in the depths ofher stomach, not daring to reveal itself to her crew. This couldn’t be over already. They werepirates, driven by murderous bloodlust.
“They’re going into the Mist,” Blake appeared beside her, his walk near silent. “It’s suicide.”
Shock slackened his face, as the elegantly built rear ofFallen Angeldisappeared into the vapid Mist. They would be lost forever, wandering the endless grey void. His hands, a hair’s breadth away from Kora’s, were coated in dust from the rock explosions, and slick with oil from helping archers light their arrows.
“I don’t understand,” Kora spoke in hushed tones, the steady course of adrenaline draining away, as exhaustion crept in. “If they sail into the Mist, they’ll die. No vessel can pass the barrier.”
The Mist was a blessing, but also a curse. It kept the enemy in, but it kept the empire out, too. Her head pounded and she licked her dry lips, tasting blood. She gently brushed her fingers over her mouth, where a small, stinging cut was already clotting.
“We don’treallyknow that for sure. We’ll need to report this,” Blake said roughly. “If the pirates are allying with Galen. There must be a reason for sailing intothat.”
At least it confirmed she wasn’t hallucinating. But pirates forging an alliance withGalen? This meant trouble, and not the fun kind.
Erick’s tales about the Galenite War swirled around in her mind. The Galenites had captured countless Azarian innocents, dragging them to their lifeless island to torture. To turn them against their own families, who remained devoted to the Talmon Empire. To turn them into weapons of destruction.
When the Mist came, trapping them in their soulless wasteland of an island, the conflicts instantly ceased, and the Galenite War ended. Peace returned after two long wars. All thatremained were rebels in favour of Galen—and pirates. And soon, Kora would eradicate them all.
She had a personal stake in this. Her new life depended on it. She wanted peace and comfort, and to know she did all she could to avenge her previous life in order to move on with her new one. To ensure what happened to her, would never happen to anyone else.
It’d been ten years. Her memory was never coming back, of that she was sure. What mattered now was the present. Why else would Erick spend countless hours training her? Honing her into the ultimate weapon on the sea. The drive to follow in his footsteps, as a formidable force against the rebels, was all-consuming. A raging red haze sometimes blanketed her mind, and she would lose herself in grief for people, and a life, she couldn’t remember.
A totally, super normal response to her ‘trauma,’as Erick liked to call it.
Erick had taken her in, and shaped her anger into something tangible. Ten years of gruelling training, and endless readings about the history of the wars and islands until her eyeballs spun in their sockets. Each day, she was one step closer to her goal, but now it had sailed away.
“Maybe they didn’t want to face the wrath of the armada’smost fearsomeship.” A grin lit up her face.
Blake rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Kora drank him in, noticing the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Wet hair framed his gaunt face from rationing, and dust covered his ripped shirt, along with a thin, bloody gash on his forearm.
“Blake! Why didn’t you say anything? You,there!” She snapped her fingers at the sailor with the bleeding forehead and he stepped forward, a slight tremor still shaking him. “Fetch some healing supplies quickly, and something for yourself.” Shepointedly glanced at his head. His gaze flickered at Blake before nodding as he hurried to locate the healer.
“I’ll be fine,” Blake sighed. “It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch, my arse. Sit down. Now.”
Blake thudded down at the top of the steps as the sailor returned with supplies, a bandage haphazardly placed on his head, presumably by the healer. Muscled flesh peeked through Blake’s torn jerkin, and she admired his strong frame as he unbelted his cutlass sword and carefully placed it beside him.
