[The Independent Isles]
Jovi muttered a curse as his scaled form scrambled deeper into what he'd already dubbed the Pit of Despair. "Looks like this is the source," he growled, his words echoing eerily through the cavern. The sound came back warped, like something whispering from far below.
For an entire day, he descended through the dark, laying charges along the walls at measured intervals. The Manoan's beast form gave him a rare immunity to poison — without it, he would've been dead long before reaching the bottom.
The climb back up was faster. He moved hand over hand through the gloom, coiling rope as he went, marking his ascent by the lengths of line he'd used on the way down. He had just enough charges left for the surface. The constant blackness pressed against him like a weight; even his resilient body began to feel heavy, dulled by the poison's presence. When a faint glimmer of light finally appeared above, hope quickened his pulse.
Up on the surface, with the Sea Lynx anchored in the bay, Isa waited in the shelter of a jagged rock formation near the beach — their chosen point of safety for what promised to be an impressive detonation.
She pushed damp hair from her face, the ceaseless ocean spray turning her skin clammy and her eyes raw. Everything she wore was wet: boots, tunic, even the scarf knotted at her waist. The taste of salt clung stubbornly to her lips.
Yun, infuriatingly, looked comfortable. The Ulysi monk, who had guarded Isa since birth, had finally revealed her beast form — a sleek sea otter that moved through the surf as though born to it. While the rest of the crew shivered and cursed, Yun seemed almost radiant, slick fur gleaming in the gray light.
"A sea otter?" Isa muttered, half to herself. Her own beast form — black feline — was capable enough in water, but nothing like that. Aquatic strain or not, she'd never admit envy.
Yun surfaced beside her, brushing droplets from her whiskered muzzle before shifting back into human form with practiced ease. She took a moment to reclaim her clothes before giving Isa's shoulder a light, reassuring pat.
"Let's set this off," she said calmly. "Clear the cloud and claim your island."
The first hint that they'd miscalculated came the instant Isa pressed the plunger.
The ground heaved and slapped them into the air like errant flies.
Then came the fire.
Heat roared upward, blinding and absolute. Isa shifted into her beast form out of pure instinct, a strangled cry torn from her throat as the blast singed her fur. She hit the surf a heartbeat later, crashing through the waves in a haze of pain and salt. Every wound screamed as seawater met raw flesh.
"Down!" Yun's voice cut through the chaos an instant before another explosion tore the sky apart. She shoved Isa beneath the surface just as a second detonation sent a wall of ash and rock into the air.
It was as if the island itself had decided to wake and rage—each blast louder, closer, more violent.
Isa held her breath until her lungs burned, the taste of blood and salt and scorched fur filling her mouth. When she finally surfaced, coughing and gasping, the sight that met her eyes stopped her cold.
The island was a nightmare—a black storm of flame and ash, molten earth spilling from the ruptured ridge like the breath of an angry god.
"Fuck…" The word rasped out of her throat, half-growl, half-croak—inhuman and desperate.
"Don't change back," Yun warned. Her voice was ragged, her face streaked with blood. The ends of her hair were burned to the scalp, her lashes and brows completely gone.
Isa's gaze whipped across the water. "Where are the others?"
No answer. Only the hiss of burning rock as it met the sea. Her heart clenched as she turned toward the bay.
The Sea Lynx was on fire.
Flames consumed the sails, licking greedily up the masts. The deck blazed like a pyre, pieces of the ship breaking away and floating in the foaming surf. Isa could only stare as her refuge—her ship, her escape—died screaming in the distance.
**
The sleek vessel cut through the water like an aquatic predator.
At the bow, the navigator spotted a flash of light in the distance. "Get the captain!" he barked to a sailor mending the jib sail.
Before the sailor could move, the captain's cabin door swung open. A woman stepped out — slight of frame, light brown hair short enough to tuck beneath her hat, eyes already fixed on the horizon.
"Turn into it," she ordered. Her voice wasn't loud, but the navigator obeyed without hesitation.
"Aye, Captain. Turning north sixteen degrees." He squinted toward the growing haze. "Squall ahead! All hands, furl the sails and batten down the hatches! Shall we anchor, Captain?"
The captain shook her head. "Hold course."
Ember moved to the helm, one hand gripping the rail as her gaze narrowed northward. "There are no active volcanoes in the Independent Isles."
"None that I've ever heard of," Navigator Rumago agreed. "The skies were clear not fifteen minutes ago."
"Keep us pointed into it, Rum," Ember said.
They waited, tension stretching with the minutes. Then the light vanished. A black cloud roared toward them — ash and smoke swallowing both sun and sky, and behind it, a wall of water rising higher than the mainmast.
"All hands, brace for impact!" Ember shouted. She ducked low, both hands gripping the rail.
The roar of wind and water hit them like a physical thing. The ship's bow climbed skyward, tilted by the hand of the gods until it seemed the ship would stand on end — then it fell, bow-first, slamming into the sea with a deafening crack.
Timbers groaned. Ropes snapped. The hull screamed under the pressure, stretching like a drawn bow before springing back intact. Water poured across the deck, sweeping men off their feet, but the ship held.
Twice more the ocean tried to tear her apart, each wave smaller than the last, until at last the storm began to ease.
Coughing and groans replaced the roar. Ember rose, soaked and ash-streaked, scanning the deck for movement. "First Mate!"
Jax — a lean, tattooed man with a calm face and sharp eyes — staggered to his feet.
"See to the wounded and check the hull," Ember ordered.
"Aye, Captain." Jax saluted and went to work.
"What was that?" Rum croaked, voice hoarse from ash and screaming.
Ember snorted, wiping her face with a blackened sleeve. "We all look like ghosts."
The ship and her crew were coated in sticky gray ash — clinging even where the waves had washed across the deck.
"No idea, Rum," she said finally. "Maintain course. Hoist sail when you're able. And send Jax to my cabin when he's done."
She turned toward the stern, expression darkening. Whatever had happened out there, it wasn't just weather.
Ember closed her cabin door and lit the lamp, the faint flame pushing back the gloom. She poured water into the small basin, rinsed her face, then her hands. The water turned gray with ash. Opening the porthole, she dumped it into the sea and watched it swirl away.
"Let's see…" she murmured, scanning the rolled-up charts until she found the two she needed. She unrolled the first and weighed it down with a few coins, setting the second aside.
Her finger traced a small mark she'd made earlier. "This was our last heading. We altered course sixteen degrees north."
Taking up a charcoal pencil, she drew a careful line to match their new course. "That'll bring us into the northeast section of the Isles."
Ember spread the second map across the first — and stopped. "Damn."
A small island sat dead center, ringed by several black flags inked onto the parchment. The notations were old, but the warnings were clear enough: Cursed. Lethal. Uninhabitable.
A knock came at her door. "Come in."
"Captain." Jax entered, his lean frame still dusted with gray ash, the tattoos across his arms half-hidden. "Few minor injuries. One lost overboard. The ship's sound, but we'll need light repairs once we make port."
Ember frowned, her voice sharper. "One lost? Who?"
"Yoyo." Jax's tone didn't change, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Ember stared at him, then exhaled a disbelieving laugh. "Yoyo fell overboard?" She shook her head. "Of course she did."
Yoyo, the ship's doctor and cook, had all the grace of a blind, three-legged dog — and the temperament to match.
"Should we wait?" Jax asked, though he already knew the answer.
"No. She'll catch up. Toss a fish overboard every few miles to keep her entertained."
They shared a brief grin. Yoyo's beast form — a massive green sea turtle — was as indestructible as it was irritating. Even sharks gave her a wide berth, though the crew often joked it was because of her shitty personality rather than the hardness of her shell.
Jax's gaze drifted to the open charts. "That's the Poison Isles, isn't it?"
Ember nodded slowly. "Once we're close, drop mains and go in slow. If we catch even a whiff of toxins, we pull back."
Her eyes lingered on the inked black flags, the faint line of her own new course leading straight toward them. "Let's see what's hiding in there," she said softly.