Ember inhaled deeply, her sensitive nose sorting through the layered scents that hung like a haze over the devastation. The air was thick with the stench of scorched life — trees, vegetation, stone, and soil all baked and flung skyward together. What remained of the island looked less like land and more like a stew gone wrong, an overabundance of ingredients boiled down to ruin.
"I don't sense any toxins," she said finally, glancing toward her first mate, who had taken his beast form for just this reason.
Dax — a rare, spotted canine with triangular ears and a nose like polished jet — rested his paws on the rail, sniffing the wind. "There are things here that'd make a man sick if they lingered, but everything's been cooked clean and soaked in salt water."
Dawn was breaking as the ship crept forward, its bow cutting through the floating wreckage that littered the surface like driftwood graves.
"Wreckage, port side!" a crewman shouted, reaching out with a hook to snag something from the water.
A charred plank thudded onto the deck. Its shape was obvious.
Dax padded closer, nose twitching. "Deck plank," he confirmed.
"You damned whore sons…" a voice barked from the starboard side. Every nearby sailor groaned in unison.
"Leaving me in the middle of the ocean! What if something had happened? I could've been eaten!"
A slender woman treaded water beside the hull, her expression thunderous. Salt-streaked braids — bleached nearly white by the sun — floated around her face. Her eyes, the green-blue of shallow sea, flashed with fury.
A sailor extended a grappling pole toward her but looked over his shoulder, clearly dreading the next few minutes. "Do we really have to take her aboard?"
"I suppose," Ember replied, her tone dry.
If the woman minded being naked in front of the crew, she gave no sign. The moment her feet hit the deck, a torrent of curses poured from her mouth — directed at the ship, the captain, and every living soul aboard. It was a performance of remarkable stamina and creativity.
When she finally stopped for breath, Ember arched an eyebrow. "Finished?"
Yoyo — the ship's infamously indestructible doctor and cook — nodded, her anger cooling. "What the hell was that wave? Some kind of tsunami?"
"Put some clothes on, Yoyo," Dax said, padding closer. His tail flicked once, the canine equivalent of an eye-roll.
Yoyo snickered. "Caught you looking, Dax. You interested in me?"
The canine made a guttural noise that sounded suspiciously like retching.
"You'd have to pay to see a show like this in the larger ports," she added with a grin, retrieving clothes from her storage ring. She dressed without a shred of modesty while everyone — except the gulls — ignored her entirely.
Halfway through tugging on her shirt, she froze. Her instincts flared like a current through the water. "Survivors, Captain," she said, voice suddenly sharp. Bare feet slapped against the deck as she moved to the rail, scanning the debris field.
"Lupa!" Ember called.
A dark-skinned, lean man — one of the youngest aboard — was already moving. He vaulted the rail in a smooth dive, cutting into the water with barely a splash.
Yoyo leaned over the edge, shading her eyes. "How come Lupa swims so well? He's not even aquatic." She paused, grinning wickedly. "Still my type, though."
"Better stop," Dax advised dryly. His tail twitched. "You know what happens when he's stressed."
It was true. Lupa's control over his beast form — a honey badger — was shaky at best. And when the badger took over, fights usually followed.
Below, Lupa surfaced amid the floating wreckage, careful not to spook whoever still clung to life. "Pretty…" he murmured under his breath.
A young woman floated facedown against a broken mast, her hair scorched, skin blistered and pale. She clutched a sea otter tight against her chest — Yun, though he didn't know it.
Lupa rolled her gently onto her back, then wrapped an arm around both survivors, kicking hard to clear the debris. "Two survivors!" he called. "Both beastkin!"
"Beastkin?" Ember repeated, already moving toward the rail. "Dax, get men over the side. Yoyo — prep the sickbay for two."
Yoyo was already running. "On it."
The deck snapped into motion, ropes thrown, voices rising, the rhythm of rescue cutting through the morning silence. Ember's sharp eyes followed the figures in the water — one woman, one creature — drifting toward the Kingfisher.
Something about the sight gnawed at her, though she couldn't yet say why.
Ember narrowed her eyes, one hand raised against the glare. "Once we have them aboard, we'll sweep the area for any other surviv—"
Her words died mid-sentence. Something above caught her attention — a dark shape, growing fast, cutting through the sunlight like a blade. Feathers, claws, and beak, all motion and fury.
"Battle!"
Her shout cracked across the deck. The saber at her hip flashed free, gleaming silver in the dawn light.
Dax growled, hackles bristling as the shadow fell over them.
The creature struck an instant later — a giant eagle, wingspan wide enough to blot the sun. Wind roared from its descent, buffeting the crew. Its talons slammed into the deck of the Kingfisher, gouging deep furrows in the planks.
It fixed Ember with great golden eyes, blinked once, then turned toward the rail where the rescue was underway.
Before anyone could react, the transformation began. Feathers folded into flesh, the massive form collapsing inward until an old man stood where the beast had landed. His skin was bronzed by years at sea and scarred by battles long past. He slipped on a robe from his storage ring, tied it loosely, and smiled faintly.
"Found you at last," he said.
Ember didn't lower her blade. "Looking for me? You always board ships without permission?"
The old man chuckled, bowing low. His voice, when he spoke again, carried weight. "Your Highness. I am Bane — the King's Blade."
A murmur swept through the deck. Ember's expression didn't change, but her grip on the saber eased slightly. "You've been out in the sun too long, old man."
"I prefer Bane, Your Highness."
A loud snort broke the tension. Yoyo stood nearby with a stretcher under one arm, ash still streaking her face. "Who's this crazy bird? Someone get the girl on the stretcher — and carry the otter before it slips away."
Ember's attention shifted to the unconscious woman being lifted aboard. Her breath caught without warning. Something twisted deep in her chest — instinct, memory, something unnamed.
Her brow furrowed. "Who?" she asked softly.
Bane followed her gaze, his weathered face turning solemn. "The girl, Captain," he said. "That's your daughter."
"What?"
Ember froze, dark eyes wide, her breath caught in her chest. "No, she was—"
"Taken by her father," Bane interrupted softly, his tone respectful but unyielding. "Duke Duscanti of the Beastkin Empire. Fourteen years ago. She left him less than a month past, accompanied by a Ulysi monk named Yun and a few others."
The saber slipped from Ember's hand and hit the deck with a hollow clang that echoed across the Kingfisher.
She moved before she knew she was moving — crossing the deck in a blur, dropping to her knees beside the stretcher as the crew carefully lifted the young woman from the water.
Bane's words pressed against the edges of her mind, half-formed, impossible. Taken. Fourteen years. Left less than a month ago.
It all sounded mad. But the moment Ember's hand touched the girl's cold skin, the world tilted. Something deep in her chest clenched so sharply it hurt to breathe.
"What is her name?" she whispered.
"Isadora," Bane answered. "Though she goes by Isa now."
Ember's throat tightened. She couldn't tear her gaze away. Salt and ash streaked the girl's face, and yet… there it was. The faintest trace of something achingly familiar in her brow, her jaw — even in the stubborn line of her mouth.
Bane said nothing more as Ember followed the stretcher below deck, his expression unreadable. He knew better than to speak Dem's name now. Too many questions waited in the shadows between mother, daughter, and the missing son.
How had Dem survived the streets of Thaigmaal while his mother sailed the seas as a pirate queen? What twists of fate had scattered the Rat King's bloodline to the winds?
Until he understood, he would hold his silence.
Behind him, Dax shifted back to human form, pulling on his clothes with practiced ease. "We'll start a sweep for survivors."
"There are none," Bane said quietly. "Seven bodies nearby. The sea has claimed the rest."
Dax nodded, tone subdued. "Then we'll bring the seven aboard. I want this done by noon."
Bane turned toward the ashen horizon. "A wise choice. The sea buries her secrets quickly."