Under a pall of frustration, Captain Kinsley Lafitte stalked back down the gangplank of the Lioness. Aazor's port was as mean and threadbare as he remembered.
His fists clenched. He'd promised his crew …If he could avoid keeping them away from their families again, he would. He would not drag them back out on false hope - that this would be the last of his attempts to find something valuable enough in the rotting realm that Gorgo would accept.
The Lioness rocked gently against her moorings. She still smelled like tar and salt and the spices Bonnie tucked away in her quarters. Kinsley untied the closest stern line and began to haul the thick rope aboard, palms burning. He could handle her alone if he had to.
"What in the hell are you doing?" Bonnie's voice snapped across the deck before he could loose the bow line. Her boots thudded as she crossed from the pier. Hands on her hips, she glared at him, hair sticking to her forehead in damp red curls.
He grimaced and kept working. "Getting the Lioness out before the morning wind dies."
"By yourself?" She snorted. "You'll run her aground at the first shallow. And what—leave me here to watch the fisherfolk starve while you go chasing ghosts?"
He rolled his shoulders, anger and determination warring. "I'm not asking any of you to give up another three months of your lives because of me. You have husbands and children. You have soil here that might grow something if Salacia stops poisoning it. I can manage her alone."
"You can't," Bonnie said evenly. "And you don't get to decide that for us. Don't you dare turn martyr on us."
Before he could answer, footsteps echoed on the dock behind her. Nestor appeared, swaying only slightly, his dark hair falling loose over his shoulders instead of the normal greasy knot. He wasn't carrying a bottle. His eyes were clear. Kinsley's pulse faltered.
"Nestor," Kinsley said, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Sober? You must have run out of coin."
Nestor grinned, but it held no real mirth. "I'm not a big drinker," he replied.
"You're too slow, Kinsley," Nestor continued, leaning one shoulder against a bollard. "You'll never find Isla Rhea. You don't need to bring Gorgo jewels to appease her. You don't need treasures at all."
Kinsley barked a humorless laugh. "She'll snap our spines if we arrive empty-handed. That's how she treats outsiders who waste her time." He let the rope coil slowly back to the dock.
Nestor shrugged. "What if I offered something she wanted? Like a new corpse to turn into a servant? Would that satisfy you?"
The words cut. Memories surfaced of two boys racing each other up the rigging of a different ship, laughing, dreaming about charting every ocean. Kinsley's jaw clenched. "Why would you do that?"
Nestor's expression turned almost wistful. "Maybe I'm tired. Maybe I owe Kaen something for a life lived in his shadow. Maybe I've been a ghost too long, bothering everyone with my existence. This way, I pay the debt with my life for what I've to you, and you get what you want."
Bonnie's eyes widened, but Kinsley felt a cold, empty place open in his chest. He didn't say he cared about Nestor's life. He didn't say he hoped it wouldn't come to that. He simply met Nestor's gaze and said, "I will accept it."
Nestor smiled faintly, as if a weight had already lifted, and pushed himself away from the bollard. "Then you don't need to sail alone. You'll have your gift for the fish, and I—"
"Don't call her that," Kinsley snapped. The wind hissed through the rigging.
Nestor just shrugged again. "Let's not waste time, then. When you leave, I'm coming with you." Bonnie gave Kinsley a long, searching look, and he saw the questions behind her eyes: whether he would allow this, whether he would regret it, whether the man he loved was worth this.
He swung the line back over the post and secured it with a hard jerk. "We leave at dawn," he said, voice rough. "Both of you are aboard. And, Nestor? Don't be drunk." He turned away, throat tight, and busied himself with the mundane tasks of preparation, anything to keep from thinking about the cost of what he'd just agreed to.
***
They left at dawn. The sea was slate grey, the waves heavy. Kinsley took the helm, Bonnie securing the lines, Nestor standing near the bow, face set. They sailed west through fog and past the reef that guarded Aazor's bay. After hours on open water, the fog thinned to reveal the low, rocky outline of Gorgo's island.
It was not beautiful. Slick, black stones jutted from the water like broken teeth. Dead kelp draped over the rocks, waving lazily in the current. A single narrow beach of pebbles and shells curved around a cove. At its edge hunched a figure.
Gorgo sat cross-legged in the wet sand, long, ropey threads of kelp dangling from her head where hair used to flow. Her skin was pallid, almost translucent in places, stitched along the thighs where the mottled flesh of her legs joined her hips. The proportions were wrong, the knees too knobby, the ankles slightly bent inward. She wore simple linen rags and worked a shell onto a length of twine with practiced hands. No one else was in sight.
Kinsley's heart hammered. He remembered Gorgo as Kaen's brilliant sister, laughing, hair green and eyes brighter. The woman before him looked like a revenant. He dropped to his knees as he splashed ashore, his hands and forehead pressed into the wet shingle.
"Princess," he whispered.
Gorgo didn't look up. She finished threading the shell and tied it off.
He lifted his head and met her eyes. They were still striking, the colour of the calm sea. "I have no right to ask, but I have to try. I brought you… nothing. Only myself and—" he gestured to Nestor behind him "—my companion's life, should you wish it."
Her fingers stilled. "My Mullanos are missing livers," she said, seemingly apropos of nothing. "Without them, their souls cannot be anchored in the ether. Three Mullanos. Three livers. Three souls for three servants. My servants."
In the sand beyond her, three small mounds lay. Kinsley didn't want to imagine what slept beneath.
"Take mine," he blurted, desperation burning through him. "Take my liver. Take whatever you need. Just tell me where he is." The words came out harsher than intended. He would offer anything. His crew. His ship. His own flesh.
"Do you plan to defile my brother's body?" she asked coolly.
"No," Kinsley said firmly. "I just… He left without saying goodbye. He broke my heart then and I don't even know where he rests."
She tilted her head. "My brother never did anything without a reason. If he didn't say goodbye, perhaps he didn't want to. Perhaps he didn't want you to find his resting place."
Anger flared. "Bring him back," Kinsley said, the plea raw. "You have the power. You use dead flesh like weaving yarn. How can you sit here and watch everything rot—your realm dying, your brother dead—and do nothing? All those rumours… they can't just be whispers. Kaen never let me see what you can do, but I know. I know you can. I look at you and I know."
Gorgo turned to Nestor, her gaze sliding over Bonnie. "You believe everything you hear?" she asked Kinsley, ignoring his question. "Maybe he didn't want me to bring him back. He asked me, near the end, never to resurrect him. Do you want me to break my vow because you can't bear your own heart? Your life is short, pirate. Go live it. Leave the dead in peace."
"I could say the same to you," Kinsley shot back. "Sitting here with corpses in the sand. Letting them keep you company instead of the living."
Her eyes narrowed. She rose, slow and ungainly, her patched legs creaking as bone and sinew shifted. She hobbled toward him and, without warning, seized him by the throat. Her grip was strong, her nails digging into his skin. He gasped. Bonnie moved, hand on dagger, but Nestor gripped her wrist and shook his head. Heat radiated from Gorgo's touch, but it was the heat of rot.
"Enough," Nestor said quietly, stepping between them. "Princess, emotions are running high. We came to ask for your help. We don't want a fight." He turned to Kinsley. "We'll go if you wish."
"What about your promise?" Kinsley choked, voice rasped from her grip. He tried to pry her fingers loose, but she held fast.
Nestor's face was pale. He met Gorgo's gaze. "Princess," he said again, softer. "If I stay here, with you, will you tell him where Kaen lies? Let him pay his respects? That's all he really wants."
She loosened her grasp. Kinsley stumbled back, rubbing his throat. Bonnie let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. The three of them stood amid broken shells and lapping waves, waiting for a resolution they all knew would not satisfy Kinsley.
Gorgo's lips curved into something like a smile—a humourless twist. "His body is with the Vlax Kaeni," she said.
It took Kinsley a heartbeat to realise she had granted what he asked.
He swallowed. "Thank you," he said.
As they retreated toward the boat, Nestor hung back for a moment. Gorgo didn't look up, but her fingers brushed his as he passed.
"Well," Kin said, not noticing the gesture. "Be well."
Nestor offered a sad, pitiful smile. "You too."
***
The Lioness's hull groaned as Kinsley Lafitte guided her away from Gorgo's island. The Seventh Sea lay almost flat beneath the moon, but Kinsley knew its traps: pockets of sudden calm that hid whirlpools hungry for ships and men. He set the course by habit, hands light on the wheel. His mind was heavier.
Beside him, Bonnie stood with her arms crossed, hair whipped back by the wind.
"So that's it?" she asked, her voice like the rasp of rope through salt‑wet hands. "You left him there with that witch."
"He offered," Kinsley snapped, eyes fixed ahead. Nestor's laughter still rang in his ears.
"Don't lie to yourself," Bonnie said. "The Kinsley who loved Kaen would never abandon a friend for his own gain."
"My gain?" He spun on her. "You think this is about me? This realm is dying under Salacia's storms."
Bonnie's eyes softened. "The realm was here before us, and it will be here long after we're gone. You need Kaen. Don't twist it."
She turned away, but her words stayed. Kinsley tightened his grip on the wheel. He thought of Nestor's pleading smile, of Gorgo's lifeless kelp hair, of Kaen's eyes the last time they had met. A vision of the living king. A vision he couldn't shake.
Yes, he felt like a fool. For most of his life. First, he was abandoned by his parents, left to die at sea, then he scrambled for every meal, until a girl with red hair offered him a steamed dumpling and did not ask for anything in return. Bonnie took care of him, Bonnie suggested they learn a trade and start sailing to bring fish into this town, to discover the wonders of the oceans. Now, the same girl who was kindness itself, told him he was a bad person.
But Bonnie - she could never understand. All these years, he had never seen her kiss a boy or a girl once. He had never seen her eyes swim with the poison of love. He didn't know who siphoned romance out of her, whether she had always been like this, or whether some terrible creature broke her heart so thoroughly it could never be mended. All he knew was that when Kaen loved him, the foolishness of his life, the meaningless days turned full and meaningful. Kaen must have had a reason for breaking up with him, for pushing him away. And if breaking the laws of chaos was the price he had to pay, Kin would gladly do it to get his answers.
A scream cut through his thoughts. He jerked around. Out on the water, not far from the Lioness, three shapes thrashed in one of those deceptively smooth patches. A whirlpool's blind spot had them. One figure was a girl clutching a limp body; beside them a silver creature – shimmering scales, long serpentine body – struggled to keep them afloat.
"Drop sail!" Kinsley barked. "Bonnie, grapple!"
Ropes unfurled. Bonnie flung a hook into the water. The beast reared, hissing, then wrapped the rope in its claws. Together, they hauled the trio toward the Lioness. The whirlpool burbled, intent on its prey, but Kinsley's hands were steady and his crew strong. They dragged the girl and man over the gunwale. The creature flopped onto the deck and collapsed, a shimmering mass of scales that began to shrink.
The girl coughed seawater, her dark hair plastered to her face. She held onto the man – young, golden‑skinned – like he was her last tether. His eyes were shut, his skin fever‑hot. "Thank you for rescuing us," she gasped, voice raw from screaming.
Kinsley stared. The silver creature at his feet shivered. Its scales melted into fur, its snout shortened, claws retracted. In seconds a small cat sat before him. Silver fur glittered, eyes bright like melted steel.
A cat?
Bonnie stared too, mouth half open. The cat shook itself, as though shrugging off the ocean. It padded to the man's side and placed its head on his chest, purring in odd metallic clicks.
"Who are you?" Kinsley asked. The girl looked up, and even soaked and shivering, she held herself with a strange dignity.
"My name is Milada," she said, glancing at the unconscious man. "This is my brother, Areilycus. And this," she added, stroking the cat's head, "is Zora. We owe you our lives."
On the deck of the Lioness, with a storm‑scarred sea behind them and an uncertain world ahead, Kinsley felt a thread tug deep inside - as if he'd stepped into one of Gorgo's fated knots and pulled at a thread he could no longer release.