The cannons kept firing—black iron balls tearing through the air, churning the sea into foam and fury. The sound of them was a rhythm, a heartbeat, a thing that had been waiting for this moment and was now, at last, being used.
"Kill the fish first!" Toric's order rang across the deck, sharp and clear and final.
Seven vessels loaded and fired. Reloaded and fired. The strange being slithered through the deep, evading each shot with unnatural grace that spoke of centuries spent in waters where the only law was hunger and the only judgment was speed. Its body moved like water, like smoke.
Ashan's eyes swirled. Grey-white whirlpools scanning, searching, hunting. The patterns of the sea unfolded before him, the currents, the shadows, the spaces where something was hiding.
Where is it?
The Krakhan school did not last. Cannonballs found their marks, the impacts sending shockwaves through the water, the blood trailing behind them like crimson ribbons that dissolved and spread and became nothing. One by one, the beasts sank into the deep, their bodies falling, their lights going out.
The survivors stopped chasing. Turned back. Fled.
"Throw the net! We're catching it!" Toric's voice was hungry. Dunstan looked at Ashan. Waiting. Ashan did not answer. Watched.
The nets fell from the ships, their weights dragging them down, their ropes playing out. Water swallowed them. "Shit! It broke free!" "Can't catch it!" "Too fast!" "Then kill it! Open—"
Ashan tapped Toric's shoulder. "Don't." Absolute. Final. Toric stepped back.
Ashan snatched a net from a nearby pirate. Threw. The rope burned in his grip as the net sank, caught, held. The strain sang through his arms, his shoulders.
Its movements are slowing. Wounded.
The creature slithered against the pull. Ashan pulled back. Jerked. Splash. The net tore—but the creature flew. Arc through the air. Crash onto the deck.
Everyone stepped back. Even Ashan.
"In the name of the Lord of Storms..." The whisper came from somewhere in the crowd. "What IS that?" "I don't know. I don't WANT to know."
Pirates on the other ships stared—fear and amazement tangled in their voices, their eyes, their bodies.
The creature was beautiful. Upper body: half female human. Sculpted features. Long dark green hair spilling like seaweed. Lower body: serpent—thick, dark green tail coiling, slithering, the scales catching the torchlight. Hands ended in sharp claws. The upper body was draped in weeds and plants, hiding feminine curves while suggesting them.
Hiss. Hiss. A long tongue flickered, tasting the air, tasting the fear. Dark green serpent eyes glared—venomous, intelligent, furious.
But something marred the beauty. A hideous wound cut from her lower chin to her left cheek. Dark green blood oozed from her tail.
"I think we could keep her as a pet." "What are you, stupid?" A pirate stepped forward. Eyes hungry. Not for battle. "Stay put, bitch." The creature's tongue lashed. Dark green liquid sprayed. Touched his hand. "HOT! BURNING! SOMEONE—" His hand dissolved. Flesh flaking. Drying. Dying. "Toric. Cut it off. Throw him overboard." "Aye, Captain!" The scream followed the splash.
Ashan stepped forward. Dunstan tried to follow. His legs would not move. None of the pirates could move. Fear had rooted them to the deck. This was not battle. This was something older. Something primal.
Ashan stood a few feet from the creature. It hissed. Tongue flickering. Warning. He smiled. Calm. Serpent to serpent.
"I don't know if you understand what I'm saying. But you're dying." His eyes glinted—not grey-white now, but something else. Something old. "Sleep."
The creature's eyes flickered. Confusion. Recognition. Something passing between two sets of serpent eyes. It hissed—low, almost submissive—and collapsed.
Ashan tried to lift it. Damn. Heavy. Prana surged through his limbs. Strength multiplied. The creature rose in his arms. "Continue sailing." "Yes, Captain!"
The creature disappeared into the captain's cabin. Whispers spread across the deck. "What will he do with it?" "Maybe he fell in love at first sight." "I heard stories. Sailors. Pirates. Falling for sea creatures." "WORK!" Toric's shout scattered them. "Damn good-for-nothings!"
Dunstan came to his side. "Captain's fearless."
Toric took out his chilim. Long drag. Smoke curling, rising, dissolving.
"I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up commanding that thing too." Dunstan's lips curved. "Sure."
.....
In the captain's cabin...
Ashan laid the creature on his cushions. Heavy. Very heavy. His eyes swirled. Information blossomed:
[RACE: Rakshasa]
[SPECIES: Naga]
[RANK: Bodnir]
More information followed. The creature—nagin, female—had a name. A society. A life. Intelligent rakshasa. With culture. With civilization.
His expression darkened. I've learned something new. The limits of [Analyse] and [Memory Drive]. The difference between them. I can't analyze a being who has guarded its own intentions. Like this rakshasa. Her mind is like a jagged diamond.
[Analyse] come short at these types of beings. Hmm. A vital information to know about my own powers.
He set the thought aside and reached for a wooden chest. Pulled out a bottle.
Cork popped.
Medicinal scent filled the cabin. Suryazar soldiers have good supplies.
He poured the liquid onto her wounded tail.
Spread it with careful fingers.
Soft. Clinical.
Should I kill her?
Her vestige would fetch a good price. Her body—rakshasa flesh—could be crafted into fine weapons.
Or... what if I let her live? Can I control her? Trust her? Reach an understanding?
He set the bottle aside. Settled onto the cabin floor. Entered sadhana.
Wait for now.
.....
Three days later.
The fleet sailed toward their final target. Ashan's sadhana continued—greed by day, lust by night. The sin cycle is turning, the energies flowing.
Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.
Something tightened around him. Constricting. Crushing. He opened his eyes. Dark green venomous glare. Forked tongue flickering near his face. The nagin had him wrapped in her tail.
Someone once said not to trust a snake. Especially a female one. His lips curled. Dark amusement.
He did not struggle. Did not fight. Did not do any of the things that a man with a serpent coiled around him should do. He waited. Her eyes searched his face, looking for fear, looking for weakness, looking for the thing that would tell her that he was prey and she was predator.
She found nothing. The coils tightened. He did not move. The tongue flickered closer, tasting his skin, his breath. He held her gaze. Serpent to serpent.