Maybe it was her, and not the isle. The once-welcoming chaos of the pirate stronghold now felt cramped. The alleys were tighter, the smells ranker, the drunken laughter grating. It wasn’t the same place she once knew, wild and burning with life.
Or maybe Esmyra just wasn’t the same woman.
She pulled her hood lower, the coarse linen scratching her brow as she drifted through the jostling crowd. The moment she’d set foot on the isle, she cloaked herself in her usual mortal guise, welcoming the small bit of comfort it brought.
A man bumped into her—a pirate with rotting teeth and blood on his collar—and muttered a half snarled curse before stumbling away.
Her body went rigid, and she almost clawed his throat open. Her fingers twitched at her side, aching to shift, to dosomething, but she reined it in.
You’re trouble, Miss Esmi, Draevyn’s words from the night on his ship floated through her memory.
The truth was… trouble had always simmered around her like a second skin. It was once the only thing that made herfeel. And shehad been numb for weeks at this point. She was desperate to feel anything. A rush of adrenaline, an urge to laugh, anorgasmfor fuck’s sake.
No, actually. Not that last one. Esmyra never wanted anyone touching her body ever again. The thought of it sent nausea rolling through her.
As she walked along the alleyway, she kicked over a merchant’s barrel on purpose, just to hear the curses rain down on her again like the old days when she frequented the isle. The days when her crew would have her back, no matter the trouble she brought to them. She even almost got into a brawl with a man twice her size just for looking at her wrong. She didn’t even plan to use magic, just wanting the feel of bones crunching beneath her fist.
But still, nothing felt right.
Eventually, Esmyra reached the steps of her favorite old tavern that sagged between two buildings. The sign above it—The Kraken’s Alehouse—creaked in the wind, a familiar shape carved into the wood: massive tentacles wrapped around a ship, bringing it to the depths.
It was only then a subtle smile curved her lips, before she exhaled slowly and pushed the door open.
The tavern was a shrine to chaos, carved from shipwrecked wood and stone. Low ceilings pressed in, strung with lanterns made from old glass bottles and bits of sea glass that shimmered green and blue in the smoky light.
It reeked of sweat, gunpowder, and cheap liquor. The floor was slick in places and sticky in others. Every surface was scarred: tables nicked with blade marks, stools chewed by the sharp heels of boots, and the bar itself tattooed with burn marks and carved names.
In one shadowy corner, someone played a fiddle, the tune drowning beneath shouting, laughter, and the occasional thud of someone’s fist meeting a face.
Esmyra stood in the doorway for a long moment, the sight and scent of it all dragging old memories to the surface.
A strange sense of longing washed over her. She had so manymemories here. Had gotten into her first fight that wasn’t aboard her ship. Stolen her first kiss from a drunken sailor hundreds of years ago and then another one from a barmaid.
This is where I met Draevyn.
The last thought had her clenching her teeth as she sucked in a sharp, painful breath.
But now this place felt like trying on an old coat that didn’t fit anymore, too tight in the shoulders and wrong at the seams. She stepped further inside, regardless of that feeling. A few heads turned, seeming wary and curious. Perhaps there was even a flicker of recognition in one or two.
Esmyra didn’t have a plan for what to do once she reached the port. She was hoping something would click in her mind once she stepped foot on the shore. Disappointment settled into her bones as she started to realize that she still felt just as lost.
She slid onto a stool at the bar, ignoring the man next to her loudly recounting a story about fighting off sirens with a fork. Esmyra smirked, knowing it was likely true since Maerinys had risen.
But the barkeep, a woman with scars across her throat and one gold tooth, raised a brow. “Sirens have been extinct for hundreds of years, you dumb brute.”
“They’re back! Swimming up from the south,” he claimed.
Esmyra’s gaze drifted to him. As he turned to meet her stare, her eyes shifted into their serpentine slits and her canines elongated into tiny fangs, all while that smirk remained curving her lips.
The man let out a gasp and leaned back so far he fell off his stool and hit the floor with a loudthud.
The barmaid lifted her fingers to her lips and sent up a loud whistle that got the attention of the surrounding men. “Get him out of here,” she ordered, and then several of them reached for the man and dragged him away.
Esmyra watched his body slide across the dirt and ale-covered floorboards, his eyes remaining locked on her, jaw agape.
“That was fun,” Kaelypso said with a cackle.
“Um, what can I get for ya, Miss?” The barmaid’s voice caught her attention.
