I’m the only woman on board. A sudden wave of unease sweeps over me. My first thought? A stowaway. Someone who'd slipped past my crew.
I head down to the main deck and catch sight of them—mermaids. They swim alongside my ship, laughing and leaping from the water like dolphins. They’re beautiful. Far more so than sirens. Sirens are all teeth and claws, pale skin stretched over sharp bones, alien eyes and scaled flesh. Weapons born of the sea. Mermaids, though? They can be sweet, when they choose to be. Creatures of charm and color, their satin hair flowing like ribbons in the tide, skin glowing under the sun, eyes glittering in every hue. Their tails shimmer in pastel tones, like seashells made flesh.
My men lean over the edge of the ship, slack-jawed, catcalling, practically falling overboard to get a better look. I roll my eyes. Idiots. Risking their lives for a chance to flirt with something that would never let them close. Men really aren’t the smartest creatures in the sea.
I glance down at the map and the black spots are gone. “Shit. We’ve gone off course,” I mutter under my breath. My boots slam against the deck as I charge up to the helm. The wheel is abandoned. No one at post.
I snap my gaze across the deck and there he is. Sully. Leaning over the edge of the ship, making doe eyes at the mermaids like a damn fool. I storm toward him, grab the back of his collar, and shove him aside. “Back to your post,” I growl. He stumbles, muttering an apology, like he's drunk. Useless.
I quickly make my way back to the wheel, trying to get us back on track. Nothing. No black spots. I shift the course again. Stillnothing. The mermaids laugh behind me, taunting, high-pitched giggles that pierce straight through my skull. Fury burns hot beneath my skin. We lost the path. Because of him.
I storm over to Sully, fury coursing through me, and slap him hard across the face. “You idiot! You lost our heading so you could flirt with mermaids you’ll never touch,” I hiss. The crew falls silent at my outburst.
I’ve always had a temper. While my father taught me to fight, my mother taught me how to deliver a slap that stings both pride and skin.
“Sorry, Captain. Won’t happen again,” Sully mutters, a sour sneer twisting his face. I step closer, the power in my voice making up for my small frame. I might be short, but I carry more command in the tip of my pinky than most men hold in their entire spine. “No,” I say coolly. “It won’t. Scrub the decks.”
“You can’t be serious,” Sully has the nerve to say, letting out a cocky little laugh.
“I’ve never been more serious,” I snap. “You don’t understand what you’ve cost us. You’ll pay for it with labor. Now get to it. And don’t test me.”
I spin on my heel before he can open that arrogant mouth again, fury still simmering beneath my skin. My eyes drop to the map just in time to see the parchment shift, darkening into a deep, solid black. My gaze flicks to the horizon.The Leviathan, Kai’s ship, is there looming in the distance, unmoving, like it has been waiting. Waiting for me. The map doesn’t fade. It stays black as I turn the wheel toward him. What in the hells does he have to do with this?
Smith steps up beside me, his voice low, dry, and far too amused. “Looks like you found what you truly desire.”
Chapter five
Kai
Hollow Decks
Stepping aboard the kappas’ ship, dark magic seeps through every crack. These creatures are half-man, half-monstrosity, once drowned, dragged back to the surface by the ocean, their flesh twisted into something inhuman. Resurrection is agony, bones cracking, skin splitting, lungs collapsing only to regrowwith gills, claws sprouting where fingers once were. No man survives that kind of death unless he’s already gone. The kappas aren’t alive, not truly. They breathe air they shouldn’t, living contradictions of death and life, bound to the ocean’s will. For them to walk the surface at all means something is broken, an imbalance deep within the ocean.
What makes them dangerous isn’t only their claws or their unnatural bodies, but their bond to the deep. They’ve mated with sirens, forged connections that left them less man, more monster, and far too attuned to the sea. The ocean doesn’t forgive, and neither do they. With their secrets, their ancient knowledge, they are an army born of dark magic and bone. An army that cannot die. Behead them, and they’ll only grow anew.
Maybe I should consider an alliance after all. They hear things. They know things. The only question is, can they be trusted? Or are they just another piece in the ocean’s endless, merciless game? Something vile churns beneath the surface.
“Son, take a seat. Make yourself at home,” the captain says, gesturing to a chair fashioned from whale bone and algae. I sit, keeping my eyes on the ship around me. It’s skin and bone, literally. An eerie carcass of a vessel that somehow stays afloat, despite the water that trickles through the walls and the gaping holes in its hull. It looks like it was wrecked long ago and dragged back from the bottom by something that refused to let it die. Just like its crew.
I glance back at the captain. “What’s your name?” I ask. “We never exchanged, but you know mine. Seems only fair I know yours.”
A smirk pulls at the somewhat good half of his face. The other side is missing, eaten away or never returned to him. “Varn,” he says. “Name’s Varn. I’ve captained this ship for the last seven hundred and fifty years.”
Shock punches through me, hard. Seven hundred and fifty years? That’s ancient, even sea beasts don’t last that long. I steady myself. “Alright then, Varn,” I say, leaning forward, elbows on my knees. “What kind of deal did you have in mind?”
“Your scar,” Varn says, his tone steady, touched with something cold. “The one running down your right arm, it’s not just a wound. It’s a key.” I freeze. “It will start to grow things,” he continued, gazing unblinkingly. “Claws. Teeth. Pieces of her. The siren who gave you that scar has passed, and now, parts of her will begin to emerge through you. Rare fragments, laced with her power. When you reach the fountain, you’ll need them. They must be cast into the water to unlock its magic, proof that the siren trusted you with herself. Only then will the fountain trust you in return.” He leans in, his single eye gleaming with something unreadable.
“When they start to show,” he murmurs, “pull them out. Keep them safe. Do not lose them. Do not share them. They’re yours. And now, they’re mine too. Because I’ve shared this truth with you, you will help me make a wish.” He shifts in his seat, and only then do I notice the table between us. It’s covered in strange objects, sea-worn trinkets, glass vials glowing faintly, flickering in the low light. Each one shimmers with droplets of rain, like the ocean had cried into them herself.
My brow lifts, suspicion threading through my voice. “And what would you wish for?”
Varn’s eye hardens. For a moment, something flickers there, regret, maybe. Or exhaustion so deep it feels older than the sea itself. “I wish to be free of this cursed existence,” he says quietly. “I’ve lived longer than any man should, trapped in an endless loop, bound to the ocean, unable to die. I am the longest-living creature in the sea, but that’s no gift. It’s a sentence.”
He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle. “I want it to end. I want freedom. True death. Peace. That is my wish. Youwill grant it, no matter the cost. That is our deal: I give you the truth, and in return, you help me break the bond.” His voice is steady, but I can hear it, the centuries of torment buried beneath every word, echoing in the silence that follows.
A strange wave of pity rolls through me. I can’t fathom the torment of being trapped in a body that isn’t your own for seven hundred and fifty years, bound to a life you never chose, never wanted. To crave death and be denied rest… It's a fate more brutal than any I’ve known. I wonder if, in all that time, Varn had loved ones. A family long gone. A love lost to the waves. Maybe he still dreams of them. Maybe that’s the worst part. The weight of it settles on me, heavy and quiet. Agreeing to share the fountain wasn’t part of my plan. But I can’t ignore the truth that having these creatures on our side, creatures bound to the sea in ways I’ll never understand, might be the twist we need. The one thing that tips the odds. However, allying with them is risky; they’re unpredictable and violent creatures.
If I help them, they’ll help us. I steel myself, locking down the flicker of hesitation in my chest. “I’ll make a deal with you,” I say, my voice firm. Steady. Decided.
