Page 136 of Cursebreaker

I don’t let another moment pass. I swing my leg over the unicorn’s back, and a pang of grief stings my chest when I think about how proud Jack would be if he could see me now.

The unicorn tears through the sand and the muck as I race toward the harbor. All around, blood calls out to me, humming, insistent. It stains the waves crimson, colors the sand scarlet. Splatters the unicorn’s coat, my face. Almost there, I tell myself as the screams of the people of Ember roil my stomach. Just a little farther.

My vision narrows on the harbor, where troops of Underlings swarm the docks. I search frantically for an unattended jolly boat.

My heart leaps. There, leaning against the first post of the dock—a skipper, just like the one Leo taught me to ride.

I jump from the unicorn’s back and roll into the sand. I’m on my feet in seconds, grabbing hold of the skipper and trudging out into the water.

A nearby Gore charges for me, but the instant the soles of my boots are on the skipper, I take off, gliding over the waves at a dizzying speed. I skim between the hulls of our ships and Morana’s, the blast of cannon fire rattling in my chest.

The Starchaser comes into view, and a sob hitches in my throat at the sight of the canary-yellow flag waving in the dull gray light of morning, embroidered with a tenth silver star.

A star for Jack.

Something whizzes past my ear, and a shard of flaming debris torches the single sail of the skipper. I dive into the water just as the skipper catches fire. For a moment, I’m tossed by the swell, but I focus on the presence of the Starchaser—wood that now feels as familiar to me as the water itself.

My hand grazes the hull, and I kick, pushing toward the surface. When my head breaks above the waves, a ladder is already waiting for me.

I climb, my muscles groaning with the effort to support not just my arsenal of weapons, but also the weight of Cursebreaker strapped to my back. Charlie waits for me at the top, pulling me onto the ship.

“Nice of you to join us,” he shouts over the din of battle.

But then his arms are around me, lifting me off the ground. Not much time has passed since I crossed over into Elysia and back, but by the way Charlie squeezes me tight, I know they’ve been through enough.

Elsie is right. I have to finish this—now.

“Titus?” I ask as Charlie sets me back on my feet. I scan the decks, searching for him among the crew, but when I meet Charlie’s stare, my stomach sinks.

“He’s probably still on the island,” he says, glancing over my shoulder at the shores of Ember.

I try to gather my bearings, but the vibration of impact nearly knocks me off my feet as a cannonball rips through the hull of the Starchaser.

The largest ship in Morana’s fleet, the ship bearing the flag of the Deathwail, draws near. Eliza stands near the taffrail on the Starchaser, sweat beading on her forehead as Lewis holds her arms steady. A ball of fire barely misses the Starchaser, crashing into the ship nearest to us, setting it ablaze. Eliza manages to redirect the second, and it splashes into the water, extinguished with a loud hiss. The third burns through our mainsail.

I attempt to take a deep breath, but thick smoke chokes the air. Ash rains down like snow, covering the Starchaser in a layer of white powder. Even as the crew moves about the ship, even as Mother barks orders, even as Henry readies his bow and Gabriel draws his swords, it’s as if I am standing in the eye of the storm. Untouched. Unseen. Useless as I watch the people of Ember flee for the harbor only to be met by more Underlings—as I watch the fleet decimated by the fiery onslaught.

Every home I have ever known has been destroyed by fire. The Lightbringer. Bludgrave. Now the Red Island.

I clench my fist. Set my jaw.

We were supposed to be safe here.

The new Deathwail draws closer. I can see the Underlings preparing the gangplank, readying to board our ship. I can hear Mother, calling the crew members of the Starchaser to arms, preparing them to protect our position, to not let the Underlings slip past our defenses and into the hull, where the innocents who cannot fight for themselves will be hiding. But I feel as if I’ve stepped into a world apart. Above the boom of the cannons and the sound of Mother’s voice, there’s a buzzing in the air—a drumming, like thousands of hearts all beating at once. My bones tremble. My teeth vibrate.

A single raindrop splatters on the tip of my nose.

I draw my cutlasses, forged from Elysian Iron, glimmering green and blue and purple in the flickering dance of flames.

When the gangplank connects our two ships and the Underlings surge onto the Starchaser like a swarm of giant, gruesome insects, I am faster.

Against my mother’s orders to hold the ship, I charge across the gangplank, cutting down Gores and Shifters and possessed corpses with nimble, precise strikes. And with every swing, the humming in my chest grows louder, more intense. The beast inside claws at my rib cage, roars in my skull, rips into my throat with teeth like venomous daggers.

Blood coats my hands, my face. I swallow, the metallic tang bursting on my tongue with the vibrancy of light, of flame, of the sun itself, warming my veins.

I am the blade, driven through the heart of a Gore. I am the iron bullet as it finds its mark between the eyes of a Sylk, banishing it to Havok. I am the sharp edge of a dagger as it slices across the throat of a Shifter, hindering them midtransformation, leaving them to fall to the deck a twisted, misshapen creature.

I am the wolf. The nightmare. The judgment.