Page 21 of Cursebreaker

The Shifter is mocking me. Toying with me. Just like Owen had done all those months ago at Bludgrave Manor. He could be anywhere—transform into anything. A moth. A bird. A fish. He could have spies everywhere, watching me. Watching all of us.

And still, someone warned me he was here. But who? And why?

I send a silent, tearful prayer to the Stars that my siblings are unharmed, and wonder if, perhaps, I truly am losing my grip on reality.

Still, I sit with my back to the wall all night, my cutlass in hand.

Because if he is here—if he has come for me—then I will greet him with a blade.

I clutch the handles of the Starchaser’s helm, my knuckles white as the fog begins to clear. The cool air shifts, and a warm breeze tosses my hair over my shoulders, signaling our approach to the edge of the Dire. Moments from now, our ship will enter Hellion’s naval territory, and there will be no turning back.

“This will work,” Lewis whispers, squeezing my arm.

I take a deep breath. “It has to.”

I follow Lewis’s gaze to where Eliza stands at the bow of the ship, her eyes closed, hands outstretched. Beside her, Gabriel is perfectly still, a bloodred sword in either fist. Scattered about the deck, my siblings and friends all hold their breath, their weapons drawn. Waiting.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The compass weighs heavily in the pocket of my coat.

The only way to cure Will of the Shifter curse and free Titus from Morana’s compulsion is to find the Underling queen and obtain a drop of her blood. But the only way to Morana’s domain, to the Burning Lands, is by crossing Hellion without capture—or worse.

I set my jaw. “Steady now.”

The air seems to shimmer as Eliza bends the light, shielding the Starchaser from view.

We emerge from the fog like breaking the surface of the ocean. One moment, we’re shrouded by the mist, and the next, we’re surrounded by Hellion’s naval fleet.

“Hold,” I whisper, my grip tight on the helm as I brace for the alarm to sound.

Hundreds of orange flags billow in the wind. I squint to make out the heraldry of the stag in the bright light of the sun, glittering on the sapphire waves of the Western Sea. The humid, salt-laden air carries with it the scent of baked wood and lime, fresh and earthy and… rotten.

My stomach roils.

The findings provided to the Order while we were still on the Red Island mentioned Hellion’s increased naval presence in the wake of the Eerie’s unholy pact with the Underlings. But they didn’t forewarn the show of force positioned along the edge of the Dire—a display meant to deter pirates who stray too close to the coast of Hellion.

Dozens of pirate vessels are scattered throughout Hellion’s fleet, and I note the familiar flags of pirate clans we’d encountered during my years at sea, all painted over with a red x. Bile rushes into my throat.

Bodies swing from the masts. A message. A warning.

A consequence.

My forearms tense as I guide the Starchaser through the narrow path between Hellion’s ships, and as we pass one of the pirate vessels, out of the corner of my eye, I see Jack remove his cap and clutch it to his chest.

But a strange mixture of relief and dread churns in my gut. If Hellion has yet to fall to the Underlings, there’s still hope—the front lines can continue to hold off Morana’s conquest. But for how long?

Leo—no, Morana—had forewarned me of what would happen if the Eerie sided with the Underlings. Hellion provides the Eerie with Elysian Iron, iron that the Eerie uses to craft weapons for the League of Seven—the global army tasked with keeping the Underlings at bay. In exchange for the iron, the Eerie supplies Hellion with Manan. But if the Eerie aligned themselves with the Underlings and halted their production of weapons, and worse, withheld their stores of Manan from the other kingdoms… the Nightweavers would have no means to protect themselves from the Underlings. And if the Eerie withheld Manan, Nightweavers across the realm would be forced to consume human blood. Few would survive, and it would be only a matter of time—days, perhaps—before Morana and her Underling regime seized control of both continents.

Now that Calantha has assumed the throne in the Eerie, servant to Morana’s bidding, I can’t be sure that she hasn’t already cut off the supply of Manan to Hellion and the other kingdoms. When we met in the war room on the Red Island, my mother and the Order of Hildegarde were aware of this possibility. Yet they still chose to wait instead of act—instead of finding Morana and defeating her before more lives are lost.

I tighten my fists around the helm, feeling as if the wood might splinter in my grasp. They left me with no choice but to pursue Morana myself.

Minutes pass, and there’s no sound other than the low groan of wood and the disjointed chatter of soldiers, but the possibility that we might be discovered at any moment sets my teeth on edge. Eliza bends the light, shielding us from view, but I worry how long she’ll be able to maintain our current state of invisibility. Her arms tremble; sweat drips from her brow. Soon, she’ll have depleted her Manan. If we’re not clear of Hellion’s fleet before that happens, we’ll be exposed—and vastly outnumbered.

And I’m not the only one running the odds. I take stock of my siblings—note the tension in their shoulders, the perspiration above their lips, the slight adjustment of their stances.

Because in the distance, Hellion’s coast rises out of the water like chipped copper teeth, but there’s no solace to be had in nearing land. Because just before we can break free of Hellion’s fleet, the gap between ships narrows further still—an impossible opening to breach.

Nothing is impossible, Father used to say. And, You only fail when you stop trying.