Silver Tide: Lamont's Revenge (Book 2)

 

CHAPTER 1

 

The Moonlight Wake cut through the dark water like a blade, her silver hull gleaming in the moonlight.

She was beautiful. Impossible. A Ship that shouldn't exist—metal that floated, sails that caught wind like they were alive, speed that no wooden Vessel could match.

And she was a beacon.

Every sailor on every sea could see her coming from miles away. The silver Ship. The Legend. The prize.

Fin stood at the helm, his hands gripping the wheel, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Behind them, three ships. Naval Vessels. Lamont's colors.

They'd been sailing for months now—helping merchants, rescuing the vulnerable, living by the Code. Building the legend of the Silver Tide.

But the last two weeks had been different.

Lamont had escalated.

More ships. New tactics. Relentless, obsessive pursuit.

No rest. No resupply. Just running.

"Captain," Snive said, appearing at his side. His face was drawn, exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. "We can't keep this up."

"I know," Fin said quietly.

"The Crew's worn thin. We need to resupply. We need to rest. We need—"

"I know."

Snive was silent for a moment, then said, "This is different than before. He's not just hunting us anymore. He's obsessed."

Fin's jaw tightened. Snive was right.

For months, they'd managed to stay ahead of Lamont. They'd evaded his patrols, slipped through his nets, disappeared into safe harbors when they needed to.

But two weeks ago, something had changed.

Lamont's ships had found them at Harborview. Then again at Saltmere. Then Greywater.

No matter where they went, he was there.

Waiting. Hunting. Closing in.

"We'll find a port," Fin said. "Somewhere safe. Somewhere we can—"

"There is nowhere safe," Snive interrupted. "Not for us. Not for this Ship. Everyone knows what she looks like. Everyone knows who we are."

Fin's grip tightened on the wheel.

Snive was right.

The Moonlight Wake was too recognizable. Too Legendary. Too silver.

They couldn't hide.

"Then what do you suggest?" Fin asked.

Snive hesitated, then said, "I don't know. But we need to figure it out. Fast. The Crew's breaking, Fin. They're loyal, but they're human. And this—" He gestured at the Ships behind them. "This is killing them."

Below deck, the Crew was gathered in the galley.

Kenna sat with her head in her hands, her usually sharp eyes dull with exhaustion. Marcus was sharpening his knife for the third time that hour—a nervous habit he'd developed over the last two weeks. Davey stared into his cup of cold tea, his shoulders slumped. Swing was perched on a barrel, unusually still, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee.

Emerson stood near the door, arms crossed, watching them all with quiet concern.

Lena set down a plate of bread and cheese. No one touched it.

"We can't keep running," Kenna said finally, her voice flat.

"We don't have a choice," Marcus said.

"There's always a choice."

"Not when Lamont's hunting us like this." Marcus gestured toward the ceiling, toward the deck above. "He's got half the Navy after us. And he's not stopping. Not slowing down. Not giving us a moment to breathe."

"It wasn't like this before," Davey said quietly. "We used to have time. We could rest, resupply, disappear for a while. But now..."

"Now he's everywhere," Swing finished. "Like he knows where we're going before we do."

A heavy silence fell over the galley.

"The Moonlight Wake is faster than anything on the water," Davey said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Doesn't matter how fast we are if we can't stop," Swing said quietly. "We need supplies. We need rest. We need—"

"We need a miracle," Kenna finished.

Emerson spoke up. "We need a plan."

They all looked at him.

"Fin's working on it," Emerson said.

"Is he?" Kenna asked, not unkindly. "Because from where I'm sitting, we're just running in circles. And sooner or later, Lamont's going to catch us."

Emerson didn't answer.

Because she was right.

 

On deck, Garrett appeared beside Fin, his expression grim. "Three Ships, Captain. Still gaining."

"How long until they're in range?" Fin asked.

"An hour. Maybe less."

Fin nodded. "Adjust the sails. Get us every bit of speed she's got."

"Aye, Captain."

Garrett moved off, shouting orders.

Snive stayed where he was. "We can't keep doing this, Fin."

"I know."

"The Crew 's breaking. They're loyal, but they're human. They need rest. They need safety. They need to know this isn't going to be their whole lives—running, hiding, never stopping."

"I know," Fin said, his voice sharper than he intended.

Snive didn't flinch. "Then what are we going to do?"

Fin stared out at the dark water, at the three ships behind them, at the endless horizon ahead.

For months, they'd been the Silver Tide. Legendary. Unstoppable. Free.

But freedom meant nothing if you could never rest.

What were they going to do?

The Moonlight Wake was a gift and a curse. She was faster than anything, stronger than anything, more beautiful than anything.

And she was impossible to hide.

"We find a way," Fin said finally. "We always do."

Snive looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "All right, Captain. We'll follow you. We always have."

He walked away, leaving Fin alone at the helm.

The wind picked up, filling the sails.

The Moonlight Wake surged forward, silver and gleaming and impossible to miss.

And behind them, Lamont's ships followed.

Relentless.

Obsessed.

Closing in.

 

CHAPTER 2

 

Captain!" Garrett shouted from the rigging. "They're adjusting course! Trying to flank us!"

Fin's eyes tracked the three Naval Vessels. Two were coming up on either side, the third staying directly behind. Classic pincer maneuver.

They were trying to box him in.

"Swing!" Fin called. "I need more speed!"

"We're already at full sail!" Swing shouted back from the rigging, but he was already moving, adjusting lines with practiced efficiency.

The Moonlight Wake surged forward, her silver hull cutting through the water like a knife.

But the Naval Ships were closing in.

"Fifteen minutes until they're in range," Garrett said, dropping down beside Fin. "Maybe less."

Snive appeared on Fin's other side. "If they get close enough to fire—"

"I know," Fin said.

The Moonlight Wake's hull was enchanted—silver metal that could withstand cannon fire, that repaired itself through magic. She was nearly indestructible.

But her Crew wasn't.

The enchantments didn't protect the people on deck. A cannonball could tear through rigging, shatter the masts, kill anyone in its path.

The Ship would survive.

Her Crew might not.

"We're not fighting," Fin said firmly. "We outrun them."

"How?" Snive asked. "They're faster than they should be. Lamont's done something—new sails, new tactics, I don't know. But they're keeping pace."

Fin's mind raced.

The Moonlight Wake was faster than any wooden ship on the water. That was her magic, her gift.

But speed alone wasn't enough if they had nowhere to go.

He scanned the horizon, looking for anything—a fog bank, a reef, a narrow passage.

There.

To the east, a cluster of rocky islands jutted out of the water. Sharp, jagged, dangerous.

Most Captains would avoid them.

But Fin wasn't most captains.

And the Moonlight Wake wasn't most ships.

"Hard to starboard!" Fin shouted, spinning the wheel.

The ship responded instantly, turning sharp and fast.

"Captain?" Garrett said, his eyes widening as he saw where they were heading. "Those rocks—"

"I know," Fin said.

"We'll be torn apart!"

"A wooden ship would be," Fin said. "But we're not wooden."

Snive caught on immediately. "The hull can take it. But can we navigate it?"

"We're about to find out."

The Moonlight Wake raced toward the rocky islands, her silver hull gleaming in the fading light.

Behind them, the Naval vessels hesitated.

One of the Captains was smart—he saw the trap and started to turn away.

But the other two followed.

"They're coming after us!" Kenna shouted from the deck.

"Good," Fin muttered.

The rocks loomed closer. Sharp spires of stone jutting out of the water, barely visible in the dim light. The passage between them was narrow—barely wide enough for a ship.

A wooden Ship would be smashed to pieces.

But the Moonlight Wake's hull was enchanted silver. She could take the hits.

The question was whether Fin could steer her through.

"Hold on!" Fin shouted.

The Ship plunged into the passage.

Rock scraped against the hull with a horrible screeching sound. Sparks flew. The crew grabbed onto whatever they could find, bracing themselves.

The ship shuddered but held.

Fin gritted his teeth, adjusting the wheel with tiny, precise movements. Left. Right. Straighten. Turn.

The passage twisted and turned, barely wide enough.

Behind them, one of the naval ships tried to follow.

There was a sickening crack as its wooden hull hit the rocks.

The Ship lurched, listing to one side. Its crew scrambled, trying to pull away, but the current dragged it deeper into the rocks.

It wasn't sinking—not yet—but it was stuck.

The second naval ship pulled back, unwilling to risk the same fate.

The Moonlight Wake shot out the other side of the passage, free and clear.

Fin let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"We're through!" Garrett shouted, his voice a mix of relief and disbelief.

The Crew cheered—ragged, exhausted, but alive.

Snive looked at Fin. "That was insane."

"It worked," Fin said.

"This time."

Fin didn't answer.

Because Snive was right.

It had worked this time.

But what about next time? And the time after that?

How long could they keep doing this?

That night, the Moonlight Wake sailed under the stars, putting as much distance as possible between them and Lamont's Ships.

The Crew gathered on deck, too exhausted to sleep, too wired to rest.

Fin stood at the helm, staring out at the dark water.

Emerson approached quietly. "That was close."

"Too close," Fin said.

"The hull held. The Enchantment worked."

"The hull always holds," Fin said. "But we don't. The Crew doesn't. One cannonball in the wrong place and someone dies. The ship repairs itself, but we don't."

Emerson was quiet for a moment. "So what do we do?"

Fin shook his head. "I don't know."

Below deck, the Crew was having the same conversation.

"We can't keep doing this," Kenna said, her voice tight. "Sooner or later, our luck runs out."

"We need to find a way to hide," Marcus said. "Disguise the ship. Make her less... obvious."

"How?" Davey asked. "She's made of silver. She glows in the moonlight. There's no hiding her."

"There has to be a way," Swing said. "Magic made her. Maybe magic can hide her."

Lena looked up from where she was tending a small cut on Garrett's arm. "I've heard stories. Enchanters who can do things like that. Change appearances. Hide things in plain sight."

The Crew looked at her.

"Where?" Kenna asked.

"I don't know," Lena admitted. "Just... stories. Rumors."

"Rumors are better than nothing," Marcus said.

Emerson, who had come below deck, spoke up. "I've heard the same stories. There's an Enchanter—lives somewhere along the coast. Powerful. Reclusive. If anyone could help us, it would be them."

"Do you know where?" Kenna asked.

"No," Emerson said. "But I know someone who might."

Later, Fin's cabin:

Snive knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

Fin was sitting at his desk, staring at a map.

"The Crew 's talking," Snive said.

"About?" Fin looked up.

"Finding an enchanter. Someone who can hide the Ship. Make her less... visible."

Fin leaned back in his chair. "Do you think it's possible?"

Snive shrugged. "I don't know. But it's hope. And right now, hope is all we've got."

Fin stared at the map for a long moment, then nodded. "All right. We find the Enchanter."

"And if they can't help?"

Fin met his eyes. "Then we keep sailing until we find someone who can."

But even as he said it, he wasn't sure he believed it anymore.

 

CHAPTER 3

 

Lord Admiral Quincy Lamont stood on the deck of his flagship, the Relentless, and stared at the empty horizon.

They'd lost them.

Again.

"Report," he said, his voice cold.

His first officer, Commander Thorne, stepped forward. "The pirate vessel escaped through the Shattered Rocks, sir. The Vanguard is damaged—stuck in the passage. We're working to extract her, but it will take time."

"How much time?"

"Hours, sir. Maybe longer."

Lamont's jaw tightened. "And the Moonlight Wake?"

"Gone, sir. We lost visual contact twenty minutes ago."

Lamont's hands curled into fists.

Gone.

The silver Ship. His Ship.

Stolen by a scrawny pirate who had no right to breathe, let alone sail the most powerful vessel ever built.

"Sir," Thorne said carefully. "We've been pursuing them for two weeks. The men are exhausted. The ships need repairs. Perhaps we should—"

"We don't stop," Lamont said, his voice like ice. "We don't rest. We don't give them a moment's peace."

"Sir, with respect, they're faster than us. Even with the enhancements—"

"The enhancements aren't enough," Lamont interrupted. He turned to face Thorne. "I want more speed. More power. Whatever it takes."

Thorne hesitated. "Sir... the mages we hired have already pushed the ships as far as they can. Any more and the enchantments could destabilize. The hulls might not hold."

"Then find better Mages."

"Sir—"

"I don't care what it costs," Lamont said. "I don't care what it takes. That ship is mine. And I will have it back."

Thorne looked like he wanted to argue, but he knew better. "Yes, sir."

Lamont turned back to the horizon.

For months, he'd been hunting the Moonlight Wake. For months, she'd slipped through his fingers.

But two weeks ago, things had changed.

He'd started using informants—paying merchants, dockworkers, tavern keepers to report any sightings of a silver ship. The Moonlight Wake was too distinctive to hide. People noticed her. People talked.

And Lamont listened.

He'd triangulated their position through the reports, predicted their routes, sent his ships to intercept.

And it had worked.

For two weeks, he'd kept them running. No rest. No resupply. No escape.

He'd also hired Mages—discreet, expensive, willing to bend the rules. They'd enchanted his Ships with minor speed enhancements, just enough to keep pace with the Wake.

It still wasn't enough.

The Moonlight Wake was too fast, too maneuverable, too perfect.

Because she was his.

Built to his specifications. Enchanted by the best—no, the only—Enchanter powerful enough to create something so impossible.

And that Enchanter was dead.

The Ship could never be replicated.

Which meant Lamont had to get her back.

No matter what it took.

Later that night, Lamont sat alone in his cabin, staring at a map spread across his desk.

Red marks indicated reported sightings of the Moonlight Wake. Lines connected them, showing possible routes.

But the lines were scattered, unpredictable.

The pirate—Finian Bollard, though Lamont refused to use his name—was clever. He didn't follow patterns. He didn't stick to known routes.

He was impossible to predict.

Lamont's informants helped, but they weren't enough.

The speed enchantments helped, but they weren't enough.

He needed more.

He needed certainty.

He needed power.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Lamont said.

Thorne stepped inside, looking uncomfortable. "Sir, I... I may have found something."

Lamont looked up. "What?"

Thorne hesitated. "One of the mages we hired mentioned... someone. A woman. She deals in darker magic than what we've been using. Forbidden magic. The kind that—"

"Where?" Lamont interrupted.

Thorne swallowed. "Sir, this isn't the kind of magic respectable officers—"

"Where?" Lamont repeated, his voice sharp.

Thorne pulled out a scrap of parchment and set it on the desk. "The Widow's Cove. Three miles north of here. There's a cave at the base of the cliffs. The mage said... she lives there. But sir, he also said she's dangerous. That people who deal with her—"

"Dismissed," Lamont said.

Thorne opened his mouth, then closed it. He nodded and left.

Lamont stared at the parchment.

The Widow's Cove.

He should ignore this. He should stay away.

This was the kind of magic that destroyed men. The kind that came with prices too steep to pay.

But he didn't care.

He wanted his Ship back.

And he would pay any price to get it.

He'd traveled to the Widow's Cove. Lamont had taken a small boat and rowed to shore alone.

He didn't want witnesses. Didn't want anyone to know where he'd gone or what he was doing.

The cave was exactly where Thorne's informant had said it would be—a dark opening at the base of the cliffs, half-hidden by rocks and seaweed.

Lamont climbed out of the boat and approached.

The air around the cave felt wrong. Cold. Heavy.

He stepped inside.

The cave was deeper than it looked from the outside. The walls were slick with moisture, and strange symbols were carved into the stone—old, faded, unreadable.

At the back of the cave, a fire burned in a shallow pit.

And beside the fire sat a woman.

She was tall and thin, wrapped in dark robes that seemed to shift and move in the firelight. Her face was pale, her eyes dark and unreadable.

She looked up as Lamont approached.

"Lord Admiral Lamont," she said, her voice smooth and cold. "I wondered when you would come."

Lamont stopped. "You know who I am."

"Everyone knows who you are," she said. "The man who built the perfect Ship. The man who lost her to a Pirate." She smiled. "The man who will do anything to get her back."

Lamont's jaw tightened. "Can you help me or not?"

"That depends," she said. "What are you willing to give?"

"What do you want?"

She tilted her head, studying him. "For now? Nothing. Consider this... a demonstration. A taste of what I can offer."

She reached into her robes and pulled out a small object—a blade, no longer than a dagger, with a black hilt and a strange, dark sheen to the metal.

"This blade is cursed," she said. "Any wound it makes will carry dark magic. Pain. Poison. A mark that cannot be healed by ordinary means."

She held it out to him.

Lamont hesitated, then took it.

The blade was cold in his hand. Unnaturally cold.

"And tracking?" he asked. "Can you help me find the Ship?"

She smiled. "I can give you a spell that will let you know exactly where the Moonlight Wake is. No more guessing. No more waiting for reports. You'll know."

"How?"

"Magic," she said simply. "Old magic. Powerful magic. The kind your hired mages could never touch."

Lamont looked at the blade, then at her. "What's the price?"

"For this?" She gestured at the blade. "A gift. To show you what I can do."

"And the tracking spell?"

"Blood," she said. "Yours. And a promise."

"What kind of promise?"

Her smile widened. "That when you want more—and you will want more—you'll come back to me. And when you do, we'll discuss... terms."

Lamont should refuse.

He should leave. Throw the blade into the sea. Forget this ever happened.

But he didn't.

"The tracking spell," he said. "Do it."

The Sea Witch stood and gestured for him to approach the fire.

"Give me your hand," she said.

Lamont held out his hand.

She pulled out a small knife and cut his palm. Blood welled up, dark in the firelight.

She let it drip onto a piece of parchment spread on the ground—a map.

Then she began to chant—low, guttural words in a language Lamont didn't recognize.

The blood on the map began to move, spreading across the parchment like ink in water.

And then it stopped.

A single red mark, glowing faintly.

"There," the Sea Witch said. "That's where the Moonlight Wake is right now. The spell will last for three days. After that, you'll need to renew it."

Lamont stared at the mark. It was far—outside his usual territory, in waters he didn't control.

He couldn't send his Fleet. They were too far away, scattered across his patrol routes.

He'd have to go himself.

And he'd have to move fast.

Three days.

It would take at least a day just to reach them.

But this would give him the edge he needed to tip the scales in his favor.

He watched as the red dot glided on the map, and then stopped at a small island.

It was real.

It was working.

"And if I want more?" he asked.

The Sea Witch smiled. "Then you know where to find me."

She reached into her robes and pulled out a small black stone, smooth and cold, marked with strange symbols.

"A token," she said, holding it out to him. "When you're ready for more—and you will be— It will guide you back to me, no matter where you are."

Lamont took the stone. It was unnaturally cold in his hand, like holding a piece of the deep ocean itself.

The Sea Witch's smile widened. "I look forward to our next meeting, Lord Admiral."

 

Lamont rowed back to his ship in silence, the cursed blade tucked into his belt, the enchanted map rolled up in his coat.

He had them.

For three days, he would know exactly where they were.

And after that?

He'd come back.

He'd pay whatever price she asked.

Because he was going to get his Ship back.

No matter what it took.

CHAPTER 4

 

The island was small and unremarkable—a crescent of white sand, a cluster of palm trees, fresh water trickling down from rocky cliffs into a clear pool.

It was perfect.

"Drop anchor!" Fin called.

The Crew moved with weary efficiency, securing the Moonlight Wake in the shallow bay.

For the first time in two weeks, they weren't running.

"How long do we have, Captain?" Garrett asked.

Fin scanned the horizon. Empty. Peaceful. "A few hours. Maybe more. We lost them at the rocks. It'll take time for Lamont to regroup."

"Then let's make the most of it," Snive said.

The Crew practically fell off the Ship onto the beach.

Kenna dropped onto the sand with a groan. "I forgot what it felt like to stand on something that doesn't move."

Marcus laughed—the first real laugh Fin had heard from him in days. "Don't get too comfortable. We're not staying."

"Let me have this moment," Kenna said, spreading her arms wide. "Just... five minutes of not running."

Davey was already at the freshwater pool, filling barrels. "Water's clean! And cold!"

"Thank the Seas," Lena said, joining him. She cupped her hands and drank deeply, then splashed water on her face. "I feel human again."

Swing scrambled up one of the palm trees with surprising speed. "Coconuts!" he called down. "And some kind of fruit—looks like mangoes!"

"Bring them down!" Emerson shouted. "We need to resupply while we can."

 

Within minutes, the crew had scattered across the small island—filling water barrels, gathering fruit, checking the Moonlight Wake for damage from the rocky passage.

Fin stood on the beach, watching them.

They looked... lighter. Still exhausted, still wary, but for the first time in weeks, they weren't looking over their shoulders every five seconds.

Snive appeared beside him, holding a mango. He took a bite and sighed. "Forgot what fresh fruit tasted like."

Fin smiled faintly. "We've been living on hardtack and dried meat for too long."

"Two weeks of running will do that." Snive handed him the mango. "Eat. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I haven't."

"Neither have any of us." Snive gestured at the Crew. "But look at them. They needed this."

Fin took a bite of the mango. It was sweet, juicy, perfect. "We can't stay long."

"I know. But even an hour makes a difference."

Garrett and Marcus were sitting in the shade, passing a coconut back and forth.

"Think we lost him?" Marcus asked.

"For now," Garrett said. "But he'll find us again. He always does."

"Maybe the Enchanter can help."

"If we can find them."

Marcus was quiet for a moment. "You think it'll work? Hiding the ship?"

Garrett shrugged. "I don't know. But it's worth trying. Better than running forever."

Nearby, Kenna and Lena were sorting through the fruit Swing had gathered.

"These are good," Lena said, inspecting a mango. "We can take as many as we can carry. They'll last a few days if we're careful."

"Assuming we have a few days," Kenna said.

Lena looked at her. "You don't think we will?"

Kenna sighed. "I don't know. Lamont's relentless. And we're running out of places to hide."

"Then we find the Enchanter," Lena said firmly. "We make the Ship less visible. We give ourselves a fighting chance."

Kenna smiled faintly. "You're an optimist."

"Someone has to be."

Swing dropped down from another tree, arms full of coconuts. "Found more! And I think there's a banana tree over there!"

Davey laughed. "You're like a squirrel."

"A very useful squirrel," Swing said, grinning. He cracked open a coconut and took a long drink. "This is the best thing I've tasted in weeks."

Emerson walked over, carrying a sack of fruit. "We've got enough to last us a few days. Maybe a week if we ration."

"Good," Fin said, joining them. "We'll need it."

"Captain," Emerson said quietly. "The Crew's asking about the Enchanter. Do we have a plan?"

Fin nodded. "Snive knows someone who might know where to find them. We'll head there next."

"And if the Enchanter can't help?"

Fin looked out at the Moonlight Wake, gleaming silver in the sunlight. "Then we figure something else out."

 

An hour later, the Crew gathered on the beach.

They looked better—cleaner, fed, rested. Still tired, but not broken.

"All right," Fin said. "We've got water, we've got food, and we've got a heading. We're going to find the enchanter. And we're going to figure out how to hide this ship."

"And if we can't?" Kenna asked.

Fin met her eyes. "Then we keep sailing. We keep fighting. We don't give up."

The Crew nodded.

"But for now," Fin said, his voice softening. "We take this moment. We rest. We remember why we're doing this."

Snive raised a coconut. "To the Moonlight Wake. And to the best Crew on the water."

The crew echoed him, raising fruit and coconuts and water flasks.

"To the Moonlight Wake!"

Fin smiled.

For just a moment, they weren't running.

They were just... them.

As the sun began to set, they loaded the last of the supplies onto the ship.

Fin stood at the helm, watching the island fade into the distance.

Snive joined him. "That was good for them. For all of us."

"It was," Fin agreed. "But it won't last."

"No," Snive said. "But it was enough. For now."

Fin nodded.

The Moonlight Wake sailed into the twilight, her silver hull glowing softly in the fading light.

Hope was in the wind that filled her sails, carrying them forward, towards whatever came next.

 

CHAPTER 5

 

The port town of Driftmoor was small, weathered, and unremarkable—exactly the kind of place people came when they didn't want to be found.

The Moonlight Wake anchored in a hidden cove half a mile from the docks. Even here, in this forgotten corner of the sea, the silver ship drew too much attention.

"Stay with the ship," Fin told Garrett. "Keep her ready to sail. If anything feels wrong, leave without us."

Garrett nodded. "Aye, Captain. How long will you be?"

"As long as it takes," Snive said.

Fin, Snive, and Emerson took a small rowboat to shore, leaving the rest of the crew behind.

Driftmoor's streets were narrow and crooked, lined with sagging buildings and salt-stained wood. The air smelled of fish and brine.

"Your contact lives here?" Fin asked.

"Used to," Snive said. "Old sailor named Corwin. If anyone knows where to find an enchanter, it's him."

They found Corwin in a tavern called The Barnacle, hunched over a mug of ale in the corner.

He was ancient—white-haired, weathered, with eyes that had seen too much. But there was something sharp in those eyes. Something that didn't quite match the hunched, tired sailor act.

Snive slid into the seat across from him. "Corwin."

The old man looked up, squinting. Then his face broke into a gap-toothed grin. "Snive McLaine. Thought you were dead."

"Not yet."

Corwin's eyes flicked to Fin, then Emerson. "And who are these?"

"Friends," Snive said. "We need information."

Corwin took a long drink. "Information costs."

Snive dropped a small pouch of coins on the table.

Corwin pocketed it without counting. "What do you need?"

"An enchanter," Fin said. "Someone powerful. Someone who can work with... unusual materials."

Corwin's eyes narrowed. "What kind of unusual?"

"The kind that's already enchanted," Snive said carefully. "We need to disguise something. Hide it."

Corwin was quiet for a long moment. Then he leaned forward. "You're talking about the silver Ship."

Fin tensed.

Corwin chuckled. "Relax, boy. I'm not turning you in. But you're fools if you think you can hide that ship. Everyone from here to the Crescent Isles knows what she looks like."

"That's why we need an enchanter," Fin said.

Corwin studied them—really studied them. His gaze lingered on Fin, then shifted to the window, where the distant gleam of the Moonlight Wake was barely visible in the cove.

Finally, he sighed.

"All right," he said. "I'll help you."

Snive blinked. "You know someone?"

"I know something," Corwin said. He stood, draining his mug. "Come with me. And don't ask questions until we're somewhere private."

Corwin led them through the winding streets to a small, nondescript house on the edge of town.

Inside, it was... different.

The walls were lined with shelves holding jars of strange ingredients—powdered gemstones, dried herbs, vials of glowing liquid. Books and scrolls were stacked everywhere. A workbench in the corner held half-finished enchantments, their surfaces shimmering faintly.

Fin stared.

Corwin closed the door and locked it. Then he turned to face them, and the hunched, tired sailor was gone. He stood straighter, his eyes sharper.

"You're the enchanter," Fin said.

"Was," Corwin said. "A long time ago. Now I'm just an old man who wants to be left alone."

"Why the act?" Emerson asked.

"Because enchanters draw attention," Corwin said. "And attention gets you killed. Or worse—gets you used. I've seen what happens to people with power. They get exploited, drained, worked to death." His voice turned bitter. "I watched it happen to the best of us."

"Sylvaia Ashwin," Snive said quietly.

Corwin's expression darkened. "You know the name."

"She built the Moonlight Wake," Fin said.

"She was forced to build it," Corwin corrected. "By that bastard Lamont. He found her, threatened her, gave her no choice. She poured everything she had into that ship—every ounce of skill, every drop of magic. And when it was done, she died. The enchantment killed her."

"I'm sorry," Fin said quietly.

Corwin's jaw tightened. "She died just months ago. And Lamont didn't even care. He got his weapon, and that was all that mattered to him." His voice turned bitter. "That's why I hide. Why I pretend to be just another washed-up sailor. I won't be used like she was. I won't let anyone force me to create something that kills me."

"We're not asking you to build anything," Snive said. "We just need help hiding the Ship. Disguising it."

Corwin shook his head. "You don't understand. Sylvaia's enchantment is too powerful. The silver isn't just metal—it's part of the magic. You can't paint over it. You can't cover it. Any illusion I tried to cast would slide right off."

"There has to be something," Fin said.

Corwin looked at him for a long moment. Then he sighed. "Let me try. But I'm telling you now—it won't work."

 

They rowed out to the Moonlight Wake under cover of darkness.

Corwin stood on the deck, running his hands over the silver hull. His fingers traced the seams, the enchantments woven into the metal.

"Extraordinary," he murmured. "She really was the best."

He pulled out a small vial of shimmering powder and began to chant—low, rhythmic words in a language Fin didn't recognize.

The powder glowed as he sprinkled it over the hull.

For a moment, the silver seemed to shimmer, to shift.

And then it stopped.

The powder slid off the hull like water off glass, falling into the sea.

Corwin tried again. And again.

Each time, the enchantment failed.

Finally, he stopped, breathing hard. "I told you. Sylvaia's magic is too deep. I can't override it. No one can."

Fin's heart sank.

"So we just... give up?" he said.

Corwin looked at him. "I didn't say that. I said I can't hide the ship.But..." He hesitated. "I won't ask anything of you now. After all, the enchantment didn't work. If you ever need something else—something within my power—you know where to find me."

"Like what?" Snive asked.

"Protection charms. Breaking curses. Healing magic." Corwin's eyes were serious. "If you need me, I'll help."

He paused, then added, "There is one other thing. I've heard rumors—old stories about a protective relic. Something ancient, hidden in the Serpent's Teeth. If it exists, it might give you the edge you need. But it's just a rumor. I can't promise it's real."

"It's more than we had," Snive said.

Fin nodded. "Thank you."

Corwin climbed back into the rowboat. "Good luck, Captain. You're going to need it."

 

The Crew gathered on deck, waiting.

They gathered slowly, warily. Kenna's arms were crossed. Marcus looked exhausted. Davey wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I know things look bad," Fin said. "We can't hide the Ship. Lamont's still hunting us. And we're running out of options."

"So what do we do?" Kenna asked, her voice flat.

"We go after the Artifact," Fin said.

Snive stepped forward. "I've heard the stories. They speak of an old relic. Something protective. Powerful. If we can find it, it might give us the edge we need."

"It's more than nothing," Emerson said quietly.

"Is it?" Kenna challenged. "We're chasing stories now? Legends? What if it doesn't exist? What if it's just another dead end?"

"Then we keep looking," Fin said firmly. "But we don't give up. We don't stop fighting."

Kenna looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn't.

"Where do we even start?" Garrett asked.

Snive unfolded a map. "Corwin mentioned a place. The Serpent's Teeth—a cluster of islands to the east. He said there were old ruins there. Ancient. If the artifact exists, that's where it would be."

"And if it doesn't?" Swing asked.

"Then we figure something else out," Fin said. "But we try. We don't give up."

The Crew was quiet.

Then Lena spoke up. "I'm with you, Captain."

Emerson nodded. "So am I."

One by one, the Crew agreed.

Even Kenna, though she looked skeptical. "Fine. We go after the Artifact. But if this is another dead end—"

"It won't be," Fin said, with more confidence than he felt.

 

The Moonlight Wake sailed through the night, her silver hull cutting through dark water.

The Crew was quiet. Subdued.

The failure with Corwin had hit them hard.

Fin stood at the helm, staring at the horizon. His mind kept circling back to the same thought: We can't hide. We can't outrun him forever. What are we supposed to do?

Snive appeared beside him, and sat on a crate. "How you hangin' in there?"

"Not sure I'am," Fin said. "What if it's not real, Snive? What if we get there and there's nothing?"

Snive was quiet for a moment.

"I know it's been rough," He said finally, "But without hope, what else is there? We have to hope for the best, kid. Because if we don't the misery 'll take us to the depths."

"You're right," Fin said, "But right now, hope seems pretty hard to find."

"I know," Snive said, "But I want ya to know somethin'. You've taken these people farther than anyone else ever  could've. We'd all be dead right now if it wasn't for you. I'm with you, Captain. Always. Hope or not."

"I'm trying, Snive. I have to be strong for everybody and it isn't easy."

"Leadership is a heavy weight to carry."

"And what if it isn't real?" Fin asked, his hands on his head- his elbows on the rail. "What then?"

"You gotta tell yourself, the Artifact is real" Snive said slowly, "Even if it isn't. Because at least that's something to hold on to. Like you said, you have to be strong for everybody. Just don't forget to be strong for yourself too."

"Thanks Snive."

Fin sat on the crate beside him, and they spent some time in companionable silence, watching the water.

CHAPTER 6

 

The next morning they saw it. The Serpent's Teeth rose out of the water like jagged fangs—sharp, black rocks jutting up from the sea, surrounded by treacherous currents and hidden reefs.

"Lovely place," Swing muttered.

"Stay sharp," Fin said. "If the artifact is here, we're not the only ones who know about it."

They anchored the Moonlight Wake in a sheltered cove and took rowboats to the largest island.

The ruins were ancient—crumbling stone structures half-swallowed by vines and moss. Symbols were carved into the walls, worn smooth by time and weather.

"What is this place?" Davey asked.

"Old," Snive said. "Very old. Pre-dates most of the coastal settlements."

They spread out, searching.

Fin moved through the ruins carefully, his eyes scanning for anything unusual.

And then he saw it.

A stone archway, half-buried in rubble. Symbols carved around the edges—similar to the ones on the walls, but deeper. More deliberate.

"Over here!" Fin called.

The Crew gathered around.

Emerson knelt, brushing dirt away from the symbols. "This is a seal. A protective ward."

"Can you open it?" Fin asked.

Emerson studied the symbols, then nodded slowly. "I think so. But if this is warding something, there's a reason."

"We didn't come all this way to turn back now," Kenna said.

Emerson pressed his hand against the center of the archway and spoke a word—low, guttural, ancient.

The symbols flared with light.

And the stone began to move.

Beyond the archway was a narrow passage leading down into darkness.

Fin lit a torch. "Stay close. Watch your step."

They descended carefully, the passage twisting and turning, leading deeper into the island.

Finally, it opened into a chamber.

The walls were covered in more symbols—glowing faintly, pulsing with old magic.

And in the center of the chamber, on a stone pedestal, sat a small object.

A compass.

It was old—tarnished brass, worn smooth by time. Strange symbols were etched into the casing, faded but still visible.

Fin approached slowly.

"That's it?" Kenna said. "A compass?"

"It's more than that," Emerson said quietly. "Look at the symbols. This is old magic. Very old."

Fin reached out and picked it up.

It was heavier than it looked. Solid. Real.

He opened it.

The needle spun wildly for a moment, then stopped—pointing directly at him.

"Does it work?" Snive asked.

"I don't know," Fin said.

He turned, and the needle didn't move. It stayed pointed at him.

"It's broken," Marcus said.

But Fin wasn't so sure.

There was something about it. Something that felt... important.

He closed the compass and tucked it into his coat. "We'll figure it out later. Let's go."

They left the dark ruins and stepped into the morning light. With the compass stashed away they were headed back to the Ship. Then a voice called out from the rocks above.

"Well, well. Look what we have here."

Fin's blood ran cold.

He knew that voice.

Captain Rourke stepped into view, flanked by a dozen armed Pirates.

She smiled—cold, cruel, triumphant.

"Hello, Finian," she said. "It's been a while."

CHAPTER 7

 

Fin's hand went to his sword.

Rourke's smile widened. "Oh, don't bother. You're outnumbered. Outgunned. And I'm in a very bad mood."

"What do you want, Rourke?" Fin asked, his voice steady despite the fear coiling in his chest.

"What do I want?" Rourke's voice turned sharp, venomous. "I want what's mine. I want the glory you stole. I want the Legend that should have been mine."

She stepped closer, her Crew spreading out.

Her hand tightened on the hilt of her whip. "That should have been me. If I'd had that ship, if I'd had that chance—I would have been unstoppable. But you? You just stumbled into it. You didn't earn it. You don't deserve it."

Fin's jaw tightened. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"No," Rourke said. "You just took it. Like you took everything else."

Snive stepped forward. "We don't want trouble, Rourke."

"Too bad," Rourke said. "Because I do."

Her eyes flicked to the ruins behind them. "I know why you're here. The Artifact. The Legendary Relic hidden in the Serpent's Teeth." She smiled coldly. "And you found it, didn't you? Hand it over. Now."

"We didn't find anything," Kenna said.

"Liar!" Rourke snapped. She gestured to her Crew. "Take them!"

The Pirates rushed forward.

Chaos erupted.

Fin's Crew scattered in different directions. Some ran, others drawing their weapons, fighting back.

Steel clashed against steel. Pistols fired. Shouts echoed off the ancient stones.

Fin went to reach for his sword but Snive pushed him towards the ruins behind them. 

"Run! Get to the Ship!"

Under better circumstances he would've joked about it.

'Hey! Who's the Captain here?'

But this was not one of those moments.

He hesitated a moment, but then a bullet almost caught him in the boot and more shots were fired.

Fin ran, dodging between crumbling walls and overgrown ruins.

Rourke's pirates gave chase, swords drawn, pistols firing.

Behind him, he heard Rourke screaming orders. "Don't let them reach the boats! I want Bollard alive!"

Fin's boots pounded against the rocky ground. He could hear footsteps behind him—close, too close.

He burst through a gap in the ruins and found himself at the edge of a cliff.

Below, the sea churned against the rocks. It was a twenty-foot drop, maybe more.

He turned.

Rourke stood ten feet away, breathing hard, her whip coiled in her hand. Three of her crew flanked her, weapons drawn.

"Nowhere to run, Finian," she said, her voice cold.

Fin's chest heaved. His hand went to his sword, but he knew it was useless. He was outnumbered. Cornered.

Rourke stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Now. Give me the artifact."

Fin slowly, carefully reached into his coat.

Rourke tensed, her Crew raising their weapons.

Fin pulled out the compass and held it up.

"You want to see the relic?" he said. "Well, here it is!"

The lid fell open.

The needle spun wildly, then stopped—pointing at nothing in particular.

Rourke stared at it.

The tarnished brass. The faded symbols. The broken, spinning needle.

Her face went from triumph to confusion to fury in the span of three seconds.

"This is it?" she shouted. "A broken compass? That's the Legendary Artifact?"

"See. We didn't find anything."

Rourke approached Fin, looking closer at the compass in his hand. 

"You wasted my time," she snarled. "You dragged me all the way out here for this?"

"I didn't drag you anywhere," Fin said. "You followed us."

Rourke's hand lashed out, striking him across the face.

Fin stumbled back, his cheek stinging. Rocks skittered down off the edge of the cliff as his boot touched the edge.

"You think you're so clever," Rourke hissed. "You think you're better than me. But you're not. You're just lucky. And luck runs out."

Fin looked at the water below. Then at Rourke. Then back at the water.

"Maybe so" Fin said, "But I'll take my chances."

He quickly closed the compass and tucked it back into his coat.

"You're insane," one of Rourke's crew said, reading his expression.

Fin smiled faintly. "Absolutely."

And he jumped.

The fall felt like it lasted forever.

Then he hit the water.

Cold. Shocking. The impact drove the air from his lungs.

He kicked hard, fighting his way to the surface, gasping for breath.

Above, Rourke stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down at him.

"Get him!" she screamed at her Crew. "Get to the boats! Don't let him escape!"

But Fin was already swimming, cutting through the water toward the cove where the Moonlight Wake was anchored.

His Crew was scattered, but they were fast. One by one, he saw them reaching the rowboats, scrambling aboard.

Snive was already at the oars. "Fin! Here!"

Fin grabbed the side of the boat and hauled himself in, coughing and dripping.

"Everyone accounted for?" Fin gasped.

"Kenna and Marcus are in the other boat," Garrett said. "Swing, Lena, Davey, and Emerson are already on the Ship."

"Then go!" Fin shouted. "Go, go, go!"

They rowed hard, reaching the Moonlight Wake just as Rourke's Crew reached their own boats.

"Raise anchor!" Fin shouted as he climbed aboard. "Full sail! Now!"

The Crew moved with desperate speed.

The Moonlight Wake surged forward, her silver hull cutting through the water.

Behind them, Rourke's Ship—the Serpent's Promise—gave chase.

But the Moonlight Wake was faster.

Within minutes, they'd left Rourke behind.

Fin stood at the helm, soaking wet, breathing hard.

Snive appeared beside him. "You all right?"

"I've been better," Fin said.

Snive looked back at the distant shape of Rourke's Ship. "She's not going to let this go."

"I know," Fin said.

He pulled the compass out of his coat. It was wet, but undamaged.

The symbols on the casing seemed to shimmer faintly in the light.

Fin stared at the compass for a long moment, then handed it to Snive. "Keep it safe. See if you can figure out what it does."

Snive took it carefully, turning it over in his hands. "You think it's really something?"

Fin didn't know.

But something told him it was important.

"We'll find out," he said.

 

CHAPTER 8

 

The Moonlight Wake sailed through calm waters under a clear sky.

For the first time in weeks, the horizon was empty. No Ships. No pursuit.

Just open Sea.

The Crew was cautiously optimistic.

"Maybe we lost him," Kenna said, leaning against the rail.

"Maybe," Marcus said. But he didn't sound convinced.

Fin stood at the helm, scanning the horizon. Something felt wrong. The air was too still. Too quiet.

Snive appeared beside him, the brass compass in his hand. "I've been studying this. The symbols are old—older than anything I've seen. But I can't figure out what they mean."

"Keep trying," Fin said.

Snive nodded and tucked the compass away. "You feel it too, don't you? Something's off."

"Yeah," Fin said quietly. "Stay alert. Tell the Crew—"

"SHIP!" Swing shouted from the crow's nest. "Starboard side!"

Fin's heart sank.

He turned.

A Ship was cutting through the water toward them—fast, too fast.

The Relentless.

Lamont's Flagship.

"How did he find us?" Garrett breathed.

"Doesn't matter," Fin said. "All hands! Prepare to run!"

The Crew scrambled into action.

But even as the Moonlight Wake surged forward, Fin knew something was wrong.

Lamont shouldn't have been able to find them. Not here. Not this fast.

The Relentless gave chase, but the Moonlight Wake was faster.

Within an hour, they'd put distance between them.

"We're losing them!" Davey called.

But Fin didn't relax.

Because ahead, cutting across their path, was another Ship.

And another.

And another.

Three more Naval vessels, closing in from different directions.

"It's a trap," Snive said.

Fin's jaw tightened. "He knew where we'd be. He planned this."

"How?" Kenna demanded.

Fin didn't answer.

Because he didn't know.

The Ships closed in, forming a tight circle around the Moonlight Wake.

Fin scanned the horizon, looking for a gap, a way out.There.

A narrow opening between two of the ships.

"Hard to port!" Fin shouted. "Full sail! We're breaking through!"

The Moonlight Wake turned sharply, racing toward the gap.

But the wind had suddenly and mysteriously decided not to take their side. They weren't going fast enough to ram through the closing vessels.

The Naval Ships adjusted course, tightening the circle.

Fin tried to veer away, looking for another opening.

But everywhere he turned, there was another ship. Another blockade.

"He's herding us," Snive said grimly.

Fin's hands tightened on the wheel.

Lamont wasn't just chasing them. He was driving them exactly where he wanted them to go.

They sailed into a narrow strait between two rocky cliffs—the only route left open.

And waiting at the other end was the Relentless.

Behind them, the other Ships closed in, blocking the exit.

They were surrounded.

Trapped.

"Captain?" Garrett's voice was tight.

Fin looked around desperately. The cliffs were too steep to climb. The passage too narrow to maneuver. The ships too close to outrun.

There was no way out.

The Relentless dropped anchor, blocking the strait.

Lamont stood at the bow, flanked by armed soldiers. Cannons lined the deck of every ship, all aimed at the Moonlight Wake.

"Finian Bollard!" Lamont's voice echoed off the cliffs. "You're surrounded! Surrender now, or I'll blow the Ship—and your Crew—to pieces! Surrender, and I will let them go! You have my word!"

The crew looked at Fin, fear in their eyes.

"He's bluffing," Kenna said. "He wants the Ship intact."

"Maybe," Snive said quietly. "But he wants Fin more. And he'll kill us to get him."

Fin stared at the cannons. At the soldiers. At Lamont's cold, triumphant smile.

The Moonlight Wake might survive a bombardment. The enchanted hull was nearly indestructible.

But his crew wouldn't.

"What do we do?" Marcus whispered.

Fin's mind raced, searching for options, for any way out.

But there was nothing.

They were trapped.

And Lamont knew it.

"You have one minute to decide!" Lamont shouted. "Surrender, or I open fire!"

"Fin," Snive said urgently. "We can fight. We can—"

"We can't," Fin said quietly. "Look around. We're outnumbered ten to one. If we fight, they'll kill everyone."

"So what do we do?" Kenna demanded.

Fin looked at his crew. Exhausted. Terrified. Loyal.

He couldn't let them die for him.

"I'm going over there," Fin said.

"What?" Snive grabbed his arm. "Fin, no—"

"If I surrender, maybe he'll let you go," Fin said.

"He won't," Snive said. "He wants the Ship. He'll take you and the Moonlight Wake."

"Maybe," Fin said. "But if I don't go, he'll kill all of you right now. At least this way, you have a chance."

"We're not leaving you," Kenna said fiercely.

"We don't have a choice," Fin said. He looked at Snive. "When you get the chance—and you will—you run. You take the Crew and you get out of here. That's an Order."

Snive's jaw tightened. "Fin—"

"Promise me," Fin said.

Snive looked at him for a long moment, his eyes burning with grief and fury.

Then he nodded, his voice rough. "I promise."

"Time's up, Bollard!" Lamont shouted. "What's it going to be? Do they Live, or do they die?"

Fin stepped to the rail.

"I'm coming!" he called. "Don't fire!"

He climbed into a rowboat alone.

The Crew watched from the deck of the Moonlight Wake, silent and grim.

Fin rowed across the water toward the Relentless.

Lamont's soldiers hauled him aboard.

Lamont stood waiting, his expression cold and triumphant.

"Captain Bollard," he said. "At last."

Fin said nothing.

Lamont gestured to his soldiers. "Take him below. Chain him. I'll deal with him later."

He turned to his officers. "Seize the Moonlight Wake. Board her. Take the crew into custody."

"You said you'd let them go!" Fin shouted.

Lamont smiled. "I lied."

"You're more of a Pirate than any Pirate I've ever met."

Fin doubled over as Lamont kicked him in the stomach. 

"Take him away," Lamont said coldly.

As the soldiers dragged Fin away, he looked back at the Moonlight Wake.

At his Crew.

At Snive, standing at the rail, his face tight with rage.

And then he was gone.

The soldiers threw Fin into a cell below deck and chained his wrists to the wall.

The door slammed shut.

Fin was alone in the darkness.

He'd tried to save his Crew.

And he'd failed.

 

CHAPTER 9

 

Fin didn't know how long he'd been in the cell.

Hours, maybe. Long enough for his wrists to ache from the chains. Long enough for the darkness to press in around him.

He could hear sounds from above—shouting, footsteps, the creak of wood.

Lamont's men boarding the Moonlight Wake.

Taking his Crew.

Fin pulled against the chains, but they held fast.

He'd failed them.

He'd surrendered to save them, and Lamont had betrayed him.

Now they were all prisoners.

The door to the cell opened.

Torchlight flooded in, blinding after the darkness.

Two soldiers entered, unlocking his chains from the wall.

"On your feet," one of them said.

Fin stood, his legs unsteady.

They dragged him out of the cell, up the stairs, onto the deck.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of red and gold.

Lamont stood waiting, his hands clasped behind his back.

And beside him, gleaming faintly in the dying light, was the Moonlight Wake.

Fin's heart twisted.

His Ship. His Crew.

All of it, in Lamont's hands.

"Captain Bollard," Lamont said. "I've been looking forward to this."

Fin said nothing.

Lamont stepped closer. "Do you know how long I've waited? How many months I've spent hunting you? Chasing you across the sea like a dog after a rabbit?"

"You could have stopped anytime," Fin said.

Lamont's eyes flashed. "You stole from me. You humiliated me. You took the most powerful Ship ever built and turned it into a symbol of everything I despise."

"Freedom?" Fin said.

Lamont struck him across the face.

Fin's head snapped to the side, his cheek stinging.

"You don't deserve that Ship," Lamont hissed. "You don't deserve the Legend. You're nothing. A filthy pirate who got lucky."

Fin looked at him, blood on his lip. "And you're a tyrant who hunts people for sport."

Lamont's jaw tightened.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a blade.

It was small—no longer than a dagger—with a black hilt and a strange, dark sheen to the metal.

Fin's blood ran cold.

There was something wrong about that blade. Something unnatural.

"Do you know what this is?" Lamont asked, his voice soft and dangerous.

Fin didn't answer.

"It's a gift," Lamont said. "From someone who understands the value of... permanence."

He stepped closer, the blade gleaming in the torchlight.

"I'm going to mark you, Finian Bollard. So that everyone who sees you will know exactly who you belong to."

"I don't belong to anyone," Fin said.

Lamont smiled. "We'll see."

 He looked at the soldiers holding Fin and nodded. The soldiers forced Fin to his knees and tore open his shirt, exposing his chest.

Fin struggled, but they held him fast.

Lamont knelt in front of him, the cursed blade in his hand. 

"This will hurt," Lamont said. "A lot."

He pressed the blade to Fin's chest, just above his heart.

And he carved.

The pain was unlike anything Fin had ever felt.

It wasn't just the blade cutting into his skin—it was something deeper. Darker.

The curse.

It burned like fire, spreading from the wound through his veins, into his bones.

Fin screamed.

Lamont didn't stop.

He carved slowly, deliberately, the blade tracing a single letter into Fin's flesh.

L.

For Lamont.

A brand. A mark of ownership.

When it was done, Lamont stepped back, admiring his work.

The wound was deep, the edges blackened and smoking faintly.

Fin gasped for breath, his vision swimming.

"There," Lamont said, his voice satisfied. "Now everyone will know. You're mine."

He gestured to the soldiers. "Take him back to the cell. Let him rot."

The soldiers dragged Fin back below deck and threw him into the cell.

The chains snapped back onto his wrists.

The door slammed shut.

Fin collapsed against the wall, his chest burning.

The wound throbbed with dark magic, spreading through him like poison.

He could feel it—cold, creeping, killing him slowly.

He didn't know how long he had.

Hours. Maybe days.

But the curse was going to kill him.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

 

CHAPTER 10

 

Snive sat in the dark cell, his hands chained to the wall.

Around him, the rest of Fin's Crew was imprisoned—Kenna, Marcus, Garrett, Emerson, Lena, Davey, Swing. All of them- silent, grim, furious.

They'd heard Fin screaming.

The sound had echoed through the Ship, raw and agonized, amplified by the surrounding cliffs.

And then it had stopped.

Snive's hands curled into fists.

He'd promised Fin he'd get the Crew out.

But he'd failed.

They were all prisoners now.

And Fin—

Snive didn't want to think about what Lamont had done to him.

Footsteps approached the cell.

Snive looked up.

Two soldiers stood outside the bars, their faces shadowed in the torchlight.

"Come to gloat?" Kenna spat, tears still visible on her face.

One of the soldiers shook his head. "No. We came to help."

The Crew stared.

The soldier stepped closer, his voice low. "What Lord Admiral Lamont did to your Captain... that was torture. Dark magic. That's not Justice."

The second soldier nodded. "We didn't sign up to serve a man who brands prisoners with cursed blades. That's not what the Navy is supposed to be."

"Then why are you here?" Snive asked carefully.

"Because we're going to help you escape," the first soldier said. "The Lord Admiral is in his quarters using the privy. We don't have much time."

"Why should we trust you?" Marcus asked.

The soldier pulled out a key. "Because what he did was wrong."

He unlocked the cell door.

"Your Captain is below deck," the soldier said. "Forward cell. He's alive, but barely. You need to get him out of here. Now."

"How?" Snive asked. "The Ship is crawling with Guards."

The second soldier smiled grimly. "Not for long. We're going to set fires—three of them. Officer's quarters, cargo hold, and the rigging. It'll create enough chaos for you to get out."

"You'd burn your own Ship?" Emerson asked.

"It's just a Ship," the first soldier said. "There are other vessels to evacuate to. But what Lamont did... that crosses a line. We won't be part of it."

Ten minutes later:

Smoke began to pour from the officer's quarters.

Shouts echoed across the deck.

"Fire! Fire in the captain's cabin!"

Crew Members scrambled, grabbing buckets, rushing toward the flames.

Then more smoke—thick and black—billowed up from below deck.

"The cargo hold's on fire!"

Panic spread.

A third fire erupted in the rigging, flames licking up the sails.

Officers shouted conflicting orders. Crew ran in every direction. The acrid smell of burning tar, rope, and fabric filled the air.

And in the chaos, no one noticed the cell doors swinging open.

Snive led the crew through the smoke-filled corridors, moving fast and low.

He pulled the brass compass from his coat—somehow, Lamont's men had missed it during the search.

He opened it.

The needle spun wildly, then stopped—pointing forward.

Toward Fin. He could feel it. It wasn't about want or need, but the truth.

"This way," Snive said.

They moved through the Ship, dodging soldiers who were too busy fighting the fires to notice them.

Kenna grabbed a sword from an unmanned weapons rack. Marcus found a pistol. One by one, the crew armed themselves.

The compass led them deeper into the ship, down narrow stairs, into the brig.

And there, in the last cell, chained to the wall, was Fin.

He was barely conscious.

His shirt was torn open, revealing the wound on his chest—a blackened, smoking letter carved into his flesh.

L.

The curse had spread, dark veins creeping out from the wound like cracks in glass.

"Fin!" Snive rushed forward, fumbling with the lock.

Fin's eyes fluttered open. "Snive?"

"We're getting you out of here," Snive said, his voice rough.

The lock clicked open. The chains fell away.

Fin slumped forward, and Snive caught him.

"Can you walk?" Snive asked.

"I can try," Fin said, his voice weak.

Garrett and Marcus moved to support him, each taking one of Fin's arms.

"We need to move," Kenna said. "Now."

They fought their way back through the ship.

The fires were spreading. Smoke filled the corridors. Crew members ran past them, too panicked to stop them.

Somewhere above, they could hear Lamont shouting—furious, confused, demanding to know what was happening.

But as they reached the upper deck, they ran into resistance.

A group of Lamont's soldiers blocked the way, weapons drawn.

"Stop right there!" one of them shouted.

Snive drew his sword. "Get Fin to the Moonlight Wake. I'll hold them off."

"We're not leaving you," Kenna said.

"There's no time!" Snive snapped. "Get Fin out of here. Go!"

Emerson and Lena stepped forward, weapons ready. "We'll help."

The rest of the crew ran, carrying Fin toward the rail where the Moonlight Wake was moored.

Snive, Emerson, and Lena fought.

Steel clashed against steel. Pistols fired. Smoke swirled around them.

It was chaos.

But they held the line.

Garrett and Marcus hauled Fin over the rail and onto the deck of the Moonlight Wake.

Swing and Davey were already cutting the mooring lines.

"Snive!" Kenna shouted. "We're clear! Come on!"

Snive, Emerson, and Lena broke away from the fight and ran.

They leaped across the gap between the ships, landing hard on the deck of the Moonlight Wake.

"Raise the sails!" Kenna shouted. "Go, go, go!"

The Moonlight Wake surged forward, pulling away from the burning Relentless.

Lamont burst onto the deck, his face twisted with fury, his uniform unkempt and hastily fastened.

"STOP THEM!" he screamed. "DON'T LET THEM ESCAPE!"

But it was too late.

The Moonlight Wake was already moving, her silver hull gleaming in the firelight.

And she was fast.

Too fast to catch.

 

Snive knelt beside Fin, who was lying on the deck, barely conscious.

The cursed wound was spreading, the dark veins creeping further across his chest.

"We need to get him help," Snive said. "Now."

"Where?" Kenna asked. "Who can break a curse like this?"

Snive looked at the compass in his hand.

Then he looked at Fin.

"I know someone," he said quietly. "But we have to move fast."

CHAPTER 11

 

The Moonlight Wake cut through the water at full speed, her silver hull gleaming under the moonlight.

Fin lay on the deck, wrapped in blankets, shivering despite the warmth of the night.

The cursed wound had spread further. The dark veins now covered half his chest, creeping up his neck, down his arm.

His skin was pale. His breathing shallow.

He was dying.

Snive knelt beside him, checking the wound for what felt like the hundredth time.

It was worse. Always worse.

"How much longer?" Kenna asked quietly.

"Hours," Snive said. "Maybe less."

Kenna's jaw tightened. "Will we make it to Driftmoor in time?"

"We have to," Snive said.

The Crew worked in grim silence, pushing the Moonlight Wake as fast as she would go.

No one spoke about what would happen if they didn't make it in time.

They didn't need to.

They all knew.

 

Fin drifted in and out of consciousness.

Sometimes he opened his eyes and saw Snive's face above him.

Sometimes he heard voices—Kenna, Marcus, Garrett—talking in low, worried tones.

Sometimes he felt the Ship moving beneath him, the familiar rhythm of the waves.

And sometimes he felt nothing at all.

Just cold.

And darkness.

And the curse, spreading through him like poison.

 

The Moonlight Wake sailed into the hidden cove near Driftmoor at dawn.

"Drop anchor!" Snive shouted. "Kenna, Marcus, Garrett—you're with me. The rest of you stay with the Ship."

They lowered a rowboat and carefully lifted Fin into it.

He didn't wake.

Snive rowed hard, his arms burning, his heart pounding.

"Hold on, Fin. Just hold on."

They reached the shore and carried Fin through the narrow streets of Driftmoor.

People stared, but no one stopped them.

Snive led them to the small, nondescript house on the edge of town.

He pounded on the door.

"Corwin! Open up! It's Snive!"

The door opened.

Corwin stood there, his eyes sharp and wary. "Snive? What—"

He saw Fin, unconscious in Garrett's arms, the cursed wound spreading across his chest.

Corwin's expression darkened. "Bring him inside. Now."

They laid Fin on a table in Corwin's workshop.

Corwin examined the wound, his face grim.

"Dark magic," he muttered. "A cursed blade. This is Sea Witch work."

"Can you break it?" Snive asked desperately.

Corwin was quiet for a moment.

"Yes," he said. "But it won't be easy. And it won't be free."

"We'll pay whatever you want," Snive said.

Corwin looked at him. "This isn't about coin. Breaking a curse this powerful requires a price. Magic always does."

"What kind of price?" Kenna asked.

Corwin's eyes shifted to Fin, then back to Snive. "A favor. Unspecified. To be called in when I need it."

"A Binding Favor," Marcus said quietly.

Corwin nodded. "Yes. Your Captain will owe me. And when I call it in, he'll have no choice but to honor it. No matter what I ask."

Snive's jaw tightened. "That's a steep price."

"It's the only price," Corwin said. "The curse is killing him. Without my help, he'll be dead by nightfall. With it, he lives—but he owes me."

Snive looked at Fin, pale and barely breathing on the table.

"Do it," Snive said.

"It's not your favor to give," Corwin said. "It's his. He has to agree."

"He's unconscious," Kenna said.

"Then wake him," Corwin said. "Because I won't bind him to a debt he didn't choose. And the magic won't work if he doesn't."

Snive leaned over Fin, shaking his shoulder gently. "Fin. Fin, wake up. I need you to hear this."

Fin's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy.

"Snive," His voice was barely a whisper.

"Listen to me," Snive said urgently. "Corwin can break the curse. But it'll cost you. A binding favor. You'll owe him, and when he calls it in, you'll have to honor it. No matter what."

Fin's breathing was labored. "Will... will it save me?"

"Yes," Corwin said, stepping forward. "But you'll be bound to me. When I need something—anything—you'll have to give it. That's the price."

Fin closed his eyes.

For a moment, Snive thought he'd lost consciousness again.

Then Fin spoke, his voice weak but clear. "Do it."

Corwin nodded. "So be it." 

Corwin worked quickly, pulling jars and vials from his shelves, mixing ingredients, chanting in low, guttural words.

He placed his hands over the cursed wound.

Light flared—bright and blinding.

Fin screamed.

The dark veins writhed, fighting against the magic, but Corwin didn't stop.

Corwin pressed harder on the wound, the light growing brighter, hotter.

And then, with a sound like breaking glass, the curse shattered.

The dark veins faded.

The wound stopped smoking.

Fin gasped, his body going limp.

Corwin stepped back, breathing hard. "It's done."

Snive rushed forward. "Fin?"

Fin's eyes opened. He was pale, exhausted, but alive.

"Did it work?" he whispered.

Snive looked at his chest.

The wound was still there—a scar in the shape of an L, burned into his skin.

But the curse was gone.

"It worked," Snive said, his voice rough with relief.

Fin closed his eyes. "Good."

And then he passed out again.

Hours passed.

Fin woke in a bed in Corwin's workshop, wrapped in clean bandages.

Snive sat beside him. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got kicked by a horse," Fin said. "But alive."

"You are," Snive said. "Thanks to Corwin."

Fin looked down at his chest. The bandages covered the scar, but he could feel it—a permanent mark.

"The favor," Fin said quietly. "It's binding?"

"Yes," Snive said.

Fin nodded slowly. "Then I'll honor it. When he calls it in, I'll pay."

"You didn't have a choice," Snive said.

"I did," Fin said. "I chose to Live."

Corwin appeared in the doorway. "You're awake. Good."

Fin met his eyes. "Thank you. For saving my life."

Corwin nodded. "You're welcome. But remember—you owe me. And one day, I'll have to collect it."

"I know," Fin said.

Corwin studied him for a moment, then turned and left.

Snive helped Fin sit up. "Can you walk?"

"I can try," Fin said.

"Good," Snive said. "Because the Crew's waiting. And we need to get out of here before Lamont finds us again."

Fin nodded.

He was alive.

But the scar on his chest—and the debt he owed—would stay with him forever.

CHAPTER 11

 

Fin slept for two days.

But it wasn't peaceful sleep.

He dreamed of the cell. Of chains. Of Lamont's cold smile and the cursed blade cutting into his chest.

He dreamed of the darkness spreading through him, killing him slowly.

He dreamed of screaming, and no one coming.

He woke gasping, drenched in sweat, his hand clutching his chest where the scar burned.

Snive was there every time, pulling him back to reality.

"You're safe," Snive said quietly. "You're on the Moonlight Wake. You're safe."

But Fin didn't feel safe.

 

When Fin finally stayed awake long enough to eat, it was Snive who brought him soup.

"You need to eat," Snive said gently.

Fin's hands shook as he took the bowl.

He tried to hold it steady, but he couldn't.

Snive took it back without a word and helped him, one spoonful at a time.

Fin hated it—hated feeling weak, hated needing help.

But he was too exhausted to fight it.

 

Over the next few days, the Crew took turns visiting.

Kenna brought him food and sat with him, talking about nothing important, just filling the silence.

Marcus brought him books, but Fin couldn't focus on the words.

Garrett checked his bandages and tried to make him laugh with terrible jokes.

Emerson played quiet music on a battered fiddle.

Lena brought him tea and didn't ask questions when he didn't want to talk.

Davey and Swing told him ridiculous stories.

And Snive stayed close, always watching, always ready.

Fin woke screaming one night.

The nightmare had been worse this time—Lamont carving the letter into his chest over and over, the curse spreading, killing him, and no one coming to save him.

Snive was at his side in seconds. "Fin. Fin, look at me. You're safe."

But Fin couldn't stop shaking.

His chest heaved. His vision blurred.

And then, without warning, he broke.

The tears came hard and fast, and he couldn't stop them.

He'd been captured. Tortured. Branded like an animal.

He'd thought he was going to die alone in that cell.

And he was only seventeen.

Snive didn't say anything.

He just sat beside Fin and let him cry.

When the tears finally stopped, Fin felt hollow.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice rough.

"For what?" Snive asked.

"For falling apart."

Snive shook his head. "You didn't fall apart. You survived. And now you're healing. That's not weakness, Fin. That's strength."

Fin looked at him, exhausted and raw.

"It doesn't feel like strength," he said quietly.

"It will," Snive said. "Give it time."

A week later:

Fin was strong enough to walk on deck.

The Crew cheered when they saw him, relief and joy on their faces.

"Captain's back!" Davey shouted.

Fin smiled, but it was fragile.

He stood at the rail, looking out at the sea.

The Moonlight Wake gleamed in the sunlight, her silver hull impossible to miss.

Beautiful.

Unmistakable.

A beacon.

Snive joined him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Fin said. Then, more honestly, "Tired. Still... scared, sometimes."

Snive nodded. "That's normal. What you went through—it doesn't just go away."

Fin touched his chest, where the scar was hidden beneath his shirt. "He marked me. Like I was his property."

"You're not," Snive said firmly. "You're free. And you're still the Captain of this Ship."

Fin was quiet for a long moment.

"I keep thinking about it," he said. "The cell. The blade. The curse. I keep waking up thinking I'm still there."

"That'll fade," Snive said. "Not all at once. But it will."

Fin looked at him. "How do you know?"

Snive's expression darkened. "Because I've been there. After Lamont sank my ship. After I lost my family. I had nightmares for months. I still do, sometimes."

Fin hadn't known that.

"But you keep going," Snive said. "You heal. You find reasons to keep fighting. And eventually, the nightmares lose their power."

Fin nodded slowly.

"I don't want to keep running," he said quietly. "I'm tired of being afraid."

"Then don't run," Snive said. "Stand and fight. Not with swords—with who you are. Show Lamont he didn't break you."

Fin looked out at the Sea.

"I'm thinking we can't keep hiding," he said. "Look at her. She's silver. She shines like a star. Everyone can see us coming. We can't blend in. No matter where we go, Lamont will find us."

"So what do we do?" Snive asked.

Fin took a breath. "We stop trying to hide. We become exactly what he's afraid of."

Snive stared at him. "You want to fight him?"

"No," Fin said. "I want to be the Legend he's been chasing. I want to help people. Stand against tyrants. Show the World what the Moonlight Wake—what Silver Tide—really stands for."

"Fin—"

"He branded me," Fin said. "He wanted to own me. To break me. But I'm still here. I'm still free. And I'm not going to let him take that away."

Snive was quiet.

"I'm scared," Fin admitted. "I'm still having nightmares. I still feel the curse sometimes, even though it's gone. But I can't keep running. I have to do something. I have to make this mean something."

Snive looked at him—this seventeen-year-old kid who'd been through hell and was still standing.

"Then let's do it," Snive said.

Fin turned to face the crew.

They were watching him, waiting.

"Listen up!" Fin called, his voice stronger than he felt.

The crew gathered around.

"We've been running for weeks," Fin said. "Hiding. Trying to stay out of sight. But it's not working. Lamont found us anyway. And he'll keep finding us."

The crew murmured, uneasy.

"So we're going to stop running," Fin said. "We're going to sail openly. Help people who need it. Stand against those who abuse their power. Show the world what Silver Tide and the Moonlight Wake really stands for."

He paused.

"This won't be easy. Lamont will keep hunting us. There will be danger. But we'll face it together. As a Crew. As a Family. If you want to. You're not forced to stay."

The Crew was silent.

Then Kenna stepped forward. "I'm with you, Captain."

Marcus nodded. "So am I."

One by one, the Crew voiced their support.

And finally, Snive. "Always."

Fin smiled—fragile, but real.

"Then let's show them what we're made of."

That night, Fin had another nightmare.

But this time, when he woke, he didn't scream.

He just lay there, breathing, feeling the Ship beneath him.

The scar on his chest ached.

But he was alive.

He was free.

And that was all he ever really wanted.

CHAPTER 13

 

The Moonlight Wake sailed into the shipping lanes near the Crescent Isles.

It was a busy route—merchant vessels, fishing boats, trade ships moving between ports.

And it was also a hunting ground for Pirates.

Fin stood at the helm, his hand steady on the wheel.

The scar on his chest still ached sometimes, especially in the cold. But he'd stopped hiding it.

He wore his shirt open at the collar now, the edge of the branded L visible.

A reminder.

Not of what Lamont had done to him.

But of what he'd survived.

"Captain," Swing called from the crow's nest. "Ship ahead. Looks like trouble."

Fin raised his spyglass.

A merchant vessel—small, unarmed—was being circled by a larger pirate ship.

The pirate ship's crew was shouting, firing warning shots, forcing the merchant to stop.

"They're going to board her," Snive said grimly.

Fin lowered the spyglass. "Not if we get there first."

Kenna grinned. "Now we're talking."

"All hands!" Fin shouted. "Prepare for engagement! We're going in!"

The Crew scrambled into action.

The Moonlight Wake surged forward, her silver hull gleaming in the sunlight.

The Pirate Ship saw them coming.

For a moment, they hesitated—staring at the impossible silver Ship cutting through the water.

Then their Captain shouted orders. "It's the Moonlight Wake! Prepare to fight!"

But they were too slow.

The Moonlight Wake was faster.

Fin brought the ship alongside the pirate vessel, close enough that the crews could see each other clearly.

"Stand down!" Fin shouted. "Leave the merchant alone, or you'll answer to me!"

The Pirate Captain—a scarred, grizzled man with a cutlass in his hand—laughed. "You think I'm afraid of you, boy?"

Fin's expression didn't change. "You should be."

The Pirate Captain's smile faltered.

Because behind Fin, his Crew stood ready—armed, disciplined, and utterly Loyal.

And the Moonlight Wake herself was a Legend.

"Last chance," Fin said. "Leave. Now."

The pirate captain looked at his crew, then back at Fin.

He spat over the side of his ship and turned away, shouting orders to his crew.

The pirate ship turned and sailed away.

The merchant crew stared at the Moonlight Wake in awe.

Fin called across the water. "Are you all right?"

The merchant captain—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes—nodded shakily. "Yes. Thanks to you. We... we thought we were done for."

"You're safe now," Fin said. "Do you need supplies? Repairs?"

"No," she said. "We're fine. Just... thank you. Thank you so much."

Fin nodded. "Safe travels."

As the Moonlight Wake pulled away, the merchant captain called out, "Who are you?"

Fin looked back.

"Silver Tide," he said simply.

And he sailed on.

 

Word spread fast.

By the time the Moonlight Wake reached the next port, the story had already arrived.

Silver Tide saved a merchant ship from pirates.

He didn't ask for payment. Didn't take anything. Just helped and left.

The Moonlight Wake is real. And she's protecting honest sailors.

Fin heard the whispers as he walked through the market.

People stared.

Some with fear. Some with awe. Some with hope.

A young boy tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Is that him? Is that Silver Tide?"

The mother pulled her son close, but she didn't look afraid.

She looked... grateful.

Fin passed a pair of port guards standing near the docks. They saw him—there was no mistaking the young pirate captain from the legendary silver ship everyone was talking about. As a wanted criminal, he should have been arrested on sight.

But the guards exchanged a glance, then looked away.

They'd heard the stories too. The merchants he'd saved. The pirates he'd driven off. The people he'd helped.

They let him walk in peace.

Fin kept walking.

 

Back on the ship, Snive found him at the helm.

"You know what you've done, don't you?" Snive said.

"What?" Fin asked.

"You've given them hope," Snive said. "The merchants, the fishermen, the honest sailors who've been preyed on by pirates and tyrants alike. They're going to start looking for you. Counting on you."

Fin was quiet.

"Is that what you want?" Snive asked.

Fin looked out at the sea.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But it feels right."

Snive smiled. "Then we keep going."

 

Over the next few weeks, the Moonlight Wake became a familiar sight in the shipping lanes.

They stopped Pirate attacks.

They escorted vulnerable merchant ships through dangerous waters.

They helped a fishing village whose boats had been destroyed by a storm.

They stood between a corrupt port official and the sailors he was extorting.

And everywhere they went, the Legend grew.

Silver Tide doesn't prey on the innocent.

He protects those who can't protect themselves.

He's a Pirate with Honor.

Fin didn't ask for thanks. Didn't ask for payment.

He just did what felt right.

And slowly, the fear that had haunted him since Lamont's cell began to fade.

He was still scared sometimes.

He still had nightmares.

But he wasn't running anymore.

He was standing.

And fighting.

And becoming exactly who he was meant to be.

One evening, the Crew gathered on deck, sharing a meal under the stars.

Kenna raised her cup. "To the Captain!"

The Crew cheered.

Fin smiled, embarrassed but grateful.

"To the crew," he said. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Damn right," Marcus said, grinning.

Snive leaned back, watching Fin with quiet pride.

The boy he'd met in Lamont's prison—broken, desperate, grieving—was gone.

In his place was a Captain.

A Legend.

Silver Tide.

CHAPTER 14

 

Lord Admiral Quincy Lamont stood in his newly repaired office aboard the Relentless.

The fire damage had been extensive. It had taken weeks to make the ship seaworthy again.

Weeks of humiliation.

Weeks of failure.

His crew whispered behind his back. His superiors questioned his competence. His reputation—once untouchable—was tarnished.

All because of Finian Bollard.

But at least the boy was dead.

The cursed blade had done its work. Lamont had seen the wound spreading, the dark veins creeping through Bollard's body like poison.

Even if his crew had somehow rescued him, the curse would have killed him within days.

It was the only consolation Lamont had.

Bollard was dead.

The Moonlight Wake was still out there—stolen, taunting him—but at least the thief was gone.

A knock at the door.

"Enter," Lamont said.

One of his officers stepped in, holding a report. "Sir. You asked to be informed of any sightings of the Moonlight Wake."

Lamont's jaw tightened. "What is it?"

"Multiple reports, sir," the officer said. "The ship has been seen in the shipping lanes near the Crescent Isles. She's been... active."

"Active?" Lamont said sharply. "What does that mean?"

The officer hesitated. "She's been stopping pirate attacks. Escorting merchant vessels. Helping sailors in distress."

Lamont stared at him. "What?"

"The crew is still operating, sir," the officer said carefully. "With Captain Bollard, they've continued—"

"Bollard is dead," Lamont snapped. "The curse killed him."

The officer shifted uncomfortably. "Sir... the reports mention him. By name."

Lamont went very still. "What?"

"Witnesses say they've seen him, sir. Captain Finian Bollard. Alive. Commanding the Moonlight Wake."

For a moment, Lamont didn't move.

Then he snatched the report from the officer's hands and read it.

Silver Tide saved our ship from pirates. He spoke to us. He's alive.

The Moonlight Wake is protecting the shipping lanes. Captain Bollard is leading them.

I saw him with my own eyes. The scar on his chest—the brand. He's alive.

Lamont's hands shook.

"No," he said quietly. "No. That's impossible."

"Sir—"

"The curse should have killed him!" Lamont shouted, slamming the report onto his desk. "I used a blade blessed by the Sea Witch herself! The magic was supposed to spread, to consume him, to kill him slowly and painfully!"

The officer said nothing.

Lamont paced, his mind racing.

If Bollard was alive, that meant someone had broken the curse.

Someone powerful.

Someone with magic strong enough to counter the Sea Witch's work.

"How?" Lamont demanded. "How is he still alive?"

The officer didn't answer.

Because he didn't know.

Lamont's humiliation burned even hotter as he remembered that night.

The fires. The chaos.

He'd smelled the smoke, heard the shouting, and charged out of the privy in a panic—his pants still unfastened, trailing behind him.

He'd tripped in the hallway, sprawling in front of his own guards in nothing but his undergarments.

They'd seen him. Scrambling. Undignified. Powerless.

By the time he'd made it to the deck, properly dressed and furious, Bollard and his crew were already gone.

The Moonlight Wake had escaped.

And his men had seen their Lord Admiral fall on his face in his underwear.

The whispers had spread through the fleet within days.

It was a humiliation he would never live down.

And it was all because of Finian Bollard.

Lamont stood at the window, staring out at the sea.

Silver Tide was alive.

The boy he'd captured. Tortured. Branded.

The boy he'd left to die in a cell.

Alive.

And not just alive—thriving.

Helping people. Building his legend. Becoming a hero.

Lamont's hands curled into fists.

"He should be dead," Lamont said, his voice low and venomous. "He should be rotting in the ocean. But instead, he's out there, playing the savior. Making a mockery of me."

The officer cleared his throat. "What are your orders, sir?"

Lamont turned, his eyes cold and hard.

"Find him," Lamont said. "I don't care how. I don't care what it takes. Find Finian Bollard and bring him to me."

"And if he resists, sir?"

"Then kill him," Lamont said. "But I want proof. I want to see his body. I want to know he's dead."

The officer saluted. "Yes, sir."

He left.

Lamont stood alone in his office, staring at the report.

Bollard was alive.

And that was unacceptable.

That night, Lamont couldn't sleep.

He kept seeing Bollard's face—defiant, even as the cursed blade cut into his chest.

He kept hearing the boy's screams.

And now, knowing Bollard had survived, knowing he was out there, free and celebrated—

It was unbearable.

Lamont rose from his bed and paced.

The curse should have worked.

The Sea Witch had promised him.

But it hadn't been enough.

Finian had escaped. Again.

Lamont's jaw tightened.

If the curse wasn't enough, he needed something stronger.

Something that would guarantee Bollard's death.

Something the boy couldn't escape from.

Lamont pulled on his coat and left his quarters.

He walked through the ship, past sleeping crew members, past guards who saluted as he passed.

He went to the small locked chest in his private storage.

Inside was a single object: a black stone, smooth and cold, marked with strange symbols.

The Sea Witch had given it to him as a gift when he'd acquired the cursed blade.

"A token," she'd said, her voice like silk and venom. "If you ever need more... come find me. I have other services to offer. Far more powerful than a simple blade."

Lamont had dismissed it at the time.

But now...

Now he was listening.

He picked up the stone.

It was cold in his hand, unnaturally so.

And as he held it, he made a decision.

He would return to the Sea Witch.

And this time, he wouldn't settle for a cursed blade.

This time, he would ask for something that would destroy Finian Bollard completely.

No matter the cost.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," Lamont said sharply.

The same officer from earlier stepped in, holding a sealed letter. "This just arrived, sir. From the Naval Council."

Lamont took the letter and broke the seal.

He read it quickly, his jaw tightening with every line.

Lord Admiral Lamont,

The Council has received multiple reports regarding your continued pursuit of the pirate vessel Moonlight Wake and her captain, Finian Bollard. While we understand your commitment to eliminating piracy, we have concerns about the resources being devoted to this singular objective.

You are hereby summoned to appear before the Naval Council at Regalia Bay within the fortnight to discuss your recent actions and strategic priorities.

We expect your prompt attendance.

—The Naval Council

 

Lamont stared at the letter.

Summoned.

Like a common sailor being called before his superiors.

They thought they could question him. Judge him. Tell him how to do his job.

Fools.

They didn't understand what Bollard represented. What the Moonlight Wake meant.

It wasn't just about one pirate. It was about control. Authority. Proving that no one—no one—could steal from Quincy Lamont and live.

He crumpled the letter in his fist.

"Sir?" the officer asked carefully.

"Dismissed," Lamont said coldly.

The officer left.

Lamont stood, walked to the window, and threw the crumpled letter into the sea.

The Council could wait.

He had more important business.

 

CHAPTER 15

 

The Moonlight Wake sailed into the port of Harborview under a clear blue sky.

Word of their arrival had already spread.

By the time they docked, a small crowd had gathered on the pier.

Merchants. Sailors. Families.

All of them watching.

Waiting.

Fin stood at the helm, his hand steady on the wheel.

He could feel their eyes on him. On the ship. On the legend.

"They're staring," Kenna said quietly.

"Let them," Fin said.

He wasn't hiding anymore.

As the crew secured the ship, a man approached the gangplank.

He was older, weathered, with the look of someone who'd spent his life at sea.

"Captain Bollard?" he called.

Fin stepped forward. "That's me."

The man hesitated, then spoke. "My name is Barrett Thorpe. I'm a merchant captain. My ship was attacked by pirates three weeks ago. They took everything—cargo, supplies, even my crew's wages. We barely escaped with our lives."

Fin listened.

"I heard what you've been doing," Thorpe continued. "Stopping pirates. Helping honest sailors. I... I was hoping you might help us."

"Help you how?" Fin asked.

"The pirates who attacked us—they're still out there. Operating near the Serpent's Teeth. They've hit four ships in the last month. No one's been able to stop them."

Thorpe looked at Fin with desperate hope. "But you could. You're Silver Tide. If anyone can stop them, it's you."

Fin was quiet for a moment.

Then he nodded. "Where are they?"

The Moonlight Wake found the pirate ship two days later, anchored in a hidden cove near the Serpent's Teeth.

It was a large vessel, well-armed, with a crew that looked experienced and dangerous.

"That's them," Snive said, lowering his spyglass. "The Crimson Fang. Captain's name is Harrow. He's got a reputation for being ruthless."

"Good," Fin said. "Then he'll understand what happens when you prey on innocent people."

The Moonlight Wake sailed into the cove, her silver hull gleaming in the sunlight.

The pirates saw them coming.

Harrow—a tall, scarred man with a cruel smile—stood at the bow of his ship, watching.

"Well, well," Harrow called. "The famous Moonlight Wake. I was wondering when you'd show up."

Fin brought his ship alongside the Crimson Fang.

"You've been attacking merchant ships," Fin said. "Stealing their cargo. Hurting innocent people."

Harrow laughed. "That's what pirates do, boy. Or did you forget?"

"I didn't forget," Fin said. "But there's a difference between being a pirate and being a monster. You crossed that line."

Harrow's smile faded. "You think you can stop me?"

"I know I can," Fin said.

Harrow drew his sword. "Then come and try."

The fight was brutal.

Harrow's crew outnumbered Fin's, but the Moonlight Wake's crew was disciplined, loyal, and fighting for something bigger than treasure.

They fought for the people Harrow had hurt.

For the merchants who couldn't defend themselves.

For the idea that pirates didn't have to be monsters.

Fin faced Harrow on the deck of the Crimson Fang, their swords clashing.

Harrow was strong, experienced, and vicious.

But Fin was faster.

And he was fighting for something Harrow couldn't understand.

Fin disarmed him with a swift strike, sending Harrow's sword clattering across the deck.

Harrow stumbled back, breathing hard, his eyes wide with shock.

"You're done," Fin said. "Leave these waters. Stop attacking innocent ships. Or next time, I won't be so merciful."

Harrow stared at him. "You're letting me go?"

"I'm giving you a choice," Fin said. "Change, or face the consequences."

Harrow looked at his crew, then back at Fin.

He spat on the deck and turned away, shouting orders to his crew.

The Crimson Fang raised anchor and sailed out of the cove.

 

The Moonlight Wake sailed away, leaving the pirates behind.

Fin's crew cheered, victorious.

But Fin didn't celebrate.

He stood at the helm, watching the horizon.

"You did good," Snive said, joining him.

"Did I?" Fin asked. "I let him go. What if he doesn't change? What if he keeps hurting people?"

"Then you'll stop him again," Snive said. "But you gave him a chance. That's more than most would do."

Fin nodded slowly.

"You're not like other pirates, Fin," Snive said. "You're building something different. Something better."

Fin looked at him. "I hope so."

 

When they returned to Harborview, Barrett Thorpe was waiting on the pier.

"Did you find them?" he asked.

"We did," Fin said. "They won't be bothering you anymore."

Thorpe's face flooded with relief. "Thank you. Thank you so much." He gestured to several crates stacked nearby. "I know you don't ask for payment, but please—take these. Fresh supplies, rope, sailcloth, preserved food. It's the least I can do."

Fin hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you. We appreciate it."

Over the next hour, as the crew prepared to depart, others quietly approached.

A fisherman left barrels of salted fish on the dock. "For the crew," he said simply, then walked away before they could thank him.

A seamstress brought bundles of fabric. "For sails, or clothes, whatever you need."

A blacksmith set down a box of nails and tools without a word, just a respectful nod.

It wasn't a spectacle. Just quiet gratitude from people who'd heard what the Moonlight Wake was doing.

Kenna supervised loading the supplies, shaking her head in wonder. "We help people, and they help us back."

"That's how it should work," Snive said.

 

As the crew finished securing the last of the supplies, Davey accidentally dropped a barrel of salted fish.

It rolled across the deck, picking up speed, heading straight for Swing who was coiling rope.

"INCOMING!" Davey shouted.

Swing looked up just in time to leap out of the way. The barrel crashed into the rail and split open, spilling fish everywhere.

The crew froze.

Then Fin started laughing.

It was the first real, genuine laugh anyone had heard from him in weeks.

"Davey," Fin said, grinning, "you're supposed to catch the supplies, not launch them overboard."

"I was catching it!" Davey protested. "It just... didn't want to be caught."

"Clearly," Kenna said, trying not to smile as she picked up a fish. "Because now it's all over the deck."

Swing held up a fish, examining it. "Well, at least we know dinner's fresh."

The crew burst into laughter.

Fin shook his head, still grinning. "All right, all right. Everyone help clean this up before we attract every seagull in the harbor."

As they worked together, scooping up fish and joking about Davey's "fishing technique," Snive watched Fin.

The boy was smiling. Laughing. Teasing his crew.

He still had nightmares. He still carried the scar.

But he was healing.

And moments like this—silly, joyful, normal—were proof that Lamont hadn't broken him.

Fin caught Snive's eye and grinned. "What? You're not going to help?"

Snive smiled. "I'm supervising."

"Supervising," Fin repeated, laughing. "Right. Get over here and grab a fish, old man."

"Old man?" Snive said, mock-offended. "I'll show you old."

He grabbed a fish and tossed it at Fin.

Fin caught it, laughing, and tossed it back.

Within seconds, the entire crew was laughing, tossing fish, making a complete mess.

And for those few minutes, they weren't pirates or legends or survivors.

They weren't just a crew.

They were a family.

And they were Happy.

 

As the Moonlight Wake prepared to leave, a small crowd had gathered on the pier.

Not demanding. Not celebrating loudly.

Just watching. Waving.

A young girl held up a crudely drawn picture of the Moonlight Wake, her face bright with excitement.

An old sailor saluted as they passed.

A merchant captain called out, "Safe travels, Silver Tide!"

Fin felt something shift in his chest.

This was what he was meant to do.

Not just survive.

Not just run.

But stand. Fight. Protect.

Be the legend people needed.

And the people—they took care of his crew in return.

That night, the crew gathered on deck under the stars.

"We're making a difference," Kenna said. "People are starting to believe in us."

"They're starting to believe in you," Marcus said, looking at Fin.

Fin shook his head. "It's not just me. It's all of us. We're doing this together."

Snive smiled. "You're right. But you're the one leading us. And you're doing a damn good job."

Fin looked at his crew—his family.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For believing in me. For standing with me. I couldn't do this without you."

"We know," Davey said, grinning. "That's why we're here."

The crew laughed.

Fin felt hope again.

For the first time in what felt like a very long time.

Hope.

CHAPTER 17

 

Three months had passed since Fin's recovery.

Three months of sailing openly, helping those in need, and building the legend of Silver Tide.

The Moonlight Wake had become a symbol.

Not of fear.

But of hope.

Fin stood at the helm, watching the sun set over the horizon.

The scar on his chest no longer ached as much. The nightmares had become less frequent.

He was healing.

Not just physically, but in every way that mattered.

Snive joined him at the rail. "You've come a long way, Fin."

Fin smiled. "We all have."

"True," Snive said. "But I'm talking about you specifically. When I first met you in that cell, you were broken. Desperate. Grieving."

Fin's smile faded slightly. "I remember."

"And now look at you," Snive continued. "You're a captain. A legend. A symbol of hope for people who have none."

Fin was quiet for a moment.

"I'm still scared sometimes," he admitted. "I still have nightmares. I still wonder if I'm doing the right thing."

"That's what makes you a good captain," Snive said. "You care. You question. You choose compassion even when it's hard."

Fin looked at him. "You think I'm doing the right thing?"

"I know you are," Snive said firmly. "And so does everyone else."

The crew had gathered on deck for the evening meal.

They sat together, sharing food and stories, laughing and joking like the family they'd become.

Kenna was teasing Davey about the fish incident.

Marcus was reading aloud from a book he'd found in port.

Garrett and Emerson were playing a card game.

Lena was mending a sail, humming quietly to herself.

Swing was up in the rigging, keeping watch.

And Fin sat among them, listening, smiling, feeling more at home than he ever had.

"Captain," Kenna said, raising her cup. "A toast."

The crew quieted, turning to look at her.

"To the Moonlight Wake," Kenna said. "And to the best damn captain on the seas."

"To Silver Tide!" the crew cheered.

Fin felt his face flush. "I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," Marcus interrupted, grinning. "Accept it, Captain. You're stuck with us."

The crew laughed.

Fin shook his head, smiling. "Then I'm the luckiest captain alive."

Later that night, Fin stood alone at the bow of the ship.

The sea was calm, the stars bright overhead.

He thought about everything that had happened.

Losing the Fair Winds.

Meeting Snive.

Stealing the Moonlight Wake.

Being hunted by Lamont.

Captured. Tortured. Cursed.

Saved.

Healed.

And now... this.

A crew who believed in him.

A ship that was his home.

A legend that was growing with every choice he made.

He touched the scar on his chest—the branded L that Lamont had carved into him.

It didn't hurt anymore.

It was just a reminder.

Of what he'd survived.

Of who he'd become.

Of the choices he'd made.

"Can't sleep?" a voice asked.

Fin turned to see Snive approaching.

"Just thinking," Fin said.

Snive leaned against the rail beside him. "About?"

"Everything," Fin said. "How far we've come. What we're building. What it all means."

Snive nodded. "And what does it mean?"

Fin was quiet for a long moment.

"It means we're not just surviving anymore," he said finally. "We're living. We're making a difference. We're showing people that there's another way."

"And Lamont?" Snive asked carefully.

Fin's expression shifted—something complicated crossing his face. "He's still out there. Still hunting us."

He paused, his hand unconsciously moving to his chest, to the scar beneath his shirt.

"I want to say I'm not afraid of him anymore," Fin said quietly. "And maybe I'm not as afraid as I was. But... I don't know if that fear will ever completely go away."

"That's honest," Snive said. "And there's no shame in it. What he did to you—that doesn't just disappear."

"I know," Fin said. "But I won't let that fear control me. I won't let him control me. Not anymore."

Snive nodded. "That's all anyone can ask."

Fin looked at him, grateful.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything. For believing in me when I didn't believe in myself."

Snive smiled. "That's what family does."

The next morning, the Moonlight Wake sailed into open waters.

The crew was in high spirits, singing sea shanties and joking with each other.

Fin stood at the helm, his hand steady on the wheel, his heart light.

He didn't know what the future held.

He didn't know if Lamont would find them again.

He didn't know what challenges lay ahead.

But he knew one thing for certain:

He wasn't running anymore.

He was Silver Tide.

Captain of the Moonlight Wake.

Protector of the innocent.

And he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Swing called down from the crow's nest. "Captain! Clear skies ahead!"

Fin grinned. "Then let's make the most of them!"

The Moonlight Wake surged forward, her silver hull gleaming in the sunlight.

And as the ship cut through the waves, Fin felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Not just hope.

But certainty.

He was home.

 

EPILOGUE 

 

The Sea Witch's lair was not a place mortals stumbled upon by accident.

It existed in the spaces between—where the fog was thickest, where the water turned black, where compasses spun uselessly and stars disappeared from the sky.

Lord Admiral Quincy Lamont stood at the bow of a small boat, the black stone cold in his hand.

He'd left the Relentless anchored miles away. His crew didn't need to know where he was going.

What he was about to do.

The stone pulsed with a faint, sickly light, guiding him through the mist.

And then, suddenly, the fog parted.

Before him stood a structure that shouldn't exist—a ship made of bone and shadow, anchored in water that seemed to breathe.

The Sea Witch stood on the deck, waiting.

She was beautiful and terrible all at once—her hair like seaweed, her eyes like the depths of the ocean, her smile sharp as a blade.

"Lord Admiral," she said, her voice like silk and venom. "You've returned."

Lamont climbed aboard, his jaw tight. "I need more than a cursed blade."

"I know," the Sea Witch said, amused. "The boy survived. How... inconvenient for you."

Lamont's hands curled into fists. "He should be dead."

"And yet he lives," she said. "Thrives, even. Becomes a legend. How does that make you feel, Quincy?"

"Don't call me that," Lamont snapped.

The Sea Witch laughed—a sound like waves crashing against rocks. "Ah, yes. You hate that name. Your father's name. The name of a man who taught you that cruelty is strength and compassion is weakness."

Lamont's eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything about my father."

"I know everything," the Sea Witch said. "I know he beat you. Humiliated you. Told you that you were worthless unless you were feared. I know you've spent your entire life trying to prove him wrong. And failing."

Lamont's jaw tightened. "I didn't come here for a lecture."

"No," the Sea Witch said, circling him like a predator. "You came here because you're desperate. Because Finian Bollard has taken everything from you. Your ship. Your reputation. Your pride. And now, your certainty."

She stopped in front of him, her eyes gleaming. "You thought the curse would kill him. But someone broke it. Someone powerful. And now you don't know what to do."

"I know exactly what to do," Lamont said coldly. "I'm going to destroy him. Completely. No escape. No second chances. No mercy."

The Sea Witch smiled. "And you want my help."

"Yes."

"Then let's talk about the price," she said.

Lamont followed her below deck, into a chamber lit by strange, flickering lights.

The walls were covered in symbols he didn't recognize. The air smelled of salt and something darker—something ancient.

"The cursed blade was a simple thing," the Sea Witch said. "A taste of what I can offer. But if you want true power—power that can destroy Finian Bollard and everything he stands for—you'll need to make a real bargain."

"What kind of bargain?" Lamont asked.

The Sea Witch gestured to a table covered in objects—bones, shells, stones, and things Lamont couldn't identify.

"I can give you the power to summon spirits," she said. "Creatures of the deep. Monsters that obey only you. I can give you magic that will hunt Bollard no matter where he runs. I can give you the means to destroy him utterly."

Lamont's eyes gleamed. "And the price?"

"Your soul," the Sea Witch said simply.

Lamont stared at her.

"Not all at once," she continued. "But piece by piece. Every time you use the power I give you, you lose a little more of yourself. Your humanity. Your mercy. Your ability to feel anything but rage and hatred."

She leaned closer. "By the time you destroy Finian Bollard, you won't be Quincy Lamont anymore. You'll be something else. Something darker. Something that can never go back."

Lamont was silent.

"Is that a price you're willing to pay?" the Sea Witch asked.

Lamont thought of Bollard's face. Defiant. Free. Celebrated.

He thought of the whispers among his crew. The summons from the Naval Council. The humiliation of being bested by a seventeen-year-old boy.

He thought of his father's voice: You're worthless unless you're feared.

"Yes," Lamont said.

The Sea Witch smiled. "Then we have a deal."

She placed her hand over his heart.

Lamont felt something cold and sharp pierce through him—not physical pain, but something deeper.

Something breaking.

The Sea Witch whispered words in a language he didn't understand.

And then, suddenly, he could feel it.

Power.

Dark, terrible, intoxicating power.

It surged through him like a storm, filling every corner of his mind.

He could feel the ocean responding to him. The creatures in the deep. The spirits that lingered between life and death.

They were his to command.

"Use it wisely," the Sea Witch said, stepping back. "Or don't. Either way, it will be entertaining to watch."

Lamont looked at his hands. They felt different. Stronger. Colder

Go," the Sea Witch said, her smile sharp. "Hunt your Silver Tide. Destroy him, if you can."

She paused, her eyes gleaming with something that might have been amusement—or anticipation.

"But remember, Lord Admiral," she said softly. "Every choice has a consequence. And some debts can never be repaid."

Lamont didn't respond.

He turned and left, power thrumming through his veins and darkness settling into his heart.

He didn't care about consequences.

He didn't care about his soul.

All he cared about was one thing:

Finian Bollard would die.

And this time, nothing—and no one—would save him.

 

Far away, on the Moonlight Wake:

Fin woke suddenly, gasping.

He'd had a nightmare—not about the cell or the curse, but something else.

Something darker.

A storm on the horizon.

A shadow reaching for him.

And a voice, cold and venomous, whispering his name.

Snive appeared in the doorway. "Fin? You all right?"

Fin took a breath, steadying himself. "Yeah. Just... a bad dream."

But as he lay back down, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't shake the feeling.

Something was coming.

Something worse than before.

And this time, he didn't know if he'd be ready.

END OF BOOK 2 ...