POV: Beth
We camped inside the Leviathan’s ribcage, torches sputtering blue against wet bone. The sword remained untouched behind us—chained but awake, like it listened.
Alaric paced the perimeter, jaw locked, refusing to look at me for too long. When he did, it was with that strange mix of fear, anger, envy—and something softer he would rather die than name.
The tension stretched like a drawn bow.
Kaine approached me first, voice low. “Captain nearly died touching that damn thing. You didn’t. I don’t know if that makes you blessed… or cursed.”
I met his stare. “Maybe both.”
Mira snorted from the corner. “Blessed, cursed—same thing in pirate world. Power wins men more than beauty, gold, or gods.”
She said it while eyeing Alaric. I hated how my chest twisted at that. Before I could answer, the chamber trembled. A cold wind slithered through the bones. Torches died one by one.
Clove swore. “Not good. Not good—”
Then I saw it. Figures emerging from the shadows—dripping, barnacle-crusted skeletal warriors with empty eye sockets glowing faint blue. Sea wraiths. Guardians of the sword.
One hissed—sound like breaking glass—and leapt.
Chaos detonated. Kaine drew his blade, roaring. Clove fired his pistol. Alaric stepped in front of me without thinking, swords drawn in both hands—one black steel, one stolen cutlass.
“Stay behind me,” he barked.
I stepped forward instead. “Stop protecting me like I’m breakable!”
“Because you are!” he shouted, parrying a wraith strike. Sparks flew. “Magic or not—you’re still mortal!”
The words stung worse than steel. I hated being shielded, coddled, dismissed. I wasn’t that trembling girl in a wedding gown anymore.
A wraith lunged for Alaric’s throat. Instinct surged—I moved first. My palm thrust forward, and water erupted from thin air, slamming the wraith back into bone pillars, shattering it.
Silence—just for a heartbeat.
Alaric stared at me like I’d grown wings or horns.
Maybe I had.
More wraiths surged.
Alaric grabbed my wrist, voice harsh with panic. “If you use power near the sword, it could kill you!”
“It could kill all of us if I don’t!”
He hesitated—a crack in his command. He didn’t know how to save us without me. And that terrified him more than monsters.
“Beth—”
I ripped my hand free. “Let me fight!”
Something inside me snapped open—not gentle, not kind—wild. The air tasted like lightning. My vision sharpened. Every drop of moisture in the chamber answered my pulse.
The wraiths closed in.
I stepped into them.
Water spun around me like blades. It cut through bone, through barnacle, through ancient magic. Each strike burned my veins—power too large for my mortal cage—but I didn’t stop.
Kaine shouted my name somewhere distant. Clove cursed in awe. Mira whispered, “Storm Bride,” like a prayer or prophecy.
Alaric fought beside me, but for once—not ahead of me. We moved like storm and sea, not protector and burden.
One wraith went for him from behind. Without thinking, I unleashed a wave that slammed into its spine, shattering it completely. The recoil threw me to my knees—pain like fire through my ribs.
Alaric caught me before I fell. His arms were home and prison at once.
“Beth,” he breathed, voice raw, “You’ll burn yourself alive.”
“I’d rather burn,” I panted, “than die powerless.”
His grip tightened painfully. “You think I want you powerless? No. I just—”
He never finished. The chamber screens tore open—a deafening shriek of magic meeting magic. Light exploded from my hands and the sword chains snapped, flaring with blinding white.
Everyone screamed. Or maybe that was me.
Power surged through me like the ocean crashing through a narrow gate—unstoppable, infinite, terrifying. I wasn’t controlling magic anymore.
Magic was controlling me.
My vision shattered into white. Every sound drowned. Every heartbeat thundered.
I saw Alaric’s face last—eyes wide, hand reaching, fear cracking through his arrogance.
Then everything went silent.
And darkness took me whole.