POV: Beth
I wake to darkness, a cold stone beneath my cheek, my bones aching like they were scraped raw. A ringing lives inside my skull. For a moment I don’t remember where I am. Then the memory slams into me—the chamber, the sword, the blinding power that burst out of me like a storm breaking skin.
I sit up slowly. Everything is quiet. Too quiet.
The chamber no longer screams with monsters or magic—they all lie scattered around us, limp and cold. Sea-wraiths dissolving into mist. Barnacle creatures curling like dead spiders. Their bodies—all gone now—dust on the floor. Only scorch-marks and puddles of seawater remain.
I did that.
My fingertips tremble. Power tingles under my skin like lightning desperate for release.
Voices break the silence.
“She’s cursed.”
“She killed them without touching anything.”
“What if she kills us next?”
I turn and see the crew, huddled near the tunnel exit. Eyes wide, some with hands on hilts, others backing away as if I were the monster in this room—not the ones that tried to tear us apart.
Kaine tightens his jaw but doesn’t move closer. Clove avoids looking at me entirely. Karn mutters a prayer under his breath. The atmosphere tastes like cold blood and fresh fear.
Mira steps forward first.
Her voice is silk, too soft in this dead place. “Beth…” She kneels beside me and touches my shoulder gently. “Are you hurt?”
I want to believe her. For a moment, I almost lean in.
But something in her eyes gleams wrong—warm concern on the surface, calculation beneath like a snake smiling. Still, she’s the only one not flinching away from me. That fact alone cracks something in my chest.
The crew watches us. Carefully. Cautiously.
Then a sailor whispers harshly, “Monster.”
Another spits on the ground. “Sea witch.”
A third drawls, “Throw her overboard before she curses the ship.”
I freeze.
My heart crashes against my ribs, but my body cannot move. I expect Alaric to laugh with them, to nod that it’s reasonable, logical even. I wait for the mockery, the dismissal, the sharp tongue he always uses to keep walls up between us.
Instead—
His blade is out instantly.
“Say that again,” he growls low at the closest man.
The entire chamber stills.
Alaric stands like a thundercloud about to break. His voice is cold steel, nothing like his usual careless smirk. He looks feral—protective—terrifying.
“She saved your lives,” he snaps, pushing the man back with the blade’s edge. “Show some damned gratitude.”
The man gulps hard, nods quickly, stepping away.
I stare at Alaric. He doesn’t look at me. He’s breathing hard, jaw clenched, shoulders tense like he’s fighting himself more than the crew.
Then he turns—not soft, not gentle—just… controlled.
“We’re leaving,” he commands. “Now. Before the abyss wakes again.”
Everyone obeys instantly.
We move through the tunnels. I follow silently, my breath shaky, my thoughts spinning. No one walks beside me. Even footsteps seem to avoid mine. The crew keeps distance, whispers crawling behind my back like insects.
“Did you see her eyes glow?”
“She isn’t human.”
“What if she summons storms?”
Mira walks on my left, close enough for others to notice. She sighs softly like an overly gentle friend.
“They fear what they don’t understand,” she murmurs. “You were magnificent, Beth. Terrifying, yes… but powerful.”
Her hand glides down my arm. I swallow. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You don’t have to mean it,” she whispers. “You just have to use it.”
Chills spike across my spine.
We reach daylight eventually. The entrance spits us out into sunlight and salt air. My lungs expand finally—but it doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like stepping into a new skin that doesn’t fit yet.
The crew boards the ship in tense silence.
Kaine hesitates at the ramp, glances at me like he wants to speak—maybe comfort, maybe warn—then decides against it and looks away. Karn avoids eye contact entirely. Clove touches a talisman at his neck as though protection will ward me off.
When I step aboard, conversations kill themselves. Heads bow. People step aside like I am fire.
I am not welcomed anymore. I am tolerated.
Alaric stands on the quarterdeck, watching the horizon instead of me. His knuckles share the same shade as bone where they clutch the wheel. Blood stains his shirt from earlier injuries, but he acts like he doesn’t feel pain. He always does.
I walk up the steps slowly.
He doesn’t turn.
“I didn’t mean to frighten them,” I whisper.
His jaw flexes. “Monsters rarely mean to.”
The words strike like a blade. I breathe sharply. He still doesn’t look at me.
“Is that what you think I am?” I ask.
Silence.
The ocean wind howls around us. Waves crash against the hull like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
Finally he whispers, strained, “I think I don’t know what you are anymore.”
It hurts more than any wound I’ve bled from. Mira watches from the deck below, smile like a quiet slice of satisfaction.
Crew begins raising sails. We depart—away from the sword, away from answers, away from safety.
I look back one last time. The cave disappears under rising mist, glowing faintly like a heartbeat I left behind.
I should’ve been the one to take the sword. But I wasn’t ready. And everyone knows it.
Tonight the ship sails heavy with silence. Not because I am weak. But because I am feared.