POV: Beth
Sleep came to me like drowning.
One moment I lay beside the dying campfire, rain whispering above the palm leaves, the others snoring in disorganized heaps of exhaustion—Alaric turned away from me as always, ever the silhouette made of arrogance—and the next, the world dissolved beneath me like wet paper.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Then came water.
Cold, endless, pulling at my ankles as if it wanted my bones. I blinked and found myself standing knee-deep in a black ocean under a moon the color of old bone. The horizon was infinite—too still, too silent, like the world was holding its breath waiting for me to make a mistake.
I turned slowly. “Hello?”
My voice cracked. A pathetic sound swallowed by dark waves.
A ripple answered. Not water—something inside the water.
Beth.
I stiffened. My name didn’t echo—it curled through me, intimate as breath against my ear. The ocean shifted. Something rose from the tide with elegance no corpse should have.
She appeared crowned in barnacles and white pearls that dripped like tears. Hair floated around her like black ink in deep water, her gown torn sails and netting clinging to ribs visible beneath pale sea-kissed skin. Her eyes glowed faint green—lanterns lost under waves.
I didn’t need to be told. I knew her. Morwenna—the drowned queen of pirate legends mothers used to scare children.
And she was beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful.
“Child of tide,” she whispered. Her voice didn’t break the air—it slid into my mind like a knife sheathed in silk. “You run from truth as though land could save you.”
I stepped back, but the water dragged up to my hips like tar. “I’m not— I’m not pirate-blood. I’m—”
Her fingertip brushed my cheek. Ice. I felt it through bone. “You deny the sea. It will shatter you.”
Thunder cracked above. The moon bled red light into the waves. The ocean around me churned into whirlpools. I stumbled, heart pounding, but my legs wouldn’t move. Morwenna watched me not like a queen—but like a god disappointed in her child.
“What do you want from me?” I choked out.
“Not want.” Her smile was both pity and power. “Warn.”
The sea opened beneath me like a gaping maw. The moon split like ripped cloth. I sank—dragged under violently. Salt filled my lungs. I screamed but sound was eaten by the deep.
Below, something colossal moved. A shadow like serpent, mountain, god. A single tremor from it shook the ocean floor. Tentacles brushed my ankle—cold as death.
Morwenna’s voice wrapped around me like chains.
Storm Bride.
Bone will bow, kings will drown.
The Kraken will kneel.
You will call the sea by name.
I thrashed. Panic tore through me like claws. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of it. Mother, who were you? What curse did you leave in my blood?
My lungs screamed. Blackness pressed tight against my skull. Just as I thought I would die, hands seized my shoulders—not watery specters, but real. Warm.
I sat up with a gasp.
Firelight flickered. Rain hissed softly. The crew slept in twisted shapes. My chest heaved as if I’d truly drowned. My hair, my skin—everything felt wet though no rain reached me.
I pressed a shaking hand to my wrist.
The pirate mark shimmered faintly—glowing like starfish light.
Storm Bride.
Kraken will kneel.
“No.” My voice trembled. “No, that can’t be me.”
The ocean answered with a wave rolling higher onto shore, touching my feet like a greeting.
I rose unsteadily and walked toward the water. Every step felt like giving in. Like sinking. The sea reflected the moon, serene now, mockingly gentle. My fingers grazed the surface and it rippled in spirals—recognizing me.
“Why me?” I whispered, voice cracking like thin glass. “I never asked for this. I just wanted to be happy. I wanted a future. A family. A dance floor and warm wine. Not… this.”
The water retreated, then surged forward—brushing my toes again, like reassurance. Or claim.
Behind me, someone stirred. Alaric turned in his sleep, brow tense, like he sensed something wrong. I watched him for a long second. He looked younger asleep. Softer. A version untouched by rage and loss.
Once, I would’ve thought him handsome.
Now he terrified me more than the dream—because part of me didn’t hate him anymore.
I returned to the sleeping circle slowly. Lay down. Eyes open until dawn. The sea whispered just out of hearing, like my name on every wave.
Something inside me had changed. Not broken—awakened. I was no longer just runaway bride. Not simply pirate spawn.
Something ancient had opened its eyes in me.
And I could never go back.