POV: Beth
Darkness wrapped around us like damp cloth as we moved deeper through the Leviathan passage. The torchlight flickered orange across bone walls, warping shadows into twisted silhouettes that felt alive. Every footstep echoed—mine, then the crew’s—hesitant, uneven. Fear made the air tight. Or maybe it was me. Maybe I was the reason everyone walked like the ground might collapse beneath them.
Because the further we went, the more I felt the ocean whispering in my veins, calling my pulse to its rhythm. The pull grew stronger—magnetic, ancient. Like a voice saying this way, Storm Bride.
I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Alaric.
The corridor widened into a rotunda chamber—circular, domed ceiling ribbed with vertebrae as large as mast beams. In the center stood another altar, smaller than before, built of coral and driftwood polished to pearl sheen. Around it—carvings of a serpent leviathan spiraling upward toward a crown.
The map piece Alaric gripped buzzed faintly.
“Looks like a ritual point,” Kaine muttered.
I swallowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning either treasure or death,” Alaric said dryly. “Depends how generous the gods feel.”
He stepped forward with the confidence of a man who never expects to die, even in a tomb filled with bones of fools who thought the same. I followed, though my legs trembled slightly. The others formed a half-circle around the altar, eyes sharp, distrust coiled tight in their posture like drawn bowstrings.
Kaine leaned close to Alaric. “Before we go further, we should count heads. Make sure none wandered off.”
Alaric frowned. “Why?”
Kaine lifted his torch higher—revealing something scratched into the far wall.
Crimson paint. Wet. Fresh.
A symbol.
A spiral like mine—but split down the center.
The mark of Mira’s crew.
My stomach dropped. “She’s here.”
Too late.
A slow, mocking clap echoed behind us—followed by footsteps.
I spun.
Mira stepped from the shadows at the chamber’s entrance, flanked by eight pirates armed to the teeth. Her red hair looked like blood under torchlight, lips curved in a venomous smile. Sea-silk coat glimmered, boots spotless, every inch of her screaming power and cruelty. The last time I saw her, she flirted with Alaric like he belonged in her pocket.
Now she stared at me as if I were prey she’d been waiting to bite.
“Well, well,” she purred, voice smooth like honey over knives. “Little runaway bride survived.”
My throat tightened. “What are you doing here?”
She sauntered closer, swaying hips like a challenge, her crew spreading out behind her like sharks scenting blood. “News spreads fast when a governor’s bastard starts opening tombs meant for monsters and kings.” Her eyes flicked to my glowing wrist. “I heard someone was playing Storm Goddess.”
Whispers among our crew sharpened like thorns. I felt their stares on my back—hot, suspicious, afraid.
Mira’s smile widened. “How delightful she opened the altar that tossed Alaric like a rag doll.” She looked him over slowly, mock pity dripping from each word. “You used to choose better company.”
Alaric’s jaw flexed. His eyes hardened into steel. “You shouldn’t be here, Mira.”
“Oh, but I should,” she breathed. “Because I came to take what’s mine.”
She snapped her fingers. Two of her pirates leaped forward, grabbing the ritual altar’s runes, beginning to chant foreign sea-words. Water coiled up around the coral base like awakening snakes.
My blood ran cold.
She was stealing the ritual.
The half-map.
Everything.
I lunged. “Stop!”
Mira’s blade met mine mid-air—steel clashed loud, sparking off bone. Her grin was sharp and intimate, faces inches apart. “You think you can stop me, little bud?”
Heat surged in my veins—fury mixed with humiliation. I swung harder, wild with instinct. She matched each strike with elegance and cruelty, never losing breath. Her knee hit my stomach—air left me. She shoved me back, laughing softly.
“You’re stronger than before,” she admitted, eyes flashing. “But still sloppy.”
“Keep talking,” I rasped, “I’ll cut that smirk off your face.”
I attacked again—not as noble daughter but as someone who’d bled, drowned, fought monsters. Steel screamed. We moved in a violent dance—my knife grazing her cheek, a thin line of blood blooming like red ink.
Mira’s eyes went cold.
She slashed fast; I ducked. The blade sliced a strand of my hair. She grabbed my wrist, twisted—pain shot up my arm—I hissed but didn’t drop my weapon. She leaned close enough that I smelled rum and lilacs on her breath.
“You will never be queen of anything,” she whispered. “Alaric will get bored of you. He always does.”
Her words stung deeper than any blade should. I shoved her back with a snarl—a sound I didn’t know I could make—and tackled her into the sand-strewn floor. We rolled, clawing, punching—less duel, more animal.
Somewhere behind, our crews clashed. Steel on steel. Screams. Water magic rumbling under stone.
I pinned Mira with shaking arms—she spat blood into my face—I reeled —
—and her knee drove into my ribs.
Pain burst white. She flipped us, straddling me, knife at my throat.
She smiled triumph. “This ends now—”
A blade pressed against her neck.
Dead stillness filled the chamber.
Alaric.
He stood behind her, one arm locked around Mira’s waist, cutlass glinting beneath her jaw. Blood streaked his face from earlier, hair tangled, chest rising heavy. His voice was death-tired and venom-soft.
“Let. Her. Go.”
Mira froze—not from fear, but from the intimacy of it. Their history hung thick as humidity. Her voice lowered to velvety whisper. “You came for her? I thought you only chased storms, Alaric. Not broken brides.”
His blade pressed harder—a bead of red formed on her throat.
“I came,” he said, voice steady, “because you’re about to die if you don’t.”
The pirates stopped fighting, watching—day breath caught in a single hungry second.
Mira’s eyes flicked to mine.
“Look at you,” she muttered. “He defends you.”
Bitterness—or jealousy—or both.
I pushed myself up slowly, breathing heavy, chest bruised. Alaric didn’t look away from Mira even once.
“Leave alive,” he said, voice like crackling fuse, “or I kill you here. Choose.”
Silence.
Torches sputtered.
Everyone waited—me included—pulse pounding, not knowing if we would spill blood or watch it spill on us.
Mira’s lips curled around a smile that tasted like poison and heartbreak both.