POV: Beth
The sea turned gray as death hours before we reached it. Even the waves felt reluctant, rolling us forward like a condemned soul being walked toward the hangman’s rope. No gulls cried overhead—only skeletal birds perched on ruined masts, their feathers long rotted away, leaving only bone and a flutter of ghostly white tendons. They didn’t move, didn’t blink. They only watched.
Kaine spat over the railing. “Port of Bones,” he muttered. “A graveyard for ships—and the fools who sail into it.”
My stomach twisted. “And we’re sailing in willingly?”
Alaric gave no answer from where he stood at the bow. His silhouette looked carved from storm itself—coat snapping in the wind, jaw set in that way that meant he was hiding fear behind arrogance. The crew whispered prayers. Mira twirled a dagger with casual grace, as if this place was just another tavern floor.
Maybe she belonged to darkness better than I did.
We drifted between ribs of shattered hulls, half-sunk galleons split like carcasses. Harpoons jutted from timbers like hunted beasts frozen in their last scream. Every few breaths, I swore I saw silhouettes walking far-off decks—dead sailors still pacing, unaware they were bones.
The air tasted like rust and ancient grief.
“Keep your hands inside the rail,” Alaric ordered, voice low. “Some say the dead here remember warmth.”
“Are you trying to comfort me?” I whispered.
He didn’t look back. “If I was, you’d know. You’d be laughing.”
I would have, once. Not now.
A current caught the ship, pulling us deeper through the maze. The wood beneath us creaked as if a giant hand dragged us by the keel. I gripped the rail until my knuckles burned. Something massive moved below. Not Kraken—different. Quieter. Hungrier.
We dropped anchor near the shore of a crooked island shaped like a broken jaw. The sand was black—ash and bone dust.
No birds. No waves. Even wind held its breath.
We climbed down, boots sinking into soft remains. The ship graveyard loomed around us like a cathedral of corpses. Every rotten mast seemed a crucifix.
“Mira, Kaine—you two watch the perimeter,” Alaric commanded. “Beth with me.”
I stiffened. “Because you think I’ll faint?”
He shot me a side-smirk. “Because if anything whispers to you, I want to hear it too.”
As if summoned, a voice brushed my ear.
saltborn… stormblood… child of tide…
I froze. “Did you hear that?”
“No,” Alaric answered too quickly.
We moved toward the cliff where bones formed an archway over a cave mouth. Runic symbols glowed faintly blue on the stone—like drowned stars. I reached out. The moment my skin touched cold rock, multiple voices surged inside my skull at once:
—she comes—she returns—storm bride—
—saltblood awakens—
—find the blind one—
—seek the mountains where the sea turns black—
—she waits—she sees you—
I ripped my hand away with a gasp. My heartbeat hammered like a war drum.
Alaric grabbed my wrist. “What happened? Your eyes—”
“Voices,” I whispered. “Dozens of them. They said… the witch waits. In a pirate port near the dangerous mountains. The sea will turn black.”
His grip tightened. “Only you heard?”
I nodded, trembling. For once, he didn’t mock me. He looked… shaken. Worried.
Maybe even impressed.
“We need that witch to decode the map,” I said, steadying myself. “If she knows about the sword, she might know about my father.”
“And power,” Alaric murmured, gaze flicking toward the runes glowing like warning lanterns. “Power enough to kill a prince.”
His hunger mirrored mine. It frightened me.
The cave behind the arch was empty—just cold tides swallowing bones. No witch. No path. Only whispers echoing like tides against skulls.
We searched deeper, but all we found were remains—piles of ribcages, rusted cutlasses still held in skeletal hands. A crown of barnacles rested on one skull. I crouched, staring into its empty sockets.
“Do you think they knew they’d die here?” I whispered.
Alaric’s voice was quiet. “Everyone dies somewhere. Pirates just choose places worth the story.”
I almost smiled. Almost.
We turned back to the ship with silence trailing like ghosts. Crew members looked shaken. Mira paced restlessly, eyes sharp on me.
“You found something, didn’t you, little saltblood?” she purred.
I stiffened. “What did you call me?”
Her grin was slow and wicked. “News travels. Whispers follow you. The sea speaks, doesn’t it?”
“Enough.” Alaric stepped between us, voice steel. “We leave at dawn.”
Mira’s gaze flicked to him—soft, dangerous. Then to me—sharp as a blade. A challenge. A promise.
Night fell like a shroud. Skeleton-gulls still watched, unmoving. I lay awake listening to the whispers that never stopped.
Storm bride… find the blind one… mountains… blood… crown…
My destiny tasted like iron.
And I knew—Port of Bones was only the beginning.