"I never was a praying man... but for her, let my knees touch the ground a thousand times in worship."
Born with the blood and darkness of the ocean god Cin, the Queen of the Black Seas must finish what her father started: Find Cin's Obelisk in the...
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The corner's of the world darken as exhaustion threatens to bury me within it's abysmal wake. Thin fingers force my clenched jaw open, the taste of aged bark meeting my dry tongue as the wood cuts off the screams that edge at my lips. The warm light of the oil lit lamp dances off of stone walls.
The Kiwit's poison has already begun to course through my veins.
My fingers convulse from the static shock of pain, lungs screaming from the short, inadequate breaths I take. Desperate to feel anything other than the burning fire in my blood, I sink my teeth into the bark until my jaw starts to throb. In the near distance, my sacred ship rests. Her beautiful black sails are nearly invisible against the night sky. A small light glows from the deck, the only sign that my crew remains. My chest heaves with exertion, sweat beading on my forehead as I shift my gaze back to the crackling fire and the dagger resting within it.
Another deep breath, and then my gloved hand grips the hilt. I rip it free, sending sparks into the black sky. The red blade glows in the limelight, mocking, taunting, and with one more breath I plunge it into my bleeding flesh.
My arm explodes in a shockwave of burning agony, forcing my jaw to lock down on the bark. Saliva pools, slipping past tight lips to glide down my chin. I clench my eyes shut against it all, refusing to make a sound, burying my screams deep within my black soul. The sound of skin sizzling as the hot blade slices into my wound echoes in the dark cavern. With feral determination, I cut out the poison ever so slowly. The stench of burning flesh makes my stomach churn, but I continue until every piece of poison is burned away.
With a grunt, I toss the bloodied blade aside and spit out the bark, pressing my lips to the wound and sucking. Iron fills my mouth along with the taste of rancid, leftover disease. I gag, spitting the residue on to the sand before repeating the process. Slowly, the excruciating fire in my blood begins to fade into a dull, throbbing ache. I collapse onto the sand, shaking gently. My mind is a fragile haze, eyes blinking to speed up this process. It isn't my first time, the aged wounds that adorn my body would tell anyone that. I wear a crown of scars, symbols of just how far I'm willing to go for what I want.
My vision clears ever so slowly, mind becoming free of the painful fog as I look up to the dripping ceiling. My breath evens out slowly, the comforting smell of saltwater slipping into my nose. The sand embraces me like a long lost lover, though sadly, I prefer the dark seas.
Two months at sail and I still haven't found Cin's Obelisk. Unlike lireal myths, I cannot hear the gods and therefore, I cannot hear their guidance. There was a small time with the black waters were enough for me. The growing darkness in my heart will no longer let it be so. For the first time in the 14 years since my father's murder, I have become restless. At night my hostile mind floods with the bloodied memories that are no longer dormant. Visions of blood and darkness. My lungs still ache from the memory of black smoke and water.
The sea calls to me, louder than ever, demanding blood for blood. My father's ruir is fading. The King of Walekia is dying.
I am running out of time.
My ears prick at the sound of sand shifting under heavy weight. My shaking fingers adjust my gray, makeshift blindfold over my eyes before sliding to the hilt of my cutlass in the sand nearby. The footfalls draw closer, my hand tightening on the hilt. My body grows lax, a feint at my approaching enemy. Let them believe I am weak. It will be their last thoughts before my blade pierces their hearts.
"Relax, Cap." Deep baritones slide into the cavern, his towering body following a little after.
I sigh, releasing my father's blade and rolling my head to look over at my first mate. Through the slight gray of the cloth, I catch the brow above his bad eye lift in a silent question. One that has gone white from his years of being blind under the sun. His good eye, brown like the richest ale, hardens.
"Go back to the ship." My voice is hoarse with exhaustion.
Begrudgingly, he sets his soft lips into a thin, disapproving line. The act makes the scar on his mouth widen. "Punish me for treason later. You are in no state to be here alone."
He draws next to me, bending a large leg at the knee and resting his tattooed arm on it. Frowning, I slide my fingers to the dark, free hair near his neck. Ban's actions are my fault I suppose. The next time I want a quick fuck, I'll pay for it like anyone else. But then again...
"Half the crew are at Pikie's, some went straight to Tula's and Finin and Scoob stayed on the ship."
I move to sit up, slapping Ban's hands away and lean my back against the stone wall. "Ah, so my entire crew thinks it wise to disobey me?"
"We've been at sea for two months. Let them get their dicks wet with something other than salt water." The small fire illuminates his wicked grin.
"Two nights." Sighing, I stroke the cloth that covers my eyes, the gray of it casting a darker sheen to the world. My crew has no idea what rests under this fabric, the secrets I hide. With blind loyalty they would follow me off of a cliff.
A large hand adorned in rings rubs the back of his neck. I know the look he gives me; disapproval. I click my tongue. "Two. Nights." I repeat.
With a snort, he nods, hand snaking out to grip my arm. His fingers brush just below the oozing wound, thumb swiping gently at the drying blood. I tense, the small touch eliciting both pain and pleasure.
"Be honest with me." He begins, and I roll my eyes, attempting to pull my arm from his grasp. His hold tightens. "What are we searching for, Cap?"
His eyes meet mine, and I narrow them. "Has your trust in me lessened?"
"No."
"Then why ask me this?"
He releases my arm, dragging a hand down his face. "You're on edge. More than usual. You think I do not feel you toss and turn while you sleep next to me? That I do not hear your whimpers while you rest?"
My nostrils flare. "Perhaps you should sleep with the rest of the crew."
"Not what I meant."
"Do not forget that I am your Captain, Ban. Your Captain. You belong to me, not the other way around." His eyelids lower, a dangerous look crossing his face. "If that is a problem, burn your contract."
The silence that falls in between us is thick with tension. Somewhere during our expedition, lines have become blurred on both sides. I think it is time to unblur them.
"No, Captain." He speaks my title like a slur. A curse. "I'm with you until my soul ascends to the heavens."
I grit my jaw, looking away to gather my stuff before rolling to stand. He doesn't reach for me, simply watches me rise with calculating eyes. I slide my cutlass into its scabbard, adjusting my belt as I turn to face him. "Heading to Mal's. Go back to the ship, Ban."
