𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 | 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐜

𝟏.𝟐 | 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞

Anne sat with her knees furled against her chest, she would have covered her ears with her hands, but as they continued to ring and echo, she waited for the natural sound of the world to return.

Time was a blur, passing both too slow and too quick all at the same time. Sailor's curses and cries for death finally filled the air as her auditory senses returned. However, the gunfire and cannon explosions threatened to deafen her once more.

Although she knew she should move, she remained frozen in place. Fear acting like chains tightening around her chest and constricting her breath. Her eyes were wide, but she saw nothing of the present, only visions of the past flashing to the front of her mind in nauseating patterns.

The terror in Frederick's eyes reflected in her own. The feeling of his nails tearing at her flesh as he was torn from her grasp. The cut-off cry that escaped his lips for the brief second that breath was not crushed from his lungs. She remembered these more vivid than the rest. Repeating itself over and over again in her mind, running in an eternal loop.

She couldn't breathe. She needed air. But the gaping hole in the side of the boat, and the wind and rain pelting her skin and pulling at her hair, did nothing to soothe the burning polluting her lungs. Her eyes drifted toward the ceiling, but the view of tentacles arcing above made her reconsider. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, and directed her chin toward the floor.

There was a series of short metallic clicks that did not belong with the cacophony of death and pain around her. However, it was enough of a distraction to urge her eyes open to locate the source.

Captain Kidd stood on the other side of the bars, pulling back her sword which she had lightly tapped against the cell once more to keep her attention. She said nothing at first, only pushed open the brig door which had already been knocked from its hinges—for how long, Anne couldn't say. After the prisoner only offered a look of distrust, the captain sighed, the time for patience had long run out.

"Come with me if you want to live."

It was a simple invitation, but it carried across her point. And the argument itself was strong enough to dissolve any past quarrels as the two women understood that survival was at the top of their list of priorities.

Anne lifted the torn hem of her skirts and followed Kidd's lead from the brig and back toward the surface of the ship. Between the salted wind and sea, and the grime and mildew coating the brig floor, no one would be able to recognize the dress as belonging to a bride. Instead its tears and soiled hue only emphasized her stripped status in a world where the gods ruled not mortal monarchs. The cruelty of the sea beast hell-bent on dragging them down into the cavernous waters below certainly served as a prime example.

Just as she reached the top step, Anne was struck by an epiphany that may have been more useful in hindsight. She screamed to be heard over the raging wind and splintering wood. "Why are we heading toward it?!"

"Would you rather die in the open air or caged like a coward?" Kidd replied without hesitation. "Now, stay close and follow along if you want to have any chance of making it out of here alive! Where's your brother?"

Without meaning to, Anne's eyes drifted upward. However, the shot of a pistol off to her left pulled her gaze away from the tentacled nightmare and toward Kidd's first mate. De Soto released a laugh laced with insanity as he fired at the beast once more before shoving an individual toward Kidd. The presumed sailor collapsed against the deck, hopefully only unconscious.

The man was physically unrecognizable, covered from head to toe in blood and other fluids that Anne had no intention of identifying. Speculation was enough to twist her stomach in knots.