𝐁𝛐𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | Nikolai Lantsov

2 | 𝚴𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝛐𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚

The salty wind whipped through my hair as I stood on the unfamiliar ship, its wooden deck swaying beneath me. I had run away, leaving behind the chaos of Ketterdam-leave a city I had come to despise, even if it was still my home. I was Amora, the misfit girl from the streets, thrumming with fears and hopes that had danced dangerously close to my throat since dawn. Now, surrounded by the rowdy crew of Sturmhond, the legendary privateer whose name echoed through alleyways and taverns, I felt the longing for freedom pulse in my veins.

"Grab that rope, girl!" a voice bellowed, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I turned to see a burly man with a beard tangled like seaweed. Without hesitation, I lunged for the rope and gave it a swift pull, my heart racing as I joined the fray against a rival crew. The adrenaline surged, a wild tide, as fists flew and swords clashed. I swung a heavy hook I'd grabbed from a nearby barrel, connecting with a stranger's side and sending him sprawling.

"Nice work!" a voice called out. My breath hitched as I spot Sturmhond, his movements fluid and confident. I didn't know why I was on this ship, why I had so blindly followed my instinct to join the fray, but as chaos erupted around me, all that mattered was the fight and the overwhelming sense of belonging.

When the skirmish ended and the rival crew retreated, I collapsed onto the deck, panting, my hands trembling from the rush of it all. A steadfast sense of exhilaration overwhelmed my earlier fears-perhaps I wasn't as hopeless as I'd thought.

Later that evening, after the adrenaline faded and a sense of camaraderie settled among the crew, we gathered on the deck for dinner. My stomach grumbled in anticipation, though I had no idea what awaited me. The smell wafting up from the galley was tantalizing. Surely, whatever exotic dish Sturmhond's crew cooked up would be better than the grey, unloved gruel of the Ketterdam eateries.

When the food was served, however, horror eclipsed my hope. It was a horrendous concoction of what seemed to be boiled seaweed, glistening with a substance that was either oil or a disturbing attempt at sauce. The sight was so unappetizing that it made my stomach turn. My eyes widened as I lifted the congealed mass, its stench only adding to the horror. In Ketterdam, I had struggled to find edible meals, but this? This was unfathomable.

"What is it?" I hissed to the girl beside me, barely able to keep my voice low as I held up my plate. She shrugged, and I realized she was just as uncertain.

"I think it's a special dish," she replied sheepishly, "a delicacy from Sturmhond's homeland. But... I'm not sure what it's called."

"Delicacy?" I scoffed, wrinkling my nose. "More like a disaster."

With barely a bite taken, I surrendered my plate to Tolya, who grinned widely, clearly unfazed. "I'll take that!" He dug in with unrestrained enthusiasm, clearly loving every bizarre minute of it.

As I chatted with some random crew members-my heart still thumping from the earlier fight-I absorbed their banter and laughter. They were an eclectic mix, one moment loud and raucous and the next moment settling into softer camaraderie as they shared stories from their journeys. I felt as if I could stay here forever, drowning in their stories, forgetting the dark corners of the city I had fled.

Adventuring with Sturmhond was intoxicating. I forgot temporarily about the fears lurking in the shadows of my mind, the shadows I thought I had escaped.

After dinner, exhaustion pulled me under as evening began to settle on the horizon. Tamar, a fierce woman with wild hair and sharp eyes, guided me to my quarters. Quarters, she said casually, but when I stepped inside, it was nothing more than a dangling hammock suspended between two posts, with a random woman sleeping on top.

"This is it?" I croaked, staring in disbelief at the minuscule space. It was barely adequate for a bed, let alone privacy. The woman above groaned slightly, rolling over, a groggy warning that I should keep it down.

"Welcome to life on a ship," Tamar said with a chuckle. "It's not the Grand Palace, but you'll find your place here."

With unfurling limbs and a heavy heart, I clambered awkwardly into the hammock, the fabric twisting uncomfortably around me. I eyed the darkness above and below as the ship swayed gently, my mind swirling. Was I really here for adventure? Or was I merely running from the ghosts that Ketterdam held?

As I lay still, the night's sounds from the sea mingled with the soft conversation of the crew, filling the air with an oddly comforting hum. Despite the discomfort of my makeshift room, exhaustion enveloped me, and soon, I succumbed to sleep.

But for the first time in a long while, as I closed my eyes against the creak of the ship and the salty spray of the sea, I allowed a flicker of hope to kindle within me. Perhaps this chaotic band of misfits, led by a reckless prince, was just what I'd been searching for after all. The night held potential, and tomorrow-a new adventure awaited.

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