𝐁𝛐𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | Nikolai Lantsov

3 | 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚

The sound of voices drifted through the haze of sleep, their murmurs pulling me from the depths of a dream I couldn't quite grasp. A persistent shaking pulled me further from my slumber. I blinked a few times, groaned, and rubbed my eyes until the blurred world around me came into focus. Above me stood Tamar,

"Amora!" she said, impatience woven through her voice. “Get up! It’s training.”

I groaned again, rolling over and dragging my pillow over my head to shield myself from the lantern light. It was bright, too bright for my liking. “Can’t I just be useless for one more day?”

“Sturmhond wants to know if you’re not just a pretty face,” she shot back, amusement flickering in her eyes despite her urgent tone. “Get up or I swear I’ll drag you out myself.”

The thought of being dragged out of bed was enough to make me grumble and push myself upright. I ran my fingers through my dark hair and shoved it into a knot on top of my head, shooting Tamar what I hoped was a sufficiently intimidating glare. I slipped into my clothes and followed her outside, where the salty tang of the ocean mingled with the smell of sweat and determination.

As I stepped onto the main deck of the ship, I was met with the sight of two fighters locked in a fierce bout, a circle of crew members crowding around them, shouting encouragement and jeers. The tension was palpable, and I found myself unconsciously mirroring the crowd’s excitement. After several exchanges that left the air crackling, the brown-haired fighter found himself sprawled out on the deck, the reddish-haired victor standing over him, triumphant.

“Wren!” Sturmhond called, laughter coloring his voice. “You’ve outdone yourself this time!”

My eyes searched for him among the gathered crew, finally landing on Sturmhond himself, his blond hair whipping dramatically in the sea breeze. There was an air of playful cockiness about him that drew attention, but beneath that charisma, I sensed something deeper—power that was not meant to be underestimated.

The twins pushed through the crowd, excitement buzzing between them. Tamar sauntered up to her brother. “Let’s see who is the strongest today!” she declared.

Toyla grinned, adjusting the two curved swords strapped to his back. “I’ll show you why my hair is better than yours!”

They stepped into the makeshift arena, weapons drawn, and the crowd erupted into cheers and laughter. The duel unfolded in a flurry of movements—grunts and insults exchanged like blows under the searing sun. In an unexpected twist, Toyla emerged victorious, and he couldn’t resist grinning at Tamar’s mild expression of disbelief.

But just as the cheers settled, Sturmhond called my name, unexpected and electrifying as it echoed in the open air.

“Amora!” he beckoned, a challenge in his voice. “In the circle. Let’s see if you’ve got any fight in you.”

My heart quickened as I stood frozen, confused but intrigued. The crowd turned, their gazes fixed on me. I swallowed hard, assessing the situation. Defeating Sturmhond, who had seemingly bested everyone else aboard, wasn’t something I could easily dismiss. The air felt thick with anticipation.

I stepped forward, my resolve solidifying with each step. “What, you think I’m going to back down?” I shot back, trying to mask the storm of nerves swirling in my stomach.

“Prove it,” he challenged, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

I had heard whispers of Sturmhond—the fearsome privateer shrouded in half-truths and legends. Few had ever seen his true prowess, and even fewer had pushed him to his limits. But there was something about his confidence that ignited a spark within me. Perhaps it was desperation, the need to finally reclaim a sense of agency in this world that felt like it was spiraling out of my control.

“Fine! But don’t go easy on me simply because I’m a girl,” I declared, stepping into the circle.

Every sound faded into the backdrop as I focused solely on Sturmhond. He stepped closer, and though I could see the playful glint in his eye, I also recognized the steel beneath his demeanor.

“Let’s keep this simple,” he said, crouching into a fighting stance.

My heart sank a little at his words. I had always resented the way people underestimated me, but here, I had hoped to surprise him with what I could conjure. Regardless, I’d give it my best shot.

The fight began suddenly; his movements were swift and studied, a dance of agility and strength. I responded by sidestepping and throwing my weight into my balance. Each time we collided, I could feel the energy of the crew, the electric excitement in the air, cheering us on.

I took a deep breath, channelling my frustration into focus. Moments blurred into an exhilarating rhythm as we sparred, parried, and exchanged blows—every strike teaching me more about my own limitations. After several moments, I realized this wasn’t just about proving myself to him, but also about proving to myself that I could stand my ground against anyone.

As Sturmhond grappled to gain the upper hand, I used the momentum to flip him off balance, landing a satisfying punch square on his shoulder. He stumbled back, surprise flaring in his eyes, but it quickly morphed into laughter.

“Not bad, Ketterdam girl! Perhaps you’re not useless after all,” he said, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

I couldn’t help but grin, feeling an exhilarating rush of victory wash over me. My confidence surged as I swung again, but this time, Sturmhond dodged effortlessly, catching my wrist and flipping me onto the ground.

“Nice try,” he said, leaning over me with that insufferable charm.

I huffed, trying to stay indignant, but even in defeat, I couldn’t suppress the joy blooming in my chest.

Tamar and Toyla hooted from the sidelines, and the crowd erupted into a mix of cheers, igniting encouragement in every direction. As I lay there, breathing hard, I felt a rush of camaraderie among the crew. I had proved I could stand among them, even if I hadn’t won.

“Get up, Amora!” Tamar called, extending her hand to me. “You showed him!”

“If there’s anything I know,” I said, pulling myself up, “it’s that I’m far from worthless."

Sturmhond grinned at me, the flicker of respect unmistakable in his gaze. “Welcome to the crew. Now let’s see what else you can do, Your Highness.”

The surprise of his words sent a whirlwind through my chest. What did he know, I wondered? But in that moment, beneath the sun-drenched skies of Ravka, I felt an ember ignite—a story of strength and transformation, waiting just beneath the surface.

⎯⎯ ୨•୧ ⎯⎯