Echoes of the Enchanted Sea

8

The sea lay still, unnaturally calm, as if holdin' its breath. The ship glided toward the silhouette of the lost city, Dún Scáthach, loom'n like a phantom in the mist. Shadows crawled across the water, whisperin' of the dangers that awaited. The crew, what was left of 'em, huddled close on deck. Faces once full of fight were now etched with fear. Liam, hands clenched tight on the wheel, glanced nervously over his shoulder.

"Missin' too many lads," he muttered, his voice thick with dread. "This place reeks o' doom."

Finnian, still shaken from the siren's attack, spat into the sea. "Aye, but we're not dead yet, are we? Keep yer wits about ye, lads. It's nae over till the devil's draggin' us down."

Niamh stood at the bow, eyes locked on the city's dark outline. Her golden hair whipped about her face, caught in the salty breeze. The weight of her crew's losses sat heavy on her chest, but there was no room for hesitation. Morrigan's curse still gnawed at her, the raven's caw echoing in her mind. It felt as though the Morrigan herself was perched on her shoulder, watchin', waitin' for her to falter.

"Ye can feel her, can't ye?" Lirian's voice, smooth as the sea on a calm day, drifted from behind. The selkie had an odd knack for sneakin' up on folk. "The Morrigan's close. She's always watchin'."

Niamh shot him a look. "Aye, and she can keep watchin'. She'll nae see me fail."

Lirian grinned, his deep blue eyes flashin' with a playful challenge. "Brave words, captain. But this city... it's nae a place for the faint of heart. There's a darkness here, older than ye think."

Niamh glanced back at the crew, what few remained. Eilis was busy preparing food for those that still had an appetite, while Liam steered them into what felt like the mouth of the abyss. Finnian kept an eye on the rigging, though his usual mischief was absent.

"Keep yer eyes peeled when we dock," Niamh ordered. "The lost city is said to be home to pirates even the sea fears. And after losin' half our men, we're in no shape for a fair fight."

The ship slowed as they approached the city's crumblin' docks. The eerie silence was broken only by the soft creak of wood and the lappin' of waves. The mist swirled around 'em, thick and suffocatin', like the ghosts of sailors long lost.

As the crew scrambled to tie the ship, Liam's voice cut through the quiet. "Captain, somethin's nae right." His weathered face was pale. "Where's the watch? Where's the welcome?"

Niamh frowned. "Stay sharp. The city might be empty, but that doesnae mean we're alone."

They stepped onto the slick, moss-covered docks. The air felt heavy, thick with the weight o' forgotten memories and battles fought long ago. Broken ships and remnants of lives lost to the sea lay scattered like bones.

Suddenly, from the shadows of a dilapidated tower, a shout rang out. "Raiders!" The voice was guttural, rough, an' full o' menace.

Before Niamh could react, figures emerged from the fog—rogue pirates, their faces twisted with cruelty, blades flashin' in the dim light.

"Ambush!" Finnian cried, drawin' his dagger, ready for the fight.

Niamh's blood pounded in her ears. "To arms, lads! Show 'em what's left o' us ain't easy prey!" She drew her sword, the steel gleamin' like fire in her hands. But as the first rogue charged, somethin' inside her shifted—this wasn't just a fight. This was the Morrigan's test, her chance to prove she could stand tall, no matter the cost.

The pirates were ruthless, clashin' steel and snarls fillin' the air. Lirian fought at Niamh's side, his movements fluid as the sea, the seductive grace of a selkie masked by lethal precision. But as the battle raged on, the crew's numbers dwindled even more.

From the corner of her eye, Niamh caught sight of a raven, perched atop a crumblin' stone wall. Its eyes glinted with dark amusement, and for a moment, Niamh could almost hear Morrigan's voice in her mind, whisperin' of fate and failure.

"No more!" Niamh roared, slashin' through the nearest pirate. "I'll nae be yer pawn, Morrigan!"

But the raven remained, watchin'.

At that moment, the fog thickened, turnin' the world into a blur of gray. Niamh found herself standin' alone, the clash o' battle distant, almost unreal. Before her, the raven spread its wings, and a cold wind rushed through the streets of Dún Scáthach.

A figure stepped from the mist, tall and dark, the Morrigan herself. Her sharp eyes bore into Niamh's soul. "Ye think ye can defy me, girl?"

Niamh's grip tightened on her sword. "I don't need to defy ye. I'll survive."

Morrigan's smile was cruel. "Then make yer choice, captain. Prove yerself, or join yer fallen crew."

The mist swirled again, and Niamh was back in the fight, Lirian shoutin' somethin' at her. But the choice weighed heavy in her mind. A path had opened before her, one she had to walk alone.